#if I was not a depressed little mess and could actually write smut right now you would have gotten reader getting railed on a bloody altar
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The Revelation
Summary: You are pretty happy with the cult you have made for yourself, but when two newcomers show up you can't help but think how far you could go with this.
(this is a one-shot, I stg if your only comment on this is to say 'part 2' I will feed you to the tomato plants! If you like it and have brain worms about it by all means send those to me and we can bounce ideas around)
Words: 6.6k
CWs: Cult shit, dubcon (everyone is manipulating each other here), light petplay (hope you're proud of yourself Bo I am incapable of writing Ghoap without Johnny being a puppy now), smut, murder, slight allusion to cannibalism (in a round about way, just putting it here for safety), Catholicism
The Death of God happened on a gloomy Thursday afternoon. One moment he had been mowing the lawn and the next thing he had an epiphany about hating his suburban life, hating his suburban wife, hating the 2 kids and hating the lawnmower he had spent his last bonus on.
The Revelation happened on a sunny Friday morning when you had popped up on his tiktok feed and told him that you understood him, that you were there for him. He had made his way to the commune, telling his wife it was just a visit to find himself. And he did. Which of course meant he never came home.
Truly you would consider yourself some what of a miracle working taking in this portly, charisma void of a businessman and turning him into some semblance of interesting. Well as interesting as anyone in this little slice of heaven. He had a fascination with growing tomatoes now. Good for him.
The hundreds of little deaths of God had been great for business. When someone had a crisis, when someone thought they were broken, when someone just couldn't fucking take it anymore, that's when they were so desperate to believe in something that you could make them happy with a smile and a kind word every so often. You could keep them happy (well, what they believed was happy and wasn't that all that mattered?) by keeping them a little tired, a little hungry and occasionally a little high. Good for the soul really, that's what you always said.
Surely you deserved to live on a steady diet of champagne, strawberries and decadence for all the good work you did. They all understood how difficult it was to be you. And despite your trials weren't you still so lovely to them? Even when they acted out you were gentle in your reminders that they needed fixing, that you were only ever there to help, that their friends and families would try and convince them otherwise because they didn't understand what it was to be broken. You opened your arms to them always, it was in their nature to err and in yours to forgive.
Honestly you could keep this up for the rest of your life. A small group of people devoted to you, happy in their worship and happy in their toil. No violence needed to keep them compliant, just a soft touch and the occasional psychological torture as necessary. You had no aspirations to go beyond this, you had it good. No need for a death cult or to make yourself an actual God to them. You already had your champagne and strawberries after all, life was good.
–
They were big, these two new men to your little oasis. It would be a tricky thing to half starve them you thought, but then it would also be a shame to have them lose all that bulk that you found you quite enjoyed looking at. Still, it was important for enlightenment and all that.
So you gave them a steady supply of soft smiles and reassuring touches, a diet of “yes this is an eco-living commune!” and “oh I never thought anyone would want to join me out here, I just got very lucky that so many wonderful people share the same morals.” They went easy of course, ex-military, used to structure and relying on someone above them to do the thinking. Perfect for you really, just two attack dogs that were impeccably trained.
They neglected to tell you that they hadn't been regular military, that they had been high ranked special operators in an elite task force. That would have made you suspicious after all and it was better you thought them stupid. Johnny had seen you on tiktok and wanted you and Simon never denied his boy anything, so here they were, playing you completely into their hands.
First it was getting themselves special privileges, unlimited access to food, a home right next to yours, full evenings of rest. Hadn't been hard to make you think it was your idea.
“Och it's alright lass, I ken we're naw military anymore. Dinnae need tae be a lean, mean, killing machine oot here.”
“Of course not Johnny, I'd hope you think you're very safe here.”
“Aye, feel safe with you. Ye look after us. Wish ye would let us look after you more!”
“I don't need anymore than I already have, but it's so wonderful of you to say, truly.”
Then a few days later when there had been time for that little declaration to settle in.
“Simon! How are you, I didn't see you yesterday.”
“Sorry, pulled my shoulder something awful. Felt like a right git not being able to do work properly.”
“Oh that's terrible, how did you pull it?”
“Ah just lack of training is all. Too used to being strong, retirement doesn't really lend itself to that.”
“You're still plenty strong!”
“I hope so. Some of the things I hear about what people's families think of you… if it ever came down to it, I want you to know I'd protect you with my life. Both me and Johnny would, strong or not.”
You had really been given an absolute gift here. That was something that had been making you a little paranoid. If family members escalated to violence there was really nothing you could do. You were a lover (here meaning awful con artist but that was just semantics) not a fighter. And now there was a solution right in your lap.
“How would you and Johnny feel about being security then? I'd hate to think we'd ever need it of course, but it would make people feel safer. Some of their families are terrible people I'm afraid, I don't want anyone to get hurt because someone tries something violent” you said gently, of course concerned for these innocent people being viciously abused by their awful families (these brainwashed people being taken by their loved ones to recover and live meaningful lives again, lives which did not involved maintaining your champagne and strawberry habit).
“If you ask us of course we'd never say no, it's just… would it be ok to have an hour a day to train? It's such an honour to protect this place, not looking to half arse it.”
“Of course! Come to my house with Johnny after supper and we can discuss some accommodations for your new roles.”
–
“How does that sound?” you asked, soft as silk.
You knew how it sounded, it sounded like you were the damn second coming. Giving them unrestricted food and sleep, telling them you'd have a house for them built right by your side? You knew it was working by how Johnny's eyes had went big and wet, projecting puppy-like adoration. And Simon? Oh that big, delicious man stood and walked over to you so he could kneel at your feet. Fuck you had never felt better about yourself.
“We don't deserve so much of your consideration. I-” he said, the first time you had heard him struggle to get words out through his emotion. “I want to thank you properly.”
He said it like it was a revelation and it peaked your interest. You could have squealed with delight when his cheek leant against your knee, your dress pushed by his face to let skin meet skin, eyes locked with yours as he turned to kiss your flesh. You hadn't fucked any of your followers, too messy. But these weren't regular followers anymore right? No, these were special followers. And it had been so long and he was looking at you like he was desperate to give you any pleasure he could.
Oh Simon was desperate all right, had been thinking about getting you sloppy and pathetic for him since Johnny had excitedly shown him that bloody video of you acting like an innocent little lamb. He wanted to just barrel in, bend you over and claim you right away. It was Johnny who insisted it would be more fun to trick you, who had whined like a bitch about it until he got his way. Bloody MacTavish. He really needed to train those puppy dog eyes right out of the boy. Those had got him to indulge in all sort of risks already. Nearly fucked the whole plan right up when you had come dangerously close to catching him balls deep in Johnny in your bed, absolutely ruining him as per his own puppy dog eyed request.
For his part Johnny was positively giddy. He might give away the game if he really got to watch Simon taste you. Would he play gently with you? Oh my God would he pretend he was inexperienced to make you feel superior? Let you think you were guiding him? That might kill him dead. He tried to not fucking salivate and start panting at the thought of it.
“Then thank me properly.”
Fuck the way his eyes lit up at that. This gorgeous man wanted you, he wanted to please you. As a hand squeezed your calf and he started to drag his mouth up your bare leg you felt the sick thrill of wondering how far they would go for you. Already people had given up families, friends, wealth. You had never pushed it beyond, horrified whenever you thought about how delicious it would be if they would die for you, kill for you and so shoving those dark thoughts to the back of your mind.
But you didn't want Simon to die for you. You did want to see how far you could push, how deep his devotion ran. To that end you wove fingers through his hair and pulled him off of your thigh, his eyes flickering from your wet panties sticking to your cunt up to your own eyes in question.
“I want you to kiss Johnny.”
You said it like a woman possessed. Fuck. That's exactly what you wanted. You wanted these big masculine men to fuck against their own desires but do it for you. They were dumb jocks really, probably had never fumbled around with another man before. They'd find it hard, find it wrong. You didn't really consider yourself a bad person before this moment, just a clever one. This was straying into something else, some monstrous part of you that was salivating with the thought of finally being released.
“Will you do that for me?”
You heard a choked sort of noise and looked over to see Johnny hiding his face in his hands. Of course, big Scottish man must be scared of doing such a thing. Or rather having such a thing done to him. You imagined it would be some attack to his sense of self to have a bigger man press a kiss onto him. Fuck maybe he would tear up. Maybe he would fully cry if Simon pushed inside of him. You hoped that God really was dead because if not you were sure They'd have some stern words for you after this.
“Oh I've never…”
Fuuuuuck. Simon's vulnerable eyes darting from Johnny to you were liable to make you cum on the fucking spot. You smiled indulgently down on him, running a hand over his face is a caress.
“You know I only ever do what's best for you don't you? I wouldn't ever ask you to do anything that isn't for the greater good. Do you believe in me Simon?” you said, the years of practice infusing your tone with a cloying sweetness.
“Yes” he replied, barely a breathy whisper of affirmation.
His glazed eyes looked at you with such adoration before he nuzzled his face into your hand and left a kiss there before making his way across to where Johnny was sitting on the sofa, face still hidden in his hands. He went over on his knees, crawled. You pressed your fingers against your throbbing clit, cupping yourself to try and tell your body to calm down because there was so much more to come.
Simon crawled between Johnny’s legs, going up on his knees and grabbing Johnny’s nape to drag his face down. He was whispering something in his ear, maybe trying to settle him, trying to assure him this was what they needed to do for you. Of course had you been aware Simon was hissing at Johnny to keep it together, to stop laughing about how easily you were falling for this, then the whole thing would really have been ruined. Luckily Johnny was still a soldier, Simon still his LT, so when he was ordered to put his game face on he did it. And luckily Johnny was still a good boy, Simon was still his master, so he knew that squeezing at his pup's nape always got that furrow in his brow to relax, got him eager to please and ready to tear up at the first little tease or overstimulation.
It was really destiny that you would be this level of power hungry, this eager to push and see what you could make people do. He had been training Johnny to put all his eager to please energy to good use for years, had turned a feral mutt into a feral mutt with impeccable training. The chance to turn a corrupt fox into a corrupt fox whose only desire was to be stroked and pampered was making him painfully hard. Johnny had been right, tricking you was far more delicious than just forcing you into it.
When he moved Johnny’s hands from his face it was to reveal a man looking ruined, looking liquid eyed and flushed. Simon mouthed a good boy to him before pressing a kiss to his lips. It was calculatedly shy and tentative and he kept a steadying hand on Johnny’s knee, squeezing when he felt he might lose control and start panting and licking his way into his mouth as he usually tried to do. Simon couldn’t very well punish him right now without giving the game away, so he just had to use the suggestion of a future punishment.
After the first peck you watched a slow and decadent slide into forbidden desire. They got a little bolder with each press of lips, seemed to squirm a bit more with the struggle of it feeling good but wrong. When Simon pulled away and Johnny whined despite himself you slid your hand past your waistband, needing to touch yourself or you’d die.
“You’d like it if Simon used his tongue wouldn’t you Johnny? Would be nice to feel it against yours. It’s important that you two are close isn’t it? To do your jobs well that is.”
Johnny would have agreed with full enthusiasm and pounced Simon to get them both on the floor so he could rut his hips down into the cock he was desperate for, but the hand at his bad knee squeezed again and the spark of pain reminded him of the mission. So instead he looked at you, teary and unsure.
“H-his tongue? I… I’m naw…”
“You’re not what Johnny?”
“It’s wrong.”
“Who told you that?”
You watched him play with the thin chain around his neck, the crucifix falling out of his shirt. Catholic. Oh this must be even more torturous for him. No matter, you had killed plenty of Gods already, you could kill his. Watch guilt eat and eat and eat at him until finally he gave in to the desire. Gave in to you. Let any other divine figure die in favour of a new God.
“Oh Johnny, do you think I would lead you into temptation? It’s ok, I would never make you. If you don’t like it that’s fine, you can both call it a night hm? Security is a tough job, I would never think less of you for not being up to the task. My fault really, I must have mistaken the potential I saw in you.”
He surged forward and shoved his tongue past Simon’s teeth and you moaned deeply, fingers so slippery that getting proper friction on your clit was a challenge now. You did not think you had ever been so wet in your life, feeling slick trickle out of you as they clumsily seemed to fight for dominance, saliva dripping down Johnny’s chin from how much he was trying to follow your instructions, how deep he was trying to pull Simon’s tongue with his into his mouth.
When they next pulled away they both seemed dazed, like they couldn't believe they had just done that. Poor Simon turned to look at your pleadingly, legs widening so you could see he was straining against his pants. He was rock solid from making out with Johnny and you were cumming all at once, hips rolling in time with your fingers as you breathed out instructions with your cunt still clenching in waves.
“Good, so good for me. Want you both to cum, get all of that tension out. Wouldn't ever leave you wanting would I?”
They both looked needy, but the fact that they quietly waited for instructions on how to cum was possibly the most erotic thing you had ever seen.
“It's OK, you can help each other. That's what it's all about here isn't it? Helping those in need in the community, and you're both in need. Jerk your cocks together, it'll be bonding for you to cum together like that.”
They fucking did it. Simon shoved his pants down enough to free the absolute monster of a cock he had and dragged Johnny only his lap on the floor. Johnny's cock was thick as anything and just as hard. Fuck the image of Johnny taking Simon’s cock, taking every hard inch of him in his ass. Crying about how it wouldn't fit, how it was wrong. Clutching his crucifix. You needed to make it happen soon. Maybe you could make Johnny wear a plug, say it was part of training. Get him ready to be fucked by his friend and once superior without him ever realising that's what you were doing.
Their precum was already making the slide of it easier as Simon took the lead, big hand wrapping around both of them and slowly pumping, staring at it in fascination. You were slowly overstimulating your clit, feeling that tension start growing again already.
“Spit on it Johnny.”
He did it without hesitation, his saliva making Simon’s jerking squelch. It didn't take long until Johnny was begging, needing to cum. You didn't even register that it wasn't you he was looking at as he begged, you were too lost in sensation, eyes locked on their cocks rubbing together.
“Go on, cum. Both of you.”
Simon sped his hand and his low grunt (the ‘s’ok pup, cum’ so low you hadn’t heard it over your pleasure) combined with Johnny's drooling and panting sent you spiralling over the edge again as they both shot ropes of sticky cum all over each other.
Fuck. What else could you make people do?
–
Over the next few weeks life got even easier for you. Simon and Johnny were excellent right hands, earning respect from all of your followers and taking on almost all of the tasks you had (which you had made sure were as minimal as possible already, the whole point of this endeavour was to live an easy life).
Simon was careful to make sure to be seen with you, start planting the seeds in people's minds that they were an extension of you. Johnny was rapidly losing patience which made him incredibly satisfying to fuck because he got to beat every single complaint out of him. It was him that wanted to go this route so he was going to finish what he started. It had been a long time since he had seen Johnny get so worked up over anything and he forgot how much he enjoyed him when he was like this, biting at every little bit of bait that Simon left with the express purpose of having an excuse to punish him later for it.
Johnny needed putting down when he got this wound up, at this point Simon had taken him over his knee at least once a day, collared and leashed him most nights, fucked him silly so much that he was constantly aching and plugged to keep ready for a quickie when he needed it. Which right now was inhumanly often and with them still in the bunkhouse they were having to get very creative with the venue. Johnny was going especially feral given that you had only been alone with them once more since you had promoted them and you had acted like last time had never happened. Clever actually, Simon had to hand it to you, you were very good at playing with people. He could see the little glimmer in your eye, the delight at seeing how Johnny seemed to be vibrating with anticipation of something that never came. You were setting him up to beg, making sure that when he gave in and went directly against his God that it would be him pleading for you to let him do so.
It wasn’t like you had ever been close enough to tell, but that little cross around Johnny’s neck had SR carved into the back of it. Simon had corrupted the Roman Catholic out of this pup years ago, the cross only came out on special occasions when Johnny wanted to play coy and innocent or when Simon wanted to remind him who he belonged to (because it certainly wasn’t a God, it was his fucking lieutenant). Well and now, when they both knew the sight of it would give you such a power trip that you’d fall right into their trap.
“I was thinking about your house” you said, the three of you standing where the foundations were already being put down.
“Aye?”
“It just seems such a waste when I have extra bedrooms in my home.”
“It would be such an honour to stay in any of them. Would we not be intruding?”
“Of course not Simon, you are my right hand men now. It makes sense for you to stay close to me. To one another.”
You swore you could see Johnny’s ears perk up, a phantom tail flicking quickly behind him in rapt attention at that. Of course their minds would go there, just like you wanted them to. It hadn’t been too difficult for you to be patient, to play with them so that you didn’t push too far too fast. It was something you were very good at.
“Would you… still let us build something here?”
“Oh?”
“I think a temple of sorts would be nice. Somewhere for you to relax. You work so hard for all of us and if you are taking us into your space I’d hate for you to have nowhere to go to meditate alone.”
It only took a few days to wear you down. You had no idea how much influence they already had with your followers, how easy it was for them to plant that idea there and have them be the ones appealing to you to please allow them to do this for you. And while that shred of morality you had left was screaming at you not to do this, not to actually Deify yourself lest it go too far, the adoration inflated your ego and drowned your conscience out.
So they started to build your temple.
–
“Ah! Like that. That’s it, that’s what I need” you moaned out, Simon in between your legs worshipping.
You had moved them into your home, the large house comfortable and spacious in comparison to the bunkhouse the other followers stayed in, and that night Simon had come to your room and gotten on his knees for you. How could you say no to him?
The adoration of your followers was nothing compared to this. They loved you yes, but fuck Simon was reverant, tongue swirling around your cunt so there was more holy water for him to glut himself on. This was decadent, languid on your bed with him focusing entirely on your pleasure, expecting nothing in return. This man who was spending his days by your side, overlooking the building of a temple in your honour. You could not decide in this moment if you wanted him to fuck you on the altar when it was done or if you wanted to fuck him.
It was a good conundrum to have because you felt that you could simply have both. You could have whatever the fuck you wanted with this man by your side. Who could stand against him and Johnny? And who would ever worship you more? You had never actually bought your own bullshit before, but if he kept this up maybe you were some sort of God because how else could you be living this deliciously?
You tugged his hair sharply to get him off of you and pushed at him until he was on his back. You would take what you wanted from him because it was your right to do so. He did not complain as you settled your cunt on his face and rode him, if anything his clever tongue worked harder to please you. You held his head and used him, and he drank you down and thanked you for the privilege after, vanishing out of your room as silently as he had arrived.
–
It only took another few weeks for Johnny to break and oh he broke so perfectly. Simon came to your room every night to pray, and Johnny must know, must have heard how Simon spilled thank yous against your cunt even as you pushed down to deprive him of oxygen, even as you smeared your slick all over his face, moving exactly as you liked with no consideration of him. You never touched him in any way meant for his pleasure, only to use him for yours.
It was not Simon who knocked lightly on the door. Simon didn’t knock at all, he always just let himself in.
“Come in Johnny.”
He was nervous, that much was clear. You did enjoy the sight of him in only his boxers and crucifix, moonlight doing wonders in making him look incredibly edible. You wanted to knead his pecs like they were tits, wanted to sink your teeth into the meat of his neck until you tasted blood and he cried out your name instead of his God’s.
“I want…”
“Hm? You want?”
“Will ye let me please ye? I ken Si… I’m naw good enough for ye, but I want tae be. It’s just, I’ve never uh… I’m a quick study.”
And with perfect timing, in walked Simon. Couldn’t have planned it better yourself (well, actually Johnny had planned it, Simon had laughed and ruffled his hair at how eager he had been to act the part of the blushing virgin before unhooking the leash and getting him out of his collar and into his crucifix).
“Good evening Simon” you purred.
The man didn’t really acknowledge that Johnny was in the room, instead going to his place by the foot of your bed and kneeling. It was always where you started, with him lapping at you until you ordered him onto the bed or the floor so you could take what you needed. Only you pushed him away with your foot when he tried to pull at your shorts, holding him at leg length and looking at Johnny.
“Come sit will you?”
He nervously shuffled over, sitting next to you on the bed with his eyes darting uncomfortably down to Simon kneeling pretty, your foot still holding him away from you. He swallowed and you thought it sweet how he held your gaze to avoid watching as you motioned for Simon to move and he did so without hesitation. Johnny still didn’t look at him even as you put a hand to his knee to make him spread his legs enough for Simon’s broad shoulders to fit between them.
“If you want to learn I’d never stop you Johnny, I want you to be the best at the things you’d like. And I’m sure Simon makes a wonderful teacher.”
Simon didn’t need prompting, obedient and perfect boy that he was. He started licking up Johnny’s thick thigh the same way he would have if you were sitting there. Johnny, bless him, gripped onto your leg like it was a lifeline, fingers digging into the plush flesh hard enough that you imagined it may leave marks. You swallowed his loud whine with your mouth when Simon slipped his boxers down and took his hard cock right to the root. It almost made you laugh, if you tried to take that in your throat you would certainly be gagging and crying.
When you pulled away Johnny was a whining mess, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other still dug into the fat of your thigh. You wondered if he had ever gotten head. Certainly not from another man. Oh wouldn’t his priest be so disappointed in him. You could imagine a severe man in the robes of God, looking with disgust at the whore before him. But you were a kinder creature, letting him indulge in pleasure without telling him he couldn’t.
Well, to a point. You pushed Simon to stop with the frankly immaculate looking blow job when it was clear from Johnny’s hips rutting that he was close. Then you swung your leg around, straddling Johnny and squeezing yourself to him, stopping him from trying to get friction from you.
“Not yet Johnny, you need to be patient hm? Simon, open him up. Tongue first, then fingers.”
Johnny was tearing up, looking at you like he didn’t understand why you were doing this while feeling horribly guilty that he liked it. He howled when Simon’s tongue started playing at his rim, his hands gripping at your hips to try and make you move against him. You put a hand to his throat and squeezed lightly.
“It’s ok, you can take it can’t you?”
“I-I cannae, please bonnie, I’m naw- I dinnae-” he whined before he choked on nothing, eyes blown wide, “h-his tongue is, fuck it’s inside.”
“I know Johnny, I know. Is it too much then? Should I tell him to stop? If you can’t take it, then at least you tried” you said, sweet as anything but putting a tiny edge of disappointment into your tone.
“I can take it! Please, I can! Dinnae make him stop, I can take whatever ye gie me!”
“Good boy.”
Oh, the reaction to those two words was worth exploring. It was like he changed from a man to some pathetic animal, eyes watery and begging, hands pawing at your hips while his own desperately tried to buck up. You felt how he froze, heard how he choked when Simon pressed a finger into him.
“Hmm that’s it, take what you’re given, you’ll be good and hold off for me hm?” you cooed, moving a hand to run fingers under his chain, all the way around until you were behind his neck and could yank, have that crucifix choking him. “Looks better like this Johnny, almost like a pretty collar for you.”
Jackpot. Even with you clamping down to give him as little room for friction as possible you felt the hot gush of his cum, him getting there from being choked, being compared to a dog to be collared. Well if he was going to be a mutt that came without your permission, the permission of his master, then he needed to learn his place no?
“Fuck pet, told you to be patient.”
“Sorry, m’sorry bonnie. Ah! M-make him stop, s’too much!”
“Make him stop? But he’s been good for me, followed everything I’ve asked, You went ahead and finished without permission. Wouldn’t make sense to punish him and reward you, I need to be fair pet.”
He was clearly overstimulated, his hips trying to rut even as he gasped at every bit of friction he got. Oh you wanted to see him fucked out and ruined. You wanted his heart on a fucking platter.
“More Simon. Johnny here is going to let you fuck him tonight, so you need to open him up properly.”
“I-I-” Johnny stuttered, bottom lip quivering and eyes wide and wet. If you weren't so high on the decadence of having these two men at your mercy you’d have questioned just how practised that was.
“Tell me Johnny. Tell me what it is you want.”
Tell me what it is I want to hear that you want. Be a good boy, don’t disappoint me. You’d hate to disappoint me after all I’ve done for you.
“I want Simon tae fuck me tonight.”
“Good boy” you said, hammering that final nail in God’s coffin as you yanked again at the chain so hard it snapped, taking your trophy and tossing it onto your desk without ever having examined it closely.
You watched Simon ruin him at your command. You drank their praise like champagne, bit into their gratitude like strawberries bursting their juice on your chin. You were greedy in how many times you used them for your pleasure, their fingers, their tongues, the sight of them overcome with hedonistic abandon.
You felt like a God.
–
The temple was beautiful, no effort or expense spared. The first floor was a space for everyone, for the brand new community gatherings that you occasionally led but had mostly been letting Simon and Johnny lead. Above that was two glorious floors of space only for you. The only other people permitted to set foot in here were your two right hands. It was something else, being in the luxuriant bed drinking champagne and watching the two of them play with each other for your benefit.
You could not stop thinking about the way Johnny had writhed at the mention of a collar when you had taken his crucifix for yourself (it still sat on the desk right where you had left it). You could not stop imagining how such a thing would look around his thick neck, how your other followers would look at it and be jealous that he got to be so visibly claimed by you.
As always your wish was their command. Simon had presented you with a gorgeous necklace of sorts, almost a choker, the pendant a symbol you didn’t recognise.
“This doesn’t look like a collar for you.”
“It’s for you. The symbol is from the cult of Venus, we thought… well we thought if you could wear it, show people, then when we wore it…”
“You want them to know you are wearing it for me.”
Perfect fucking boys weren’t they. They didn’t just want to show up in a collar, they wanted to show up in a symbol associated with you. It was pretty enough what they had chosen, delicate and clearly made with care and devotion. You turned and lifted your hair so he could put it on you and the very next community gathering was Johnny eagerly explaining the symbol to your followers. It was etched into the temple walls soon after.
–
The realisation happened all at once. You only attended community gatherings for special occasions now and when you did they were all looking at you like you were their God made flesh. Your followers had become something else, something well beyond a little eco-living commune. That had not been your doing.
The door was locked. You could not leave your space in the Temple. Your hand flew to the back of your necklace, realising with a startle that you couldn’t take it off. Simon and Johnny never did have collars made. Why would they? You were rapidly realising they had never intended to. You looked in the mirror, tried to find a clue. The pendant… it was only when you drew it over and over again that you figured it out. This wasn’t some symbol of an old Goddess, it was the letters S R J M twisted around to make a pretty symbol. You sat and stewed, waiting for them to get back. When they did you were sat on the bed, glowering at them.
“Aww ye figure us out bonnie?”
“You played me.”
“Like a fucking violin sweetheart” Simon cooed, walking over to flick the pendant.
You huffed up at him. Everything was completely fucked now. You had all but ordered your followers to treat these two as your spokesmen. You had been slowly vanishing from public life, ingraining in their minds that you were a God who lived in a temple and only graced them with your presence when they had really earned it. All this after years of breaking them down so they thought nothing they ever did was good enough, so of course they would never think they had earned it.
And you had never used violence for anything, you were soft and lived on champagne and strawberries for fuck sake, it wasn’t like you could brute force your way out of this. You were enough of a schemer to know when you had been outplayed.
“So the little shy virginal act?”
Johnny laughed and came over to nuzzle into your hair.
“Ye’d naw believe how many times Si has been in my arse hen, this isnae even the first house of God he’s bent me over in.”
You scowled and pushed his head away, but his eyes only sparkled with excitement as he bullied it right back into nuzzling you like a fucking dog.
“Pup has been so excited about you finally figuring it out. You’ve been teasing him for months now, don’t think it’s time to give him a treat for how well behaved he’s been for you?”
It’s not like you were against the idea, it had been delicious being the dominant one all this time but there was something interesting about the idea of letting Simon take control, letting him get Johnny to fuck you the way you had let him fuck Johnny. Because that would be the case you knew now. It was so obvious knowing what you knew, you really should have figured out way sooner that Simon had always been in control. All the things you had done since he got here that you had thought your ideas weren’t yours at all, he had put them in your head.
“So that’s it then? You keep me here and take over?”
Simon was looking at you with something deranged behind those eyes. It was dreadfully exciting.
“You're coming to tonight's community gathering. You can decide if puppy gets a treat after that.”
–
The Birth of God happened on that brilliant Friday evening. One moment you had been fighting against your conscience, and the next you had let go. You had walked forward, no floated, and pressed a holy kiss to his head. Watching one of your followers plunge a knife into the heart of another on your altar, both with a smile on their faces, was fucking beautiful.
The Revelation happened about the same time. You dipped your fingers in the blood (the same colour as those tomatoes he so loved, the tomatoes that his body would feed and your followers would eat) and marked his murderer with your symbol, the initials of the men that had made you God.
Puppy had more than earned his treat.
#mhairiwrites#cod#fanfic#ghoap x reader#simon riley x reader#john mactavish x reader#simon riley x john mactavish#please read the cws#also please let me exist on champagne and strawberries because I am OVER IT#if I was not a depressed little mess and could actually write smut right now you would have gotten reader getting railed on a bloody altar#would have been great
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"l’amore è cieco" - eren x reader - 18+!!!
back to the ti penso universe!!! finally!! did you guys miss it? i know i did; i am utterly obsessed with these two. i've had this sitting in my unfinished wip pile for way too long not to share.
our lovebirds have gotten the wedding all wrapped up with, so we're a solid four years past them reuniting in italy....and surprise! they're expecting!!!!! i could literally scream just writing that; the grip dad!eren has on me will never let up, i fear......anyways, this one's a little rough because i've picked it apart a thousand times and i'm just tired of editing, so you guys enjoy!!! sorry if it's not quite up to par :/
pairing: eren x reader
wc: 4k
DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.
CWs: smut, reader is pregnant, use of names (baby, mama, pretty, beautiful, etc), swearing, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, lactation kink, creampie, crying, tooth-rotting fluff
title means "love is blind" in italian, per tradition w this verse <3
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Right on schedule with your new daily, depressing routine, you stand in front of the mirror running your hands over your body, examining the recent changes. On second thought, scrutinizing might be a better word.
You’re grateful your job has allowed you to work from home for your entire pregnancy, editing articles from the journalists who can actually travel while snuggled up on your couch, but the downside of it is that you’ve had far too much time to mull on all of the ways your body has stretched and warped to accommodate the growing little girl in your stomach. You thought pregnancy was supposed to be beautiful, and sometimes it is, but more often than not, you just feel like a swollen, hormonal mess.
You “popped”, as all the mommy podcasts say, about two weeks ago, and thin stretch marks have begun to appear on your stomach. Eren calls them your “tiger stripes”, having been in full-blown cringe dad mode since the day you took the test. Bizarre cravings control you at all hours of the day, evidenced by the little black crumbs you’re picking out of your sports bra, left behind by your fourteen-Oreo breakfast today. You gaze longingly at the jewelry box on your bathroom counter; you haven’t been able to wear your wedding band in weeks, the tan line already beginning to fade from your finger. Before you can get a hold of yourself, the hormones have you in their grip, and hot, frustrated tears are spilling down your cheeks.
“Babe, have you seen that tie with the red–” Eren materializes in the doorway with absolutely no warning, as he’s prone to do, but cuts himself off at the sight of you, “baby, no, again?”
“Don’t say it like that,” you say, reluctantly allowing him to take you in his arms.
“Like what?” Eren’s voice is sweet, but hesitant. He’s been living under the constant threat of getting his head bitten off for mundane reasons because of you. It makes you feel worse, makes you shove him away and glare at him accusingly.
“Like I’m always fucking crying.” You are always crying, but you wish he would at least muster up some semblance of surprise at finding you in tears yet again. You turn away from him, wiping your face in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be packing? Your flight leaves in like, three hours.”
“I’ll cancel,” Eren coos, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, picking your belly up in his hands.
It’s some hack he got off Tik Tok, supposed to take the weight off of your back for a precious moment, and as much as you don’t necessarily want to be touched right now, it actually helps. You’ve been alternating between thinking Eren’s overenthusiastic parenting research is adorable and mind-numbingly annoying, but for the moment, your back has stopped aching for the first time all morning, and you sigh, leaning into him.
“You can’t cancel,” you murmur, momentarily soothed, “‘s a big client. Where is it again? France?”
“I just got back from France, Miss Pregnancy Brain,” Eren chuckles, quieting immediately upon catching your lethal gaze in the mirror. “It’s just over in LA, and honestly, I could have Hitch go if you need me.”
“No, I can take care of myself, it’s just like…” a fresh wave of tears spills down your cheeks, “fuck, I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”
Eren nods into your shoulder, letting you sniffle. It’s not a new trait, your outright refusal to ask for help, but it’s been exacerbated by your pregnancy, especially considering exactly how much help you actually need now.
You’ve taken custody of all of his sweatpants, not yet able to bring yourself to buy maternity clothes. You’d walked in sobbing and humiliated the other day because you’d peed yourself on the long elevator ride up to your apartment in front of the neighbors. You can’t sleep on your stomach anymore; Eren has to prop himself up just right beside you and sandwich you between himself and a wall of pillows to stop you from turning. You know it hurts him seeing you miserable, and you try to suck it up and enjoy the positives of pregnancy as much as you can, but you can’t muster up that strength every day.
“Hush,” Eren pulls your wet face to his chest, letting you stain the Number 1 Dad! t-shirt he had bought himself. “I’m not going.”
“Eren–”
“I’m not,” he says firmly, rubbing small circles into the bottom of your spine, “you need me here, whether you want to admit it or not.”
You grumble complacently, nuzzling into him. You do need him, as much as you want to think you can tough it out on your own. Eren’s bought book after book, not just for the baby, but for you. Most nights you find him reading titles like You’ve Made the Baby…Now What? or How to Survive Pregnancy: A Guide for Men with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a habit that, despite your efforts, you cannot nag him out of. It’s cute, honestly, how over-the-top he’s gotten with baby prep, especially when you’re often too exhausted to wrap your mind around reading a parenting guide.
“I feel ugly,” you admit quietly, sticky and snotty against his shirt. “I feel disgusting.”
“What?” Eren’s reaction is one of genuine confusion. He pushes you away from him so he can search your face, waiting patiently for you to elaborate.
“I’m gaining an obscene amount of weight, my ankles are the size of my knees, I can’t wear a single one of my rings, what am I supposed to feel like?”
Eren frowns. “Those things are supposed to happen. I read last night–”
“I don’t care!” Your voice cracks under the weight of your frustration, and you press your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars, trying to regain control of your temper. “I don’t care that it’s supposed to happen. It still sucks.”
“I think you’re beautiful,” Eren sounds earnest, but you scoff at him anyway.
“We’re married. You’re supposed to say that.”
“I don’t have to.”
You cock an eyebrow at him. “If you want your head to stay on your shoulders you do.”
Eren laughs at that, tugging you over to stand between his legs as he sits on the bed. “So, you’re serious? You genuinely don’t think you look good pregnant?”
“No,” you rub at your nose, “I don’t.”
Eren looks up at you, cupping your face gently. “I disagree.”
“Do you really?”
“I think you look better than ever.”
“That’s an insult to non-pregnant me,” you roll your eyes, moving to step away, but Eren holds you tight between his legs.
“It’s not,” he insists, “there’s just some things your pregnant body has that you didn’t necessarily have before. Some things that I like.”
You cock an eyebrow at him. “Cankles?”
Eren chuckles breathily, shaking his head. “I adore your cankles, but they weren't exactly the first thing that came to mind. Take these, for one thing.”
Eren presses his nose into your sports bra, hands moving up underneath to palm at your swollen tits. You let out a breathy laugh as he explores, already feeling a low heat beginning to simmer in your core. That’s one perk of entering your second trimester; your hormones might turn on a dime, but your sex drive has skyrocketed.
Eren shoves your bra up to free your tits, groaning appreciatively as he takes a nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking. You watch as he feels his way around with his mouth, humming contentedly under your breath, when suddenly, his eyes fly open and he shoots away from you.
“What?”
Eren shushes you, bringing a hand to the breast that had been in his mouth and squeezing lightly. White liquid beads on your nipple, and you cover your face in shame.
“When did that start?”
“A few days ago,” you admit, trying to push his hands off of you, cheeks burning. Eren swats you away, leaning back into your nipple, sucking harder. You can feel a small stream of milk leaving you, relieving some of the pressure in your tits; a moan rumbles deep in Eren’s chest, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Eren releases your nipple with a loud pop and looks up at you panting, eyes blown wide.
“Is it weird that that’s kinda hot?”
“Probably.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” you hum, threading your hands through his hair and urging him back to your chest, “feels good.”
That’s all Eren needs to hear, diving back into your chest with renewed vigor. As he continues, you realize it doesn’t just feel good, it actually feels incredible. You’ve always had sensitive breasts, but with the pregnancy, sensation has increased tenfold; you can feel your panties getting wetter as the weight of your full breast decreases. When Eren’s gotten all he can from your left nipple, he moves to your right, replacing his mouth on the now-abandoned nipple with his hand to twist gently at the wet skin.
The combined sensation makes your knees buckle; Eren saves you smoothly by wrapping an arm around your lower back, yanking you to him to straddle his leg. It’s the perfect angle for you to roll your hips against his thigh slowly, feeling the much-needed friction of his sweatpants against your cunt.
“Eren…” you breathe out, voice nothing more than a wisp of air.
“I know baby,” Eren speaks directly into your flesh, not willing to back away for even a moment, “feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Feels so good,” you whimper, clutching him to you with fistfuls of his hair.
“Told you this new body’s not so bad, hm?” Eren closes his teeth down on your nipple lightly; you almost keel over from the shockwave it sends through you.
You nod, rubbing yourself against his thigh faster. It’s awkward and cumbersome with your belly in the way, but it’s enough for now, enough to light your nerves on fire in that way that only Eren’s ever been able to.
“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” Eren mutters, grabbing onto your hips to help you get your rhythm right, “you’re so perfect, and you don’t even see it.”
Your fingers dig into his arms as you moan. “But my stomach–”
“But nothing,” Eren kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “love your stomach, love your tits, love all of it. You think it doesn’t make me so fucking hard, watching you walk around with that big belly and knowing what it came from? I did that. We did that, didn’t we baby?”
“Mhm,” you bite into his shoulder, the friction on your clit through your sweatpants is getting to your head, making you dizzy. “Eren, Eren–”
“Sh sh sh,” Eren shushes you, moving so that he can look you in the eyes, “what do you need? Tell me.”
“I don’t– I don’t know, I just…” you can’t find the words, so in need of him that you can’t even decide what sounds best. His mouth? His fingers? All of it?
“Okay, okay,” Eren says quietly, standing you both up only to lay you against the pillows, “I’ve gotcha.”
He nudges his sweatpants down your legs, bringing your panties with them, spreads your legs so he can see the most intimate part of you. Eren brings his hand to your clit, rubbing tentatively, but you’re so desperate for him that it’s enough to make your back arch, a long, throaty moan ripping out of you. He lays beside you, gently playing with your clit and watching in awe at the reaction you give him, already a blubbering mess after only a few minutes.
“So sensitive, aren’t you mama?”
“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, a fresh wave of arousal flooding you at the name, “s-so sensitive. Need to cum, I need, n-need–”
“I’ll make you cum,” Eren promises, sinking a finger into you, “I’ll make you cum, baby.”
“Fuck, Eren, it’s– I can’t–”
“Feel good?”
“So fucking good,” you’re basically sobbing at this point, fingers clenched into the muscles of his bicep, clinging to him and humping his hand. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of sex over the first trimester (“What if I hit the baby’s head?” Eren had asked nervously whenever you approached him) or the rawness of the sensation against your over-sensitive body, but you’ve never been so close to your orgasm so quickly.
You don’t hold out long; Eren’s skilled with even just one finger, and before long, you’re crying out his name, gushing all over his hand. Eren presses his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss despite having utterly destroyed you less than thirty seconds ago.
“Ready for me?”
“Sit,” you pant, pointing to the massive stack of pillows against your headboard. Eren raises his eyebrows in surprise, but does as he’s told, only pausing to pull his clothes off. The loss of the stupid dad t-shirt is a relief as much as feeling his bare chest under your hands. Due to your hormones, you’ve thrown Eren out of the house several times, and you’ve demanded to be alone enough to where his only solution is to go to the gym downstairs and work out until you’ve calmed down. It shows: his chest has grown broader and stronger, and the veins on his arms are nearly popping through the skin. “You look good.”
“Yeah?” Eren offers a shit-eating grin, flexing his bicep ever so subtly. “You should see yourself.”
“You seriously think I look good like this?” You’re straddling his hips now, rubbing your clit on his bare cock. It’s a lewd sight, his cock drooling on his abs, glistening with your cum; your cunt clenches around nothing, more than ready to be filled.
“Mhm, you look so fucking good like that,” Eren grunts, hands finding your hips again and lifting you up to sink you down on his cock, both of you letting out loud, satisfied groans, “but you look much better like this.”
You grind your hips against his, not possessing the energy to bounce your now-heavier body, but it makes you see stars. Eren rarely lets you ride him, much preferring to bend you over or pin you to the bed himself, but with your bump, you now have an excuse to hop on top of him whenever you like. It’s been close to a decade of fucking him, but the full stretch of him never fails to shock you, the way he pushes into you until you’re positive he’s in your stomach. With Eren sitting up, his cock stays firmly nestled against your g-spot, pushing little bits of squirt out of you with each movement of your hips.
“Eren–” you whimper, holding your breasts as you rock into him.
“Shit- you’re so tight like this,” Eren says through his clenched jaw, throwing his head back against the headboard, “why don’t you ride me more often?”
“You don’t let me,” you say with a watery giggle.
“Stupid,” Eren gasps, “‘m so fucking stupid.”
You’re too fucked out to voice your agreement, opting for sliding a hand down your body to flick at your clit. You can’t quite reach it around your bump, though, a discontented noise leaving your lips. Eren opens his eyes, takes notice of the way you’re hunching your back, and swats your hand away.
“I got it, I got it,” he pants, tucking his hand underneath your swollen belly to rub your clit just the way he knows you like it.
“Oh, f-fuck,” you choke out, throwing your head back.
“Good?”
“Yeah,” you hiss, “‘s perfect.”
“Take what you need, mama,” Eren’s watching you intently, a glimmer of admiration in his eye, “take what you need.”
You’re moaning pitifully, loud and wanton as Eren’s cock moves inside of you. Your cunt tightens around him desperately as the bubble building in your stomach threatens to explode.
“Think you get wetter like this, all swollen with my baby,” Eren muses, leaning forward to latch his mouth around one of your nipples where more milk has already started to pool. His words have a visceral reaction on you; you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you spiral towards your release.
“I think–I think I’m gonna– oh fuck, don’t stop,” you croon, rocking your hips as fast as you can manage. Eren mumbles around your nipple, something about how beautiful you look, and you come undone around him, grinding your hips hard against his and cradling him to your chest. He might have a point- there’s damn near a puddle of your arousal at the base of where you’re connected, slicking up the skin on his hips and the inside of your thighs.
“Better?” Eren pulls you in for a kiss; you can feel him grinning through it.
“Maybe a little,” you admit, laughing light and watery against his mouth.
“Mmm,” Eren hums, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you only to drop you down again and turn your laughter to a quiet whimper, “not good enough. Need you to be much better.”
“Fuck me, then,” you nip at his bottom lip, earn yourself a deep groan.
“Can you— can you hold yourself up like this?” Eren scooches both of you down, albeit, a little awkwardly, so that he can lay flat on the bed. He moves you up until you’ve only got him halfway inside of you, cocking a questioning eyebrow at you.
“Yeah, I–I think so.”
“And you’re sure I’m not going to hurt–”
“Jesus Christ– no Eren, it’s fine, just– fuck,” he cuts you off with a sharp snap of his hips up into yours, grinning menacingly when your eyes roll back.
“Like that?”
“Just like that,” you moan, annoyance wiped from you with one clean stroke. Eren takes that for the green light that it is and starts pistoning his hips up into you, swearing under his breath. Even though he’d instructed you to hold yourself up, he makes good use of his new muscles, suspending you at the perfect height to feel every inch of him as he fucks up into you like his life depends on it.
“You look so fucking gorgeous like this,” Eren growls, “all swollen with my fuckin’ baby. Gonna keep you like this, give you as many as you want.”
“Eren–” you choke out, suffocating on the way he’s fucking you, his words, him. For the first time in months, you feel amazing, holding your chest and groaning long and loud as Eren thrusts up into you.
“Baby, I’m- fuck, not gonna–” Eren cuts himself off with something that sounds suspiciously close to a whimper, throwing his head back.
“Cum in me,” you pant, nodding urgently at him, “want it so bad.”
“Oh fuck,” Eren groans, hips moving impossibly faster. His fingers are digging into your hips near to the point of pain, and that little frown he makes when he’s about to cum is crumpling his face. You do want it, badly.
“Please Eren, I need it,” you gasp, legs trembling on either side of his hips.
“Fucking love you, love you so much,” Eren slurs, hips stuttering. With a long, throaty moan, he slams you down one final time, cumming deep inside of you. You grind against him as he does, moaning along with him at the familiar warmth in your belly. Exhausted, you momentarily forget about your bump and try to collapse facefirst on him- that’s enough to snap Eren out of his post-orgasm haze.
“Whoa, whoa,” Eren shoves you back upright, lifting you under your shoulders and laying you on your back, “careful.”
You wince. “Shit, sorry. Sometimes I forget. It’s still sort of new.”
“I know,” Eren agrees, eyes locked lovingly on your baby bump, “love it, though.”
“Really?”
Eren cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at you. “If that didn’t convince you, I don’t know what will.”
You giggle at that; he’s always been good at this, cheering you up and diffusing your worries like it’s second nature. After ten years, it probably is at this point.
“I don’t mean to be so down on myself, really,” you sigh, tracing a finger over where his hand’s splayed on your stomach, “it’s just…so much harder than I thought it would be.”
Eren nods thoughtfully. “That’s reasonable. But you’re so good at it.”
“I haven’t even– what?” The insecurities that you’ve been successfully masking under good natured teasing and occasional annoyance come slipping from between your lips. You’ve thought it for weeks; how Eren’s so into all the baby stuff, so enthusiastic about learning everything he can, while all you’ve managed is trying not to gag when he cooks eggs in the morning and picking out some onesies. “What about all of your books and your podcasts and crap? You’re the one doing everything.”
“That’s all I can do,” Eren scoffs, “you’re doing all the hard stuff, like carrying the baby around and puking every morning and crying all the time–”
“Hey!”
“I’m serious,” Eren shushes you, “you’re putting in all the legwork. I mean, you’re literally growing our baby. You’re a fucking rockstar mom already. If anyone’s not doing enough here, it’s me.”
That’s one thing about Eren that will never get easier; his deep, unwavering admiration for you, no matter what you’re doing. Sure, it’s endearing when Eren spins you around in his arms for something as simple as finally getting that croissant recipe to come out well, but when he’s praising you for something that’s actually difficult? It’s sweet enough to give you a cavity, warm your heart, and turn your cheeks pink all at once, even after all this time.
“Well, if you’d like to take a shift carrying her around, be my guest. She’s a chunky little thing already,” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into Eren’s ribs to mask the flush rising to your face.
“I’d do it for you if I could,” Eren sighs in faux-thoughtfulness, “but I wouldn’t look half as hot.”
You giggle furiously when he lands a slap to your ass, swatting at his chest. “God, it still doesn’t feel real, does it? A little girl that’s half you, half me.”
“It does and it doesn’t,” Eren shrugs, bringing a hand back to your stomach, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about it since Italy.”
You gape at him. “That long?”
“You know I’m always ahead of you on this stuff,” Eren teases, squeezing your cheeks together, “knew I wanted you first, knew I wanted you back first, knew we should get married…”
“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes at his bragging, “it’s just, like…are we ready? To do this?”
“This?” Eren cocks his head.
“The whole…‘parents’ thing.”
“Putting aside the fact that you're way too late to be having those kinds of thoughts,” Eren says, rubbing your lower back, “of course we’re ready. There’s no perfect parents, but I believe in us– believe in you. Gonna be the best mama any baby’s ever had, I know you will.”
“I don’t even…oh, Eren.” You’re tearing up again–damn hormones. Eren wipes at your tears, planting a big kiss on your forehead.
“I mean it. You’re going to be great, already are,” he says, smiling down at you. He holds you just like that for a few moments, letting you nuzzle into his chest, until his little grin grows wicked. “Although…the only thing I can say I am worried about is which one of us is going to accidentally teach her her first swear word. Should we bet on it?"
Even through your tears, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You and I both know that’s going to be Jean. Especially after what you taught Clara the last time we babysat.”
Eren barks out a laugh. “Hey, hearing her call Jean ‘Daddy Jackass’ was funny, and you know it!”
“Thanks for reminding me,” you smirk, “now I know what I’m teaching our little girl first.”
“No way!”
#eren jaeger x reader#eren yeager x reader#eren jaeger smut#eren yeager smut#aot x reader#snk x reader#snk fanfiction#aot fanfiction#eren jaeger fanfic#eren jaeger fanfiction#ti penso universe#ti penso uni
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Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter One)
Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.
Pairing / Joel Miller x Female Reader
Word Count / 3.4K
Warnings / soft!Joel, reader is a widow, in depth discussions and descriptions of grief and depression, will have eventual smut, SLOW BURN.
Authors Note / I AM SO PROUD OF THIS LITTLE STORY YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I've wanted to write soft!Joel for so long so I hope you love it as much as I do! If you do enjoy it, reblogs, asks and likes are my drug so I'd love to know what you think! Also considering following for more!
Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. There were days that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw back the sheets of your bed and get up. For the first month, you think you managed to shower three times. No point if no-one was going to see you. You hadn’t left your house since the day of the funeral, life had become a monotonous circle of waking up, soaking your pillow with tears until you made yourself sick, throwing on the same clothes as before and then doing the same thing but led on the couch.
People had reassured you it would get easier. That each day it would subside, little by little, and you cursed them for being right. The longer you sat with your misery, the easier it became. One morning, a few months ago, you remember waking up, only this time you didn’t roll over and place your hand on the empty side of the bed and cry when you realized your husband wasn’t there anymore. You got up and showered, taking 15 minutes to brush the matted mess of your hair, and you dressed in new clothes.
You managed to walk to the market hall and purchase food with your ration cards and Maria had almost fallen over when she saw you in the aisle. That was the worst thing though. You’d been absent from life in Jackson for almost six months, and whenever you left your house people looked at you. Some still had those sympathetic eyes, telling you they were sorry for your loss, but there were the others who judged you. How pathetic you were for falling into despair like you had.
It wasn’t as if he’d met a violent end, he was quite lucky, actually. In this world death came at the hands of evil, whether it was being taken and tortured by raiders, or torn limb from limb by infected. Your husband had died peacefully, drifting off in his sleep in the hospital. The doctors had said it was cancer, which seemed painfully unkind to him. He’d never smoked in his life and was probably the healthiest person you’d ever known, but when was life ever fair?
You could tell they whispered once you’d passed. How dare she be so upset when my husband was killed on patrol? How lucky you were to have been able to say goodbye and hold his hand as he passed, when someone else turned into one of those things all alone. So now it wasn’t grief that kept you behind closed doors, but shame. Shame at knowing you thought they were right, that not being able to pull yourself together was selfish. Selfish to all the people who had managed to carry on with their lives after losing someone, selfish to the community for not being able to pull your weight. You were stuck and you had no idea what to do about it.
The only way you could face leaving your home these days was on Maria’s comforting arm. She’d been your friend for years, she and Tommy seemingly the only people who understood you. Didn’t force you to do anything, let you come to your own decisions when you felt ready. No-one would dare look at you or speak in hushed tones whilst she was around.
The sun was soaking Jackson now, it was summer, and you were grateful for the warmth of the sun on your skin, everything felt better with the sun on your back. With summer came one of your favourites of life’s simple pleasures. Strawberries. In the market you picked up as many as you could purchase after buying your essentials. Maria walked you home, helped you put away everything and then left with a comforting hug.
You carefully placed a large handful of the fruit in a bowl, rinsing it under running water. You were about to sit down on your couch to eat them, but the sun was filtering invitingly through your front windows. You stripped off your jacket, leaving you in your simple tank top and jeans before opening your front door to sit on the bench on your porch. You had sunglasses resting on your face, Tommy had found them on a patrol trip a few months ago and you were grateful for the safety you felt from them. People couldn’t walk past and meet your eye.
You were finishing your third strawberry when Tommy walked past, a man you didn’t know on his left shoulder. He took a look to your house and smiled on seeing you sat in a patch of sunlight, he waved, which you return, then he turns to the mysterious man on his left to say something before they start walking over.
“It’s good to see you out, honey,” He smiled, walking to lean over the railing of your porch, “What’cha got there?” He asked, motioning his head to your bowl of strawberries.
“You want one?” You asked, picking the bowl up and walking over to meet him, he gladly takes the biggest fruit in the bowl, pinching the spidery leaves off before putting the whole thing in his mouth, “How about you?” You asked, extending the bowl to Tommy’s mysterious companion.
He takes a strawberry as well, doing as Tommy did, but he takes smaller bites of the fruit, like he’s savoring it, “This here’s my brother Joel,” Tommy speaks, Joel extends his hand and you take it, shaking it softly in greeting, “He arrived a few weeks back, he’s been getting settled with his daught… with Ellie, but I thought it was high time he started pulling his weight.”
He had a smirk on his face as he said it and you could see the beginnings of a smile on Joel’s face too, “This one’s a real taskmaster,” You say to Joel, a smirk across your lips, “You’ll be wishing we had a retirement age soon enough.”
“Can’t think where he gets it from,” Joel chuckles, “You were takin’ notes all the time we worked together before weren’t you?”
Tommy smiles and nods, “Learnt from the best,” There’s another round of chuckles from the men, “Listen, we should get a move on, but I mean it, it’s nice to see you out like this.”
“Thanks Tommy,” You offer a small smiled, “Here, take a strawberry for the road.”
Both men take another fruit gladly before the way and make their way back down the street, leaving you on your own once more. You slide the sunglasses back onto your eyes and take your place in the path of sunlight on the bench. You sit there for a while, eating your strawberries, thinking about all the times you and your husband had done the same, holding hands as the sunset, cuddling up into his side when the temperature dropped. You realized suddenly that you weren’t sad. That the tears that usually threatened to fall were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was just a feeling of happiness, grateful that you’d experienced love in a world where it had seemed impossible. Sure, you wished he would reach over and take your hand in his like he used to, squeeze it and place a soft kiss to your palm, but you were no longer ruled by the grief that had consumed you all those months ago.
*
“She seemed nice.” Joel muses as he walks with Tommy.
“She’s lovely,” He replies simply, “Just had a pretty rough time of it recently.”
Joel hums in acknowledgement as his boots hit the ground in time with Tommy’s, “When you said it was good to see her out, what did you mean?”
Tommy sighs at his question, but not out of frustration like he usually did when Joel asked him questions, more out of sympathy, “Her husband died about a year ago,” He begins to explain, “Nothin’ violent or anythin’ like that, the doctors reckoned it was cancer, but she took it real hard, I don’t think she got out of bed for the first week, and then after his funeral she just kinda withdrew, she’s been all alone in that house for months, refuses to leave unless it’s with Maria because people talk.”
“People talk about her?” Joel is shocked, in a world where loss in inevitable, what makes someone else’s grief less worthy than others?
“We’re safe here,” Tommy says, steering him into a building at the end of the street, “But that doesn’t mean people don’t die when they’re out there,” He references his patrol men, he’d lost a few which he would always hold heavy in his heart, “Maria told me once that when she took her to the market a few months ago, some busybody wives were talkin’ about how unfair it was she got to say goodbye, that he’d been sedated and it was easy for him.”
Joel stops in his tracks, letting Tommy walk in front of him. They’re in the gun store, not for anything in particular, just so Joel knows where everything is so he can stop following his brother round like a lost puppy. His mind inevitably wanders to his own grief in this moment. The pain of losing his own daughter, the all-consuming feeling of ‘what is the point in life anymore?’ without her. The scar on the right side of his face and the hearing loss in the same ear when he’d tried to end it all. He hadn’t been strong, not really. If he hadn’t of flinched that would have been it, the easy way out, as some would have said. He’d struggled for a long time with his survival but that didn’t mean his was worth more than your grief, or yours more than his. It wasn’t that simple.
“I spoke to them, told ‘em if I heard ‘em gossiping again then we’d have no issues moving them on their way, but I suppose people are always going to talk, they just do it where we can’t hear them.”
“I’m guessin’ she knows?”
“Of course she knows, Joel, that’s why she shuts herself away, easier that way I guess.”
“Doesn’t make it fair though, feelin’ like you can’t leave your house because people are gonna judge the way your husband died.”
“She’s been better recently,” Tommy speaks, leaning against the table behind him, “Still won’t really go anywhere without Maria, but seein’ her today, it was nice.”
Joel nods his way through Tommy explaining the signing out system for guns, follows him around to the stables where he shakes the hand of the young girl in charge of caring for them and then settles himself next to his brother at the bar for a drink. All the while, he can’t stop his mind drifting back to you and your loneliness, your despair at your loss, or the rotten porch step he’d noticed at the front of your house that might just give him the reason to get a little closer to you.
*
A few mornings later, there is a soft knock at your door. Your face contorts in confusion, Maria wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow. Leaving the coffee pot to its filtering, you walk slowly to the door, opening it to find Joel stood on your porch, toolbox in hand and planks of wood resting against the railing.
“Good mornin’,” He croons, “Not interrupin’ anythin’ am I?”
You shake your head, “Can I help you?” You asked, wincing slightly at the defensive tone of your voice.
“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but when I passed with Tommy the other day, I noticed your porch step was rotting,” He points to the old timbers behind him, “I’m surprised you’ve not fallen through it already, so do you mind if I fix them?”
Your exterior softens and a small smile pulls at your lips, “Of course,” You say, “I’m just making some coffee, do you want some?”
“If you don’t mind sharin’, then I’d love some.”
You leave him on the porch to get started. Your mug is already set next to the coffee pot, you open the cupboard and instinctively reach for the only other mug you ever needed. It had meant nothing to you when you moved in. It was white and had a pattern of sausage dogs printed on it, but it had always been his. You hold it in your hands when you realise what you’ve done. His face flashes behind your eyes. He’s standing in front of you, his hair tousled from sleep, his voice still low and raspy. He thanks you as he takes hold of his mug, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You set it back in the cupboard like it had burned your palms, reaching instead of the plain black mug at the back of the cupboard.
You rest your palms on the counter, closing your eyes to take deep breaths, feeling the weight of your body through to the ground. Once you don’t feel the wave of sadness flowing through you any longer, your quickly pour the coffee into the mugs, taking them out to the porch where Joel is currently working to take the rotten boards up, not that it’s taking much work, a little force from his hands and the wood in crumbling.
“Here you go,” You say softly, setting the mug down next to his toolbox, “I hope you don’t mind it black, I spent all my rations on strawberries this week, so no milk.”
“Just how I like it,” He says, looking up at you, “Thank you.”
You take a seat on the bench out front, it’s been a long time since you had the company of someone that wasn’t Maria or Tommy and it was nice to watch him work whilst you sat in the sun.
“Thank you, by the way, I didn’t realise it had gotten so bad,” You remark, and before you can think about what you’re saying, you add, “My husband always used to handle this stuff.”
You press your fingers to your lips as Joel’s movement still slightly, he knows what you’ve said, but he continues working, “It’s alright, this is what I used to do before all of this, so I’ve got an eye for rotting wood.”
“You were a builder?” You asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from your loss.
“I was, Tommy and I were contractors, worked on a bunch of different sites together, kinda annoying the world ended, we’d just booked a really big job, was gonna pay the bills and then some for once, my daughter had already spent the money on a trip to Disney.”
“Ellie?” You enquire, remembering the name Tommy had given.
He shakes his head as he sits back on his knees, coffee mug in hand, “No, she’s not mine by blood, she came along a lot later, I lost my daughter on outbreak day.”
“Oh,” You say simply, “I’m sorry Joel.”
“It’s alright,” He shrugs, taking a mouthful of coffee, “I struggled, for a long time, didn’t see how it was fair, but it’s been easier recently, all because of Ellie, and this.” He motions around to the town.
You’re silent for a while, your gaze flits between Joel working and the dregs of liquid in your cup. You understand in a way. The loss is different, but it’s loss all the same.
“What was his name?” Joel asks quietly as he’s rooting through his toolbox for some nails, “Your husband.”
“Mark,” You speak quietly, realizing quickly it was probably too quiet for him to hear, “His name was Mark.”
“Were you together long?”
“Eighteen years,” You answer, “He was my neighbour in the first QZ I was in, I’d lost my parents a few years before the outbreak so I was on my own, he moved in a year later and would always wake me up every morning when he stomped about to go to work,” You were smiling, recounting how you’d met, “One morning I’d had enough, I went right over there, pounded on the door and gave him what for. Said I was tired of waking up to the sound of his work boots every morning, and I guess the rest is history.”
Joel smiles as he reaches for his hammer, nailing in the new boards, “Love at first sight?” He asked, worried at first that it’s too personal a question.
“Something like that,” You offer in reply, “I guess it just kinda happened really, like most things do.”
There’s silence between you again as Joel hammers in the last of the nails. He stands up, pressing his full weight on the step, “All done,” He declares, shutting away his toolbox, “Don’t have to worry about you fallin’ through it now.”
You stand up to admire his handiwork, you must admit he was good at what he did. Efficient but thorough, the step had never looked so good, even when you’d first moved in, “Thank you Joel,” You place a hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze, “I really appreciate it.”
“No problem,” He bends to pick up his coffee mug and hands it over to you, “Nothin’ else need sorting?”
“I mean, nothing that risks death or serious injury,” You jest, “But there is something you might be able to help with.”
You gesture for him to follow you through the house, setting the dirty mugs in the sink as you pass through. You open the back door and motion for him to join you. The garden is a mess, there’s no beating around the bush here. The grass is out of control, but that’s because you haven’t been able to go and get your gas ration for the lawnmower. The decking out back is fine, Mark’s handiwork in the year before he died, but you point to the unfinished table and chairs in the corner, or rather the pile of wood that never got to become the table and chairs.
“Mark was going to build some table and chairs, you know, so we could have guests over or sit out here in the evenings, but he got sick before he could really start,” There’s a lump in your throat now and you’re willing yourself not to cry, not now, in front of a man you barely know, but nothing you do can quell the feeling inside of you and a few tears fall down your cheek, “God, I’m so sorry,” You sniffed, “I’ve done so well not to do this today.”
“Hey, it’s alright.” Joel soothes, he pressed a firm hand to your shoulder for comfort but keeps his distance, which you are grateful for.
He gives you a moment to compose yourself, watching closely as you rub the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath, “It would just be nice to have somewhere to sit where people aren’t going to watch me.”
Joel’s heart almost breaks at your words. He doesn’t know you, not in the slightest, but the thought that you felt like you had to hide away, in your own community, the place that was meant to make you feel some semblance of normal, was preposterous to him.
“I’ll build you something, don’t worry,” He reassures, “Tommy has me on patrol for the next few days, but as soon as I can, I promise I’ll build you the best damn table and chairs you’ve ever seen.”
You laugh now, through the remnants of your tears, “Thank you.” Is all you can manage to say.
He’s turning around then, you go to follow him, but he stops in his tracks, eyes admiring the trellis against the back wall of your home, full in bloom of sweet peas, “These are beautiful.” He comments.
“They’re sweet peas,” You inform him, “Maria found the seeds for me, said something about it being good for me to have something to put my energy into,” You shrug, “I guess she was right.”
You reach out and pluck one of the deep purple blooms, “These are my favourites,” You say, turning the bloom over in your fingers before you hand it to him, he looks confused, “Sweet peas are meant to symbolize kindness and friendship,” You explain, “Also fond goodbyes, but I think kindness is more appropriate here.”
He takes the bloom and tucks the stem into the breast pocket, the petals of the flower peeking out where you can both see it, “Well then, thank you,” He nods, “I’ll see you soon, sweet pea.”
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#Pedro Pascal#the last of us#the last of us hbo#Joel Miller#Joel Miller smut#Joel Miller fanfic#Joel Miller fic#Joel Miller fan fiction#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us fanfic#Joel Miller x you#Joel Miller x reader#Joel Miller x female reader#Joel Miller x f!reader#Joel Miller Pedro Pascal#GOY
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I’ll comfort you!
Nagito Komaeda x Depressed!Fem!Reader
So, hey! I know this is short but I really wanted to write something and yeah! but don’t worry, I’m planning to write some smut with nagito soon, after all, I want to write something for my birthday that was a few days ago, right?? also, please, feel free to request anything! read the rules and the masterlist first tho!
cw: angst, suicide mention, self-harm, depression, paranoia, bullying, mentally unstable reader, nagito comforts the reader with kisses and also with words, touching, (slight) nsfw
You were leaning against the wall, sobbing hoping your boyfriend won’t hear you. But you wanted Nagito to hear all this crying a lot! seeing you like this probably will hurt him but it’ll hurt you more if he’s not by your side in this hard time.
You had always a knife with you, and you think it’s the perfect moment to actually use it. You grabbed it and put it close to your chest, but unfortunately for you Nagito opened the door.
“Hey love I’m gonna- huh?” Nagito whined at the scene in front of him.
You start crying even more, looking at him desperately for him to stop you or do anything. Your body was shaking, and your lips tried to speak. “I.. I’m so.. sorry.. N-Nagito..” it’s the only thing you could say.
“that’s so hopeless…” He said, but thought it’s not the moment for his shitty talk and quickly came closer to you, lifting your chin up. Your face was a mess, tears dropping desperately from your face.
“What happened, y/n? why this is happening?” He asked concerned, not wanting to see you like this, but since you’re his girlfriend, he cares a lot about you.
“T-they bully me.. constantly” you looked down, not wanting to burst into crying anymore.
“Your classmates?”
You nodded. “i-it’s not only that.. paranoia is stressing me out, everyday I think something terrible will happen to me, and I can’t just take it anymore, I could just kill myself al-“ you were intrrerupted by him kissing you.
“Everything will be fine, my hope. You need to shine, and also tell me everything that is bothering you”
You blushed slightly, his help was necessary after all for you to calm down, at least a little.
“As long as I’m here, nothing and no one will do anything to you. I’m usually useless but.. I can assure you’ll be safe, my love” He said gently touching your right cheek, you wanted to tell him that you love him for so long. But you were confused, and prefered not to. This is the first time he is this close to you, hugging you tightly with his hands around your waist.
Nagito wiped your tears away, looking at you still concerned and having a sad expression on his face. You didn’t want to see him like this. So you were willing to let him do anything to you at this moment.
“Don’t cry anymore, princess. Now that I know this was happening with you the whole time, I’ll protect you, your hope needs to shine, and you as my girlfriend, need to be happy”
You smiled at him finally saying the words that you always wanted to say. “I-I love you, Nagito”
He was caught off-guard, but after seconds, he got it and his smile widened. Suddenly leaving sweet kisses on your neck.
“Nggh! Ah~” you moaned. It was your sensitive spot and he knew it damn well. He noticed that you’re getting pleasure from that, and he smirked.
“I love you too, my hope” He stopped, looking at you and your body shaking in his arms.
Having those sensations with him, you knew he was the one for you.
#danganronpa#dr nagito#nagito komaeda#goodbye despair#nagito x y/n#sdr2 nagito#danganronpa smut#oneshot#fanfic#sdr2 goodbye despair#fem reader#danganronpa angst#nagito komaeda x reader
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Can you please do a yandere hyung line reaction to MC being jealous and tries to hide it ( For jin could you please make it as his wife has come back for a short holiday or something)
A/N: My brain did not want to do the writing thing the last couple of days, but I got there. I think these stories are good? but somehow they all ended up a bit soft. I hope you like them though 🤞 because it was a great request! Thank you 💜💜💜
@blacksnow160
Summary: Hyung line reaction when you get jealous.
Trigger warning: Smut, violence, blood-drinking, murder, abuse, yandere themes.
Alpha! Namjoon
Normally you didn't consider yourself clingy. You enjoyed your personal space and your time alone. But at the same time, you've also become accustomed to Namjoon dropping everything to take care of you. This entire week though, he's been preoccupied with a territorial issue, and the last 3 nights he hasn't even come to bed.
Leaving you feeling a little discarded, to say the least.
Nevertheless, you're a mature adult, and you were able to let it go with the knowledge that Namjoon is an Alpha who has responsibilities and knowing that he would still rather be with you.
It is, however, a comfort that you have trouble holding on to whenever you see the new girl around him. It's not like you're jealous. It's just that she doesn't seem to know how to behave respectfully or appropriately around Namjoon. She always stands too close or looks at him a bit too much, and she's way too touchy. Only his elbow, arm, or shoulder. But it's like, get your fucking hands off him.
Rationally, you know Joon is your mate and you own his heart, mind, and body. Still, it doesn't stop you from tossing restlessly, laying in bed at 2 am, once again alone. The two things added together making you feeling sour. Feeling sick of being sent away while this other girl gets to stick around being way too familiar with your Boyfriend.
Coming downstairs in your pyjamas, you weave in among the wolves working your way to Namjoon. Standing at the dining table, looking over a mess of paper, he notices you right away a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
"Y/n, what are you doing up?"He asks, checking his watch.
There she is again, right next to him. Her hand casually coming off his shoulder when she sees you.
"It's late. Go back to bed, Beautiful." he coos.
You ignore his instruction. Wrapping to his side by pushing yourself between him and this girl, creating space for yourself with a not-so-subtle shoving of your elbow into her arm. Smiling up at him sweetly as he accepts your presence, hugging you tightly.
"We're going to be busy most of the night. You should go to bed." he leans down to whisper, his breath tickling your ear. He's trying not to draw the focus from the rest of the table into your personal discussion.
"I'll go up when you come with me." You whisper back.
"It's going to be a few more hours still baby." He sighs, seeming frustrated with the circumstances.
"Then I'm staying here."
"You shouldn't-"
"Don't argue with me Kim Namjoon. You're not going to win this one." While it's said in jest, you also mean it. He'll have to drag you upstairs to make you go. And if he steps foot in that bedroom, you both know you'll be able to make him stay.
"Oh really?" He challenges, fighting the smile growing on his face, not wanting to encourage your mischievous behaviour.
Grabbing the collar of his black tee, you pull him down to your height, smacking your lips against his. Kissing him passionately and longingly. Something you haven't been able to do for nearly a full week.
Letting his shirt go, his smile is fully grown. His dimples on display.
"Really." You finalize, looking up at him coquettishly.
You can see the struggle playing in his mind. He's extremely tempted to throw you over his shoulder and take you upstairs right now, his wolf fighting to shirk his responsibilities and give in to desire. His chest rumbling lowly as he winks down at you.
"Okay baby." his fingers dig into your hips, "If you're gonna play dirty, you can stay." He teases with a chuckle. Resisting the bait.
Feeling calmed and relaxed on the warmth of his hold again, a smug sense of pride fills your chest. From the corner of your eye, you can see her attention on the two of you. Your ego is not able to resist, and you shoot a cold pointed glare at her. A smirk creeping onto your face as she looks down, avoiding your eye line.
"Seeing as it's late, do you wanna make coffee for everyone?" You order her in the form of a question, speaking loudly enough for both her and Namjoon to hear your sassy, obvious tone.
She looks a little stunned. She'd just been promoted to the inner circle for this problem-solving session, and she doesn't seem pleased at being asked to perform menial tasks. Trying to go over your head, she looks at the Alpha for confirmation. But he doesn't give it to her. Instead, you can feel him nod, supporting your order. A full smile filling your face as you get his backing.
"Of course, Luna." she obeys, looking a little dejected.
"Thank you." you shoo her to action with a sing-song voice. Curling into Namjoons side, you can't help but feel authoritative. And a little bit victorious.
King! Seokjin
It had been nearly two weeks since you had seen Jin last. As frustrating as it was, you were genuinely missing him. There was a kind of energy he had when it was just the two of you. Something that filled you, and without him you were feeling like your own spirit was draining away.
It would be okay though, today Jin was coming back from visiting his wife and children. You're sure he missed you just as much as you missed him. That he was as excited to see you, as you were to see him. You were a little worried knowing that you would have to satisfy his sadism first, but you can tolerate it, thinking that at least you'll get to see his smile.
As the day is drawing to an end, you've finished all your tasks but you refuse to retire for the night, certain the King is going to call for you at any minute. Feeling a mix of excitement and relief when the staff manager comes to collect you.
Nearly skipping you rush to the dining hall, having been instructed to serve dinner to the King and his guest. Working with another maid to bring the meals from the kitchen.
Walking in, the smile you were trying to conceal disappears completely. Your stomach dropping. Jin's guest is the Princess. His wife.
You have to control your expression to hide your distress, feeling sick while serving him. His wife never comes down. She hasn't in a year and a half. Jin doesn't even really like her. It doesn't make sense why she's here.
With a curt bow, you remove the closh and place the plate down. Meeting the King's eye for a moment, you do your best to placify your appearance. Your efforts cracking when you see his lips pulling ever so slightly into a knowing smile.
He dismisses the other maid, but not you. Sending you to the waiting station by the wall. You're stuck watching over their conversation. Feeling more and more insecure as you look at the Princess's regality and beauty. Getting more frustrated as your mind runs rampant.
How long is she going to stay? It doesn't seem like they brought the Princes, so she has to go back soon. And what kind of mother leaves her children alone? It doesn't even matter that she's here, you know Jin likes you more. So what if she is really pretty, he can't hurt her like he can you. You make him happy. She's just a prop he was given to secure a treaty. He actually chose you.
Slowly, you're building yourself into a craze. Making yourself feel sad until the very end of the meal. Finally, their dinner date ends and he stands, kindly bowing to see her off. Leaving only you and him in the hall.
Relaxing back in his seat, he finishes the remainder of his drink.
"Y/n." Holding his empty glass to the side, he calls you over. You follow his gesture and top up his cup. Avoiding looking directly at him again. Pacing back to your place when he stops you.
"Come here." He grins, enjoying how uncomfortable you are. "You met my wife today." He pushes the difficult topic, again probing for your reaction.
Nodding softly, you're trying to not let your bitterness out. You know Jin doesn't like it when you pout.
"Are you jealous Princess?" He holds his hand out for you to take, leading you closer to him. Leaning back to create a space for you on his lap. Guiding you over him with your legs spread.
"No, your Majesty." You shake your head, your pause and hesitation giving away the truth.
Jin's gentle touch comes off your hand, his grip instead ripping back your hair, arching your back and nearly yanking you off of his lap. Biting back a shriek, you can't keep entirely quiet, whimpering as his fist curls tighter and closer to your scalp.
"Are you lying to me?" His mouth latches onto your shoulder, biting into your muscle vindictively. Unbridling that scream you had tried to smother.
"Yes. I'm sorry your Majesty!" you cry out, tears building in your eyes. "I'm jealous. I missed you. I want you-" all the truth is pouring out, but you hesitate worried you're being too bold, "all to myself."
His grip comes out of your hair. His hand instead raking down your chest, leaving painful red marks as each nail digs along the skin. Continuing lower, tearing the buttons on your dress. Yanking down your bra also, exposing your breasts. His other hand hikes the fabric up around your thighs, stopping on your waist, lowering your hips into him.
Pinching your nipple, he draws you closer until his lips are just off yours. Gasping through the initial pain, you can only whine and bite your lip to further keep quiet.
"Go on Princess. Prove to me why I should have missed you."
Assassin! Yoongi
Over the past couple of weeks, Yoongi would be gone for days at a time. Coming back in a strangely talkative and happy mood. You were as miserable and depressed as always, but his vigour was somehow revitalizing and comforting. It made him easier to deal with. It made him less moody. And it made your life easier. So to begin with you were very happy that he was happy.
That was until he mentioned a name in passing. A woman's name. Someone he was working with on a project.
As soon as you heard him talking positively about her, a pang of anxiety spiked through your stomach. From then on it rested in your gut, making you irritated, uncomfortable, and flustered every time you heard about or thought about her.
It was the strangest thing. You hated Yoongi, you're sure of it. But he was all you had. And hearing him talk about another woman, even though it sounded platonic, the adoration in his voice was hurting you in a way you never expected.
Slowly you had to work through this feeling on your own. You couldn't bear to let Yoongi know, not certain what he would do with the information that you were, in lack of a better word, jealous.
The more you heard about this woman, you knew you could never be as impressive as her. Every detail sounding equally terrifying and awe-inspiring. To be honest the specifics slipped your mind, as you were mostly wrapped up in self-pity when Yoongi spoke about her.
All you know is that you felt inferior, and you were craving, longing to feel that kind of importance to Yoongi, also. Resenting the fact that this other person was so easily able to bring joy and energy out of him.
Over the next couple of weeks, you spent every waking moment thinking about how to make Yoongi happy. Not just avoiding annoying him, like you usually did, but instead thinking about how to bring him genuine enjoyment.
One time you spent hours making him a meal. Making something you knew he would love. But, unfortunately, he only complained about the mess. He said he wasn't hungry and left you to throw the food away and clean up.
Another time, you had planned a full evening of activities. Movies, snacks, games that would help you get to know each other better, anything fun you could organize with your limited resources. Only, he wasn't in the mood to play, or talk. He only wanted one thing, and when he was done, he left you alone in your room, feeling used and a bit sore.
However, that gave you an idea. Maybe you could connect with him physically first. Then that might give you a way for something, anything more to develop.
This time, you set the house up with candles, music, wine, chocolate strawberries, everything you'd seen in movies. Waiting for him on the couch in something a little provocative. But, as soon as he comes in from the garage he looks more annoyed than impressed. Rolling his eyes, ordering you to your room.
By this stage it's late, you're tired, and you're losing your mind trying to make him happy. You were fighting so hard for his attention, and he was barely tolerating you. You aren't thinking clearly as you snap at him.
"Why?!" You yell, stomping your foot down. "I'm working so hard and you're just being an asshole!"
The words come out and you instantly regret them. His straight expression hardening.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You rush to him, wrapping your arms around his chest trying to soothe any reaction. "Just tell me what I can do." You plead. Exasperated by so many failed attempts.
"That depends. What do you want?" He honestly questions, looking down at you.
You weren't exactly prepared to answer this question. You're not sure you really know.
"I'm your's right?" you say with big eyes, your voice coming out so softly, feeling embarrassed even though you're mimicking his words. "I get that I have to be yours. But then you have to be mine too." Your voice trembles.
Finally, it makes sense to Yoongi. Your change in demeanour, and in behaviour. Why you've been so needy. Why you've been trying to get his attention. He understands now. And that was most of what was annoying him. Not knowing why you were acting differently.
He steps out of your grasp, calling for you to follow him upstairs. You're not so nervous as you do. Surprisingly, the revelation has given Yoongi has a warm smile.
Falling back onto his bed, he taps the space beside him, inviting you to join him. You climb into the middle of the bed, resting in the place he set for you, his arm laid out under your head. He curls into you, gently wrapping his arm over your waist. Hugging you.
For the first time ever, he is showing you some kind of affection. For the first time, he's actually making a gesture of warmth and comfort. You couldn't even let yourself think that Yoongi could be capable of this. Having spent so many months isolated and alone. Even when you weren't locked up.
Hating yourself for not being stronger, you break into silent tears. Biting your thumb to stifle any sobs.
While reason is battling in your head, telling you that it's a bad idea to form any kind of emotional attachment to him, you don't want to listen to logic right now. Letting yourself cling to Yoongi and the desperately needed human connection.
Vampire! Hoseok
There was a delicate balance to your relationship with Hoseok. You couldn't exactly rely on his moods to be stable, but you could rely on his obsession with you. It was the only thing that kept you feeling secure. Feeling certain that when he bit you next he wouldn't let you bleed out. Or that when he hit you or cut you or hurt you, that he wasn't going to leave you to suffer in agony but would heal you. Because he wanted to keep you. You were his.
It was a twisted kind of reassurance. But it's what you had, so it's what you worked with.
You knew the source of his obsession. It was you as a person, sure. But you weren't kidding yourself. Mostly, his infatuation was with your blood. Hoseok wasn't specific about it, but you had overheard some of the other Vampires discussing you. Apparently, you smell delicious, and that's why he never lets you wander the house with any cuts. That's why you were locked away every 28 days. And that's why you were his only.
It didn't make sense to you, there was nothing different about you.
But somehow you'd fallen in and become the star of your very own YA horror story.
Whatever the cause though, you were aware that Hoseok's addiction to your blood was the reason that he kept you. Without that, he might simply kill you, or worse, he might throw you to one of the other bloodsuckers who look at you like a happy meal they want to fuck.
Which is probably why you were so defensive when you saw him biting another girl.
Sitting on the back terrace looking over the gated property, Hoseok and a few of his creations were sitting in the moonlight enjoying a drink. You'd come downstairs expecting to be his refill when you see him sinking his fangs into the arm of one of the human pets.
Frustration floods through your body, a new kind of anger making your hands shake. A malicious and honestly, not-all-together thought out idea springs into your head. You've never seen him drink from anyone else before, and you need to remind him that he should only want you.
Taking a serrated peeler from the bar at the side of the terrace, you hold it concealed in your palm, going up to the first Vampire leaning there.
"Are you thirsty?" you ask, speaking lowly. He, like all the others, know you're Hoseok's, and so he rightfully looks uncomfortable being near you. Stepping into his personal space, you raise your arm under his chin and run the sharp blade across the top of your forearm. His eyes immediately going black, his fangs bared. Unable to resist what you're offering.
Behind you, every single one of them turns their heads, smelling you the second blood gathers on your skin.
In a flash, Hoseok is between the two of you. Ripping his teeth into the guy's neck, tearing his throat out. Killing him in an instant.
Breathing heavily, he turns to you with blood washed down his front. His eyes murderous and cold.
Retaliating, you storm towards the human-pet and shove her with all of your might, pushing her down the stone tile steps onto the grass. Watching her tumble into a heap.
Those around you have gone dead quiet, none of them even daring to look directly at either of you.
"How dare you?" He seethes, stalking towards you. But you're not backing down. You know better than to retreat from him when he charges.
"How dare I?" you scream. "How dare you drink from that skank!" An enraged Hoseok is something all of his offspring know to fear. Steadily you can see them clearing the space around the two of you. Withdrawing from whatever this is leading to.
"You want to tell me who I can eat?!" He growls, his hand shooting around your neck, holding you but not choking you. "You're a blood bag that I keep as a toy!"
"If that's all, then I'll let all of them feed on me too."
His hand constricts, restricting your air. "I'll kill anyone that tries."
"Then," you gasp, your words coming out short. "only me." you pull your hair off your shoulder, turning your neck as far to the side as you can. Throwing his head back, he takes the invitation, sinking his fangs into your jugular, swallowing down mouthfuls of your blood.
Holding onto his shoulders, you jump up wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing yourself closer to his mouth. Hoseok's arms wrapping around your ass, keeping you up.
Pushed back by your momentum, he stumbles a few steps, dropping down onto the open sofa chair. You landing on his lap, straddling his thighs.
As more of your blood is drained, and you get lightheaded, the pain starts to slip and your body starts to float. A euphoric sensation, akin to being high consuming you.
You tangle your hands up into his hair tugging it, massaging his scalp. You've become so accustomed to him fucking you when he feeds from you, that whenever he bites you, you get turned on. Your body reacting out of instinct. Slowly grinding down, rocking your hips into him as you start to get him hard. The friction feeling good making you moan. Making you move faster with pleasure tingling through your core also.
"Hobi," you moan. Shivering, as his tongue runs up your wounds.
Your gentle whine catches his attention. A surprised expression on his face that shifts into a smile as he leans back to watch you. His focus on you making you feel slightly embarrassed, slowing your motions until they stop altogether.
Biting his tongue, your eyes meet for a moment before he kisses his blood into your mouth, the copper taste feeling soothing and familiar. Your body relaxing completely knowing you'll wake up healed.
"Mine." He whispers into your lips.
The blood loss pulls you into unconsciousness, your head dropping onto his shoulder. The euphoric feeling swallowing you up as you purr back. "Mine."
#bts#yandere bts#yandere#bts fanfic#bangtan#yandere bangtan#bts smut#bts reactions#yandere yoongi#min yoongi#bts smut reactions#bts fan fiction#bts fanfction#bts requests#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#jung hoseok#yandere namjoon#yandere jhope#yandere jin#vampire bts#alpha!namjoon#king!seokjin#assassin!yoongi#vampire!hoseok
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Prompt: Chris Evans story where your boyfriend is a cheating douche-bag. He cheats on you time and time again and you get into a bit of a depression. You confide in your best friend, Chris Evans. His consoling leads to sex, the sex soon turns into a regular thing and you get happy again. Your boyfriend sees your change and promises that he will never cheat again and that he will treat you better. You’re happy but sad at the same time because now you have to break things off with Chris. But Chris won’t have it; he says that you should stay with him and not your boyfriend. You’re not sure of which decision to make, so Chris lists off reasons why you would be better off with him.
Chris Evans x black!reader
A/N: my first Chris Evans story!! Let me know what you guys think of it.
A/N 2: I started this story a few years ago and it took me a long time to finish cause I was on a very long writing hiatus and didn't finish this until earlier this year, so some of the story goes off of what the summary says and I decided to turn this into 2 parts (could be more, depending on how long the 2nd part is). So no smut in this part, just angst and dumb jokes. This also originally wasn't going to be a black reader story, but seeing how my ACTUAL 1st Chris Evans story went pretty well (the Game On story) I decided to make it another one cause I love it.
C/W: angst, swearing, my dumb jokes, 3rd person story (it hurt my brain to write it this way, but I wanted to try something different)
“He did it again, Chris! Michael cheated on me with some big titted chick,” Y/N said as she sobbed into her best friend’s shoulder.
Chris rubbed his friend’s back, trying to calm her down. He knew how to handle situations like these since Y/N went through so many of them with her boyfriend. Chris thought her relationship with Michael was like a broken record: always repeating itself. It was good at first with the couple being so obviously in love, but that changed six months later when Michael decided that Y/N wasn’t enough and started to cheat on her with multiple women. Y/N had been given advice by Chris countless times about guys like Michael and she listened to him, she really did. But she always ended up forgiving her unfaithful boyfriend and enjoyed the makeup sex that Michael would give her after.
“He and that big titted chick can both go to hell for all I care,” Chris replied. Then he lifted his friend’s head from his shoulder and made her look directly in his eyes. “Hey hon,” he said using his ‘friendly’ nickname for Y/N. “I think it’s about time you dropped that lame ass zero and got yourself a hero.”
“Okay, Captain America,” Y/N chuckled while wiping her face.
Chris laughed too, but deep down he was really hoping that Y/N would actually consider dating him. They met seven years ago and became fast friends. But the bearded actor didn’t count on falling for Y/N a few years later when he was doing an interview for one of his new movies and Y/N was there to help support him and make sure his anxiety didn’t get the best of him. While in the middle of the interview, Chris started to feel a little fidgety, so he tugged on his ear; a sign that told Y/N that he needed her help. She was standing right behind the cameraman, so Y/N could see everything that Chris was doing. She saw the signal and started to make some weird faces for her best friend.
Y/N made Chris and the interviewer crack up that day, especially when she stood right behind the cameraman and started to bulge her eyes out at him, making him laugh as well. At that moment, Chris realized that he had found that special someone. That special someone that he wants to spend the rest of his life with and just keep forever, never let go.
Y/N was sweet, considerate and loved Disney movies and dogs as much as he did. So he felt that she was just perfect for him. He even started to mentally kick his ass for taking so long to realize this.
The interviewer asked Chris one last question before he had to leave.
“So, Chris, is there a special lady in your life? Ya know, besides your mother and sisters,” she asked.
Chris chuckled and looked right in Y/N’s direction with a bright smile on his face. “Well, I don’t have anyone yet,” the blonde answered, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s, “but I’m looking for her.”
“Chris? Chris, did you hear me,” Y/N asked suddenly, stopping Chris from remembering the day he fell for her.
Evans shook his head no. “Sorry, I zoned out for a few seconds.”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “I said I would love to find a new boyfriend, but I’m still in love with Michael.” Chris rolled his eyes this time. “Don’t do that, man. I can’t help that these are my feelings for him.”
“But what are your feelings for him right now! Aren’t you sad? Pissed? Or feeling like you just wanna punch that douche-bag in the face so hard that his face caves in a little bit?”
Chris’s friend nodded her head yes and started to sob again. He felt bad for making Y/N cry; he would never want to make her tears fall from her eyes unless they were tears of joy. He grabbed Y/N and embraced her for a few minutes until she was calm again. Once was she was, Chris pulled away from Y/N enough to look her in her eyes.
“Hey, promise me that you’ll forget about that douche for at least two weeks and just try to find someone better. Okay?” Chris begged with sincerity in his eyes.
“Okay,” I promise,” Y/N complied.
Chris kissed Y/N’s head and, after saying goodbye, left his friend’s house for the night.
* * *
Chris returned to Y/N’s house a few weeks later. He rung the doorbell and heard a faint ‘it’s open’. Evans opened and closed the door behind him and blushed at the sight in front of him: there stood Y/N, wearing only a pair of boy shorts and an over sized t-shirt, no makeup. That’s when Chris thought, no knew, that Y/N was the most beautiful woman out there.
"Hi Chris," Y/N greeted her best friend with a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek. Evans couldn't help the blush that crept onto his face. He also couldn't help but to imagine if he and Y/N were together and he'd come home from being on set all day long, her greeting him the same way she was now except that she'd try to pull back a little to ask him about his day. But Chris would hold his lover in a tight embrace, kiss her so lovingly, so passionately, and ask about her day instead.
Yeah, Christopher Robert [Jamal] Evans would love that.
"Hey, Y/N," Chris replied as he breathed in the embrace. "How've you been lately?"
"A little bit better; not fully okay, but I'm getting there I think," Y/N answered.
Chris shook his head in disbelief. He knew when his best friend was lying to him. "Y/N," he whispered, "I can see in your eyes that you're hurting more than letting on. You sure you're doing fine?"
Y/N's smile was quickly replaced with a small frown. "I'm doin' fine, Evans," she answered, mocking Chris's Boston accent. "And, before you ask, yes I have went on a few dates with other guys; three to be exact. First guy wouldn't shut up about his ex-wife; like I was supposed to be his therapist or something. Second guy -this gorgeous dreadhead- we connected and shit, but he too wouldn't stop talking about his ex and his table manners were terrible." You rolled your eyes before finishing your list. "Last but not least, I went on date with Mr. I-Got-Tons-of-Money-Baby. We didn't connect at all and I'm sure it was cause of his cocky attitude and the way he talked down to people -it was disgusting! " The dateless woman flounced into her big living room and plopped down onto her L-shaped sofa. "Trying to find a new man is pointless, Chris. Either I start dating women cause why the fuck not!? Or I just give up on love all together."
Chris chuckled but then nervously cleared his throat after he came up with a great -but what he also thought was a heart attack inducing- idea. "Y/N," he stammered.
"Yeah, man?"
"If the whole thing with you dating females doesn't work out, but you still want to try to find love, then I know exactly who you should date next."
Y/N gave Chris a questionable look. He didn't say anything back, just raised an eyebrow and grinned mischievously. It took Y/N a few seconds to understand what Chris was talking about. But once she did, her mouth went into an O shape, showing her shock and surprise.
"Are you serious, Evans," Y/N exclaimed; eyes now wide as golf balls. "You wanna date me!?!"
The actor chuckled. He didn't think that his friend would be so shocked by his words. "I've been wanting to date you basically almost ever since we first met, Y/N. I just- -I just never knew what to say to you about it, or if you felt the same way or not and if you didn't then I didn't want to ruin our friendship, or if you did feel the dame way but then something bad happens to us down the road and then that messes with up our friendship and then there's the thing with paparazzi..." Chris was rambling on and on but Y/N was listening to everything he was saying. Hanging onto every word that was coming out of her best friend's mouth.
Y/N had never known that Chris had felt this way about her. It wasn't that she was completely oblivious (well, maybe a little), but she also never saw any signs of her friend being in love with her. Wait. Was Chris in love with Y/N? As far as she knew -or as far as she thought from what she was told so far- this was just a crush. A crush confession that apparently was a long time coming. She wondered how she felt for Chris; did she have the same feelings for him like he did for her? When they first met, all Y/N cared about was how Chris acted as a person, not as Captain America or as an actor in general. But as Chris Evans, an everyday man. Y/N knew, after that one day of meeting Evans, that she wanted to be best friends with the man, nothing more and nothing less. But now, with Chris' confession and continuous ramblings, Y/N was having different and a little bit confusing thoughts.
Sure Chris Evans is an very attractive man, physically speaking. But Y/N doesn't care about looks -much- when it comes to dating or anything for that matter. She thinks what makes people attractive is their personality more than anything, and she knows Chris has the best personality she's ever seen from a person. But she wasn't sure if she was ready to date him or anyone else for that matter. Although, if Y/N was going to date more, then Chris would probably be her number one pick.
"So, what do you say, Y/N," Chris asked, hopeful.
______________________________________________________________
And that's the end of part 1, everyone. Part 2 will be posted....probably next week or so. It is currently one of my WIPs so I'm definitely working on it.
But what do ya'll think will happen next? What will Y/N's answer to Chris be? Will she say yes, or will she say no? Who knows??? Except for me; I know. Also, you're Y/N; Y/N is you, so you better hope that you say something positive back :P Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this! Thanks for reading!!
#chris evans#chris evans imagine#chris evans smut#angst#black writing#black reader#chris evans x black!reader#friends to lovers#chris evans fanfiction#christopher robert jamal evans
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He’s Lost - Bakugou Katsuki - Part 2
Bakugou x f!reader
Warnings: angst, slightest fluff, cursing, physical harm mentions, lowkey little yandere obsessive hints, smut, 18+, daddy kink, sad boi Bakugou :(
BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST
Summary: Bakugou’s been going through hell ever since the breakup. He’s been so lost without you. But he’s willing to do whatever it takes to win back his Teddy bear. Everything and anything for the love of his life.
*Everyone is of age for legal consent (which is 16 in Japan, if you are uncomfortable with it please move along, thx<3)*
A/N: Bakugou is a little OOC but the main thing in the beginning starts with fixing up Katsuki a little bit. So sorry if you don’t really enjoy it all that much<3
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Melancholy music bounces off the walls of the dark room. The river of tears that flow down his once perfect porcelain skin is everlasting. As he lays in the soft bed, staring at the ceiling, he thinks about all he could’ve done better for you. In his hand, the same framed picture of you both that he’s held onto every night ever since the horrible incident. Y/N L/N. Like a song that’s stuck on loop. It’s the only thing that runs through his mind.
The door swiftly opens, and much to his disliking, a massive amount of light now enters the former den of manliness pit of depression.
To show his displeasure, Bakugou rolled himself in the blankets, covering his entire body in them and being the picture inside with him as well. With different circumstances, Y/N would’ve thought it was cute or adorable, but it wasn’t Y/N that opened the door.
“Really Bakubro?” The blonde’s best friend spoke.
Eijirou Kirishima. The best friend of our dearest sad boy. He’s been letting his Bakubro crash in his dorm room because Katsuki refuses to clean his own. It looks exactly the same as it did on Valentine’s Day. Just a little different.
Rose petals were dead and dried up on his floors, candles were nearly melted to the bottom as they lay everywhere in the room, the curry was thankfully thrown out by Kirishima claiming that he could smell the spoiled aroma all the way from his room. But the presents, letter, and new gear stayed in the exact same spots. Bakugou didn’t feel worthy enough to be blessed with all the stuff but he was oh so desperate to be worthy. Worthy of your time, your love, and you in general.
Bakugou let out a grumbled whine of displeasure. He could feel the disappointment and concern radiating off his friend. As Katsuki poked just his face out of the covers, he was met with the expression that represented those two things.
“You can’t keep living like this bro,” Kirishima began, “You can’t keep hallowing in sadness in my room. I wanna help you, but you gotta help yourself too. Ever since you and Y/N split-“ Bakugou quickly interrupted.
“We didn’t split, she left me!” The blonde cried.
“...Right, okay. Well ever since Y/N left you, you’re not the same. You stay in here, playing the same damn sad tunes, covering yourself in my blankets, crying all day, and holding onto that picture! You haven’t even been to class or training! Shit man, you don’t even come out of my room to eat food! I gotta bring your plate here just to make sure that you’re properly fed. You’re a mess Bakugou. And not even the hot kind!” His best friend was right. He was a mess. And not even the hot kind.
“Well what the hell am I supposed to do shitty hair?” Bakugou said while dragging the covers over his face once more. Inside the blanket he held onto the picture as if it were actually you.
The fake red head snatched the covers off of his friend’s body and forced him up.
The said friend didn’t take too kindly to that and growled in displeasure.
“What the fuck Kirishima,” Bakugou said, a little to calm and chilling.
“Dont give me that bull Katsuki. You gotta get her back. I would say move on, but it’s clear you can’t.” Kirishima said while rolling his eyes.
Bakugou mirrored the action and said “yea no shit genius. I can’t and won’t move on.”
“So then go get her man!” Kirishima yelled
“And how the fuck am I supposed to do that? Huh?!” Bakugou was so confused. In what way was it going to be possible to win you back?
“Figure it out! Look Bakugou, I’ll be here to help you along the way, but you gotta figure this shit out on your own. This is your relationship here, if you want it as bad as you claim you do then prove it. You want Y/N back? Then fight for her, idiot!” The blonde’s eyes seemed to go wide.
Two words stuck out to Katsuki during his friend’s little speech. Prove it. Fuck yeah he will! He’ll prove to the whole damn universe how much he wants you back. More importantly, he’ll prove it to you and win you back.
The iconic Bakugou smirk reappeared on Katsuki’s face. Kirishima took it as a good sign. “Alright shitty hair, you want me to prove how badly I want Y/N back. FINE!” The two friends pulled the iconic bro hug to seal the deal.
(You know? That shit that guys do where they high five and pull each other in with that one hand for the quickest hug and pat each other on the back? You know what I’m talking about.)
“Welcome back Katsuki.” Kirishima gladly stated. “Now get the fuck out of my room man, I’m sick of sleeping on the common room couches and you reek. Take a shower. And get your own clothes from your own room.”
As Kirishima pushed him out into the hallway and shut the door, it hit Bakugou like a bus. This would be Katsuki’s first challenge. Going back into the room filled with the torn love.
As Katsuki opened the door holding onto the picture, he felt his heart sink. He saw the damage. Melted candles, dried petals, the gifts and letter. Even the nasty smell of the spoiled curry still remained. As Katsuki gathered the courage to walk in and place the picture on the messy nightstand, it’s like the room was holding onto some sad emotions. Heartache and regret filled Katsuki’s chest. He couldn’t believe how fast it happened. He thought he would at least have a minute or two before he felt the pain again. Man, did it hurt like hell.
Katsuki dashed to his closet grabbing the first things he saw. He grabbed his shower container that held all his soaps and cleaning utensils and ran out the room, shutting the door. Once out, he let out a breath of relief.
“...after I clean myself up, the room’s next.” Katsuki said with determination as he walked towards the boy’s community showers and bath house.
When the hot water hit his skin, he felt a sense of calm. It wasn’t the same as the warmth of Kirishima’s blankets. It was better. The water and hot steam completely engulfed him in relaxation. The water washed away not only the dirt and grime, but also some of the tense feelings. For a moment, he felt at ease.
As Katsuki walked out the bathing area now fully clothed and dried, he made his way back to his room. He stood there, staring at the knob until he felt he was ready. Once he opened the door, the emotions hit him once again. Like a wave of sadness washed over his entire body. Finally, he stepped in.
First things first. Open up these windows. Let out that disgusting air filled with spoiled curry and sad emotions. When Katsuki took a breath a fresh air, he felt so alive. Much better than he has in days.
Now, we gotta move stuff. Katsuki picked up his dirty laundry and put it in his closet to wash later. He moved all his presents up off the floor and onto the bed. He swepted all the dead petals and toss them in his trash can. He threw out all the ruined candles and sprayed the room with air fresheners. He fixed up his bed and placed the picture frame back on his now cleaned nightstand. Next to it, a lit candle that smelled of caramel.
Katsuki took a seat at his desk. He was back to thinking about Y/N and all that he could do to win her back. As he checked his clock, he realized just how late it was. Kirishima came back to him at the end of class and training which was around 6. He spent an hour talking to Katsuki, and then Katsuki spent 4 hours cleaning himself and his room. It was 11:00 now. Way past his usual bed time. He’ll figure things out in the morning.
Katsuki smiled to himself as he layed in his own bed. He was finally on the right track again and one step closer to getting his teddy bear back. He turned to the picture frame, and grabbed onto it, hugging it while he slept. Katsuki was getting better but he wasn’t whole again. He needed Y/N to help him sleep alright, so holding the picture at night will have to do. He couldn’t wait till he woke up in the morning. Tomorrow he had school, he’ll get to see Y/N’s beautiful face for the first time in awhile, but before that, you bet your ass he’s waking up extra early to come up with a plan.
——————————————————————————
The next morning
*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *click!*
The blonde smacked his alarm button before he rose up and stretched his body. Today was the day. He’s gets to see Y/N again. Bakugou just sits in place staring at nothing. Just taking 2 minutes to regain full consciousness. Once he’s set, he’s up and getting ready. It’s 4 in the morning now, so he begins to strategize.
Katsuki is pulling out easels and white boards. Pulling out notebooks and writing down facts. What Y/N is interested in, her favorite hobbies and foods, where she likes to spend her time, what she could need help with that Bakugou could assist her with. He’s also writing down the highlights of their relationship and what she seemed to enjoy best about him. He’ll be keeping that as a reference for when he needs to reassess on how he should treat her better. He will do better this time. That’s a promise to himself and you.
After half an hour of slightly struggling, he reaches out for help. Now at 4:30 a.m, here was the blonde knocking at his best friend’s door.
Rock music is blasting, sweat is flying everywhere and punches are being thrown at a hero. Not just any hero, Crimson Riot! As Kirishima continues to spar with his idol, he’s interrupted by a banging sound.
*BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM*
“The hell?” The younger red head says. Soon his idol began to fade away.
“Crimson Riot! Hey are you okay sir?!” But it was too late, the man was gone. Now the whole room was waving around. Did Kirishima accidentally mistake his giant jug of water for vodka or something? Soon he was left in nothing but a black abyss. And then....he fell!
“Shitty hair.....Ei....KIRISHIMA!”
“AH!” The red head screamed as he shot up from the bed, head-butting his best friend right then and there. Great, a perfect dream. Ruined.
“Ah, shit!” Bakugou said in pain as he held his now throbbing forehead. “What the fuck?”
“That’s my line Bakugou,” the red head sighed, “Did you break into my room? Jeez man, what the fuck? What are you doing here at.....4:38 a.m?!?!? DUDE!”
“I know, my bad okay? But..I could use some help.” Bakugou whispered the last part so Kirishima had no idea what this man just said.
“What bro?” Kirishima asked.
“I said....I could use some help.” The blonde repeated.
“C’mon man, you’re gonna have to speak u-“
“I need your help, alright?!” Bakugou finally said. Kirishima sighed. His bro really couldn’t wait until later?
“Bakugou, you know I’m always down to help you out but this is too early man. Can we just-“ the blonde quickly added on to what he was previously saying.
“Please.”
Kirishima’s eyes shot open after he closed them to drift off back to sleep. Did the Katsuki Bakugou just ask for help by saying please? This must be extremely important.
“......alright. You got me, I’m up. But if I’m gonna be up at 4 in the morning, others are gonna be helping us too.” Kirishima bargained.
“But-“ Kirishima cut him off
“But nothing. Besides, I’m drowsy in the morning so I wouldn’t really focus all that well. And we’re just going to the people we can trust.” The red head explained.
“Fine.” The blonde gave in. So there they went, gathering the other members of the Bakusquad (minus Y/N) to help Bakugou win back his girl.
As the 4 sleepy heads sat down on Bakugou’s floor infront of the whiteboard he wrote on, The blonde began to explain some of his plans.
“So I was thinking of treating her real nice all day until she takes me back and we become friends again, eventually leading to our relationship, but then I realized she’d be into a fake me and we all know I can’t pull the nice guy act forever. Then I thought I’d spoil her with all of the things she desires, but money can’t buy you love. So I thought I could-“ Katsuki quickly noticed the long period of silence other than his voice.
There, were his 4 friends sleeping in a dog pile in the middle of his dorm room floor, completely ignoring everything he’s been saying.
Bakugou sighed and grabbed a small “heroes weekly” issue sitting on his desk, rolled it up, and wacked his friends in their heads.
“You idiots...WAKE THE FUCK UP!” Ahh, welcome back Gremlin Bakugou.
As his friends came back from the dead, they all complained.
“Aww c’mon Bakugou. We’ve been at this for an hour already, it’s 5:40.” Sero said while yawning.
“I don’t care. You idiots offered to help so here you are.” Bakugou said while turning to face the board again.
“We didn’t offer shit!” The bakusquad simultaneously replied.
Mina let out a groan while rubbing her eyes open, “Look Bakugou. We really want you and Y/N to be happy together, we really do, but maybe it’s for the best if you guys don-“ Mina was cut off by Denki slapping his hand over her mouth.
As she looked at her electric friend, she saw a nervous expression on his face. She followed his gaze and saw the back of an angry and almost insane looking and shaking Bakugou.
Hearing Mina say that he should let Y/N go triggered something in his brain. But hearing her say they wanted the couple back together enlightened him too. His mind got the two mixed up.
‘Everyone wants us back together. Not just me. So...then we are back together. Yeah. Y/N is still mine’ the now insane blonde thought to himself.
“....Ok well, time to go, get some sleep, see you idiots in the morning!” Bakugou said while pushing the group out of his room. Once they made it over the threshold, he slammed the door.
With an insane plan in mind, Bakugou checked the time and saw he could take at least a good hour long nap before he had to get ready to leave for school. And that’s exactly what he did. So he jumped into the covers, grabbing onto the picture and drifted off into sleep.
——————————————————————————
*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *click!*
Bakugou’s alarm rang once more, and again, he slammed it shut. He stretched, got up outta bed and changed into his uniform. That power nap really well rested him, but it also must’ve fucked up his brain even more.
‘And now it’s time to go see my beautiful girlfriend,’ he thought to himself.
After Mina’s comments last night, it hit Bakugou with a great realization. Everyone wanted him and Y/N back together. Not just him. So why not give everybody what they want? Sure maybe Y/N might not completely want it but she’ll learn how to love Bakugou again. Everyone’s happy. And so, Bakugou was convinced that him and Y/N were back together.
At breakfast, Bakugou ran down to already see the Squad up and eating.
“Why the hell do you losers look like death?” He asked while grabbing a cup for his orange juice.
“Well we were all trying to sleep, but after what happened this morning, we couldn’t.” Mina explained.
“What happened this morning? There was nothing big except you guys helping me out.” Kirishima really couldn’t believe it. Had his dear friend not even notice his weird ass trigger moment earlier?
“Alright whatever. Anyway, wheres Y/N?” Bakugou asked after he finished his cup.
“Oh, she just left. She had an early breakfast and went for a quick walk.” Mina said.
“You planning on talking to her today Kacchan?” Denki questioned him.
“You damn Spark Plug, of course I’m gonna talk to my girlfriend today. Fucking idiot.” He said as he grabbed his bag and walked out the kitchen.
“.........Huh?” The entire squad was left in confusion.
‘Had they gotten back together this morning? Did she really accept him back that fast? What the fuck is going on?’ They all thought.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!?” Kaminari cried out as he pulled at and scruffled his hair in confusion.
Ah Denki. Always saying what everyone is thinking but the only one ballsy enough to idiotically say it aloud.
——————————————————————————
As she walked to class, Y/N hummed a little song to herself. She enjoyed her walk as it helped clear her mind from all the recent events. Her breakup with Bakugou really took a toll on her. They were together for almost 2 years (EVER SINCE JUNIOR HIGH) so of course the split hit her hard. He accused her of cheating and burned her. So much for trust, right? Not only that, but the burn left a tiny scar. Usually, due to you having a regeneration ability as part of your quirk, Phoenix, the scar should’ve healed up. Maybe the emotional damage caused it to permanently mark itself in you. Oh well, whats done is done. And now it’s time for class.
When you walked though the door, you were expecting a normal day. Ever since the split, you usually got their a lot earlier before anyone else so you could sit, do a little reading, sketch out a little drawing, or just rest your eyes until the bell rang. Except this time, when you opened the door, someone jumped on you for a hug.
“Babe! There you are you little dumbass. Jeez, I was looking for you everywhere.” Bakugou said as he let go of the hug. “I’ve missed you, haven’t seen you in a few days.”
“Uhm, you said babe??” You spoke with a confused and shocked voice.
“Yeah, I called you babe? So what? We always call each other that. You are my girlfriend after all.” He said so casually as he walked to his seat.
THISMANSAIDWHAATTT
“Uh, Bakugou-“
“Katsuki.” He deadpanned.
“Bakugou, we broke up.” You stated while walking up to him.
“Mm...no we didn’t.” He once again so casually said.
“Wha- I- we- you-....HUH?!” You stuttered out.
“Y/N-“
“L/N!” You corrected.
“Y/N. We didn’t break up you dummy, we only had a little set back and that’s fine. All couples do. But thankfully you forgave me and we’ve moved past it,” he began as he pulled you into his lap, “besides, everyone wants us back together including us so why not make it easier for everyone.”
You began stuttering out none sense right there on his lap. You were in such shock and utter disbelief that he said all that bullshit. Well maybe he was right about one thing. Everyone did want you guys back together, including you both, but that’s besides the point! Y’all broke up! He needs to accept it.
“Baku- no- I- we-“ and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.
And for some reason, you didn’t push him away. Granted you didn’t accept it either, but you slowly melted into it. The kiss was passionate and slow. It wasn’t sloppy, it was very controlled, but it was just a lotta lip and tongue. The whole thing sent butterflies to your heart and stomach. Oh how you missed moments like these with Katsuki.
He readjusted you on his lap so that you were now straddling him. His hands travelled down to your ass as he gave it a nice squeeze, one that made you moan into the kiss. Your arms went straight to his neck to pull him in for more and he took it as an invitation to start. The kiss began to get a little rougher. More tongue and teeth, both of you extremely desperate for the touch from one another. With your cunt pressed onto his crotch, he slowly thrusted up into you as you grinded down slowly on him. You both started breathing heavier and letting out little whimpers of ecstasy. He could probably feel your now soaked panties. One hand left your ass and came around to the front. He pressed on your soaked pussy through your damp underwear and it caused shutters to go through your entire body.
You began pressing down into his hand, desperate for more friction and Bakugou noticed. He moved your panties to the side and slipped in one finger. This was rewarded with a louder moan that caused Katsuki to smile into the kiss. He knew you and your body so well. He was determined to treat you right and get you to fall for him one more time. As his finger felt around your velvet walls, he slipped in another one, receiving an even louder cry of pleasure. You broke off from the kiss to throw your head back. Katsuki saw this as an opportunity to attack your neck. To mark you up and let everyone know you still belonged to him.
“K-Katsuki. Don’t...don’t stop,” you panted.
“I won’t princess, I’ll take care of you.” He smiled.
Without warning, he shoved in 2 more fingers. You were so loud and Bakugou was so proud. You were gonna let everyone know what’s happening and he was excited.
He lifted his head to whisper into your ear as you continued to moan and sigh.
“Well aren’t you just a little slut. You want everyone to know how well daddy takes care of you? You want them to hear you scream in pleasure?” His words went straight to your cunt that was now welcoming in his 5th and final finger. Completely fisting you now, you let out loud cries.
“S-uki, .....ah, AH YES! Mm, s’too much!” You cried out. You couldn’t help it, you loved him. You knew you did. Even though what he did was wrong, your body took over and your mind turned off. You fully succumbed to his wishes.
You let your feet hit the ground to stand yourself up a little bit and fall down onto his fist, meeting the thrust of his hand moving in and out of you. Watching the show, Katsuki couldn’t help but stare in delight. His hard on growing bigger and bigger each second as he bit his lip to hold back his sounds. Watching you bounce on just his fist did something to him and brought out a feral beast. He snapped.
He pulled his fist out of your aching pussy and sat you down on his desk. He stood up infront of you and tore your delicate panties off.
“Katsuki-“ you were silenced with a smack to your ass
“That’s not my name, teddy bear. C’mon now, you know exactly what I wanna hear.” He said while caressing your thighs.
“..Yes daddy.” You bashfully said.
With a kiss to your cheek he praised you.
“Good girl.” As he began to unbuckle his belt, you looked around the classroom.
“D-daddy. Someone’s gonna see!” You cautiously stated.
Katsuki reassured you with a kiss to your lips, “We’ll be fine princess, I promise,” he said while placing his tip at your entrance. You whimpered at the thought of him inside you again, it’s been so long. You were almost nervous. That is until Katsuki place a finger under your chin so you could face him in his eyes.
“I’m gonna take care of you, so don’t worry.” And with that you slowly nodded. And he finally began to press into you.
With just his tip in, you let out a breathy moan. He was bigger than you remembered. He kept pressing and pressing until he was fully inside your warm and tight hole. You both let out a moan at the feeling of each other.
“Daddy, please move.” And he did as he was told. With a steady pace set, he thrusted himself in and out of you. Both of you moaning louder every second. While you were enveloped in the euphoric feeling, Katsuki was struggling to hold back the beast inside of him. That is until you came up to his ear.
“Fuck me like you mean it, daddy. I won’t break, I promise.” You said in his ear and Katsuki swore he could hear your smirk. Gripping your ass and continuing his pace he spoke.
“Don’t be mad when you can’t walk for the next week,” he smirked. With that, he slammed himself deeper, harder, and faster inside of you. His tip hitting your cervix. You let our screams of pure pleasure and he did the same.
“Oh yesss...shit daddy..so big..”
“F-fuck! Oh you like that? Yeah princess? ...oh shit baby your pussy takes me so well. Y-Yeah, your tight little cunt takes this big cock so fucking well,” he moved faster inside, exploring you completely. His hands went straight to your shirt and and ripped it open. You had a few buttons fly everywhere, but you didn’t care. He pushed your bra up and let one of your mounds fall into his hand. He squeezed it tight to release a generous moan from you. He then dove into the valley of breast to mark your chest. You held onto the back of his head and tugged at his hair and he growled at he feeling, enjoying every second of it.
“Oh yess princess just like that. S-shit. Oh fuck yes...oh you’re mine,” he went deeper inside as he spoke.
“Fuck! Daddy yes! Right t-there! Oh my god..yess,” you cried out.
“Can you feel that. Oh fuck, can you feel my dick in your gut?” He moaned out. Katsuki went to grip the edge of his desk as you kept your hold around his neck, causing him to somehow move faster. He went up to taste your lips once more
“I love you....so much princess...you hear me...Mm, your mine,” he said between kisses and ended with a smack to your now red ass.
His words had you squeezing his cock. He knew what was coming.
“Aww, is princess gonna cum? You gonna cum on daddy’s dick?” He teased.
“Mm...p-please daddy. Please let me cum,” you said while throwing your head back. Katsuki only smirked at this.
“Not yet~” he pulled out of you, leaving you a whiny mess.
“N-no! Daddy please! Please let me finish,” you said while holding onto his shoulders, inches away from his face, pressing your chest to his. Your words caused his “little” friend to grow even harder and Katsuki only smirked and looked down at you.
“Dont worry teddy bear, Daddy’s not done with you yet.” He yanked you off the desk and pressed you down onto it, with your chest to the desk. Then he slammed back into you, returning to the fast pace again.
“Fuck yeah..oh god look at this ass. Nice and round, all red for me,” he said while pounding into you.
He gave your ass a good few smacks, countered with a thrust each harder than the last before going to lay his chest on top of you to whisper in your ear.
“You wanna be a good girl for daddy? Huh, teddy bear?” He asked.
“Mmm, yes! Yes I’ll be good, just please!” You cried out. He reached his hand over to rub on your clit. Your body began to shake with pleasure.
“Then cum with me.....NOW,” he said, and that was all it took for you to release the white liquid. As you came you could feel his hot release filling you up to the brim. He cried out in pure pleasure while you did the same.
You both stayed in that position for a bit, and you could feel the mixture of both your release dripping down your inner thighs. Soon, you felt Katsuki lower himself to kiss your neck.
“You did so good princess.” He calmly said to you. It was relieving, and you loved the sound of his voice, but you couldn’t help but feel a little off at this whole ordeal.
Katsuki pulled out of you and watched how his cum covered and filled your entire pussy. He smiled at the sight and went to grabbed some tissue on Aizawa’s desk to clean you and himself up.
He tucked himself back into his pants and you rebuttoned your shirt the best you could and flipped your skirt back down. Since Katsuki tore your panties you’d have to go commando at least until you got back to your room. You watched as Katsuki went to throw away the tissues and your torn underwear into the trash can. When he made his way back to you, he held you in his arms and attempted to kiss you. But you turned away.
“Hey teddy be-“
“No, Katsuki. Please don’t call me that.” You said while looking down. Katsuki felt his heart hurt a little. You’re always gonna be his teddy bear, why would he ever stop calling you that?
“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked you.
“Us. This. Katsuki, what happened today should not have happened.” You said
“What?” He was so confused and a little hurt.
As tears start to fill your eyes, you did everything you could to not let them fall. “Suki, we broke up. You accused me of cheating, you burned me! So for us to come in here and just have sex like nothing happened is wrong.”
“Y/N, I’m sorry for what happened. Seriously, after what I did it destroyed me. But please listen, I lov-“ you cut him off again.
“I know!.....I know you do Katsuki.....and I love you too Suki. So much,” this brought a smile to his face. A true, genuine smile that you loved so dearly.
“But I’m scared.” You added on. This made Katsuki’s smile drop, worry and concern fill his eyes.
“Of what exactly?” He asked you while gently holding onto your hand.
“.....You.” This shocked him. His own teddy bear feared him. Heartbreaking.
“I’m scared of the lack of trust that you have for me. And not only that, but your quirk too. Katsuki I know you’re one of the best students here at UA, but I know you’re emotions can get out of hand too. It’s clear that when you’re not in control of your feelings, your quirk can lash out. The evidence is right here,” you turned you arm that he was holding to show him the scar he left on you.
Now this really hurt Katsuki. He loved marking you with his love, not with his anger. The fact that he did that to you sent his mind into a frenzy. Until he felt your touch on his cheek.
Holding onto his cheek with your soft hands, you spoke reassuring words. “Katsuki, you were right about two things. I do want us to be together again and I do forgive you,” and with that, Katsuki leaned into your touch. Holding onto your hand that held his face, he released a single tear he didn’t know he was holding and closed his eyes in relief and satisfaction.
“But I can’t be with you again.” Your words caused him to open his eyes and stare at you in shock and fear. “At least...not yet.”
Whew, his heart rate went back down. Oh the rollar coaster of emotions this poor boy was currently on.
“Yet?” He asked hopefully.
“Suki, I’m still trying to fix myself, and it’s clear that you need to fix yourself too. I really want to be with you, but we both need time to grow for each other. I can’t leave you. I know for sure that in my heart, you’re always gonna be the one I run back to, but I don’t want to run back to someone who could possibly hurt me again. I want to come back to you knowing that when we are together again, our relationship is secured.” You explained.
A silence filled the air. You both stared at each other for what felt like forever. Nobody else in the world. Just you and him. He then pulled you in for a tight hug. As he held onto you, you could feel hot tears hitting your shoulder, and quiet sobs left his voice along with a hitched breath every now and then. Katsuki was crying.
“....I promise you. I’m gonna get better for you. I’m gonna be worthy of you and your love and it’ll stay that way for the rest of our lives. You and me. Together. Im gonna do whatever it takes to get you back and I won’t stop at anything until you’re mine again. I swear I’ll treat you better than I ever did before. As long as I know that you’re coming back to me and me only, I’ll wait for you for as long as it takes teddy bear.” He said into your neck with his arms tightly wrapped around your waist.
“I know you will Suki. And I promise I won’t make you wait too long.” You said while hugging him back.
“You better not.” The blonde said.
“Don’t forget though, I’m always yours. And just yours.” You reassured him.
“......Can we at least make this a little easier for me and say we didn’t split. We’re just on a break. A small break?” He said, now looking directly in your eyes while still holding onto you.
You put his worries at ease with your gentle smile. “The smallest break, Suki.” You softly laughed as you both went back in for another hug.
“........I like it better when you call me daddy,” the damn devil said while smiling.
“Shut up you horny idiot.” You chuckled.
‘I can’t wait to be yours again,’ you both thought
You both stayed there in each other’s embraces until the world faded away. It was just you and him. Together. You were both no longer lost. You weren’t at your destination yet, but you were on the right tracks. One step closer to each other. One step closer to love.
A/N: There’s still a little more I wanna add to the story, so there will be a part 3 to close this little short story. Sorry if there were any spelling mistakes. Thank you guys so much for the love and support. As a new writer I never expected to grow so quickly so I truly love each and every one of you bear cubs! Sorry this was so long, I hope you enjoyed! 💗🧸
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World's Best
Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader
Summary: Not every day is easy. Frankie makes it better.
Rating: Explicit
Word count: 2.2k~
Warnings/tags: smut, vague-ish descriptions of depression/mental health, hurt/comfort, fluff
Notes: Do y'all ever get into a funk and then attempt to write yourself out of one? Well, this is the v self-indulgent product of said instance heh. I have tagged a random assortment of potentionally interested people but obvi no pressure? idk? :) Sending so much love and well wishes to you guys. x
Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!
A sea of knotted sheets spans between you—as tangled as your legs—too tired, too leaden to unweave. The fan rotates in the corner, blowing stale air your way every few clicks. You dangle a foot off the bed, skin prickling as the weak breeze sweeps over you and a bead of sweat licks from your knee to slope down your calf. Morning sun leaks through the window— the finch perched on the tree just outside it chirping once, twice, before flitting off.
You’ve been reading the Sunday paper for a solid twenty minutes—which, in all honesty, is an overstatement; you started and quickly abandoned the Sudoku after a measly ten, and you’ve been staring at the same sentence in the local section for the other half, blinklessly hovering over the fine print.
You’re not here today. Not all of you.
There’s this sinking feeling, hollowing you out and unmaking you. It’s as if something unseeable is oozing over you - dripping - something treacle, something thick. You’re far away from yourself—far from the cornflower blue walls and the framed photos hanging on them—the happy faces in the pictures smiling back at you— far from the plants basking in the tines of filtered light by the sill, far from the body lying beside you.
You’re not always this way. Not every day drags like an inky smear, your mind meandering sluggishly in circles, holding you hostage in a prison of your own making; but you can’t say it’s foreign to you either. It’s old, familiar—like that sweater in your closet you’ve had for centuries and rarely wear, but can’t bring yourself to get rid of. You know it well, this slog—you have unwillingly memorized it’s sodden intricacies, and today you feel it. You feel every single one of your days—each grey hour— weighing heavy on your very bones.
heavy heavy
heavier, still.
If you’re not careful, you’ll sink straight through the mattress. You’ll nestle deep into the springs and make a home in the down. You’ll sleep there until you become it. Comfortable. Catatonic.
Frankie sips his coffee. He doesn’t look up from the email he’s skimming. “What’s wrong?”
The baritone of your boyfriend’s voice sucks you back to the present—to the tick of the clock marking the seconds, the whir of the fan. The paper crinkles as you lay it to your chest—big eyes feigning ignorance as you blink up at him, chewing your lip. “Hmm?”
“Baby, I know that face.”
“What face?”
“The one you’ve got on,” he replies, “that’s your ‘I’m-upset-and-I’m-trying-to-hide-it’ face.’”
“I-” you frown, “no it’s not.” Gingerly, you pat a hand around your temple, your cheek, as if you could see your expression through touch.
“Uh huh.” Frankie rolls his digit upon the mousepad, clicking and scrolling down the webpage, and your vision glazes over again—ugly thoughts fogging up the panels of your mind—
“You gonna talk to me about it?”
You blink, swallowing, “nothing to talk about.” You flap the paper, ironing out the pleats, and scan for that pesky paragraph you never managed to finish.
“Mhm,” he replies absentmindedly, bringing the mug to his lips and drinking with an all too obvious slurp.
“Really, I’m fine,” you say weakly. You’re not that convincing—you barely convince yourself.
“Sure, sweetheart. If you say so.”
He’s too casual; he’s letting it all go too easily and God, he’s gotten good at this—at coaxing the truth out of you. He doesn’t even have to try any more. He’s so kind and open and sincere, all he has to do is crack the door ajar—tempt you with an inch of space, with only a sliver of leeway—and immediately you want to plunge through it and chase after him, like a dog and a bone.
He makes you want to share; not because of what he says, but by everything he doesn’t—the welcoming gaps he leaves you with, the gaps you’re urged to fill. This happens every time—it’s pretty damn annoying, actually. You’re so miserably predictable. After three and a half years together, sometimes you think Frankie might know you better than you know yourself.
A scary thought—wonderful, too.
“I’m just-” You run a hand over your face, pressing into the bridge of your nose and you grunt, frustrated. Exhausted. “I’m just tired.”
Frankie settles his coffee cup on the hill of his sternum, closing his laptop quietly. He swivels his head to you, hair mussing into the wall.
“Of anything in particular?” he asks, linen soft.
“No, yes—I don’t know,” you heave—an errant thing fluttering around in your chest as you fold the newspaper, letting it float to the floor with a splat. “It’s just-” you worry the inside of your cheek raw, fumbling with the blur of your emotions. You shake your head. “It’s just a bad brain day.” Your voice is small as you slump into him, letting your body go limp.
“I’m sorry I get like this. I’m okay—I’ll be okay,” you mumble, face burrowed into his arm. He smells summered, like sweat and heat and the promise of long days fading into even longer nights, and you take a heady drag, inhaling his scent.
You hear him sigh, stretching as he sets the mug and computer down on the side table. He shifts back to you, snaking an arm under your body as you coil your own around his center, hugging him close.
“You know, it’s alright if you’re not,” Frankie murmurs into your hair, planting a kiss at the crown of your head. “And you know you don’t have to hide from me when you aren’t.” His thumb finds your arm, the chewed nail bed scratching soothing circles along your skin.
Your gut somersaults, flipping and purring, and all you can do is press your lips to the cottoned shoulder of his tee shirt—the one with the holes in the collar and motor oil stain on the hem; all you can do is tighten your grasp, wringing around his cozy waist.
“And you know that nothing you say is gonna scare me away, right? I’m always going to be here for you.” Frankie gives your forearm a reassuring squeeze.
God, this man.
You nuzzle further into his chest—snuggled and swaddled in the safety of his warmth—and you mumble something incoherent, muffled against his relaxed body. His beard catches on your fly-aways as he dips to hear you better. “What was that honey?”
“I said,” you crane your neck, lifting out of his side, “you really are the ‘world’s best uncle’.”
A ripple of confusion twists over his features before you bat your eyes up to meet his, shooting a glance over to that exact phrase wrapping itself around the ceramic cup beside him.
You got stuck with it at some terrible white elephant exchange last Christmas. It’s fucking tacky and aggressively large—not even you - you, in all your caffeine dependency - can chug that much coffee fast enough in one sitting without it going cold— and neither of you have any nieces or nephews to speak of…
Naturally, it’s become your favorite mug.
Frankie barks out a laugh, his stomach flexing against your grasp. “Oh yeah? Is that all I am?” he smirks, a glint of mischievousness reflecting in his irises as he bores down at you.
You quirk an eyebrow, a coy tug blooming across your lips. “I dunno,” you drawl sweetly, “you going to prove me otherwise?”
His face is split into a grin now, wide and aching and unnecessarily endearing. His hair is a mess, wavy tufts jutting out every which way, and his eyelids are still puffy from what little slumber he was lucky enough to get in your hot, cramped apartment.
You really can’t keep putting it off—you need to buy an AC unit.
His focus dances from your eyes to your mouth, breath hitching as he watches you skip your tongue over the plush mound there. “I just might,” he growls playfully, maneuvering you onto your back with one broad swoop, pinning you to the bed.
/
He makes love to you like a man unburdened - untouched - by time. He fucks into you slowly, unhurriedly—at a pace that’s mind numbingly measured and patient. Frankie devastates you, dragging himself through your walls from head to hilt, letting you feel every ridge, every vein of him; filling you up so impossibly well—his thick cock sauntering in and out, and in and out again. Each roll of his hips makes you gasp, his blunt tip brushing against that deep, uncharted chasm within you that tempts you into oblivion. Your legs are locked around him, crossed at the ankles, and the perspiration at the pits of your knees slicks his sides.
Frankie’s palms dimple the fitted sheet as he brackets your head, burying himself into the crook of your neck. He moans—hot breath ghosting over the prickled skin there, babbling disjointed strings of guttural praise into your ear.
Fuck baby—fuck you feel good
How’d I get so lucky, how’d I-
God, you’re a— fuck
You’ve got the perfect pussy—made for me
Made for me, made for me, made for-
You turn your head and capture his mouth with your own, whimpering into him as he nips at your bottom lip and bites. You scrape your fingers through his scalp, pulling at his locks, and Frankie whines a tortured noise—giving an especially hard thrust that pries a yelp from your throat. He rears his head back, catching your gaze, a concerned line creased into his brow. “Y-You okay?”
“No- nono, yes Frankie. Again, right there,” you beg, lashes fluttering.
He darkens—the timbre of his voice made husky and raw as he drinks in the sights and sounds of you mewling for him, splayed and needy. “You like that?” Frankie drives into you again, sharp and searing as he bottoms out, the smattering of curls at the base of him soaked with your gloss. “You need it hard, baby? You want it rough?”
You whimper, clawing desperately at the nape of his neck. “I just—I just want you, all of you,” you pant as you hold his stare—the gorgeous, chestnut gleam of it—and the wordless expression that crests over his features makes you want to cry. The precious indent in his cheek, the stubble littering his jaw, his sculpted nose and clever lips, the sad rings under his eyes—the grooves he thinks you don’t notice, the grooves he tries to mask by always taking care of you, always putting you first, even when he shouldn’t.
Fuck, he’s so beautiful—he’s so beautiful you could weep.
“You have me,” he rasps breathlessly, bowing to meet you in a messy whirl of tongue and teeth before breaking away—forcing himself up off his hands and back onto his shins. He hooks an elbow under your knee, letting the other frame the outside of his hip. “I’m right here—you have me, you have me-”
Frankie’s hips are frantic now, pulsing in short, strong bursts as he grinds into you. He dips a hand to your center, pad of his thumb working erratic, sloppy flicks over the sensitive nub of your swollen clit. Your feet arch, the muscles there constricting as the tension in you mounts.
“Babe.” You’re whining now, vulnerable and shaking and fuck, you’re going to come apart—any moment now, any unbearable second, you’ll snap. “F-Frankie, baby oh god—”
You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes screwing shut as you shatter. Like a vase crashing onto kitchen tile, you break into a million jagged fragments. Your cunt seizes, legs spasming against him as he fucks you through your orgasm, and it doesn’t take long for the tight contractions of your heat to yank him right off that same ledge. The both of you—tumbling and fracturing into terrible, perfect shards—to be intermingled and scattered among each other’s glass pieces.
Indiscernible. The same.
When you glue yourself back together again, you will find parts of him there - here, within you - filling your jigsawed cracks like golden ore.
Frankie slips out of you with a squelch and a huffed groan, collapsing to the mattress in a panting heap. His cum dribbles from your apex and you shiver at the feeling of it—at the feeling of him, warm and wet and lingering inside you. He rests his cheek on your breast while you both catch your breath—rising, falling. Waxing, waning. Two pitter-pattering hearts beating in time.
The sheets have been sloughed, lazy and forgotten, to a crumpled pile on the wood floor and the steam once rising from the mug on the nightstand has long since disappeared. It’s too muggy for you two to be this entwined—his leg draped over you, a big arm slung across your belly—but neither of you dare move. Neither of you have the energy, never mind the desire.
The clock whispers in the morning quiet.
A new bird claims the branch the finch left—she sings now, roosting there in the birch.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur sleepily, drawing patterns into the valley of his spine, mapping out his freckles and moles and scars. “Thank you,” you say. Thank you for putting up with me, thank you for understanding me, thank you for listening even when I cannot speak. “I love you so much.”
Gently, silently, Frankie tilts his head, bristled hair peppering your flesh as he mattes your skin with his lips; laving along your breasts, across your clavicle and up the plain of your neck—each kiss a response, each kiss a truth.
You don’t have to apologize
You don’t have to thank me
I love you
I love you
I’m right here
I love you
tags:
@pedros-mustache @roxypeanut @frannyzooey @djarinsbeskar @read-and-rec @keeper0fthestars @krissology @greatcircle79
#frankie x reader#frankie morales x reader#frankie x you#frankie morales x you#triple frontier fic#frankie morales#frankie catfish morales#francisco morales#pedro pascal#fanfic#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal fanfic#hurt/comfort#triple frontier
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hometown (lee jeno) teaser
pairing: jeno lee x reader
genre: smut, angst
teaser word count: 1.5k
fic word count: 7k+ (it looks like it may end up being, like, 11-12k? i’m unsure)
teaser warnings: wet dream, one-sided emotional affair, jerking off into a shared bathroom sink, some discussion of math, general hatred of “the System”, mentions of depression
general plot warnings for the fic: infidelity: reader cheats on yuta and jeno cheats on his original character gf and neither of their partners find out so there isn’t even a nice little revenge scene at the end... it’s literally just them getting away with cheating, leftist thought points/philosophies discussed even if they aren’t outright stated as leftist, both implicit and explicit discussion of mental illnesses (mostly depression and suicidal ideation but like it isn’t explicit ideation and they don’t actually want to die they kind of just don’t want to exist), general disillusionment with the system, jeno and the reader are not very happy people and are actually full of a lot of hopelessness about society and the future of the planet as a whole, explicit mentions of American politics/legislation/etc. and implicit criticization of them, mentions of drugs (weed), the characters are so self-aware that it hurts me to write them because i feel bad for them and feel even worse for their significant others
A brief taste of hair in his mouth - he doesn’t like it, he decides then and there - before you pull yourself away from him, laughing softly at the way you’d accidentally shifted just as he’d leaned in to press a kiss against your forehead. You reach up to smooth the wrinkle between his eyebrows, a gesture more symbolic than anything, and he straightens his face out himself, trading the hair-in-mouth disgust in for the gentle smile he’d had just before being so rudely assaulted. It’s as you start to move your hand away from his face that the two of you meet eyes, and a corner of Jeno’s mouth turns up as he circles his hand around your wrist to stop it mid-air.
“Kiss?” He asks, one of his brows arched now. You can’t look at it too long, knowing that the urge to pluck away at his stray hairs will overcome you. Instead, you train your gaze on his cupid’s bow, thinner upper lip giving way to the kind of full lower lip you love to sink your teeth into. Jeno makes the prettiest noise when you do so.
“Mhm,” You respond, sounding noncommittal to the world but absolutely sure to the boy you’re straddling. He grins fully now, right before leaning up to capture your lips in his. The first touch is just a little clumsy, just slightly awkward, but after the initial meeting it’s only up from there. It’s easy, natural, the way you dissolve into each other, a mess of tongue and teeth as his hands grip the cloth across your back that much harder, as you grind the apex of your thighs down into his with that much more force. Time progresses at the speed of light. Time doesn’t progress at all.
It’s only a matter of seconds before Jeno cums in his pants, but it’s only a matter of seconds before you do, too. He knows it. It’s what happened when he’d actually lived through this, and it’s what happens now, over and over again, a moment preserved in time with a delicacy only minds can make. The stuff of dreams, literally.
Jeno wakes up right before it happens. It isn’t jarring only because he’s used to it. His fourth alarm of the morning is blaring, and he uses one hand to haphazardly wipe the sleep out of his eyes while extracting his other arm out from underneath his girlfriend in order to reach his phone. She’s sound asleep - she always is - and he envies her for a moment before turning the alarm off and, for good measure, turning his goddamn phone off too.
It’s a bit fucked, he realizes once he’s properly come to, for him to have a wet dream about you when Minhee is right there, still sleeping off the way he’d fucked her into the bed last night. He’s had this revelation twelve nights and days in a row now. For a split second he feels bad, feels as if he’s the worst person on Earth, but it’s easily overshadowed by the way his cock is straining in his boxers. This has happened for the past 12 days too.
Jeno’s always wanted to have a daily routine.
He slides out of bed, careful not to wake Minhee, before slipping the nearest shoes on - gold Nike slides, a birthday gift from Jaemin who’d insisted that Jeno wear colorful things even if it’s just in their dorm room - and making his way to the bathroom him and Jaemin share with Renjun and Donghyuck. They’re the best suitemates he could possibly have, but he’s even more glad in this moment: none of them will be awake ‘til noon. It’s a Saturday.
He can jerk off in peace.
Just in case, Jeno locks both the bathroom doors and double checks to make sure that they’re locked before he finally, finally slips a thumb under his waistband, forcing it down with almost gratuitous speed. He can’t help the soft grunt that bubbles up from the back of his throat as he wraps one hand around his dick. He braces the other against the mirror for balance, just in case.
Jeno swipes across the base of his tip with his thumb, his eyes sliding shut at the feeling. He moves his wrist up once, lets precum drool over his own fingers for a second before sliding his hand back down with purpose, slicking himself up to make the slide between his cock and his calloused palm easier. It isn’t Minhee’s face or body that sear themselves into the inside of his eyelids as he strokes himself, bottom lip folded in between his teeth. You’d love to bite it, tug on it. He imagines your face as you’d cum from grinding against him that one time.
He tightens his grip.
He’d never actually fucked you: you hadn’t wanted to lose your virginity to someone who was so starry-eyed, so untarnished by the ways of the world. You didn’t want to take the virginity of someone like that either. It felt wrong on every level somehow. You’d made sure to tell him so, never one to mince words, not even as a 16 year old. The breakup hadn’t come long after the singular time he had (in his pants, he remembers with a wince… always with a wince when he isn’t dreaming of it) and although it didn’t work out romantically between the two of you, you’d stayed friends for the rest of your high school careers. Even now, both in different parts of the country for college, the two of you keep up, more or less, with each other. It’s friendly in a way it wasn’t before.
You’d been having your manic pixie dream girl arc the year you’d dated him, Jeno supposes now. Cynical, hopeless, bitter at the world and hating everything and everyone. The world was and is awful, and you were too aware of it, or so you said. Jeno wants to laugh so badly at that old version of you, the one that had broken his heart, but he finds that he can’t anymore. A too-big part of him thinks you might’ve been right about everything.
You’d slept with YangYang Liu in senior year, had called Jeno afterwards to see if he’d go with you to get Plan B at 3 a.m. on a Friday. It’d been hardly a week after he’d cum embarrassingly early while sleeping with someone - a girl from his third period class - for the first time. He’d swallowed his suddenly resurfacing heartbreak to pick you up and drive you to the nearest CVS in the same car you’d made out with him so many times before. He’d swallowed his moans later that night as he lay in bed, fisting his cock tightly at the thought of gripping your thighs so hard they bruised, at sinking into you, at how warm, how wet, how tight - fuck!, he’d hissed to himself then, having bitten so hard into the hand he’d used to quiet himself that blood bloomed from broken skin.
Jeno had cum hard then, and he cums just as hard now, canine splitting the flesh of his lip as he muffles his long, drawn out groans. The metallic taste of blood is enough to push him further over the edge, and he practically hunches in on himself as spurts of opaque white liquid land in the bathroom sink. He’s satiated for now. He remembers all the work he has to do - midterms are upcoming - and his post-orgasm glory fades as soon as it’d come.
After an earth-shattering orgasm to properly wake him up, everything else feels twice as mundane as usual. Jeno’s quick to run hot water in the sink, making sure all evidence of his one-sided emotional affair is gone, before brushing his teeth and pissing. He’d shower, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to. Sometimes, he can’t bring himself to for two days, or three. Deodorant and Minhee’s perfume are his best friends now. Donghyuck, psych major that he is, calls it depression. Jeno, hellbent on never letting Hyuck be correct, calls it ‘finally experiencing ego death’.
He thinks Hyuck is right, though. He won’t say so.
Jeno’d come in as a mechanical engineering major, though he thinks he might switch to computer science. If he’s going to be a corporate shill - he’s realized, quite quickly, that there’s not much else to be - he may as well do it as efficiently as possible. He’d started college with the firm belief that the world is easy to change, and that he can help to do so. He’d dispelled this concept less than three weeks in.
He has midterms to study for, and corporate shill-dom to look forward to for it. Jeno should open the blinds - Jaemin isn’t here right now anyways, and Minhee’ll sleep through that, too - and sit down at his messy desk and get to work. He should study up on eigenvectors and eigenvalues - they’re easy, but they’re comfortable, and Jeno has started to like comfortable - or work through his solids textbook. He should, he should, he should.
Jeno doesn’t even pause between leaving the bathroom and climbing back into bed. Minhee shifts, and he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead before settling in beside her.
He has this moment, so he takes it. He doesn’t feel like he has many moments to himself anymore.
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Fic Rec Bingo!!
So instead of Fic Rec Thursday, I thought I'd do something a little different this week and recommend 25 fics based on this bingo card (although it turned into 26, oops). I kept most of these as CM because that's my blog's focus, but due to the nature of the prompts, there are 5 Marvel (Irondad) ones & 1 Sherlock towards the end!
from @lightveils on twitter, but found posted on tumblr by @cywscross <3
1. A fic with a premise that shouldn't work but does
I never would've thought I'd enjoy a fic with Spencer as a little rebellious shit because it seems so ooc, but I loved this one!
las vegas kid by trashcanbarbie - 1.9k, 1ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Gambling, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Young Spencer Reid, Teenage Rebellion, Protective Aaron hotchner, Pre-Canon, Father-Son Relationship, Teenage Spencer Reid
JJ raises her eyebrows, “so, you're trying to say counting cards isn't cheating?”
“No,” he grins, boyish and charming, “it is.”
2. A fic you've reread several times
Discipline Changes by fullofcrazyness - 1.2k, 1ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Comforting Hotch
Jack stopped and looked at his dad, finally seeing that his dad wasn’t actually angry. Concerned and relieved, but not angry. He was about to say something when he saw someone in the doorway, white as a sheet.
“Papa?”
3. A comfort fic
i'm always tired, but never of you by @iamrenstark - 2.2k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Derek, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Derek Morgan Needs a Hug, Men Crying, Gunshot Wounds, Blood and Injury
When Spencer figured it out, he was stepping out of the elevator on the bottom floor of Quantico, and he went to tell Derek he loved him like he did every day, but he froze up, because he was afraid he wouldn't hear it back.
(Or, Spencer thinks his boyfriend is falling out of love with him.)
4. A cathartic fic
Every Little Transgression by @58thacademic - 1.6k, 1ch, Gen, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Spencer Reid, Protective David Ross, Protective Derek Morgan, Mentioned Suicide Attempt, Spencer's Backstory, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Episode: s03e16 Elephant's Memory
Ok so. Elephants memory was really good because we got Reid backstory. But I'm still annoyed that he didn't defend himself against Hotch. So this was born.
5. A fic you'd print and put on your bookshelf
One Call Away by GhostInTheBAU - 204k, 32ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Dubious Consent, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Domestic Violence, Rape Recovery, Referenced Past Drug Use, PTSD, Hurt Spencer Reid, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Flashbacks, Healing, Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Eventual Smut
When Reid's boyfriend attacks him, leaving him broken and bleeding, he calls the first person he thinks of for help. He calls the only person he really wants to see. He calls Hotch.
6. A fic you associate with a song
I associate this fic with The First Thing You See by Bruno Major. I think if you listen to the song, you'll easily see why <3
You Make Waking Up Worth It by @guccifloralsuits - 2.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Fluff, Minor Angst, Established Relationship, Morning Routines, Hurt/Comfort, Good Things Happen Bingo
“Morning sweetheart,” Derek says, pausing briefly to ruffle his hand gently through Spencer’s hair. The genius nuzzles into the touch but doesn’t reply. It’s too early for conversation, Morgan knows. Pretty boy may get up earlier than he does, but it takes the younger a lot longer to really wake up.
7. A fic that inspires you
This fic could have been in so many categories because I adore it, but I wouldn't have started writing Rain is a Chance to be Touched without this fic so it definitely belongs here.
Forgive Me For All I Could Not Become by @degrassi-fanatic - 105k, 20ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Angst, Case Fic, Confessions, Complicated Relationships, Near Death Experiences, Friends With Benefits, Smut, Miscommunication
In which Reid has always been good at hiding things. He hid his father's departure and his mother's illness from social services. He hid his addiction from his team. He hid his sexuality from the world. He hid his inappropriate feelings from his boss.
That is until he's bleeding out in Hotch's arms, in an abandoned church, in Oklahoma.
From there on out, Hotch and Reid learn to make a complete mess out of each other.
8. A fic that brought you on board a new ship
Even though it's unrequited, this was the first fic that really had me going !!! at Penemily <3
Another Wide-Eyed Girl by mallfacee - 2k, 1ch, Gen/Derek Morgan & Penelope Garcia, Penelope Garcia/Emily Prentiss (Unrequited), Coming Out, Internalised Homophobia, Derek Morgan is a Good Friend, Friendship, Gunshot Wounds, Episode: s03e08 Lucky
Derek Morgan is handsome and calls her “baby girl” and smiles at her like she’s the only girl in the room. Penelope Garcia knows she should be swooning and all she can think is that there must be something wrong with her not to react to a man like that giving her all this attention. Two years later she meets Emily Prentiss and understands.
9. A fic you wish could be a movie
Listen, I adore the soulmate trope, and an angsty moreid soulmate movie? Fucking sign me up right now
i need you now but i don't know you yet by @iamrenstark - 3.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt Derek Morgan, Mutual Pining, Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Buford Mention, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Season 5
It goes like this; Spencer hasn't spoken to his soulmate since he was ten, didn't know their gender or their name or a single thing about them. Spencer's soulmate doesn't want him, and that's okay.
10. A fic that led to you making friends with the author
I'm doing two because fuck you that's why
This was one of the first fics I read of Adam's and I immediately fell in love with his writing! And I'm pretty sure that we ended up becoming friends after I rec'd it!!
Plum Sauce by @goldencatchflies - 1.5k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Jealousy, Platonic Morcia, Episode: s07e13 Snake Eyes
Garcia tells Spencer about what she thinks happened between her and Derek. He doesn’t seem too happy about it...
I read this from Syd and absolutely loved it, and like with Adam, we became friends from there! (I mean technically husband and wife, but, y'know. Semantics.)
You Belong With Me by @spencerspecifics - 11.4k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Song Fic, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Fluff
A fluffy Moreid fic based on You Belong With Me by: Taylor Swift
11. A fic you associate with a place
This reminds me of a chilled Sunday afternoon on my old sofa in my living room, with the fire on in the background. I read it all in one sitting and loved every word <3
Metanoia by @makaylajadewrites - 39k, 16ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Canon Typical Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Established Relationship, Near Death Experiences, Frostbite, Rape Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Spencer Reid, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending
Oh, Derek… He couldn’t stand the thought of him bursting in with SWAT in tow, gun at the ready, only to descend those creaky stairs and find his naked, bleeding body, vacated of life, crumbled on a red-stained mattress. The realization that he was going to die at the end of this was catching up to him, but maybe it would be better that way.
In which an unfortunate resemblance to an unsub's victims puts Reid right on his radar.
12. A fic that made you gasp out loud
Gasp out loud might be a *bit* of an overreaction, but this one took me on a rollercoaster and I loved every second of it (all of bau-gremlin's fics will do that to you tbh)
The End by @bau-gremlin - 3.1k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Graphic Violence, Stabbing, Blood and Injury, Temporary Character Death, Hurt Spencer Reid, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Spencer Reid
The famous interview with Chester Hardwick ... except Hotch and Reid get separated and Reid is left alone with Hardwick and a prison-made shiv.
13. A fic you found at the right time
You're Going to be Okay by fullofcrazyness - 2.6k, 1ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Dark, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Sad Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Depression, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending
Spencer was no stranger to depression. His father leaving him, his mother’s episodes, being twelve years old in a Las Vegas high school. All of those things made him very familiar with the illness.
“I… I think I need some help.”
14. A fic that you would read a fic of
Chain Reaction by EloquentDossier - 42k, 16ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Alternate Universe, Texting, Dialogue-Only, Text Fic, Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Angst, Implied/Referenced Past Drug Use, Canon Divergence, Pining, Oblivious Aaron Hotchner, Happy Ending
A dialogue-only AU in which Hotch texts what he thinks is Rossi's new number but is actually the slightly eccentric stranger whom Hotch knows only as "Spencer." What follows is something neither man could have ever quite expected.
15. A fic that made you laugh out loud
The Bet by @degrassi-fanatic - 1.6k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Bets & Wagers, Humour, Fluff, Canon Divergence
“Fifty bucks says Hotch writes you up and sends you to sexual harassment sensitivity training.” she declares as she stares him down.
Without looking away from her, Reid takes out his own wallet and flips it open to pull out a fifty dollar before placing it down right next to Prentiss’s own money.
“Fifty bucks says Hotch will go out with me.”
16. A fic that gave you butterflies
The healing and dynamics in this one is just.... off the charts :')
Who Spencer Reid Loves by @blueberriesandbubbles - 36k, 11ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Abusive Relationships, Domestic Violence, Abuse, Hurt Spencer Reid, Mutual Pining, Rape Recovery, Healing, Fluff
Derek Morgan has been in love with the resident genius as long as he's known him. When Spencer enters a relationship with a mystery man, Derek is unhappy. He is even more unhappy when he meets this man. Spencer starts acting different and Derek knows something is wrong and he has a feeling its connected to the man Reid is dating.
17. A fic that embodies something you value in life
The utter and total love and devotion in this fic just punches me right in the gut every time I reread it
A Little Fall of Rain by jack_hunter - 4.3k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Spencer Reid Whump, Autistic Spencer Reid, Major Character Injury, Secret Relationship, Team as Family, Dad Rossi
Morgan crept up behind the doctor and snatched the headphones off of his head, earning a yelp of a protest as he slipped them over his own ears.
“Les Mis?” Morgan asked with a quizzical look, “didn’t peg you as the musical type, Pretty Boy.” Spencer snatched the headphones back.
“I’ve always loved the theatre and I went to see Les Misérables with-... a friend last Friday.”
18. A favourite AU
The Curious Case of Dr. Reid by severaance - 37k, 10ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Transgender Character, Fluff, Trans Spencer Reid, Light Angst, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, Smut, Insecurity, Happy Ending (Warning for Homophobic & Transphobic Slurs)
"And your names for the order, please?" The barista asked, eyes flickering expectantly between the two before her.
"Spencer," she answered, although she was not talking to the barista. "I'm Spencer."
The man before her had the same idea. "Derek."
19. A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading
I stayed up one night and read pretty much all the marvel fics this author has written, but this was the last one that I simply could not resist. The next day wasn't pretty :/
The more you say, the less I know by forthenightisdarkandfullofterror - 13.9k, 3ch, Gen/Irondad, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Amnesia, Protective Pepper Potts, Not Endgame Compliant, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Blood and Violence, Hurt Peter Parker, Whump
Tony wakes up from snapping with amnesia and for the life of him can't remember the kid hanging around, claiming to be 'just an intern'. Feelings get hurt.
20. A fic that made you feel seen
heavy in my bones by hopeless_hope - 4.4k, 1ch, Gen/Irondad, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Whump, Father-Son Relationship, Dad Tony, Worried Tony Stark, Angst, Chronic Illness, 5+1 Things
Five times Peter lied to someone about his chronic pain, and one time he told the truth and got the help he needed.
21. A fic you love without knowing the source material
(I mean this is literally all marvel fics but I'll rec this one because I loved it so much)
the locker room by searchingforstars - 15.5k, 3ch, Gen/Irondad, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Arguing, Miscommunication, Crying, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rape Recovery
Peter's falling apart and he doesn't know how things will ever go back to normal again after Ryder.
22. A fic you've gushed about IRL
Genuinely, this fic is better than most published fiction I've read...
The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle - 220k, 37ch, Gen/Irondad, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse, Alternate Universe, Hurt Peter Parker, Foster Care, Identity Reveal, Slow Build, Disordered Eating, Homelessness
Ben and May divorced before Peter’s parents died, so when Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.
So he leaves. Simple.
Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help. Peter isn’t about to turn down an opportunity to fight alongside Tony Freaking Stark, but he also isn’t going to let his hero know that his recruit is a fifteen-year-old homeless dropout. So they strike a deal. Peter will help Tony. In return, the mask stays on. And that’s when things get complicated.
23. A fic you still remember many years later
The Transport Series by ancientreader - 135k, 2 works, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Backstory, Canon Drug Use, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Physical Disability, AU, Important Character Death, First Time, Developing Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Humour, Fluff
How to become a consulting detective. // Jim's lessons are hard to unlearn.
24. A fic with a line or two that you've memorised by heart
"He has held up buildings and nuclear bombs and whole entire countries on his back. Peter’s body is the heaviest thing he’s ever held."
when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by @madasthesea - 4.4k, 2ch, Gen/Irondad, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Peter Parker, Crying, Forehead Kisses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Hugs, Platonic Cuddling
But he knows. He knows. He can feel it. Peter’s dead.
Peter Parker watches as Tony carefully arranges his limbs on a cot.
“Mr. Stark,” he tries for the dozenth time. No one hears him.
25. Free Space
And to round it off, we have to celebrate the fic that really and truly welcomed me into the CM fanfic world...
Chanel by @4x24 - 24k, 7ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Getting Together, Spencer Wears Makeup, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Typical VIolence, Humour, Fluffy Ending, Pining, Smut Heavy
Penelope mentions offhandedly one night that she thinks Spencer might look good in makeup.
Spencer takes the suggestion to heart.
Derek likes the new look - and Spencer - more than he probably should. (Season 4)
#fic rec bingo#fic rec friday#criminal minds#sherlock#irondad#cm#johnlock#moreid#irondad and spiderson#hotchreid#penemily#derek morgan#spencer reid#aaron hotchner#penelope garcia#emily prentiss#sherlock holmes#john watson#tony stark#peter parker#irondad fic rec#moreid fic rec#hotchreid fic rec#penemily fic rec#criminal minds fic rec#criminal minds fanfiction#moreid fanfiction#hotchreid fanfiction#penemily fanfiction#irondad fanfiction
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Hopelessness of Wanting [Part 2]
<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->
Frederick Chilton x Reader
Continuation of an angsty dark fic request.
Warnings: suicidal thoughts/attempt (I made myself real sad with this one so be warned if you’re vulnerable to negative thinking), NSFW, smut (gender-neutral), unhealthy relationship, depression, neurodivergent reader. Melancholy rambling.
3,200 words
“Don’t worry about what Dr. Chilton thinks,” Nurse Clerval advised as soon as he was out of earshot. “He’s an asshole.”
“Yeah, but”—you tugged the hem of your scrubs—“He’s right. I keep messing up. I think he hates me.” You stopped there, too ashamed to admit you were the biggest fuck-up on the entire staff, new or not, or that you could tell Dr. Chilton regretted his decision to hire you.
“And the rest of us hate him. Just keep doing your job, learn the ropes—he’ll back off.”
You nodded silently and continued your rounds, delivering meds and checking in on patients. Amy had to be restrained again when she wouldn’t stop biting. Julianne seemed more confused lately, though you hadn’t known any of them long enough to tell what was normal.
Clerval’s words hung over you. It didn’t seem right that everyone hated Dr. Chilton. He was a little brusque, yes, but intelligent. Wickedly sarcastic. Posturing and puffing himself up whenever people he admired came to visit the hospital, and he wanted badly to impress them. Lonely.
Your cheeks heated at the thought of those intense bursts of green under his brow—the first thing you noticed when he conducted your interview. His eyes almost matched the light green scrubs you wore at the hospital you trained in, though the uniform here was white (as if leaning into the One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest vibe.)
But what drew you in wasn’t that his eyes were beautiful—though they were—it was the way they made contact with yours. Staring you down with fake confidence, as if he were forcing it. That stare must have been off-putting to most people, but it made your spirit leap with that particular spark of connection one only feels when finding a kindred spirit.
“Hey! Still sulking? Hurry it up,” Clerval called, jolting you to attention. You trotted after.
It was nice having a mentor on the staff, but at the same time, it just felt like having another person to eventually disappoint.
“Here! What’s next?” you beamed.
***
Dr. Chilton didn’t back off over the next few weeks as Nurse Clerval suggested. The more you thought you were getting the hang of routines at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, the more mistakes you seemed to make, and the harder its administrator came down on you. And the more the handsome, scarred Dr. Chilton hated you, the more nervous mistakes you made.
In nursing school, you aced everything technical. Every written test. Every memorized statistic, sterilization procedure, medication instruction, and anatomy diagram. But when it came to interacting with patients and families—being compassionate yet professional—nothing came naturally. As a child, you learned how to fake eye contact by staring at the bridge of someone’s nose. How to smile bright and encourage others so they don’t reject you. So they don’t see you as cold or weird. But sometimes, you felt like an alien just parroting human behavior.
The guy you had been dating when you started working at the BSHCI said something similar to you when he broke it off. That you were “unavailable” and never understood what he needed.
There was a reason your first choice job was at a hospital where the only patients were mentally ill murderers.
Dr. Frederick Chilton was the same way. Just better at hiding it, or braver about not caring when his mannerisms rubbed people the wrong way. He didn’t fall apart like you did. He was… incredible. As soon as you met him, you knew you wanted the job. His smile was forced but friendly that first day, and you went home dreaming about getting to know him better.
But as soon as you were hired, the friendliness went out of his eyes. On your very first day, you passed him in the hall and smiled. He frowned and informed you that you were five minutes late clocking in. Everything—every forgotten ID card and typo on a patient file—was proof to Dr. Chilton that you were incompetent.
Worthless.
He even pointed it out when you couldn’t stand up for yourself and let Nurse Clerval defend you.
Pathetic.
Why did you ever think someone like him might like you?
He wasn’t an asshole. The constant reprimanding and disciplinary write-ups were no more than you deserved. It just hurt coming from someone you admired and wished things could be different with.
God, you wished just once he would smile at you again. Tell you that you did a good job.
Your fist hovered over the dark mahogany of the carved doors to Dr. Chilton’s office, poised to knock. To tender your resignation. You hadn’t seen the extravagant interior of his office since your interview, but you could imagine him in there: laying back on the leather couch sipping a Scotch, surrounded by tall shelves of medical books and sculpted wall molding. The air filled with the library smell of old paper.
In your imagination, his cold green eyes would soften, and he would ask why you were leaving. Apologize for being so hard on you. The Chilton in your mind clasped your hand, and you both blushed, wondering if the gesture was merely a show of professional support, or if it held a deeper meaning. He clasped tighter instead of dropping your hand, knowing— understanding—the heat behind your gaze.
A dull thud came from inside the office, followed by footsteps and a muttering voice, muffled through the door. The footsteps started heading your way, and you walked briskly down the hall toward the exit, not looking back when a moment later, the mahogany doors creaked open.
Coward.
There was no point quitting, anyway. You would never find another hospital job as slow-paced, where you rarely had to speak with outsiders—only the regular long-term patient-inmates, and a small staff of orderlies, guards, nurses, and psychiatrists.
Sometimes you thought you should quit nursing altogether, but then what would you do? Flip burgers? You’d be bad at that, too. There was nothing you wouldn’t be a failure at.
A fog hovered over you, creeping its tendrils into every thought, turning every tiny setback into the end of the world, and making every success unimportant. Leaving BSHCI wouldn’t make it better. Nothing would make it better. You were the fuck-up. Anywhere you went, the problem would always be you.
Every smile you gave was forced, but you kept smiling as if everything was normal. So long as nobody could see you drowning, it wasn’t real. There was still hope that you could get your shit together, and no one would be the wiser that you were actually a disgusting piece of human trash. So long as you could smile like you were fine, you weren’t a complete failure.
But the more you pretended to be upbeat—pretended to be someone likable—the more you were certain your coworkers didn’t like you. They must have been sick of covering for you by now.
A week later, the nurse you were replacing grunted, “Finally,” as you sprinted through the door three minutes after your shift started. That one unremarkable interaction was the final proof of a theory you had been nursing for a long time:
Everyone’s lives would be easier without you.
That was the final conclusion, the final, creeping thought the suffocating fog wormed into your head. The crescendo of a distorted symphony that had been subtly building to this from the beginning.
You couldn’t force yourself to smile anymore.
***
You didn’t have authorized access to the medication supply room, but you swiped a key from Dr. Tenley’s office. For a secure facility, the doctors of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane were lax about locking their own offices. She would notice it was missing by Monday morning, and there would be serious repercussions for stealing it, but you weren’t concerned. You wouldn’t be around to face them.
With the high-potency drugs available in a hospital and a working knowledge of pharmacology, ending a life could be quick and relatively painless.
The key clicked in the door. You glanced up and down the hallway to make sure no one was coming. But the coast was clear.
A halfhearted breath puffed from your nose. Part of you wanted to find it funny how easy this was, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.
You stealthily opened the windowless metal door, stepped inside, and shut and locked it behind you without making a sound. Once inside the small room, you let out a silent sigh of relief (or despair). Only a handful of people had a key, so you were unlikely to be interrupted, especially at night with only a skeleton staff on duty.
There were three rows of tall storage shelves crammed into the walk-in closet with clean tile in the few places wall was exposed. The whir of a climate-control system drowned out the pulse in your ears as you scanned for the drugs you were looking for.
You found them faster than expected. They could have at least been hidden. The universe could have put a few more obstacles in your path, but instead, the universe was giving you a big fat sign it wanted you dead.
You picked up the packaging. Turned it over in your hand.
Just a handful of these, and all the problems you cause would be over. No more reprimands. No more disappointing everyone you meet. No more wrenching in your gut every time Dr. Chilton looks at you with contempt when you long to see a smile. No more trying so hard every minute of every day.
It wasn’t like too many people would be sad you were gone anyway. Most of them will be relieved.
Your eyes stung.
Wasn’t someone going to walk in and stop you?
Your lip trembled. Why would anyone want to stop you?
Tears rolled down your face as the reality of your plan set in. Survival instinct kicked and clawed at the cloying fog of twisted logic that promised you would be helping everyone if you stopped existing, but it was losing the battle.
And then you heard someone call your name.
You sniffed and looked up. No… not someone calling your name. Moaning it. You crept to the last row of shelves at the back and gasped—Dr. Chilton had his laptop tucked onto a shelf and was watching a clip of security feed on loop. His red, glistening erection thick in his hand as he masturbated, whimpering your name over and over.
You watched silently—he was so engrossed he didn’t notice your shadow falling over the aisle. It was only when the package of drugs slipped from your hand and clattered on the floor that he jumped with a shriek, covering himself, though his massive erection was still conspicuous in his pants. His eyes bugged out at you, face red with embarrassment—but then they quickly narrowed to anger.
“What are you doing in here? You are not authorized to be in this room,” he barked.
All you could think about was what you heard—the name gasping from his lips. It overpowered every other thought. “Were you… imagining me?”
His nostrils flared. He hastily shut the laptop which was looping security footage of you outside his office door.
Then he laughed—forced and cruel. “What I imagine is not your concern. Do not read into it. I have never shown you special treatment, have I? Do you think that I could have feelings for an incompetent nurse?”
“I know that!” Your lip trembled again now that the briefest spark of hope you had was shattered. Of course he didn’t like you. He was just a pervert who jacked off to all the nurses. “Don’t you think I know that I’m worthless? You’ve made it abundantly clear.”
Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks, and Chilton’s eyes softened, as if for the first time realizing that all his attempts to hurt you had succeeded. You were hurt. And he did not enjoy it as much as he thought.
“You are not worthless,” he said quietly. Then his eyes flicked down to the floor, at the medication you dropped. He picked it up, read what it was. His expression fell. “What were you doing in here, nurse?” he swallowed.
“Nothing. I just… needed something for a patient.”
“Lie,” he said.
You looked away. Everything was numb. It barely even occurred to you that someone stopped you after all. A handsome, awkward, cruel doctor you admired was in the same room with you and had said his first kind words since the day you met.
He took a slow step toward you. Then another. His hand—slender and surprisingly large—pressed your arm in an attempt at a comforting gesture. An alien parroting human behavior.
“You are not worthless. I assure you, none of your mistakes have been grievous. You are certainly not the least competent of my staff. Far from it. So don’t…” He swallowed. “…Do not do anything rash.”
“Sure,” you scoffed. “Then why am I the one you’re always reprimanding? The one always being called to your office?” You knew what he thought of you; he was just trying to talk you down.
“That…” he began in a broken voice, “That must be painfully obvious now.”
Your eyes peeled away from the floor and found his face, and the storm of emotions flashing over it. Shame. Trepidation. A faint light of hope.
“You like me?” Your voice sounded far away. The analytical part of your brain was whirring away above the swamp of depression bogging you down with lies that nobody could like you. But it made sense. As the words spilled from your mouth, it was like a veil lifted.
Pulling pigtails. He was pulling your pigtails because he liked you. A middle-aged psychiatrist ought to have more emotional maturity handling a crush than a third-grader, but there was a reason he worked at a hospital where the only patients were mentally ill murderers. There was a reason his staff hated him. Why he was lonely, and why you desperately wanted to be the one to fill the empty space by his side.
Frederick Chilton was a lot like you.
You could understand each other and be less alone in this world, together.
***
His eyes were closed and he was muttering something self-flagellating and vaguely apologetic when the kinetic sense of you moving closer caused Frederick Chilton to look up.
No longer out at arm’s distance, you were within each other’s breathing space. And now, he was genuinely terrified—terrified you were going to return his feelings. Of the joy it might bring crashing down on him like an airplane. He read something he never expected to see in your body language, and it shook him deeper than being walked in on with his cock in his hands.
You should have reported him for ethics violations.
If you made the case to the hospital board that he created a hostile work environment because he wanted you sexually, he would lose his job and do everybody a favor.
But this—the intention in your body—this was the farthest thing from what he deserved. You confirmed his fear when your soft, perfect lips melded against his. Yet, as always when he knew a thing was wrong, he did not push you away. Did nothing to stop you. He let you deepen the kiss slowly, and you were warm, the taste of you sweeter than he imagined in all his lonely nights of fantasizing.
His cock twitched, your closeness awakening his urges again. He moaned as your lips parted, his lips parting with them, and your tongue gently probed inside. You were tentative at first, investigating only the nearest reaches of his inner lips, and then his hand spasmed on your arm, and with a low growl, he pulled your closer—then you became ravenous. All the turbulent emotions churning within you broke free in that kiss. You sobbed into his mouth, your tongue, hot and fervent, explored and assaulted the depths of him, your hands weaving into the hair behind his neck, and he could taste your salt. It was all his tongue could do to keep up—to let himself be consumed.
Dear god, if only that passion would have ended him then and there. The moment your lips met his in an unexpected act of reciprocation was the fulfillment of every want, every tattered and twisted hope—the highest delight a man such as him could achieve. And he knew—rightly so—that all that could follow was suffering of his own design.
Dear god, let me die before I see this in ruins. Let me die with my happiness.
***
The sex wasn’t all that good. But then again, you had gone into that supply closet intending to never come out, so overall, being fucked by the man you had been pining for was a positive turn of events.
It wasn’t how you’d imagined your first time with Dr. Chilton, pressed against a cold tile wall. A hungry kiss led to his clothed erection pushing against your thigh, led to you unbuckling his belt.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispered hoarsely, nervous eyes darkened with lust—and you nodded, sliding down your scrub pants, which stuck on your sneakers, hobbling your ankles. He was in too much of a rush to let you take them off—he only opened up his slacks and pulled his cock out of the fly of his briefs. And then he was thrusting into you from behind—frantic, desperate. Your ankles being bound only added to the thrill of him being in control. Dr. Chilton wanted you after all—fantasized about you—and now he was taking you, and all you had to do was surrender to his desire.
His breathy moans rose with each snap of his hips, his hands traveling up your chest under your shirt, fingers curling around your neck, possessing you. Touching every inch of skin he could get his hands on. And that noise that saved your life, your name on his lips, he chanted in your ear.
He was fast—hips racing as if this were his only chance, and if he waited, you would disappear—and he finished fast. You didn’t spend long with your face pressed to the cold tile when his moans broke into a shattered scream, and his head slumped, sweaty, against your back.
Then he turned you around to face him and got on his knees. Heedless of his own mess that he’d left sticky and bitter inside you, he pumped his fingers into you and sucked like he was fulfilling a duty. Clinical about the task, and efficient. It didn’t take him long to bring your arousal to a climax in his mouth.
After, he was quiet. When you had cleaned up, he looked at you like you were a mistake… only you weren’t certain what kind of mistake. If you reached out to reassure him, would he jerk away and tell you to never speak of this again?
“Was it… all you expected?” you asked robotically. Your arm crossed your body, hugging yourself.
And then he kissed you again, softly. He ran his fingers over your hair and pulled back just far enough to study your face. His eyes were wet, clouded with a million thoughts and regrets you would only learn about later.
“You are perfect,” he whispered.
• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •
Since I went some places this chapter... Please don’t bottle up your feelings if they’re telling you horrible things about yourself. They aren’t true, I promise. You matter. ❤️
Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255
Online chat: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/chat/
Help via Text: https://www.crisistextline.org/ (Text HOME to 741741)
List of additional resources: https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/suicide-resource-guide
Tags:
@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes / @barbasimp / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq
#frederick chilton#Frederick Chilton x reader#dark fic#angst#This was supposed to be a oneshot! *sobbing* A oneshot!!!#my writing
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the warmest bed i’ve ever known
finally got this bitch finished!
based on “tis the damn season” by taylor swift. i was also listening to the phoebe bridgers cover of “christmas song”, “last christmas” cover by pale waves (recorded @ spotify), and “home alone, too” by the staves
also this is only my 2nd time writing starker so lmk what you think plz?
happy holidays! - bloo
word count: 6.07k. this was intended to basically be a porny blurb...instead there’s so much fucking plot it’s probably overwhelming and minimal porn. i’m sorry
warnings: angst, depression & anxiety, drug use (that good kush ft some hotboxing & shotgunning), smut, character death (not tony or peter), tony’s kind of country lmao. despite all the aforementioned things, there is in fact a happy ending!
summary: peter makes the trip back home for christmas and once again finds himself caught up in deep brown eyes and a charming smile. tis the damn season.
Peter had forgotten how cold New York winters were. He’d grown used to the year-long warmth of Los Angeles. He supposed the cold was appropriate- it was as if the weather was in cahoots with the solid, frigid thing that was sitting in the pit of his stomach. The last time he’d spent Christmas in Aurora, the last time he’d seen him… Tony.
Just thinking the other man’s name made Peter flex his hands anxiously as he slid out of the driver’s seat of his black Mercedes AMG GT into the amber glow of the streetlight, gently shutting the door closed behind him, still in the overly cautious period of owning the new car. He wondered what Tony would think of it. Last time Peter had come home, he was still driving May’s old Subaru. It’d been almost 2 years to the day, now, which felt like both a century and no time at all. He wished it wasn’t so hard. He wished they hadn’t been caught in this song & dance for so long. It seemed like no matter how good Peter’s intentions, it always came down to one thing: he was so damn scared. He always ran away, no matter how badly he wanted to stay.
Scuffing a boot through the slush in the street, the brunette straightened his shoulders and made his way toward the brick building, a quick smile quirking half his mouth up as he read the neon red sign above the closed garage door. Stark’s. Memories came flooding back, the countless nights he spent cooped up in the little shop during high school, sketching elaborate ensembles and daydreaming about having his very first collection while surrounded by the smell of motor oil and the sounds of tinkering. The bell above the door jingled merrily as Peter stepped through and wiped his feet on the mat. The pleasant sound of Frank Sinatra crooning the words of “The Christmas Waltz” met his ears. Another small smile flitted over Peter’s face. That was something that tended to happen when he was around Tony.
“Just a second,” came the slightly muffled voice, a little strained. The man in question was bent over, headfirst in the engine of his old 1979 Chevy C10, the one he’d gotten senior year of highschool. The collar of a heather grey henley peeked out from under a deep red and green plaid flannel stretched over his shoulders as he leaned a little further under the hood, using a wrench to tighten what looked to be a lugnut to Peter from his spot by the door, too nervous to go further inside.
“I can wait,” Peter replied softly, trying not to stare at Tony’s jean-clad ass and anxious of the older boy man’s reaction. (It looked like Tony had done a lot of growing up over the past two years, no longer the boy he remembered. Peter supposed the same could be said about himself in a way, though he wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.)
And apparently he was right to be cautious.
Tony promptly smacked his head on the underside of the hood as he jerked upright at the sound of Peter’s voice. “Fuck.” Moving more carefully, Tony stood upright and turned around, his dark eyes wide. “Peter,” he said, visibly and audibly surprised. To be honest, it hurt Peter a little bit, how surprised he sounded. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Did they not do this nearly every year over the past seven? Had- Oh god, had something changed? Fuck, did Tony finally get tired of- Had he found-
Peter resolutely cut that train of thought off before he could panic. “Hi, Tony.” He swallowed drily, making eye contact for a moment, before casting his eyes away only for them to make their way back to the open face in front of him. “Think you have time for a quick bite to eat?” He slipped his left hand into the pocket of the new, warm wool coat he bought expressly for this trip. “It’s almost dinner time. And I have a treat,” he intoned, tapping his right pointer and middle fingers against his lips.
Tony beamed and immediately reached for a shop rag to wipe his hands, the black grease and oil smearing on the probably-used-to-be-white-at-some-point fabric. One of those hands came up to scratch at his facial hair, a new addition that made something simmer deep in Peter’s gut. The older man's brown eyes twinkled as he paused to glance at Peter. “You had me at ‘hi, Tony.’” He then proceeded to move about the shop, swiping his phone from atop a chest of metal drawers, Sinatra’s voice coming to an abrupt stop. He pulled on his old lined jean jacket (the one Peter was constantly mending in high school; now it just had small tears in some places, and what appeared to be Tony’s d-i-y patchwork in others). The sign on the front door was flipped to ‘closed’ and Tony pulled a keyring from his belt loop, locking it and flicking off the lights. The streetlights outside the building and the colorful holiday lights strung along the edge of the roof provided just enough light for them to be able to clearly see each other, the sun having set early, around four o’clock. Peter had forgotten about that as well.
He moved to grab his car keys from a pocket but Tony spoke up, patting the dark green paint of his truck’s hood and walking over to the garage door. His hand hovered over the button that would open it. “Actually, I just finished giving Delilah a tuneup, mind if we take ‘er for a spin?”
“Sure,” Peter agreed without hesitation, still feeling relieved (and grateful) that his invitation was accepted.
Tony pushed his palm against the button and paused to do a double-take after the metal door lifted completely. His eyebrows rose at the sight of Peter’s car parked in the small lot beside the shop. “Damn, L.A.. Not worried about your fancy new car?” His tone was slightly teasing, but there was a bit of shock mixed with something else as well, and it caused Peter to go hot, feeling insecure. (What if Tony didn’t like who Peter was, now? Peter didn’t exactly like who he was now.) Tony must’ve noticed his discomfort, because he cracked a grin and bumped his shoulder against Peter’s as he made his way to the driver’s side, yanking the door open. “C’mon, Parker, ‘m just fuckin’ with you. Hop in - how’da some burgers from Delmar’s an’ a trip out to the field sound?”
***
They grabbed food from the hole-in-the-wall diner down the road (the one where sixteen year-old Peter burned the shit out of his hand on his first day and promptly quit) and once they were bundled back in the truck with their burgers, fries and one banana milkshake (“yeah, but these are your favorite,” Tony had said in response to Peter’s exclamation that it was too cold out), Tony drove them out to the field behind the old high school. He parked the car under the lamppost, leaving it running in order to keep the heat on. His thick mechanic’s fingers began to fiddle with the temperature controls. Nat King Cole was playing quietly on the radio.
Peter shifted the paper bag of food in his lap, searching for words but not knowing what to say, and plucked the joint and lighter from his coat. The paper-covered filter found its way between his lips and he inhaled softly as he lit the tip. Satisfied with the light, he french inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. The first hit was always the best. Peter loved the way he could feel it all the way in his bones. He didn’t know how to describe it other than deep. When he opened them, he made eye contact with Tony in the dim light, and immediately cut his gaze away as he felt the heat rush to his face. He could feel when Tony looked away a moment later.
The lull continued and Peter gingerly held the joint between his fingertips as he exhaled, hand outstretched.
Worn fingers plucked it away, and Peter’s eyes were immediately drawn to the slightly chapped lips that wrapped themselves around the filter. “You stayin’ at um, at May's...old place?” Tony faltered as he inhaled, as if he wasn't sure what the most sensitive way to talk about it was.
“Yeah," Peter said softly as he looked down at his lap. Spending his first night in the house alone last night had made him feel the loneliest he'd ever been in his life, and that was saying something because he’d been feeling pretty miserable lately. Peter saw May everywhere he looked, waiting to hear her call for him to come taste some new-fangled recipe from the kitchen, or to please, for the hundredth time, rinse the dishes before he put them in the sink. He missed her more than he thought possible, her death earth-shattering after having already lost Ben when he was 17, back when this mess all started. When he left for the first time. When he started running away. “It’s- It’s weird but I’m...adjusting. It’s honestly not that different to when she was alive, though. Y’know- recently.” He cut himself off, not sure if he wanted Tony to know the full reality of his existence, now.
Because it was true. It killed Peter to admit it, but his relationship with Aunt May started going downhill around the time of Ben’s death, too. By the time she had her heart attack a little more than two years ago, he hadn’t seen her in over a year, or talked to her in nearly as long. It was the biggest regret of his life, pushing May away; the second was the way he essentially did the same thing to Tony, however drawn-out it had been.
Peter reached out for the joint and his fingers brushed against Tony’s, sending a jolt up his spine. “How,” Peter started, swallowing as he twiddled the lighter between his fingers not holding the joint. “How’ve you been, Tony?” He was scared to ask what he really wanted to know. Have you finally had enough? Did you stop waiting on me? Am I too late? To distract himself a bit, he cracked the window so he could ash the joint before taking another drag.
"Same ol’, same ol’,” came Tony’s reply, his voice weary. “I mean, you already know this, but nothin’ really changes here." The quiet way he said it was slightly self-deprecating and the younger man hated it, hated that he had something to do with it. (Peter remembered the way he spat the words at Tony in the wee hours of the morning oh so long ago. "I've gotta get out of this fucking town- I can’t stay here, Tony! You might be okay dying here, a nobody with nothing, but I'm not!")
That’s why I had to leave, he thought, chest tightening. I was trapped in this town. It was never you, Tony. You were perfect. You’re perfect.
"..Yeah," is what came out instead. Peter took another hit before he handed the joint back to Tony and began rifling through the grease-splotched bag, passing the older man his burger before unwrapping his own. He took the top bun off in order to lay down a handful of fries from the bag, smooshing the top back on afterwards. A moan left Peter’s mouth at the first bite, and he heard a chuckle bubble up from Tony’s chest. (He would never admit it, especially not to anyone back in L.A., anyone who didn’t know him before, but this was his favorite meal in the world.)
“Funny that you still do that. So, um,” Tony began again, stuffing a few fries in his mouth and chewing as he spoke out the side of his mouth. “I saw your new collection. It looked nice.” He licked a bit of salt off his thumb.
Peter’s ears burned as he swallowed his bite and raised an eyebrow at the man across from him. “You pay attention to fashion, now?” He fought off a smile at the thought of Tony delicately flipping through the pages of a high-fashion magazine.
“Not like- I’ve tried to keep up with your work,” Tony mumbled, swallowing, his own face taking on a bit of a rosy-hue. “Like to know what you're up to all the way out there.” The joint touched his lips for a few seconds before it made its way back to Peter’s fingers. “I do know how Google works.”
Peter shivered as he felt something flutter in the pit of his stomach at the salt grains that touched his tongue when he took his next pull. “Tastes like salt,” he breathed on the exhale, locking eyes with Tony through the smoke that had accumulated in the car.
Something flashed in the older man’s eyes as he stole the weed back and took a large hit, crooking his salt-sprinkled fingers to beckon Peter closer.
Peter’s own reddened eyes widened when he caught on to what Tony wanted, his heart picking up speed. They hadn’t done that in years. Still clutching his burger in his left hand, he used the right to support himself as he leaned over the console to press his mouth against Tony’s. He closed his eyes as he inhaled, fighting the urge to slip his tongue somewhere it didn’t belong. One of Tony’s hands came up to pull his head closer for a moment, his tongue having the same idea as Peter’s, causing him to whine into Tony’s mouth. His pants were getting tight as he licked right back in response, feeling a slight burn from exhaling through his nose. He missed this. Nobody kissed him like Tony did-
“Shit!” Tony pulled away sharply, and Peter’s heart stopped for a second. But when he realized what was happening, he couldn’t contain the surprised cackle that erupted as he saw the joint land in the other man’s lap. “Quit it,” was Tony’s reply, though he was grinning as he said it. He grabbed what was left of the joint off his jeans and stubbed it out the rest of the way on the dashboard. “It burned my fuckin’ finger.”
“Oh poor baby,” Peter shot back, shifting in his seat and taking another bite of his burger. He willed the slight chub to go away, but knew it was a lost cause. He pretty much signed up for it; he was always turned on when he was high around Tony (and most of the time when he was sober, too). Some kind of conditioning or something, he thought deliriously.
“Ya better hush up, Parker,” Tony snarked and dipped some fries into Peter’s banana shake. He rolled his neck a bit, reaching for his burger. “So, kid. Tell me ‘bout L.A..”
***
Peter was basking peacefully in his high, humming along to whatever was playing through the speakers. He and Tony had both finished their food, chatting about this and that, but nothing of real substance, their earlier stilted conversation far from their minds. Shooting the shit, as Tony called it, over some weed and a meal was their normal routine when they were younger, and it came as naturally as breathing. Peter had never met anyone else he could simply coexist with on this level, simply enjoying the other’s presence for what it was. I love you, he thought as he looked at Tony, who was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed and nodding his head along with the beat. I’m so in love with you and it scares the shit out of me.
The younger man’s eyes roved over Tony’s face as his mind raced. What was he doing? Would something be different this time? He wasn’t that angry seventeen year old anymore- now he was twenty-four, clinically depressed, and living someone else’s life. Would it be so bad to finally leave that all behind, to finally let himself have what he’s denied himself for so long? Didn’t he deserve to be happy, after all this pain? And even if it wasn’t in the cards for them, if Peter was destined to be alone, wouldn’t even the most miniscule amount of time with Tony be worth it?
Tony’s gravelly voice startled him back to the present. “I should probably be gettin’ you home, huh, Peter?” The bearded man opened his eyes and began sitting up, turning to look at him. The expression on his face was unreadable, and Peter didn’t know if he should agree or protest, so he merely lifted a shoulder in faux indifference, shooting Tony a half-smile.
Please, call me Pete… Just Pete, Peter begged in his head. Tony calling him by his full name made the ugly thing in his chest wriggle uncomfortably. Last time he was home, before he said those awful things, Tony hadn’t called him Peter in years. Yet another beautiful thing that he’d taken for granted and ruined for himself.
“Could also drive around for a bit if you wanted, see some lights.” Damn Tony and his ability to read Peter so well. The suggestion was soft, and he looked down as he said it, almost as if he was feeling shy.
Peter shook his head minutely and shifted a little in his seat, gently biting his lip. “I’m getting a little tired, haven’t smoked in a while,” he lied through his teeth, but the smile on his face was real this time.
Tony grinned right back at him.
(“What would we even do on a date? There’s nothing to do here, Tony,” Peter said with a laugh. “I dunno,” Tony replied, snuggling the lighter-haired teenager closer into his chest as they snuggled on the couch. “We could go look at the Christmas lights, get some hot chocolate… I could tie some mistletoe to the mirror in the truck. There’d be sum kissin’ involved….” He trailed off as Peter’s lips found his own. “Or we could do the kissin’ right here,” he murmured, sinking into the kiss.)
***
The drive back to May’s house was spent with Tony catching Peter up on everyone in town as they passed various houses. (“Remember Happy Hogan, the butcher?? Him an’ that pretty florist, Ms. Potts, got married last year. Think they’re havin’ a baby,last I heard.” “Rhodey’s mama died this spring, she got cancer, but he an’ Mr. Rhodes still live out here now that Rhodey’s moved home. Honorable discharge last fall. Done got himself a new girlfriend now too, Carol; he met ‘er in the Air Force. She’s a sweet one, I think you’d like ‘er.”)
When they pulled into the driveway, Tony cut the engine and hopped out. Peter did the same, grabbing the bag with their trash and patting his pocket, double-checking for his keys and lighter. He stepped around Tony, who had stopped at the bottom of the front steps, and walked up to the door, fumbling for a minute with his keys under the porch light to find the right one (it had robin’s egg blue polka-dots of May’s favorite nail polish). Tony’s footsteps followed him up the stairs.
Peter stuck the key in the lock and opened the door a crack before turning to face the taller man. “So.”
Tony’s eyes searched his own as they gazed at one another. “So,” he parroted back. His index finger went up to rub at his nose as he took a hard sniff in. There was a beat of silence. “Thanks for the joint, and uh, the company. It was good seein’ you,” he said at last, a hint of his signature lopsided grin curving his lips.
Peter felt the goodbye that was coming before it even left Tony’s mouth, and something in him broke. “Don’t leave me here alone.” The words came out of Peter’s mouth in a mumble, and suddenly he couldn’t make eye contact with Tony, losing focus and staring at his own feet instead. He felt the harsh burning of tears as it hit him again just how alone he was about to be when he walked inside, how alone he already was. He was always so fucking alone.
Even in L.A., so much bigger than fucking Aurora, New York, surrounded by thousands of people, Peter still felt invisible, insignificant. He had no friends. Sure, he had a publicist, and connections, and celebrity acquaintances & clientele. But without his money and his clothes, what would he have? What did he have when he was just Peter Parker, rather than Peter Benjamin, semi-famous designer? Nothing. (When he got the call about May, and he’d broken down in the bathroom during a business meeting with representatives for Tom Ford, he realized he had no one to call. No one to comfort him or tell him it would be okay. He’d sobbed into his pillow that night, screaming his throat raw with Tony’s number punched into his phone, ready to be dialed. He never called.) He had nothing and no one, and it was all his fault because he was so stupid, and maybe this is just what he deserved. If he hadn’t pushed everyone-
“Hey- Hey, Peter, no. Never,” Tony was saying gently, cautiously pulling Peter into his strong arms and out of his anxiety attack. “‘m not goin’ anywhere if y’don’t want me to, baby.” He tucked Peter’s head under his chin, a chill running down his spine due to the chilly evening air. “S’okay, everythin’s okay.”
Peter sucked in a deep breath through his mouth, trying to calm himself. His forehead dug into Tony’s shoulder painfully but it helped to ground him. The soothing sensation of Tony’s fingers tracing circles on his back helped, too. Peter’s breath was still hitching every so often, so he shut his eyes and tried to synch his breathing with Tony’s. It felt so nice to just be this close to someone- Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held. Tony had probably been the last one to do it, though. (He’d had sex in L.A. of course, but it was all superficial. Nothing real. Nothing like what he had with Tony- not even close.) Shifting slightly, he buried his nose in the crook of Tony’s neck, searching unconsciously for the smell he loved so much; a mix of gasoline, teakwood, and something smoky. The scent sent a shiver down Peter’s spine, and that hot feeling simmered in his stomach again. He’d always joked that he would bottle Tony’s smell if he could. Tony would just laugh and jokingly tease Peter for always having his nose in his neck or armpit.
Now Tony just hummed lightly in response, tightening his hold for a moment before relaxing. “‘Yer’okay,” he whispered, once he could feel that Peter’s breathing had evened out for the most part.
Peter pulled back a bit and stared at a spot in the middle of Tony’s chest, thinking. He decided to go for it. Worst that could happen was Tony saying no, and leaving Peter here alone, but he knew he’d end up alone eventually. But he’d delay the inevitable as long as he could. “Kiss me, T,” he said quietly, leaning in before he could change his mind. His lips brushed Tony’s and he pulled back, trying not to go cross eyed looking into the other’s eyes. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”
Tony stared at him for a moment before their mouths met again, and Peter nipped gently at his lip before clumsily walking backwards through the cracked front door, pulling Tony with him with their mouths still connected. Tony’s foot kicked it closed behind them, bathing them in darkness, and he tripped a bit when Peter clutched at the lapels of his jacket a little too hard. Cursing under his breath, he leaned back against the door and tugged Peter along, using the support behind him to balance as he toed his boots off. They disconnected momentarily as the shorter man did the same, hands still gripping the denim.
Peter licked his lip as they stood in the dark entryway. Looking up at Tony, he shrugged his coat off, letting it fall to the hardwood floor beneath them. He reached out and gently pushed the denim jacket off the taller man’s shoulders too before leaning in, stopping just before their lips made contact. “Come upstairs with me,” he whispered.
Tony’s mocha eyes flitted around for a minute, searching his face for something. Peter couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw, but Tony kissed him again before taking his hand. “Your room,” he questioned, taking hold of the banister and leading Peter up the stairs.
***
“Fuck, Tony. Right there, right there, ohhhhh.” Peter was on his back with one leg thrown over Tony’s shoulder and the other bent off to the side, the ball of his foot pushing into the mattress. The mechanic’s uncut cock was stretching his lubed hole. Tony was leaning over him and one of his hands was clutching at Peter’s hip, the other at the leg up by his face. His facial hair scratched deliciously against the pale skin on the inside of Peter’s knee as he pressed a kiss there.
(Tony had kissed and licked and sucked praises into the skin of his neck, chest, stomach and thighs as he’d fingered him open at a torturously slow pace. “So good fer me, Pete. Look at you. You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Peter had whimpered and whined the whole time as he tried to fuck himself on the thick digits whose pads were caressing his prostate.)
A moan left the older man’s lips as he looked into Peter’s eyes. “You feel so good, baby. Always feel so- fuckin’- good,” he grunted, thrusting further in the tight, wet heat. “Love fuckin’ your ass.” He dug his fingers tighter into Peter’s skin, sure to leave bruises.
Gasping, Peter arched his hips up, toes curling, cock bobbing against his stomach with every thrust. He could feel Tony deep inside him, in that place that only he had ever been able to reach. Fuck, why had he ever let this go? Never letting you go again, Tony. You can’t leave me alone. I need you. I love you. He whined, baring his neck in a silent plea and bringing his leg down so that both were wrapped around the man’s thick waist. Tony reacted accordingly; his hands moved up to clutch at Peter’s near the headboard and his mouth latched onto the column of Peter’s neck, sucking. A wounded noise escaped Peter, his hole clenching, and Tony bit down harshly at the sensation. Peter keened again, going limp on the mattress as his legs fell open to the side. “Shit, Tony, god!”
Hot, wet breath tickled Peter’s neck with every ragged exhale that left Tony’s mouth, causing the smaller to whine lewdly, squirming. “Yeah? Are you- mine? Y’gon be mine- huh, Pete?” Peter heard the unspoken question, the twinge of desperation in Tony’s voice. Will you finally be mine? He sounded tired, that deep-in-your-bones type weariness, Peter noticed as he felt his own chest start to get tight. He’d really done a number on the person who deserved it the least. And for what? To come crawling back years later, expecting to be forgiven?
Yes, he thought in response to Tony’s question, hating himself for it. One of his hands tangled itself in the crown of Tony’s head, fingers pulling the strands at the root possessively as teeth sunk into his neck again. Yours. Always yours. He let out another moan, rolling his hips in an attempt to get some friction on his neglected cock that was weeping precum as Tony continued to thrust in and out of him. “Please, please- Tony, please.” If Peter had any shame left, he’d probably be blushing at how needy and wrecked he sounded. Instead it just turned him on, knowing just how gone he was for the other man.
With a grunt, Tony redistributed his weight and brought two fingers to Peter’s lips. “Open up fer a minute, baby,” he requested softly, slipping the digits inside. Peter laved them with his tongue, coating them with thick saliva and Tony groaned at the feeling, dick twitching in Peter’s ass. Once they were sufficiently wet, he pulled his fingers away, a thin string of drool stretching to connect them to Peter’s slick lips. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, Pete, Christ.” His calloused hand wrapped loosely around the hot, rosy cock between them. “Fuck my hand, baby.”
Peter complied without hesitation, rocking his hips and pressing his shaft in and out of the slick tunnel that was Tony’s hand. He cried out when Tony’s thumb caressed the underside of the head as the cock inside of him nailed directly into his prostate. The pressure had already been a lot, but the pleasure was suddenly overwhelming in a new way. He was so close and Tony hadn’t even been touching him for thirty seconds. “F-fuck, Tony, I’m gonna- Ahhhhh-”
“Yeah, cum for me, Pete,” Tony’s warm breath heaved into his ear, tongue sneaking out to lick the outer shell and dip inside briefly at the same time he tightened his grip on Peter’s sensitive member. “Fuck, cum for me, baby, cum on my- Cum on my cock- God-.”
And with a cry, Peter did just that, biting into Tony’s shoulder as the tension in his gut snapped, hole twitch relentlessly around the hard cock inside him as his own shot spurt after spurt of hot cum on his chest; some reached the hollow of his throat and his chin. “God, Tony, shit, shit, shit.”
“Yesssss, Pete, holy fuck.” Tony buried himself inside one last time, his mouth latching onto the column of Peter’s neck as he reached his orgasm, shoving himself inside as deep as possible. His dick twitched, painting Peter’s insides with his spend and making him groan.
They stayed that way for a moment before Tony pulled back to look into Peter’s eyes. “Lemme clean’ya up,” he offered gently as he carefully pulled his softening cock out of the heat of the younger man’s ass. There was a slight burbling sound, and he brushed his lips against Peter’s when he saw the embarrassment flash across his face. “Hol’ on.” Climbing out of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom that was adjoined to Peter’s room.
Peter’s heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest as he lay among the sheets, bringing his hands up to his chest to fiddle with each other anxiously. It couldn’t be over. He wasn’t ready for it to be over. He wasn’t ready to be alone again.
When Tony walked back in, he got back on the bed, gently wiping the cum off Peter’s chest with a warm rag, smirking at the full-body shivers that ran through the young man in response to the cloth being swiped lightly over his nipples. Once his chest was clean, Tony moved down to run the fabric between Peter’s ass cheeks, collecting the milky-white substance that was leaking out of the hole.
“Stay,” Peter whispered, once Tony had thrown the washcloth in the hamper and climbed back into bed at Peter’s invitation of patting the spot beside himself in bed. He wiggled so that his back was pressed up against Tony’s front. His fingers tangled themselves with those on a slightly larger hand and as he let his eyes slip shut, he felt Tony’s lips press a kiss into the sweaty curls at the back of his head.
***
When Peter woke up, it was well past noon. The bed was so warm that the heat from his and Tony’s bodies trapped up under the fluffy comforter would be sweltering if he didn’t crave it so much.
Peter swallowed drily as he looked at Tony’s face in the afternoon light, peaceful in sleep. At some point during their sleep, they had shifted to where they were facing each other. He wanted to trace his fingers along the strong facial features in front of him, but he refrained, not wanting to wake the older man. He knew he needed to talk to Tony. He knew that Tony deserved better. But maybe Peter could be selfish just this once... It was Christmas after all. Tis the damn season and all that.
Leaning forward, with a hand pressed gently against Tony’s chest, Peter pecked his lips against the sleeping man’s in a kiss. He got no response, so he did it again, adding a little more pressure. Tony began to stir; his arm wrapped lazily around Peter’s naked waist, pulling their bottom halves together.
“G’mornin’,” Tony mumbled sleepily as he blinked a few times before his gaze focused on Peter. His voice was scratchy and rough, and Peter’s hips jerked slightly in response as he whispered back his own greeting, partially because Tony had begun to get hard. The mechanic brought up a hand and took hold of Peter’s chin, pulling their mouths together as he ground their burgeoning erections together.
Peter wrapped a leg around Tony’s waist as they lay there on their sides and began to gently rock his hips. “Tony,” he mewled, eyes screwed shut. The words were bubbling up inside him, just like the arousal was blooming in his gut. One of his arms wrapped around Tony’s neck, pulling their bodies together as close as they could get.
“Yeah,” came Tony’s breathy reply. His eyes were roving over Peter’s flushed face as he undulated his own hips, thumb coming up to press against the younger’s spit-slick bottom lip. “Whadisit?”
Peter took the digit into his mouth for a moment and they made eye contact as he swirled his tongue around the tip, fellating it. He released it from his mouth with a pop, biting his own lip. “Am I too late,” he asked quietly, burying his face in the muscled chest before him, pecking tender kisses on the heated flesh. “Do you still love me?” His voice shook as he continued, breath faltering as well as the sensations built up. He squeezed his eyes shut even though Tony couldn’t see the tears building in his eyes as he chased his pleasure, preparing for the inevitable pain that was sure to follow.
“Pete.” The way Tony said his name was reverent, like he didn’t see Peter for the walking mistake that he was. He was breathing heavier now, too, with the exertion of frotting their hard cocks together. “How could I ever stop, baby?” He craned his neck in order to meet Peter’s eyes. “Was just waitin’ on ya t’come home.” He pressed their lips together as Peter’s leg tightened around his waist. “Was always just waitin’ on ya t’come home,” he repeated. A particularly hard thrust had them both groaning, clutching desperately at each other as they chased that euphoric feeling. “’Course I love you, Peter. Now cum for me.”
Peter couldn’t help but obey as a sob burst from his lips, Tony following him over the edge. “I love you,” he cried, as their bodies shook together. “I’m s-sorry Tony, I love you- Don’t go, don’t ever leave me. I won’t- I promise I won’t go again. I can’t go again, I can’t leave you again. I won’t.” Tony’s thumbs came up to wipe the tears from under his eyes, and a kiss was pressed to his temple as he felt himself be pulled into those strong arms.
“I’d never leave you, Pete.”
***
The bed was cold when Peter woke again. He lay there, watching the sunset through his bedroom window. Gentle creaks could be heard as the house groaned under pressure from the falling snow. He rolled over, grimacing at the pain in his lower half and pulling a pillow to his chest. It still smelled of teakwood, smoke, and gasoline. He smiled, burying his face further into the intoxicating scent. “I love you,” he whispered to the empty house, feeling lighter than he had in years.
(Yes, the bed was cold, now. But Tony would be back to warm it up. And he’d have burgers, fries, and a banana milkshake when he returned. Maybe even a joint. Peter was glad he didn’t have to wait long. They’d had just about enough of that over the past seven years.)
#starker#hey it might be a week later than i intended to finish but at least it's out by christmas#bloo writes bad things (tm)#enjoy!
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Learning a Lesson Chapter 9
iLearning a Lesson Chapter 8
Part 1 Here, Part 2 Here, Part 3 Here, Part 4 Here, Part 5 Here, Part 6 Here, Part 7 Here, Part 8 Here
Young Actor Tom Hiddleston/OFC
Rated E -Smut, Angst, Complicated Relationship - Teacher/Actor Posing as Student, Feels, Flirting, Fluff, Oral Sex, Sex, Shower Sex, Threats, Breakups, Angst…
ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER! (but don’t worry… I’m a hopeless romantic)
Summary: It’s your first day as a teacher and things are going well. That is, until a tall, gorgeous boy with blond curls and dramatic ways saunters into your last class. When he ignores all the swooning girls to flirt outrageously with you, it is secretly thrilling. Even more so is when he tries to steal a kiss after class ends. How long will you be able to keep your defenses up?
Up and Coming actor Tom is under cover in high school for research for a movie, but the pretty drama teacher is making the long assignment so much more enjoyable
@arch-venus25, @caffiend-queen @ciaodarknessmyheart @frostbitten-written @just-the-hiddles @kellatron55 @myoxisbroken @nonsensicalobsessions @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @shae-annelore @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @hiddlesholic @yespolkadotkitty @vodka-and-some-sass @wolfsmom1 @tom-hlover @toozmanykids @delightfulheartdream @whyispistashanuttaken @hopelessromanticspoonie; @loki-yoursaviourishere @is-it-madness
The Monday morning walk to school was the longest of Emily's life. With every step she took she was tempted to turn around and run the other way, hiding under her blankets and weeping rather than going on. Only a deep seated stubborn streak kept her from giving in to her fears and doing just that.
She needn't have worried. Tom was true to his word. There was no sign of him to be found in school. No infectious laugh ringing through the hallway, no tousled halo of blond hair floating above the shorter students amidst a throng of admirers, and no ice blue eyes seeking hers for a secret wink or speaking glance.
Emily told herself it was for the best. She hoped she would eventually believe it.
The other god-send was that Jim Howard seemed to have called in sick. A substitute was in his classroom when she got there, and never had she been so glad to see the old woman than she was that day. She assumed that it was his pride that kept him from walking into the building with a black eye and a swollen jaw, and took evil delight in the fact that Tom had so thoroughly trounced him.
Tom. There he was again. She could not go five minutes without calling him to mind. It was going to be a long day. Hell, it was going to be a long forever as far as she knew. How long would it take to get over the golden boy who had so completely won her heart?
Half a day was how long it took for the news of his exit to hit the school grapevine. Emily began hearing his name whispered during her fourth period class. By the time that class ended and she made her way to the staff lounge it was all anyone was talking about. Ada, Janis, and Mike were gossiping about it when she came in, a pathetic lunch of coffee and a banana in her hand.
"Well, anyone with eyes could have seen that that boy should be a movie star," Janis was opining. "It doesn't surprise me one bit."
"Oh, come on Janis," Mike laughed, skepticism showing, "he was handsome, sure, but there's no way you saw this coming!"
"I'm not saying that," Janis sniffed. "Obviously I didn't know he was an actor. But if anyone in this school was destined for greatness it was Martinsson."
"Hiddleston," Mike corrected her. "Apparently that's his real name. You're awfully quiet, Emily. You were close with the boy, weren't you? Tutoring him after hours and all?"
"Not that close," she said with a half shrug. "He claimed to want help with an audition monologue, but that was obviously for show. We never actually worked on it. Just class."
The words were true enough as far they went, even if the meaning behind them was an all out lie.
"Still, he clearly preferred you," Ada said, giving her a probing look. "I heard all sorts of chatter about how he always flirted with you, volunteering to read romantic scenes with you. I was a little jealous, to tell the truth. I mean, and I can say it now that I know he's a genuine adult - what I wouldn't have given for a chance to sculpt a nude of that boy!"
"No wonder Howard hated him so much," Mike laughed good naturedly. "It seems it's not just the high school girls who had a thing for him."
Emily did her best to tune them out after that, and took to eating in her classroom. The days blended into each other, with no end of the day secret to make them stand out as special.
The kids in her drama class were all excited of course. The thought that they had read scenes with an honest to goodness actor, one who was going to be starring in a movie, made them practically giddy. Kate began recirculating the lie that the two of them had been involved, and no one dared to correct her. Emily was angry on his behalf, offended that anyone would believe he would fool around with a student, until she realized the implications of that thought.
It was that guilt that was the worst. Well, along with the loneliness. Even if he had been an adult, she hadn't known that. She had thought him no different than Kate or Zack or Jamie, and she had slept with him anyway. She deserved all the pain she was feeling. Deserved more than that; to loose her job and never be hired again, even. More and more she slipped into a depression.
It was nine days after she had thrown him out of her apartment and her life that the first letter arrived. She grabbed her mail from the small slot inside the door and rifled through it on the way up the stairs as she always did, expecting nothing more than bills and solicitations. When she turned over an envelope addressed in an instantly recognizable hand, she felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Hands shaking, she opened the seal, afraid that if she didn't do it at once she would never find the courage, and unfolded a letter.
"My Darling Emily," it began in Tom's loopy mess of long hand, "I know I have no right to write to you, having broken your trust in the most caddish way possible. I only hope that you will allow me the opportunity to once more take advantage of your goodness of heart and kindness of disposition, that I may try to explain why I orchestrated such a hurtful charade.
"As you are patently aware now, I am an actor of both stage and screen. I take my profession very seriously, perhaps more so than it deserves, though I like to believe that you among all women will understand why. If I can peel away the layers of a character enough to expose the beating heart within, allowing my audience to sees even a piece of the truth of humanity in my portrayal, then I truly believe that I am contributing something to this shared experience we all are living. Pretentious as that sounds, it is my goal every time I assume a role, be it Iago or a soldier, or even Mr. Toad.
"When I was cast as a student from the States, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I was educated, I blush to say my love, in the best schools in England: Eton, Cambridge, and RADA. My good fortune has been quite excessive, I know, though no teacher I encountered in all of my tutelage could hold a candle to you, my darling. In any case, I was woefully unprepared to know the struggle such a young man was going through. My director came up with the idea to have me pose in a small town school, and I admit I leapt at the chance.
"Never in a million years would I have guessed that I would meet the woman of my dreams in such a situation.
"I confess that in the beginning I flirted with you to amuse myself. You are quite breathtakingly beautiful, my sweet, and I was bored beyond belief. As the days went on, however, I began to uncover the woman underneath the starched blouses and pencil skirts. A woman with a mind that soared and a soul that sung. One who shared my passion for stage poetry, and did not back down from a challenge.
"In short, my darling Emily, I fell in love with you.
"I should have told you the moment our relation crossed over the line. Alas my love, I fear that it is a coward who worships you. I was afraid that if you learned the truth you would be angry, and I wanted to collect as many precious moments with you as I could before your warm eyes turned cold. My sin is great, I know. I do not deserve to be forgiven. Nonetheless, I place my heart at your feet in hope that you will take it up, take pity on me, and not stomp it beneath your shoe.
"The film I am working on seized the opportunity afforded by my early matriculation to begin shooting. I am relocated to New York City to start principal photography. I know it is a mere two hours from you, and yet it feels the length of the world. Knowing I will not see you each day, hold you at night, is a weight on my soul that I know I have only myself to blame for.
"I ask nothing of you, my dearest Emily, but that you allow me to write to you. I do not expect you to write back, although I live in hope that one day you will. The distance keeps us apart, but perhaps that need not be all bad. Perhaps it can give you time to heal and to trust me once more. Let me write to you, to tell you about myself - my real self - and try to win your friendship back if nothing else. It has been the most important of my life.
"I do not flatter myself that I will ever hold you again, kiss your soft lips, feel you beneath me as you gasp in passion. I have too great a mark against me to hope for such grace. I would die to have it, but will not impose it on you. Just let me try to heal the hurt I have done, and I will be content.
"If you cannot find it within you to accept my offer of friendship in the form of epistles, simply write me with one word. 'Stop' and I will cease. You are in control, my heart. I will bow to your wishes.
"Please take good care of yourself, my Emily. I wish I could be their to tend to you myself. Be warry of the dread maths teacher. I know it is no longer my place, but I would ask you to not be alone around him.
"Enough of that. I will end for now. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
"My heart is yours.
All my love,
Tom."
Emily read the letter through, barley able to make out the words through the tears welling in her eyes. When she had finished, she collapsed onto the bed and read it through again, openly weeping this time. All of the pain and guilt she had been holding in came flooding out. In the end, she had to put the letter aside so that the deluge of her tears didn't permanently mar the ink composing the lines. By then she knew it by heart, but she still loved to see his strong hand scrawled out over the page.
She did not for a moment consider writing him to stop. Perhaps she should have. There was no future she could see for the two of them. Her trust had been shattered, along with her mental image of herself, by the situation. On top of that, he was away, filming a movie in the big city that she rarely went to. When this movie was ended, who knew where he would be? Jetting off to exotic countries? Treading the boards in London? His life was exciting and adventurous, and she was a little mouse of a school teacher from a small town. How could they hope to make a relationship work, even without their drama?
The letters came far more frequently than she had expected. While it was not every day, Tom was clearly grasping every spare moment he had to pour out his heart to her. He told her all about the filming process. She felt as though she knew his costars, so vividly did he depict them. Against her will, Emily would find herself laughing at ridiculous anecdotes, or groaning in commiseration at delays in the shooting.
In the midst of all of these tales of misadventures and productivity, Tom made clear to he still hoped to win Emily back. He never missed an opportunity to praise her, calling her darling, his sweet, his dear, his love. He mentioned how he had suggested that one of the teachers should be young, smart, and sexy as an homage to her, though no one could possibly do her justice. He let slip that he had been making his costars groan with his continual referencing her, to the point where they teased him any time her name arose.
At the end of each letter he dropped all pretense, stating plainly that he loved her and would do anything to win her back. He insisted that he would wait, that the decision was entirely hers, but that he lived in hope that one day she would write him back, telling him she forgave him. Until that day, he would soldier on and try to deserve her.
Several times Emily found herself sitting down, trying to pen a reply to him. She wanted, desperately wanted, to do so. But each time, the fear would come crashing down and she would end up tearing the letter to shreds.
About two months after the letters started, there was a longer than usual gap between arrivals. Emily began to think that he had given up on her, and a panic she had never felt gripped her. She had not realized the extent to which she had been living for his words.
When an envelope finally arrived, it was in an international envelope, and the return address was London, England. That was it, then. He was out of the country. All of the stories of his homecoming, complete with welcoming family, were a dagger to her. He still professed his love, but now an actual ocean separated them along with the sea of emotion.
Their were two more letters, spread over a month and a half, and then nothing for three weeks. Depression returned. She had all but given up when a card shaped envelope, gilded on the edges, arrived in her box.
***
"Alright, out with it!"
Emily looked up from the pile of papers she was grading to see Ada standing in her classroom door, arms crossed over her paint splattered apron and a determined look on her face.
"Out with what?" Emily asked, confusion genuine.
"It's been four months, Emily," the older woman said, shutting the door behind her as she walked in and sat at one of the student desks. The same desk, Emily couldn't help but note, that had once been Tom's.
"Sorry?"
"Four months that you have been moping around! Barely showing your face in the teacher's lounge, looking like someone stole your dog and kicked your kitten. This, from the girl who was such a spark of joy when she was hired that she even ignited passion for teaching in an old war horse like me!"
"I'm sorry," Emily mumbled.
"Don't be sorry, girl! Tell me what's wrong!"
"It's nothing."
"Emily, do you think I'm blind?" Ada asked with a sigh.
"No..."
"Or that I'm stupid?"
"Of course not!"
"Good," Ada snorted. "As I am neither. Four months ago, a certain long-legged boy with more looks than are good for anyone swaggered out of this school, and you have been a ghost ever since. It's not hard to put the pieces together."
Emily gaped at her, all color draining from her face. If Ada knew, or strongly suspected, was it then general knowledge? Was her shame a joke amongst the faculty, or a cause of scorn?
"Don't worry, hun," Ada said, as though reading her mind. "Most of the people around here are blind and stupid. No one else has any idea. Well, maybe Jim, but that's a whole other can of worms that I am not too keen on digging around in. So, you fell for the boy, huh?"
"You must despise me," Emily said, voice hardly above a whisper.
"So you're failing is that you're deaf," Ada shook her head. "How many times did you hear me rhapsodize about him? Hell, I was undressing him with my eyes every damn day!"
"But you never took it farther than that."
"No, I didn't. But then I am decades older than either one of you and was not given the opportunity. Who knows what I might have done if he had batted those long golden lashes at me and flashed a dimple."
"You wouldn't have slept with a student," Emily said doggedly.
"Is that what this is? That you feel guilty? Tell me something, Emily: would you ever even consider anything inappropriate with say... Jack Simmons, or Zach Lewis, or Dan Fielding? Would it even occur to you?"
"No," Emily said at once, repulsed by the very idea.
"Of course not. Because they are children. The Simmons boy is a hulking child, true, but even though he is big, he is still an adolescent. You can easily tell in a moment he is not an adult. Now, compare that to Tom. He has a baby face, and is all gangly, but there was something about him that flatly identified him as a man. You knew that, instinctively. That is why you let things play out the way you did."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I know you," Ada said simply. "You are a good person, with a moral compass. Was it a stupid thing to do? Of course! It could have ended horribly for you, and thank god it didn't! But don't beat yourself up for listening to your intuition when it turned out to be right! Even if the boy did end up being a snake."
"What if he wasn't?" Emily asked carefully.
"I just assumed... he left, and you didn't seem happy about it... Emily, what did happen?"
Emily looked at her friend, chewing on her lip as she decided what to say. Ada already knew the worst; what harm could it do to let her in on the rest? In a rush it all came out. The clandestine affair, the trouble with Mr. Howard, seeing Tom on Nicholas Nickleby, their disastrous fallout, all of it. Ada sat there rapt as Emily spilled the whole sordid story.
"He really punched Jim?" Ada asked when she had finished, a huge grin spread over her face.
"Twice," Emily confirmed, answering smile on her own mouth. "Hard. Knocked him flat onto the ground."
"Oh, would I have loved to have seen that."
"I could have lived without it, honestly."
"Oh, hun, I don't know what to tell you," Ada shook her head. "I don't even know whether to feel jealous of you sorry for you. Both, I suppose. Ah, to be young again."
"He's been writing me letters," Emily confessed, face reddening. "Ever since he left."
"What does he say?" Ada's eyes were huge.
"Different things. How his day is going. About the filming. That he loves me and wants to be with me."
"Well what the hell are you doing here then?" Ada stood from the desk to stare at her.
"Ada..."
"Girl, if that young man wanted me, you can bet that nothing would keep me away!"
"He's in London," she muttered.
"Did something happen to all the airplanes?"
"No... In fact..."
"In fact what, Emily? Spill it? Give a woman something to live vicariously through!"
With a sigh, Emily dug through her bag and pulled out the card she had received the day before. It was an invitation to a movie premiere in New York City. Folded along with that was a train ticket, prepaid first class, and a small note:
"I would not wish Any companion in the world but you,
Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of.
Tom (with all thanks to Miranda in The Tempest)"
"Well," Ada smiled at her, "when shall we go shopping? You, my dear, are going to need a dress!"
#Tom Hiddleston#tom hiddleston rpf#Tom Hiddleston/OFC#fic#fanfic#love#angst#pining#letters#love letters#smut (in other chapters)#teacher/student relationship#BUT NOT REALLY#he is undercover for a role#I am a sucker for a happy ending I promise!
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Drunk On You- T.H.
Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader
Warnings: SMUTTTTTT. Please do not read this if you’re under 18. The Smutty part is between this signs: [...] so if you want to skip over the smut, you can, but it won’t make much sense. Also... There’s A LOT of swearing.
Summary: You’re a virgin and you’re drunk so you send a risky DM on instagram.
Word Count: Almost 6k... she’s thicc
A/N: I cannot tell you just how much I enjoyed writing this! It started as a 2 am inspiration punch and then it took me three weeks to finish it. It’s my first time writing smut, so I don’t know if that part’s good, but I like it and I really hope you do too. (Please if you do like it, reblog it so it can be read by more and more people).
Masterlist
(Gif isn’t mine and I couldn’t track the author, so credits go to the owner)
Fuck this shit, you’re 22 years old, you’re in college and as much as you enjoy leaving fratboys with blue balls in the middle of a party, you need to get this over with. You’re tired of waiting for the “right guy”, if you keep on doing that you’ll end up virgin for your whole fucking life. But where the fuck can you find a guy that’s not gonna judge you for being a sad, drunk virgin in the middle of a tuesday night? Being drunk and alone at your dorm was pathetic enough…
So you scroll through instagram for a while only to find out there’s no right suitor for the job, but in the heat of the moment you notice that Tom Holland, yes the scrawny white boy that looks 12 and plays Spider-man has just posted a shirtless picture and boy, he does not look 12 anymore. So you slide into his DM’s just for the shit and giggles:
“Hey, Tommy boy!
You probably get millions of DMs like this every second of everyday, but fuck, I just wanted to say that you are extremely hot and I am extremely virgin and I’m also drunk, so I thought I’d write you to ask for a massive favor.
Would you have sex with me just to take my virginity away? Ok, thanks.
Bye!
P.S. I think you’re great in your new film.”
And yes, you did press send to that, but of course you don’t even remember writing it in the first place the next morning while getting ready for your 9am class, so your daily routine goes on as normal.
But then, while you’re making your best effort not to fall asleep while your professor talks about some depressed artist that beat his wife and was super sexist, but was somehow excused because he made some decent poem, you hear the unmistakeable ping of your phone, which can only mean that you got a text, so you go to see it, because that is far less rude than falling asleep during class, but you were surely not ready for what was showing on your phone screen.
All air, and life to be honest, left your body for a second, you double checked, and then triple checked and yes… Tom Holland had wrote you on instagram’s direct messages.
“Holy fuck” you only realize you said that out loud when the three people closest you turn to look at you and shush you, but you’re still in shock and still have not opened the message, but maybe it’s not a great idea to open it in front of everybody, specially your professor, so you figure the bathroom will be the best place to do it.
You lock yourself in a stall and sit down, get your phone out, take a deep breath and open the instagram message. My God, you were not expecting what your screen showed:
“Haha, this is too cool to ignore! I happen to be in your area right now… Give me a call and I’ll make it happen ;)”
And yes, his phone number was there too. The phone number of THE Tom Holland! like… WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! What are the odds of him actually reading your DM? And the odds of him replying? And the odds of TOM MOTHERFUCKING HOLLAND agreeing to be your first time?! Someone up there must be having a good laugh.
But it would be rude to chicken out now, right? One does not simply say no to fuck with a Marvel actor. You gotta do it. It's your holy duty. So you reply with a simple “Looking forward to it” and you get your shit together before returning to your class.
You think about texting him while you walk to grab some lunch, but what do you say to a celebrity that agreed to deflower you?… Wait. Holy shit! You’re actually gonna have sex with Tom Holland! He’s super ripped! And you’re gonna see and feel all his bits and pieces… honestly, your panties got a bit damp just thinking about that. This is gonna be fun.
You decide to shoot the text while waiting for your iced coffee. “Hey, it’s (Y/N) from instagram. Are you serious about the thing? If so, when are you available?”
And that’s when the game begins, cause he replied almost instantly and you decided he’s just another fratboy playing around, so you played along.
“I’m dead serious, babe. I can do it tonight.”
“Nice. That’s how I like it… what time are we talking about?”
“9 ish, maybe 10.”
“Gotta give me an hour… also, it would have to be at yours, cause I live in a dorm that I share with another girl.”
“You could ask her to join…”
“Haha. Nah, this is all for me to enjoy.”
“And you will. 9:30 sounds good for you, babe?
“Perfect.”
“I can pick you up. Send me your location and I’ll go there.”
“Nice. I’m liking it already.”
“You’ll like it even more.”
You go about your day with a stupid smile all day, nervous and excited for what’s gonna happen later. Paying attention to class? What is that? Concentrating on your due projects? You don’t know her. All you can do is think about the things that man might do to you later.
Wait… you gotta shave. Also, should you go buy some nice underwear? It overwhelms you how unprepared you are and you run, abandoning everything you had to do that day to go get ready to have sex with a super hot celebrity.
You shaved, exfoliated, bought nice underwear, picked out a sexy outfit, you even tried to work out a little to look a bit more toned for him. You allowed your most extra self to come and shine, and you definetely enjoyed the process.
“What are you getting ready for? It’s wednesday. I doubt there’s any interesting party. Oh God! Do you have a date?” your roomate asked as soon as she saw you posing a skirt for the mirror when she walked in.
“I think so… I don’t know. I’m gonna meet this guy I met on instagram.” She gave you a corncerned look, but you were definetely not gonna tell her the details, that’s extremely private, it’s rude to tell people about celebrities intimate life, even if it’s with you. He didn’t mention anything about keeping it secret, but it would do a lot of harm to freely go around saying that he likes having sex with fans. It would ruin his privacy completely. At least from your part, you can guarantee no one’s ever gonna find out.
True to your word, you sent him your location an hour before the time you arranged and he called you, yes. HE CALLED YOU at 9:30p.m. on the dot to tell you he was outside and it took you a second to process the call, so much that you couldn’t voice anything more than an “Okay”… that basically ruined your super confident text attitude, and this was over the phone, would you even be able to get inside his car? The nervousness really hit you like a truck the second you hung up the phone, and your roomate noticed, but she didn’t say anything.
After taking a few deep breaths and counting to ten trying to calm yourself down, you get your purse and walk down the hallway and the stairs of the dorms and by the time you get to the main door, your legs are shaking like crazy and your palms are a little sweaty, so you gotta calm down again and remind yourself that this man is just a regular human being and that nothing has to happen if you don’t want to. And just like with tequila shots, you stop thinking and just go for it.
As soon as you see the car, you walk confidently towards it, and as he rolls down the window you can see it really is him, but you don’t let his face tear your confidence down, so you slightly smile and get in the car, it’s an extremely fancy car and you’re sure you’ve never set foot in anything this luxurious, honestly there’s no doubt that the seat your ass is resting on right now could easily be worth your entire college tuition and student loans. Okay, maybe that is an exageration, but it sure looks expensive.
“Hey, nice to finally meet you in person… I’m Tom!” he smiles in a polite and friendly matter, and you can see there’s a hint of nervousness in his smile aswell and that eases you a little because it confirms that he’s just as normal as you are.
“I’m (Y/N), pleasure to meet you. Thank you for agreeing to do this. I know it’s super weird and all, and I was definetely not expecting this outcome when I sent that message last night, but I’m grateful regardless…” you’re rambling, but he doesn’t seem to mind, he looks amused even. When you finally stop talking he drives away and you fall into a slightly uncomfortable silence, until he turns the music on and you recognize the song so you start humming along, and he joins, but other than that, there’s not much talking on the way to the apartment he’s staying at temporarily right now.
The place looks expensive, but it’s also very simply decored, it does look a temporary thing, but it also looks like a place where a single chaotic youn man exploded, so there’s empty beer bottles here and there, clothes literally everywhere and dirty dishes in the sink… but it does smell like cologne, very manly aswell… being at his place sets a whole new level of anxiety, because this is just so intimate. You’re inside his little world, his safe space, and even if it’s just for a brief moment you’re just happy that he agreed to do this with you.
“Do you want anything to drink? I have wine, beer and a spare champagne bottle from the other night… or just water. Please make yourself comfortable, sorry about the mess, I really don’t like cleaning.”
“That’s alright… you should see my dorm during finals week, that’s a whole other level of messy, haha… and wine would be great, thanks.” You’re slowly calming down and trying no to overthink about what’s about to happen and forget about the reputation of the man you’re doing it with, because the fact that he’s famous doesn’t mean he’s less human and maybe glorifying him for his job is a little rude from you. So you sit down in the couch, right next to a thrown blue hoodie, hold on a second… this is the one from Spider-Man: Homecoming, the one with the emblem of the highschool, shit, this is a historical piece of clothing for the cinematic world and you’re sitting right next to it. Shit, there goes all the progress you had made in the last fifteen minutes.
When he comes back with two glasses of wine in one hand and the bottle in the other one, you help him put down the stuff safely because he looks so stressed carrying the things and it is a small funny moment, before he sits down right beside you and it becomes impossible to get your words to come out of your mouth. So he takes the lead.
“Listen, I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of predator, okay? I don’t know why I agreed to do this, but it was not to take advantage of you, so if at any point you feel uncomfortable and you don’t wanna do this anymore, you can just tell me and we’ll call this off, okay.” He puts his hand on you knee to reassure you and it does make you feel better, and you relax into your seat and just nod a little before speaking.
“Thank you” And it comes out like you’re breathing out in relief, and that’s when he leans in to kiss you and you take a deep breath before corresponding and taking the last step to seal your lips together.
Your mind just goes blank and you forget what you were nervous about in the first place, kissing Tom is not that much different than kissing any other guy, except for the fact that his lips are softer than most guys’, but this one does have to take care of himself, it is literally part of his job and it should not be that surprising that a guy takes basic care for his appearance, but it is nice.
[…]
The kiss moves in a nice rythm and his hands start sliding from your knee to your waist and he pulls you closer to him and your hands find their courage and go to the back of his neck and so you’re also pulling him in, and all you want is to have him closer, as close as you can possibly have him, and when his hand moves down to your ass, you take that as the perfect moment to throw your leg over so you can straddle him and now both of Tom’s hands are on your ass and you grab onto his shoulders for leverage, and just because you need to breathe in properly, you let your lips disconnect and you see him beneath you.
His hand comes up to move your hair out of your face and you stare at each others eyes for a second and it doesn’t feel overwhelming anymore, so you smile at him for a brief moment, but being apart from his lips feels terrible right now so you lean back in and his hand is in your head and he’s pushing you closer to him, and your hands just slide down to his chest, you play with the chain he has on for a second and he smiles into the kiss, but then you move your attention to the buttons of his shirt and start undoing them.
You take your lips to his neck and he becomes super responsive, you find his sensitive spot quite quickly and he moves you closer to him so you feel his lenght rubbing against your core and it makes you go undo the buttons faster, before you know it he’s taking the shirt off and throwing it to the floor, when his hands are free, he takes advantage and lifts your blouse and you put your arms up to give him easy access. You’re glad you rush bought that set of nice underwear, because Tom’s eyes visibly fill with lust at the sight of the barely there lacy piece covering your breasts.
He touches your chest ever so lightly it gives you goosebumps, he traces a path to your breasts but he stops right before getting to them “Can I?” he whispers, looking straight into your eyes, and there’s something so sexy about him seeking your explicit consent, it makes your panties a little wetter, you nod lightly and he goes ahead, tracing the shape of your breasts with his fingers, like he wants to get familiar with them, he takes one of your nipples between his fingers and applies a little preasure on it, and then on the other one, he’s taking his sweet time before cupping them and pressing his lips in the space between them, and your hands respond to that by taking his hair and pulling lightly and he moans into your skin and it makes you shiver.
He keeps leaving wet kisses on your nipples and sucking on sensitive spots and you can swear it will leave marks, but who cares, you’re just over the moon with everything that’s happening and you just want more and more. He takes one hand to your ass again and he holds it tightly, using the other hand he slides to the edge of the couch and just like it’s nothing heavier than an empty box, he stands up, and you gasp because frankly you were not expecting it, he laughs a little and gives you a reassuring smile.
“I just thought we’ll be more comfortable in my room.”
“Okay, then.” You find it so odd that he’s so unbothered while carrying your full weight, like you’re not exactly the lightest woman in the world, but you won’t deny that being so close and personal to his biceps like this, it’s something you could get used to.
He takes you up the stairs, and along the corridor, once you reach the door, he turns the knob but decides to kick the door rather than opening it like a normal person, but you can’t complain because every moves looks hotter than the previous, and when he lays you down on his bed and stays hovering above you, you just can’t handle it and you kiss him again, your legs hug around his bum to bring him closer where you need him and he takes the hint, he pushes your skirt to your stomach and before he does anything else, his seeks your consent “Is this okay?” he asks, “Yes.” you say loud and clear and he rubs his fingers on your core, and it feels good, but your panties feel like a concrete wall, you just need to feel his fingers, his everything all over your body, so you arch your back and unzip the skirt and he pulls it down and throws it to a corner of the room.
He takes a second to look at you in just your underwear and you feel exposed, but he’s looking at you like you’re some sort of Goddess, he kicks his shoes off and goes to undo the button of his jeans, and it looks so slow and you need him now but you watch him and when he slides down the jeans and you can make out the shape of his member. You feel a little overwhelmed with the view in front of you, and you take a moment to take it all in. His face is crowned by (now) very messy curls, his eyes that used to be brown are practically pitch black by both the dim lighting and lust, there’s freckles all over his nose and cheeks, but they’re barely noticeable, his jawline is the most defined you’ve ever been near to, but even though there are a lot of strong features in his face, he looks almost childish and innocent… until you drop your eyes to his chest, that is.
Every single muscle in his chest has some sort of definition, he’s not as ripped as in the movies, but then again, he’s not super dehydrated and over exercised right now, and he still looks more muscular than any guy you know, his abs are defined, there’s a visible V marking the path from his hips to his member and it is stupidly making your mouth water. He has black Calvin Kleins still on, but that’s the last piece of clothing he has on, and the anticipation is killing you.
He takes you by the ankles an pulls you closer to the edge of the bed and he spreads your legs open and gives you a devilish smile before leaning back in to give you a quick yet intense kiss on the lips and he slides down to your neck and chest again, but he keeps making his way down your body towards your bellybutton and it gives you goosebumps everytime he gives you even a peck or a light touch, you’re shivering with every touch.
“Relax, love… if you want me to stop you can just say it, okay?” He says looking up at you and you nod, you breathe in to calm your nerves down, he waits for you, when you’re finally ready you nod at him again, he gives your waist a light squeeze, smiles at you and places a kiss to your stomach and keeps kissing you lower, until one of his hands goes to your thigh while the other teases the waistband of your panties, hooking one finger on it, he starts pulling it down painfully slowly, you lift your bum to make it easier for your panties to leave your body, once Tom strecthes them to throw them to some part of the room, you sit up to take off your bra and he looks intently at you while you do it, so you smile and lock your eyes to his just to make it more interesting, and you also take your sweet time unclasping the clips, and Tom starts to get impatient, you can see it in his smile, but you enjoy playing with him so even when you do unclasp both clips, you keep the piece on and he puts his hands on his hair in exasperation and you just laugh, enjoying this small moment of being the one in charge, but you give in and take the lacy bra off and throw it to him, he catches it and throws it to the side.
You’re completely naked in his bed and he’s taking the view in. “You’re very beautiful, you know?” he says and you feel the blush creep up to your cheeks, but you smile and thank him regardless, he smiles back and leans back down, he kisses one of your thighs and then the other one, before he does anything else he looks up at you, once again looking for any signs of hesitation “Are you sure you want this?” he asks from his position and when you nod, he dives in.
He presses a light kiss into your folds and you immediately feel electricity emmiting from your core. Needless to say it’s your first time recieving an oral, every sensation is new, you can’t even tell if he’s good at this or not, but for you, it feels like the best sensation in the world, his tongue dances over your clit and you just grasp the sheets for dear life and when he sucks on it you swear you could come right there, but you manage to hold it for a little longer and he keeps going, it doesn’t take long for him to introduce one finger inside, the moan you let out is just obscene and he seems to love it, because he moans too but the vibrations that it sent to your clit make you lose it and you come yelling his name like your life depends on it and he guides you through your first orgasm of the night with his mouth and finger still pumping in and out.
“You’re dripping wet, you know that?” He tells you once you’ve calmed down and have regained your ability to function like a human being, you smile at him, trying to speak, but that function has not come back yet. He kisses you in the mouth and you can taste yourself in his mouth, you start relaxing into the kiss, and he starts tracing gentle circles on the skin of your stomach and you turn your body so can be face to face and your leg happens to feel his dick, and it feels impossibly hard, so you try to relieve the pressure by stroking it with your hand, but when you get your hand down his waistband, Tom stops you “If you touch me now, I’ll be the biggest dissapointment of your life.”
“You forget that I’m a virgin… I have nothing to compare you to.”
“Still… I’ve got my pride.” he finishes as he gets up and rumbles in a drawer of his nightstand, he finds the condom and shows it to you. “Do you want to do this?”
You take a deep breath, there’s nothing you want more than do it right now, but it sure makes you nervous, still you give him verbal consent “Yes, I do.”
That’s all he needs, he stands up completely and takes his underwear off, it happens quite fast, but you do get to apreciate his dick in full exposure, not that you’d know, but it sure looks like it’s gonna be hard to fit that inside of you, and you panic a little and Tom notices and chuckles while he slides the condom on, “It’s gonna be alright, I’ll make sure of it.”
He crawls back to the bed and hovers above you, his hand go to your core again and he slowly introduces one finger into you and starts pumping in and out slowly, he stays looking in your eyes, watching your every reaction, you’re moaning slightly, when he notices that you’ve gotten used to the sensation, he adds another digit and the pressure feels uncomfortable, but he notices so he waits for you to get used to the feeling before he starts pumping it, you bite your lip as you enjoy his movements, moans coming out of your mouth to the rythm of his fingers, when he starts stretching you by doing scissor motions with his fingers, the feeling increases and it is a lot more intense so you hold onto his arm, he’s still looking at you, wanting to be sure that you’re okay and staying alert to see any signs of discomfort in you, but you like it so much.
He takes his fingers out and the emptiness is just overwhelming, but when you see that he’s trying to align himself to your entry, you relax and stress at the same time. This is real. It’s gonna happen. Actually it’s happening at this moment. He looks at you again and lifts his eyebrows in question, you nod lightly and you hold on to his forearm and his neck in preparation. He pushes slowly in, it hurts a little but it’s not that bad, Tom sees you wincing and stops, waiting for you to get used to the new feeling, when you do, he keeps pushing a little. The rythm goes like that until he’s fully in.
You can see he’s having a hard time trying not to hurt you, it’s clear that he just wants to go for it, but you’re grateful he’s containing himself while you get used to the feeling of being so full right now, when you’re ready, you nod at him and he pulls slightly out, waits for you, and pushes back in. The rythm is slow at first for you to get used to it. At first it feels like too much, but the more he thrusts into you, it starts being not enough.
His grunts and moans sound heavinly to your ears, and whenever you are brave enough to just open your eyes and see him, his face is just so beautiful, he has a frown in his face out of concentration and self control, you’re admiring him when he opens his eyes and they meet yours, it’s such an intimate moment, it makes you blush a little bit, you caress his cheek and hair, interlocking your fingers in his curly locks, he lets out a soft moan in pleasure.
The pace gets faster and stronger and you’re getting closer to your high with every thrust, he’s hitting a point inside of you that you didn’t even know existed and it’s a whole new level of pleasure, it’s even making you feel like the world is spinning, you grab onto his back and scratch as you try to keep it together, he moans loudly and stops and pulls out suddenly.
“Get on all fours for me, love.” he tells you and you comply, he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed so he can fuck you while standing up off the bed, you try to arch your back to give him better access, he slides in easier now, and the sensation changes completely, he’s hitting another point that feels even better in this angle, the pleasure doesn’t let you stay stable and your arms can’t keep you up, so you press your face to a pillow and you can’t stop moaning his name, your high creeping up from your stomach once again.
“T- Tom… I think I’m gonna…”
“Wait for me, darling, I’m right there with you.”
His thrusts become sloppy and arythmic, he goes faster, his grunts louder with each thrust, your names falls from his mouth a lot more now, and his is the only word you can say at this point. You come first with an incredibly loud moan of his name. The feeling of you reaching your orgasm around his dick is enough to send him over the edge too, your name being dropped with a loud grunt, he squeezes your breast and rests his head on your back when he comes down from his high, both of you panting. You stay like that for a moment, but then Tom pulls out and goes to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.
[…]
You lay in the bed completely naked, but you do feel more exposed now that the moment’s over, so you cover up with a pillow and think about what just happened, relishing on how good it was, you figure this was the best idea you’ve had in a while, even if the most ridiculous but it worked out pretty well.
Tom comes back soon after and hands you a water bottle (because he apparently just keeps water bottles in his bathroom), you thank him and he lays in the bed with you. “How was that?” he asks you in some worried matter, like his whole career depended on your answer, you look at him and smile at him like he’s crazy, you had two orgasms, isn’t that enough proof that you liked it? when the anxiety becomes aparent in his face, you give him the verbal confirmation. “Of course I did, wasn’t it obvious?” you say while trying to hide your face, he takes your arms to stop you from doing so.
“Y/N! Don’t hide! It was actually really good for me too, and I’m happy you had a good first time, it’s cool.”
You smile at him bigger now, getting more comfortable now, and he leans to leave a kiss on your forehead, and you lay there just chilling for a while. Checking the clock in Tom’s bedside table you realize it’s almost 2 in the morning, you haven’t talked about this, but you think it’s not a good idea to stay the night, maybe he has things to do tomorrow, and you do have a class at 9, so you start to get up to recolect your clothes.
“Where are you going?” Tom asks in a whiny tone, he was right about to fall asleep before you got up.
“I think it’s time for me to leave, it’s quite late and I’ve got class tomorrow.” you reply with a slightly sad tone, just for the drama.
“You don’t have to go. There’s no way I’m letting you take an uber and I’m too lazy to get up and drive you… so stay, I promise I’ll take you to your front door tomorrow morning, alright?” also, he gives you mad puppy eyes to convince you, but you still move around the room trying to find your underwear, just to not be naked anymore.
“Okay, just let me put some clothes back on, cause this is weird.”
“Can you throw me my underwear, please?”
“Yeah, just let me try and find them.” You throw them at him once you find them among the mess and they land straight in his face, you just gotta laugh at it and he just rolls his eyes at you and puts the thing on jokingly bitching about you being rude to him and you just laugh at him while you walk back to the bed.
At some point, Tom goes to retrieve your clothes and the wine from the living room while you just scroll through your phone absent mindedly, you half read the tweets and just ignore the instagram posts you see until he gets back and gives you your barely touched glass of wine and lays back down next to you.
You stay there for a while just talking and drinking, actually getting to know each other, you tell him about your major in college, how hard it gets sometimes, and you even tell him about why you had never had sex before. He tells you about his work, his family, the things he wants to do next… he does tell you a little tiny spoiler of the future of Marvel, which you had to swear you wouldn’t reveal to anyone ever and it would be a secret you take to your graveyard. It’s a nice pillow talk, you’re laying in the bed, facing each other, his hand is lazily resting on your waist, yours playing with the chain on his neck. This is likely even more intimate than the sex itself, and it’s nice.
When you do finally fall asleep, is in that position. Wine bottle completely empty in the floor, clothes laying around, only sound in the room being the light snores of Tom and heavy sleep breathing. You’re extremely comfortable and relaxed, long forgotten how nervous you were before this happened. You could get used to this.
Your slumber is ruined when the alarm goes off at half 7 in the morning, you feel tired, but you get your clothes back on anyway, Tom takes a little longer to fully wake up, but he keeps his promise and throws a pair of sweatpants and a white shirt, he also throws a hat on just to not deal with his morning/sex hair, for the same reason, you also just put your hair in a messy bun.
He actually parks the car and walks you back to your dorm, it’s quite early, but there is some people around the hallways anyways and it makes you a bit anxious thinking you might get him in trouble if he does get recognized, but he seems relaxed and unbothered about it anyway.
“I had a lot of fun. It was really nice to get to know you… call me up if you ever want to do this again, okay?” he tells you with his hands stuck in his pockets, it makes you smile how cute he looks.
“Thank you, Tom. I really enjoyed it… thanks for not being weird about this whole thing.”
“That’s alright. Okay, take care and don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“Okay.” He gives you a last kiss on the cheek before you get inside your dorm to get ready for class, and he goes back home, and that is it.
Months go by without you ever talking to or about Tom, you just assumed that was the end of everything you lived with him and it is a lovely and super hot thing to remember, but there's nothing more to it.
Bing
Your phone goes off in the middle of the night. You were studying, so you weren't talking to anyone. As you check the notification, you freeze just like you did the first time you saw his name on your screen.
"Hey! I'm in your town! What are you up to?"
-
Tagging some people to avoid the flop:
@caeruleum-in-caritate-lupus, @softstarkk, @peterparkerbabyy, @dottirose, @legit-fandom-trash, @carostar2020, @appreciating-chase-brody, @mvmakki @madmadmilk @hollandrecs @starksparker @sunshinehollandd
#my writing#tom holland#tom holland imagine#tom holland one shot#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland blurb#tom holland fluff#tom holland smut#tom holland angst#tom#holland#peter parker#peter parker imagine#peter parker one shot#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker blurb#peter parker fluff#peter parker smut#peter parker angst#peter#perker#spiderman#spider-man#spider man#spider-man homecoming#spider-man far from home#marvel#fanfiction
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Fic: Thank you kindly, sir part 2 (Keanu x (f)Reader)
Summary: AU. After your failed audition, you head to Keanu’s auto shop so he can fulfill his promise.
A/N: This a follow up to this work and since I’m drawing blanks on new titles, I’m keeping the same. LOL. Also, I decided to write with a plus size, latina reader in mind because I don’t think I ever read a story with that combo and my brain decided that was the way to go!
Wordcount: 1,8k
Warnings: smut (rough, unprotected sex; degradation kink; spanking and choking)
You weren’t even that surprised at how much of a mess the audition ended being. You had barely any time to prepare and you knew the second you stepped inside the room that the director didn’t like what he saw. Maybe it was the fact that you were a Latina woman with actual curves, unlike all the other candidates who were paler than glowsticks and just as thin.
Whatever it was, you could see in his eyes that he wasn’t pleased and it was enough to make you self-conscious and caught up in your head. You stumbled over the text twice and before you could even have a chance to apologize and ask for another try, he was cutting you off with a thank you and a promise of a call you knew it would never come.
With a sigh, you rolled up your script and stepped out of the room, dejected and depressed, wanting nothing more than to gorge yourself and a greasy burger and enough milkshake drown sorrows.
Instead, you chew on the protein bar you kept on your glove compartment and that tasted like cardboard since you couldn’t exactly afford to spend too much money. Not when you have to gave have your piece of shit car fixed. So while you chewed on the tasteless snack, you googled the address for Keanu’s auto shop. If you couldn’t eat away your sadness, maybe he could fuck it out of you.
The place was unlike any auto shop you had ever seen. All glass walls and sleek metal countertops, very modern. The cars waiting for service were all Porsches and Audis, expensive and high end, unlike your battered old Chevy from twenty years ago.
The clientele also was a distant cry from you. Men and women on their fifties, dressed to the nines, sipping water or coffee from elegant glasses and cups. They all eyed you with mistrust with your tight jeans shorts, oversized buttondown, and dirty converse.
“Hi, I’m looking for Keanu,” you asked the women in the front desk, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other as she eyed you from the top of your head to the tip of your sneakers.
“Do you have an appointment?” She asked her nose so high in the air you wondered if she could see anything at all.
“Not really,” you shrugged. “He just said I should stop by and he would take a look at my car.” You glanced behind yourself at the parking lot and she followed your gaze, snorting at the sight of your Chevy.
“We don’t really work with that kind of... vehicle.”
“Can you just call him, please?” You asked losing your patience with this bitch.
With a grimace of disdain, she followed your instructions, her little smirk turning into a pale, terrified look that filled your heart with satisfaction.
“Mr. Reeves said you can leave your keys with me and the boys will bring your car inside. You can go ahead and meet him in his office.”
“Thank you,” you flashed her a victorious smirk, setting your car keys on her waiting hand before sauntering to the stairs, putting and extra sway in your hips, and knowing all eyes were on your ass. It was a very nice ass after all!
It took you only a couple minutes to find Keanu’s office, his name etched with dark red paint on the dark wood. You knocked once, before stepping inside and he looked up at you with a small smile, phone glued to his ear as he spoke to someone in Italian, if you weren’t mistaken.
You took the time to look around at the elegant looking office, dark wood furniture and black leather couch and chair; metal and glass desk, walls adorned with pictures of sports motorcycles much like the one you saw Keanu riding last night.
“Sorry about that,” he said finally setting down his phone and standing up, he was dressed in a light blue button-down and tan slacks. “It was a supplier.”
“No problem,” you turned to face him, eyebrow cocked. “I thought you said you were a mechanic.”
“I am,” he replied with a smirk, leaning again his desk. “At heart, at least.”
“Right,” you chuckled, checking him out. Under the bright light of his office, he looked even more handsome.
“How was the audition?” He asked, taking his phone again and dialing a number. “Barbara, hold all my calls for now, please. Thanks.”
“It was pure crap,” you huffed walking over to him, and even though he was slouching slightly, you still needed to tilt your head slightly to meet his eyes. “So I hope this visit can save the day for me.”
“You’re talking about your car or...?”
“That too.” You smiled, resting your hands on his strong chest. “But I seem to remember someone promising to fuck my pretty little pussy so...”
“That can be arranged,” Keanu smirked, large palms warm against your waist as he tugged you gently until you were standing between his legs and he could catch your lips in a kiss.
At first, it was so soft, his tongue coaxing yours into a slow, sensuous dance, while his fingers explored your heated skin beneath your shirt. And as nice as it felt, it wasn’t what you wanted or needed.
You pressed closer, your tongue tangling with his, searching for more. Your fingers nimbly undoing his buttons, as you swung a leg over his strong thigh, straddling it and rocking against the hard muscle.
“You’re not very good at foreplay, huh?” He teased, nipping at your lower lip but catching on with the program and undoing your shirt until your black bra was in display.
“I’m a straight to the main event kinda gal,” you smirked at him, bending down to press kisses to the exposed skin of his chest, while he cupped and kneaded your breasts, making tendrils of pleasure swirl in your center. Unfortunately, it was just too little to do anything for you. “I’m not made of glass, Keanu. You can be rougher.”
“How much rougher?” He asked interest peaked if the bulge in his pants was any evidence.
“Shove me down on your desk and fuck me until I can’t stand straight. Make me your little whore.”
“Jesus!” He hissed, his eyes darkening as he looked at you.
“Choke me and slap my ass. Leave bruises all over my body.”
His kiss this time was hungry and desperate, almost bruising and you loved it, your nails sinking on his shoulder as you rocked against his thigh, your cunt throbbing with the friction but it wasn’t enough.
You palmed his erection, feeling the thick length of his cock pulsing against your hand as Keanu shoved the lace of your bra down and exposed your nipples to the unnaturally cold air of his office, making them perk up. You groaned when he pinched and pulled at them and this time the bolts of pleasure gathering in your center were sharp and intense, making that knot of arousal grow.
One of his hands fell to your ass, guiding your movements, making your ride his thigh faster, harder and you keened in his mouth, feeling your orgasm getting closer and closer.
“Not yet, pet,” Keanu said, forcing you to stop. “You don’t cum without me.”
The harsh edge of command made you cunt throb and you nodded obediently, letting Keanu manhandle you until you were face-first on his desk, ass in the air and you flinched at the first sharp slap on your cheek, the fabric of your shorts doing very little to soothe the sting.
He reached around you, to undo your buttons before shoving them and your panties down your legs, hands cupping your ass as he hummed appreciatively before Keanu slapped you again making you whine and buck.
“Is that how you wanted?” Keanu asked against your ear and you could feel his erection rubbing against your drenched cunt, teasing you with temptation. You didn’t even notice him taking off his pants.
“Yes,” you gasped, pushing your ass back against him. “Exactly like that.”
Keanu just hummed, rubbing his head against your folds and you moaned, needing him inside your right the fuck now.
“I’m waiting, pet.” There were amusement and expectation in his tone and suddenly you knew what he was waiting for.
“Please, Keanu, fuck me. Fill my pussy. Make me your slut.”
“Oh baby,” he chuckled against your ear, hand coming to your throat and squeezing just the perfect amount to make you gasp and your sight blur. “You already are.”
He thrust in with one swift motion, making your cry out at being filled so wide and fast. Your entire body shook with the effort of staying still; of keeping any modicum of self-control but your higher brain function had shut down, leaving only the primal need of being taken and used. Soon enough you were rocking against him, grinding your hips to elicit those familiar bolts of pleasure, that sweet tension of desire in your core. It was enough for Keanu to take the hint and start to thrust, slow and steady and so not enough.
“Harder, please. I need it.”
He complied, using his hold on your throat as leverage to start snapping his hips so hard you heard the table groan and squeak beneath you. Now you had it. The delicious pulsing of your walls trying to pull his cock deeper inside you, his tip hitting that blessed spot with forceful thrust and you had never seen stars quite like that but when your orgasm overtook you, your sight blacked out suddenly leaving only all-consuming pleasure as your quaked and writhed and moaned beneath him.
You heard Keanu curse and hiss above you, his pace losing its coordination, becoming sloppier, even harder and you could feel your walls clenching tight around him, trying to keep him deep inside you.
“Come on baby,” you encouraged, breathlessly. “Cum inside me. I wanna feel you slicking up my thighs all the way to San Francisco.”
Keanu grunted and tugged you up until your back was pressed against his chest and he could grind into you, his hot breath against your ear.
“You have such a dirty mouth, pet. Beg.”
“Please, please, cum inside me,” you sighed, feeling the heat in your cunt start up again just as Keanu stilled. You felt his warm cum coating your walls as he groaned against your ear.
You two stayed together, catching your breath until Keanu pulled out and you felt the mess of fluids start to trickle down but you just pulled your shorts up, flashing him a dirty smirk.
“So was it worth the visit?” Keanu asked with a smirk of his own.
“Definitely.”
—
If you enjoyed this drabble, please consider reblogging and/or commenting please. Feedback gives life to us writers!
#keanu reeves#keanu reeves fanfic#keanu reeves x reader#keanu reeves x you#fanfic#plus size!reader#latina!reader#alternate universe#mechanic!keanu reeves
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Homewrecker ♡ Park Jimin
Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader with Jimin x Taehyung on the side
Genre: oh dear where to begin smut, angst(?
Word Count: 3.7k
Summary: The good are never easy and the easy are never good. And love? it never happens like you think it really should. Deception and Perfection are wonderful traits, one will breed love, the other, hate.
You’ll find me in the lonely hearts under ‘I’m after a brand new start’ but I don’t belong to anyone.
Warnings: i personally don’t think this is a warning but hey what do i know, its more of a tag, Jimin is bisexual on this one, m|m not that explicit sex, threesome, vmin, cheating.
A/N: HELLO YES I did NOT forget my series I’ve just been through it, you know? but I stay true to my word and this was kind of a though one to write but I like how it turned out, please let me know if you liked it! MMM yeah I kinda feel a depressive episode around the corner BUT i will do my best to keep on posting, my plate is just FULL FULL right now. Anywho I hope you enjoy this!
“Listen, Y/N, you asked me to spice things up! I’m just suggesting things, okay?” your boyfriend’s voice remained calm but you could hear in it the desperation at your surprise when he so casually suggested a threesome during movie night.
“And let you fuck another woman?”
“It’s actually Jimin” you paused dead in place at your boyfriend’s statement, turning to look at him in disbelief
“Jimin?” you repeat “Jimin as in… your friend Jimin” Okay so maybe giving it a second thought, Taehyung and Jimin are the closest you have ever seen two people be, dare you even say Jimin is closer to Taehyung than to his very own boyfriend, a dude you know from around campus a few years younger than you, Jungkook– but to drop the bomb and ask Jimin for a threesome was unbelievable, even for Taehyung.
Just as your ragged breathing was beginning to calm down and your mind settling, a mop of blond hair walked through your apartment door “Oh-bad timing”
“No, it’s fine” you found yourself saying after a quick glance at the man, as weird as things had just turned, there was no denying that Jimin was a beautiful creature, tousled blond hair that framed his cherubin-like face, body to kill for as a result of him being captain of the varsity dance team; you couldn’t say much about his personality, but as far as Taehyung let you know, he had to have passed his high standards’ vibe check if they hung out as much as they did.
“Y/N, please don’t feel pressured, Taetae is just trying his best” he approaches you and smiles a sweet smile your way, leading you to take a seat beside him, you feeling as if you were about to get lectured, but you could already feel an instant charm coming off of him, most certainly the reason why your boyfriend was initially drawn to him “You can always just say no, we just thought, you know, with Tae and I being close friends and all if you guys wanted to be more… adventurous, I could be your shot”
You could already feel your acceptance rolling off of your tongue as his eyes found yours, his gaze staring right through you as you felt yourself blushing when he combed his hair back, your eyes fixing on his hand, cladded with rings and may someone please get you out of your haze but you couldn’t help but wonder how good those chubby fingers would look on you, the coldness of the metal against your skin, or Taehyung’s “It’s just- I don’t know, is Jungkook okay with all of this?”
“Jungkook? Oh sweetie, yeah, absolutely” there was a slightly mischievous glint in his eyes as he smiled at you when he answered, which should have been your way of knowing that maybe, just maybe this wasn’t your smartest idea yet– or Taehyung’s.
“Yeah, fine, I’ll give in” the pair share a look and a smile for a few seconds before Taehyung takes a seat beside you, leaving you in between their bodies, Tae starts caressing your inner thigh in the way that he knows gets you going before setting your hair aside to grant himself access to start kissing and nibbling your neck; before your eyes close in delight you can catch a glimpse of Jimin’s hand settling on top of Tae’s and caressing his knuckles before the blond sets his pillowy lips under your jaw, just inches away from your boyfriend.
Jimin’s mouth finds yours before Tae’s, which you should have seen coming, if the way he had so desperately marked your skin was anything to go by; letting yourself get lost in it for a few too many seconds, fingers cradling through his scalp in a futile attempt to bring him closer to you, to explore his mouth further, the way his tongue toyed with yours absolutely delicious, before he nibbled your swollen bottom lip, separating for air and finding Tae’s face in front of yours, eyes heavy with lust, grabbing your face so he could have his go at kissing you, very much more forcefully than Jimin, but you loved it either way, parting when you had the utmost necessity to breath; things seemed to slow down as the two friends looked into each other before approaching their faces with you squished in between, still catching your breath, both of them just a few centimetres away from you, their lips dancing an all too familiar rythm for it to be their first time, the image causing the bottom of your stomach to fire up, both of your hands coming up to grab both of their clothed hard ons, making them separate their mouths.
“We should probably move this to the bedroom” Jimin mentioned, voice a little raspy, lips red and swollen as he helps both of you up to let you lead the way, Taehyung trailing behind and Jimin at the end, all three of you discarding pieces of clothing as you went further into the apartment, a few giggles escaping both of them but all you could think of was just how the night had turned a full 360º.
Once inside the bedroom Jimin just goes for it as Taehyung takes a seat on the edge of the bed, caging you against a wall and licking up your neck, his teeth finding a spot behind your ear, making you moan out loud, already putty in his hands, your fingers unconsciously reaching out to grip Jimin’s thigh "Be gentle with her," Taehyung instructs from his seat, “Make her beg”
“Ever begged for a cock, Y/N?” Jimin whispered in your ear, nibbling it a little, which had your knees buckling, his hand keeping you up, you could already feel your panties wetting.
“Please”
Jimin can see his friends’ knuckles tighten around a piece of the bedsheets, to which he can help himself but tease further with a wicked smile “Please what, Y/N?”
"P-Please, um," you stutter, squirming a little. Jimin’s hand falls to your inner thigh, dangerously close to your core, your breathing heavy and uneven at his ministrations and the idea of Taehyung just watching his girlfriend and his best friend going at it unashamed of his presence in the room.
“Aren’t you just a fucking treat” the blond is about to reach a hand down your underwear when Taehyung stands and walks up to the both of you, splitting you two up to press the shorter against the wall, kissing him ferociously "You look hot with my girlfriend’s tongue in your mouth," he growls, and for a split second you visibly shiver at the realisation that you had built up your orgasm based solely on Jimin’s actions. Tae is still kissing his friend, inducing you to just start enjoying the act too "You taste like her, too."
Your hand unconsciously reaches down to your core, playing with it while leaning against the wall for support as you watch your boyfriend and his best friend kissing, nude torsos colliding, boxers doing very little to conceal both of their hardened lengths, noticing just how both of them twitch inside their underwear and their mouths run a bit more fierce at the friction when they accidentally bump their clothed cocks against each other, a moan escaping your lips that makes both of the men turn their attention towards you.
"My turn," Taehyung demands, nudging Jimin out of the way before he could get to you, throwing you on the bed, skilled hands ridding you of your panties as his fingers start playing with your folds “You’re already so wet for us, babe”
"I wonder how he tastes," Jimin ponders from his spot beside you on the bed, and not even five seconds had passed before Taehyung offers him his slick-coated fingers, which the blond wastes no time in licking clean “Mmm absolutely delicious, Tae”
Taehyung rapidly makes way for Jimin to take his place in between your legs, hot tongue against your cunt, teasing your entrance before capturing your clit and having you a wriggling whimpering mess against the mattress, your boyfriend pinching and toying with your nipples as his friend had you shaking "How's Chim’s tongue, baby?" he uses his free hand to spread your legs a little further apart to grant Jimin better access “Talented, isn’t he?”
You settle for whimpering a little “yeah” incapable of saying much else as the two men continued to worship your body, arching up into the touch, nearly sobbing as Jimin crooks his finger and hits your G-spot at the same time. "Fuck! Jimin, please, o-oh!" you cry out, and you can clearly hear how both Jimin and Taehyung moan at the same time, Jimin humping against the mattress as Taehyung finally starts stroking himself.
"Put it in," you exhale, already knowing that you can’t hold on much longer if they keep on delaying actually fucking you “Please, Jimin, Tae, fuck me, fill me”
"What a dirty fucking mouth you have," Jimin growls "Bet you want Tae to fuck your cunt, huh? Just look at the mess you’ve already made, baby" He turns to your boyfriend, sharing a quick, sloppy and wet kiss, in which they can both taste you on their tongues “Hm not yet, you gotta earn it, TaeTae, why don’t you show Y/N how good pets behave and maybe then I’ll let you fuck her, huh”
You can’t even recognise your very own boyfriend as Jimin manoeuvred the two of them on the bed, Taehyung on top of him as the former springs free his member for the first time in the night, your boyfriend positioning his cock against his hole with much-practised ease, slipping on it with a few hisses from both of the men, leaving you not knowing whether you should be fuming at what your gut was telling you– this was not their first time doing it– but you found the sight absolutely hot nonetheless, you were probably just reading too much into things anyway.
Jimin found your gaze and held it as he licked his lips, hips bucking up further into Tae, which had resorted to arching his back for better support, moans escaping his lips “Come on, Y/N, play with us”
The only thing that could be heard in the room are skin against skin of the two friends, wet noises from you fingering yourself at the image, gasps, ragged breaths and moans "Holy shit," Taehyung sobs, hands braced against Jimin’s chest. His whole body shaking before Jimin stops his movements and tosses him to the side.
“I’d say she behave well, Tae, let’s give her a little something”
You are soon to take Taehyung’s place on top of Jimin, inhaling sharply as you allow yourself to be accustomed to his girth.
"How's she feel inside, Jimin-ah?
"So tight," Jimin gasps, hands gripping your hips, hard enough to bruise.
“Please” you whimper
"What happened to you thinking this was a bad idea, Y/N-ah?" Jimin gasps, giggling as Taehyung encourages you to bounce a little faster, slapping your thigh as Jimin squeezes your waist.
Jimin is no longer able to hold himself back as he starts pistoning into you, Taehyung’s silent moans mixing with your own as he jerks himself off, his free hand tracing your occupied entrance curiously before slipping it inside along with Jimin’s cock, stretching you a bit more deliciously, making you cry out as you finally feel your orgasm washing down on you, thighs shaking, toes curling as your boyfriend’s friend rides you through it.
All three of them moan simultaneously as Taehyung slips inside you from behind along Jimin and immediately starts thrusting as hard as he can, chasing his own built-up pleasure. Tears run down your cheeks, but you can't tell if they're tears of pleasure, of pain, of humiliation, or any of the three combined. Your body is limp against Jimin’s chest as both men use you as nothing more than a hole to fuck and you’re absolutely loving it. You’ve never been this full in your life.
"I'm not gonna last," Jimin moans from under you, more to Tae behind you than you, who has also just realised they are both spilling their seed inside you once he feels Jimin’s hot release mix with his own.
"Holy shit," you choke out, hurriedly opening your eyes to look down and see for yourself the mess you already know is there, staining the bed as them both slipped out of you. You whine, squirming before taking your side of the bed, eyes already closing with sleep, distantly hearing your boyfriend and his best friend talking.
“Well, my job here is done, Tae”
Your mind couldn’t help but wander back to the night your boyfriend, Jimin and you shared, every time Tae was gone for a little too long while going out to hang out with Jimin, the way he had so easily submitted to him, how they easily found their way around each other and from time to time you had become just an accessory to their game, now, you know that following Tae is horribly wrong– and exponentially a toxic trait– but you just had to know if your mind had been playing tricks on you when you had seen them both together.
You parked your car a few meters away, far enough for Taehyung not to see your car following his to his best friend’s house and onto a suspicious looking back alley of a closed night club but near anough to have a complete and unbothered view at the automobile–so perhaps something had gotten into you, your friends’ joking words saying that Jimin and Tae had something else to their friendship– it was stupid.
You’re about to start your engine and drive away since you had been staring at them seated and talking for nearly five minutes when you see it. Jimin pulls your boyfriend in for a forceful kiss, your mind can’t even begin to process the image when the blond one is guided to straddle the other– rather uncomfortably– on the driver’s seat, his hips grinding down as the brunet threw his head back in pleasure; they are both stumbling out of the car in a hasty manner and without being able to keep their hands– and mouths off of each other, you could feel your chest growing heavier and eyes prickling with fresh tears, head spinning and most probably on the verge of passing out when Taehyung presses his friend against the hood of the car, ridding both of them of their bottom parts of clothing in record time as you guess he presses himself into the other man, if Jimin’s pleasured face was anything to go by. You can feel your breath speeding up, a thousand memories of your relationship with Tae flashing by as you are still staring at the actions of the two friends, when you can swear you and Jimin lock eyes for a second and he throws a smirk your way as he continues to get pounded– or maybe him knowing you’re watching and that being a kink of his, or Taehyung’s is just a product of your imagination, then again, at the moment you can’t really say you know Taehyung anymore; once the tears fade, only anger remains as you race your car out of the parking spot and into the night to your apartment.
“What had I ever done to you to be treated that way?” the words burst out of your mouth in a rushed anger as Jimin opens the door to his apartment
“Well hello to you too, Y/N”
“I know”
“What exactly do you know?”
“You and Tae”
“Oh yeah, I know that”
“And I- wait. You knew?” you turn to face him, already facing you and offering you a cup of something, tea? as he smirked his infamous smirk before taking a sip out of his cup.
“Yeah, kinda hard to miss your buddy’s girlfriend following you around, you know?”
“Why would you- he had a girlfriend!” words start to try and pour out but they die before making it out of your mouth, confusion clouding your mind completely and your rehearsed string of curse words completely gone to waste as the conversation took an unwanted turn. He shrugs in dismissal.
“It was fun”
You can already feel the fire pit bubbling inside you again “Well he’s all yours now”
“Oh no- honey, you don’t get it”
“Why don’t I get, asshole?” you point a finger at him in a menacing manner but he doesn’t move an inch even when you walk towards him, accentuating each of your words “That you fucked your best friend WHO HAD A GIRLFRIEND? after you FUCKED ME TOO? What game could you possibly be playing, Jimin?”
He rolls his eyes at you as his hand brings your finger down t your side, as if he’s dealing with a kid “None, sweetheart, I don’t belong to anyone” he turns his back to you “If it is any of your interest, you were such a good laid too”
“Are you seriously trying to get in my pants right now?”
“That depends, is it working?”
“Not in the slightest”
“Oh really? Y/N answer me one thing, do you honestly think it was easy to get Tae to fuck me? that man might have loved you!” there was something accusing and almost mad in his eyes as he stared back at you, to which you cross your arms in distaste
“If he did he wouldn’t have done what you two did” you say matter of factly
“Oh Y/N-ah I have my ways to make my way into lonely hearts” he steps closer to you but you refuse to give in to him once again “It's a blessing, really, as much as you two were a couple, his heart was such a dark place, Y/N, you never gave him what he craved for, unconditional love” he is so close to you that he rests his forehead against yours for a split second before he closes his lips around yours in a chaste kiss “You and I are much more similar than what you think, Y/N, we both crave to feel alive again”
Jimin did have a charm on him, having you captured in his unhealthy but effective ways as you both treasured each other the way you had once seen him and Tae do, while also being aware of how many others like you he kept around.
“Jimin?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Why do you do all of this? Doesn’t it break your heart to see people come and go?” you asked sincerely, deep down knowing that this rodeo was up his alley, he could already tell how attached you were growing to him in such a short period of time.
“Sweet Y/N, I break a million hearts just for fun” he playfully pinches your nose, making you laugh “I might even break yours one day, huh?”
You hum in acknowledgement as the smile vanished from your lips “Sounds fair”
Months went by, fairly quickly as Jimin kept his word and effectively broke your heart sometime that week after you had asked, though really, you could understand he wasn’t the settling type – you guess that was what made the two of you different from each other “Oh my god- JIMIN!” he was laying on the ground, more like doubled over himself almost lifelessly on that goddamn back alley that had once changed the entire course of your life and love as you had known it, you approach him and try to get him to stand up, supporting his weight on you as he coughed up some blood to the ground “God, I told you someday some or your lonely hearts was gonna fight back, dumbass”
“You and Tae didn’t” your heart clenches at the memory, things did worked out pretty weird for you and him for someone who had found out his boyfriend sleeping with his best friend
“Are you still seeing Tae?”
He groans, whether in discomfort or acknowledgement, that is for him to know.
You somehow manage to get you both a cab, cleaning him up nicely and lending him a change of clothes you found in the back of your closet that once belonged to his best friend, which he knew, given the smirk he gave you when he takes them from you.
He laughs a dry laugh– very in character of him, really “I guess you could say my life is a mess but hey, I still look pretty in this” he clutches his side in discomfort – you’re positive whoever did this to him, they had quite the force to break something.
You show him his room, him smiling at you sincerely for the first time since you had met him, nothingness in his eyes, making you ache for both of you and how life turned out to throw him at you for the second – or third time. “Thanks, Y/N, after everything that’s happened”
“Sure, Jimin” you want to make yourself believe he wasn’t right all along and you two were very much alike and forget the time you had begged him to stay, he’s said it before and stays true to his word, Jimin doesn’t belong to anyone.
You wake up alone in your apartment– no surprise there. Except, there is a video waiting to be played on your phone, an unknown sender and Jimin’s face on it, sounds from what seemed to be the airport filled the background, thick sunglasses perched on his nose to hide his very much there black eye “Y/N-ah, I want to apologise, for everything. I know you’ve tried and again and again to bring me to the light but Y/N, I’m only happy when I’m on the run” he exhales loudly as his smile disappears “Deep down, all you want is love, the pure kind we all dream of but Y/N, we cannot escape the past, so you and I would never last, I will always treasure you in my heart just please, don’t contact me ever again”
#bts smut#bts imagine#bangtanarmynet#networkbangtan#jimin smut#jimin imagine#jimin imagines#jimin x reader#jimin one shot#park jimin smut#park jimin fanfic#jimin gifs#park jimin fic#jimin drabble#park jimin imagine
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