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pradapussy · 22 hours ago

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PART 2!!

A/N : sorry for the delay, i haven’t written in a very long time and im terrified that im being corny and strange. remmicks defs already OOC but thats ok. my horoscope says i gotta learn to indulge myself sometimes. theres one more, very spicy, kinda magical part after this :3

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The walk to your cottage is brief. You follow a narrow path through the woods, its trodden soil barely visible beneath the intense moonlight. You know every turn, every root, but Remmick still clings to you. His hands settle on your hips, guiding you as if you might get lost. You scoff, but he mistakes it for a sigh—and lets his hands wander, slow and possessive.

"Remmick, slow down. It’s too dark, and you’re going too fast." You let a whine slip into your voice.

He pulls you closer. "Don’t worry, duck, I got you."

Duck. The vowel drags—rounder than it should be. Almost an o. It snags in your mind like a thread pulling loose. His accent has been slipping all evening, somewhere between a Southern drawl and something that lilts. British, maybe?

He’s more of a talker than you initially thought. At the bar, he seemed to keep to himself, nursing a barely touched drink and observing the other patrons like a vulture eyeing a carcass. When he joined you on the patio, he offered nothing more than pleasantries and a light for your cigarette. Now he’s laying it on thick with compliments and charming stories. His hands finding unholy places doesn’t help your concentration. You’d be smitten if your mind weren’t clouded by a desire for violence.

That desire makes you grabby, too. You grope his built bicep and plant kisses all over his hands and face, avoiding those needy lips. You know that pair of lips is a death sentence.

The sounds of two lovers kissing down a trail are interrupted by a question. "Do you always walk girls home you barely know? Or am I special?"

"So special," he murmurs. Long fingers trace up your neck, the prickle of talons extending from their beds sending anticipation through your body.

The outline of your cabin begins to peek through the trees. You refocus. "So, Remmick... where are you from?"

Your question gives him pause. His body tenses, punctuating the moment. He breathes into your neck, hot and wet. Is he drooling?

"Oh, you know, around?" The end of the statement curls upward like a question.

"That’s not an answer," you say flatly, pulling away. His hands reach after your body, the heat you gave him dissipating like he's cold-blooded. "You’ve got all these stories about traveling the country, yet you don’t look like you’ve aged a day."

The cabin draws closer. The packed path turns loose, softer, blending with the forest floor.

"I’m blushing," he says with mock modesty. "I’m from everywhere nowadays. My home is the earth, and I am tasked to wander it for all time."

His arms lift wide, as if praising some god you don't recognize. The delivery unnerves you, like the ramblings of a zealot. You walk backward, almost at your cottage, taking his hands.

"Well, take a break from wandering tonight. I’m sure my place has room for both of us." The shakiness in your voice is barely masked by flirtation. Whether he notices or not is unclear. Your stiff shoulders shift awkwardly as he spins you, pulling you close. It’s almost romantic. Bodies pressed together in an impromptu dance. You allow yourself to swoon, just a little.

"That’s kind of you." You shuffle up to your porch, arms tangled together, Remmick in tow, lips brushing the nape of your neck. His chest siphons the warmth radiating from your skin. You spin away from him as you unlock your door, movements graceful and calculated. You step squarely into your cottage.

His face tightens as he stops at the threshold.

Your faces are dangerously close as he leans over, careful not to cross inside. "Darlin’, what gives?" He smirks. A small vein under his eye twitches.

"What do you mean, Remmick?" you ask, your voice sweet, teasing. "Something you need?" You pull off your coat, letting the cool air hit your neck. You crane it just slightly as you watch the smile drop from his face.

"Well, Con," he says, the name just as artificial on his tongue as it feels to you. "It’d be impolite to barge into a lady’s home."

"What a gentleman." Your sarcasm bounces off him. He peers past you. The cabin is tidy, well-furnished, but the scent of dust lingers. A tweed couch and a mounted bobcat head clash with your otherwise bookish and naive presentation. He cocks a brow.

"Do a lot of hunting?" he asks.

You close the door slightly, left arm hidden behind it as you lean on the frame. "Sometimes. But that," you nod to the taxidermy, "That was all my uncle. I just keep the place warm in the off-season."

A corner of his mouth quirks up. The silence stretches. "It’s October," he says slowly. His accent has shifted entirely. "Hunting season’s well underway."

His vowels are rounder, longer now. His r's linger like echoes. And his eyes are alight with fascination. "Where’s your uncle now?"

Damn.

He reaches for you. His hand stops just short of your face, once manicured digits now sharper and more dangerous. "I’d like to meet the man of the house before I come in."

"How gentlemanly. Guys like you are rare nowadays." You lean out from the doorframe, right hand bunching his collar. "You’re not from around here, are you?"

"You got me," he says, head dipping down to kiss your arm. "But I get the feeling you’re not local either."

His teeth graze your skin, leaving a trail of wet, hungry kisses. He stops just where your arm meets the doorframe. Burning red eyes meet yours, eggshell fangs just brushing the line of threat.

"We’ve got each other figured out," you muse, cupping his drooling face. "Why don’t you come in?"

SLAM.

Bodies tumble into the abandoned cottage and the door slams shut.The quiet of the cabin is disrupted by a ringing click. Except, to Remmick’s surprise, it's your form straddling his. His chest is pressed into the floor as your shin depresses his upper back. Claws fight to find flesh to tear into, but are given no purchase, bound behind him. A pair of silk wrapped manacles glints in the light of the moon. You’ve caught yourself a vampire.

“Naughty boy, you could have cut me up.” Your own voice has changed. In fact, you don’t seem like the shy and flighty Connie that Remmick has been toying with all night. Your voice is steadier now, strong, sultry, hateful.

You rise, and on your way up you grab the back of his shirt and throw him back against the wall. He sits on the floor, back against a wall, looking at you as the door mysteriously slams shut.

“What are you?” He asks, eyes half-lidded reeling from the impact.

The feeling of dark thick blood spatters on his lips as you bleed your palm onto him. A bronze dagger bites into your palm. It stings like a kiss.

“Lots of things, lover. A whore, a murderer, a poacher…” Remmick’s pupils obscure his irises, his vision going blurry as your blood slides down his throat. “A witch.” Your eyes, distinctly human, glint with dark intentions. Whispered words fill his head, the language hard to decipher. Greek? Latin? Something farther away? All he knows is that it’s casting a spell. He’s bound, struggling, and most importantly, he’s hard.

Almost immediately, He hardly registers the words you’re speaking. Latin? Greek? It’s hard to tell. All he knows is that a language he knows nothing of fills his head and casts a spell on him. He is bound, and most importantly, he is hard.

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A/N: okay i promise part 3 is all smut and also the last part. lmk how yall feel about this :3c

Don’t Hide Behind Your Rage

TAGS: Remmick x Reader , Remmick x OC , second person POV, named OC, WIP , vampire , remmick x fem!reader , dead dove do not eat, dubcon , noncon , dark fic, monsterfucker , human x vampire , feminine pronouns for reader, multi-part fic, sub!remmick, dom!reader

SUMMARY: You share a cigarette with a handsome stranger. When he offers to walk you home, both of y’all find yourselves having bitten off more than you can chew.

A/N: heyyyy sorry for contributing to the horrific amount of remmick x readers and remmick fics in general. i haven’t written for myself in so so so long and i just wanna blow off steam after finals. I don’t see a lot of sub!remmick so i make the world id like to see :) Part 2 is tomorrow :D I’m testing the waters today. Enjoy!

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A cold October at some rinky dink bar in Oklahoma is not how you expected to spend your Saturday. Parties were never your thing. Music, sure. Drinks, hell yeah, People sometimes, but all of these at once make your head spin - make you need a smoke. Honestly, nobody would expect a homebody like you at a place like this, sharing a cigarette with a total stranger. Not without good reason, at least.

Your stranger leans casually on the railing, his stubble and pink lips are highlighted by the ember of your cigarette in his fingers. He passes it back to you, his fingers are jarringly chilly but the way his dark eyes glint in the moon reassures you. This man is reason enough. You stare a bit too long, lost in thought.

“You gonna keep me waitin’, duck? Or d’ya want the wind t’finish the cig for ya.” He seems like a proper southern boy with that lilting drawl, but his diction throws you off. The words he chooses feel like another time and place.

“Sorry, dunno where my mind went.” You gingerly take the cigarette from his clammy hands. Now it’s his turn to take you in. Your skin diffuses the silvery moonlight and bronzy street lights into a color all its own. Your hair is soft and is tousled by a stray autumn breeze. He picks a flyaway piece that threatens to blind you, and tucks it behind your ear. Heat fills your cheeks.

“Sooo,” he starts “what's a wee gal like you doin out at some dive in th’middle o’ nowhere?” He leans closer towards you, looking you up and down.

“Oh nothing, just lookin for something special.” Your words are aloof, yet inviting. He hears the smile behind them. Your bright eyes glance at him purposefully, scanning his form just as he did yours. His shirt is half-tucked and his suspenders hang limply on his lean shoulders. The pants he wears are a touch too big on his cut waist. That pale blue light of the moon seems to be all the color his fair skin and brown curls of hair can absorb - save for the hint of red in his eyes.

“How mysterious, a Jane Doe sauntering around Sulphur ‘looking for something special.’” He laughs, cracking a toothy, crooked smile. “Can I ask what special thing yer lookin’ for t’night?”

“You caaan, but it’d be embarrassing to tell you since I seem to have found it already.” You smile playfully, the tip of the cigarette burning bright as you take a drag of it.

Suddenly, your cigarette burns out in the wind and is quickly forgotten. The smell of smoke, embers, and a bit of something metallic, something iron-y catches your nose. What was that? And when did your stranger get close enough to be shoulder to shoulder with you? He leans in, his face too close for comfort, but you hold steady, masking instinct with poise.. “Yeah? And what would that be, darlin’?” his attempt at being suave are thwarted by his puppy-dog eyes.

His efforts to fluster you are adorable. You one up him, placing your plump lips right in front of his, millimeters away from a kiss. Your hand squeezes on his forearm. He can smell your blood running hot, the scent of arrogance fills his head.

“You, baby.” Whispered words of a strange woman roared in his head. His unnaturally cold hands almost feel warm under yours. Muscles contract under his work shirt, responding to a multitude of emotions and desires he was unprepared to handle.

He is flustered. You can see it in the flush tips of his ears and the heat coming off his pallid face. “I appreciate your forwardness, sugar, but I dinna even know your name.” The way he pronounces “don’t” piques your interest. There is something so off about the way he speaks - it excites you because you know this man is hiding something. You smile wide and toothy just like him.

“Connie” you whisper in his ear, your soft neck exposed to him pulsing with something more intense than desire. A twitch, the name seems to stir something from a past life in him. His eyes open, half-lidded and fighting temptation to sink his teeth into your tender flesh. You pull away from him, your presence still lingering in his ear. “I oughta head home...” Remmick leans his head into your shoulder as you pull away lips brushing your retreating flesh. You catch a glimpse of him wincing with his mouth parted and fangs just barely retracting. “I’ll see you around…” There is space for a name at the end of that sentence, and he fills it eagerly.

“Remmick, and please, where are ya stayin, duck? Lemme be a gentleman and walk you home. You never know what crawls around at night” You want to roll your eyes. He can’t conceal his excitement at your invite. Remmick thinks he’s got an easy mark out of you.

“My uncle’s got a little cottage in the woods just outside of town.” A heat forms in the pit of your stomach, stronger than desire, laced with anticipation. Bloodlust. You gesture in a direction, interlocking arms with him and pressing your body to his. “We can take a shortcut so you don’t have to spend too long protectin' lil ol me.”

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A/N: if anyone’s seen lady chatterley’s lover ya already know why i chose connie as the mc’s name >v<

#corruption kink #remmick x reader #sinners x reader #remmick #vampires #vampire #sinners fanfiction #remmick fanfic

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foldingfittedsheets · 10 months ago

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my bed mattress is nearly 2 decades old now but it's still like the comfiest bed i've ever slept in (my autism may have a role in this), is it really necessary to replace it?

Hmgh. It… depends. As someone who Bonds with items especially in my comfort zone like bed and couch this is tough to answer.

A few signs that you do in fact need to replace it:

The bed has a divot where you sleep. These will always impact good sleep and support. Automatic replace.

You are tossing, turning, waking up unrested, or achey. Be very attentive to how you feel upon waking. If you need to keep a diary of how often you wake up unachey and check in after two weeks. If you're conssitently not sleeping great the mattress is letting you down.

If you're waking up congested. 90% of people do not have adequate well maintained mattress protectors. Beds can double their weight every ten years due to dead skin, dust mites and their assorted corpses as they live their life cycles, and general dust. All these thing can cause allergic congestion and is also just Not Great to breathe all night.

All this being said. I nor anyone else is gonna come take your bed from you. You can do whatever you like with your bed, ten years is when I recommend people tune in and asses their situation.

#ask ffs #bed talk #I am SO sorry this one got lost in my shuffle

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sutorus · 2 years ago

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HEART SHAKER

PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader

WC: ~1k

WARNINGS: established relationship, suggestive language, flirting, attempts at humor. fluff, somehow.

A/N: super freaking unedited i just had to get this out bc i can’t believe it’s not smut LOL

“god, you’re squeezing me so hard, sweetheart.”

you look up through your eyelashes at your boyfriend, brows set low in a warning. he only smirks.

you pump harder.

“oh fuck, it’s so tight right now.”

you huff in annoyance, slapping both hands down on your legs.

“can you stop? i lost count!”

satoru laughs at you, throwing his head back.

you cringe at how loud his movements sound in your ears, the stethoscope you were using still pressed to his skin.

you release the pressure on the cuff around his arm, sighing deeply.

“once again, i’m going to ask you,” you enunciate the words slowly, your eyes aiming at his, right behind that blindfold. “why don’t you have shoko do this?”

you’re sure if it were her measuring his blood pressure she could get actual accurate results.

satoru tilts his head, smiling sweetly.

“and why would i do that?” he singsongs. “you’re the prettiest little doctor around.”

“resident,” you correct him.

you wish so badly that he was due for a vaccine or something, just so you would have an excuse to stab him.

of course, you weren't complaining. you’re incredibly lucky that shoko took you under her wing once you got a job at the school. you weren’t able to master reverse cursed technique at her level quite yet, but you were just as good of a regular doctor as she was.

it didn’t matter how good you were though, because you weren’t a pediatrician or a saint, and it takes one of either to deal with gojo satoru as a patient.

“why do we even bother with check ups?” he asks, leaning back on the exam table. “i am literally healing my body twenty-four-seven.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing the light test hammer.

“what kind of question is that? sit up straight,” you shuffle on your chair, getting in between his too-spread legs. whore.

satoru shrugs, kicking his dangling feet. “a valid one.”

you bring the hammer down hard on his knee to check his reflexes. naturally, it stops just shy of his leg.

you don’t even have to look. you know he’s smirking again.

“turn infinity off.”

“‘turn infinity off’? you’re so cute,” he replies. you try to hit him with the hammer again to no avail. “i need to teach you some combat skills, girl.”

“and i need to examine you,” you get up off your seat, facing him. satoru leans in with a grin. “behave.”

he won’t.

“wanna play doctor?”

you ignore his voice and the obvious glee in it, a retort dying on your tongue because you do actually have to carry out a check up, to the best of your abilities.

grabbing your clipboard, you skim through his most recent health assessment records.

he complained about a migraine to shoko.

it makes your heart seize for just a moment, to think of all the stress satoru puts himself through to have his technique active at all times.

“how’s your head?” you ask him.

“you tell me,” his foot grazes the back of your knee, coaxing you closer. “any complaints?”

a dissatisfied sound comes out of your mouth as you press your hands to his chest instinctively, forcing distance between you two.

“satoru, please.”

“do you worry, baby?” he reaches out to tentatively hold the side of your face. “don’t worry about me.”

“it’s literally my job,” you trail off, head dropping.

satoru lifts your chin up and presses his lips to yours for a second or two.

“sorry, sorry,” he says before you can chastise him. “couldn’t help it. you look so cute all worked up.”

at this point you just twist your lips disapprovingly, putting the stethoscope earpieces back on.

you press it to his chest and listen as he breathes in and out.

“satoru,” you frown. “are you okay?”

“hmm?”

you look at him knowingly, a smirk of your own blooming on your face.

“why is your heart beating so fast?”

at that, your awful, awful boyfriend finally has the decency to blush.

“and you’re breathing so hard, too—“

“it’s hard, alright—“

“—we might have to schedule some follow up exams,” you click your pen to fill out the form, neglecting the way he leans into you.

“anytime,” he huffs out, breath skirting on your face where you stand between his knees. “do i get a lollipop for being such a good boy?”

“no,” you reply, taking a step forward. “but you can have this.”

you plant a kiss on his lips, letting it linger for longer than it should as he holds your hips tightly.

he hums contentedly when you pull away.

“mm, smart and generous,” satoru noses your jawline. “how did i get so lucky?”

you fight the sudden shyness rising up at his words.

“the same way i got so unlucky,” you smile at his pout. “life’s just not fair.”

he coos.

“you sweettalk all your patients or am i special?”

despite your best efforts not to, you grin at that.

“the most special,” you say, interlocking your fingers. “now get back to work.”

satoru grumbles a complaint but hops off the table nonetheless.

“thanks a bunch for seeing me, doc,” he leans down to hover his face right above yours. you push him away with a fingertip to his forehead.

“no problem. now shoo.”

you walk up to your desk to hopefully do some actual work now that your most special patient is leaving.

“ah, but i was wondering—“

“yes?” you don’t bother looking up from your paperwork.

“if you could give me some anatomy lessons sometime—“

“out!”

he slips out the door before you can turn around to see it.

you take a deep breath.

you love satoru to death, but you’re beginning to understand why shoko picked up smoking as a stress reliever.

#✩.petra.doc #✩.gojo #gojo satoru hcs #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru fic #gojo satoru au #why is tagging so embarrassing like bye #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru x gender neutral reader

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fuctacles · 2 months ago

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Changes

"Hey, you're good at making gifts, right?"

"Who is this?"

For a second, Steve blanks, wondering if he's dialed the right number. But the voice in his ear sounds right.

"Steve? Steve Harrington?"

"Dude, I haven't heard from you in forever."

"Come on, it's been a couple of months at best," Steve protests, but as he starts doing calculations in his head, it doesn't sound as short anymore.

"Uh-huh, try half a year."

"Shit. Sorry, Eddie. Moving had been... a lot. Guess I've lost track of time. How's life?"

"A lot of work. We have a few labels interested in working with us, but we have to make a few more demos to get signed for an album. But it's... It's good, it feels good."

Steve smiles at the receiver, happy that another one of his friends is following his dreams.

"That's great! I'm happy for you guys. We should meet up when you're less busy."

"Yeah, totally," Eddie agrees quickly. "I have something to tell you, actually."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"I, uh... So much has changed, man. Different city, different life... It's not Hawkins anymore, you know"

"Tell me about it," Steve chuckles.

"And I'm changing too. And I'm worried it might be too much."

Steve frowns. Change was always scary, and often meant someone would be left behind, usually him. But he soldiers on with a joke.

"What, you got even more tattoos? Human painting style?"

"You bet your ass I did," Eddie laughs.

"Well, Hawkins might hate it, but as long as you're happy, your friends will have your back. We didn't save the world for nothing, right?"

"Right," he parrots. "So, what did you want to ask me?"

"Ah! Women's Day is coming up and I'm completely blank on what to give Robin."

"Dude." There's a shuffle in the other side, like Eddie changed his position to be more comfortable. "You're her weird cosmic bestie, shouldn't you know her best? How could I possibly be of service?"

"Well," Steve draws out the word, slumping against the wall. "She buys all the books she wants, she's against expensive clothes, we're stocked on candy for a year, and we have limited space. But she said she'd like something to decorate her room, make it more homey."

"Uh, a plant?" Eddie suggests.

"Eddie. Would I be calling you if the answer was as simple as a plant."

"I'm guessing Buckley is a serial plant killer then."

"She murdered my basil plant and I haven't forgiven her yet."

Eddie snorts before making a loud hum.

"Alright then, well. A painting, a poster?"

"She already has so many posters," Steve groans. "I'm not sure there's even space left on the wall, not after she stole that huge Madonna one."

"I see the big city is doing her good, huh?"

"I need ideas."

"I don't know, man. You're close enough, get her a vibrator or something."

"Already got her one for Christmas."

It's Eddie's turn to groan.

"Just give her fake flowers, Jesu— wait. Does she like puzzles?"

"Uh, yeah? But we have nowhere to display them, so—"

"Did you know Lego has flower sets?"

"It was a great idea, thank you so much! I forgot how much fun it is."

Eddie laughs on the other end of the line.

"I'm glad to be of help. What did you get?"

"A bonsai tree. It looks great."

"Good to know you're living my dream," he chuckles.

"What do you mean?" Steve asks curiously, before flopping down on his bed for the conversation.

"I fucking love Lego, but this shit is so expensive. And, don't tell anyone," Eddie lowers his voice. "But I do like flowers, and can't keep them alive neither."

"I'll keep that in mind," Steve chuckles. "Sooo, when will you be free to meet up?"

"When you said about changes, I didn't think you mean...."

"Tits?" Eddie finishes for him, her shoulders angling in to hide. "If you can even call them that."

"No, don't hide! They're—"

A smirk grows on Eddie's face. She might be wearing make up and style her hair differently, but her dimples are all the same.

"Yeah? How are my tits, Harrington?" she teases.

"Shut up," he grumbles. "You look good, okay? And you'll keep changing, right?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm aiming for a rack..." she forms her hands into cups in front of her chest. "...this big."

"Who'll pay for the chiropractor?" he raises his eyebrows.

"Uh, my rock star salary? Duh," she rolls her eyes.

"Mom, I am a rich man?"

"Exactly," Eddie grins at him.

On their way back, Steve pulls her into a florist's and buys a single rose.

"For the Women's Day I've missed," he explains, handing it over with a wink.

Next year, Eddie gets two bouquets: live red roses and a sunflower Lego set.

tags: @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @wheneverfeasible

#this is rushed and i was trying to make it stobin and stevie and so many things that as you can see didnt work out but its here now so #prolly the first time i wrote transfem eddie?#im not sure #stwomensday #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #transfem eddie munson #mine #gender things #cj x genderthings #transfeminine eddie munson #trans eddie munson #fem eddie munson #steddie fanfiction

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just1cefor4ll · 4 months ago

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A rare kind of love

Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader

warning. I don’t really know the reason of Dae-ho’s debt so I made something up other then that no warnings

genre. hurt comfort

Shadows stretched across the floor, where the sleeping figures of players shifted in their deep slumber, the tension in the room never ceasing, not even in their sleep. But being next to Dae-ho, keeping watch for the night as everyone else slept was something that brought you a bit of comfort even in these tough circumstances. Dae-ho sat a few feet away, his elbows on his knees, eyes quietly sweeping over the restless forms. You watched him for a moment, his calm and steady presence oddly warm in a place like this. It was strange how much trust you’d built with someone you barely knew—someone you’d met under conditions that could kill you both.

“You know,” you said finally, breaking the silence, “I used to stay up late like this back at home. Not for anything important—mostly just lying in bed, stressing over things I couldn’t fix.” You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Guess that habit didn’t really help me in the long run.”

“I could say the same thing about myself. The marines made me develop insomnia so I never really slept after i got back— but I guess I’ve gotten a bit better with the help of my sisters” He replied, giving you a soft smile which you returned with a hint of curiosity in your eyes. “You have sisters? How many?” “Four. All of them are older and I’m thankful to them for being who I am now.. though I can’t say everyone in my family is proud of how I turned out.” It was like his mask had faltered for a split second, his shoulders slumping and eyes looking like a disappointed child.

You didn’t push further, staying in comfortable silence, only the soft snores os players and shuffling of those who were having nightmares in their beds.

“Sorry uh—“ “[Name] [Last Name]” You cut him off with a smile but make a shh gesture with your pointer finger. “Don’t let the others know my name, only you and Jun-hee are the ones I trust to the fullest with this information.” You wink playfully before letting him go on— his face starstruck as you looked at him with a face no one has ever looked at him with. “Right, [Name]. How’d you end up in here? I mean you seem pretty smart to me so proper education is something you have no doubt.. so?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should even say it. But what was the point of holding back now? It wasn’t like secrets mattered in a place like this. “Debt.. a lot of it. Just like everyone here I made bad choices, bad timing… one thing snowballed into another. And then—” You paused, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “Well, here I am.” You smile sheepishly, but your once beaming energy did die down a bit. “I was a psychologist.. It payed very well but with my poor choices and actions I lost my job and I fell into the arms of gambling where I lost it all.”

He didn’t interrupt, letting you keep talking.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “I figured I’d win back just enough to cover everything. I thought, ‘What’s the harm in trying?’” You shook your head. “Turns out, the harm is a mountain of debt and a bunch of very angry people coming after you. Then my mom got sick, and the hospital bills started piling up. Insurance only covered so much, you know? So, I started taking out loans to keep up.” You leaned back against the rail, staring at the ceiling as the memories came rushing back

He didn’t say anything right away, just nodded slowly, his expression was sympathetic and no hint of judgment was evident either which you appreciated.

“I was out of options,” you continued, your voice softer now. “So when this… game showed up, I thought, ‘Why not? I’ve got nothing left to lose.’”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence. Then, Dae-ho spoke, his voice calm but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. “It’s easy to fall into, isn’t it? Debt. Mistakes. Feels like one bad move and your whole life spirals out of control.” “Yeah,” you said, glancing over at him. “Something like that. What about you? How’d you end up in the marines is my first question.. I mean why’d your sisters let their precious brother get into the hands of such a traumatic thing? Respect to you though! I wouldn’t be able to handle it any better than you so I’m very proud of you for serving the country, soldier.” You teased, looking at him with a big smile.

He hesitated, his eyes dropping to the railing, though a slight chuckle did manage to escape his lips from your silly nickname. For a moment, you thought he might brush off the question, but then he let out a soft sigh. “My dad,” he started, his voice quiet. “He wanted a ‘real man’ for a son. Someone strong, someone tough. But I wasn’t what he wanted.” You frowned. “What do you mean?” “Like I’ve mentioned before, I grew up with four older sisters,” he said, a faint, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “They were the ones who raised me, really. Taught me how to cook, how to listen, how to be patient. I guess I turned out too… soft for my dad’s taste. He’d look at me and see failure. Said I’d never make it in the real world unless I ‘toughened up.’”

You could hear the bitterness in his voice, even though he tried to hide it.

“So he sent me to the Marines,” Dae-ho continued, his gaze distant. “Said they’d make a man out of me. And I guess they did. But they also…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “They took the parts of me that my sisters had built. Replaced them with someone who could fight. Someone who could kill. And when I got out, I didn’t even know who I was anymore. The marines take your spark.. or at least dim it with all they got.”

“What happened after that?” you asked gently.

He hesitated again, his fingers curling loosely around the railing. “When I got back my sisters were more than happy to see me but they knew I was different. It was a bit awkward at first but they got through to me and got me to go to therapy for a while but bills started piling up. I tried working—construction, private security—but the flashbacks made it impossible to hold a job."

He looked down at his hands, as if trying to remember a time they weren’t shaking. "I kept borrowing money to keep my head above water, but no matter how much I tried, it was never enough. My dad called me weak for struggling. Sisters tried to help, but I couldn’t let them. Too much pride, too much of him in me, I guess."

“I came here,” he said finally, “because it felt like the only thing left. At least here, I could do something. I could try and make my father proud.” For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then you reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “You didn’t deserve any of that,” you said quietly. He looked at you, surprised, and for a moment, the guarded expression fell away. “Maybe not,” he said softly. “But it’s done now. All I can do is try to keep moving forward, survive this place and get my life together.”

You nodded, your grip on his arm tightening slightly. “We’ll figure it out. Together.” You said and squeezed his hand, laying your head on his shoulder. “We’ll get out and open up a small shop.. we can sell whatever we can think of and buy a small house on Hyepjae beach. I’ve always wanted to visit Jeju, haven’t you?” You rambled, completely forgetting the fact how you were just mere strangers a few days ago. He nodded, putting a over your shoulders, holding you close. “I’d love that.. more then anything.”

You looked up at him, and his heart nearly stopped in the process. “For the record, I don’t think you’re weak at all. You’re one of the strongest people here, and considering what you’ve been through in your past, the fact that you’re still such a kind-hearted soul is rare in a place like this. You’re one of a kind, Kang Dae-ho.” You spoke softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before standing up to switch places with Jung-bae and Gi-hun, who were just waking up so you could get some rest.

He could only stare, his cheeks flushed as a quiet chuckle escaped him. Heading toward his own bed, which was a bit farther from yours, he suddenly paused. Kneeling down beside you, he gently brushed your hair behind your ear. “You’re one of a kind too, [Name] [Last Name],” he murmured, his voice soft but full of meaning, your name rolling naturally off his tongue. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Sleep well.”

As your eyes fluttered closed, a faint smile curved your lips. “Good night, Dae-ho.”

He lingered for just a moment longer, his gaze lingering on your peaceful expression, before whispering to himself, “How could someone like you exist?” Then, with one last glance, he quietly made his way to bed, his heart still racing.

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matchpointfaist · 5 months ago

Text

tis the damn season ; art donaldson

cw; drinking, smut!!, art and reader are really kinda pathetic <3

if i wanted to know who you were hanging with

while i was gone i would have asked you

it's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass

but i felt it when i passed you

there’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me

but if it’s all the same to you, it’s the same to me

five years ago

“hey, stranger,” you can practically hear art’s smile through the phone, “how was your day?” you roll onto your back, phone clutched in your hand like a vice, “it was alright. just cramming for finals,” you sigh softly, “hows stanford?” “god, it’s incredible,” he laughs, “i wish you were here. you’d love it, baby. it’s like a movie,” you hum in response, ignoring the ache in your chest that had made its home there the day he flew out, “how’s training going? do you have any matches soon?” “oh, it’s great!” there’s that smile again, “i’ve got a match tomorrow, actually, so i should probably go soon. it’s at 7 am,”

“that’s good,” you smile to yourself, “do you feel good about it?” “yeah, i think so. coach says i’m gearing up to do really well this season,” he says proudly, and your chest aches again at the thought of missing it. “i’m sure you will,” you try to keep your voice even, “well i’ll let you get some sleep, i love you,” “love you more,” he murmurs, “goodnight, baby,”

art texts you the next morning to inform you he ‘killed’ his match, attaching a poorly taken photo of him grinning ear to ear, gold metal ribbon around his neck. it’s little crumbs like this that keep you sane, keep you feeling close to him, ever since he left. ‘knew you’d win! you’re so cute. call later?’ you reply, your cheeks pink as if you’re texting a crush rather than your boyfriend of two years. ‘course i will’ he replies, and you’re already counting down the minutes until the nighttime routine you’d grown accustomed to.

at nine oclock, you lay across your dorm bed, eyes practically glued to your phone screen as you wait on art’s nightly call. by nine thirty, you’re mildly annoyed, and by ten, you’re worried. you pick up the phone, pressing call on his contact, biting the inside of your cheek as you listen to the phone ring. he picks up after a moment, the music in the background nearly drowning out his voice, “hello?”

“hey,” you try your hardest not to let your irritation bleed into your tone, “did you forget to call?” “fuck, baby. i’m so sorry,” you hear shuffling, and the music gets slightly quieter, “patrick invited me to this party since we won this morning, it totally slipped my mind,” “it’s fine,” you tell him slightly too quickly, “just have fun, kay? i’ll talk to you tomorrow,” “wait- are you sure?” he sounds confused, and you wonder if its the alcohol or the change in your tone that’s thrown him off.

“yeah, of course,” you hope your voice sounds as light as you intend it to, “we can talk tomorrow night, it’s okay. have fun,” “okay, i guess,” he sounds so hesitant you start to think he might just leave the party, “well goodnight then. i love you,” “night. love you too,” you hang up before you can talk yourself into begging him to stay on the phone. the next night, he calls at six oclock sharp, and you can tell the entire phone call that he’s eager not to upset you.

he’d always been that way. he’d do something, just one tiny mistake, and spend days apologizing or being extra sweet to fix it. you’d lost count over the years of just how many grand gestures he’d made, of how many times he’d professed his love for you for no reason other than to get back in your good graces; not that he’d ever left.

you and art were cheesily in love, so high school in the way that you couldn’t keep your hands off of eachother, couldn’t go a day without speaking. you were practically sewn at the hip from sophomore to senior year, even applying to colleges together. when he got his offer from the stanford athletics department, you didn’t think much of it. he seemed flattered, of course, but you never thought he’d actually go.

he loved boston, he loved his family, he loved you, so it made no sense when he came over one afternoon, admission letter in hand, and a wide smile on his lips. “i accepted their offer!” he’d told you, ever so proud, “they gave me basically a full ride, as long as i stay on the team and keep my grades up. can you believe that?”

you could believe it, of course. everyone knew how wildly talented art was, from such a young age. he’d started playing tennis at his parents country club when he was just a kid, and eventually worked his way up to attending a tennis academy not far from your high school. he had promise, drive, ambition, and a naivety just subtle enough to make him an excellent candidate to be pushed too far by coaches.

you’d known, then, that things would change between you. everyone told you nothing would happen, you two were meant to be, but you could feel it. he’d be across the country, practicing incessantly, playing matches, attending parties thrown by teammates you’d never meet. and you’d be home, working for a degree that might help you make a name for yourself.

over the course of a few months after that party, the calls grew less and less frequent. by summer, you were lucky to hear from art more than once a week. you knew he was busy, of course, and tried to ignore the way bitterness coated your tongue with every word you said to him on your brief calls. you tried to ignore the way he talked about all the friends he’d made, friends that you didn’t know at all, and tried to ignore the way he barely sent you photos anymore.

the one thing getting you through was the promise of summer break with art. two short months together, to pretend everything was back to normal, that you weren’t living completely separate lives. you woke up at six am sharp the day of his flight home, eagerness keeping you from sleep, and picked up your phone to call and see when he’d be landing. he answered after four rings, his voice raspy from sleep, “hello?”

“good morning!” you replied cheerily, “when’s your flight?” “oh, hey baby,” you heard some shuffling before he returned to the phone, “uhm, i actually was just gonna call you about that,” “is everything okay?” your cheery tone slipped, dread festering in your stomach before you could even place why. “yeah, of course. i just meant to tell you, coach wants me to do some training over the summer. he thought it would be best if i stayed here, just for this first year, for some extra drills and stuff,”

you sat silently, tears pricking your eyes, as you listened to his excuse. “so what, then? you’ll be home for a month shorter, or?” “i won’t be able to make it home at all this year, honey. i’m so sorry, but you can come stay with me, yeah? i’ll buy your ticket, it’ll be just like we planned,” your heart broke even further at how optimistic he sounded, as if he hadn’t just shattered your expectations of the summer, of your reunion. “i have work, art,” you said quietly, “you know that. i have to make up for being off through the school year,”

“you don’t need that job, baby. come on, come see me,” “no, art!” you argued, your brows pinched in frustration, “i do need this job, actually. some of us don’t have trust funds, believe it or not. jesus,” your words came out sharper than you intended, all the hurt and anger from the last several months finally revealing itself. “i’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “this is really important to me. this is my shot, yknow? i can’t mess this up,”

“yeah,” your voice was bitter, but you truly did understand, “i get it. stay there, it’s for the best,” “i’ll come home next summer, okay? it won’t be like this every year,” he sounded like he was pleading with you, and it took all your control not to snap at the irony of it. “art, i think it’s best we don’t keep trying to make this work. you need to focus on your tennis and school and i need to focus on mine, and let’s just call it even, okay? we had a really good run,”

“a good run?” he repeated incredulously, “are you trying to break up with me?” “i am, yeah,” you hoped you sounded confident in your answer, “i just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to draw this out any longer than we need to,” “what the fuck? where is this coming from? is this about the summer?” he sounded so genuinely confused, so lost, and it only angered you further. “it’s just not working, art. everyone warned us long distance wasn’t a good idea,”

“baby, please,” he was practically begging, a slight whine in his voice that you knew all too well. “no, i’m sorry, okay? but it’s done,” “you can’t just-” “bye, art,” you hung up before you could talk yourself out of it, letting yourself cry as hard as you’d wanted to for months now. you curled up in bed, sobs wracking your body, and mourned the relationship with a boy you’d once thought you’d marry.

you thought he’d text or call, tried to prepare yourself to reject him again, but the contact never came. he listened, for once. art donaldson had completely slipped out of your life, without a trace.

three years later, you graduated top of your class, landed your dream job in journalism, and moved to an apartment in the city. you tried your best not to keep up with art’s achievements, but it was difficult when he won nearly ever tournament he stepped foot into. he made all the sports headlines, and you turned your head at each of them, hoping to convince yourself you never even knew him.

i parked my car right between the methodist

and the school that used to be ours

the holidays linger like a bad perfume

you can run, but only so far

i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

but if that’s okay with you, it’s okay with me

current

you returned home for the holidays, driving down from the inner city to your parents home on the outskirts of boston. about three miles out, you’re lost in thought, music playing through your speakers and snow dusting your windshield. you’re jolted when you hit a deep pothole, cursing under your breath when your tire pressure light kicks on.

you pull over into the closest parking lot, grabbing your coat and stepping out of the car to survey the damage. “fuck me,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration when you see the tire’s gone flat. you’re in the middle of trying to pry your spare out of the trunk when headlights illuminate the area around you, and you hear a car crunching over the snow.

“you alright, miss?” a man calls, his voice sharp in your ears against the quiet of the evening. “just got a flat, i’m taking care of it,” you reply, not bothering to look back over your shoulder as you yank your spare free finally. “it isn’t safe to drive on a spare in this weather,” he tells you, and the slight crack of his tone raises the hair on your arms, the familiarity seeping through you deeper than the cold breeze.

you turn, finally facing the stranger, your breath in your throat. there he stands, his blonde hair peeking out underneath the hood of his puffer coat, his cheeks tinged pink from the wind. “art?” you exhale, your heart suddenly racing in your chest, “what are you doing here?”

“oh,” he looks as startled as you feel, his blue eyes widening ever so slightly, “i was just passing by on my way to my parent’s, i saw a car and thought you’d need help,” “i’ve got it,” you say too quickly, “i’ll call my dad to pick me up, don’t worry about it. thanks, though,”

“i can take you,” he offers, gesturing to his car parked just feet away, still running, “it’s on the way, anyway. i don’t mind,” “i think i’ll just call my dad,” you argue, “you can go, okay? i got this-” “please just let me take you home,” his tone sounds like you’d be doing him a favor, not the other way around, “come on, i’ll help you get your stuff, i’ll fix your tire tomorrow,”

you never could say no to his puppy dog eyes, even after all these years. so there you sit, shivering in art’s too nice car, trying not to look at him as he drives you home like he had so many times before. “it’s good to see you,” he says finally, breaking the silence, and you hum in response, unable to muster up any real conversation.

“i moved back,” he says after a few more minutes as he turns the corner to a main road, “i don’t live here, but it’s not far. i live in the city near the university,” “congratulations,” you mumble, trying to keep your tone dismissive, anything to lessen the nostalgia you’re surely both feeling.

“hey,” he sounds as if he’s pleading, and you allow yourself one glance to his side of the car, taking in the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek, the sadness in his eyes. “yes?” “i just wanted to say it’s good to see you,” he says softly, “i mean, what’re the odds, yknow? we’re both back home and i just happened to see you. it’s like fate,”

“yeah,” you agree quietly, “fate, sure,”

so we could call it even

you could call me babe for the weekend

'tis the damn season, write this down

i'm stayin' at my parents' house

and the road not taken looks real good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown

he pulls into your parent’s drive, keeping the car running but leaning back in his seat to look over at you. “you look good,” he says after a moment, “not that you looked bad before, obviously, it’s just, you’re beautiful-” “shut up, art,” you cut off his rambling, “it was sweet of you to drive me, but thats all this was, okay? this isn’t fate. it’s just a coincidence,”

“even if it is just a coincidence, i’m still happy to see you,” he says quietly, “is that not okay? i missed you,” “shut up,” you repeat, “you didn’t miss me, that’s- this whole thing is ridiculous, okay? enjoy your holiday, art,” “wait! can’t we just talk? i mean, even if its not tonight, we could catch up,” he pleads, eyes wide and borderline frantic. you shake your head, opening your door and pausing to glance back at him, “merry christmas, art. please don’t call,” you go inside trying your best to pretend nothing happened, dodging questions about the car in the driveway and greeting your family. the look on art’s face as you closed the car door keeps you from any real christmas spirit.

you wake the next morning to a text from an unsaved number, your brows furrowed as you open the notification. ‘i know you said you don’t wanna hear from me, but i just wanted to say i’m sorry and it was really nice to see you. wanted to give you a fair warning, your parents invited my family to their christmas party tonight.’

you groan, tossing your phone on the bed and getting in the shower, ignoring the butterflies nerves, in your stomach at the idea of seeing art that night. by six that evening, you’re slightly tipsy off of spiked eggnog, trying your best to ignore him from across the room. he’s there, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes and a stupid christmas sweater that reminds you far too much of the first holiday you spent together.

you hate the way he mingles with your family so easily, like nothing ever happened. the way he laughs at your dads jokes, the way he’s sipping wine with class he must’ve learned at stanford. the way he keeps looking your way, smiling tenderly, the way he eventually approaches you with all the hesitation of a high school crush.

“you look beautiful,” is the first thing he says to you, sounding almost pained by it. “thank you,” you hope you sound cordial, hope he doesn’t pick up on the way your hands shake around your glass, the way your cheeks are already pink. you tell yourself it’s the alcohol and not the scent of the cologne he’d been wearing all those years ago, the last time you’d seen him.

he looks around, gesturing to the decorations, “good party,” “we don’t have to do this small talk shit,” you say after a moment, “it’s in the past, alright? let’s just get through the party and we’ll all go back to normal,” “don’t you see i don’t just want to get through the party? i’m trying to talk to you here, okay? i missed you, i just wanna catch up,” the pleading is back in his tone, accompanied by his trademark puppy dog eyes, and you find yourself following him onto your parent’s balcony with no hint of the hesitation you’d been full of earlier in the night.

“i saw you on tv,” he tells you after a few minutes of small talk, sipping his drink and glancing at you, the wind rustling his too perfect hair. “yeah?” you smile ever so slightly, “what for?” “it was a news station, i saw it at the airport. you were reporting on the protests in new york,” he smiles back, and your chest aches at the sight. “i’m not usually on tv, i just write the stories, but it was cool. glad to know it’s getting good airport coverage,” you joke, “i’ve seen you on tv a few times myself. wimbledon and all,”

“yeah?” his smile widens, “and what’d you think?” you pause, and you’re not sure if its the eggnog, the nostalgia, or his vulnerable expression, but you find yourself being honest. “i thought you were incredible,” you say softly, “the way you play is just amazing, art. always has been,” “thank you,” you choose to ignore the crack in his voice, “you have no idea how much that means, to hear you say that. that you still even think that,”

“congratulations,” you smile around the rim of your glass, “you’ve won every competition i’ve even heard of. that’s a big deal,” “none of that matters,” he waves a dismissive hand, “i don’t wanna talk about tennis. i wanna hear about you,” “my life is pretty boring,” you shrug, “i write columns and go home and think about work. that’s really all,” “you’re not- are you seeing someone? i figured you’d be married or something,”

“no,” you laugh like its ridiculous, because truthfully, it is. you’d loved him so much that it made the idea of trying to love someone else seem pointless. in the back of your mind, you’d always thought you needed to let it go, to move on, but you never found the time or the willpower. forgetting him and learning someone else was a move you were never prepared to make. “me neither,” his voice snaps you from your thoughts, “not since-”

“i’m sorry i broke up with you,” you blurt out, “it was shitty of me to do it over the phone like that, and i’m sorry,” “oh,” he blinks, looking slightly caught off guard, “no, i mean, it was my fault. i get it, looking back. i’m sorry i didn’t fight harder,” “you were a really good boyfriend,” you say quietly, blinking away hot tears, “like, the perfect boyfriend. it was just too much, being away from you, and i felt like it was just a matter of time before it ended anyway,”

“i never planned on leaving you,” he says softly, “i hope you know that. i loved you more than anything in the world, and i know we were just kids, but i really, really fucking loved you. more than tennis, more than stanford, more than any of that shit. i didn’t care about my future if you weren’t in it, but then you removed yourself from it and i figured i could at least just keep going,”

“i know,” you nod, because you genuinely do know. you know he loved you, how much he cared about your relationship. a moment passes, and you can feel his eyes on you, your heart picking up and a fresh flush prickling your skin. “you are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and before you can think better of your decision, you’ve set your drink down and turned to him, all your logic gone out the window.

“this is a bad idea,” you tell him, but you’ve already taken a step closer, “and i’m only in town for a bit,” another step, “but i missed you so fucking much, art,” “come show me how much you missed me,” he smiles, his eyes almost as dark as the sky around you, “let’s make up for lost time, yeah?”

you kiss him in an instant, and everything else seems to fall away as you feel his lips on yours for the first time in years. he tastes like sparkling wine and chapstick and everything you love about the holidays, about home. he kisses you with the same desperation he’d always had back then, his hands digging into your hips and pulling you flush against him.

the reality of the evening starts to sink back in as hands progress lower, and you pull away, panting softly against his lips, “cant fuck you in my parents house,” “aw, come on, it’ll be just like old times,” he murmurs teasingly, trailing his lips down your neck. “art,” you whine, “we can’t,” “they’re all busy with the party,” he murmurs as he nips below your ear gently, “do you want me to stop?” “no,” you answer easily, “let’s just- can we go to my room? someone’s gonna see us out here,”

you end up in your old bedroom, sprawled out on the comforter kissing art with a feverish desperation. “missed you so fucking much,” he groans as you unbutton his pants, slipping your hand into his boxers, “god, thought about you all the time,” “yeah?” you smile against his lips, “thought about me all the way in california?” “fuck- yeah, i did,” he bucks his hips into your hand, his cheeks pink, “everyday, every night,”

you hum, satisfied, trailing your kisses down his chest and sliding down the bed, “where you going?” he asks, his brows furrowed. “you don’t want my mouth?” you ask, gazing up at him as you push his boxers down, “no,” he smiles hazily, “no, baby. missed you too much for that, just c’mere. let me fuck you,”

you nearly cry at that, the warmth flooding your chest at his words despite the overall nature of what the two of you are doing. you kiss him again, leaned over him, and he pulls you up into his lap, scooting up to prop himself up against the headboard.

“come here,” he mumbles between kisses, positioning your legs to straddle him, “do you wanna do this?” “‘course i wanna do this,” you nod, and he pushes the skirt over your dress up around your hips, running his thumb over the skin, “you’re so beautiful,”

“stop lookin at me like that,” you mumble, feeling entirely too entranced by the expression on his face, “kiss me,” he’s nothing if not obedient, his lips on yours immediately, kissing you with fervor. you reach between the two of you, sitting up briefly to toss your underwear somewhere, wrapping your hand around him once more to line him up. “god,” he groans softly, tipping his head back as you slide down on his cock, your eyes closed in bliss, “fuck, you’re so wet, god,”

you bury your face in his neck, trying your best to be quiet as you adjust to his size, rocking your hips slowly, “art,” you moan breathlessly, and before you know it he’s cradling your head, pulling you in closer and fucking up into you. you bite down on his shoulder gently, hoping to suppress the noises leaving you, “god, not gonna last,” he all but whimpers, “you feel so fucking good,”

you just moan in response as he hits all the right spots, your thighs shaking slightly as he fucks you, “fuck, baby- oh my fucking god,” he groans, pulling you off of him gently, “didn’t wanna finish inside you,” he pants, eyes closed as he steadies his breathing, “let me,” you say softly, taking him in your mouth, moaning around him at the taste of yourself on his skin.

“oh, fuck me,” he moans, hands tightening in your hair and bucking his hips slightly. he’s filling your mouth soon after, your name falling from his lips like a curse as he cums down your throat, panting and whining hoarsely. you wipe your mouth, sitting up to kiss him again, surprised when he pulls you up closer. “sit on my face,” he mumbles against your lips, “let me make you cum, please,”

“i’m okay,” you start to argue, but he’s shaking his head, looking at you with the sweetest expression, “just let me make you feel good,” you let him lead you, as he lays back on the bed and pulls you up onto him, your thighs on either side of his head.

he laps at you desperately, and you have to clutch the headboard to keep from collapsing against him as you rock your hips, borderline grinding against his mouth. “art,” you moan, one hand on the headboard and one in his hair, “fuck, you’re so good,”

this only encourages him, and he slides a hand under you, pushing gently on your hips to make you rock against his face once more. you whimper at that, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as you feel yourself getting closer. “art,” you gasp, “gonna-“

your vision is spotty as you come undone, his needy mouth never slowing as he works you through it, sucking at your clit until your legs nearly give out. “too much,” you whine, pulling at his hair to deter him. he hums against you, licking one last, slow stripe against you before helping you down, looking up at you with dilated pupils and a spit-slick mouth.

you wipe his face gently with your duvet, smiling slightly down at him, “that was-“ “you were so good,” he praises, “can’t believe how much i missed that,” he pulls the blanket over your legs, and your chest aches at the tenderness of the action. “you shouldn’t stay,” you say softly, hoping it doesn’t come across as hurtful, “i don’t want my parents to see, yknow,”

“yeah,” he nods, but he looks slightly hurt, like he’s taken aback, “yeah, good point. i’ll call you?” “yes, please,” you nod, watching as he pulls his clothes back on, “i’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?” “yeah,” he nods, fastening his belt, “uh, goodnight, then,” “night, art,” you smile sleepily, and he lets himself out without returning a smile of his own.

time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

now i’m missing your smile, hear me out

we could just ride around

and the road not taken looks really good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown

the next day, you send him a quick text, slightly worried he’d thought you’d just dismissed him. ‘wanna get coffee today? i leave tomorrow’

‘sure’ he replies, and you’re sure then that he’s hurt, but you hope to rectify it, ‘great! starbucks on third at eleven?’ ‘okay. see you there’ he sends back, and you pull on a sweater and leggings, going to spend some time with your parents before heading out to the coffee shop.

he’s sitting in a window seat when you arrive, much more casual than he had been the night before. he’s in a stanford hoodie and joggers, and you think of him away at college, how at home he’d probably been there. you shake the thought away, walking over to his table, “hey,” you smile, sliding into the booth across him. “hey,” he smiles slightly, “so you leave tomorrow?”

“oh, yeah,” you nod, “gotta get back to work. how long are you in town for?” “told you i moved back,” he says, looking slightly irritated, and you feel a pang of guilt, “yeah, sorry, it completely slipped my mind. so you’re just-“ “what is this, exactly?” he cuts you off, brows furrowed, “i mean, im glad last night happened, but is that just it? you’re gonna shoo me away and go home like nothing happened?”

“what?” you falter, caught off guard, “art, no, i just have to go back home, it’s not like i’m discarding you,” “you sure are acting like it,” he grumbles, “what, then? are we gonna try and make this work?” “make this work?” you repeat, “what, exactly? i figured it was just because we’re both back home, i don’t-“ “what? so what, then, just a one time thing? that’s kinda fucked up to not tell someone,” he snaps, and you hate yourself in the moment, all the memories of the way you’d been so short when you’d broken up with him resurfacing.

“maybe it’s better if it’s just for the weekend,” you say quietly, “i mean, we’re both busy, and this was just by chance,” “bullshit,” he shakes his head, “if you don’t wanna be with me, that’s fine. alright? genuinely, no hard feelings. but don’t give me that ‘we’re both busy shit. what’s the real reason you won’t try again?”

“we both are busy,” you say defensively, “i just don’t- i’d hate for either of us to get hurt again, that’s all,” “i get it, i do, but we’ll never know if we don’t try,” he says softly, “i never wanted to hurt you before, okay? i’ve pictured so many routes for my life and you were always in them,” “we’re different people now, art,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone even, “you don’t know if we’re still even compatible, and we never know what could happen,” “will you stop doing that? you don’t have to be so calculated about everything. it’s not gonna kill us to try, right? we’ve changed, sure, and we’re at different places in life, but we’re the same people. we’re still the people we were when we were in love,”

“that was a long time ago,” you say quietly, tears pricking your eyes, “i just don’t wanna make a mistake and get us both hurt,” “i’m fine with being hurt by you. don’t you see that? i have loved you since we were sixteen years old. we can get to know each other again, we can take it slow, i’m not asking you to marry me here. just give it a chance, please?” the sincerity in his tone breaks you, and you’re nodding before you can talk yourself out of it. “yeah,” you sniffle, “yeah, i’d like that so much. i’m sorry, i’m just scared, and i didn’t think we’d ever get another chance,” you ramble. “i know you’re scared,” he says softly, taking your hand in his over the table, “we’re gonna take it slow, alright? we’ll be alright,” “yeah,” you nod, tracing his knuckles with your thumb, “we’ll be alright,”

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kiestrokes · 6 months ago

Text

Day 2: Frostbite | NSFW

▸ Idol: Choi San of ATEEZ ▸ Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. ▸ Genre: a hard hour ▸ Vibe: you're supposed to be enjoying the slopes right now, but you forgot to get gas...got lost and stranded thirty minutes from your own private cabin, hoping someone can find you, your best friend has your location and checks it hourly like their own personal SIMS. Someone finds you, it's just the annoyingly talented and frustratingly attractive best friend of you brother, instead of yours. ▸ Warnings: language, references to being stranded in a snowstorm, lighthearted, none of this is serious.

Sexually Explicit Content: nude cuddling, kissing, fingering, slight nipple stim if you squint, intercourse (penis in vagina), raw sex (sorry I am tired, didn't feel like writing in a condom), orgasms for both.

🗝️ Note: this IS a hard hour but it kind of got away from me? but is not a wip or complete drabble because I don't have the time 🙃 no beta by me or anyone else. Good luck!

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

「 25 Hours: Hard, Soft and WIP-mas Masterlist 」

You had been stranded in the snow, on an empty tank, for a little over an hour when your brother's best friend, San found you. Sleepy and freezing as he tucks you into his jeep. He carries you inside, your limbs useless at the moment.

You consent to him stripping the two of you to almost nothing. Quickly bundling your bodies together in the thickest faux fur blanket, right up against the blazing fire.

The cabin itself so warm that your skin felt like it was burning as your body began to thaw. Drifting in and out of sleep. San's calloused hands rubbing a tingling path across your skin. Your thighs shuffle closer hips rocking softly at the conflicting sensations.

Your icy fingers find San's chest and he gasps as the pad of your finger circles his nipple. Burying your face in his neck. Causing goosebumps to erupt over his skin as your cold nose hits a sensitive spot.

“I’m sorry please just ignore it.”

“Ignore what?”

You nuzzle harder into his throat, hearing his heartbeat pick up. He shifts and you feel what you’re supposed to be ignoring press into the top of your thigh.

“San?”

He squeezes you, “it’s ok it will go down in a second.”

You pull back to meet his gaze.

“My hands would make it go down faster.”

His eyebrows raise in amusement, “yes they would.”

He brings your fists up to his mouth blowing hot air into them. You stretch into him, pelvis pressing into his.

“I would warm up a little faster if we…”

San freezes lips brushing your knuckles.

“We hav-we don’t- really?”

You nod at his adorable, confused face.

“We could kiss first a see how that goes?"

You offer and San ducks his head, so your arms are wrapped around his neck. Delicately rolling you onto your back, heat from the fire washing over your left side.

“San-ah,” you breathe just before he kisses you.

One hand holding the back of your head and the other stroking down your bare side. You whimper into the kiss, rolling your hips into his growing hardness, two pairs thin of clothing preventing what you need.

“I want more, do you want more,” San murmurs between kisses.

“Yes!” You gasp.

He wastes no time, fingers slipping into the side of your panties to open you up. Your hips bucking steadily into his motions.

“Ah you are actually warming up.”

San smiles in relief, you nod urgently head kicking back suddenly when he rubs against the one spot inside you. Fingers twisting into his hair eliciting a moan from him.

“San-ah...”

“Want you to come first,” he says raggedly watching you fall apart underneath him.

Your hips rubbing urgently into his restrained cock.

“Ah yes right there, please,” you whine.

San groans as your hips fall out of rhythm your body shuddering as you start to come.

“Now San!”

“Now?”

You nod in exasperation, hands reaching to pull him out. He lets you take him, hips backing off yours to give you some space. San groans when you rub him next to his still pumping fingers to lubricate his erection.

You gasp when he pulls his fingers out, hips rocking against nothing. Until he thrusts in, your spine arches and hips roll, taking him in deeper.

“Oh fuck,” San groans, bracing both hands beside your hips as your walls suck him in.

“San, I need you.”

“Ok, ok.”

San rolls his hips up in one sharp, delirious motion and you cry out as you pussy tightens around him.

“Fuck,” San groans.

His forehead pressing into your collarbone, hot breath fanning over your dampening skin. Both of your hips chasing each other, until they stutter as you fall apart together.

San groans, not a pleasured one. You trace the muscles on his back.

"What is it?"

"Your brother is going to kill me."

You erupt into laughter that quickly turns into a startled choke when you realize how well you can still feel San buried deep inside you.

He lifts his head to check on you, and you cup his cheek.

"We are both adults, and I think he will just be happy to know you found me before I froze to death."

#hard hours #choi san x reader #choi san smut #choi san x y/n #choi san x you #choi san hard hours #choi san hard thoughts #san x reader #san x y/n #san x you #i don’t understand but i luv q #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #atz x reader #atz smut #atz fanfic #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #wipmas

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elliesngirl · 5 months ago

Text

Assigned To You

Nerd! Loser! Ellie Williams x Fem! Popular! Reader

WC: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst, D slur, y/n being a dick

Part 4: Prev/Next

Let me know it you wanna be in the taglist!

---

You woke up with your head pounding, the dull ache making you groan as you buried your face in your pillows. It took a moment before your surroundings clicked. Your room? Not Olivia’s? What the hell?

Sitting up, you squinted at the sunlight pouring in through your massive windows, rubbing your temples. You looked down at yourself. Pyjamas? Pink tracksuit pants and a massive white t-shirt. “Okay...what is this?” you mumbled, scowling at the fabric.

Flashes of last night flickered in your mind, but nothing connected. You couldn’t remember anything after the ice cream shop, and that annoyed you to no end.

Grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you quickly opened Instagram to check your messages. Your friends had spammed you—missed calls from Olivia, Sara, Nat, and Alex flooded your notifications. Rolling your eyes, you called Olivia back, holding the phone between your cheek and shoulder while brushing your hair with your free hand.

“Finally,” Olivia answered. “Are you okay? We were freaking out! We almost called the cops.”

“Why would you call the cops? I’m fine.” You frowned. “But, uh, question: why the hell am I in my own bed right now? What happened last night?”

“Oh my god, you don’t remember?” Olivia exclaimed, and you could hear Sara giggling in the background. “So, like, we left you at the ice cream shop after you went to the bathroom—totally my bad, by the way, we thought you were in the car! But when we came back, you were gone. There was, like, this sketchy truck leaving the parking lot—”

“Wait,” you interrupted, your tone sharp. “You left me?”

“I said it was my fault!” Olivia whined. “But, like, you made it home, so everything’s chill, right?”

You groaned and hung up before she could keep talking. No use wasting your energy on her. Instead, you opened your messages, scrolling for any clues. That’s when you saw it—a thread with Ellie.

Your eyes widened. Ellie? Why on earth would you have messaged her?

You tapped the conversation, skimming through it quickly.

NotYourFriend: Can you call? Ellie_TheDino: Hey, I just got home! Sorry about what your friends did last night, but I was happy to help. Let me know when you wake up! I’ll be there at 10:30.

You stared at the text. What does she mean, “happy to help”?!

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door. Glancing at the time, you groaned—10:30 exactly. She was punctual, of course. You rolled out of bed, not bothering to change, and took the elevator downstairs to the foyer.

When you opened the door, there she was: Ellie, standing awkwardly on your doorstep in her usual flannel shirt, jeans, and those ratty black Converse. Her hair was tied back into a low ponytail, and she was holding a small, beat-up notebook.

“Uh, hi,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I, uh, didn’t want to, like, interrupt your morning or anything...”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “You’re early. I didn’t even have time to change.”

“Oh! I—I’m sorry!” Ellie stammered, her face turning pink. “I can, uh, come back later if—”

“I’m kidding, loser,” you said with a smirk, stepping aside. “Come in.”

Ellie shuffled inside, clutching her notebook like it was a lifeline. “Oh, uh, thanks. Your house is, uh...really big. Like, huge. Is this, um, all yours?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, Ellie. I just borrow a mansion when my parents are out of town.” You started walking upstairs, not waiting for her to follow. “C’mon, we’ll work in my room.”

Ellie trailed behind you like a lost puppy, her sneakers squeaking slightly against the marble floor. When you got to your room, you dropped onto the plush carpet and grabbed your laptop, looking up at her as she hovered awkwardly near the door.

“Are you gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna sit down?”

“Oh! Right, yeah,” Ellie muttered, sitting cross-legged on the carpet, her knees nearly bumping yours. She pulled out her notebook, flipping to a page filled with tiny, neat handwriting. “So, uh, what topic were you thinking about? For the project, I mean.”

“Pompeii,” you said curtly, opening a new document on your laptop.

“Oh, cool! That’s, uh, super fascinating. Did you know that the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD preserved, like, an entire snapshot of Roman life? The ash was, uh, like, this natural time capsule.”

You stared at her, unimpressed. “Yeah, Ellie. That’s kinda why I picked it.”

“Right, right,” she said quickly, her face flushing. “Good choice. Great choice, actually. I mean, Pompeii’s got, like, everything—art, architecture, uh, culture—”

“Ellie,” you interrupted. “I don’t need a history lesson, okay? Just write whatever nerdy stuff you want, and I’ll make it sound good later.”

Ellie’s mouth opened like she wanted to say something, but she just nodded and scribbled in her notebook. You leaned back against your bed frame, watching her fidget with her pen.

She was so awkward—rambling and tripping over her words like you were some kind of celebrity. You couldn’t help but smirk.

“Ellie,” you said suddenly, making her look up. “How did you even get in the gate this morning?”

Her eyes widened. “Uh, you—you gave me the code last night. Remember?”

You frowned. “I definitely didn’t.”

Ellie’s cheeks turned bright red, and she looked down at her notebook. “Oh, um, you must’ve been, uh, half-asleep or something. I think you mumbled it, maybe.”

You stared at her, suspicious, but decided to let it go. For now.

“Whatever,” you said, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “Let’s just get this stupid project done.”

Ellie nodded furiously, her pen scratching against the paper as she took notes.

You smirked again. She was so easy to mess with.

A few weeks had passed since that morning you woke up with no memory of what happened, and Ellie had been coming over more than you expected. The Pompeii project was more involved than you’d thought, and despite her dorky exterior, Ellie was probably the smartest person you knew. She showed up to every session with her battered notebook filled with way too many notes and ideas. Honestly, she was doing most of the heavy lifting, but you weren’t about to complain. All you had to do was rephrase her nerdy ramblings into something that sounded halfway cool, which, let’s be real, wasn’t hard for someone like you.

The dynamic between the two of you had shifted, though. At first, it was strictly business—she’d nervously sit on your floor, scribbling in her notebook while you typed away on your laptop, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic comment to make her squirm. But somewhere along the line, things got... casual. Like the time she brought over snacks, for example. You’d initially scoff at the sight of cheap chocolate bars and a bag of chips, but when she handed you a candy bar with a sheepish smile, you just took it without a word.

“Don’t get crumbs on my floor,” you’d muttered, taking a bite. She’d nodded furiously, like she was terrified of breaking some unspoken rule. It was funny, but also kind of cute in a pathetic way.

Then there was the time she got distracted by one of the paintings in your hallway. It was this massive abstract piece your parents had picked up on one of their trips to Italy. You’d caught her staring at it as you walked by, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Something on your mind, Einstein?” you’d asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Oh, uh, no! It’s just… this painting. The texture is, uh, really interesting. Looks like they used a palette knife for the layering, right?”

You’d blinked at her, momentarily caught off guard. “Yeah, I guess. My mom bought it a couple of years ago. She’s into that artsy stuff.”

Ellie had nodded, her eyes still glued to the painting. You’d shrugged it off and moved on, but later that night, you found yourself Googling “palette knife painting” out of curiosity. Not that you’d ever admit that to her.

The real turning point, though, came when she showed up with ice cream. It was a Friday afternoon, and you’d been in a horrible mood all day. Your parents were being their usual overbearing selves, your friends were being flaky, and on top of that, the project deadline was looming. You were ready to snap at the first person who looked at you the wrong way.

And then Ellie showed up at your door, holding two cones from your favorite ice cream shop.

“You, uh, mentioned you like the mint chocolate chip,” she’d said, her voice hesitant as she extended the cone toward you. “So I thought…”

You’d raised an eyebrow, taking the cone and inspecting it like it was some kind of peace offering. “You thought bribing me with ice cream would make me stop calling you a nerd?”

“Maybe,” she’d said with a small smile, her ears turning pink.

You’d rolled your eyes but taken a bite. “It’s a start.”

After that, things were… different. You started to look forward to your study sessions, though you’d never admit it out loud. Ellie’s dorky enthusiasm for literally everything was oddly refreshing. She could ramble on about ancient Roman plumbing systems or volcanic ash for hours, and while you pretended to be annoyed, you secretly found it kind of interesting. Not that you’d ever tell her that, of course.

One night, after she’d left, you found yourself scrolling through Instagram and stopped on a picture of the two of you from one of the project sessions. Your friends had insisted on taking it, probably to make fun of you later, but as you stared at it, you realized something. Ellie wasn’t just some random nerd you were stuck working with. She was… well, she was Ellie. Awkward, shy, and way too nice for her own good. But she was also smart and funny in her own weird way. And you didn’t hate having her around.

That realization hit you like a ton of bricks the week before your 18th birthday. Your parents were planning this massive party, complete with a guest list full of people you barely liked, let alone cared about. Normally, you’d just grin and bear it, but this year, something felt different. Maybe it was all the time you’d been spending with Ellie, or maybe you were just tired of the same old routine, but you found yourself texting her out of the blue.

“Hey, you free next Friday night?” you’d typed, your thumb hovering over the send button for a moment before you hit it.

Her response came almost immediately. “Uh… yeah? Why?”

You smirked at your screen. “My parents are throwing this dumb party for my birthday. You should come.”

There was a long pause before her reply. “Wait, seriously? Do you want me there?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you’d written back. “Just show up.”

That night after Ellie left you were on a call with Olivia, telling her what happened and that you invited Ellie. “What the hell? Why would you invite that loser?” Olivia said, groaning.

“To make fun of her obviously” You lied, you didn’t want to tell her the real reason, you didn’t want anyone to know that you enjoyed her company.

“Oh I see I see, let’s plan what we can do.”

You spent the next hour talking to Olivia, she was saying all pranks to do to Ellie while you were just saying “mhm” not wanting to get involved.

The morning of the party, she showed up at your house early, probably thinking it was another study session. You were lounging on your bed, scrolling through your phone, when she knocked softly on your doorframe.

“You’re early,” you said, not bothering to look up.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I thought—”

“Relax, loser. You’re helping me pick an outfit for tonight.”

Her jaw practically hit the floor. “Wait, what?”

You smirked, tossing a pair of shoes at her. “You heard me. Now, c’mon. You’ve got opinions, right?”

Ellie just stood there, holding the shoes like they might explode. You laughed, shaking your head. This was going to be fun.

You took out six dresses from your walk in wardrobe, the first option was a tight cherry red dress. You tried it on and walked out, Ellies jaw was on the floor. You couldn’t help but smirk at Ellie’s reaction to the red dress. Her eyes darted away the second you caught her staring, her cheeks flushing crimson.

“Well?” you prompted, striking a dramatic pose in front of the mirror. “What do we think? Too much?”

Ellie fidgeted, clearing her throat. “Uh… no. I mean, it’s nice. Really nice. But, uh… maybe it’s a little… formal?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Formal? It’s a party, Ellie. Aren’t I supposed to look formal?”

She glanced down at her notebook like it would somehow save her from this conversation. “I guess… but you always look good, so maybe something, uh, less… intimidating?”

That caught you off guard. For a second, you thought she might’ve been complimenting you, but the way she avoided your gaze made you question it. “Less intimidating, huh?” you said, stepping back into your wardrobe.

The next option was a silky emerald-green dress with a plunging neckline. As you stepped out, Ellie’s ears turned pink again. She coughed, her eyes locked firmly on the floor. “Uh, yeah, that’s… wow.”

“Wow, huh?” You twirled in the mirror, watching her reflection. She was trying so hard not to look, which only made you want to tease her more. “Is that a good wow or a bad wow?”

Ellie stammered, “Good! Definitely good. But, uh, maybe… still a bit much? Like, for your friends, I mean. Not for you. You look amazing. I just—”

You cut her off with a laugh. “Relax, Ellie. I’m not going to bite your head off.” Turning back to the mirror, you frowned slightly. As much as you enjoyed flustering her, you didn’t love how the dress felt on you. “Alright, next one.”

By the time you got to the fourth dress—a black, off-the-shoulder number that was simple but undeniably flattering—Ellie seemed more composed. Her gaze lingered a bit longer this time, and she even managed a small smile.

“That one,” she said firmly. “It’s, uh, perfect. You look… really good.”

For some reason, her tone made your chest tighten. You tilted your head, studying her. “You really think so?”

Ellie nodded, her usual awkwardness momentarily gone. “Yeah. It’s classy. And, uh, it suits you.”

You held her gaze for a moment longer than you meant to before snapping out of it. “Alright, black it is,” you said, brushing past her to change. “Good call, Einstein.”

The party that night was exactly what you expected—over the top, loud, and full of people who were more interested in posting about it than actually enjoying it. You floated from group to group, playing the perfect hostess, but your mind kept wandering. Where was Ellie?

When you finally spotted her near the snack table, she looked completely out of place in her flannel and jeans, nervously sipping from a cup. Olivia and a couple of your other friends were standing nearby, giggling and whispering, clearly up to something.

You felt a pang of guilt. You knew Olivia’s plan was to mess with Ellie, and while you’d laughed it off at the time, the idea didn’t sit right with you now. Before you could think twice, you crossed the room and slid an arm around Ellie’s shoulders.

“Having fun, loser?” you asked, your tone light but your grip protective.

Ellie blinked, surprised by the sudden contact. “Uh, yeah. I mean, it’s… loud. But it’s nice.”

You caught Olivia’s eye across the room, her smirk faltering as she realized you weren’t playing along. You turned back to Ellie, steering her toward the quieter balcony.

“C’mon,” you said. “Let’s get some air.”

The cool night breeze was a welcome relief from the chaos inside. Ellie leaned against the railing, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her cup. You leaned beside her, staring out at the city lights.

Ellie reached back from her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, your eyes widened, “I didn’t know you smoked.” You said, Ellie chuckled, “Not many people do, you want one?” Ellie asks, you shake your head. “Nah.” You say, “Suit yourself!” Ellie says, putting the lit cigarette in her mouth.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, you slowly shuffled closer, feeling free without the loud music and without Olivia nagging in your ear. You put your head on her shoulder which makes her tense up and a light shade of pink grows on her cheeks. She didn’t know what to do so she just put her hand around your waist.

Which made you look at her. “S-sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Ellie exclaims, making you giggle, “Ellie! Calm down, I don’t mind it.” You said, which made Ellie calm down.

You started at each other in the eyes for a little while, looking at each others lips from time to time, Ellie’s hands fall back to your waist and the both of you start to lean in, you could feels ellies breath on yours, your lips were about to touch, but then you heard the door open.

You pushed her away and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Olivia standing there with shock on her face, you thought quickly, pushing Ellie again and yelling, “Ew! Get off of me you freak!” You exclaimed, Olivia’s eyes widened and Ellie became speechless.

Oliva stood next to you, “Get out you creep!” She yelled, “You don’t go kissing drunk girls just because you're a lesbian! Don’t you understand that? Y/n will never like you! She isn’t a dyke and even if she was, you’re way to ugly for her!.”

Ellie couldn’t say anything, she just started crying, feeling humiliated and hurt, she just looked at you, hoping you would deny everything Olivia just said, but you just stood there in silence.

Ellie’s tears streamed silently down her face as she stood there, frozen, her cigarette forgotten, smoldering on the edge of the balcony railing. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, to say something, but no words came out. Her green eyes locked onto yours, wide and filled with a mixture of betrayal and devastation.

"Ellie, get the hell out of here!" Olivia shouted again, stepping closer as if she was ready to push Ellie off the balcony herself.

Ellie flinched but didn’t move. Her gaze stayed on you, pleading, searching your expression for any sign of disagreement, for anything to contradict Olivia’s cruel words. But you just stood there, frozen, the weight of Olivia’s judgment like a vice gripping your chest.

“Y/n…” Ellie whispered, her voice cracking.

You opened your mouth, but no words came. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, and your mind was spinning. You wanted to scream at Olivia, tell her to shut up, to defend Ellie against every hateful thing she’d just said—but the words wouldn’t come. You felt paralyzed, trapped between the person you were expected to be and the person you were slowly realizing you might want to become.

Ellie let out a bitter laugh, though it was shaky and full of pain. She wiped her tears hastily with the back of her hand, her shoulders stiffening as she tried to mask how much she was breaking inside.

“You know what?” she said, her voice gaining a sharp edge as she turned to Olivia. “You don’t have to tell me twice. I get it. I’ll go.” Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she shot you one last look, her expression a mix of heartbreak and anger. “Thanks for nothing, Y/n.”

With that, she stormed past Olivia, brushing her shoulder harshly as she disappeared through the balcony door.

Olivia snorted, rolling her eyes. “Good riddance. I don’t even know why you invited her in the first place. She’s such a loser.”

You stayed silent, your stomach churning as you stared at the balcony door Ellie had just walked through. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to go after her, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

“What’s your deal?” Olivia asked, nudging your shoulder. “Are you seriously upset? I just saved you from getting your life ruined by that creep. You’re welcome.”

You turned to look at Olivia, her smug grin only making the pit in your stomach deeper. You wanted to tell her off, to scream at her for what she’d said to Ellie, but instead, you forced out a weak laugh.

“Yeah… thanks,” you muttered, your voice hollow.

Olivia didn’t seem to notice how fake your words were. She just grinned and threw her arm around your shoulders. “Let’s go back inside. Everyone’s asking for you. You’re the birthday girl, after all!”

She dragged you back into the house, the pounding music and the loud chatter of your so-called friends swallowing you whole. But your mind was far away, stuck on Ellie’s tear-streaked face and the way her voice had cracked when she said your name.

Later that night, after the party had wound down and your house was empty again, you sat alone in your room, staring at the wall. The red dress you’d been so proud of earlier now felt suffocating, and your makeup felt like a mask you couldn’t wait to tear off.

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table, and you reached for it, hoping it was Ellie, hoping she’d text you even though you knew deep down that she wouldn’t.

Instead, it was Olivia.

Olivia: You’re welcome for saving your ass tonight. She’s lucky I didn’t call security on her. Anyway, sleep tight, babe! See you tomorrow xoxo.

You clenched your jaw and turned your phone face-down, disgusted with yourself. You couldn’t sleep. The guilt was too heavy, the memory of Ellie’s broken expression replaying in your mind like a haunting melody.

Taglist: Hopefully I got everyone!@vahnilla @radioheadfan699 @defnoteleonor @robinphobia @liztreez @deathbydollz @hemmo01 @soodle-noup @reneesub @ellensmithxo@lamorenita @kissedberries @liasxeatt

Guys lemme know what the reader should do to gain Ellie's trust back.

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yuri-is-online · 2 years ago

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Without Saying (Floyd and Ruggie x Yuu)

"Oh can I help you? You seem to be lost." You attempt to cheerfully ask the vaguely familiar looking person in front of you. As if he is deliberately trying to rub salt in your wounds, Crowley ignored your request to leave campus for NRC parents day and is instead making you and Grim run errands. The person in front of you, blissfully ignorant to your inner turmoil perks up at your attention.

"Forgive me for asking, but are you the magicless prefect?" You and Grim exchange a confused glance. "You've got to be right?" They're practically glowing with how happy they are to see you. " Oh I'm sorry, I've just heard so much about you!" Wait, what?

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, feral ariel (Floyd) vs light angst again (Ruggie). If you liked this please check out the previous parts on my masterlist.

Floyd

Under normal circumstances, a quiet Floyd was a suspicious Floyd but today- well today it was just odd. He doesn't look bored per se, just idle standing next to a very tall woman with similarly colored hair who is slowly, carefully, with extreme focus examining every inch of what you think is a novelty piggy bank shaped like the school's wishing well.

"Are you done yet Mamma?" Floyd sounds like he is being careful not to yawn.

"Hush now Floydie," she doesn't even blink, that's how tight her focus is, "Mamma is concentrating." Mrs. Leech's lips are tightly pursed while Floyd mutters something about going to get some candy and slinks off while you question if getting involved in this conversation is part of your job description or even smart. Unfortunately for you by the time you look back up from your clipboard Mrs. Leech has moved directly in front of your face in complete silence. "Human-" you go to scream but she silences you with a look you can't tell is from magic or practice raising the twins "Human can you help me with something?" She doesn't even wait for you to agree before holding up the piggy bank. "What exactly is the purpose of this object?"

"That?" You are surprised your voice doesn't give out entirely as she vigorously nods. "The piggy bank?"

"I see, I see." She nods sagely, immediately whipping around to where she evidently thought her son still was, shrugging undeterred as she decides to simply yell. "FLOYD! IT'S CALLED A PIGGY BANK."

"That's nice Mamma." Calls Floyd, oddly coming off as polite and rational from somewhere deep within the Mystery Shop. " But like what does it do?"

"EXCELLENT QUESTION! Say human what does it do?" You are deeply tempted to say that this woman cannot be serious but you don't really want to find out. You draw yourself up to your full height and nod.

"You put coins in it." Mrs. Leech blinks, a bit taken aback.

"Wait really?" Bravely, with a reasonable fear of being bitten, you reach over and gently lift up the top of the wishing well to show her the coin slot.

"I'm pretty sure this one plays a song when you put a coin in too." You explain.

"But it's so tiny?" She marvels, repeatedly opening and shutting the top of the bank. "How're you supposed to keep your money safe if it's so fragile? But then again I do keep most of mine with my husband..."

"Uhm it's supposed to be a fun gift for little kids." It occurs to you that she might find that offensive since it did look like she was buying it for herself. "To teach them about saving money, at least where I'm from anyway."

"Oh how cute. That settles it, I am definitely getting this." As if sensing that it is check out time Floyd shuffles over and immediately perks up.

"Little Shrimpy! Were you the one helping my mom?" He seems really happy, causing you to breathe a light sigh of relief. Mrs. Leech looks confused, zeroing in on you with the same concentration from earlier.

"Yeah. Trying to anyway." You nervously say; Mrs. Leech's attention turns to her son.

"Aww, how cute. You fishin' for a favor shrimpy?" Normally you would play along with his teasing, but your eyes dart awkwardly to Mrs. Leech whose attention is back on you, then the piggy bank, then you then her son, then you agai-

"Not really, I'm just trying to do my job." You awkwardly laugh and Floyd pouts.

"Spring or Summer?" Mrs. Leech asks cheerfully. To your surprise she has somehow managed to snatch up a second piggy bank within the .2 seconds since you took her attention off her.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh just wondering that's all." She has a very serene smile on her face. Almost too serene. Like you just somehow signed away your soul because you didn't read some fine print. "I'm more partial to Spring myself." You try to look to Floyd for some context but for some reason, he's refusing to make eye contact. Weird.

Ruggie

"Thank you dear." The elderly beastwoman breathes a sigh of relief as you help her settle onto a bench next to the Coliseum. "Goodness, Ruggie warned me this place was big but I didn't realize just how serious he was." You nod, unscrewing the cap on one of the water bottles you brought with you for the old lady. She takes it thankfully and you breathe a gentle sigh of relief, not that Granny Bucchi had been anything more than a bit winded when you found her, but it was still worrying to see an old woman bent over like that. "I really should have just waited for him."

"Didn't he promise to meet you at the mirror chamber?" You ask, trying not to sound too judgmental. You find it hard to believe someone who spoke as fondly of his grandmother at Ruggie wouldn't want to escort her around, Granny Bucchi looks at you sheepishly sort of confirming that.

"He doesn't actually know that I'm here just yet, I wanted to surprise him." She tries to pass you back the water back but you shake your head. The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the sort you only ever get while relaxing with a cup of tea, or in this case a nice old lady who is genuinely enjoying the campus scenery. It's so nice Grim curls himself up into your lap for a little nap. Granny Bucchi scratches just the right place behind his ears to convince the "not a cat" to let out a very cat like purr.

"Did you send him a message to let him know your here?" You whisper, trying not to wake your baby. "If not I can send him one." She lets out a small laugh, similar in sound to her grandson's but still very much her somehow.

"Oh I am sure he'd be half way here already if he knew I had you to myself. Who knows what sort of ideas I could be putting in that head of yours." She winks and takes out her phone, squinting at the keys trying to piece together a message. "You should still send him one though, you'll probably be faster than me."

"Do you mind if I take a picture?" You ask sheepishly. "You know so Ruggie knows you're ok." Lies you just want a picture of you with Granny Bucchi. Sure, to Twisted Wonderland she is just some lady, but she is easily celebrity tier to you with how much glowing praise Ruggie heaps on her.

"Oh please do!" To your surprise she seems genuinely excited and strikes a little pose. What a natural, Vil has nothing on this woman. Not that you are going to say that out loud because you don't have a death wish. You happily text Ruggie as Granny Bucchi looks on fondly. "Do you like taking pictures?" Her voice is much softer than it has been in the admittedly little conversation you have had. "Ruggie sends me a lot of the ones you've given him from your ghost camera, I keep trying to ask him if you're planning on being a photographer in the future but he always dodges the question." She's clearly curious and you can't blame her, you just aren't sure how to answer.

"The future is a bit complicated for me." Is what you settle on, really hoping it doesn't loose you points.

"Oh you don't need to feel bad about that." Her eyes are filled with warmth and affection that you haven't felt in a long time, it's enough to make you want to cry. "Technically the future is complicated for everyone, some of us just muscle through it better than others. Case in point." Granny hauls her self up and nudges you to turn around. Ruggie is staring at both of you with a strange look in his eyes, but when he makes eye contact with you he shakes himself out of whatever mood that was and jogs up to meet you both.

It would be nice, you think, if you could do this again.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #first piggy banks are a big deal in my family #like everyone pitches in some loose change for a new baby and puts it in a baby bottle or something idk i think it is kinda cute #sorry for only doing 2 guys i ran out of ideas

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

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Know Your Place 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall, destroyer!Chris [for the purposes of this AU, I will give him the last name Jackson] (Professor AU)

Summary: after a life time of home schooling, you finally get to experience the real world in college. (petite reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all.

You’re lost! It’s an inevitability, really, but your lost and that pulsing swell is making its way from your stomach to your chest. Soon, your throat will constrict and you won’t be able to breathe. Lost, lost, lost.

You turn back down the hallway and retrace your steps. No, you didn’t go this way! You peer over your shoulder. Empty. While everyone else was so quick to flee after the lecture, you lingered to take the call from your mom and wandered a bit too far off track.

You spin again and sway on your feet. You stumble as if you’re on a rocking ship. You go to the wall and put your bag down. You search for your phone and put in the building name to the directory. ‘No floor plan available.’ Oh jeez.

The panic builds as you pick up your bag and blink back tears. You’re an adult! You’re not going to cry. You'll get out of here. Calm down.

You look down at your phone as your thumb hovers over your mom’s contact. No. You won’t call her. She’s already worried enough. You accidentally mentioned having a dessert bar from the cafe and she almost lost her mind. Those things are packed with sugar and filler!

It was just one. You grip your phone tight and black the screen. You’ll follow the room numbers and go from there. How helpless are you to get so backwards in here. It’s not like some magical maze. You’re fine.

You shuffle back down the hall, past the same open door, and stop at the crossways of the next. You hesitate. Straight or right?

“Everything alright?” The deep voice rumbles through the hall and rolls up your spine.

You turn to the vaguely familiar timbre. Oh, you know him! It’s that man with the spirally hair and fuzzy beard. From the Student Centre...

“Walter,” you say.

“Mauve,” he returns as he steps fully out into the hall.

“What... what are the odds?” You bounce on your feet and hug your bag, pushing your fingers over the fluffy teddy bear face. Often times you do that just for a bit of comfort.

“I saw you going back and forth,” he puts his hand on his hip. Oh no, you disturbed him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you,” you clutch your phone against your stomach.

“You’re not,” he insists. “My class let out twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh, sure, sorry, er, psychology?” You wiggle your phone in recollection.

He gives a short nod, “that’s it. You have a class around here?” He asks as his blue eyes bore into you, “you lost?”

You frown and look away guiltily. You’re embarrassed. You sniff and make yourself look at him, “yes. But I’m just trying to get out of her. My class already ended.”

“Right,” he says, “you got a minute? Just gotta grab my things and I’ll lead the way. That’s if I’m not bothering you?”

You flinch, “me? Oh no, it’s not—thank you so much.”

“No problem,” he turns and taps the door frame as he goes back into the room.

You slowly tiptoe forward and peer inside. He folds up his laptop and shoves it into a worn grey passenger bag. He slides a folder in with it and grabs his phone. He squints at the screen before he tucks it into his back pocket.

He hooks the bag over his shoulder and scoops up his jacket. You watch him approach, taking in the full effect of his size. He’s a big man. Burly, even through the thick wool of his sweater. You can’t help but think it looks cozy.

You back up and fold your hands, resisting the urge to compare yourself. Your thrifted maxi skirts and straight-cut button-ups and handmade cardigans are out-of-place on campus. The other girls wear cute shirts and short skirts, even on the cooler days.

It doesn’t matter. He’s only a professor after all. You pull closed the front of your picky wool coat as he emerges.

“Thanks, sir,” you say as he steps up next to you and points you ahead. “I... I kinda... was panicking.”

“Mm, well, it’s a big building,” he hooks a thumb into his jean pocket, “big campus.”

“Oh, yes. Very big.” You agree as you slide your phone into the big pocket of your coat. You trade it for the folded map you keep handy. You open it up as you keep pace with him. You feel him glance down. “I have to get to the...”

Your voice drifts off. You have to go to the student grocery. Your mother sent a list of ingredients and instructions. She said it all needs to be organic but you don’t think you’ll find much of that.

“Hm, you’re a lot more organized than most of my students,” he remarks.

You close the map and look up at him with a sheepish smile, “just nervous. Momma says you should always be ready for anything.” You shrug and shake your head as you set your head right, “mm, sorry, my mom... she says a lot of things.”

He hums and directs you around a corner with a short point. “You’re close?”

“Yep. Just me and her for twenty years,” you chime. “I... miss her.” You feel the drop in your chest as the words force their way out before you could even think them. “Sorry, I just... it’s still the first week.”

“No, it’s expected. Big adjustment coming to school,” he assures you. “But you like it?”

“Oh, sure. It’s exciting. They were having a record sale outside the Rec Centre but I left my player at home,” you say. “But I got a poster of some kittens--” You laugh nervously and shake your head. “You can tell me if I’m rambling, Walter.”

“No, I don’t think so,” he steps ahead of you as you approach the front doors. Yay, he found them. “I’m sure it’s a cute poster.”

“It is,” you agree as he opens the door and lets you out first. “Thank you.”

He follows you out and you begin down the stairs. He measures his stride with yours. As you come to the bottom, you stop and fidget with the map in your hands.

“Thank you so so much.” You flick the corner of the paper. “I’ll let you be now. I’m sure you have lots of work to do but it was nice seeing a familiar face.”

“Yeah, it was,” he agrees and peers around.

“Good luck, Walter,” you chime. “Maybe we’ll run into each other next week.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he mutters and twitches, bringing his hand up. “Wait, where are you off to? I could... I could help you find it.”

“Oh, no, I can’t ask that,” you crinkle the map loudly. “I just gotta get to the grocery and I think it’s near the Student Centre...” you trail off and open the paper to check.

“Well, can I give you a hint?” He asks.

You look up at him again, “what?”

“Everything’s marked up two dollars on campus. There’s a store just off,” he points to the far corner on the map, “right across from this entrance. They bake their bread fresh too.”

You stare down at his fingertip. Your mother wired you some money and it’s not much, and more than she should have. It might be a good idea to go the extra distance and save some dimes. You chew the inside of your lip.

“Oh, that’s-- thanks.”

“I gotta grab some coffee beans. I could come along. So you don’t get lost again,” he offers.

“Really?” You chirp. “That’s... too nice.”

“I don’t mind,” he insists. “I even know a shortcut.”

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #series #drabble #know your place #chris x reader #destroyer!chris #night hunter #destroyer #dark chris #dark!chris #au #professor au

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cntloup · 1 year ago

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Love Is Not Enough

Fem!Reader angst, hurt/no comfort

Part 1 | Part 2

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside and the beams of sunshine reaching the soft skin of your cheeks through the white linen curtains.

You stretch your body, let out a shaky sigh and place your feet on the warm parquet, making your way towards the sound of shuffling and rattling of plates in the kitchen.

“Good morning, lovie.” he greets with a faint smile. “G’morning, Si.” you mumble, lost in your mind. There's a heavy weight on your chest and you ponder on how to bring up the issue.

He narrows his eyes with concern, “Is there something wrong?” he questions. You hum, not totally present, anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.

A few moments pass, until you can’t take it anymore, “Si, we need to talk.” you finally blurt out. “I need to tell you something first." he says, guilt and shame filling up his heart.

You nod, "I talked to Price about the vacation leave, and I can’t take it right now. I'm so sorry. But I promise I will. Soon.” he speaks apologetically, ashamed to have disappointed you.

“What?” you ask with disbelief, feeling disheartened. “But you said...” your lips wobble and a lump forms in your throat. Even though you weren't sure it would fix everything, but you were hoping it would help just a little.

How naive of you to believe he would put you before his work just once. But you chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. And he broke your heart yet again.

“Si, you’ve been working and working the past year. You don’t spend time with me anymore. We're falling apart. Am I the only one who feels it? Or you think last night solved it? Sex doesn’t fix everything, Simon!” you shout, finally taking out your anger and frustration.

“I know that. But I never thought- what do you mean we’re falling apart? No! We can work through this!” he tries to reassure you, his heart crumbling in his chest at the thought of losing you.

"How, Simon? You thought you can put everything on hold? Put me on hold? And come back whenever you wanted?" you yell at him, frustrated.

"I just need some time." he replies, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Simon, you had plenty of time. Nothing will change. You won’t change. You're not willing to put in even the slightest bit of effort. I'm the only one constantly fighting for this relationship to work." you argue.

"You knew what you got yourself into when you married me. What do you want? You want me to leave my work? I can't fuckin' do that! Maybe you're not mature enough for this relationship!" he finally snaps, raising his voice higher with each word.

You scoff at his words, "So I'm the only one who should make sacrifices? Simon, that's not how relationships work!" you shout back.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down, "Your work always comes first. I know that now." you say, defeated expression written on your face as you finally give up fighting this futile fight.

You walk away towards the bedroom. Moments later, you come back with the papers and place them on the counter.

"What are these?" he asks, "Divorce papers." you reply coldly. “What?” his mouth hangs open and his eyes widen, immediately regretting his previous words as he sees how serious you are.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I want a divorce. I think it’s for the best.” you mention calmly and he looks at you as though he sees a different person.

He can't believe the words that just came out of your mouth and how calm you are about it. What he doesn't know is that your heart is being torn apart as you speak the words.

“No! No fuckin' way!” he responds firmly. “What do you mean no? You can’t just say no!” you retort. “No! I won’t divorce you! You're my wife! I won’t...” he shuts his eyes and lets out a sigh, “Give me some time, please!” he pleads with tears in his eyes and you nearly give in at the sight of him.

"I did. Countless times. I can't take it anymore. Deal with a cold and empty home, frightened out of my mind about your safety. I think you should think this through, Simon. There's no other way.” you say, gently touching his arm, trying so hard to keep yourself from breaking down right in front of him.

He stands there, heartbroken and bewildered, trying to digest what just happened, silent tears dampening his cheeks.

You make your way to your shared bedroom and start packing your stuff, shedding tears as the memories flash before your eyes and you weep, mourning your marriage with the man whom you will always love.

"Wait! Where are you going?" he walks up to you, standing in the doorframe, preventing you from passing. "Simon, let me go please." you plead, hoping he wouldn't, hoping for him to take a step towards you for once.

"I love you. We can fix this. Please!" he implores, sobbing. "How?" you ask, desperately hoping for an answer.

But there is none as it dawns on him. There's no other way. And it's not fair to you to go on like this.

You hold his face in your hands, caressing the scars on his cheeks and upper lip, "I love you, Simon. But that’s not enough, is it?"

Years have passed and he still can’t forgive himself for what he has done, cursing himself for pushing you away to the point of entirely leaving his life and for not fighting for you harder.

He still ponders on what he could’ve done differently as his head hangs low, sitting on the sofa, holding a glass of whiskey, fidgeting with the ring in his hand, wondering if you kept yours too.

He wishes he could forget you, the sound of your beautiful voice, your heavenly features and your delicate touch, but you're the only one there is for him, his whole mind and soul immersed in you. He belongs to you and you belong to him.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥

@preeyansha

@icouldntthinkofanythingclever

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader

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valardohaeriss · 5 months ago

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Picture you (1) - C.S

Hello! As promised, I am starting this modern au.

Yes all of my works are named after songs.

warnings: none?

Pairing: Modern au! Cregan Stark x Reader

enjoy!!!!

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

It wasn't that Cregan wasn't smart, it's that this class was hard. Unfortunately, he needed to pass this class to be deemed a senior. He was ready to be out of university, he's been here for far too long. You can only study environmental science for too long. What else was there for him to learn? He was at the point where everything was starting to feel repetitive.

Cregan found his seat somewhere towards the back, the man was tall. If he even tried to sit in the front, nobody would be able to see over his stature. Students started shuffling through and Cregan paid no attention until his thoughts were interrupted by a question. "Is anyone sitting here?" you asked grabbing the chair.

He looked up and shook his head. "no, it's all yours." You took the seat and grabbed everything you needed. Pens, notebooks, ETC.... Cregan felt so underprepared next to you. He had nothing but his usual pencil and composition notebook. It got him through four years already, it never failed him. He was on the simpler side of studying and school work, but compared to you, he had nothing.

"Do you always bring this much to class? How does this work for you?" he asked you. You shrugged. You didn't know why you needed so much, but it made you feel completed and organized. "I think it makes me feel organized. But truth be told, I probably don't need it. I think it's just the structure that feels good about it." you rambled on. You realized you were rambling and quickly trailed off into silence.

He was honestly taking a mental note. Anything to help him stay organized would probably help him. "So what do you study?" He asked. You didn't know why he was holding such conversation with you, but you weren't complaining. He seemed nice. You told him your major and that you too were due to graduate soon.

Class went on and your professor was very monotone. You peeked out of the corner of your eye to see Cregan starting to zone out. You nudged him with your elbow and pointed to the professor with your pen. "Sorry." he whispered. He then realized, he was lost in the lecture. What were you guys even discussing? It was too late though, class was being dismissed.

You started to pack your things and threw your bag over your shoulder. "Hey, I hate to ask you this, but you wouldn't mind like refreshing me on what we talked about today? You can't help but to fall asleep at the sound of his voice." He didn't know where you were walking, he just followed. "Yeah that's fine, I mean how do you want the notes? Email, text, shared?" you offered all of the options.

You saw his eyebrows furrow and he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I was actually wondering if you could like verbally tell me what we spoke about and I can then write the notes? I'm just an auditory learner." he explained. An auditory learner who fell asleep at the sound of the professor's voice. What an interesting conundrum, however you agreed.

"What's a good time for you? and where?" you ask. "Tonight? just so I can keep it fresh on the brain? I don't want to fall too far behind. And either my place or yours, wherever is comfortable for you?" He suggested. It sounded like an okay plan, except for one thing...you didn't know each other's names.

You reached your hand out to shake his and smiled "I realized that we didn't know each others names. Before I invited you to my home, I figured we should know who each other is. I'm y/n." you introduced yourself. He smiled and shook your hand in return. "Cregan, right, so, here's my contact information just in case things change. But just let me know. I'll see you later, yeah?" He reassured himself after introductions. You confirmed and went about your way for the day.

-------

7:30 rolled around and you heard a knock at your door. You wore some casual clothes, not really caring what you looked like in the comfort of your own home. You opened the door to find Cregan at the door with his backpack and some food. "I hope you like curry." he says as you let him in. He had his hair pulled back all the way, save a couple of strands in the front. You hadn't seen all of his face like this, he may have been a stranger, but you weren't complaining.

"are you a eat on the couch person or at the table person?" he asks aimlessly holding food and books in his hands. "The couch is fine. Mi casa es tu casa." he furrowed his brows and then it hit him. You wondered what his grade was in Spanish... or if he took another language. You grabbed some utensils and plates for the food and your phone. "So where shall we begin?" you ask prompting the studies, but you couldn't even get an answer by how much Cregan stuffed his face.

You stifled a giggle and watched the tv and ate as Cregan did. Obviously finishing much faster than you, he washed his face and hands and returned back to the couch. "Sorry, I was starved." He said and subconsciously rubbed his belly. You shrugged it off and set the rest of your food to the side. "You're fine, eat, your brain needs it. Actually it's good you brought food, certain foods are brain food."

"Is curry brain food?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. You shrugged not knowing, but you did let him know that peppermint and salmon was a great option too.

Hours went by and you actually got to see how smart he actually was. He was engaged in the studying, questioning every other topic almost. Organizing his notes like you showed him. He didn't really need you, he just needed organization. He started to pack up his things and you went to your room for a second. Coming back with a notebook separated by sections, you handed it to him. "it's good to have things separated by subject. You'll need this."

He smiled taking it from you and putting it into his own bag. "Hey, thanks for tonight. I really needed it. I'll see you in class." He said before leaving. It felt good to help someone, something told you you'd be seeing him more often.

----

Weeks went by, you always sat in your normal seat next to Cregan, also to make sure that he was paying attention as well. In class, your phone kept vibrating, text after text came through. Cregan couldn't help but avert his attention to the text on your phone "who are you taking to formal?" he smirked and looked at you from the side of his eyes. "Who are you taking to formal?" he asks as your class dismissed?

"hmm? oh nobody, I'm probably not even going to go. Baela keeps asking me because Jace is going. You guys are friends too, right?" it was true, he and Jace had known each other and we're pretty close. "Yeah, but he and Baela are going. So, who's the guy you're going with?" he asks.

lie, just lie

You didn't want to tell him that you had grown feelings for him over these weeks. You didn't want to tell him that it was him that you wished would ask you. So you wouldn't.

"He doesn't feel the same way, so, it's fine. I'll just stay home." Cregan halted you. "no way, you feel this way about him...then we're gonna help him see you at this formal. I'll be your wingman." he offered with a proud smile.

What mess did you just get yourself into?

#fanfic #fanfiction #hotd #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan #cregan x reader #hotd cregan #cregan stark x you #modern cregan stark #modern cregan stark x reader #modern au cregan stark

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scary-grace · 2 months ago

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if my heart was a house (chapter 3) - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) The prequel can be found here: what I can't remember now written for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune extra-special thanks this time to @shigarakislaughter for the emergency beta-read!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

It’s two am, and you gave up on the idea of sleeping well before midnight. Midoriya Izuku apparently wasn’t planning to sleep at all. When you called around eleven, hoping he’d be asleep and you’d have until morning to brace yourself, he picked up the phone, sounding just as chipper as he does in every one of his voicemails. And he’s a talker. You’ve been on the phone since eleven, and you aren’t sorry about it. There’s a lot you need to catch up on. And you’re not the only one. Spinner’s on the line, too.

Spinner was Tomura’s best friend before, and Spinner’s pissed at you. You can tell, and part of you just wants to poke the bear and end the suspense about why. But you want to hear what Midoriya has to say even more, and Midoriya is a seemingly endless fount of information about the state of the death penalty and life in prison. You avoided learning very much about this during the trial. You were trying to hold onto hope, and it already wasn’t working very well. Most of what Midoriya says is news to you. You’re taking notes.

It’s only once he’s given you and Spinner a thorough background in the whole thing that he starts in about Tomura’s case in particular. “What’s interesting about Shigaraki’s case — the thing that jumped out at me first — is the life sentence. The court imposed the death penalty for six of the murders, but tacked on a life imprisonment for the seventh. It got lost in the shuffle of the death penalty thing —”

“Yeah, I never heard about that,” Spinner says. “Did you?”

“I did, but it didn’t mean anything to me,” you say. “It was all just awful. It all meant he’d never be free again.”

“I hear you. But it meant something for sure,” Midoriya says eagerly. “The victim in the life-sentence case was Shigaraki’s biological father.”

You curse. You can’t stop yourself, and Spinner’s voice takes on a note of urgency. “What was that? What do you mean?”

“His dad was –” You hated him when you first heard about him. Now that you’re a parent, you hate him even more, and your limbs start to hum with fury, such that you have to get up and walk it off. “His dad’s the reason Tomura ended up with his adoptive father. He hurt Tomura. I don’t know everything, but it was bad enough that they took Tomura away from the family.”

“So there were mitigating factors,” Spinner says suddenly. “They knew that at the trial?”

“Yes. I dug up a psych evaluation from after Shigaraki was removed from his biological parents’ care, and it had PTSD written all over it. Literally.” Midoriya pauses for breath, then launches back in. “And there’s no evidence that his adoptive father ever pursued treatment for him. Which is — we’ll get into that in a second. Anyway, the fact that the court recognized a mitigating factor in one of the cases signaled to me that there might be room for movement on the death sentence. If I could prove that the same mitigation factor existed across all the murders.”

“We tried that the first time around,” you say. “It didn’t work.”

You remember how dismissive the defense attorney was to you, how it was clear he’d already written Tomura off, how all the money you and Spinner and the others raised wasn’t enough to hire someone who cared. “I heard things have changed a little bit,” Spinner says. “Not a lot, but — Twice counsels kids who are in the system, and he says that they look at that stuff in juvenile sentencing.”

“It’s spilled into adult sentencing as well. The older generation of judges and prosecutors is retiring and the newer ones aren’t as hard-line,” Midoriya adds. “I felt pretty hopeful for at least getting the death penalty knocked down to life for Shigaraki. But once I started looking at the old trial, it was a mess. There was a lot of reason to doubt that Shigaraki actually knew what he was doing at the time of the murders — and when I pulled the confession out of the picture –”

“You can’t do that.”

“His interrogators got indicted two years ago for drugging people who didn’t confess and asking them again under the influence. Yes I can,” Midoriya says. You feel like you’re going to be sick. So much for pacing. You sit down hard. “Once I took the confession off the table, the situation changed a lot. Our legal system, regardless of what the codes say, starts from the presumption that the accused is guilty. I looked at the evidence again, this time based on the presumption that Shigaraki was innocent.”

It’s quiet for a second. You can’t take the suspense. “And?”

“Shigaraki was definitely present when the murders took place,” Midoriya says, “but it’s likely that the only one he took part in was his biological father’s. And it’s not clear that he would have done anything if he hadn’t been under the influence.”

“He was drinking?” Spinner repeats, bewildered. “He’s a lightweight. He’d start throwing up way before –”

“Not alcohol. GHB. That’s –”

“The date rape drug,” you say. Your voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away. “That was twenty-five years ago. How –”

“The same night the murders occurred, Shigaraki’s adoptive father took him to the emergency department, claiming that he’d been drinking. I pulled the records, which included a blood test that was taken at the time. Negative for alcohol, positive for GHB.” Midoriya sounds a little sickened, too. You squeeze your eyes shut. “So Shigaraki’s dad was with him the night of the murders. Shigaraki’s dad took him to the ER due to intoxication on a substance most people don’t use recreationally, but a lot of people use for — you know. And Shigaraki’s dad provided almost all the evidence against him. The state’s case would have fallen apart without it.”

You don’t even know what to say. You should shut up. Instead: “Tomura never got treatment for his mental health stuff. Every time I thought I’d talked him into it, his dad would talk him right back out again.”

“Because he wanted Shigaraki to be unstable,” Spinner says, and swears. “He fucking framed him.”

“Why?” you ask hopelessly. “What would even be the point –”

“I’ve got theories. But that’s not on me to do,” Midoriya says. “One of my classmates from law school is still a prosecutor, and he’s already arrested Shigaraki’s adoptive father. My concern is with Shigaraki, and what’s going to happen when he’s released.”

“We’ve got him,” Spinner says at once. “We can help him get back on his feet. Whatever he needs. We all have money.”

You don’t have very much money, but you want to help, too. You have to help. You have to see him again. “I can –”

“No, you can’t.” Spinner cuts you off, and does it with more venom than he used on Tomura’s apparent psychopath of an adoptive parent. “I don’t even know why you called. You don’t get to care about this any more. You fucking ran!”

“Hey,” Midoriya cautions. “That’s kind of aggressive –”

“I don’t give a shit. He’s finally started writing letters again, and you know who he asks about in every letter? You,” Spinner spits, and your chest deforms from the weight of your guilt. “What the fuck are we supposed to tell him? Sorry, Shigaraki — your girlfriend dropped off the face of the earth and none of us have heard from her in nineteen years? We thought you were dead. Then Midoriya comes up with your fucking phone number –”

“How did you get my number?”

“Uh –”

Spinner cuts Midoriya off before he can answer. “You should have been here with us, fighting for him. You gave up. Why are you even here? Why don’t you go back to living under a rock and let the people who actually love him –”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snap. “I didn’t give up. You have no idea what it was like for me, during the trial — everything –”

“Yeah, you had it so hard.” Spinner’s voice is heavy with disdain. “We weren’t having a great time, either. You know what helped? Staying together. You weren’t just his girlfriend. You were our friend, too. You dropped us all like we didn’t matter and ran off when it got hard.”

“Would you shut your mouth? You have no idea how complicated it got –”

“It’s not complicated at all,” Spinner shoots back. “You dropped us and ran away to the countryside to have your perfect little life –”

Your composure breaks, and for once, you don’t try to keep it together. “Fuck you, Spinner! If you would listen to me for two fucking seconds –”

“Mom?” Chihiro’s bedroom door creaks open, and you freeze. “What’s going on?”

The sound of her voice is all it takes to bring you back to earth. To notice how fast your heart is racing, to notice cold sweat dripping down your spine. “I’m just on the phone. I’m sorry it got loud. Go back to bed.”

You stumble through the explanation, but it doesn’t warn Chihiro off. She comes closer. Spinner must have choked on his own spit, because he’s coughing too hard to respond. At first. “Of course you got married and had a kid. How long did it take you to hook up with some loser and forget all about –”

Chihiro reaches over and presses the video call button, then turns the camera towards herself the instant Spinner and Midoriya both accept. “My mom didn’t hook up with anybody,” she says. “Shut up.”

There’s a clatter on the other end of the line as Spinner drops his phone in shock. Midoriya manages to keep his composure a little better. “Hi,” he says. “What’s your name?”

Your daughter introduces herself warily, and shares her age when Midoriya asks. “Why do you want to know?”

“Once — well, we’ve already filed a lawsuit against the government for violating death row inmates’ human rights, and Shigaraki is one of several plaintiffs. And once he’s released, we’re going after them for wrongful imprisonment.” Midoriya’s writing something down. “Part of the lawsuit is proving the negative impact of the government’s treatment of Shigaraki, and this will help. His wrongful imprisonment didn’t just hurt him, it kept you from having a relationship with your dad. He is her dad, right?”

That one’s for you. “Yeah,” you manage. “I didn’t find out I was pregnant until after the sentencing.”

“We’ll need to do paternity testing to confirm, but –”

“They’ll know.” Spinner’s phone is shaking, and you can see the shock on his face. “You look just like him.”

“You look like an asshole,” Chihiro says, and you take your phone back in a hurry, aware that you should be disappointed and sort of proud instead. Chihiro sits down next to you on the couch. “Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m —” Spinner coughs, looks away. His eyes look blurry. “I’m one of your dad’s friends. Spinner. Sorry, I just — you’re kind of a jump-scare. So’s he.”

For somebody with such a striking appearance, Tomura was pretty sneaky. He didn’t scare people on purpose, but he had no problem startling them a bit. You wonder if he’s still like that. How much will have changed since the last time you saw him. “My mom didn’t hook up with anybody,” Chihiro says. “I’ve never even seen her date. She gets sad every winter because it reminds her of him and she definitely still misses him –”

“Chihiro!” You cut her off, but it’s way too late, and Spinner actually looks relieved. You’re — what? Mortified. Sad. Ashamed. Angry. “Stop making that face, Spinner. If you’d let me finish talking, I would have told you –”

“You were still wrong to leave. But I get why you thought you had to,” Spinner cuts you off. “This is good. I’ll tell everybody so they stop putting together a hit squad, and Shigaraki –”

“No,” you say. Spinner, Midoriya, and Chihiro all jump. “Neither of you can tell anyone, especially not Tomura. It has to be me.”

“That’s bullshit. She’s Shigaraki’s kid, too.”

“My name is Chihiro,” your daughter says. “I’m eighteen. I’m not a kid.”

“Okay,” Spinner says after a second. “Yeah. He still has a right to know.”

“And he should hear it from us,” you say. You put your arm around Chihiro’s shoulders. “Not from you. And not right away.”

Spinner argues, but Midoriya breaks in over him. “I agree,” he says. “A prison sentence like his does things to people. I don’t know what he was like with surprises before, but a surprise this big, the instant he’s released — it’s a really bad idea. That kind of psychological shock can hurt somebody. We want his transition back to civilian life to be as smooth and quiet as possible.”

“He’s going to keep asking about you,” Spinner says to you. “You have to say something.”

You think Spinner’s right. What are you supposed to say, though? How can you say anything without saying the two of you have a daughter together? “If he’s going to stay with you at first, send me your address, Spinner. I’ll send a letter for him.”

“If you want it to get here before he does, you’d better mail it tomorrow,” Spinner says. Chihiro stiffens in her seat next to you. “Midoriya, when’s he getting released?”

“Sometime within the next three weeks. Our PR department has a few editorials lined up to hurry things along,” Midoriya says. He grimaces. “Sorry about the article yesterday. We didn’t sign off on that.”

“The Kizuki one?” Spinner looks disgusted. “She’d better quit mouthing off. Toga’s this close to doxxing her.”

“Don’t tell me things like that,” Midoriya says. “We’re working on it, I promise. PR and the legal stuff is my job. Your job — you two, not Chihiro — is to make sure Shigaraki has a soft landing. As soft as it can be, anyway. This is going to be hard on all of you for a little while.”

“No shit,” Spinner mumbles. He yawns. “I’m supposed to do a book signing tomorrow –”

“I have work. And Chihiro has school.”

“Get some sleep,” Midoriya advises. “And you two — work it out. Please. You trying to kill each other won’t help Shigaraki at all.”

He says goodnight and hangs up, but Spinner stays on the call a little longer. “Hey. Uh, Chihiro — can I talk to your mom for a second? Alone?”

“Are you going to be an asshole?” Chihiro asks around a yawn of her own. Spinner shakes his head, and Chihiro looks to you. “If he starts being an asshole again, just hang up.”

You nod and kiss her forehead before she heads back to her room. Once her door shuts, you make eye contact with the camera. “Now what?”

“Look, I shouldn’t have blown up,” Spinner says. “And you shouldn’t have run.”

“I shouldn’t have done a lot of things,” you say. “Why are we still talking? You said you had work in the morning.”

“I do. But this is important.” Spinner looks as serious as you’ve ever seen him. “When you write Shigaraki this letter, don’t promise anything you can’t follow through on. I don’t know how much of what the kid said is true — the kid. You have a kid. That’s insane.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Spinner forges on. “Even if everything she said is true — about you missing him and everything — that doesn’t mean you want to get back together with him. Don’t say something you don’t mean.”

You can do that, you think. You need to figure out what you mean first. You nod. “This shouldn’t be the only time we talk before he gets out. Let’s check in sometime once we’ve both gotten sleep,” you say. Spinner nods, and something occurs to you. “Why’d we both end up on that call? I mean, we were the closest to him, but for something this big –”

“I was there because Shigaraki authorized it,” Spinner says. “You’re here because he named you when they locked him up.”

“Huh?”

“When people get to death row, they have to name the person who will get their personal effects and ashes — afterward.” Spinner looks away. “Shigaraki named you.”

Spinner must give your number out, because over the next week, you find yourself fielding calls and texts from Toga, Twice, Magne, and Dabi. None of them have brought up Chihiro, which means Spinner and Midoriya have kept their mouths shut, but that means that you spend a lot of time being yelled at. You get why they’re mad, but you’re getting tired of people being mad at you. Chihiro being mad at you is more than enough.

She’s not quite as mad as you thought she’d be. It could be a lot worse. She’s still talking to you, still says she loves you when you drop her off at school and when the two of you say goodnight – but the consequences of your lie by omission are lurking in every silence, and when she comes to you with questions, it always turns into a fight, no matter how much detail you include in your answer. They’re small fights, just a few minutes of raised voices and tears. Maybe other parents are used to this with their teenagers, but you and Chihiro never fought like this before. It could be a lot worse, but it’s awful.

You haven’t cried in front of her, but you’ve cried plenty on your own. In the bathroom with the shower running. On walks in the woods where you come back after dark. In the bathroom on your breaks at work when you’ve gotten another angry text or you fought with Chihiro on the way to school. And of all the calls you’re getting, none of them are the one you really want – the call from Midoriya, telling you that Tomura’s release date has been set.

You wrote the letter, like Spinner said. You mailed it the next morning, and Spinner let you know he has it, on one of the multiple daily texts you’ve been exchanging. Your interactions with him are probably the least contentious. Spinner’s trying to get his house set up to host Tomura, and because you lived with Tomura, he has a lot of questions for you.

For some reason, he’s called you today instead of texted you, and he hits you with a question before you’ve even said hello. “What kind of mattress does he like?

“Huh?”

“Soft, medium, or firm. What kind was your bed?” Spinner asks. Wherever he is, there’s a lot of noise in the background. “It would have been one of them.”

“I don’t remember. I think we bought it used.” Neither of you had very much money. “We were sleeping in a twin bed for the whole first year we had the apartment.”

“Yeah. Something was wrong with you guys,” Spinner says. You roll your eyes. “So the mattress – was it really squishy? Or really hard?”

“Neither. I think it was just a normal mattress.” The noise in the background is even worse. “Where are you?”

“I’m at IKEA. Midoriya said we might get news on a release date soon, and I’m not making Shigaraki sleep on my couch,” Spinner says. He’s at IKEA. You’re too bemused at that to really respond. “I don’t have any clothes for him, either. Do you remember what size he was?”

Yes, but – “He could be different.”

“He’s not,” Spinner says, and your stomach lurches. “Skinnier, maybe. What size?”

Spinner’s seen him. He must have. As much as your instincts are screaming at you to ask, you hold it together. “You don’t need to buy him new stuff,” you say. “I still have his things.”

“You – what? Really?” Spinner sounds shocked. “That’s – it’s been nineteen years. You kept all of it?”

“Of course,” you say. You don’t know what else to say.

The trial is a blur, but what happened after it wasn’t, as much as you wish it was. You couldn’t afford your apartment without Tomura, and because you couldn’t tell anyone why you were leaving, you had to pack up alone. You were exhausted. You weren’t sleeping and you were constantly throwing up, and when it came time to deal with Tomura’s things, you got as far as taking his coat off its hook by the door before you burst into tears. You sat on the floor with your face buried in it until it stopped smelling like him.

Getting rid of his things was never an option, not really. Even if you’ve never unpacked them, even if you haven’t looked at them since you closed the boxes, it’s meant something that they’re there. You’ve been waiting for Chihiro to ask about them. Dreading it. But maybe you can get around that. “I’ve got his clothes. And his old games. I can send them.”

“I’ll take the clothes, but you should keep the games,” Spinner says. You blink. “In case the kid wants them.”

Oh. “Chihiro doesn’t really game.”

There’s an awkward silence. “When you tell Shigaraki about her, don’t tell him that.”

You would have gotten Chihiro games if she’d ever seemed interested, but you aren’t much of a gamer, and you haven’t seen her play much except for Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, and really old Pokémon games. Of all the things you’ve worried about when it comes to telling Tomura about his daughter, the fact that she’s not a gamer didn’t factor in, and you find yourself cackling semi-hysterically into the phone. “It’s not funny,” Spinner says, and you laugh harder. “He’s already going to have a hard time with it. What if –”

He's cut off with a series of staccato beeps. You have another call coming in, and when you check the caller ID, your stomach clenches tight. “Midoriya’s calling,” you say. “I have to –”

“Yeah. Go,” Spinner says at once. “He’s probably going to conference me in, so talk to you soon –”

You end the call and accept Midoriya’s, the questions spilling out in an anxious flood before he can even say hello. “Did you find out anything? I know you’re busy and I haven’t wanted to bother you, but – he’s been there for nineteen years and he should never have been there at all. Why is it taking so long to get him out?”

Usually Midoriya would have interrupted by now, but he’s quiet. All you can hear on his end of the line is ragged breathing, and your anxiety goes from uncomfortable to painful in a split second. “Say something,” you plead. “Is he –”

“It’s me.”

You don’t have to ask who it is. You’ve never forgotten the sound of his voice, even if it’s rougher and raspier than you ever heard it, and your own comes out in a strained, airless gasp. “Tomura,” you say. “Are you – out?”

“Yeah.” He sounds so tired. There’s a strange rattle in his breathing. “Midoriya wants his phone back. I can’t talk long. But I needed to hear your voice.”

“I’m – I’m glad you called,” you manage. It feels like the wrong thing to say, but you can’t imagine what the right thing is. You feel like you’ve been shoved off a building – the sick, swooping feeling in your stomach, the inability to orient yourself, the confusion and fear. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

Tomura starts to answer, but he starts coughing instead, and Midoriya grabs the phone. “I would have warned you if we’d had any warning, but – it was just supposed to be a pre-release conference. If the judge hadn’t insisted on holding it at the prison – it’s only been a week –”

“Breathe,” you say automatically, like you’re talking to Chihiro instead of to a grown man. “Tomura’s out. That’s good, right?”

“The judge ordered his immediate release, so he can go to the hospital. That’s how much his condition has deteriorated!” Midoriya sounds like he’s vibrating with rage. “I know you want to talk to him, but I need my phone so I can call Kacchan and tell him that if he doesn’t indict Warden Torino and everyone who’s worked under him in the last twenty years –”

“Why is he going to the hospital?” you interrupt. Your voice is shaking. “Midoriya, tell me.”

Midoriya’s not listening to you. “This is why prisoners don’t take legal action even when they’ve been wrongfully imprisoned! They know they’ll be retaliated against with impunity. How are we supposed to effect meaningful change if everyone’s too scared to ask for help?”

“Midoriya!” Your voice cracks. “What happened to Tomura?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Midoriya says. “Dehydration, malnutrition – stop that, you’re supposed to be resting –”

“Give me the phone and I won’t have to fight you over it.” Tomura’s barely audible over the coughing, but when he speaks again, it’s clear he’s got the phone back. “I need to tell you something. I promised myself I would.”

“Okay,” you say. Your heart is pounding. It’s hard to breathe. “Tell me.”

“It was real,” Tomura says. His voice goes quieter, raspier. “It’s still real. I love you.”

He starts coughing again, harder than before, and before you can say a word in response, Midoriya has the phone again. “Can you update Spinner and the others? I won’t be able to make those calls. I have to deal with this – and find a way to protect my other clients –”

“I’ll do it, but you have to update me,” you say. “Even if it’s just a text. I have to know what’s going on.”

“Fine. I’ll work on getting Shigaraki a phone,” Midoriya says. “He can call you once the oxygen mask comes off. Until then I’ll do what I can.”

The oxygen mask. Whatever’s wrong with Tomura, it’s so bad that he’s in the hospital or on his way there. You have so many questions that you don’t have a prayer of getting any of them out. “Okay,” you say, trying to buy yourself time to think, and Midoriya hangs up on you.

You slump back against the wall, your head spinning. There’s cold sweat dripping down your spine, and when you lower the phone from your ear, your hands are shaking so badly that you nearly drop it. Tomura’s out of prison, but he’s in bad shape. Midoriya hung up on you. Tomura called you so he could hear your voice, so he could tell you he loves you, and you don’t know when you’ll be able to talk to him again. And you didn’t have a chance to say it – or anything – back.

Something happened to you when you heard Tomura’s voice, the same thing that happened to you when you found out he’d been exonerated, except this time, you don’t have Chihiro’s presence to force you to ground yourself. It’s like you’re twenty-two again. The world’s turned upside down, everything you thought you knew shaken up and shifted beneath your feet. You don’t know what happens next.

Yes, you do. Call Spinner. Call the others. Tell Chihiro, because you promised you’d tell her as soon as you knew anything, and then finish the rest of your day at work. You can do this. You’ll do it the same way you’ve always done it – one step at a time.

You text Chihiro first. She should be the first one to know that her dad’s out of prison. Then you call Spinner – Spinner, who’s definitely still at IKEA, based on the noise in the background when he picks up. “What’s going on? Midoriya never called me. He’s supposed to let us both know when something happens.”

“It wasn’t Midoriya. It was Tomura,” you say, and Spinner goes dead silent. You take a deep breath, let it go, and on the other end of the line Spinner does the same. Not that it helps much. Everything has changed, and it threatens to overwhelm you all at once – but you’ll handle it one step at a time, until everyone’s looking away and you can fall apart in peace. “He’s out.”

<- Chapter 2

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mvltisstuff · 2 years ago

Text

teenage fever - p.p **

summary: peter helps cool his girl down after she gets in trouble at school

peter parker x reader

smut warning pookies 🤭

“got detention today, don’t have to drive me home :(“

peter saw the text the second it arrived, happy to see y/n’s name flash upon his screen. however, his face matched the emoji she put when he noticed what it said.

“what happened? i’ll pick you up and we can head back together after, okay?”

she left a little thumbs up on the message. “i’ll explain later, i’m just annoyed rn”

so, he waited in the parking lot for her. he never minds waiting for her, especially when it’s as rare as this. she never gets in trouble, she’s always been a good student, so he’s completely lost as to why she’s being punished. he sits in his car on his phone for a bit, still pondering why she may have gotten detention.

he saw her walk out of the back doors of the school, heading toward his car with her bag slung over one shoulder. he could instantly see the frustration on her face, and was ready to listen and be the best boyfriend he could.

she walked up, opening the door and sighing as she sat in the passengers seat. “you’ll never fucking guess.”

“i really don’t think i could,” he replies, looking into her face that almost has a smirk on it.

“my shitty calc teacher, right?”

“mhm, go on.”

“she reported my outfit to the office and gave me a detention for being disrespectful about it. all i said was that my outfit was fine! people wear shit like this all the time, and suddenly it’s a problem when i do it?”

peter realizes that he hasn’t gotten a good look at y/n today. at least he hasn’t seen her around school when they have this schedule. so, he takes his time now to scan the outfit that the math teacher supposedly hated.

her hair was pulled back lightly, a few pieces left out in the front. it shaped her face beautifully, the face peter admires every day. he looked down to her top, it was white with thin straps, the ends almost going into a corset-type of look. her waist was perfectly shaped, the one that peter always runs his hands down when standing beside her. the top pushed her boobs up as well, complimenting her lovely round breasts and cleavage that she showed. her shorts were just under her belly button, the dark blue showing off her hips and the way her thighs looked. he tried to sneak by a peek to her ass, turning peter into a hormonal freshman again. he takes in her entire figure, thinking about all the times he’s touched it, kissed it, pleasured it.

“you good?” y/n asks, her brows furrowing when they notice the blank stare on peters face. “babe, stop staring at my boobs, i’ve had enough of that today.”

“sorry!” he exclaims. “i think your outfits good- or hot- well you always look beautiful no matter what you wear.”

“thanks,” she smiles, seeing through his act. just by the way she looks at him, peter can feel himself getting warmer. every single time she fans her lashes while she looks up at him sends goosebumps down his arms, leading to his crotch as he shuffled uncomfortably in the driver seat. “you’re so funny sometimes.”

“what?” he asks.

“i just turned you on by stepping into this car, peter. don’t act all innocent on me,” she tells him, tilting herself more angled toward him. he notices the way her arms get closer together, pushing her tits together and peter can feel himself getting harder. “wow, maybe my teacher was right. maybe i am too distracting.”

she pulls a grin onto her face, letting her hand rest on his thigh. he shivers lightly, placing his own hand on top of hers. she places a hand on the side of his face, pushing his lips against her own. just by kissing her boyfriend, y/n could almost forget about the trouble she was in. she’d do it all again if it lead her to this, though. his hand brushes against her knuckles, lightly floating her hand over his sweatpants.

they are both fully facing each other, eyes shut as they fall into the others mouth. peter could always make her feel like they were the only people in the world, and no one else mattered.

he could easily taste the flavored gloss she had on, the scent instantly entering his nose as she inches closer to him. his fingers ran over her jaw and over her hair, admiring the silky strands on her head that he loved so much. he wishes the noises she made were louder, so he could hear her little noises perfectly, just the ones that turn him on more. it lasts for minutes, her hands trailing down to his thick biceps from all the crime fighting he did. her touch was always warm besides the cool feeling of her few rings on his skin. he let himself wander down to her waist, caressing the side before landing them onto her hips.

“y/n,” he groans into her mouth, pulling away slowly to lean his head against hers.

“shh,” she cuts him off. “i know what you want.”

“i want you to wear this every day.”

“yeah, yeah,” she mumbles, chuckling at him as he writhes under her touch. one of his hands still remains on her hip as she starts to inch her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. he can feel himself getting antsy for her to touch him, to do anything to him to relieve the pressure in his body.

his wish is her command in an instant, helping him to pull down the sweatpants past his crotch to reveal his boxers underneath. when she peels down the boxers, his hardened dick is immediately in her grasp, her mouth watering just by looking at his. she leaves a soft kiss on his tip, only relieving an gram of tightness through his abdomen.

she wraps her hand around his shaft, starting to pump lightly and gets the sweetest moan from peters lips. she adores seeing him like this, the way he falls into her grasp and lets her please him. “jesus, y/n.”

“i know, baby,” she smiles up at his blushed face while he looks at his favorite sight. she takes her tongue and drags it up the underside of his dick, wrapping her mouth around him and keeping her hands on the end. peters hands fly around the place at the intensity, not knowing where to put them until he places one on y/n’s head and the other on the side of his thigh.

she bobs her head up and down on him, sucking his dick with such ease that it makes him more turned on than he’s ever been. he hates to think of this, but he thinks of her in that class, her perfect body on display for him as the teacher eyes her.

the way his dick throbs and jumps makes her feel the arousal form in her heat, just knowing that she’s completely wet over hearing peters moans for her. she pulls back, letting the saliva form in her mouth before sucking her mouth back onto him. she looks over at his veiny hands clutching the car door, his chest heavily breathing and heart pounding. “y/n, fuck i’m really close.”

she signals to him that he can come by just continuing her motions on him. her extra hand moves down to his balls while she fondles them as he groans out into the thick air of the car. when he finally reaches his orgasm, his cum coats the inside of her mouth, settling in her tongue as she wipes some from her lip. he laughs when he watches her swipe some off her chin and swallow the rest, only finding it hotter as he gets hard again.

once peter catches his breath again, he loops his finger through the belt holes in her shorts, pulling them up toward him and he’s able to see the curve of her ass in them and he watches her thigh swing over him, just remembering all the times he’s been in-between them.

“wait,” he starts. “get these off.” he points to the shorts, helping her peel them off her legs to noticed the lacy pair of panties she had on underneath. he doesn’t bother to take her shirt off, not wanting to waste another moment where he’s not inside of her. “you look so hot today, baby.”

“thanks, peter,” she grins against his lips. “but i can just tell from how hard you are right now.” she grinds herself into his crotch, the fabric of her underwear rubbing against him, making him moan. he reached down, moving her panties to the side and runs his fingers through her warm folds. she pushes her warmth up against his dick, sliding his length through her slick pussy.

“you’re this wet for me already?”

“you’re crazy if you think i haven’t been this wet for you all day.” she whispers into his ear. “honestly, there wasn’t a period today that i didn’t think about you fucking me in this car, peter. even in detention.”

“it’s a good thing mr. stark tinted my windows, can’t see anything in here.”

she continues to rock her hips against him before he reaches underneath them. he shoves two of his fingers into her vagina, craving the taste of her on his tongue. she sighs out at the feeling of him filling her with just two of his fingers, only to be disappointed when he pulls them out again.

he brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers before reaching back down to his own dick, slipping it through her folds before sinking into her pussy.

they moan out simultaneously, instantly feeling somewhat relieved of the horniness they felt early. he still grabs a hold of her waist, helping bounce her up and down on his shaft as he moans out sweet nothings in her ear. “oh my god, y/n, this feels so good.”

she runs her fingers through his hair, ruining the small amount of gel he had applied that morning. his own arms reached around, pulling her into his chest and having her lean against him, his head fully in her soft tits and he was finally in heaven.

he reached another one of his hands down, circling her clit with his thumb and getting closer with the thought of him inside of her. he starts to tease the small nerves, making her moan out and pull him closer against her. “holy shit, peter!”

he starts thrusting up into her, using his lower body to slam into her repeatedly. he admired the way her boobs jiggle to the action of him fucking her. the coil in his stomach only began to tighten more, knowing that his second orgasm was close. he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to contain himself and resist cumming inside her warm pussy, but luckily birth control exists.

“peter, i’m gonna cum,” she announces, feeling his thrusts get choppier inside of her. “fuck, fuck, fuck! peter!” she utters out to each of his last thrusts before feeling his own release warm inside of her. the fireworks inside of her went off, feeling the intense stream of pleasure through her nerves. her heart thumps against her chest as she comes down from the high, peters thrusts only being slow and sensual now.

“god, i’ll never get enough of you.” peter mumbles into her neck, giving it light pecks as they both relax in each others arms.

“thank you,” she says.

“for what?”

“well, first of all for that awesome sex, and second, just for being there. you didn’t have to wait for me.”

“i’m glad i did, trust me. i’ll always wait for you.” he tells her, making a cheesy beam grow on her mouth. “i love you.”

“i love you, too, peter.” she plants one last kiss to his lips before moving back to her own seat.

lil extra smth

when peter and y/n walk in together, he slightly trails behind her, noticing the lightness and excitement in her mood. she walks into the room, the fellow avengers sitting around. sam, bucky, and steve were all playing cards games at the table as nat watched over them. tony sat on the couch, reading over something about him that was released in the news paper.

they hear friday announce that y/n and peter have arrived, and they surely didn’t expect a bubbly y/n in her outfit to come waltzing in. “hi, guys!” she says, looking around and giving them a nice smile as peter walks in, too.

“what’s got her so bubbly today?”

“i got a detention today!” she says, with no apparent upset on her face. “sorry we’re later than normal.” she looks at nat next making eye contact and winking at her as she skips away to her room. peter trails behind, almost shamefully walking away from the rest of them. nat just looks at her drink smirking while it swirls in the cup, knowing exactly what’s got y/n so thrilled. she gives a certain face to everyone else, signaling what went down.

“are you kidding me?” sam complains. “you’re telling me parker got laid today and i didn’t?”

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mykuup · 3 months ago

Text

DIE PRΛNDIVM (𝙂𝙤𝙙'𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙡) part 2

Part 1

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My Masterlist

Summary : After tasting you in the dining room, Geta is even more starved and nothing can stop a hungry emperor.

wc : 2.9k

Warnings : SMUT // DARK (read at your own risk) // oral (f receiving) // power play // dub con non con // blood // fingering (f receiving) // pain sex // anal play (f receiving) // virgin reader // BDSM // servant reader // afab reader (but no description) // porn without plot

A/n : I AM BACK (kind of 😅)!!! I am so sorry for the hiatus but my life went crazy and I had to deal with tons of stuff 💀 I tried my best to keep writing but I lost the mojo and now I think that every word I write is shit but y'know... I'm trying my best here 🤷‍♀��

I hope that this second part will please you. Idk if I'm OOC but I wanted to try something darker with our crazy ginger emperor!

No proofread we die like the emperor's sanity 🤪😂

Also, I'm working on a long fic but I need time to go back to my normal writing pace again.

ilysm, thank you for everything 💜💜💜

Taglist : @byronking @stardancerluv @preparedfruit @userchai @helsa3942 @analves @justnobodynothingmore @silentwhisper666 @deliciousfestsalad @25bohemianmoons @saphirmoraitie @claudialioncourtdulac @phobobobophobia @koshkahhh @noblenighttime @moon-390

You put back your tunic in haste, fruit juices sticking on your skin and your own release still dripping from between your legs. Without a glance at the young emperor, you took the heavy platter with you and exited the dining room. Your cheeks were bright red and you were still dizzy from your high. What just happened? You couldn’t believe you came under the expert touch of Geta himself. You weren’t a concubine nor his wife, you were just a humble servant, you couldn’t let that happen again. So on your way to Geta’s room, you went to one of his favorite concubine’s bedrooms to ask for help. She would bring the platter to Geta and he will fuck her. That was your plan. But you got caught before you could even knock on her door.

‘What are you doing here?’ you heard Geta’s voice resonating in the marble corridor. He sounded angry. ‘Don’t you even dare to touch that door,’ he warned you, his death stare looking at you. You froze, unsure why he was so upset, the souvenir of his soft touch still fresh in your mind. You stumble upon your words, trying to explain what was your plan.

‘But, Your Highness, I’m doing this for you. I-she can…’

‘Run,’ he simply said. You look at him, baffled, like a deer in front of its hunter. His smirk widens seeing the fear in your eyes. He loved the way you were scared of him, of his power and he was ready to play tonight. He looked at you from head to toe and licked his lips, remnants of your juices mixed with the fruits still on his lips. Your taste was divine and he planned to feast on you over and over again. ‘I will not repeat myself once more.’

The heavy platter still in your hands, you started running the best you could, avoiding a few servants and some statues through the corridors. Your tunic was long and you almost tripped on it twice. Geta’s calm footsteps echoed on the marble floor, but you didn’t stop running. You were too afraid of what the emperor could possibly do to you. Finally, you reached his quarters and, without thinking, pushed the large wooden door and entered his chamber. You quickly look around you, realizing you were in his bedroom. You put the platter of fruit on the table near the balcony and took a few seconds to finally take a breath. When you heard his footsteps getting closer, you decided to hide behind the heavy curtains. You tried your best to ease your breath and be silent, but your heart was pounding in your chest and you didn’t really know if it was because of your little run or because of the whole situation.

‘Oh, are you trying to hide from me?’ Geta’s voice was playful as he looked around. You heard the door closing and the shuffle of his toga grew closer. He chuckled as he spotted a soft movement in the curtain. ‘I know you’re here,’ he added before pulling out the curtain. You were startled as he caged you between him and the wall, his body flushed against yours. He grabbed a fist of your hair and pulled it to get better access to your throat. He licked a fat strip, your skin still tasting like the pear he displayed there earlier.

‘I told you,’ he hummed at your taste. ‘I’m not done eating.’ He licked your neck again and got down to bite at your collarbone. You cry out from the sudden pain, your skin red with his heavy teeth marks. He smiled at you, his devilish grin sending chills down your spine. ‘Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you…’

As you wanted to beg, he threw your body on his shoulder, surprising you with an unknown strength. You tried your best to fight back, to make him let you go but his grip on you was like a vine. You kept moving but suddenly your back hit his bed, and before you could escape, Geta climbed on top of you, caging you again.

‘Your Highness please’, you begged, but he shook his head no. You started to cry when he pinned your wrists above your head, trapping you.

‘Where is the bold woman I saw earlier? Where’s the selfish one calling me hers?’ He cocked a brow, a wicked look on his face.

‘Pl-Please… I’m begging you, I-’ you sighed as you felt his lips kissing your temple. It was so strange how he could be so harsh and violent but so soft and gentle with you. His free hand traveled south, caressing your entire body until he reached your core again. His fingers dived between your folds, and he hummed in appreciation when he found out you were still wet and warm from earlier.

‘Hmmm, I knew you would enjoy this as much as I do.’ He slowly circled your clit, making you squirm under his touch. ‘I’m gonna eat you up all night long.’

His kiss was feral as he crashed his mouth on yours. You could feel how eager he was for you, his tongue pushing in between your soft lips. You sighed as his fingers were still caressing your bundle of nerves, pleasuring you like no one has ever done. Your thighs opened up more and more and Geta took this as a cue to plunge two fingers into your pussy. The metal of his rings was a huge contrast with the heat of your core. You cried out as he stretched you, now pulling his fingers in and out of you at a rough pace. His grip tightened around your wrists and he stopped kissing you to bite your neck and shoulder, marking you. Tears fell on your burning cheeks, a mix between pleasure and pain.

Suddenly Geta stopped and looked at you.

‘You’re so pretty when you cry, show me all those tears beautiful. And then, maybe I’ll please you,’ his grin wide and sick as he noticed you were crying. He pulled out his fingers from you and his smile grew even wider when he looked at them, your blood all over his skin. He sucked one of his fingers clean, enjoying your taste mixed with the iron taste of your blood, and then approached his other finger to your lips.

‘Taste yourself,’ he ordered. But when you shook your head no, his other hand let go of your wrists to land on your throat, his fingers squeezing tightly. You struggled to get some air, your face getting red as you couldn’t breathe anymore. His face got closer to you, his voice a harsh threat between gritted teeth. ‘Clean that mess you made on your emperor’s hand or else I’ll make you pay for drenching my robes with your cum earlier, you slut!’

His grip tightened around your throat, blocking your air flow and you had no choice but to open your mouth. Geta didn’t waste any second and shoved his blood-coated finger down your throat. The iron taste invaded your tastebuds and you almost gag. But you had to do whatever Geta wanted so he could let you go faster. So you wrapped your tongue around his finger and ring and lick them clean, swallowing your pussy juice mixed with the remnants of fruits and blood.

You watched the man above you, his eyes only dark pupils now as he bit his lower lip. He loved to see you follow all his commands and desires. After you finished your ministrations, he let go of your throat and you took a deep breath, coughing loudly.

Geta took the opportunity to tear off your dress and you jumped at the sudden feeling of the fresh air on your heated skin. Your nipples got hard instantly, the hair on your body straightening and goosebumps rising. But the eager emperor didn’t waste any second, his mouth took one of your nipple, his hot tongue swirling around, his lips sucking it hard. You tried to fight back but a wave of pleasure flooded your entire being and you let out a moan.

At the sound of your voice, Geta nipped at your flesh, making you cry out. He keeps on biting your skin here and there, marking you as his every time you whimper. You try to push him away, to escape from his invasion, but Geta was stronger than you. And as you were fighting back, he suddenly got up at the end of the bed and grabbed your ankles. You didn't even get the chance to look at him as he flipped your body, making you lie on your stomach. Before you could say anything, you felt the silk of his toga against your skin, and the heat radiating from his body. Geta grabbed a fistful of your hair, making your neck arch back and whispered to your ear.

‘The more you fight back, the more I’m enjoying the show.’ You whimpered when you felt his knees parting your legs away. As he was biting your neck again, he pushed three of his fingers in your pussy, stretching you out even more. Your desperate sounds morphed into moans as the pain gives way to pleasure. Without thinking, your body reacted to his and your arched your back to get more friction, your ass now pushing against his body. Geta noticed and hummed in satisfaction.

‘See? I knew you were a good girl.’ You could hear the grin he was wearing, satisfied with himself as he was pumping in and out of you. ‘Let’s find out if you’re eager to please your emperor.’

He released your hair, and his hand landed on your butt cheek, slapping it. You scream, feeling a hot, white burning sensation of pain. He slapped you again, his other hand still thrusting into you. Your breath was erratic and your mind foggy. At first you were trying to escape but now you weren’t sure anymore. The sensation of Geta biting you again took you out of your mind at the emperor let his teeth marks on your buttcheek right before his mouth landed between them. You gasped as you felt his hot mouth and wet tongue circling your hole as he was still fingering you. The burst of sensation was new to you and you moaned loudly when he dived deeper with his thumb.

‘Gods be dammed, you taste so good’, he muffles against your hole. Both of his hands now was parting your cheeks, the emptiness of your pussy making you clench around nothing. His tongue lapped a fat strip from your clit to your ass, and Geta moaned in pleasure, your taste flooding his tastebuds. You were a rare mix of fruits, blood and arousal and Geta couldn’t help himself but to grind his cock against the end of his bed to get some friction. He was hard as a rock under his toga, his body burning with desire and hunger. The growl he let go after his tongue dived deeper into your hole resonated through your entire body, making you squirm and shiver.

‘Don’t move,’ he commanded, mouth full of you. You started to feel a delicious feeling building inside your belly, but you needed more to reach your release.

‘Geta… Please.’ You didn't even mind calling him by his title, too lost in the moment. The emperor hums, still feasting on your core. But when he felt your fingers circling your clit, he loosen his grip and pushed you away.

You whine at the sudden loss of his mouth on you and when you turn around to see him, his eyes were full black, his pupils blown at their maximum. Anger was written all over his face, and his chest was slowly rising because of his heavy breath. Suddenly you were afraid of him again. Thinking it was because you called him by his name, you tried to soothe him.

‘Your Highness—’

‘ENOUGH!’ He looked like a feral lion, his skin flush with anger and lust. ‘Your behavior is not acceptable. I have to punish you now.’

His tone was now calm but you could hear how serious he was. Without taking his eyes off of you, Geta unlaced the golden belt keeping his toga closed and reached for the side of the bed. As he walked closer to you, you got a glimpse of his body; his skin was sprinkled with freckles and moles, his muscles flexing with each movement. You gasp when he pinned your wrists above your head again with a forceful strength, to tie them up to the head of his bed. You tried to free yourself but he tightened the knot, burning your soft skin.

With a single swift movement, he took off his toga, letting it pool at his feet and climbed on his bed again, crawling over you. His hands forced you to spread your thighs apart so he could slide his body in between. And for the first time, you saw him, in his full glory. With horror in your eyes, you looked at his strawberry blonde happy trail under his navel, leading you to his manhood. He was thick, veins adorning his underside and his tip was angry red, precum already leaking off the slit. Dread invaded your entire being. You never slept with a man before, and that’s why you bleed in the first place. You tried to plead, to beg for mercy, but it was too late.

‘I will show you what happens when you’re not doing as you’re told.’

As your mouth opened to speak, Geta pushed into you. You scream as he forced himself, his cock way to big for your tight pussy. He grunted at the feeling of your velvet walls around him but he needed more. Hands splaying under your thighs, his rings were as cold as ice over your heated skin and it startled you when he moved your legs, folding you under his body. Your knees now just above your head, you could feel Geta diving deeper inside of you.

‘You’re so tight it hurts,’ he growled. ‘The pain… Do you feel the pain?’

He asked even if he knew. Geta understood you were a virgin the moment he saw how shy you were in the dining room. But that’s what aroused him the most about you. Sure you were pretty but he had knowned more beautiful whores than you. But what enthrilled him about you was that you were innocent, a perfect prey for his twisted mind.

You were still crying and whimpering as Geta was pounding into you. The pain was still here but your blood mixed with your slickness helped him to thrust in and out easier. Soon your whines morphed into moans and that’s when Geta decided to bite at your nipple again.

‘Gods, you like that don’t you?’ he hummed against your skin, now gently licking where his teeth marks were. You moaned again, pleasure flooding over you. It was a new sensation, a feeling indescribable. Your wrists still tightly bound, all you could do was feel.

Feel the burning of the silk around your wrists. Feel the remnant tingling of Geta’s bites and spanking. Feel the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you. It was overwhelming, and between the fear and pleasure, your mind stopped working. You were numb under his touch and suddenly, when you stopped fighting, the sweet sensation inside your belly increased. Your cunt tightened aroud him, gripping him like a vice, sending shiver down his spine.

‘Oh fuck you’re about to cum don’t you?’

‘Pl-please…’ you whined, not knowing what to do.

‘Who are you begging for?!’ Geta asked, his tone harsh as his hips hit yours harder.

‘You… Your High—’

‘NO!’ he shouted, one of his hands grabbing your throat, squeezing to force you to look at him. ‘Who are you begging for little thing?’ he smirked, his devilish smile showing how satisfied he was seeing the fear in your eyes. But even if you were fucked dumb, you knew what to say to him so he would let you go.

‘Geta please… My emperor. I… I’m begging you!’ you whined. Geta growled in pleasure, feeling his own release coming soon. He loved how possessive you could be.

‘Cum now,’ he commanded. ‘Cum for your emperor.’ His thrust was harder and harder, his movement frenetic, pushing him even deeper.

It felt like he was hitting in your belly behind your navel. Your breath grew heavier and your skin was pink with touches of red where the young emperor marked you. A sudden wave crashed over you and you let out a loud moan, screaming his name. Geta felt your pussy pulsating around him and your legs shaking while he was fucking you through your orgasm.

His release soon was following as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his hot cum paiting your inner walls white. When he pulled out, he kept you folded to watch his cum leaking out, mixing with your blood and release. Geta licked his lips and before you could see or do anything, his tongue licked you clean, the sensation of his mouth over your fold overstimulating you.

He hums, and the last thing you heard before passing out was Geta’s low voice.

‘You taste so good you’re a Gods meal.’

#mykuup #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #emperor geta #emperor geta x you #joseph quinn gladiator ii #emperor geta x reader #geta x f!reader #geta x reader

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