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holybibly · 8 months ago

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𝔗𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔭𝔢𝔱 | Mingi x reader

Pairing: Professor Mingi x cam girl | student reader Summary: You hated Professor Song Mingi wholeheartedly. He was young, successful, too handsome to benefit himself, and сonfident as the devil himself. The living embodiment of all your red flags - 10 out of 10 on the "rich, narcissist, idiot" list. At the same time, Song Mingi was the sexiest, most gorgeous man you'd ever seen. But what will you do when Professor Song discovers your dirty little secret? And that he might be too interested in giving you a private lesson in good manners? Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, University!AU, Sex Work!AU, Non-idol!AU, sugar daddy, student х teacher, forbidden relationships, cam girl. Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 10.3 k Warnings: Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play, spanking, orgasm delay, sex toys (dildo, sex machine), sex work and more. net: @cultofdionysusnet A|N: This ff has been in my drafts for a very long time and was supposed to be a really sweet "gift" for my bunnies. But for various reasons, it didn't turn out the way I had planned, and I'm personally not entirely happy with what I've written. But I tried too hard, so I'm posting it. I hope that the bunnies will be pleased with the amount of debauchery and lust that I am about to offer you.

Bunnies, Professor Song is waiting for you in the lecture hall.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity

The real life of a student is not always as fun and glamorous as it might seem at first glance. If you think university life is an endless whirlwind of parties and passionate romances, then I'm sorry to disappoint you. Student life is nothing more than tonnes of homework, endless stress, and litres of coffee, which you probably drink on an empty stomach because you've been up all night studying for the next 'ultra-important' lesson, and of course impossibly annoying and boring professors who seem to be just waiting for the moment to ruin your life. So when there was an announcement at the beginning of the new term that your group would have a new French literature professor, you were completely oblivious. Your previous professor had been a boring, retired man with an unhealthy obsession with young female students and cigarettes who always left his classroom reeking of tobacco, so you didn't expect much from another 'amazing' professor. But, God, you were wrong. Professor Song Mingi was maybe, just maybe, the most handsome and attractive man you had ever seen in your life. With his elegant and chiselled features, he could definitely pass for a haute couture model. His body was an art form in itself and the hottest topic of discussion in the entire university, not only among the crowd of blushing girls in love but also among the female faculty members.

The way his perfectly pressed classic shirts fit his broad-shouldered, muscular body and the tight, expensive fabric of his pants tightened over his thick, juicy thighs, outlining every muscle, could leave no one indifferent, and even you gave in to the temptation of checking his Instagram profile, especially on lonely evenings. In your defence, you weren't the only one who started fondling herself when thinking of Professor Song Mingi. After all, how could you resist when the man was literally a walking list of the categories on Pornhub? But while Professor Song was a wet dream come to life, he was also the biggest jerk you've ever met. And there were more than a few of them. He was 10 out of 10 on your red flag list: arrogant, narcissistic, annoying, and impossibly self-centred. The world seemed to revolve around him as he looked down on everyone from his lofty perch.

Seriously, every time you thought he couldn't be more handsome and sexy, Mingi would rush out to prove otherwise, driving everyone around him crazy, but in the process, you found even more horrible traits that both excited you and made you hate him with all your heart.

And it seemed that you weren't the only one to feel hatred and resentment, as Professor Song, for reasons unknown to you, decided to make your life a living hell, infuriating you with his every word and action. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't live up to Mingi's high standards, and you always ended up at the very bottom of his class. In all seriousness, the man treated you as if he had the proverbial stick in his arse 24 hours a day. But God, that arse, if you had the chance, you would have loved to sink your teeth into it. It was juicy and firm, and it just created an irresistible urge to hold it in your palms and pull his body closer as Professor Song fucked you hard into the mattress. All in all, if Mingi had been able to hold his lectures standing with his back to the students all the time, as a good student, you would have wanted a seat in the front row, but hell, that was a pipe dream because Professor Song Mingi found a new way to drive you to hysteria every time.

It was really fucked up; you were rewriting your report for the third time, and it looked like you were going to keep on doing it for an indefinite amount of time. It didn't matter to Professor Song that everyone who read your report praised what you said and thought or that you spent a lot of time writing it, sacrificing sleep and nerve cells. But it seemed that nothing could live up to Mingi's standards, which no mortal could ever hope to reach—except for himself, of course.

"Your report lacks depth and understanding of the subject; I'm afraid you weren't paying enough attention while I lectured, Y/N. Did you have more important things to do than listen? Your report is not very good for a student in the third year. I am going to have to ask you to make significant changes; otherwise, you will not be able to pass in my class. Don't let me down this time, or I'll have to take even more serious measures against you."

As if all you ever thought about was being a good girl for him, slobbering all over him, and giving him obedient nods. He can go fuck himself. You hated Song Mingi so much.

French literature was always the first class of the day on a Friday, and it was absolutely terrible. After listening to Professor Song lecture for two hours in his deep, pornographic voice, you usually spend the rest of the day looking grumpy and depressed. And to top it all off, Mingi decided to wear one of his most stunning black designer classic shirts today, in which he unbuttoned a few buttons so that everyone around him could admire his stunningly smooth skin, which you wanted to lick. You swear that this man is a true spawn of hell, sent to earth to be your tormentor and sexual frustration. Needless to say, as well as he ruining your mood, your panties were hopelessly ruined by the sticky juices that tickled your labia whenever you moved.

"Good, at least this day is finally over." You mutter tiredly to yourself as you enter the dormitory that you share with your best friend, who you can't seem to see anywhere at the moment, which is understandable since it's Friday.

Shit, it's Friday; how could you forget it? Damned Professor Song Mingi. You forgot you were supposed to be streaming tonight because you were so caught up in the whole situation.

You hadn't planned to do this all along. It was just a one-time thing to pay off some debts, but money is a real drug that you get addicted to too quickly. But it wasn't just the money; it was the attention. The huge amount of attention you got from your followers was so sweet and exciting that it was impossible to refuse. So, like most other poor girls, it was no surprise that you got sucked into sex work and webcamming too quickly. It was good money that paid your way through university and your way of life without much thought for the future. You received thousands of comments from people who were desperate to fuck that pretty pink cunt of yours, as they had always told you, or to do many other lewd and horrible things to you. You weren't ashamed to admit that you had always been an attention whore, and their words and praise made you want more. It gave you confidence in your body and gave you immense power over those on the other side of the screen, just because of your well-groomed little cunt.

With an excited smile on your face, you walk to your room and remember the package that was delivered to you this morning. A very special gift that you are hoping will be the highlight of this evening's stream. You give a slight squeak as you see a beautiful black box made of heavy, expensive cardboard sitting in the middle of your bed, with a small envelope on top of it. You pick it up, sit down on the bed, and bite your plump lower lip in anticipation. The envelope looks like it came from one of those books of gothic literature that you love so much. It's as black as the box it came in, with a blood-red wax seal in the middle.

As you carefully remove the seal, revealing the small note inside, your whole body subconsciously warms.

"I hope this will make you think of me, doll." Le Maître

The white ink on the black matte paper looks too formal, and you're a little disappointed that the note isn't handwritten. But just to be on the safe side, there's no hint as to who the mysterious sender of the parcel might be. After all, for your own safety, you had to accept the parcel under a made-up pseudonym.

Le Maître. You practically squealed like a schoolgirl when this user first appeared in your paid private chatroom after one of your streams. There were a few other people there, but Le Maître was different; he was regal and bossy to you despite the fact that he paid to jerk off on your body. He was your number one viewer, attending every stream, sending you huge amounts of money, and complimenting and praising you. By now, you can definitely see that you've developed an unhealthy obsession with praise ever since the first time he referred to you as his "good girl."

Just a few days ago, he sent you a text message saying that he wanted to do something special for you—a little gift in celebration of the fact that your account now has over 25,000 subscribers. The gorgeous gift box on your lap is a special gift, and you have an inkling of what's inside the decadent scarlet corrugated paper. You impatiently rifle through the layers of wrapping paper and gasp when you see what you have received—a little sex machine. As you inspect the shiny, erotic pleasure device, you notice a small piece of paper attached to the sturdy, mechanical body of the machine. "A special gift for my angel, who already has more than 25,000 subscriptions. You are such a sweet girl. Please use it in your next stream so your Maître can see it. P.S. I have a controller, Dolly."

You swallow loudly, feeling a nervous shiver run through your body and heat build in the pit of your stomach; you're sure your pussy is already wet with a strangely arousing anticipation, juices dripping down the quivering folds onto your lace panties. Fuck, he's really going to fuck you, thanks to this sex machine. Your attention will be drawn to the large dildo that is attached to the mechanism. It's thick and long, with lots of veins running down the shaft, mimicking the swollen veins on a real cock. It's cold and textured to the touch, and you can imagine how shiny and smooth it will be when your cum runs down it. You squeeze your thighs together in excitement, looking forward to using it tonight and putting on a show for your audience that they won't forget for a very long time. You put your 'gift' to one side and get out of bed to get ready for your weekly stream.

"Hello, bunnies! Are you ready for this evening?" You chirp, your voice sweet and luscious with a slightly childish, innocent tone, as you shyly rub the strap of your sheer lace lingerie. "Tonight I'm going to show you something different from my usual show; as you all know, by now I've reached 25,000 followers." You fidget slightly on the bed, twirling a strand of your long hair around your finger. You purse your lips, knowing that the shimmering lip gloss makes your mouth look just fuckable.

The mini-sex machine is standing on a pouffe out of the camera's view, and you take a deep breath to calm your excitement before you lean closer to the camera so that everyone can see your face and how plump and juicy your tits look in that bra. Luckily, this site doesn't allow screenshots and will quickly ban any user who dares to do so; otherwise, you could be in big trouble.

"You're all so nice to me; you deserve to enjoy my face. Today, I'd like to be a little closer to you. Don't I look especially pretty today?"

One by one, the comments come in, and you giggle at everyone's excitement.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful." "I want to cum on that pretty face of yours, baby." "Your face is making me so horny, sweetie." "These lips are made to suck cock." "You're so pretty; are you going to be an obedient kitty for Daddy?"

We all have our own dirty little secret that we carefully hide, and it happened that the secret of the seemingly arrogant and fastidious Professor Song Mingi was that his regular nightly routine involved watching livestreams of pretty webcam girls with small, tight pussies. A man has needs; sue him for that, and being so busy with work and surrounded by a crowd of hormonal, giggling university students every day, he doesn't have the time or energy to find a connection. And Mingi doubted that anyone could satisfy his sexual appetite. He had always been overly demanding in everything he did, and sex was no exception. Mingi wanted to find a perfect little doll who he could fuck and spoil as much as he wanted; he needed a sweet mouth and free access to a tiny pussy, and in return, he would be happy to give the cute doll his black credit card.

One evening, he found one who immediately caught his attention, and not just because of her pretty, juicy tits and doll-like, shiny mouth, while he was browsing through the numerous profiles of various girls. You were so adorable and innocent-looking, but completely slutty. It was an instant match made in heaven for Mingi. Imagine his surprise when he saw you the first day he started working at the university. You were his student, his sweet little student, the girl he had shameless fantasies about all the time. He thought that he should feel disgusted with himself, or at least ashamed, but to be honest, Mingi didn't care; your cunt was pink and tight, and that was enough to make him forget all sense of decency.

Mingi doesn't know how he feels about it, but the way his cock gets hard just at the sight of you means he'll be getting his money's worth and enjoying the show. His classic black shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his embossed abs and golden, luscious skin dripping with sweat. He unzips his trousers and pulls out his big, throbbing cock, which jerks at the sight of you in the slutty lingerie you have bought with his money. He hisses softly, biting his plump lower lip, his eyes fixed on the cleft between your tits. Mingi desperately wants to fuck your breasts.

"Someone very special has sent me a beautiful gift, my darlings, and I am definitely going to make use of it today." Your cheeks are burning from all the lewd comments, but it is only turning you on more and more, making your pussy even wetter and more needy.

You sit down on the bed, bend down until you can't see the chatter, and pull the ottoman between your legs to the edge of the bed. The sound of the incoming tips becomes loud and constant as soon as the erotic device appears in the frame.

Mingi slowly strokes his thick, veiny member with his hand, clutching the small sex machine controller in his other large hand. He can't help but wonder what it would be like to be the one to destroy your pretty pussy with his cock. His dark eyes bore into yours as he bit down hard on his lower lip and used the pad of his thumb to circle the already-leaking red head of his cock. If only he were able to fuck you right now.

You take a bottle of vanilla lube and smear it on the dildo, moaning loudly as you run your hand from the base to the head several times, tracing the ridges with your fingers to simulate veins, imagining that this is the dick of a certain professor. God, you hate and adore Professor Song at the same time; he is the star of all your most depraved and vulgar fantasies, which is why you always cum so hard and profusely. Fortunately, when you collapse during your orgasm, you have enough control over your mouth to keep from moaning his name.

With your other hand, you pull your pretty panties aside and run your fingers through your wet folds, spreading them slightly and showing off your wetness.

"Fuck, your pussy is so nice." "You've played with yourself before; you're already so wet." "Give me a lick of your pussy, angel."

The comments go on and on, as do the messages about the tips while you are gently massaging your pussy. You close your eyes, bite your lip and let out a soft moan as the pad of your middle finger makes contact with your sensitive clit.

"Damn it, I wish I could have your fingers playing with my pussy right now," you whine. Your free hand pulls down your bra straps, exposing your breasts to the camera, your nipples hardening with growing pleasure. You take the nipple between your fingers and gently twist and pull at it. Your pussy is leaking, the transparent, viscous mucus enveloping your fingers, making them shiny and smooth, and running down your milky thighs, leaving a wet, cold trail.

You imagine Professor Song's long fingers penetrating you, stretching your tight hole, and preparing you for the insertion of his dick into your pussy. Mingi has breathtakingly beautiful hands—wide palms, thick, long fingers, always adorned with rings and bracelets. Fuck, just to feel those rings inside you, pressing against the silky hot walls of your pussy, you would do anything. You circle your fingers around the wet, quivering edge of your hole before you slip two fingers inside, your soft walls tightening around them in an instant. Your other hand stops playing with your nipples and reaches out for the toy that is about to fuck you to death.

Your breathing becomes uneven, your chest rising and falling with your moans and gasps. Your fingers run over the silky walls of your pussy a couple of times before you start to fuck yourself to death at a fast and furious pace. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you stick out your tongue and let it drip onto your naked tits.

You know the effect you have on your audience; they love seeing someone so sweet and angelic looking like a slutty whore, and to get more praise and tips, you pull your fingers out of your cunt and slap your pussy with them. The loud signal of the incoming tip is echoed by the wet, disgusting sound of your hand touching your skin.

"Oh daddy, I want your cock so bad; my pussy is throbbing for you," you say. You hold your fingers up to the camera to show how wet they are with your slick. "I'm such a sweet Daddy; I want you to eat me up. I promise I'll come on your tongue like a good girl." You put your fingers in your mouth; you lick them, suck them, and slurp around them. The moans you make sound more like whimpering than something soft and melodic.

On the other side of the screen, Mingi is moaning in a guttural way as he leans back in the big leather chair in his home office, squeezing and massaging his balls as he enjoys the wet slurping sounds that you are making. His cock is pressed against his hard belly, the viscous pre-cum dripping from the head of it and flowing between the reliefs of his abs. His eyes roll back in his head as he imagines fucking your cunt with his nimble fingers, stretching your tight little hole in preparation for his hard fucking. You will be moaning loudly and writhing as your juices flood his hand and run down his sinewy forearm.

You get on your knees on the bed and adjust the toy so that it's right in front of your dripping hole, holding your knickers so that they don't block the view of your pussy. You are already looking so messed up. A long string of mucus is coming out of your hole, straight onto the toy, and the strokes are coming in at a crazy rate. You look straight into the camera with your big innocent eyes; your lips are pouting sweetly. Mingi hisses at this, grabs his dick, and squeezes it several times. The fingers of his other hand are flicking the switch on the controller of the sex machine.

"Please, sir, I've been such a good girl for you. Are you going to fuck me now?" You are licking your lips with the tip of your tongue, and you are lowering your pussy down onto the artificial dick. The silicone is cold and smooth, and the contrast in temperature between it and your hot pussy makes you moan loudly and for a long time.

Mingi growls, the desire coursing through him as he hears the respectful title that falls from your plump lips, in the same way that you address him as "Sir" in class when you turn up for his lecture, and it drives him mad. He turns the dial, and the car comes to life and begins to move. Your eyes lose their focus, and your mouth falls open as the toy begins to move inside of you. Your fingers spread your labia, and you show the audience how the dildo is slowly stretching your tight little hole. The size of the toy is huge, despite the artificial penis being cold and lifeless, but that doesn't change the fact that it is tearing you apart. Your legs tremble as you try to maintain a stable position on the bed. Your toes curl as you begin to play with your swollen, sensitive clit, stimulating yourself further and causing more of the sticky, slippery fluid to gush out of you.

Mingi watched intently through the screen as you writhed and moaned; the toy was finally buried completely inside you, and he could see its impressive size causing your belly to bulge. Damn it! He can bet his bottom dollar that the silicone head of the dick is in direct contact with your cervix. When he sees how greedily your cunt swallows the toy, his predatory dark eyes flash, and he swallows noisily. You can take his cock like a good girl, and he'll see to it that it happens soon. Even though this toy is much bigger than any you've fucked your cunt with in previous streams, Mingi doesn't give you time to get used to its size. But he knows that in reality, you are an absolute slut who lives for the cock and that you can easily take anything that is given to you.

The sex machine picks up speed, and you scream loudly as you feel the fake veins on the dildo drag along the walls of your body with every mechanical movement—your hands cupping and massaging your breasts, your fingers pinching your swollen nipples. The pleasure coursing through your veins, your moans growing louder by the minute, and your head falling back. Your thoughts turn to Professor Song, of course.

God, that man—the way your body has reacted to him has been completely abnormal. Professor Song Mingi is an absolute asshole, and all he does is bully you and ruin your grades. But fuck, you wanted it so much—to destroy your pussy with his dick. You hate every part of his gorgeous appearance—that stupid long hair, a weird shade of orange that looks damn good on him, those sharp fox eyes that always look at you with judgement. There's such disgust and contempt in his eyes; it's like he's saying, "You're a worthless whore," and God, you really want him to address you like that, especially in that porn voice that makes your pussy leak.

Under your fingers, what will his hair feel like? Will it be as soft to the touch as it is to the eye? What will his eyes be like? Will they be filled with unbridled hunger as his long, slick tongue flicks across your clit? Will his deep voice vibrate against your skin as he moans softly and tastes you in his mouth? Will his big, rough hands be gripping your hips, digging their fingers into the soft flesh until you're bruised and scratched, holding you still as he buries his face in your cunt as if he couldn't live without it for a single day? All these vivid erotic images flash through your brain, the constant beeping of the donors just background noise as you imagine your professor's deep, velvety voice commanding you to cum.

"Wish you could fuck me now. Oh fuck! Please, sir, fuck your pretty little doll properly." You moan loudly as the speed of the sex machine increases, all the words blending together. The whirring sound of the machine synchronises with the rapid beating of your heart as the silicone cock thrusts into you, lewd squelching fills the room, and your moans and cries become longer and more pitiful, like a cat in heat, as your orgasm begins to build rapidly.

"Oh sir, I'm thinking about the way your dick is sliding between my legs. Is it as thick and as big as this toy? Are you going to feed your doll with your cum?"

There are few things in this world that can make Professor Song Mingi lose his balance, but the sight of his cute little student fucking her dripping, plump cunt with the toy he has given her is definitely the one thing that makes his jaw drop. You are fucking beautiful, a real doll that Mingi would like to sit on a velvet cushion in his house and admire like a work of art. He knows you're about to come—your cheeks are flushed, your lips are parted in a perfect orgasmic "oh," your trembling little hand reaches for your clit to rub the throbbing bundle of nerves and bring you to the desired climax, and your eyes are so closed you can hardly see.

Mingi's hand glides a little faster over his dick; it's slippery and shiny with the sperm that leaks out of it. At the same pace as you rub your aching clit, Mingi makes sharp, quick circles with his palm around his cock.

"Fuck!" Mingi growls as he grips the arm of the chair and pushes his hips into his hand, the massive bracelets around his wrist clanking as his hand comes down hard on his cock. As the sex machine fucks you hard and fast at top speed, the controller is forgotten on the table next to his laptop. Your piercing moans are music to his ears, and the way your thighs subtly tremble shows the immense pleasure he is indirectly giving you. Your head is thrown back, exposing your neck, and your hips roll on the toy, the juices from your vagina running down your ass and soaking the sheets beneath you, your juicy, plump tits bouncing with the movement of the sex machine.

"Sir, Daddy, please! Can I cum for you? Please let me come for you! I've been such a good girl for you!" You are shaking all over, your orgasm is growing stronger with each passing second, and you know that it is going to be amazing. The palm of your hand is slapping your pussy again, and the sounds of tipping over are coming with renewed force. What fucking perverts!

When he realises the effect he is having on you without even touching you, a tingle runs down Mingi's spine. He has complete control over your orgasm, and you will do whatever he wants without him interfering in your real life.

"Come for me, my doll." His voice is dark and deep, despite the force with which he fucks his hand, the leather chair creaking from the powerful thrusts of his thick, meaty thighs. As if you can hear him, you pinch your clit sharply and squeal deafeningly, your body shaking in small convulsions as you cum on a toy you imagine is Professor Song's dick. The walls of your pussy contract as you try to hold the fake cock inside you as you ride out your orgasm.

Mingi cum right after you, moaning gutturally, his eyes rolling back in his head as streams of cum spray onto his thighs and abs, his mind clouded by the orgasm, and he completely forgets that he hasn't turned off the toy that continues to mercilessly stuff your cunt. His attention is drawn back to you when he hears you squealing pitifully, the tears rolling down your face and smearing your make-up, and Mingi finds himself thinking that he would like to see the same look on your face when his dick is deep down in your throat.

"Oh my God, s-sir, turn it off! Please, I can't... Oh, bloody hell! Sir, I beg you..." You scream, the tears streaming freely down your face as the sex machine continues to fill your pussy with cock like there is no tomorrow, your hands gripping the sheets as the sensory overload washes over your body like a tidal wave.

Mingi looks at you with hunger and animal lust as he watches the toy abuse your used, dripping cunt. Of course, he could turn it off if he wanted to, but he doesn't because he knows that you could just lie back on the bed and put an end to your supposed agony, but you don't want to.

He gives you a devilish grin and licks his lips as he watches the fat tears roll down your flushed cheeks as you beg him to make it stop. Your whole body glistens with a subtle sheen of sweat, and as Mingi has watched your body countless times, he knows every reaction of yours—you will cum for him; he is sure of it.

"Oh god, damn, damn! I'm going to cum again, Daddy." You let out another loud squeal, your back arching as you come for the second time that night, and this time a clear stream of liquid shoots out of your pussy, soaking the sheets even more. The tipping sounds are louder than they were before, and if there was an audience in your room, they would definitely enjoy watching you squirt over and over again. Damn, you really put on a show for them that they won't forget in a hurry.

Mingi smiles with satisfaction and strokes his cock once more, this time prolonging his pleasure with lazy strokes as he watches you whimpering and twitching with the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm. He is kind enough to put an end to your torment by picking up the controller unit from the table and turning off the sex machine. The loud mechanical whirring ceases as the toy stops fucking you. You slowly rise from your seat, the thick dildo sliding out of your pussy—glossy and wet with your essence. You whimper quietly, still too sensitive, your chest heaving with heavy, ragged breaths. The next thing you do is make Mingi sink teeth into his lower lip until it starts to bleed.

"Let me clean you, Daddy; you have been so good to me today. My cunt feels so warm and full." Your pretty, plump lips wrap around the fake cock's head, smacking sweetly before shoving the larger half of the toy into your mouth, sucking and licking with your tongue like a real cock. After tasting the juices running down the length of the silicone, you close your eyes and moan.

Your brain forms images of how you would do this to Mingi, choking on his cock, swallowing it to the base, tickling his balls with the tip of your tongue; sucking him like a good girl, licking every swollen vein along its huge velvety length, and you know Professor Song has a big, thick dick. You think about how he will grab your hips, slap your butt cheeks hard, and penetrate your needy, horny cunt with one hard thrust until his balls are slapping against your ass. Fuck, you really want Professor Song to destroy you, and this desire almost overshadows the hatred you feel for this man.

Snap back to reality, and you're practically crawling over to your laptop with innocent, tear-stained eyes before pulling the toy out of your mouth with a wet pop and smiling brightly at the camera as if you hadn't just been ruined by a silicone dick. Your mouth is shiny and wet from a mixture of saliva, sticky pink lip gloss, and your juices.

"Fuck, that was so hot."

"I'd like you to splash on my cock as well, honey."

"Wow, baby, I didn't know you could do that. Will you squirt on my face if I pay you?"

"I want to cum in your cunt so bad, sweet cheeks, daddy must keep you full and pretty with his cum."

"You're so fucking beautiful, angel, I'll jerk off on your face every night."

"That was your best stream ever, princess."

All these comments are making you giggle. Men are really just horny animals; show them a nice pussy and they will be at your feet.

You spend some time interacting with the public, reading comments, and showing off your new toys and lingerie that you bought with the money you made from streaming. The cursor hovers over the bright red button, and before you press it to end the broadcast, you look straight into the camera, first slowly licking your lips, then slightly tilting your head to the side with the sweetest expression on your cute little face. It may seem that you are talking to all the viewers, but in fact you are talking to just one man, Le Maître.

"I hope you have enjoyed today's show, sir, and that you have had a lot of fun. But I really want you to use your real dick to make me cum and squirt so hard. I really, really want you to fuck me in real life, Daddy." You kissed and winked at everyone, and you finally finished your show.

Mingi couldn't sleep at all that night; after the show, he jerked off two or three more times, even using an artificial pussy, imagining he was fucking you instead of a cold silicone toy. He came so much that his cum was everywhere, even landing on his luxurious diamond-encrusted Rolex.

In contrast to your restless, overheated professor, you fell asleep almost immediately—tired and satisfied—from an amazing orgasm and from a huge amount of money that fell into your bank account after the stream had ended. Of course, your Le Maître was the biggest donor of all.

Next Friday

"I expect all of you to take this course more seriously and to have your homework done by Monday. From next week, there will be three more lectures on French literature in your course, so don't be a disappointment to me. The class is dismissed."

You sigh heavily, already anticipating the torment the extra pairings with Professor Song will bring you. Fuck, you hate him so much, but the sight of his thighs in those tight trousers should be illegal. That's a real crime against humanity. You gather your things and hope to get out of the stuffy lecture hall, which now always has the smell of pure sex—Professor Song's perfume. If you didn't know any better, you'd be thinking that the man was literally bathing in an aphrodisiac, because it's just not real to smell like that. You never thought you'd be turned on by someone else's perfume, but here we are, drooling on the floor at the incredibly sexy scent that Professor Song Mingi wears like a second skin. Sometimes you wonder: Does the bitch know how attractive he is? But he does, and he uses it to his advantage, judging by that smug, arrogant grin that always sits on those plump, sensual lips.

You are just about to leave when you hear his deep, husky voice calling out your name. Oh no, not now.

"I'd like to talk to you about your performance, Y/N." Mingi begins to speak slowly, stretching out the letters and putting emphasis on the last word. There is definitely a certain ambiguity in all this, which you can't quite make out. "What can you tell me about it?" He walks around his desk, leans his gorgeous butt against it, and crosses his arms over his chest. His poor shirt buttons try harder than the devil on a good day.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion and walk down the stairs, authematic, to be closer to him. Why is he asking you that now? Damn, he always finds the perfect time to throw you off balance. Your heart races, and you try to ground yourself, thinking about what an idiot he is and what strange things could be going on in that beautiful head of his. You struggled to read him; his stunning model face always had this arrogant royal expression that completely failed to convey his true feelings, so every time you talked to him, it was like playing with a big cat.

"I think I'm all right, Sir. Why are you asking?" You stammer slightly, but when you hear Mingi's deep moaning, all your mental scolding about your nervousness quickly fades away. You stare at him with your eyes wide open in an attempt to comprehend what the hell is going on. Your eyes focus on Professor Song. The way your narcissistic jerk of a professor shamelessly adjusts his trousers, which now show a very noticeable bulge in his crotch.

Before you know it, you're standing right in front of him, and your nervousness has returned with a vengeance. He's even more handsome up close—classic glasses perched on the bridge of his perfect nose, his long fingers reaching up to remove them and place them on the table. He stares at you with his dark fox eyes, towering over your petite frame, as he carefully pulls the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows, revealing the massive bracelets around his wrists and the bulging veins on his forearms. God, does he have any idea of the effect this has on you? Too afraid to look him in the eye, you cast a glance at the small cross around his neck.

"Yes, you're doing very well. Too well, actually, aren't you, Y/N?" As his thumb runs down your soft cheek, tracing the outline of your mouth lower until he slides it between your parted lips, you almost gasp and feel like you're going to faint. You don't hear anything but your heart pounding in your ears. It feels like it's about to burst out of your chest. You stare at him helplessly as he presses the pad of his finger against your tongue, stroking it lightly. A devilish grin appears on his plump lips, replacing his usual bitchy expression with something more sinister and dangerous. "Such a beautiful little dolly, aren't you? So skilled with your fingers, so good with that pretty little doll mouth of yours, and you definitely know how to serve that little cunt of yours perfectly." Mingi whispers as he leans closer to you, his other hand reaching under your skirt and squeezing your bare bottom. Fuck, you definitely shouldn't have worn a thong today. "I'm sure you're playing with your sweet bottom, too, bunny." He continues to rub his thumb over your tongue for a few more moments, while his other hand gives your arse a hard massage that makes you squeal with pleasure. You're quite sure that the skin on your bottom is already red from his aggressive touch. As soon as Mingi stops touching you and pulls his hands away from you, crossing them over his broad chest, the situation comes back to you.

You are watching his every move, breathing heavily, letting your eyes glide over every pulsing vein on his forearms, and praying to God that you will have enough strength not to lean over and run the tip of your tongue over them.

"P-Professor, I don't have a clue what you're talkin' about."

"Oh, darling, don't play innocent; you have a very clear idea of what I'm talking about. I'm really glad you found a good use for the gift I gave you last night, my angel." Professor Song's voice is a velvety whisper, and considering how quiet it is in the lecture theatre, he might as well have shouted, the meaning of his words ringing loudly in your ears. He's like a predator, slowly circling around you, the soles of his designer shoes clicking on the parquet floor. Your feet feel as if they are glued to the floor, and you don't know what to do. When you try to speak again, your voice sounds broken, and you are on the verge of tears.

"Will there be a report against me, Professor Song? Or what? You haven't got any hard evidence that it's me." You say it with conviction, and hope springs, but unfortunately, it dies as soon as Mingi opens his mouth.

"That may be true, my dear. But you wouldn't want such terrible accusations to be made against you, would you? Mingi taunts you; his deep voice suddenly comes very close to your ear. You feel so unprotected in his presence, so tiny in comparison to his huge, tall body. Why does this man have to be so bloody big?

"They'll never know it was me who found your profile on the porn site; I could easily pass it off as an anonymous tip." You catch your breath as you feel his rough, hot hand slide under your skirt and up your thigh. Mingi smiles at your reaction and leans in closer to you, biting the lobe of your ear. "Besides, this is going to get rumoured around the university. People will be tempted to do a check on your account—people you know, people you might be close to." He goes on, the heat of his breath making you shiver.

His broad palm grips your mound in a possessive way, the heat from your pretty pussy causing his cock to twitch in his trousers. You try to stifle a shameful moan, but the sound escapes you, and you unconsciously lean forward, pressing your breasts against him. Mingi wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body as he does so. Oh shit, your head is spinning from the smell of his perfume so close, and on top of everything else, you're ashamed to admit it, but your pussy is terribly wet, and you're pretty sure Professor Song can feel your wetness in the palm of his hand.

"It may be illegal to screenshot, and your streamers will disappear, but what about the pictures and videos you've posted? Of course, everyone will be able to see your sexy little body all over the place. And don't you dare argue about it. You always look like a thirsty slut, wearing those tiny skirts and shoving your tits in everyone's face. You are a worthless little bitch." Professor Song hisses and presses the palm of his hand harder against your pussy, and you want to rub it against it so badly that it's almost pathetic.

Your tongue doesn't turn into an object; it's as if it were glued to the roof of your mouth. Mingi was right; you've always dressed rather provocatively, and it's never bothered you, but it seemed to bother him.

"Either way, your name will still be in tatters, and my reputation will be perfect and clean, as it should be. I'm a respected professor with a model student. I'm not someone who watches a cam-girl stream every Friday night and watches how she stuffs a fake cock into her luscious little cunt." Wiping away a tear that has accidentally escaped your eye, Mingi's thumb runs down your cheek. Your vision is blurred by the tears, and the dark, lustful eyes of Professor Song are the only thing you can see clearly.

"Please tell me... What can I do to stop you from saying anything about me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, and your words are a useless string of letters. Mingi's eyes flash angrily at your whimpering plea.

"Ah angel, you sound even better in real life when you're begging." Mingi moans as his middle finger slowly rubs the folds of your folds through your panties, which are more like a tiny piece of lace and do very little to cover the plumpness of your cunt. You whimper softly as you lean back against his shoulder. You've always been easy to arouse, and the wet sound you make when Mingi's fingers tease your pussy makes it clear that you're absolutely flowing for him right now. You can be sure that as soon as he pulls your panties off to the side, your viscous slime will be dripping freely out of your hole and onto the polished parquet floor. "I think you know very well what it is I want from you. I pay you good money all the time; don't you think I deserve the real thing, my doll?" You let out a loud whimper as his big hand pressed down hard on your shoulder. "On your knees, little one; don't keep your sir waiting."

As you kneel before your professor, facing the growing bulge in his trousers, your lower lip trembles. Professor Song is leaning against the desk, his hands on either side of his body, gazing up at you from under the lashes of his eyes. Your trembling hands are fumbling with his belt, and the sound of the metal echoes through the empty room.

"Oh, now you're embarrassin' yourself, darlin'? Where's that slutty bitch who was squirting all over yesterday because she let her pussy get stretched by a big dildo?" Mingi says it arrogantly, tilting his head to the side and tapping his fingers on his desk in disappointment. You flinch at his words like a slap in the face, but don't bother to reply as you pull down his trousers and underwear, the sight of his thick, wiry cock making your mouth dry as you try to swallow the lump in your throat. Like everything else about Professor Song, his cock is amazing—a drop of pre-ejaculate glistening on the flushed head, a thick vein swollen and throbbing just waiting for you to run your soft tongue over it, and its size—he's got a huge cock with a massive girth that you can barely wrap your palm around. Mingi wraps his hand around the cock, his thumb smearing the wetness over the head before he brings it to your lips and runs his whole length over it, leaving a wet sheen, and slaps your mouth a couple of times.

"Open your mouth, dolly."

Mingi's other hand tangles in your hair, pulling hard on the long strands as you obediently open your mouth for him. His thick cock enters your mouth slowly, your jaw tensing as you try to get used to the size of it. You choke as the blunt head of his cock hits the back of your throat and the balls rest against the side of your chin. Mingi's thumb caressed your tear-stained cheek, and he cooed sweetly as he watched you gurgle around his cock, drool bubbling at the corners of your lips and dripping down your chin. His cock is hot and heavy in your mouth, the veins stretching across the sensitive, velvety skin. Professor Song doesn't give you enough time to get used to the size of his cock and pulls your head back until the only thing left in your mouth is his head.

"Don't you think you should lick me before I fuck you in the mouth, doll? You were very eloquent about wanting me to do it yesterday." You obediently run your tongue around the head of his cock, feeling more pre-cum pouring from his slit onto your tongue. It has a sweetly bitter taste, and you think that it is very suitable for Mingi. "Well done." Professor Song hisses at you before he pushes his cock all the way back into your mouth. You gasp as your hands fly to his strong, muscular thighs in an attempt to push him away as his hips thrust sharply forward, mindlessly using your mouth as his personal cock sleeve. The thick length of it presses down on your throat, and the bulge of his cock is perfectly visible against the back of your neck with each powerful thrust.

"I have been waiting for such a long time to fuck that slutty mouth. Darling, I can see that you have nothing more to say to me, do you? That's how it's supposed to be; whores don't get to talk." Mingi lets out a deep moan and throws her head back as she pushes you down on his cock. Your saliva mixes with his pre-cum and sticky lip gloss, coating the length of thickly dick, making it shiny and smooth so it slides easily over your tongue and deeper into your throat. As you reflexively try to swallow, your jaw aches, your lips stretch around the thick circumference, and the walls of your throat contract. Never in your life have you sucked such a big, long cock, yet here you are, fulfilling the role of a pretty sex toy for your professor to enjoy. At least, unlike some lifeless silicone, no matter how expensive, your cunt and mouth are warm and moist.

As he mercilessly fucks you in the mouth, Professor Song is not shy about his volume, emitting hoarse, prolonged moans and growls. Anyone could walk into the lecture hall at any moment and see your compromising position, but for some reason it turns you on. Maybe you really are a slut, although as long as you get paid enough, you don't mind being one, especially when Mingi is the one scolding you daily until you pass out.

"Fuck, I'll cum." Mingi gasps as he wraps both of his large arms around your head, trying to hold it in place. You moan around his cock, the vibrations making Professor Song growl ducky as he presses harder into your slluty mouth and your grip on his hips tightens, your nails digging into the juicy flesh, leaving vicious marks, but Mingy doesn't give a shit; you could rip his skin off if he keeps fucking you like a personal doll. His dark, foxy eyes find yours, his beautiful, plump lips are slightly parted, and his balls are clenched, slapping you on the chin. Now you don't even know what to call him. If you thought Song Mingi looked like a wet dream before, then now he's sex itself.

"Damn, damn, damn, doll!" He moans loudly, jerking his hips as his sperm pours into your mouth. As you forcefully swallow the viscous liquid that seems to have no end, your prolonged whimper is distorted. There's so much of his cum that some of it seeps through the corners of your mouth. He continues to slowly fuck your mouth. "Don't waste it, slut." He says it in a threatening voice, and you whimper at the venom in his tone. Mingi uses his long fingers to push his cum between your lips and roughly wipes the wet mess around your mouth. All of his rings are covered in a thin layer of cum and saliva, but you think it's hot.

You blink twice, catch your breath, and the next thing you know, your knees are no longer touching the cold floor, and your face, wet with tears and sperm, is pressed against Professor Song's spotless, cold desk; he has thrown you on the desk like a fucking doll. Fucking hell, that wasn't supposed to turn you on, but God, this man is just driving you crazy. You're too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice that Mingi has lifted your skirt, exposing your wet thong to his gaze. The cold air in the audience causes your hole to clench in reflex and the liquid to squirt out.

You have to clench your fist to keep from squealing as the tight, expensive leather of his belt lands on your bottom with a loud crack. Oh my God, he has just hit you with his belt. Oh shit. Mingi doesn't let you recover; he holds your head against the table with one hand while he slaps your bottom again with the other. The sting of the contact between your soft flesh and the belt makes you squirm and writhe.

"You just sucking my cock, and you're already so wet? You really are a slut. Aren't you?" He smirks as he leans down and sinks his teeth into the flushed skin of your arse before giving you another good spanking. You whimper as Mingi pulls your thong down your trembling legs, long strands of your own slime tugging at the insignificant piece of fabric as he does so. He pushes your buttocks apart so that your plump, flowing pussy is exposed to his hungry eyes.

Mingi picks up your leg, which is bent at the knee, and puts it down on the table. You whimper and grab hold of the edge of the table, embarrassed at how open you are to him at this moment. To be honest, it's the most disgusting feeling—you're embarrassed, but at the same time, you want him to do even more disgusting and humiliating things with you. Professor Song crouches down in front of you and spits into your cunt before licking a long, sloppy strip between your folds. Mingi uses his fingers to push your folds apart and then slides the tip of his tongue into your tight hole, tracing the edge of it.

"Oh, God, sir..." As Mingi eagerly licks your cunt, avoiding your throbbing clit, you let out a long moan and arch your hips towards his tongue. He pulls back abruptly, his heavy hand coming down on your bruised arse to spank you hard before you can get the stimulation you need.

"Did I tell you you could move, huh? You impatient bitch." You whimper at his reproachful tone. You scratch the wood with your fingernails as he spanks you again. "A good student answers the question, Dolly." Mingi hisses, mixing the scalding pain with the pleasure of the spanking, as his hand touches your bottom again. "N-no, sir! You didn't tell me to move! I'm so sorry."

"That's right, doll, but I have a feeling the games are over for today." Professor Song says as he finally gets up to his full height and puts his arm around your neck.

Breathing heavily and hoarsely, Mingi feels the heat emanating from you as he guides his thick cock into your little hole. You let out a loud breath and wonder if his cock will feel like the toy he has given you. Probably not; however much you like it, nothing compares to the warmth and throbbing of a real cock, especially Song Mingi's cock. You squirm as you feel the head of his cock pass slowly between your muscles, a soft howl escaping from your lips. The dildo you used yesterday is nothing compared to Mingi's dick; it feels bigger and thicker, the swollen veins of his cock stretching deliciously along your silky, trembling walls. The urge to hold him inside you is almost irresistible, and you can't help but clench around him. Fuck, and here you thought Mingi couldn't be more slutty and godlike, and you were wondering if his cock had been given special attention during his creation? You let out a loud moan, your tongue flicking out of your mouth, and right now you definitely fit the definition of 'well fucked'. Drops of sweat roll down Mingi's neck, disappearing beneath the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, exposing his hot golden skin and sculpted breasts. Heavy breathing replaces what he's saying, and you feel partly grateful for that. When he finally enters you at the base, the head of his cock touching your cervix and his forehead pressing against your shoulder, you both moan loudly.

"S-Sir, y-you're too big."

Ignoring your whimpering, Mingi grabs you by the hips and immediately sets a brutal but rhythmic pace with you. The objects on his desk shake and fall, shattering on the parquet floor as he fucks you, pressing your body against the desk with the full weight of his body. The fabric rubbing against your hardened nipples sends a pleasant tingle down your spine and makes you shiver from the added stimulation. Your moans grow louder and louder, your cheeks burning, and you can hear his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he thrusts your tight pussy back and forth along the length of his throbbing cock. The humiliation of pouring cream around Professor Song's cock brings tears to your eyes, but at the same time, you come to an almost orgasmic pleasure as he slaps your arse again. The sting stings like a bitch, but it feels fucking unbelievably good.

"That's it, goddamn it. I've been thinking about fucking that tight little cunt for ages. You really are the perfect doll to fuck."

It all makes you dizzy, and you moan "sir" and "daddy" as your pussy sucks him up greedily. You're getting so excited; you don't want to admit it, but you can't help yourself. You can't get enough of Mingi's cock. It feels so good inside you.

"That's my good little girl. You're definitely worth what I've paid for you." Mingi growls in your ear as he pushes harder and harder into your used cunt. He presses down hard on your neck, pinning you to the table, not letting you move, and fucking you relentlessly, his hips moving hard and fast as he takes complete control of your body. Your orgasm starts to form, an intoxicating sensation of rapture coursing through your veins like lava.

"Sir, please! Harder!" You need to cum so badly that you beg him to go harder.

Mingi's eyes were narrow—dark and cruel—and his muscles were quivering and tense from your pathetic begging. He's a professor, and professors always want the best for their students, especially the ones they like best.

"Look at you, begging for my cock like a good little bitch," he says. He accentuates the last word with a strong thrust and plunges so deep into your cunt that you can almost feel the head of his cock entering your cervix. A mixture of incoherent words and intermittent moans escape your lips. Your head falls forward as Professor Song releases your neck to grab your thighs again, leaving more bruises on them.

"Will you cum for me, bitch?" He leans down to your ear and nibbles on your lobe, the slapping of your skin and squishing of your pussy echoing through the empty hall.

"Hell yeah! I'm going to cum for you! I'm going to cum for you, Daddy; I'm going to cum on your cock!" You scream, the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter, and Professor Song fucks your flowing cunt faster and harder.

"Then cum, bunny." He growls, his hips losing their rhythm and jerking, his cock throbbing as thick, hot jets of cum coat the walls of your cunt. He moans your name quietly while your voice is barely audible—a weak, panting whisper, 'Mingi'. Both of your bodies are slowly at rest, revelling in the haze of your orgasms. Soft cries and whimpers escape from your lips, and you shudder as you feel your mixed juices pour out of you, staining the floor that was once so clean. You collapse helplessly on the table, your body going limp, a puddle of saliva pooling under your cheek, and your breathing heavy as you try to clear your mind.

Mingi moans. He bites his plump lip as he comes out of you. You whimper, squirming awkwardly as more cum pours from your pussy. You turn back to look at Professor Song, and your eyes almost pop out of your head as you see him pressing your panties to his nose and moaning loudly and satisfied. He smirks at you vulgarly, licks his lips, and wipes his cock with your underwear before tucking his dick into his trousers, the zip jangling loudly. He dismissively tosses your thong aside and presses against you again, pinning you between the desk and his big muscular body, his hot breath touching your earlobe, before whispering in his deep porn voice.

"Don't think that this is just a one-time thing, doll. I have paid for you, and now you belong to me. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, Professor Song. I understand you perfectly."

"That's good. You're a real teacher's pet. On Monday evening, I will be expecting you for an extra lesson. Don't you dare disappoint me, doll." He slaps your butt once more before he pulls himself away completely and walks out of the classroom.

Oh, this is really fucked up.

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wombywoo · 7 months ago

Note

do you have any ghostsoap favorite fics, perhaps?

boy do I....

I should preface this by saying that I'm pretty...particular with what types of fics I enjoy reading (I only like certain character interpretations/tropes/writing styles, etc) so bear with me...

These are all mostly canon-compliant, non-AUs, ones that I regard highly~

Seasons--by StinglessWasp: This is pretty much my go-to fic rec for anyone into CoD and ghostsoap in general. It showcases everything I love about these characters, in a setting that feels as authentic to the games as possible, while also exploring the depth and sincerity hidden under the surface. So well-written and paced--the dialogue and military references all contribute to that 'feels like a mission out of the game' experience. Plus, I just love this interpretation of our boys--the humor, the inner struggles, the intimacy--Wasp 100% *gets* these characters and it's a joy to read <3

Except You, You Can Stay--by Iravaid: While this one isn't *technically* ghostsoap until the last chapter, in my opinion, it's required reading for anyone who gives a shit about Simon Riley. This is *the* character study--an intimate dissection of Ghost's past that seems so realistic and grounded, you forget how ludicrous those comics really are. Ira takes such care in treating these heavy topics with delicacy and effectiveness. Each chapter has you going 'oh wow, this is even better than the last', but as a whole--it's a stunning, fleshed-out glimpse into Simon as the character he was always meant to be. And the final chapter which eases you into his relationship with Johnny is so authentic and sweet, it just makes perfect sense that they should be together, and that this poor poor man deserves some goddamn love <3

bleeding in the house of god--by revolvermonkcelot: This is a really great 'missing scene' fic, a perfect opportunity to explore the in-between moments that the game so carelessly chooses to gloss over. I can't praise Monk's writing enough--it's slick and crisp and very tasty; the imagery just jumps off the page and you can practically feel the sweat. Plus, the dialogue exchanges between our two boys are so well-timed and in-character--love all the slang and British references~ This whole fic reads like an addition to their mission flirting, and I'm all for it! You can truly tell this author has such deep understanding and experience with this franchise (winkwinkwink, this is a joke) Read it--it's good!

The Dead are all Living--by Kabbal: This fic blew me away when I first read it. It's such a unique take on the retirement trope, I just adore this interpretation of Simon as an aging recluse while he builds his home. I tend to lean towards more subtle, grounded characterizations of Mr Riley, and this really fits the bill. All of these glimpses and fragments into his post-military life contribute to an overarching love story; the scenes with Johnny are so poignant, it's like you're pining alongside them both. I love how not-perfect they are; flawed and difficult and real. There are some moments and lines that just....struck something in me so deeply. I'm sure I'll still be thinking about it for a long long time <3

Portrait of Taction--by a_platypus: Another Simon-centric fic that I absolutely love. The character voice in this is off the charts, I can hear him so vividly in all of his inner dialogue and stunted attempts at conversation. Simon is so endearingly dense in this fic, you're just waiting for him to finally get his act together, but the clumsy, oblivious steps he takes in his relationship with Soap are truly a treat to read. I love this version of Johnny too--confident and considerate, but still hopelessly crushing on his superior. It's comedic, well-written, and the paragraphs describing Soap's journal give some of the best insights into his character I've seen <3

come on, haunt me--by flyby2: This was a really good long fic that I took my time savoring. What could have been a typical 'on leave' fic instead took time to develop a unique spin on the backstories as well as throwing our boys into some wholesome encounters. Both Soap and Ghost felt very true to character, and I appreciate the exploration of PTSD and the subsequent struggles that come along with...all that. There was a really nice balance in having their romance spread across the chapters, and I can promise a very sweet, happy conclusion <3

in the mess of it all--by flowersferns: A lovely one-shot that exhibits some of my favorite aspects of these two characters. I'm a sucker for 'one of them is hurt, the other is freaking out, they are both idiots in love, etc'. There are some really great dialogue and character moments in this, plus the overall prose hits hard. Love this take on their romance--the mutual trust, the familiarity of their bond. And just the general theme of impermanence--the inevitability of what this relationship means for them--two soldiers, willing and ready to sacrifice their lives at a moment's notice, still clinging to each other because...god...that's all they have---big fan of this :'D <3

Lapsus--by Lisbetadair: Another really great one-shot and 'missing scene' fic. The authenticity in the writing is spot-on--it's like you can feel Soap's pain right off the bat. I love how smoothly the banter flows between the two, and the attention to detail and references all help lend to that 'hardened military man' exterior. Ghost smelling like flowers because of a face wipe is such a delightful addition, plus the scene where Soap is, ah, donald-ducking it in just a t-shirt with his jewels out is such a funny mental image, I still think of it fondly from time to time. It's funny, it's surprisingly cute, it's very in-character. Stick around for some awkward but adorable cuddles <3

I'm sure I have more to recommend, but these are the ones I can personally endorse for now~

#asks #fic rec #I've never actually done a fic rec list like this before...#a small glimpse into my nightly routine of browsing the ao3 trenches for something remotely readable 🫡#funny how most of these are Ghost centric...#I'm *very* particular on how I prefer Soap to be portrayed and wooo boy...is it a struggle 😔

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burnthatbridge · 8 months ago

Text

if you love him let him go (if you love him let him know)

pre-buddie, bucktommy | T | 3k | angst, pining tommy needs to tell eddie something not on ao3 atm because i can't figure out if this is done or if i'm continuing it - please let me know your thoughts! now on ao3 because i hate not having all my fic in one place

“Can I get you another beer, man?”

Eddie checks his watch. It’s only a little after nine thirty. He’s kind of hoping to get home before Chris goes to sleep, but he’ll not be heading to bed any time soon, will likely stay up later than Eddie. Friday night means he disregards his supposed bedtime — not that he sticks to it that well on school nights, now he’s sixteen. “Sure, thanks.”

Tommy nods, disappears into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a can of IPA in one hand, a bottle of lager in the other. They’ve already finished the six-pack Eddie brought over, but trust Buck — well, Buck and Tommy — to have Eddie’s favorite beer in their fridge. Tommy hands over the can, already cracked open, and Eddie takes a sip as Tommy settles down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t turn to face the TV, sits twisted towards Eddie instead, but he does pick up the remote and turn down the volume, the post-fight commentary rendered nearly unintelligible.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eddie twists towards Tommy himself, something not-quite-anxious-but-almost flaring in his chest. Over the years they have been friends, he and Tommy have spoken about lots of things, including those not so easy to discuss: their respective experiences in the army, Tommy’s tough childhood, Eddie’s difficult parents, the hard aspects of the job. But they’ve all been topics that have come up naturally, raised organically. Tommy has never led into anything with such a pointed opener before.

Eddie studies him. He has one knee pulled up on the couch cushion, foot poking out off the end, the other foot planted on the floor, nearly parallel to the base of the couch. One arm is up on the backrest, the other relaxed, beer bottle in that hand, resting on his thigh, dripping condensation painting a charcoal ring on his — probably Buck’s, in fact, given how tight the fabric is stretched over the muscle of his leg — grey sweats. He’s not tense, but he’s not smiling, and there’s something about his expression that Eddie can’t place. It’s not that he hasn’t seen this look before, because he’s pretty sure he has, witnessed it in flickers across numerous occasions over the years, there and then gone, present for but a heartbeat. But he’d never known what it meant any of those times and he certainly doesn’t now.

“'Course,” Eddie says, when Tommy doesn’t go on, seems to be waiting for some kind of sign. Then adds, feeling like it’s necessary given the gravity he can feel pulling this lightsome evening down to something more serious. “Anything.”

Tommy sighs, bites his lip like he doesn’t want to speak, even though he’s the one who said he wanted to talk, then shakes his head and takes a pull of his beer.

“Is everything okay?” Eddie’s starting to feel worried now. He mentally scans back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if Tommy has mentioned anything about work that could be a problem. He saw him at basketball last week, and nothing had seemed off. Plus, Buck hasn’t said anything. Not that he’d necessarily tell Eddie about an issue Tommy was having, not if Tommy wanted it kept private, but Eddie can usually tell when Buck’s concerned about someone, and he hasn’t picked up on anything, not at all.

But maybe this isn’t about a problem Tommy is having. Maybe this is a Buck problem, something Buck has kept from Eddie. It would make sense why Tommy would bring it up with him; sometimes a concerted, multi-person effort is the only way to get through to Buck. And Tommy’s more likely to bring in Eddie first, and then expand the team to include Maddie, Chim, more, as needed.

“Is Buck okay?” Eddie asks, something like panic constricting his throat, making the words come out a little strangled.

Tommy actually laughs at that, a small, choked thing, an exhale of sound and air. He shakes his head again, but not a no. More like an extension of the laugh, a motion to accompany it, to better convey the disbelief — not humor — contained in it. “He’s fine.”

It’s a relief to hear. Buck had seemed physically okay, when Eddie had seen him briefly before he left the house, since he’d maybe purposefully waited to order his Uber until Buck pulled up in his jeep outside, despite Christopher’s insistence he didn’t need to wait for Buck to arrive, despite the fact that his kid is more than old enough to be left in the house alone for the twenty minutes it would have taken Buck to drive over, while Eddie was ferried the opposite way. But there could still have been something, Buck could have been fighting through pain, much better at hiding any hurt of his body than he is at masking his emotional distress.

“But,” Tommy says, and that one word is enough to have Eddie’s muscles tightening once more, “It is Evan I wanted to talk about.”

Again, Tommy doesn’t follow it up with anything. Eddie has found, in their time as friends, that Tommy is not often a man lost for words. Quite the opposite, in fact. He usually says what he means, means what he says, and is an expert at listening and delivering sage advice. This reticence– it doesn’t feel like it bodes well, has the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck prickling.

“Alright,” Eddie says, a feeble prompt. “So, Buck?”

Tommy nods, like he’s gearing himself up for something, to face a challenge, to take a punch. Eddie is expecting something bad, so the words he says catch him even more off guard than they would have. “I want to ask Evan to marry me.”

Maybe if Tommy had seemed eager, excited, when he turned to him, Eddie could have anticipated the blow, could have felt a creeping suspicion this is where Tommy was headed, could have been provided with enough of a heads-up to brace himself. As it is, he doesn’t see the hit coming, takes it full force to the chest, so hard it steals his breath, knocks the wind from him. His mouth goes slack, and he feels his fingers slide against the slippery sides of his beer can, almost spills it over Tommy and Buck’s lounge carpet before he gets a hold on it, on himself. He forces himself to smile. “That’s– that’s great,” he makes himself say, only faintly aware that Tommy isn’t smiling back, like this moment should call for. “Did you–” he swallows around the bile climbing his esophagus, “Do you want help planning the proposal?” He wishes he could take the words back the second they’re out. Because this — just hearing that Tommy wants to ask Buck — is torture enough. To be involved with it, to help enable it, Eddie will be lucky if it doesn’t kill him. Maybe not his body, but certainly his soul.

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “No, I want to ask him to marry me. But I’m not going to. At least, not now.”

Eddie squints at him. The news that Tommy wants to marry Buck might hurt Eddie, but it’s not exactly surprising. Eddie’s seen how much Tommy cares for him in the years they’ve been together, has seen the way he looks at him, the way they look at each other. Has felt the way it burns him, the scorching heat of flame, the searing cold of ice. He doesn’t understand what Tommy is saying, doesn’t understand why this proclamation seems not to be a happy one. “Why not?” Eddie asks, almost grateful for the opportunity to present confusion, curiosity, rather than forced pleasure at the thought of one of his closest friends and his– best friend marrying each other. “You guys are serious. I mean, you live together.”

Tommy huffs another laugh, still more disbelief than humor, really the opposite of humor. “His lease was up.”

“Right. But he chose not to renew it. He chose to move in with you,” Eddie says, slow, struggling to understand, the pounding of his pulse not helping him think clearly, see through the puzzle that is everything Tommy has said so far and the way he has said it.

“He was never going to renew it,” Tommy tells him.

And that’s– that’s something Eddie didn’t know. He hates it when he learns information about Buck from Tommy, always has, even though he fights with everything in him not to feel like that. Tommy is Buck’s boyfriend, of course he’s going to know things about him that Eddie doesn’t, know him in a way that Eddie doesn’t.

“We hadn’t spoken about living together,” Tommy says, eyes on Eddie. “But he’d said he thought the loft was too expensive and he was spending nearly every night at mine by that point. When he wasn’t on shift. Or at yours.” Eddie pulls his eyes away, takes a sip from his beer for something to do, even though the bitter taste is turning his stomach. “He said he wasn’t going to renew it, that he’d look for somewhere new, cheaper. But this was too close to the end of his lease to find a place before he had to move out. I asked where he was going to stay in the meantime.”

“And he said with you,” Eddie guesses, more a statement than a question.

But Tommy shakes his head. A smile curls his lips but his eyes– his eyes don’t match. “He said he’d crash on your couch, actually.”

Eddie takes another mouthful of beer, holds it there, on the back of his tongue. He didn’t know any of this. Buck would, of course, have been more than welcome. Likely why he hadn’t asked in advance, why he planned for it without seeking permission.

“I said he could stay with me, instead. That he’d be able to sleep in a bed here.” Eddie swallows, the beer somehow thick and cloying in a way that it shouldn’t be. “And then when he started making noises about looking for a new place, I told him he should stay.”

While it’s not how Eddie had, unwillingly, pictured it in his head — Tommy and Buck mutually agreeing that Buck shouldn’t renew his lease, deciding they wanted to live together — it still doesn’t explain what Tommy has said. “And he did stay,” Eddie says. “So, why aren’t– Does Buck not want to get married?” But that can’t be it, that can’t be right. Eddie is certain Buck does want to be married, only he’d tried hard not to think of Buck wanting that with Tommy, with anyone. Anyone else.

“No, he does,” Tommy confirms it. He leans over and deposits his beer on the coffee table. Then sits back, still turned to Eddie, but arms crossed over his chest, like a protection of himself. “We’ve spoken about it, discussed it. And he’s told me he’s always wanted that, to get married, to be part of a family.” Tommy pops one hand out of the fold of his arms to hold it up, out, quelling, like Eddie has protested. He hasn’t, but his heart is doing something approximating a riot at the idea of Tommy being Buck’s family. “And I know he has a family. He knows he does. In you and Chris, in Maddie and Jee, in the 118. But–” Tommy breaks off, tips his head to the side, gaze boring into Eddie’s face so strong that Eddie wishes he could turn away, duck and run. “You know how much he’s always wanted to belong somewhere.”

He does, Eddie thinks, the thought almost violent in its intensity. He belongs with me. Except, he doesn’t. Not really, not how Eddie wants, not the way he does with Tommy.

“And I want that for him,” Tommy goes on, tucking his hand back in, squeezing his arms tighter about himself. Eddie’s never seen him like this, hunched in on himself, curled small. Tommy is usually so open, larger than life. “I want to be the one to give that to him.”

Eddie wants to be the one to give that to him. Desires it desperately, a secret need he’s tucked as far inside himself as he can. He can feel it now, raging to be let out, to be set free. But he can’t, he won’t. Buck is with Tommy, he’s happy with Tommy. Tommy who is so warm and kind and good, Tommy who is better than Eddie in every conceivable way, who brings so much to Buck’s life, who gives all of himself to Buck. Who wants to give him even more. Wants to, but apparently won’t.

Eddie doesn’t understand. “Then, if you want to, why won’t you ask him?” he questions, trying to.

“If I ask him now, he’ll say no.” Tommy states it like indisputable fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that Buck would refuse him.

Eddie shakes his head, understanding even less. “But he loves you.”

Tommy smiles again, then, larger than he had before, but as devoid of happiness, as empty of cheer. This smile hurts to see, reflects the way Eddie felt inside when Tommy had said I want to ask Evan to marry me. “I know he does.” Tommy’s tone is sure, but wistful. “But he loves you more.”

It’s like– It’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt. Or maybe it’s like everything he’s ever felt. The shock of a residual lightning bolt, the joy of being a part of the 118, the pain of a bullet ripping through his shoulder, the awe of holding his son for the first time. Eddie wants Tommy’s words to be true maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything. But he also cannot believe them, has no trust that they are true. Because they can’t be. Buck loves Tommy. Not Eddie.

“We’re friends. Best friends,” Eddie points out. “Of course, he– he loves me. But not more. Not like he loves you. He’s in love with you.”

Tommy sighs, arms uncrossing, palms coming to rest on his thighs, body taking on a posture Eddie is familiar with, the one he falls into when he’s talking someone through something, the one he adopted when Eddie came out to him some six months ago. “Eddie, he’s in love with you.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear, but coming from the wrong lips. Spoken by not by Buck himself but by Buck’s boyfriend, oh god. “He isn’t. Tommy, he can’t be.”

But Tommy is nodding, nodding like what he’s said is true, like he wants Eddie to believe it.

“He’s not,” Eddie says, hears the denial, the disbelief spill from him. Buck doesn’t love him. He doesn’t. But Eddie– Eddie loves– “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, almost a gasp. “Tommy, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Tommy cuts him off. “I knew what I was getting into. When I started seeing Evan, I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. I just–” Tommy sighs again, scrubs his palms along his thighs. “I didn’t expect it to get this far. I thought we’d just be a fun, easy thing. Something to ease Evan into his sexuality, that new part of himself. I didn’t expect it to go like this. I didn’t expect to feel like this.” Tommy closes his eyes, lashes falling to his cheeks. He breaths in and out, while Eddie’s own breath is caught in his chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, he says, “But I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to love him.”

Fuck. Tommy knows. Because Eddie does. He loves Buck, loves him so endlessly he doesn’t know where the feeling starts and where it ends. Doesn’t know when it started; doesn’t think it will ever end. “I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, needing to say the words again, needing Tommy — his friend — to hear them.

Tommy lifts one palm from his thigh, his wrist pressing into the muscle as he cuts his fingers to the side in a dismissal. “Don’t apologize for it. I’m certainly not going to. I’m never going to be sorry for loving him.” He drops his hand back down, pats his leg, emphasis of the point. “But it is a problem.” He smiles, rueful. “I thought I’d be able to break up with him, if he didn’t break up with me. I should have, ages ago. I certainly should have when you came out.”

Eddie, selfishly, had hoped Buck would break up with Tommy then. But it had seemed like a farfetched fantasy. He had told Buck he was queer after Buck had already moved in with Tommy. He’d admitted it to himself, to Frank, before that, but hadn’t told anyone else for weeks. In hindsight, sometimes he figures he’d left it too late, but most of the time he didn’t think it would have made a difference at all. But now, with what Tommy has told him, maybe it would have. It’s a knife sliding between Eddie’s ribs to think maybe. Maybe.

“But I didn’t.” Tommy looks resigned, shoulders drooping.

“Why are you telling me this?” Eddie needs to know. It seems like Tommy has known for years that Eddie has loved Buck. Loves Buck. I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. So why is he only bringing it up now?

“Because I didn’t. Because I can’t. I can’t break up with him. But I want to move forward. And I want to do so with him, for us to further our life together. But if I ask him to marry me when he doesn’t know for sure that you’re not an option, he’ll say no.”

Fear freezes Eddie’s insides. “So, what– what are you asking me to do?” Because Tommy is asking something of Eddie, wants something. Something Eddie fears he will have to make himself give.

Tommy straightens up, shoulders rolling back. He’s serious, solemn but not demanding or pleading when he says it. A devastating request. “I’m asking you, as my friend, to let him go.”

Eddie could be sick, he thinks, could vomit up the three and a quarter beers and the half a dozen chicken wings he’s consumed since he got to Tommy and Buck’s place. Could spill the mess of his insides up all over himself, all over Tommy, all over their lives. Tommy is his friend, was his friend before he was ever Buck’s boyfriend. Eddie should do this thing for him. Should give Buck his blessing to marry Tommy, give Buck up, give him over, completely, to this man who has loved him so well for the past three years. Eddie should; in his gut he knows it would be the right thing to do. But his heart– his heart is in revolt. It’s Buck. He loves him. How can he ever let him go?

Tommy leans forward, places a hand on Eddie’s leg, squeezes his fingers around the ball of his kneecap, until Eddie lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. “Or,” he says, somehow even more serious, “I am telling you, as your friend, to go and get him.”

#do we need to see where this goes next?#or is it good as is?#these are the questions that haunt me #(also i am totally avoiding writing chapter 5 of my wip please don't kill me)#buddie #bucktommy #buddie fic #bucktommy fic #911 fic #911 #911 abc #myfic

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delugguk · 2 years ago

Text

Only Mine, Nobody Else's.

pair: jungkook x reader.

genre: stablished relationship, smut, fluff.

word count: 5.4K

warnings: unprotected sex.

summary: there's you, who finds little things like eating perilla leafs as normal. then there's him,who finds such topics as horrendous. for him, this type of convos shouldn't even exist. so who'll win this battle? it's better to find out, now.

a/n: hellooooo here's the alternative version of THIS. finally!! I wrote this the same day I published the first drabble but never got to finish it until now, so I hope you enjoy this hehe. I really love them ㅠㅠ but I'll shut up now and enjoy their cute dynamics 😩 I'm sorry I took toooooo long to post but my irl schedule is kinda ass :( LET ME KNOW YALL REACTIONS!! I do appreciate it 👉🏼👈🏼🥺

everything can happen during dinner but.. let me explain, okay?

when you start a topic.. normally, your smart and super interesting boyfriend rambles around until he can't stop his pretty mouth from moving - not that you complained though, you adore listening to him.

but as interesting as it could be, there was some nights were each topic jumped from fun conversations to.. sudden serious ones.

like tonight.

A new trend has seemed to flow around socials making everyone have these interesting conversations that.. you're not really sure if you vibe with them to be honest - but it is what it is as soon as seho, jungkook's best friend, brings this topic to the table.

and yep, you wanted to chop his balls right in that moment.

you could swear you were having a good time until that moment came. you and jungkook were oblivious to the matter for some reason so when you're having dinner with your friends, this sudden theme really got you out off guard because you just knew how jungkook was gonna get.

"so what is it about?" jungkook asked and now that you think about it, you wished he could just.. not pay attention but.. oh well.

"well, it's basically a question about.. you letting somebody else help your girlfriend separate her perilla leaf-"

"hell nah." jungkook cuts him out of his sentence.

damn.

"wait.." seho's chuckles, "you didn't even let me finish and you're already prohibiting that from happening." finding the situation funny.

you only ironically rolled your eyes with an ironic smile too.

"you make questions knowing well the way he is.." you say but it wasn't annoying.

"what's love if there's not a little spice to it?" he laughs. oh you hated him.

not really. but you know what I mean.

jungkook's just listening until he began to speak with a cocky grin. "do you really think I'll let y/n get feed by another man?" a small scoff of a laugh leaving his mouth, "yeah sure." as he brushes his hair back with both hands.

just laying back on his sofa, casually looking so fine. but this wasn't the time to think about that.

"It doesn't necessarily have to be a man, you know? It's just any other friend." says yoongi.

"whatever, I don't care. I wont allow it."

you chuckle. "mm.. why not?" sounding more curious, but you really wanted to know why he is so against it. "I don't see nothing wrong about sharing food?"

"not this way??"

"exactly?" seho's following just after jungkook.

"you, shut up." you point at seho. - now looking back at jungkook, "what do you mean 'this way'?"

"mm.. babe, this isn't just something you can share, you know?"

"but.. why not?"

both him and seho sigh. but just before they could talk, luckily, the theme dies as soon as yoongi successfully changes the topic to some stupid funny video he saw these days.

the fact that seho knows about jungkook's possessive/jealous behaviours makes this worst. they're like best friends, for god's sake.

after that little moment, not even a single wrinkle of happiness painted on your boyfriend's face but a slight eyebrow furrowing instead and it's just that his reaction to the matter was... priceless.

jungkook had so much to say but so little to think.. completely blinded by the thought of someone feeding his girl, this obviously wasn't going to end here.

..and you both knew it.

when you arrive to your apartment, jungkook didn't wasted any time to continue your conversation and it's just that.. he was so predictable sometimes, or maybe you knew him too well.

"what did you meant about that?" his voice sounds genuinely curious when he closes the door behind you.

"about.. what?" taking off your jacket as you respond, he smacks his lips in annoyance.

"you know what I'm talking aboutㅡ bam, hi" voice suddenly changing into a whisper-y cute tone when he kneels down to kiss his son.

"..hm?" and as he gets up, he takes your hand leading into the living room.

he seats first. tattooed hand giving little soft but strong palms at the other side of the sofa when he motions you to seat beside him.

when you cross your legs, you give yourself just the perfect enough space between him and you just so you don’t get any other contact with his dangerous body 'cause right now this wasn't your sweet, sweet boyfriend at his best. - not that he’ll do something bad to you, but because you were very weak when it came to having him close..

"are we.. really having this conversation?”

blinking many times as if it wasn't obvious, "uh.. yeah??" he answers.

you sigh. "okay." pausing, "shoot."

"do you really not care?"

"about what? food?"

he glances at you.

you exhale. "It's not that I don't care. It's more of me.. thinking it's not that serious."

his mouth drops into a little gasp. "how isn't it that serious? my friend could easily be feeding you.. you."

"so?"

"so???" he feels so offended. "are you really-"

"no, okay, wait. I do care about that. I dont agree about them feeding me. I don't like that either.. what the hell." you confirm because you realize. "what I'm trying to say is, they won't be feeding me."

"how?"

"because they will just help me separate the leafs, silly. they don't necessarily have to give them in my mouth?"

"but most people do. unconsciously."

"you do?"

"yes. and I think you can tell. I always do it with you."

"but that's because we're dating.."

"it's because I like you. romantically, silly." he flicks your head, making you blink.

"of course, so that makes sense!" you say. "I don't think a random friend will-- wait, friends can also do it if they like you.. as a friend?"

"uh-uh” he nods his head. “that doesn't exist when it comes to this food."

"what's so different about this?"

"you really don't know, huh?"

nodding your head, you shrink your shoulders as you keep silent for a few seconds and he crosses both his arms looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“what?” you playfully exclaimed as you’re also confused but jungkook just pushes his hair back once again, taking a big breather followed with an exhale. “babe," you continue, hands cupping his face. “tell me.” as your face gets closer, eyes trying to read his.

"they could touch your lips with the tip of his fingers." he says. big pupils staring at your lips when he’s soon piercing your gaze.

you do notice. butterflies in your stomach, god.

“no, they won't."

"yes they will and I can't let that happen."

you sigh. "babe, is not that big of a deal. you act as if that will make me fall in love with them.” then you pause to say, "which, it would never happen, by the way."

"but you could."

"no, I won't." you affirm.

"yes? you would." but he keeps being stubborn..

"no? I wouldn't?"

you both pause staring at each other and you roll your eyes.

"I still stand with what I said during dinner though." leaning back on his seat, you’re not longer cupping his face.

"honey, me helping your friend or my friend isn't going to change anything."

"you never know.."

"I think you should stop watching too many dramas. their messing with your little head." you playfully say while softly pulling one of his hair strings.

but he rolls his eyes. "how can you say that?" starting his funny drama. "those things definitely doesn't affect the way I think.." he pauses. "but If that was the case, then they'll be totally right because If it happens in dramas it could happen in real life."

"You're delusional.."

"No I'm not?"

"..and you want me to take you seriously?”

“babe.” jungkook warns, voice sharp.

“okay, okay..” you side smile. “I get it.”

“can you listen to me?”

"always."

"you can't.. you can't still do it for him or anybody that isn't me." he’s serious but his voice is so endearing..

taking a deep breath, you rest one hand against your cheek when you look directly into his eyes. "why though?"

"because I say so."

"mm… that still don’t help."

"yeah, it does."

"you can't just give me that answer as your reason why?"

"just did."

you lightly punch his shoulder. "jungkook!"

he laughs.

“you’re being childish right now.” you fake cry.

"okay, okay.." breathing, he goes back to being serious. "either way you still can't help."

rolling your eyes for the 281 time, you annoyingly respond with, "are you going to keep saying that?" pausing. "like is this about you thinking that's how I'll end up falling in love with somebody else? or… what?”

"mm.. yeah?" he's sarcastic. "Isn't it obvious?"

"how is it obvious?" you frown your eyebrows.

"because he'll give you one perilla leaf and you know how.. when somebody can't separate them, sometimes there's have to be another person to help, right?" he breathes as you nod. "well.. that person is, of course, you!" he argues, "and that could make you end up holding hands with him!”

"I- what?" he's unbelievable.

“as soon as I blink!" he continues - pointing at his eyes. "he has already taking you away from me!"

your reaction is.. well, you don’t even know how to react as he says all of this. only thing that could leave your mouth was, "jungkook.. you can't be serious now.."

"well I am?" he’s all pouty and annoying but you needed to make him understand your point of view and that’s all you think when his hands are lightly hitting his own thighs in frustration.

"well, that's ridiculous." now you’re the one leaning back into your side of the sofa.

"It is not?!"

"It is, and it doesn't even makes sense. I won't hold somebody's hand just because they helped me?" you blink several times as something that’s so obvious.

"but- how can you say that? this does makes sense and it can totally happen!"

then pausing, you decide to tease him instead even though you’re still serious. “are you, perhaps.. talking by experience? ..and that's why you're saying this to me?"

"no!” hands brushing his own face in frustration. "that's not why I'm saying this."

"then why you get so mad about it? It doesn't make sense to me. explain how it works because I do not understand and believe me when I say I'm having a hard time trying to." giving up, you give him a good opportunity to make you understand his point of view in full detail but that’s only if he want it though. you weren’t going to force him to do anything.

he was clear of it.

as soon as you said that, jungkook takes a short time of silence to think. rubbing his chin, rubbing his face.. you can clearly see he's really making up his mind for the way he keeps zooming out into his complex mind.

that could be pretty sometimes.

"let’s say.." he quickly nibbles his lip ring as his dimples slightly pronounce more and that's when you confirm for the second time that he wants to make this right. "..you have a friend, a girl friend.” you nod as he speaks. “and she needs help to separate all of her perilla leafs.."

"Aha.." you slowly nod your head.

"would you like it if I help? It'll take a lot of time.." his eyes feel so heavy looking at yours like he really wants you to say what he think is the right answer..

"..yes?"

but your answer is still very.. unbothered and that makes jungkook open his mouth with both hands on his head in a dramatic manner.

"yes???" he’s back to being exalted. “that’s really your answer?” he chuckles but it’s not even a friendly one. more of a sarcastic one.

“I mean.. what do you want me to say?! I just think it’s normal?”

“n-normal?” and there’s that sarcastic grin all over again. “why.”

"because.. it's just food?"

he covers his face in disbelief. "but I'm the one giving it to them.." he pauses. "Isn't it like if I was deeply caring for them? that's why it's wrong! It can look bad."

"not for me.." you look around.

he sighs for the 10th time smacking his lips as he reveals, "babe, you can't help others with perilla leafs because it'll look like you have second intentions with them."

"who said that?" now you're the one rolling your eyes.

jungkook sighs, rubbing his eyes. "it’s something to flirt about.”

“flirt?”

“yeah." he leans his body a little closer to yours, staring at your eyes almost intensely. you felt tension. not a bad one necessarily.

"have you done that?" genuine question.

"no!" he whines with the same pout on his lips. "why do you keep asking me this?”

“genuinely curious.. and you’re saying a lot of things.” you say.

he rolls his eyes. “I know a lot of people that do it..”

“how?”

"well.." he takes one of your hands to caress it while he speaks, "you know how hard they are to separate, right?"

"yeah..?"

"you normally will have to lean closer to that person in order to do so." he pauses. eyes piercing at yours when his voice goes two tones down. "people like closeness."

you nervously clear your throat. "ah.. yeah," immediately changing the direction this was taking— "so.. imagine we're eating on a cute restaurant-“ you fix your posture and jungkook only grins to himself. he has made you feel nervous.

he liked that.

“…with a friend, it doesn't matter if it's a woman or man” he nods, paying attention to your words. “and I can't help like you said.."

“aha..?”

“if I’m minding my business in that situation but my friend needs help, does that mean you’ll be the one helping them?”

"of course not." tone? annoyed and very serious.

"why not?"

"because I don't care if it's a woman or man, I shouldn't be helping anybody that isn't you. MY girlfriend."

that kinda made your stomach flip, let's not lie here.

"but then who'll help them eat?"

"nobody."

"jungkook!" you call him out.

but all he does is shrink his broad shoulders. “what? It's easy! nobody helps them! don't they have arms of their own?" he annoyingly responds.

"but that's so ass. it's not like you're giving them food directly into their mouth?!"

"..and? I still don't care! If I say you shouldn't then you shouldn't."

you raise your eyebrows. “okay boss?”

jungkook exhales, “I'm not saying that. but.. it’s just what's obvious? I can't help either and we're dating."

"..and you're possesive."

"I'm not possessive.

"yes, you are."

"okay, maybe a little but I'm not most of the time."

and that makes you laugh for sure. “see how you shamelessly lie to yourself, gosh.”

now he’s the one raising his eyebrows. “lie? do you want to know what’s a real lie?” he questions.

“yes.” you sarcastically smile.

“the fact that I don’t want to fuck for your stupid answers and the way that I hate how my solution to this has to be to fuck you silly.” then he whispers to himself, “fuck.” really wanting that to happen.

you were frozen, didn’t expected him to say all that. he’s surely crazy too because why did he had to say it while having that nasty smile on his face? why.

“then why don’t you act on it?” you tease back.

“because that’s a “lie”. he smirks, “told you I’ll say a real lie.”

“I hate you.”

“no, you don’t.” he smiles but then, goes back to the main theme. “listen to me, doing that.. I just think it’s thoughtful. like you’re clearly showing you deeply care for that person, you know?” then he pouts, “from my point of view.. we should be the only ones helping each other.. nobody else.”

you sigh. “okay.. I see what you mean. but I still think it depends on how you perceive it though.”

“fine, now you’re the one who needs to explain.” he said that with a slightly annoyed tone that made you chuckle.

“I think you keep seeing it as something romantic and that’s why you can’t accept it.”

“..and you think it’s not?”

“if I considered that to be romantic you think I’ll be reacting this way?”

“…no..”

“there’s your answer.” you smile.

"just.." he exhales. "take care of me and me only, yeah?" plastering his forehead against yours, his palms holds your cheeks ever so delicately when he says, "I will not feel comfortable if you take care of others in that manner when you have me. specially me. your boyfriend." voice so soft while pointing at himself and god, does he was really cute sometimes. "…would you like it if I took care of your friends?"

and at that question you take your time to think.

"I think it depends on the person too, jungkook.."

"why?" he responds as he is genuily curious.

"because.. Imagine if the friend we’re eating with needs help with their perilla but let’s say I’ve eaten that many times with them and everything was always fine,” jungkook nods his head as he carefully listens. “..so in this case, since they’re my friend I know them the most right?”

"yeah."

“but they’re asking for help, your help, when I know they could handle themselves just right..”

“I see where this is going..” there’s a little building smile on jungkooks lips.

“me seeing them acting dumb just so you could help them— of course that’ll make me definitely jealous.”

"you see?!" he suddenly raises his voice in excitement. "that's what I'm saying!" smiling brightly at you.

"but I'll be more mad because of you not noticing this person second intentions!" you defend yourself. "and because my friend must know I'm obviously dating you!"

"but see? you'll still get jealous, and this just meansㅡperilla leafs could lean into romance! you basically said it yourself! It's a way of flirting.." he says, looking very triumphant.

and at his reaction, you just roll your eyes smiling through it because you can't help it at this point.

"yeah..whatever!" you rapidly correct yourself in which he laughs. "all I'm saying is.. that I could only get jealous in circumstances like these because then I'll know this friend is obviously shamelessly flirting with you."

"but I wouldn't be falling in love with them." he says.

then suddenly, being caught off guard, you blink. “meaning… that you’ll help?”

"nope, I still wouldn't." he warmly says. "since I can't be comfortable with you doing it, I have to keep on my word. I can't do things that I wouldn't like someone do to me." then he adds, "and I would not fall in love with them, because I love you." he finishes saying when he plays with your fingers and his eyes tenderly lingers at yours.

"but.. you never know." voice small, you shyly say.

"no, I'm clear of it." affirming with a confident side smile. "I only have eyes for you, love." he says, gently grabbing one of your hands to leave a lingering kiss on top of it when your eyes can’t stop looking at his sweet actions. you do adored him so much..

"shit, I can't even look at other girls if it isn't you. I love you too damn much." he then chuckles when your laugh merges with his.

lovey dovey eyes staring at his.. “I love you too..”

with a smile on your lips, he mirrors your face too.

that night you both ended up fall sleep hugging each other on his big sofa. you thought you couldn’t get more comfortable than this.

the other night though..

“should I fuck you? nah… I don’t think you deserve it.”

you must’ve seen this coming. eager times always results into this. mostly when a jealous jungkook was very much present. you couldn’t believe how you were so easily lured into his words but the more you get to know and see the new sides of your boyfriend, the more you fell in love and the more you get turned on by him.

you couldn’t resist him in situations like these and it’s just that a jealous jungkook wasn’t just something you got to see everyday. he is normally pretty chill, but whenever he wasn’t.. oh boy.

…you whine with that. "Jungkook.."

"Jungkook, what? now you wanna beg?" a smug grin paints his lips.

you whine as you try to squeeze your legs.

"mm-uh." he opens your legs once again. "don't even dare to take this view away from me."

"but I'm so wet.."

"I know baby. but I can't fuck you if you keep playing around when I'm so serious." he pauses and gives you a hungry daring stare. "dead serious."

"I won't let anyone else fuck me if it isn't you."

"are you sure about that?"

"one hundred percent."

"No lies?"

"No lies."

and he smiles when a finger slides through your clit up and down teasing on it. "torturing you is like torturing me.." he sighs. "fucking wet." licking his lips. "want to eat you again."

"no," you fake cry still feeling his now, moist fingers. "fuck me. I want you to fuck me."

"is that so?"

"eunggg"

“you will have to keep waiting then.” he smirks before going down on you all over again.

"fuck, I love eating your pussy so much. always so wet and greedy for me." his voice’s raspy when he spits on it, just adding more into your dripping pussy. "I love making a mess out of you." he groans.

his tongue rapidly moves up and down as he adds a certain weight on it that makes you want to scream your lungs out. - making out with your clit, one finger slides caressing your folds very teasingly.

"jungkook.." you cry.

"what, baby?" he lowly breathes, eating your cunt still. just this time looking up at you.

when you look down the sight is just so fucking hot. your hands hold onto his hair as he gives you those puppy but very dominant eyes. he loves teasing you like this. he knows how much you love when he treats you like this.

"babe.." your hips thrust into his mouth. as you expose your neck to him.

jungkook leaves a slow kiss into your clit very sensually. "fuck.." he sighs as your arousal mixed with his saliva, dripped down your ass. your pussy pulsating and clenching like crazy. "what do you want?" voice raspy.

"fucking make me cum, babe. please" you whine, trying to touch your clit with your fingers the moment jungkook stopped eating you. - he takes his hands off you.

"not yet baby.. can't let you cum just yet." he sensually and very much needy bites his lower lip. piercing just shining. him very full of desire, just wanted to slide his hard dick along your wet folds. he wanting to feel you coating his length. make a mess out of you, make you beg for him to get fucked - to want him to destroy you. he wanted you to be left thinking about him only, to let you know how you were his and his only even though he was pretty sure he couldn't claim a person, neither you. but he still very much wanted to. he wanted you to scream you were his and his only. he wanted to have you whole. he also wanted to punish you for ever thinking about having help for someone else but him. is not like nobody could help you but why would you ask or need another person's help when he was right there? it made no fucking sense.

he could be seems as calm and collected from outside but his want and need into wanting to ruin you, begging for him until his name could be marked onto your skin were just fucking growing so much. he wished he could just have you like this forever.

"you make me fucking crazy. I shouldn't even be treating you like this. I should let your fucking pussy scream for me. be left untouched until it's begging for me to be touched." he murmurs, palming himself with one hand as his other one rest on your thight and his legs keep yours spread out enough to feel every blow of breeze as he constantly slaps his dick on your clit from time to time and the sticky sounds going in and out of his head made him want to devour you and swallow you whole. he felt feral, his point of possessiveness getting the best of him but fuck, you deserved this. he needed to show you to fucking behave and not say that stupid shit in front of him -or anyone- ever again. It shouldn't even be a topic of conversation at this point. It should be obvious too.

so that's why he's sliding his thick length along your slit and juices, hissing and cursing to himself a lot - closing his eyes every now and then because his desire into fucking your sopping pussy was getting into him.

"I fucking want you all to myselfㅡfuck." he moans. "I can't let nobody else see you like this." he then exhales, tilting his head back while closing his eyes. "only me.. fuck."

"I want to fuck you so bad but you don't deserve it." he tortures himself.

you cry and move your hips along him for more friction and it's so sticky between both your genitals, you feel so horny for him.

"why do you do this to me.." his lidded eyes gazes at you. "..hm?" he slaps one of your thighs. "you want me to fuck you stupid?" he takes both your legs, placing them at the side of his shoulders. "Is that what you want?" he pants, voice heavy and gone while he continues teasing his tip between your folds. "fffuck.. tell me - baby.. do you want me to fuck you so bad?"

"nngn yes.." you cry, feeling very hot and needy for him. your hips keep moving with tip and the feeling was so hot.. you were so wet it was an absolute mess down there. "babyㅡfuck. fuck me please.. fuck me." you beg.

"tell me how bad you want me to." he watches as his dick masturbates along your legs. he starts slow, later on hard when he's already starting moving his dick back and forth, pressing a bit hard on your pussy between your folds. "should I let you have it?" he scoff clicking his lips and a grin playing along. his legs also getting sticky with your arousal. "I don't think so.." he teases.

"baby please.." you arch your back, body distorting, nipples very much erect, your own hand squeezed your boob. shit, you wanted him so fucking bad. "I won'tㅡah. I won't do that again." you look at him with pleading doe eyes.

"do what?" he dares. eyes cloudy as he glances at his tip rubbing against your needy pulsating clitoris.

"ask stupid questions like that ever again." you moan as you try to open your legs but he keeps them close to his neck, adding more pressure to his dick. breathing hard.

"stupid, huh?" he rasps, chuckling a little about it. lidded eyes piercing at you. his tip moving a little more sensual and faster along your clitoris. He gives small slaps to it while he slides his tip.

It feels so good.

"mhmh-" you feel like crying, the pleasure only rising.

his cocky laugh resonating through your whole body.

"wish you’ve said that earlier.." he whispers. "because then I wouldn't be fucking losing my mind right now." pausing. "you're mine okay?" he says while introducing himself into your needy hole.

the moment he introduces himself, you’re squeezing him so hard he can barely fully put his dick in. "fuckㅡbaby, relax." jungkook opens his mouth into a gasp. "do you want me to cum now?" breathing heavier.

“nno.. but you feel so goood.” you swallow your words when you feel the leaks of your pussy. jungkook is the only person that has ever made you feel this horny.

“fuck.. baby.. how am I so lucky?” he said that one last thing more to himself than you.

after not taking it anymore he makes you ride him instead. “jump on me.” and you do. “fuck yeah, nice and hard baby.. so good..” as he holds your waist with his big hands.

eyes looking up and down your body it was as if he was admiring you. the woman he has in front of him. the perfect sculpture ever made, the hottest girl he has ever crossed his heart and eyes into. it was getting a lot so his natural reaction was to delicately examine each part of your body like how his hands fit so perfectly into your waist, they way your vagina swallowed him just right.. how wet you always were for him.. just the fact that you wanted him just as much as he wants you makes him crazy. the way you close your eyes with each jump or bite your lips giving him that pretty nasty look with a side fucked out smile he loves so much.. you were so sensual, he absolutely loved that.

“I love you so much.” he says before leaning your body against his just so he could start fucking you back and that made you scream.

“agh! mmfuck”

he was going sort of fast and deep just how you like it. the way you could feel his breathing against your neck made your nipples get harder but also because of the little rubs in had with his chest. you tried putting your boobs on his face which was a success so jungkook started to lick them or tried to because he was fucking you so fast now it was getting messy.

“I want to cum.” you say as you’re getting close.

“don’t cum like this.” he answers when he’s already flipping you stomach down, ass up. “let me see that pussy swallow my cum.” when he slaps your ass making you arch your back.

“fuck.”

you closed your legs and leaning your chest into the bed. this position making you hold your boyfriends dick a bit tighter.

he exhales with a ‘ho’ sound when he slaps your ass once again. “you just get better, hm baby?”

damn it he sounds so fucked out.

you felt so full you couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m gonna cum!”

“fucking do it, I can’t wait neither.”

as soon as you do he starts fucking you with paused but hard and deep thrusts. your legs were shaking, it’s like he knows exactly how to get you over it. when he cums inside you, the sight of it was what made him more crazy.

“swallowing my cum just right, huh? fuck..” he squishes your ass to the point it leaves a red stain. “how you’re still so deliciously tight….”

and without noticing, you were horny once again..

if you were going to tell everything that happened that night.. you’re sure you wouldn’t handle to finish with just a few paragraphs but you could guarantee that everything that happened was worth enough to let anybody with more than their mouth open..

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pixieishottogo · 19 days ago

Text

"Anything" ♡ Curly x Anya

art credit: seagummies on twitter

warnings: angst, topic of miscarriage

this is a good ending au of mouthwashing! if u are a hater, then dni🥰 this post aint for u, babe

Chapter 1

Jimmy had been dead for the past few months due to the crash. The crew has been slowly rotting. They have lost all hope, and for good reason. Daisuke and Swansea are unconscious because of hunger and exhaustion. Curly and Anya are slowly losing grip. Despite all this, the beautiful glowing screen still showcased the moon and stars. Curly's hair sticks to his face due to anxious sweat. "Well, we had a good run. Didn't we." Curly smiled. Anya laid beside him and she smiled despite the tears rolling down her face. "Yeah." Curly's breath hitches "Anya... I'm-”

Curly opened his eyes with a jolt. There he was, in the hospital. His whole body was aching. A nurse walked over to his bed, "How are you feeling, sir?" His eyes widened harshly. "Where is my crew?" He yelled. "Are they okay? Is Anya alive? I never got to tell her I'm sorry!" Curly's heart beat spiked. Thinking about Anya's distressed face made him feel nauseous from guilt. He placed his head in his hands, as if grappling with reality. The nurse spoke gently to try and to calm him down, "Everyone is okay. Some are still waking up." He sighed, feeling relieved. A doctor came into the room. "How did we survive? How are we home?" Curly was more than shocked. The doctor walked up to him, holding his papers. "Another space ship found you guys. Some astronomers were on an expedition in the area. You all were very lucky they were out there." The doctor said, cracking a smile. Curly looked down at his hands. "What room is Anya in? If you don't mind asking." Curly asked quietly. The nurse responded, "Room 25. And this is 24." After doing some basic checkups, and giving him some medicine for the pain, the doctor and the nurse left. Curly laid there, alone with his thoughts.

A few hours pass by, and unable to just sit and do nothing, Curly sneaks out of his room. He finds Anya sitting down in the lobby. The moon light shining on her in her hospital gown. She looked tired as usual, and mentally drained, but she still smiled faintly when she heard his voice. "Anya!" He cried out, limping towards her. She looks up at him and smiles with tears in her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and cried. She held his head gently. "Anya... I-I I'm so sorry. I should have done something. You already had told me that you felt uncomfortable around him. I felt like I was losing my mind. I didn't know what to do. I'm so sorry that I made it seem like I didn't care. I care so much. I will do anything you want to gain your forgiveness. We don't have to ever talk again if that's what you wish. I'm so sorry, Anya." The words came out almost pleadingly, and rushed. He couldn’t hold back a sob. "Captain-... Curly. Our worst moments don't define us. I don't blame you for what happened, we were in the middle of space. But it will still take me a long time to heal. Thank you." Anya was always the more quiet kind. She didn't know how to respond. After several quiet minutes spoke quietly, "I lost the baby." Curly looks up at her, his eyes slightly wide. To not offend her, he asked honestly, "How do you feel?" Tears rolled down her face, as she stared at the ground. "Empty.”

In the morning, Curly and Anya met up with Daisuke and Swansea. It seemed they were recovering well. The crew all sat together in the lobby. It was surreal, everything felt so much lighter. Almost happy. "How are you guys doing? What do you plan on doing after this?" Curly asked. Daisuke's face lights up, "That was totally crazy! I'm happy we survived. I can't wait to see my mom." Swansea pops in, "Heh, It will be nice to be with my family again. No more pony express. I get to be a retired lazy old man!" Swansea chuckles. Anya and Curly look at each other smiling. It felt like a dream.

A few days went by, and the crew slowly recovered. Everyone was released from the hospital once they were fully recovered. Getting back from the hospital was refreshing. The sterile white rooms grew to be nauseating. He could finally go home. Curly pulled up to his home, the sight of his big white house with blue shutters made him smile. That company never cared. Some random astronomers were the ones who cared enough to save them. He was free from that stupid job. He hated being glorified, he soon realized. Curly felt like a monster after everything that had happened. His loving pet guinea pig was waiting for him in his bedroom. Curly’s mother would take care of her every day while Curly was gone. Whenever anyone visits, they are surprised that he has such a small creature when he's such a big guy. Almost every time someone says the classic "Wow. I thought you would have a dog of some sort, captain." He sighed and flopped on the bed but gently held Daphne. He felt so relieved to be home, after all this time. But every time he tried to close his eyes, he would see Anya's crying face

☆

sooo this is my first fan fic ever that im gonna actually commit to😭 plz be patient. also, im gonna try to write the miscarriage plot as realistic as possible. i have had multiple friends and family that have suffered from miscarriages

#mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #curly x anya #jimmy mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing

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primofate · 3 months ago

Text

About boycotting Genshin Impact: Natlan skin colour issue and McDonalds.

(Read if you care about these issues and care about what I'm doing.)

If you are only here for a TLDR and want to know if I'm still writing Genshin fanfiction here's the short story: (I appreciate all the encouraging messages and all the love, but I may need to find another platform if things aren't working out here. If that day comes I will surely post over here and let you know where I've gone, but for now, though it is quite unpleasant, I do like and am used to the tumblr format. )

Long post starts here:

Decided to finally say something about this, because I feel like I've read up adequately about things.

First off, to the anon who claimed that I didn't care (who revealed their real identity in my inbox and apologized) I appreciate your bravery and also appreciate the apology. But I'm not going to lie to you, I don't really care for your presence around here, specially after what happened.

About the Natlan issue and the lack of tan/brown/dark skinned colour characters,

I understand why people are upset. I had a conversation with someone about this on tumblr, on how me, myself, I get upset when there is a lack of FEMALE main characters in games (I am mostly talking about the Persona Franchise, the main characters are always MALE, time and time again I always wait for a FEMALE MC, but am always disappointed that it hasn't happened EXCEPT of course, for P3 Portable and P2EP. Finally you had the option to play as Female, but that was it. I mean, it's 2024. WHY is there a lack of FEMALE MC in Persona? Anyhow, that is a different topic altogether.) so I can see how it could be disappointing for POC to see less or even NO characters that are POC.

That part, I totally understand.

All of your actions, boycotting, not rolling, not playing the game, being free to play, I UNDERSTAND all of that.

Now, recently there has been a big issue with Genshin Impact collaborating with McDonalds, because the chain supports Israel (but McDonalds is a franchise... and different owners have different ways of using their ownership of the chain/profit they make off it, so idk how that equals to all McDonalds support Israel. Educate me on this if I'm wrong.) People are saying that they are uninstalling the game because of it.

Again, I UNDERSTAND why you would do that.

I think what I need to address is what I am going to do.

And I'm not gunna lie to you, I don't think I'm going to stop playing the game (and I don't spend much money in game in the first place).

Does it mean that I support the bad situations they've put themselves in or the bad choices they've made? No, but of course there will be people who will say I play the game = I support their thoughts. Can it not just be simply I play the game = I enjoy the game/story?

I am being transparent and I think that's better than some of the people online who keep saying they won't play anymore but you KNOW some of them still do. Like, come on. Don't lie.

If that makes me a bad person according to you judgers out there, then so be it. Who really are you to claim I'm a bad person just because I play a game? Do you know what kinds of things I do in real life? What groups I help out and what organizations I donate to? What really do you know about what I do in real life? Maybe think about that before pointing your finger at someone online, and maybe think about what YOU are doing in real life too, instead of just being keyboard fighters, have you done anything to enhance the lives of other people?

Am I still going to write Genshin fanfiction?

Honestly if I stop doing it, it's because the interaction here on tumblr has been so toxic. LESS people commenting and interacting, I don't really mind much because I enjoy writing in general, I don't do it for you, I do it for me.

I am STILL writing, but at a slower pace because of my real life plus everything that's surrounding the game and the toxicity at the moment. I am even considering not posting on tumblr and just releasing stories like Ruthless Prince, stories that would be available through physical copy or ebooks that you have to pay for (that way I don't get nasty interactions and messages and those who really want to read my stuff can just pay and enjoy it) but as you all know, I'm not money hungry, I still post a lot of free stuff over here, but again, I'm not going to lie, there isn't much reason for me to post on tumblr anymore, specially with all the controversies and attacking going on.

I appreciate all the encouraging messages and all the love, but I may need to find another platform if things aren't working out here. If that day comes I will surely post over here and let you know where I've gone, but for now, though it is quite unpleasant, I do like and am used to the tumblr format.

The End.

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fireinmoonshot · 4 months ago

Note

idea for a tyler owens one shot. he broke off the relationship years ago and then you see each other again. maybe you go out for drinks and one thing leads to another. kinda inspired by the song bad idea right by olivia rodrigo.

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this request in. I'm sorry it took me like a week to get around to writing and posting. I hope you like it. I honestly had so much fun writing this one. I'm not sure how closely inspired it is by the song, but I tried my best to give it that same kind of vibe! 😊💗

You knew that going home was probably a bad idea, but it’d been years since you’d gone back and after a particularly hard couple of months, home was the only place you wanted to be – even with the threat of seeing Tyler around. That’s why, when you’d gone out with friends two nights ago to celebrate your return to town, you hadn’t been surprised to run into him.

The two of you had exchanged pleasantries, saying a quick hello before you’d headed back to your friends. You weren’t avoiding him, but you weren’t particularly interested in a conversation with him either. After all, he had been the one to break things off between the two of you a few years ago.

It’d been a fairly amicable break-up, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be best friends. Especially since you hadn’t seen him in years.

You’d assumed that the one interaction at the bar would be the only one. That you likely wouldn’t see him again before you headed back home or before he headed off chasing storms again. Until you woke up to a text the next morning.

It was nice seeing you again last night. Would you wanna catch up over a drink?

Every fibre of your being told you to say no, but somehow you’d texted Yes back.

You didn’t put too much effort into your appearance or dress up to meet him at the bar he’d suggested – one you used to go to a fair bit when you’d been together. You hadn’t been there since. Tyler had seen the best and worst sides of you, so you knew he wasn’t going to care if you showed up in your best outfit or your pyjamas.

It was the smile he gave you when you walked towards the bar and saw him waiting outside for you that made you question whether thiswas a bad idea. You pushed down the feeling in your stomach – the same one you used to get around him before.

“So, how’s the city treating you?” Tyler finally asked when you were both sat down inside, a drink in front of each of you. “Not being tempted into moving back home?”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, it’d have to take a miracle to bring me back home, I think. The city is nice. I wouldn’t call it home, but it’s as good as these days.” You decided to refrain from telling him about the stressful few months at your job, as well as some drama with your landlord. He didn’t need to know about those things.

Tyler, though, had always been able to see through you.

“It’s nice? It’s as good as home? I’m not convinced.”

You stared at him for a moment. He could still do that, even after not seeing or speaking to you for years? It felt like the time had never passed between you, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. You leant towards not, and you knew your friends would agree.

And… was it possible for Tyler Owens to have gotten more attractive?

“How’s the team? Have you blown up on Youtube yet?” You decided to attempt to change the topic before you got off track or before you said something you’d probably end up regretting. Tyler had asked you out here tonight to catch up, not to rekindle.

Tyler let out a long sigh, obviously irritated with you changing the subject, and then switched, his annoyed expression breaking into a grin. “You mean you haven’t been keeping up with our Youtube channel? C’mon, darlin’, we’ve got a million subscribers and you’re telling me you’re not one of them?”

“I’m really not,” you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “I don’t make it a habit to keep up with what my ex-boyfriends do, funnily enough. But I’m glad to hear the channel has worked out for you guys. I guess there’s a real market for storm chasing these days.”

“I mean, I tried to keep up with what you were doing, but Boone eventually convinced me to stop once he caught me checking your Instagram right before a chase,” Tyler laughed softly, then paused, as if he was surprised at himself for admitting that right to your face. “Anyway, Youtube is going well and the team are great. Storm season starts soon, we’re all hoping it’s gonna be a good one.”

You paused, your drink half way to your mouth. “You check my Instagram?”

“Key word there was checking, darlin’,” Tyler said. “But yeah, at the start, of course I did. I broke up with you, you left not long after. I had it in my head that I was the reason you moved away, even though you told me I wasn’t, but I still wanted to know that you were okay, that the city was all right and that you were safe.”

The desire to come clean and tell Tyler everything about your life in the city had never been stronger. You wanted to tell him about your irritating landlord, about the way your refrigerator in your apartment kept breaking down and the air conditioning never worked, about how everyone at work kept looking down on you despite your experience, about the fact that you’d been on so many dates in the last few years since you moved, but none of them came close to Tyler.

But you couldn’t.

Instead, you took a very long drink from your glass and then sat it back on the table. All the while, Tyler looked at you, reading you with those eyes that he could see through you with.

“Things aren’t great in the city, are they?” He asked softly.

You didn’t have to tell Tyler anything because he already knew.

Hearing his words, the soft way in which he spoke them, and seeing the way he looked at you, suddenly became overwhelming. This man, the one you’d been in love with years ago, the one you used to tell everything to, the one who used to be your home, was sitting right in front of you again and making you feel like you mattered again, after months of being made to feel invisible in the city.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” You didn’t give Tyler a chance to respond before you were up, making a beeline for the front door, desperate to get some air. If you stayed in that bar any longer, you were sure you’d end up making a bad decision. If Tyler kept looking at you like that and making you feel like the version of yourself you were years ago, you worried you were going to become that person again.

You let out a breath of relief as you stepped outside the bar, the cool evening air hitting you. It was still spring, the air not quite cold but nice enough to be refreshing on your skin as you walked to an emptier spot just down the street, away from the crowd which had spilled out of the bar the later it got in the night.

It didn’t come as a surprise to you that Tyler followed you. He always wanted to make sure you were okay when you had been together, and that clearly hadn’t changed, especially with the way he’d just been talking to you.

He sidled up beside you, making sure to give you enough space, knowing that you needed it. “Sweetheart,” he started. “I know I’m probably the last person you wanna talk to right now, but you know you can talk to me, don’t you?”

You met his eyes and nodded.

“I know I’m your ex, but I still care about you. Probably more than I should.”

You’d never wanted to kiss a man more in your whole life.

“Why more than you should?” You asked, taking a step towards him and noticing the way the look in his eyes changed as he looked at you.

“Because I should’ve moved on by now.”

“But you haven’t?”

Tyler swallowed. “It’s only ever been you.”

In that moment, nothing could stop you from closing the distance between the two of you, cupping Tyler’s cheeks in your hands and pressing your lips to his. Tyler was quick to kiss you back and you could tell that for the both of you, it was just like coming up for air after years of drowning without each other.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his body as his lips moved against yours, tongue sweeping across your bottom lip. The fact that you were out on a public street, not far from a crowded bar, didn’t cross either of your minds. All that you could think about was each other and the feeling of each others lips.

When, eventually, you needed to stop for a breather, Tyler rested his forehead against the top of your head, his breathing heavy. “I take it we’re not just talking tonight, darlin’?”

“Not tonight,” you admitted. “We probably shouldn’t have done this, y’know?”

“I know,” Tyler agreed. “But if you think I’m ever letting you go again, you’re wrong.”

You let out a small laugh. “I said it’d take a miracle to bring me back home, Ty.”

His face broke out into a grin. “Didn’t I tell you miracle is my middle name?”

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twisters #twisters x reader #twisters x you #twisters fanfiction #glen powell x reader #tyler owens fic #tyler owens fanfiction

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yourheart-inmyhands · 6 months ago

Note

Hello again! I'm just here to send u another request :P

Could I get Raiden, Focalors, Venti, and the Abyss Princess Lumine for the same request I had for critically injured reader?

Thank you!!

🍌anon

hi tysm for the request! i don't write for lumine unfortunately, she's marked as discontinued on my list since i felt it was difficult to write for someone who is meant to be diverse for each player. so sorry and i hope it doesn't stop you from requesting in the future :D <3

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behaviors, self blaming behaviors, mentions of falling from great heights, lots of talk of reader being injured/in hospital, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Raiden:

Raiden was always a little cold, a little distant and standoffish. She didn’t mean any harm by it, she was simply busy and didn’t have a lot of free time for you, even if she wished she had. Staring at you now, her trembling hands holding you tight as she tries to find the source of the bleeding, trying to stop it, trying to do anything. In this moment, Raiden feels the crushing weight of her actions, feels the suffocating pressure of not having loved you enough.

If you died in this moment, protecting her from some daring individuals in Inazuma despite the fact she could easily have protected herself, Raiden would never forgive herself. She’s grateful that you don’t die, nearly bleeding out and being in a medically induced coma aren’t great, but you aren’t dead. It’s in this moment that Raiden is grateful for her immortality, for she can sit eternally by your bedside, waiting for you to wake up.

It nearly makes Raiden sick to see you laid out on a bed like that, far too many machines making noises, more bandages than skin visible. It’s enough to have her flinching, unsure that this was even you anymore. But her heart knows it’s you, and it aches at the sight of the damage it has caused. Raiden finds herself thankful that she isn’t required to sleep, eat, or do any other basic necessities, it gives her more time to sit at your bedside, talking to you and waiting for you to wake up, if you ever do that is. She knows it isn’t enough to make up for all the time she’s thrown away, but as she sits there, staring at her hands in her lap, too nervous to touch you in case she causes more damage, she can’t help but feel like it’s at least a step in the right direction.

Furina:

Furina wasn’t a neglectful lover by any means, and after losing her divinity, she had even more time to spend with you. Except she didn’t, why she did her best to put on a brave, happy face, she was depressed. She needed time to heal and found herself accidentally shutting you out of that healing process. Furina was grateful for your loyalty though, staying around and making sure she continued to care for herself.

That was exactly what led to the accident though. While cooking food for the two of you in her kitchen, something went wrong with the stove, causing a small explosion in the kitchen and setting fire to everything in sight it could reach. Furina was able to get you both out of there, but she hadn’t been able to stop the explosion, leaving you in a critical state.

Standing just outside your room, watching as the Melusines change your bandages and mutter amongst themselves about your condition, Furina can only blame herself. If she hadn’t been so depressed, if she had done the cooking for once, if she- if she just- her thoughts become muddled with more self-loathing and blame, her gaze unfocused until a Melusine approaches. The small creatures had tried to coax her into the room numerous times, telling her that it was ok to sit beside your bed and that you couldn’t feel any pain right now. Furina politely refused every time. She didn’t feel she deserved to sit or even stand near you. She didn’t think she even deserved to stand outside your room, but she couldn’t stand to be apart from you until she knew you were ok.

Venti:

Gliding from the mountaintop was supposed to be a fun little date between the two of you. The gentle breeze coaxing you from the cliffside down to the sprawling fields below, it was supposed to be fun. Venti even went out and bought you both new gliders, ones that matched. It was cute and fun, up until yours broke. He wasn’t sure how, but one of the wings managed to disconnect from the other, leaving you wobbling before the winds turned against you, tipping you over and sending you plummeting.

He could only react so fast, hastily trying to unclip his own glider so that he could go after you. Venti hadn’t even thought about using the power of the wind, he was panicking, wasn’t thinking straight. He couldn’t wrap his brain around the fact that you were actually falling. The sickening crunch was enough to snap him out of his panic, allowing him to finally unsecure his own wings and drop down. He didn’t take any damage though, landing safely thanks to the wind.

Rushing you to Mondstat felt longer than it took, it really had only been a few minutes, but it felt like hours. You were laid on a cot in the Cathedral, all the sisters rushing about trying to help you. Several of your bones had been broken and Sister Barbara was doing her best to heal them. Grand Master Jean even came to help, taking shifts with her sister to give the younger girl some rest. It seemed as though all of Mondstat came to your aid, with the Librarian and Alchemist of the Knights working together to find some sort of healing potion. Everyone was doing something, except Venti. He sat on the roof of the building, crying and cursing his own name. He prayed that Celestia would take his remaining divinity, that they would cut him off and grant him humanity, grant him death. Venti was to blame for this, it had been his idea, he hadn’t reacted fast enough to catch you with the wind. He was sure you were going to hate him after this.

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f1amour · 3 months ago

Text

✧˚ · . 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

warnings: angst (but happy ending <3), miscommunication , age gap (reader is 26 daniel is 35), jealous!daniel

authors note: very short and sweet part two of dirty little secret sorry it took me awhile to put it out, i was getting some writers block so it was a very rushed plot but it’s a happy ending hopefully that makes it up <3 i may write some small blurbs to this series since i really enjoyed writing this request but writing a full fic can take me some time and i hate keeping people waiting

part one

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MARCH 2025

It's been a year since you had last spoken to Daniel and while you see him around the paddock it wasn't the same. Despite being heartbroken from that night on the balcony and his words that cut into your heart you still sent him a congratulatory text when it was announced he would be racing for Red Bull along Max once again in the 2025 season.

It had been something he talked to you about hoping he could prove himself once again to a team he regrets ever leaving. The text was left on read for days until you received a one word response from him, "Thanks."

His response and behavior for the rest of the 2024 season was killing you and you decided you would never speak to him again. He didn't seem phased by that when you had seen him with a new girl at your brother's engagement party.

You wanted to hate him. Your mind hated him but your heart…oh your silly heart would always belong to him.

"I…I don't understand. You worked with us for two years now and you said working here was your dream after leaving Mclaren. Why are you going to Ferrari?" Max asks disappointed while you sit with him in your office.

You stare at Max and give him a smile with tears in your eyes, "I can't be around him, Max. I'll have to be around him 24/7 for social media duties and my heart can't take the pain seeing him act like I didn't even matter to him as a friend."

And I can't bear to see him with her.

Max can see this wasn't just an argument about Daniel being a shitty friend, no he knew something more had happened even though Daniel refused to tell him he knew deep down something more had happened between the two of you.

"I'm gonna miss you." He says truthfully, you had actually made his days where he would have to film and post things for social media fun. Max saw your passion for the job and knew it was better to do it in an environment where both drivers would make her feel appreciated.

─────────────────────────

Going into the 2025 season was a breath of fresh air you hadn't felt in awhile and you were doing well on the Scuderia Ferrari team, getting close to both Charles and Lewis had helped heal the sadness you had carried over you.

You were finally moving on despite still being in love with someone who would never love you.

Your brother was at the first race of the season to support Daniel at his home race and back with Red Bull. You hadn't seen him in months so despite knowing Daniel would be at the restaurant Luka had reserved you went to finally catch up with your brother.

"Seriously, you look glowing. You sure there isn't a man in your life being that reason for the smile on your face?" Luka's fiance, Amelia asks you while you take another sip of your second glass of wine.

Daniel's expression falls when he hears her question towards you and your brother focuses on the now interesting topic regarding your love life, "Oh do tell dear sister? Finally got yourself a man?"He jokes with you, only for you to slap his head.

"No you dingus. The only men in my life are Charles and Lewis." You tell them with a straight face until you say Lewis's name and you break out in a smile.

"No fucking way! You and Hamilton?! Danny why didn't you tell me about this?" Your brother questions Daniel.

Daniel stares at you for a moment but you look away not seeing the sadness in his eyes, "Uh I didn't know they were together." He says flatly.

You roll your eyes and glare at the Australian, "No one said we were together."”

"Well the way you fucking smile over hearing his name seems like there is something there." He spits back. The table now grows silent tension obviously between the two of you.

"What's going on with the both of you? You used to be so close. I was shocked to see you leave Red Bull even though Daniel would be back on the team. Remember in 2019 when they offered you–."

"Fuck off Luka! People change and grow up. I did what was best for my career not to follow your boyfriend around.” You cut your brother off from revealing something you had kept from Daniel for years now.

"Please you're the one who's been in love with him for five years." He scoffs, his face drops after saying those words realizing the mistake he had made.

Daniel looks over at you, "What…what did he just say?"

You stand up from the table and throw the glass of wine you hsd left on your brother, "Best big brother ever!" You walk away from the dinner table and avoid the stares from other people.

"Y/n! Y/n wait up! We need to talk what he said back there–."

"Now you want to talk? After a year of ignoring me, you want to talk now? Well sorry but I don't have time for you anymore." You send Lewis a quick text asking to pick you up with an immediate reply saying he would be there in five minutes.

"He said you love me…was it the truth?"”

"Fuck danny I mean everyone could fucking tell but you! Yes…I loved you. Loved. I don't love you now, I don't love the Daniel in front of me. The Daniel I love would have never done what you did to me. What did you call me again? Oh, a dirty little secret? That's all I would ever be."

Daniel shakes his head holding back tears, “That’s…look my wording for that was fucking terrible. But I promise what you feel I feel as well. Fuck I lo—.”

“Don’t. Please don’t say it, Daniel. I’ve loved you for so long that I would forgive everything that has happened if you tell me you love me. But that isn’t fair to me. You have been terrible to me since that night. You’ve ignored me like i meant nothing. As if we weren’t friends before that night. I’m sorry but please don’t tell me you love me when your actions have shown the opposite. Good luck this weekend.” Your heart was hurting as you said the words but it was needed. If Daniel said he loved you then you would forgive everything and you can’t do that to yourself.

─────────────────────────

It was media day for the Australian GP and Daniel hadn’t been able to sleep ever since you told him you loved him two days ago. He fucked up and he knew that but he also knew that he does love you.

His actions so far may not be proving that but he now has it set in his mind that he will prove to you how much he loves you.

“So I’m gonna ride in the car while Lewis drives and I ask questions?” You ask Charles who nods placing the helmet on you.

“Why aren’t you doing that? It would make more sense and I could get better content with both of you.” You tell Charles but he just shakes his head.

“No it’ll be fun just trust me. Now go!” He smiles widely shoving you into the car with Lewis already in the car.

You sigh and grab your planner going to the Noah where you had questions ready, “Alright Lewis, you better drive safe I wanna get back in one piece. So where do we—.”

The car takes off quickly and your planner falls to the floor, “Lewis slow down!” You yell at the Brit but when you look over you realize it’s not Lewis driving the car but Daniel.

“Daniel! I…what are—.”

“I love you! I’ve been in love with you for quite some time now. I met you in the Redbull headquarters looking lost on your first day and I knew you would mean something to me. I…I don’t believe in love at first sight but when I first saw you I felt a pull and an instant connection I never felt with anyone else. Our conversation flowed so well and god your smile…your fucking smile made my entire day. It makes me happy every single day of my life seeing that precious smile on your beautiful face. So when I realized I was the reason for the frown on your face and not seeing that smile on your face because of me for a year…I was a fucking idiot. An idiot who has been scared to love because of their own insecurities. I wanted to tell you for so long how I felt, sunshine. But when we were at McLaren I was living a fucking nightmare. A nightmare you helped me survive despite all the trauma they’ve left me and so I thought that confessing my feelings you’d leave me and I don’t know if I could survive not having you in my life.”

His eyes filed with tears still driving at a safe pace knowing you were in the car. His breath shaking at the mention of the team who crushed his confidence, your hand reaches over to his thigh and you give it a squeeze encouraging him to continue.

“But I was also conflicted with being your brother’s best friend. I thought it was could lose our friendship but that’s when I realized if he was my friend he would support us. Which he does…I asked him after dinner the other day what he would think and he says I’m an idiot for ever holding these feelings back. Because I met you first you were my best friend way before he was. You are the love of my life. You…I have to look you in the eyes. Fuck this.” He stops the car and gets out quickly running to your side and helping you out of the car and taking your helmet off along with his.

His hands cup your face, “Danny, there’s people that could be watching.” You whisper softly looking into his brown eyes.

“I don’t care. I’m in love with you. I love you. I love the way your eyes light up when someone is telling you some good news. I love the way your nose scrunches when you laugh. I love the way you cry every time we watch a romcom and the characters admit they’re in love with each other. I love how passionate you are for your friends and family. I love how you marched down into the Mcalren office and gave Zak a piece of your mind after they ended my contract. I love that you love me so deeply you denied working for Red Bull as the social media manager in 2019 because I would be gone the following year. Your eyes. Your smile. Your lips. Your hands. I’m in love with every part of you and more. I want you in my life forever. I want to come home with you and tell you how my day went. I want to share my highs and lows with you. I’m going to love you for the rest of my life whether you choose to have me in your life or not. As long as I’m alive you’ll always be loved by me.” Daniel lets out a deep breath finishing his confession and looking down at you waiting for a response. His heart beating 10 times more than if’s usual rate.

“I…I love you, Daniel. I love you so much it hurts me. I was such an idiot for not saying it sooner. So many wasted years we could have been together. You’re my life, baby. I breathe for you. I live for you. I could stay in your arms forever. You’ve showed me unconditional love as a friend but now I want more. Your smile brings sunshine in my darkest days. I want to love you for the rest of my life as well. Together and forever.” You ignore the cheers from half of the drivers that had all ran down the track to see why the car had stopped but seeing Daniel pulling you closer to him gave them an indication it was all good news.

“Let’s give them a show, sunshine.” Daniel whispers against your lips before pulling you into a deep kiss. Missing his lips after a year you pull him closer if that’s even possible, your hands tugging on his hair.

“If you tug on my hair some more I’m gonna get a boner in front of everyone.” He says against yours lips.

“Danny!” You slap his chest, pulling away from him only for him to lift you up and wrap your legs around him.

“Fucking hell mate took you guys long enough to finally admit your feelings.” Max says walking up to the two of you.

“Shut it, Maximilian.” You glare at him before smiling over at Charles and Lewis who were walking over to you with the biggest grins on their faces.

“Oh I’m going to give you guys do the most annoying challenges for the socials next week. How dare you set me up?” You get off Daniel to walk over to them, Daniel stays attached to you though.

The two Ferrari drivers shrug, “He called me last night to find out what our relationship was before he told me the plan he had to confess his feelings. I had to laugh when he thought we were dating.” Lewis chuckles.

You join him and look at Daniel, “Come on baby, you really thought me and Lewis were together? I smiled at his name the other night because the same night he had called me before dinner saying he got stuck in the car…turns out Charles had his keys and kept locking the door on him so he couldn’t get out. But it’s cute you were jealous.” You pinch his cheeks.

“I’m so getting you back for that.” Lewis glares at Charles who decides this was his best chance to run off.

Daniel smiles down at you, “I love you.”

You kiss him softly, “I love you, always.”

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#f1 amour works #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo blurb #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo

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chrissv4mp · 5 months ago

Text

— I COULD CHANGE YOUR LIFE -

chap 1 , get that girl. — | — ...back — | — next...

summary: the interaction at the diner hasn't left his thoughts, and chris just can't help himself when it comes to your beautiful presence, so he follows you home.

pairing: stalker!chris sturniolo × singer!reader

warnings + topics: cursing, stalking, murder, weapons, blood, obsessive behavior, suggestive moments, breaking & entering, crying, arguments, chris is crazy, choking, drowning, first person, second person, etc. more than half of these topics are mentioned in later chapters.

author's note: if the person reading this is sensitive to any of the topics listed above, please do not read this. i am not responsible for your own media consumption, and will not change any aspect of the story for your own pleasure. (this will be the last time i will state this, please scroll if you're not comfortable.)

author's note 2: he's giving joe goldberg!! this chapter is written mainly in 1st person, & the first half is chris' perspective! i'll clarify that throughout the story.

author's note 3: you guys are getting this a little earlier because i couldn't wait to post it🗣🗣

word count: 2.8k

why are you walking home alone, y/n? it's not safe out here, especially late at night. what if some creep tries to attack you? i know you're smarter than that.

and you're on your phone, clearly unaware of what's going on around you. you're lucky i'm here to keep you safe. i'll always be.

i reach behind my back, grabbing my hood to throw it over my head. if she saw that i was the one following her, she probably wouldn't watch me anymore. she would think i'm a weirdo.

i hear her laugh, and god, i wish that sound could just repeat in my head for a lifetime. it's such a sweet, soft sound, just like her personality. sweet.

"jamie, don't be such a dick. you know the deadline is coming soon and we have to finish the album." i hear her say, and i can't help but flinch at the sudden noise.

who is she talking to? who is jamie, and why is he being a dick to her? nobody should ever even speak a filthy word to her let alone treat her badly, she's such an angel.

her head turns, and i finally get a glimpse of her earbuds. she can't hear me. no wonder why she hasn't turned back every time i step on the gravelly sidewalk. it's such an annoying sound, always calling me out.

y/n sighs, rubbing her temple with one hand as her free one holds the phone up to her ear, "it's like you don't even care if we descend the charts! maybe ask yourself why you're doing this before you go and screw everything up."

she's tense, i can tell from the way she groans under her breath. i can hear jamie's voice, it's quiet but i can make out what he's saying.

something about rerecording background vocals and going over lyrics again. then, he says something inaudible, and now y/n is on video call with him.

she taps a button, and now i can hear him loud and clear, "just listen to this, it really needs some touch-ups."

i can see his face from the way y/n is holding her phone, and suddenly his eyebrows furrow and he looks directly at me.

the music pauses, and y/n stops in her tracks. she's in the middle of the crosswalk, and i'm just a few feet behind her.

"y/n... who is that?" my eyes widen as i realize he's talking about me. she only laughs nervously, shrugging the uncomfortable feeling off.

don't look back, "stop fucking around and just show me the chorus." she huffs out, another laugh leaving her plump lips.

his eyes are still on me through that screen, and i just continue to walk, hoping that my cover won't be blown.

"no, y/n, look behind you. there's a man following you!" he finally yells, and i curse under my breath as i hear y/n's breathing pick up.

her head whips around, and that's when i panic. fuck, why did her house have to be so far away? damn you, jamie.

my first thought is to just rush her, tackle her to the floor and throw her phone on the ground, but i don't because that would result in hurting her. so, i take the second best option, running to my right and into some bushes.

i hear y/n scream from behind me, and then i hear her footsteps finally run off the crosswalk and across the street. my foot gets caught on a stick, and i fall face first into the dirt.

my knees hit the ground, and i groan at the sharp pain of rocks on my flesh. my hands sunk into the mud beneath me, getting the hem of my sweatshirt sleeves dirty, "dude, what the fuck?"

i stand up again, shaking my hands out in front of me in hopes of getting the mud off. some of it does, and a small amount of damage is repaired, but there's still cuts and bruises forming on my lower half.

my eyes wander, looking down at my bloodied knees. why did i even wear jorts today? it's boston, it's not supposed to be hot after 6 pm.

my hands clench into fists, and anger begins to boil under my skin. it feels like it's 90° now, snd i just want to punch something. why do my plans always fucking fail? no matter what i do, the outcome is horrible.

not this time. no, i'm not gonna let this silly little thing mess up my plan. this is just a setback, and there's always downs in life, don't let it get the best of you, chris.

"breathe." i mutter, closing my eyes and taking a few deep breaths. i wish matt was here, he would know what to do. he would console me and tell me everything's gonna be alright.

he would tell me to keep going, get the girl. and that's exactly what i'm gonna do, whether jamie likes it or not. because this is just a minor setback, nothing will stop me from getting y/n. no one will stop me.

"you're starrin' in my dreams,

in magazines,"

it's the next day, and now matt is dabbing the large cut on me with a cotton ball. the hydrogen peroxide stings, and i flinch as he puts a bit more pressure.

"matt!" i groan, reaching for his hand. he swats mine away, looking up into my eyes with a stern expression.

i shut my mouth and just look away, trying not to focus on the pain too much as my brother pushes it against my knee. i hear him let out a long sigh, and then my attention is back on him.

he gives me a knowing look, and then he speaks, "what'd you do this time?" my eyebrows furrow in offense. i never do anything, it's not always my fault.

i scoff, looking around at anything but matt. how could i explain that i was following the love of my life, that doesn't know she's the love of my life yet, home, and then got caught and threw myself into some bushes? he would think i'm a maniac, and that's the last thing i want my older brother to think of me as.

"i tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. it was hugeee, matt, you really should've seen it." way to go, chris, that's so believable.

he shrugs, a smile coming to his face as he laughs, "i'm not even surprised." that was very believable, chris. way to go!

"not surprised is crazy." nick chimes in, and both mine and matt's heads whip up in the direction of his voice.

he's leaning against the door frame of my bedroom, a smug smirk on his face as he squints his eyes to see my knees better, "wow, chris, who pushed you off the slide?"

i just flip him off, they're treating me like a child. i'm smarter than that, i'm tougher than the both of them. well, maybe not nick, but i'm close!

"actually go choke." i groan, throwing myself back against the mattress as disappointment washes over me. if i had just thought before i followed y/n then maybe i would know where she lived, and whoever the fuck jamie is. such a snitch.

matt peels the plastic seal from the bandaid, and then he sticks it onto the cut on my knee. he inhales sharply before getting to his feet again, "alright, you're fine now. take the bandaid off when it stop bleeding, 'kay?"

i only hum in response, my emotions all over the place and getting the best of me. this entire situation is so idiotic and childish, i don't need a bandaid.

nick walks out after matt, making sure to shut the door. wow, he's finally learned after all the times i've scolded him about not closing it.

there's still mud in the crevices between my fingers and under my nails. it's uncomfortable in more than one way. i just want the memory of that night to be gone, erased from my memory for my entire life.

but i'm not ever gonna forget it, and it's gonna be hard to forget when the girl i want is a constant reminder of that incident. it's whatever, though. in the end it will pay off, all the things i'll do for her attention will pay off. i know it will.

my feet begin to swing as they dangle off the edge of my bed, and then they hit something. i finally sit up straight, looking down at where my feet are planted. the box, that box full of magazines and letters, prints and various drawings of y/n.

i look toward my door before grabbing the box and placing it on my bed softly. my fingers hook under the top, and it falls to the side, revealing your face on the covers of multiple magazines.

i never missed a day when rolling stone, variety, and even vogue came out with new magazines that featured y/n on the covers and in all of the pages inside. i even bought some that had her on only a single page, then i cut them out and threw it in here.

nobody could call themselves y/n's biggest fan with me still alive. they don't know her like i do, even if we just met for the first time on—no, even if we just reconnected for the first time in forever yesterday.

"pretty girl." i whisper. even if she can't hear, i know she knows that. she's the prettiest girl in the world, who wouldn't compliment her?

i grab the first magazine, my eyes darting all around her beautiful body and facial features before putting it to the side and admiring the next one. it should be a crime to be this gorgeous, she shouldn't even be allowed outside.

what if something happens to the girl? her security wouldn't care, but i would. the things i'd do for that girl i can't even explain. i don't need her love for that, though, because i can just protect her even when she's not watching. i need her love because that is the only thing that keeps me going.

her interviews where she says how much she loves and appreciates her fans, that keeps me going. that night at the diner when she said she watched my videos, oh, that's gonna keep me up for a long time.

who would've known that night would take a turn because i sure didn't. i thought it would go smoothly and that i would make it all the way to her home, surprise her. but no, it went horribly all because of that fucking dipshit jamie.

he's the one who ruined our romantic walk, he's the one who ruined my chances of getting her to fall for me. jamie ruined everything, and fuck, i just want to strangle him until his head pops. i just want to watch him as he gets ruined, as his life gets ruined in front of the entire world.

i don't even realize that i'm crushing a page of her magazine until i hear a crunch, and now suddenly, i'm back in my room as i stare at her beautiful, crushed face. panic spikes in my heart, and my free hand comes up in an effort to smoothen down the paper like it was before. no, this was a special magazine, it couldn't be ruined.

my breathing hitches, and i huff out as i just throw it back into the box. my hand reaches for the other one, and i place it gently atop of the crumpled paper before closing the box and setting it under my bed again.

i kick it further under the bed frame until i hear it hit the wall with a quiet thud, and then i let out a breath that i didn't know i'd been holding in. i'm letting my anger get a hold of me again, just like it almost did last night.

"deep breaths, chris. just breath." i tell myself, grabbing the sheets and running my thumbs along the fabric as i breath in through my nose and out through my mouth.

if i let anger get the best of me i'll ruin my plan for y/n, and then she'll never want to speak to me or even see me again.

"you're looking right at me."

pov = second person...

you smile at the boy across from you, giggling at the stupid knock knock joke he had just told you, "that wasn't even funny, it's just your laugh, jamie!"

he scoffs in faux offense, putting a hand to his chest as he takes a sip of his coffee. before speaking again, he swallows, "don't try to convince yourself that i'm not the funniest guy you've ever met."

you only roll your eyes at the blond, looking away from him to admire your surroundings. you and your producer came to this small coffee shop to talk about work and how you both needed to finish the last few songs on your upcoming album before the deadline, and now here you were, laughing at his jokes.

jamie felt like a brother to you, being there for all your highs and lows all throughout these past few years as you grew on the charts. he was always by your side, protecting you from crazy fans and even crazier haters. jamie also treated you like a member of his family, and he said that he'd protect you with his life.

the laughing dies down, and then you hear him sigh. your head turns to look at the boy again, and his eyes meet yours in an instant, "i hope you're being safe out there, y/n. seriously."

your face contorted into a look of happiness and maybe even guilt as you tilted your head, "i promise you i am."

"what about last night, then? you could've gotten kidnapped if it wasn't for me pointing out that creep. he was most definitely following you home, y/n!" he exclaimed, quiet enough that nobody else could hear but loud enough that only you could.

a look of worry was on his face, an expression that you hadn't seen that much of lately. he really was scared for you, especially in the last few months. you were growing in popularity fast, climbing up the charts every week or so.

at your silence, jamie exhaled, "sorry for snapping, you just... you keep me on my toes at all times, and sometimes i don't know what to say." he gives a smile full of sympathy before he takes another sip of his coffee.

you nod, eyes wandering again as you mutter, "it's okay." you knew all he wanted was the best for you, "i should've just gone to liv's apartment. the walk to my place was further than i thought."

your eyes darted all over the small plaza, looking around at all of the different people that walked by. one person in particular caught your eye, and you stared for just a little longer.

chris stared right back at you, hair covering his face along with his black fresh love hoodie. he found you again, and this time he wasn't gonna fuck up.

he saw the way your eyebrows furrowed even from the fountain across from the cafe, and he laughed at your concentrated look. you were trying to figure out who that was.

the brunette couldn't lie, he was a bit jealous of your producer. i mean, he was sitting right across from you and making you laugh. chris should be the guy who makes you laugh!

he'd been watching no less than 15 minutes as you both chatted, cheeks flushing at your perfect smile and beautiful, silky hair that fell over your shoulder just right.

maybe his obsession had grown after that night, but he wasn't some deranged stalker who tracked your every move. that would be insane, and chris would never put himself under that category. maybe.

chris cursed as jamie's head turned in the direction of chris, and the brunette just turned and quickly walked away. his brothers were probably wondering where he was, and the vlog would have to be scrapped if only 2 of them were in it.

jamie's eyebrows furrowed again, and he stood up and quickly grabbed your hand, "we're going, y/n. now."

as he dragged you out of the cafe, you couldn't help but think. who was that mystery guy? was he the guy from last night? why was he following you?

you had so many questions, and yet there were no answers to any of them. not quite yet, anyway. you were gonna have to wait for the right time, and chris had the whole thing planned out already. you'd just have to be patient.

comment to be on the series taglist!

@livialifesblog @fratbrochrisgf @spideylovin @1800-love-me @ginswife

@strnlxlqve @joemamaaa42069 @mirioosos @ladyy-whistle-d0wn @snowysosturn

@dej4vhs @zayyluvz @slut4chriss @h3arts4harry @str4wberryk1ss3s

@riasturns @yurpppppy @nwlluvsturnsstars17 @asimp4chris @byneptunee

@ilove2021chris

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amaderika · 1 month ago

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. . % JUST MY LUCK ! yoru x reader

001 CW SMUT, long fic, f!reader, nerd!yoru, loser!yoru, popular!reader, reader is lowkey mean, blowjob, boob job, inexperienced yoru again im so sorry 😭 002 A/N nghghf finally got the time to post <33 this has been in my drafts for months...

the nervousness yoru was feeling at the moment was indescribable. there was a pair work, again. he dreaded pair works—he loathed them. usually, his partner would let him do everything. all because he was considered a star student. it was a curse and a blessing at the same time.

“why did sir let us pick our partners..? i'll for sure be a last option for whoever's as unlucky as me. .” he thought.

you, on the other hand, did not care one bit. it was starting to annoy you. he was fidgeting with his ID, the sound of his keychain hitting the frame making an irritating sound. why did you have to be seated beside him? his only redeeming quality is his intelligence. people only talked to him if they needed help with academics.

although yoru was smart, he knew no one would pick him. he was a loser, after all. people found him unapproachable and awkward. he had weird, messy, black hair, a lot of ear piercings, and his outfits were just.. weird.

as you looked to the side, you noticed the poor boy beside you, still feeling anxious. it was baffling how someone could be this stressed over pairings. yoru watched as people were picking partners while he was sitting there in silence.

he was scared—not only on behalf of his dignity, but his academics too. if no one chose him, how would he do the project? if no one chose him, how will his grades be—

“yoru, do you wanna partner up?” you asked him.

that sentence made him shiver a bit from the unexpectedness. you? out of all people? were asking to be partners with someone like him? oh, he'd just consider you his savior.

he turned to face you but quickly looked down out of shame. he almost forgot how to speak a coherent sentence when he looked in the same direction as you. you were just wondering if he knew how stupid he looked. his hair was basically covering his eyes as he was looking at the floor. “uh. . yoru?”

“ 'm sorry! yes, i would gladly appreciate if you were partners with me. in fact, i'm so grateful you gave me this oppurtunity to—”

you interrupted him. why does he only have 2 sides. . ? not talking at all or talking too much. you wished yourself goodluck as you realized what you got yourself into. your hands ran through his hair and you pat his head. “yeah, yeah, whatever. let's meet at my place to start it.”

oh, his face was red. he's never had anyone touch him like that before. he nodded at your remark and mumbled a little “thank you.”

people, including your friends, looked at you weirdly after finding out you decided to pair with yoru.

you and your friends were eating at a cafe for lunch. they decided to bring up the topic. “did you feel bad for, you know. . yoru?” one of them giggled. “or are you just planning to use him? you know, good idea. he knows you're a hot shot right? maybe you can—”

“yeah, i did feel bad. what's your deal? just shut up and eat.” you said while stirring your drink. it wasn't that big of a deal, actually. and why would you use him? yoru seemed like a nice guy despite your earlier impressions. he did weird you out in a way, but you didn't wanna embarrass him in front of your friends.

your drink was half finished. you wanted to order another one but you saw a familiar face outside the café. it was yoru, waiting for you outside nervously.

6pm. you were walking with yoru outside the campus to your place. on the way out, yoru was slightly annoyed on how much people were interrupting your walk. multiple people would greet you which causes you to start small talk and waste time. did you not understand how serious a research assignment was? you didn't get him at all! he wanted to complain, but he had no room to. he was nothing compared to you.

“you going to the party tomorrow?” an acquaintance of yours asked.

“i'll see. got a research to do and, well.” you gestured at yoru and giggled, hoping she would get the memo. you were kinda chained to this responsibility of finishing the project as soon as possible. yoru would probably want the project finished in a few days. he was that type of person. i mean, it was your fault for picking an academically attached loser.

after a few minutes of walking in silence, you two finally reached your place.

“place your laptop wherever.” yoru was looking around awkwardly. your place was nice for sure. . he felt a bit scared to sit down anywhere as he might ruin something and get you upset. no, no. anything but that. .

he sat on your couch and you followed suit. you were so close to him. yoru was tensing up. you two were usually seated beside each other during lectures, but this felt different. it felt. . strangely intimate. the two of you were alone, at night. anything could happen.

the two of you got to researching. it was too awkward. the silence was loud. you decided to play some music to “lighten up the mood” a bit and clear up the air.

it's been an hour, and you looked to the side. yoru was focused. he was typing quickly. his hands swiftly moved the mouse from one tab to another. while looking at his hands, your eyes locked onto the multiple golden rings on them. his hands were pretty long and veiny too.

the silence was getting to you. you decided to ask him to check your progress so far.

he flinched. it's been a while since the both of you said anything so he was quite surprised. “huh? okay.” he checked the google docs where the both of you started your draft on.

he had a. . confused expression while reading your part of the essay. the boy looked almost disappointed. he let out a sigh.

“oh.. well, it's not that bad..” he was trying so hard to be nice. to be fair, your work wasn't that bad. his standards were just high. he got back to work a bit drained as now, he had to fix your work too.

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you struggled to read his expression. why did he look so down? you did your work anyways. “what's up with it? is there something wrong?”

he cleared his throat, “your grammar in these parts are wrong, you spelt this wrong, you didn't cite your sources properly—” he continued talking for what felt like an hour. he just had so much to say, didn't he?

he was typing quickly, fixing all your errors. his fingers didn't catch a break.

it was somewhat pissing you off how much he was correcting your work when it was completely unnecessary. he could've just let you fix it, now he's stressed out. yoru ruffled his hair and let out a groan under his breath, hoping you didn't hear him.

you just wanted to help, but he's so stressed he won't even listen to your suggestions.

you, being the worst comforter there is possible, decided to tap his shoulder. “yoru, you need to calm down a bit.”

the poor boy turned to face you. his eyebrows were furrowed and he just looked so sad. you wanted to kiss him so bad, but that's not the time for that stuff. instead, you buried him in between your breasts. okay, maybe that was a worse option, but it was just an innocent hug.

yoru leaned into the hug, oblivious to the hard-on you were starting to feel against your leg. he nuzzled his cheek against the top part of your breast. it was comfy—warm and soft. it was comforting in contrast to the stress of academics he was experiencing.

“t-thank you, again.” his voice was muffled as he said that due to him being pressed up against you.

you've done this multiple times, with different boys, but why, why does it feel so different this time around? your heart fluttered and it never did for anyone before.

yoru, on the other hand, was also having the time of his life. it was showing. his cheeks were red and he refused to show his face to you. he was starting to feel his pants tighten as he grew self aware of his erection.

“how about this? i'll give you a massage so you can take a small break.” you suggested. you both felt the growing sexual tension between you two—it was getting hard to ignore.

yoru nodded. he didn't know how else to react. how was he supposed to react when a popular girl basically smothered him in her tits and now is offering him a massage? he was winning in life. this was coming from a guy with no pull at all!

as soon as you got the go signal from him, you got on your knees. your fingers were above his zipper when he stopped you and grabbed your hand. “no, no, wait! i-i'm—” he was expecting an actual massage from you, not this. “i'm not experienced when it comes to this stuff! i-i've jerked off before but, i've never done the actual thing. i'm sorry if i don't satisfy yo—” here he goes again with the endless yapping.

that was even better for you. “dont be silly, yoru. i don't care.”

you looked so, so hot from yoru's point of view. his cock was starting to hurt from how hard he was. he unzipped his pants for you in order not to be an inconvenience. this exposed his hard, pulsating cock. his cock was long and thick, and i mean long. it left you wondering how you'll be able to fit that in your mouth at all. .

the mushroom shaped head glistened with precum, the white fluid drooling from the slit. it was twitching with every touch of your finger. even a slight budge made him shiver, how cute.

“ungh— please don't tease me..” yoru pleaded. he couldn't contain his whines and whimpers that much. you were barely even touching him, but he was so hard it made him so sensitive. he was loud—you hoped none of your neighbors were hearing his moans.

he let out a strangled moan as you tried to stuff his cock in your mouth. his hips bucked involuntarily, pushing himself deeper into your throat. the sensation of your tongue swirling around the sensitive head was almost too much to bear.

yoru was gripping the couch as he fought the urge to control your movements. he was scared he'd hurt you if he got a hold of your hair, but oh, how he wanted his entire cock in your mouth. his other hand shakily tried to cover his mouth. “fuck.. please. please please—” poor boy was scared of being “rough.”

he felt you gag on his cock which just made his hips buck once again. he was trying his best to control himself, really. yoru held your hair as gently as he could as he tried pulling his cock out of your mouth to see if you were okay. he thought you were genuinely struggling.

“y-you don't need to force yourself to take it all.” he tried to reach out to you but you kept going. your hands started stroking him. each stroke made him grow closer and closer to cumming.

as you sped up your hands and licked his tip, you felt the familiar warm liquid spilling in your throat. yoru's eyes were filling up with tears as the sensation was too much for the poor boy to handle.

“such'a good boy. my baby boy.” you kissed his tip. you weren't done with him though.

you pulled your top down enough to reveal your tits. his favorite ever.

“oh, this is..” the sight of your breasts made him grow harder. your hard nipples practically begging to be sucked made him drool. he was in a daze.

he grabbed your tits and fondled them. your right nipple was being sucked, as the other one was being played with. yoru just refused to pull away from them.

he bit down on your breast, leaving a mark. “yoru baby.. umph.” your hand pushed him deeper in between them. you felt warm liquid spilling down your thighs. he was.. cumming, again.

he was too busy being a baby as he sucked and licked on your breasts. “mmf.. mmh. they're so soft.” his voice was muffled as he moaned. “they're so warm and soft, i wish i could be here forever.” you stroked his hair.

it was about time. you got on your knees once more and this time snuggled his cock in between your tits. it was so warm, it almost felt like a pussy. it was close enough.

yoru groaned as you wrapped your soft breasts around his throbbing cock, the sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced before. the warmth of your flesh enveloped him and it has him over the edge.

“unghmf! it feels so good! shit— it's so warm!” he whined. his head fell back and his eyes squeezed shut. yoru imagined it was your pussy instead, as he tried to thrust up and down your tits.

he was getting close again. it didn't take long for him to cum all over your tits.

“that was quick. .” the sticky white substance covered your tits. yoru was still trying to recover from his high, but you got on his lap. before you could do anything, he interrupted you.

“no, no. not yet! no penetration yet. . we still have work to do.” yoru buried his face in your cum covered tits. “i'll be fine with just sucking on your tits while working.” he was so red again. his horniness made him bolder than he usually was, which totally made you forget how shy he was.

“if you don't wanna fuck, that's totally fine with me.” you said.

yoru immediately protested. “no! you got it all wrong. i do wanna have sex with you— i-i wanna be inside of you but.. we have something more important to do.”

yoru felt less stressed now. tits in his mouth, a hot popular girl as his partner, and a half finished essay. what more could he ask for?

#gokurakugai #gokurakugai x reader #gokurakugai smut #yoru gokurakugai smut #can you tell i rushed this lol

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it-was-summer · 3 months ago

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Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #4 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Y'all this chapter took so long to write. This is NOT proofread once again me and Grammarly were beefing because she doesn't understand fanfiction. Nonetheless, it is 12 am MST and here it is. Now for an overall warning, this chapter talks about so much that I was to let everyone know that I meant for this to be a dark series. That was my goal. I'm so sorry if some of these topics seem like they're too heavy for you. If you feel overwhelmed, disgusted, or just find it hard to read please remember that it is okay and you are loved. This chapter mentions miscarriages, eating disorders, gunshot wounds, suicide, etc. I love you all and stay healthy. I will try to post my 500 followers post soon! Not proofread because eepy. YOU'LL read my chapter unedited and you'll like it! (hopefully). Thanks for reading. -Love you all, Em.

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Previous Chapter: Tape #3 > Next Chapter: Coming Soon...

WARNING: miscarriage, eating disorder, catholic guilt, bisexuality mention??, period underwear, stalking, marital problem, divorce, sexual harassment, guns, knives, gunshot wound, This bitch shoots someone, suicide, mention of a skull, blood so much blood.

Tape Contents: We briefly dive into Heather's past. Adeline makes a call that gives the team a reason to visit the suburbs. Heather makes a decision. You see something other than pink for the first time in four days.

Word Count: 6,296

Seven to Four Years Prior- January 10, 20XX

Heather had to get out of Norfolk. She felt suffocated under her father’s watchful gaze and helicopter ways. He was a hard man to love and hard to be around in general. When he drank, she used to pray that he would forget about her, so she became quiet. She didn’t have many friends here anyway, so she took you out of the equation and knew no one else would know her name.

So, with a heavy heart, she moved her life away to Richmond. She changed her major to nursing and killed that quiet girl from Norfolk. She fabricated real lies that sometimes she couldn’t separate from reality. She stared at girls silently with longing and played it off as admiration if she was ever caught. Catholic guilt stopped it from growing into anything else.

She was slow to open up about her feelings and showed people an extroverted sorority girl nursing graduate who liked to go to bars on the weekend and let men’s hands pull at her hips desperately in dark corners.

Now, at twenty-four, she only thought about one thing: how good her stomach looked in this dress. She had thinned out tremendously since the move. At first, it started due to not having enough money to eat anywhere except the shitty university cafeteria. Then, it warped into something else. During its worst moments, she would log her calories or purge food moments after eating it. She could look into mirrors afterward and feel she was achieving something remarkable. Then, sometimes, she would also look at her face and think, ‘Is that what I look like’?

But tonight, she wanted to do something different, something fun. Having told her sorority sisters this, they all jumped on board quickly, agreeing to meet at the bar around 10 p.m. that Saturday. They were thirty minutes late.

Heather was gently fiddling with the hem of her short black dress, her eyes flickering towards the entrance every so often as she waited for them to walk in. This year, she wanted to be happier, less suffering in silence, and a little more smiley. So yes, she wanted to have fun with people she called friends. Despite all her efforts, she was sure they could see right through her sometimes. She swallowed nervously as she nursed a margarita.

The next time she looked at her phone, she saw texts from her former sisters saying that work had been hectic and that they needed to reschedule for another time. So now, Heather Alexander was right back at square one: alone. She glanced down at her dress and frowned slightly at its tight material. It was the kind of dress that made her uncomfortable but made men comfortable. Something always felt wrong with that. Heather always secretly knew that she felt an attraction to women and men, but she always felt guilty at the thought.

She sighed as she debated her next move when she saw him. He was the prettiest man she had ever seen. He had soft masculine features that almost looked slightly feminine, a uniform clad against his chest, and a charming boyish smile as their eyes met. Heather whispered a silent prayer that he would like her as he approached her and introduced himself as David Hernandez. How could she not fall for him instantly? Deep brown eyes, pink lips, dark skin, and a low rumble in his voice made her feel like giggling.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were getting married. They spent a few months together in domestic bliss. He got some time off from work, and she kept her last name, and they were… happy.

At least they were happy for six months, and then her world shattered around her as David was deployed to England. She cried herself to sleep the night she heard, and David stroked her back softly to calm her. Heather didn’t want him to leave her and see someone better overseas. She was sure that women would throw themselves at David’s feet, begging him to kiss them, touch them, fuck them, like whores in the street of Babylon. She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching him, looking at him the way she looked at him, talking to him the way she did in his ear late at night. She begged him to try and find some way out of it, scared to lose what was rightfully hers, but he couldn’t. He left that week.

At first, it was just six months, but then it stretched out into a year of deployment—a year spent being faithful to a man across the Atlantic. She called him when she had time, wrote letters to him, sent him emails, and constantly contacted him in any way she could.

When he got home, it was clear that all her efforts had gone to waste. David was distant. He would sulk in corners of their home on his phone. He would lament on and on about how England felt like his home and how he missed it. She couldn’t stand it. This house they bought together was his home, and it always had been. Why was he struggling to see that?

The more he talked of his deployment, the more Heather became frustrated with him. Then he started to go out more. At first, it was just to speak with some Army friends on base a few spread-out weekends in the month. Then it was every weekend.

Heather found that the only thing that could keep him home was sex. So they had sex constantly, like animals in heat. Disgusting and rutting against each other any moment they could. However, the second that it was over, he would withdraw again. He would get dressed and say he had to get to the base.

Then he was coming late, drunk and slurring, as he pulled her to the edge of the bed and woke her up with sensual touches and dirty talk. She took this as a good sign he was coming home to his wife. He was fucking her and no one else. But slowly, he stopped coming home. He would call her late at night to tell her he would stay with a friend for the night. The following day, he would come home smelling sweet.

Heather felt lost, searching desperately for something to save her marriage. She was devoting all of her love to a man who no longer wanted it, and she could feel him falling out of love with her.

Her saving grace was the morning that she found out she was pregnant. She called David with tears in her eyes and told him softly over the phone, and she heard him laugh for the first time in months. And just like that, he was back.

His soft touches, kisses in the grocery store, and dancing with her in the living room were all back. Her devoted and dotting husband had returned home to her. She could feel the dark cloud of the past couple of months dissipate and the sun shining on her.

That light lasted a good three months. Heather sat up straight as pain coursed through her body, thundering in her abdomen as she shook David awake with tears streaming down her face. Something was wrong with the baby; she knew it. He drove her to the hospital as fast as he could, but it was too late. She had already miscarried.

Heather took a small sabbatical from work and took time to think about her life. She would stare out of their living room window blankly for hours. David was attentive at first, coming home after work and tending to Heather’s broken spirit. But he soon became bored of that routine.

When Heather returned to the pediatric oncology unit, David was notified that he was being deployed again to Okinawa, Japan. He was packed and ready by the end of that month. She didn’t see him off at the airport, picking up an extra shift at the hospital to distract her from the fact that he was leaving her again.

David called her two months into his leave to tell her he wasn’t happy. He wanted a divorce. Then he hung up before she could get a word in. That’s when it all started. Her obsession with consuming anything romantic was almost debilitating. She would visit bookstores and attend readings at the public library, sometimes calling off from work to sit at home with her romances. That’s when she saw you again. She thought that you would have stayed in Norfolk. You had once told her that you loved the water. You liked how it could look gloomy and promising on different days, with mist rolling off the surface.

She tried not to talk to you. She did. She didn’t want to scare you away like she scared David away. No, no, no, she was sure it would all work out this time. So she loved you from a comfortable distance, watching you from her car on the weekends at night, leaving you her gifts on your windshield—a silent courting.

She couldn’t help herself on Valentine’s Day. She had slipped into Nicole Smith’s room without Adeline recognizing her, and she gave the table with Adeline’s purse on it a gentle knock with her hip. Heather apologized quickly, telling her not to worry. She promptly dropped to the floor to gather the spilled contents from Adeline’s bag, and she slipped a labeled key connected to a keychain that read ‘or die’ into her pocket. Once she had copied the key, she quickly returned the original to its owner.

She felt electric when she entered your apartment on Valentine's Day in a dark outfit, a hood covering her face, and four dozen rose petals in a container. She breathed in your perfume as she perused through your bathroom. She traced the spine of every book she could touch on your shelves. She gently dove into your dirty hamper and quickly pulled out a pair of dirty underwear, blood on the inside of them as she shamelessly slipped them into her pocket. Then she got to work spreading the petals throughout your apartment. By the end, she stared at her work, panting lightly as she lay across on your rose-covered bed.

She had to have you.

Present Day- March 5, 20XX

Derek and Spencer managed to get to the public library an hour before closing. They pulled your coworker, Valerie, aside. She was a pretty brunette, glasses resting on her face delicately as she stared at the two men with a soft look of disappointment. She knew that if they were here, they had yet to find you, and the thought made her feel like breaking down in a fit of tears. She fought the urge to cry as Derek asked her a question, sliding a copy of the Polaroid you had received on your windshield. “Do you happen to remember anyone coming in with a Polaroid camera?”

Valerie stared at the Polaroid with a soft frown, trying to remember something helpful. Spencer spoke quickly, “Sometime around January fourteenth, maybe?”

Valerie chewed on her bottom lip before the memory washed over her, “Yes! Yes, oh gosh, she was blonde, I think. I remember telling her we didn’t like flash photography in the library. I only saw the back of her head, but I remember the back of her head and the flash of a camera.”

Spencer tilted his head slightly and nodded at Valerie’s words, processing the information silently.“Are you sure it was a woman?” Spencer asked softly before Valarie enthusiastically nodded.

“Yes, it was definitely a woman who took the picture.” She confirmed in a soft voice before she looked down at the Polaroid with a gentle tenderness in her eyes. “She baked me cookies last week, you know?” She looked up at the two men with a sad smile and tears in her eyes. “My cat is sick, and she made me cookies to make me feel better.” She laughed sadly as the tears started to fall.

Derek placed a soft hand over Valerie’s and gave her a tender look, “We’re looking for her,” The words caused a shaky sigh to escape Valarie’s lips as she pulled her hand away quickly and stood up.

Her cheeks were red as she cried out a soft “Excuse me.” before she turned on her heel and hurriedly left the room.

Spencer picked up the picture and stared at you in the photo. The way your hair shined in the fluorescent light, your eyes and smile trained directly on the person you were talking to. You were personable, and the thought made his stomach turn. He looked over at Derek as Spencer handed the photo back to him.

The two men walked out of the library silently, and Derek let out a soft sigh as he watched the sun starting to settle against the horizon. Spencer walked beside him with his hand stuffed in his pockets, and his head hung a little low in thought.

Derek broke the silence first, “We should get back to the station to see if JJ and Rossi have anything,”

And then they rode back in contemplative silence after that.

March 6, 20XX

You weren’t sure if it was day or night anymore. All you knew was that you were starting to feel uneven. Every creak of wood, settling of pipes, and rumble of the house had your back straightening against the bed. You were sure that Heather would fly in at any moment and touch you.

A million options weighed heavy in your mind at the scenario; you could fight back again, but that would get you sliced again or worse. You could go with it, zone out as much as possible, let her have her way with you. That option made your head spin with nausea. You had to find a way to get out.

You licked at the gash on your lip, gently exploring the cut with your tongue until you could feel the warmth of blood again. You pushed your tongue back into your mouth and looked over at your day-old apple on the nightstand, half-eaten and brown. You tenderly took a small bite that wouldn’t require you to move your lips too much.

You didn’t have much of the day-old meal left; a half-full water and this apple was all you had. You chewed softly, fighting off the nausea that threatened to creep in due to the morphine.

You tried to remember anything that could be helpful to you. It was hard to think of high doses of morphine. You had played with the knob often; when you were ready to sleep, it would go up, and when you were up, it would turn down. But lately, you just wanted it to be turned up.

You tried to think of when Heather came into the pink room. She always stuffed her keys into her pockets. A plan was in the making: Get her out of her clothes, and you could get the keys.

You nodded a little despite your discomfort with the idea of her touching you again. You just had to seduce her a little, which should be easy considering that she was ‘in love’ with you. The only problem with that plan was that you had a mangled ankle and a body running on morphine; she didn’t. Heather’s temper was quick when you talked back, and rage followed if you did something against her liking.

Maybe begging would work. No, you tried that already. Why would begging work? Perhaps you could hurt yourself just enough to force her to take you to the hospital. But that didn’t work either; she was a nurse. She wouldn’t incriminate herself like that, would she? Maybe total submission would be the key.

Convince her that you love her back and somehow ask to be let out with her supervision, but that could take forever.

You started to cry softly as you set down the core of the apple and laid down, wishing to pull your legs to your chest, but the pain of one ankle and the chain around the other made that physically impossible.

You cried until you felt your eyelids become heavy, tears still slipping out of your eyes as you fell into a morphine-induced sleep.

March 6, 20XX

JJ paced back and forth in front of the bulletin board, occasionally flicking her eyes over to the photos pinned to it as she tried to chase what was likely to be a loose end. The number that had called yours and left a message full of sobs had been a burner.

Spencer had tried to tell her to eat something this morning, but as the clock’s hands crept towards nine a.m., she still didn’t feel hungry enough to try. She sighed out another frustrated huff as Emily appeared in front of her. “If you sigh like that one more time, I think I might have to force a croissant down your throat.”

JJ gave her another dramatic sigh before she put her hands on her hips: “I’m sorry, I just feel like we have no leads. We know it's a woman, but Adeline isn’t likely to be the unsub, and all her coworkers have alibis. It just feels like we are running around with our heads cut off.”

Emily smiled and gave her a gentle nod of understanding, “I get it, but you pacing around like this isn’t helping anyone. Let’s get you a drink, coffee, or maybe something to eat.”

“People who eat breakfast consistently are twenty-five percent likely to be more productive at work,” Spencer spoke up from a desk not too far from the two women.

Emily pointed over at Spencer, “See? You’re making Spencer freak out.”

“I’m not freaked out,” Spencer frowned at the comment before looking back at a file on the desk.

JJ’s smile was slow as she let her hands fall to her side and let out a soft, “Fine.” She agreed as Emily walked over to the precinct's breakroom, JJ following her.

Derek was clicking a pen obnoxiously in an off-beat rhythm. He was about to say something when his phone started to ring on his desk. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered it anyway. “Hello?”

“Hi, uhm, is this Special Agent Morgan?” Adeline’s voice was shaky through the phone.

Derek relaxed slightly as he set down his pen. “Yeah, Adeline. Did something happen?” He couldn’t think of another reason as to why she would call the number he had left with her if nothing happened. He was too focused on the case to think of any other reason anyway.

“Yeah, maybe? I was talking to one of the nurses about something today, and I recognized one of them. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner, but it was an old friend from college. She was more Y/N’s friend than mine, but I talked to her a little.” Adeline’s voice dropped to a whisper as she continued, “I mentioned that she was missing, and Heather had a weird reaction. She smiled for a second. I swear, she said she was sad to hear that, but she looked… well, for a second, it just seemed like maybe she was happy.”

Derek picked the pen back up again, ready to write down a name. It wasn’t much, but they could visit her. “What was her name again?”

“Gosh, it was Heather something… Heather, Heather, Heather,” She bit her lip as she tried to think back. “Alexander! Heather Alexander.”

Derek wrote it down and muttered quickly, “We'll look into it, thanks.” As a goodbye, he let Adeline quickly thank him over the phone before he hung up and called Penelope.

Penelope, quick as always, picked up on the first ring. “Center of divine intellect,” was her greeting.

“Good morning to you, too, baby girl. Listen, could you get Heather Alexander's address? Adeline Smith called saying that she had a strange reaction to hearing about our girl going missing.”

“Easy,” was her answer before Derek could hear the sounds of keys being tapped against and a soft humming sound emitting from Penelope’s lips as she pulled up the address: “4432 Lake Margaret Pl., Chesterfield, Virginia.”

“You are an angel, Garcia.”

“I always aim to please,”

“And you never fail, baby girl.”

JJ had begged Derek with her eyes to let her go with Spencer. It was just an interview, not even an interrogation, just to see if the connection between you and Heather went deeper than old college friends. So why shouldn’t she go?

Derek wasn’t one to put up a big fight, so he let her with Spencer. It was only thirty minutes away anyway, so if they needed the team it wouldn’t take too long for them to show up, right? He stayed behind on the phone with Garcia, who was doing her best to see if Heather had any criminal history on her record.

As the car rolled around the cul de sac, Spencer’s eyes struggled to look away from the plethora of plants in the fenced-in front yard. Pink anemones were scattered amongst daffodils, and what looked like daisies were blooming side by side. JJ rolled the car to a stop, parking it against the curb.

“Pretty yard,” She muttered as she took the keys out of the ignition. Spencer nodded a little; he had to admit that Spring came in a close second to Fall as the superior season in his mind. The flowers growing after frozen earth had kept them dormant, the welcomed feeling of the sun getting slightly warmer. It was still somewhat chilly at ten in the morning as he stepped out of the car with JJ, but he had to admit, it was shaping up to be a beautiful day weather-wise.

His head tilted back a little as he stole a glance at the blue sky above them and smiled before stuffing his hands into his pockets and tilting his head toward the house. JJ smiled and walked beside him, happy to be out of the precinct and in the early morning air.

Heather was washing the paring knife she had used on you in her kitchen sink, facing a large bay window in her living room. She swiped at the hardened blood and frowned a little at the memory. Why was she so upset with you? She could hardly remember herself when she got angry like that.

It was almost fitting, her flying off the handle over something so simple as you not being ready for her love. Was she no better than a man? Had she gotten so accustomed to men's vile and sharp ways that she had somehow forgotten how to be gentle?

She felt her hands shake as a voice came into her head, whispering her worst fear: She was worse than her father.

She let tears blur her vision at the thought as she rubbed the knife harder with a sponge, shaking her head quickly. No, no, no, no. She was not like that man. She was not cold like that man. She was lovable. She felt love. She felt overwhelming love for you. She had felt overwhelming love for David.

Her downward spiral was cut short as she lifted her weeping head and saw a black SUV parked in front of her yard. She quickly wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand and sniffled lightly as she gently slid the knife into the dishwasher, watching two people get out of the van.

Heather’s eyes were glued to the blonde at first, pretty and fair in the morning sun before her eyes flickered to the man beside her. She recognized him immediately. She was sure it was the same man she almost ran into at the hospital yesterday.

She dried her hands as she walked around the kitchen island. As they got closer, her head arched to see how close they were. Panic was running through her veins. Her gun was in her room upstairs, loaded. She just had to get upstairs; her feet were quick to try and run upstairs and stash it somewhere close before they could ring the doorbell. Just as the idea seemed plausible enough, the bell rang through the house.

Heather let out a silent scream of panic as she smoothed out her shirt, fixed her hair, and caught a quick glance of her pretty face in the mirror near the front door before she swung it open with a pleasantly fake smile on her face. Her eyes quickly scanned both of their faces as she smiled. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hi. My name is Jennifer Jareau. This is Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI, and we were just wondering if we could ask you some questions.” JJ spoke clearly as she flashed her badge at Heather, a slight smile on her lips as she looked into Heather’s eyes. Spencer recognized her, finding it strange that he had almost run directly into the beautiful woman at the hospital just the day before.

Heather laughed softly and nodded as she stepped aside, opening the door wider to let the two agents inside. “Of course,” Her hands were shaking, but she gripped the edge of the door tightly, half tempted to slam it directly in their faces and go upstairs to shoot Catherine and herself to freedom.

They weren’t on to her yet; she was sure of that– especially given their lack of people– just two against one. She was quick to shut the door behind them before leading the two of them into her living room. “Can I get you two any water? I have some juice.”

The two agents shook their heads in a polite ‘no, thank you’ way as they sat on the sofa across from Heather. Heather sat on a chair with a soft “Okay” as she eyed them carefully. “Am I in some kind of trouble here?”

“No, We just wanted to ask you a few questions regarding an old college friend of yours, Y/N L/N.”

“Well,” She smoothed out her long skirt slowly, remembering to breathe normally, “What about her?”

“Had you been in contact with her at all? Did she mention anything about someone following her?”

Heather let out a gentle laugh as she shook her head, “I haven’t really had the time to reach out to old friends lately,”

Spencer’s interest peaked as he joined the conversation, “How come?”

Heather’s gaze became a little pointed at the question. Of course, the man has to ask her, “I lost a baby recently, and my husband was deployed soon after, so forgive me for not becoming pen pals with someone I knew at eighteen.” The words were direct and vicious, but she couldn’t help herself. She blew out a soft sigh before she let out a gentle and timid, “I’m sorry,”

Spencer licked his lips nervously as he leaned back against the sofa slightly, trying to resist the urge to disappear into it. Self-isolation wasn’t uncommon for women who had recently suffered from a miscarriage. That feeling more than likely increased as her support system was ripped away from her.

JJ gently touched Spencer’s knee before she cut the tension. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Alexander. We’re just trying to piece some information together.”

Heather ran a hand through her hair before she gave JJ a tight-lipped smile. “I understand that; I’m sorry. Would it be alright if I ran upstairs for some medicine? I feel a headache coming on.” She spoke fast with a tense voice, trying her hardest to pass it off as pain with a rub of her temple. When JJ nodded, she stood up and headed upstairs as calmly as she could manage.

JJ looked over at Spencer, watching Heather walk away carefully. “She seems angrier with men than anything.” Her voice was slightly amused before Spencer frowned.

“Doesn’t mean she’s in the clear; stalking is often a form of intense infatuation, but it's also used as a way to control something. She’s struggling with two things that could be our stressors: she’s craving control or dependency. She-” The soft ringing of his phone cut off his whispered rant. He answered it, happy that at least it was just Garcia calling, hoping for a better lead than his ongoing hunch.

He stood and looked at JJ, who was mouthing for him to go outside, “Hey,” He answered as he slipped out of the front door.

“Hey, nothing is coming up anywhere on Heather’s record for criminal activity—sorority sister, wife, nurse, clean as a whistle. However, considering we don’t have much right now, I decided to see if she had any warnings at work.”

“Right,” Spencer looked over his shoulder at the front door as he walked away to stand in front of the garage.

“Well, last month, she got a write-up for stealing some morphine; her supervisor forced her to go see a therapist after Heather said that she was using it for some leftover pain she was experiencing after her miscarriage. But Heather never showed,”

Spencer was walking a little further down the driveway as he listened to Garcia talk on the phone, counting the number of windows in the house. His eyes narrowed slightly to try and block out the sun before he looked away. He licked his bottom lip gently before acting on his little hunch, “Could you check her credit report? See if there are any purchases that you can find that seem odd around March third?”

“Could I check her credit report,” Garcia repeated with a laugh, “Hold on, boy genius.”

Spencer could see the top of JJ’s head from the bay window, and he turned away slightly, finding ease in the fact that she was still there. Something felt off, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. “She went to the store, but nothing crazy. Bought,” He could hear typing, “Bleach and rubbing alcohol.”

Spencer chewed on the inside of his cheek as he asked, “When was her husband deployed again? Did she buy anything from a florist around Valentine’s Day?”

“Husband was deployed December first and,” she hummed gently before she sighed, “Bought some flowers on Valentine’s day, rose petals.”

Spencer felt that feeling when something connected in his brain, a rush of adrenaline as he felt his hunch slowly turn into a plausible accusation. The roses were just that, roses. But the bleach and rubbing alcohol? That’s a recipe for chloroform right there. And finally, Heather’s husband was deployed at the beginning of December, stressor number two. It made him feel slightly hopeful about walking back into the house. “Thanks, Garcia.” He said as his feet reached the end of the driveway. He hung up the phone, walking back towards the house at a fast pace when the familiar and startling 'crack' of a gun reached his ears.

His hands drew his gun out of the holster, running back towards the house. He pushed the front door open with his foot as he heard the thumping of footsteps running on the stairs. He rounded the corner to the living room before lowering his gun as he saw JJ bleeding from a bullet wound in her thigh.

“JJ!” His voice panicked as he reached her groaning side, kneeling low to the ground next to her. “What happened?”

JJ shook her head quickly, “I’m calling for backup. She ran upstairs. She didn’t even try to,” her eyes squeezed shut tightly as a sharp pain rattled through her inner thigh, “Just go!” She urged him as she reached down for the phone in her back pocket, her free hand pressing on her gushing wound to try and slow the bleeding.

Spencer’s eyes were filled with uncertainty as he let out a soft, “No, I’ll stay here until everyone gets-”

“Spencer, go!”

Spencer felt his spine straighten at the second command. He gave her a grim nod as he stood up, readied his gun, and started for the stairs. His footsteps were soft and calculated as he ascended, pink light flooding the floor as he approached the top of the stairs. He could hear gentle begging in a voice too soft and thick to be Heather’s.

“Please, Heather, please, my love. Don’t, please don’t.” Repetitive cries for mercy made his legs move faster until he approached an opened door. The regular-looking bedroom door gave way to a steel one just behind it before revealing the scene of what looked like a demented love nest.

Spencer swallowed a lump in his throat as he took in the scene. Gun pointed carefully at Heather as he spoke, “Heather, put down the gun. You love her. You don’t want to hurt her. You know that.”

Heather jumped a little at the sound, her pistol clicking softly as her sweaty palms tightened their grip. She was quick to turn her body around to face him with the gun aimed directly at him as she spoke. “Don’t pretend like you know me or her. You don’t know our relationship. She wants this just as much as I do.”

“You know she doesn’t look at her. Look at what you’re doing to her.”

Heather’s eyes drifted to you, chained to the bed, watching as you hyperventilate softly. Heather felt her bottom lip quiver before she looked back at Spencer. “She’s just scared. You’re making me do this. She knows you’re making me do this.”

Spencer’s eyes drifted to your crying form on the bed, trying to keep your sobs quiet as you stared at him with wild eyes. He glanced over at the morphine drip next to your bed before his eyes settled back on Heather. His lips parted to say something more, but she cut him off quickly, “Put your gun down, and I won’t do it.”

Heather’s body language gives her away as she motions for him to put his gun down, her eyes crazed and large, her hands shaking and rigid against her pistol. “I’m not going to-”

“Put your fucking, gun down, or she dies,” Heather yells so loud that it elicits a soft sob from your lips, your arms coming up to protect your head, ready for the shot to be administered and for your brains to be blown out in front of Spencer in that very moment.

Spencer holds up both of his hands at that; he swears he can hear the soft sounds of sirens in the distance as he lowers his gun to the floor slowly, his foot gently kicking the gun away with a soft ‘clack.’

“Now you,” his calm voice says as he raises his hands, inching closer. Tears stream down Heather’s face now as she shakes her head gently.

“I have to,” Is her tear-soaked reply as she keeps the barrel pointed at Spencer’s head, her fingers twitching lightly as they move for the trigger. Your shaking voice cuts through the scene, and Spencer is pretty sure it’s the only thing that is stopping him from diving for his gun a few feet from him.

“Heather, baby,” Your voice betrays you as you speak the pet name, coming off a little too forced, but you continue anyway. “He can help. You don’t have to hurt anyone else. We can be happy, and we can get away. He can help, right?” Your arms relax around your head slowly as you look over at Spencer, who nods silently.

“I can, but you have got to put your gun down.”

Heather chokes out a strangled sob as she looks over at you, watching as you smile at her. You know it’s forced, but Heather can only view it as the prettiest thing she’s ever seen—a great parting gift.

She feels spit thick on her tongue as she evaluates her options: kill Spencer and go to jail. Kill you, and she might not have enough time to kill herself. Killing herself seems like the best plan out of the three, so she holds her gun steady at Spencer as she looks at your now bleeding smile.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft, almost so human that you feel your heart clench in pity before that clenching feeling turns into pure anxiety as you see the movement of her arm. Spencer’s feet aren't quick enough for him to tackle her to the ground as Heather raises the gun to her temple and pulls the trigger.

Her body drops to the edge of the bed, sliding down it as you feel blood coat your legs. Your ears are ringing, and your mouth is wide open as you scream. At least you think you’re screaming. You can’t hear much but a pathetic muffle of the sound as the ringing in your ears increases.

Your hands are quick to try and wipe off chunks of what looks to be part of a skull off of your exposed stomach, and you can’t seem to stop staring at Heather’s limp body at the edge of the bed. The image of her mangled head oozing blood has you gagging softly, feeling yourself getting ready to be sick before you feel two hands cup your face.

You’re screaming or sobbing; you can’t tell anymore as Spencer Reid’s face blocks the view. He keeps your face steady in his hands as you try to read his lips, your breathing heavy as he strokes your hair gently. His voice creeps in through the ringing until you eventually hear the soft repetition of, “I got you, look at me. Just keep looking at me; you’re safe.”

You feel your breathing slow, your arms reaching up to grab him before your eyes roll back as your body slumps against Spencer’s, and everything is engulfed in black.

Tag List: @dollykisses4reid @babyspiderling @cocobean16 @kodzukenie333 @mmmunson

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