#i worked a night shift and it turned me upside down LOL

[weirdmorefics]

My Birdy Took Flight

A/N- I am aware I really need to write my asks and my Spencer Reid story but I am currently obsessed with Simon Riley okay!

Simon Riley x Sniper Reader

Readers pronouns- She/her

TW- Swearing, falling, injuries, and military inaccuracies but I mean it's COD and they have a zombie game so are going to attack them too? lol

Summary- Who knew the complete off-the-books mission would go off the rails and leave you with the worst rope burns of your life. The injuries however were not the scary part it was having to face Ghost and admit you fell out of the heli.

Word Count- 1991

This mission was completely off the books, asshole Shephard did not care at all that Kate had been taken hostage and would not send reinforcements for help. I've been working with Price and Kate since I was a recruit they are my family. There was no way I was leaving Kate to be killed. The plan was simple enough I stayed in the heli for overwatch while Price, Gaz, and Farah worked their way up the line. Things were going smoothly I've worked with Nik before he is one hell of a pilot. Things however took a turn for the worse an explosive hit the copter and I fucking fell out. I'm sure Nik and Captian thought I died for a moment but I was bloody hanging from the rope. I am lucky my sniper skills are still top-notch when I'm hanging upside down though I would prefer not to test it again. After that hiccup, we recovered Kate and she luckily had no physical injuries.

We returned to base that night and Price insisted I go to the med bay to get checked out. To quote his words, "You look like shit kid, get the hell to med bay before I drag you myself."

The medic rushed to treat me, but something told me that was Price's doing. They wanted to keep me here for observation due to my concussion from the explosion impact. I begged them not to I'd sleep way better in the barracks I hate the sanitary hospital smell, I even prefer the smell of gunpowder. The medic would not take no for an answer I wanted to fight them harder but they said they preferred my anger to Price's wrath. The medic left shortly after and would return sporadically to do random vital checks. At least I knew the concussion wasn't that bad as it didn't beckon me toward the darkness like other times. Though my raw skin kept me from finding any peace I honestly kind of miss the darkness. I spent the night tossing and turning the pain and clinical setting keeping sleep a far distance away from me.

The clock ticking was mocking me as I watched it hit four am. How are hospital settings supposed to help you heal when there is so much beeping and someone always coming into your room? Speaking of which I heard the door creak yet again didn't they just take my vitals ten minutes ago! I can't take this without thinking I launch the flat uncomfortable pillow at what I assumed would be the intern medic yet again only to lock eyes with Ghost looking as shocked as I did.

"That's one hell of a greeting darling," he says in his usual deep voice. My eyes are still wide with shock that I just hit my superior with a pillow but he takes this opportunity to speak again. "Heard you took flight today, Gaz was telling everyone."

I wince at the thought of everyone knowing I failed to hold on during the explosion and try to change the subject to avoid thinking about it, "Aren't you supposed to be on a mission with Soap?"

"Just got back. Johnny and Gaz are out celebrating," he responds.

"They are out celebrating at four am?" I question.

"You know Johnny no one can outdrink the Scott," he says like it's the most obvious thing the world.

"Well, why aren't you out there celebrating with them?"

"My birdy took flight and thought it only decent to check up on her," any other time I would have dwelled on the fact that he said 'my birdy' but he placed his hand on my welted ankle and I could not suppress the groan. His eyes quickly shift to concern and he rips the scratchy hospital blanket off me.

"Ghost!" I shout at him for having the audacity to rip the blanket off me. He has no right to barge in here and act like he's in charge, he may be the boss of me in the field but he is not my doctor and I do not care for showing off my nasty ass wounds to my team members.

He does not acknowledge my shout at him in the slightest instead his full attention is on my rope-burned ankles."What quack treated this," he growled.

"I'm fine," I try to yank my foot out of his grasp but he holds tighter.

"Yeah because the skin falling off your ankle looks spectacular," he says sarcastically.

"Wow you sure know how to treat a girl," I roll my eyes.

"Haven't heard any complaints," he says nonchalantly as if that innuendo wouldn't have Soap applauding.

"Seriously, it's fine. Go celebrate with the team," I assure.

"If you think I am letting you let your ankle get infected you are off your rocker. I am going to need names, sweetheart," he commands.

The nickname glides out of his mouth so easily it's as if he had said it a hundred times. I want to stay as calm and collected as him but I unfortunately stutter, "What names?" God, it's a good thing I'm a sniper and not a spy because I would be dead.

"Of the idiot docs who treated this," he speaks as if it's obvious.

I sigh, "It's not their fault... I didn't tell them. Price only knew about the concussion and I just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Ah so you're the idiot," he growls.

"Can you not be mean to me I did just fall out of a heli."

"Shut up you lived," he rolls his eyes, gently places my foot down, and turns to leave.

"Please don't take your anger out on the medics," I beg.

"Oh trust me darling I will be taking my anger out on you," he growls yet again.

I shiver, "Where are you going then?"

"To get some medical supplies for your dumbass. No one way I'm letting a medic treat you when you will just lie to them."

"What makes you think I won't lie to you?" I tease well aware that I am in no place to be teasing.

He chuckles an evil kind still it's one of the best I've heard, "Me and you both know you aren't capable of it."

He exits the room and I am unsure if I want to slap him or rip that mask off and kiss him... I am definitely incapable of either. I may be able to beat Soap, Gaz, and even Price on the mat but no one can best Ghost. I, unfortunately, hear him shouting at medics for a damn first aid kit... so much for him taking out his anger on me.

He returns rather quickly but does not speak as he meticulously places the first aid supplies by my bedside.

He pours some alcohol on my rope burn and I hiss loudly, "shit a little warning would be nice."

"You would have just fought harder. Need to clean the debris out who fuckin knows how old that rope was."

"Aw is Ghosty worried about me," I pout.

"Thought I told you and Johnny to stop calling me that, you want me to make this hurt worse than it already does?"

I roll my eyes at him and in response, he presses the gauze harder than necessary. "You asshole!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I can see his wicked smile through his balaclava.

"Yeah sure," I huff. "You know..." I smile mischievously. "This would go a lot faster if you just kissed it better."

"Oh really," I could hear the grin in his voice. I was expecting him to make some snide comment in return instead he finishes wrapping my ankle and lifts his mask to rest on the bridge of his nose.

I am sure my eyes widen to the size of saucers. I feel like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. His grin widens it could only be compared to the Cheshire cat's smile. He gently lifts my ankle to his lips but does not stop there. He places delicate kisses all the way up to my thigh. I think I have officially stopped breathing. Then my heart decides to do the most embarrassing thing ever. It speeds up so atrociously fast that the monitors start beeping incredibly loud. That's it I have officially died there is no coming back my face is melting off from how flushed I am.

Ghost sits back and laughs and I mean properly laughs, I have never seen him like this. "This is a good look on you birdy all red and flustered, all for me too." He pulls his mask back down but I can still see the smile in his eyes.

"Shut up! I am a highly trained sought-after sniper, I don't get flustered!" I feel like that would have sounded better if I didn't stutter each word.

Ghost glances at my heart rate monitor, "Your heart says otherwise."

A medic comes in as the dumb machine won't stop beating, "Are you alright? You're looking quite flushed and your blood pressure is higher than it was when you first came in."

I swear I could see the smugness radiating off Ghost. God I want to strangle him.

"She's fine thanks to me," his eyes squint at me and I know he has a huge grin under that balaclava. He then turns to the medic, "Don't you know the 141 are notorious liars and the worst patients! Next time call me down here as soon as she is being treated."

The poor medic flinches at Ghost's rough voice and can barely whisper, "Yes, sir"

I mouth, 'I'm so sorry," to the medic he looks appreciative.

The medic flees as soon as my blood pressure normalizes. Ghost roughly throws his body onto the uncomfortable hospital chair and groans.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be going back to the barracks," I glance as he makes himself comfortable well as comfortable as one can be in a torn hospital chair.

"In a rush to get rid of me birdy?"

"Is that name going to become a thing," I roll my eyes.

"Only for me, if anyone else has the nerve to call you that I'll gut them," he replies.

"Even Johnny?"

"Especially Johnny," He grins.

I smile, "Seriously Ghost you should go sleep in your own bed that chair cannot be comfortable. I'd be in my bed if they would let me escape."

"I know you can't stand hospitals, I won't let you be sleepless and cranky alone."

"Fine, then at least share the bed with me, I forbid you from sleeping on that fifty-year-old chair."

"The fact that you think you can forbid me from doing anything sweetheart is laughable. Are you sure you want me to be over there might make your heart monitor scream again?" He makes his way over to the bed despite his words.

I roll my eyes, "I'll manage."

He lays on the small hospital bed and takes up ninety percent of it but I don't mind it because it doesn't smell like hand sanitizer and blood anymore it smells like him.

"Goodnight birdy," he kisses the top of my head and my heartrate monitor instantly starts beeping annoyingly again.

"Goddammit," I groan and he just laughs.

"You would make a terrible spy with all those emotions, you're lucky the red face works on you." he chuckles.

"You're just jealous of my amazing sniping abilities you must point out my flaws," I poke his chest.

"You ain't got no flaws birdy except the fact that you're stubborn as hell. Now go to sleep before I knock you out myself."

"Yes LT.," I fake salute him and he rolls his eyes.

Sleep comes so much faster in the med bay when you aren't alone, I wish falling asleep would always be this easy.

#simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #ghost simon riley #ghost simon riley x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty x y/n

[scooplery]

liz is it gonna be collage club today! 👀 i don't remember what tome (argh i've already written this like 5 times bc delete button doesn't work in asks rn i meant TIME) you usually post the prompts but my week is now divided into Before Collage Club Promopt (minus the O! >:DD) and After Collage Club Prompt so thank you for making something so gu ARGH FUN! hope you have a good day! :D

I USUALLY SET IT TO POST ON WEDNESDAYS BUT I'M STUPID THIS WEEK, i will pick & post as soon as i get home!!!!!!

#i worked a night shift and it turned me upside down LOL #i usually have tuesdays and wednesdays off. duhdoy

[saturnville]

centavito, jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x she (black fem oc/reader) warning: none. just short. content: he wants her back and the chance is small, but he bets on his lucky coin that it'll work in his favor. song reference: centavito by romeo santos. an: it's been over 6 years since I wrote a football-related fic, so please give me some grace lol. and ofc, when I saw that there weren't many jude fics with a black reader/oc, I had slide one in there.

“I learned my lesson and I have been miserable without you. Please…one more chance.” 

The coin he twirled in his pocket was warm. His hands had fisted it tightly the entire walk to her front door. When he spoke, he turned it between his index finger and thumb over and over. There was only one way that it could go and that was up. So he hoped. 

She heard the voice of her grandmother in her ears as he took in his words. “If he fools you once, that’s on him! But, if he fools you again, he can’t be solely responsible. So, some people do change and I’m not gonna tell you he hasn’t, but it’s up to you to discern that for yourself, baby.” 

He didn’t cheat on her. He wasn’t mean, conniving, or deceitful. He simply didn’t appreciate her. When his life turned upside down and he became the wonder boy of the world, he forgot about her. She was pushed into the shadows when he promised she’d always be in the light. 

Suddenly, her rants about university exams and assignments weren’t interesting. Her love for the arts wasn’t fascinating. Long nights watching La Casa de Papel in her living room weren’t fun. Their nights in the kitchen trying new recipes were no longer a priority. She was no longer a priority. 

So, she left. She slid the promise ring off her middle finger, dropped it on his nightstand, and with tears in her eyes (and her head held high), she gathered her purse and went back to her apartment. She gathered all he’d gifted her and placed it in the box meticulously. Clothes and jerseys, books and letters--all prepared to be put into storage until she figured out where she truly wanted them to go. 

And just as she prepared to move the boxes into the storage unit after they’d sat in her bedroom corner for 17 days (yes, she counted), he was on the other side of the door, stopping her in her tracks. 

He looked fatigued, which could be credited to being a high-profile professional athlete, or as he put it, “Sleepless nights without you.” 

At that moment, he appeared so small. Not physically, per se, but emotionally. His eyes, usually bright and full of life, were dull and glossy with an emotion she couldn’t quite identify. Regret?

And when he spoke, he sounded like a chile who was trying not to choke over his words as he fought back tears. 

“Jude…” she said quietly, blinking back tears. Her hand was still tight around the door knob. “I don’t know.” She wanted him, sure, but she wasn’t willing to put herself in the position through an even worse heartbreak. But, at the same time, she believed what she’d said. 

“I’ll be better for you. I can’t lose you forever. One more chance, darling…please.” She’s never heard him beg in such a way. It made her insides stir.

Her jaw shifted as her eyes darted across his face, searching for any hint of dishonesty. Nothing or the sort. His eyes spoke what his mouth didn’t and it overwhelmed her greatly. I’m sorry, darling. 

“You love me?” she questioned after some time, her thick eyebrows furrowing. She wiped away the fallen tear that sped down her cheek. 

Jude nodded quickly. “I do. More than you know and more than I’ve shown you.” 

Her eyes moved quickly—she was thinking. He continued to fiddle with the coin in his pocket. Except his movements grew quicker as the anticipation grew.

“One chance,” she said after some time. “And you earn it.” 

Jude released the breath he was unaware he held and thanked the heavens above. Slowly, she moved out of the way to allow his entrance into her apartment. He closed the door behind him and pulled the coin from his pocket. Heads. 

 He smiled small. Little cent. The odds were finally in his favor. 

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham blurb #jb5 #bellingham x reader

[bunnyyamor]

daddy kink

[ OCTOBER 27TH ] TOJI FUSHIGURO x fem! reader (step-dad au)

synopsis; you had wanted to trick or treat with your whole family but your mom was busy on halloween night. so instead you were stuck trick or treating with your step dad. wk; 3k

warnings; mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, dark content, daddy kink, pseudo-incest, age gaps, pet-names, public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, enemies-to-lovers, jealous! toji, over protective! toji, dirty talk, beta read!

notes; so i changed the layout a wee bit, but this is by far my fav fic i think ive written. idk its my style aesthetic and i love her lol. also toji is one of my favs cuz he is so fine so enjoy bbys. pls remember to unhide mature posts in tumblr settings and comment, like and reblog!

-nav : kinktober m.list : kinktober taglist

“so i’m thinking we’ll hit up the neighbors house, then maybe go egg some houses.” your mother raised her brow with a glare. “then we can come back home and eat all our candy while watching spoooooky movies,” you moved your fingers in a scary way. “that’s the plan. so what are you going to wear this year?”

“actually, honey. i’m not going.”

“what?” your mouth widened in shock. you were looking forward to this day for a whole year. “but you had your whole outfit picked out and everything.”

your mother rolled her eyes, annoyed, “i know. look, it’s not like i chose to not go. they have me wanting to come in for another shift.”

you were texting on your phone, pissed. “then tell them no. literally i got this day off for this, so can you.”

“it’s not that simple. i don’t know why you can’t do anything on your own?  i already told you i tried, enough, what do you want from me?”

“you never hang out with me anymore,” you pouted. “it’s always work or that man.”

your mother snapped at your face, “watch yourself. that is your step-father.”

“he is nothing to me,” you crossed your arms. “he is just a dude you’ve been with for a while that stays at our house.”

“i want you to respect him, y/n. he is a good man.”

footsteps boomed down the stairs. there he was. the man that was with your mother for almost 2 years now. toji fushiguro. it looked as if he had just come out of the shower. he was wearing gray sweatpants without a shirt and his hair dripped on his shoulders. “hey baby,” his voice was raspy as he kissed your mom. 

“jesus fucking christ. put on a shirt dude.” you shouldered him as you walked by. 

“y/n!” your mom shouted. 

you saw in your peripheral vision toji’s face darkened in anger. but you didn’t care if he was angry. he could suck it!

“what mom? i’m being a good girl.” you slid over your couch and laid there, upside down, texting on your phone, trying to make late plans. “maybe i’ll ask my friend if i can go to a party. aye, that’ll do it. i can go get wasted.” you chuckled. 

you knew your mother was probably rubbing her temple and your ‘step-father’ was consoling her. he literally made you want to vomit. he made you angry and his presence was a nuisance to you.      

“y/n, you know how we feel about you going to those parties. besides i don’t really like your friends,” toji crossed his arms. he had a way of making your mother think exactly like him. even if she was half on your side and thinking she would immediately turn her morals to his. your mother treated your step-father as if he was all knowing. she listened and did everything he told her. it bothered you so much. 

you jumped up from the couch and made your way to toji’s huge form. he was humongous, broad shoulders, muscles galore, he almost touched your house's ceiling. he was a huge man. that didn’t intimidate you one bit. “you can’t tell me what to do. this is my house, my mom, and my life.”

toji smirked, “that’s true but i also am your step-father.” he took one step closer to you. the air shifting between you two. his arms were crossed over his chest. you never realized how thick he was on his chest area. they literally protruded under his arms. still, even with his size, you didn’t want him to think he won. 

“i know who you really are. you can’t fool me. and you will never be my father,” you uttered the words so that only you and toji could hear. you thought that would break him but instead it grew a gleam in his eyes. something shined within him that made him break the smirk into a toothy grin. he was playing your game. “whatever. i’ll just call megumi and hang out with him. we’ll go trick-or-treating.”

“megumi texted me. he’s going with yuji itadori actually. so, it looks like it’s just you and me sweetheart.” toji winked. 

you threw your hands up in the air frustrated. “yay,” your mom clapped her hands, “daddy and daughter time.”

you went upstairs and got changed in your ballerina costume. maybe you could separate from him and hang out with your friends. this was supposed to be a family gathering but of course, your mother had to ruin it. 

you came downstairs and as you came down you noticed your mom was gone and instead toji sat on the couch. something was different with him. “you done?” he called out. 

you stood at the top of the stairs, waiting for him to turn around. he stood up and turned and you knew that something was different. you felt different with your step-dad. toji smirked as he showed up in a nightwing costume. each muscle outlined, his hair disheveled, and he was wearing the eye mask. he leaned against the couch, you couldn't help it but divert your eyes to his cock. it was outlined as well, and…huge. you gulped. “wow you look-”

“cool?” he slowly walked over to the end of the stairs. “not so boring?” his eyes slowly made their way from your legs up to your face. “ballerina?”

you did your makeup pink themed and you wore a cute gloss over your lips. your lips were pursed out, all innocent looking. you were all pink and girly. super feminine. even painting your nails red. you wore a pink leotard with a sheer pink skirt. the leotard was tight, showing all your curves and ass. you looked like a cake topper, a cute pink macaroon. any man would want to take a bite. 

“sweetheart, you look so beautiful. so perfect, delicate.” he whispered as his hands traveled up your legs. you didn’t have a snappy comeback. instead he made you flustered. his eyes held some kind of villainy within him. his neck curved, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he stared up at you as if you were an angel. he looked guilty and wanting at the same time. his eyes were half-lidded. you noticed the way he sniffed the air, sniffing you. his big, calloused hands looked so gigantic against your legs, covering your entire calf as he rubbed it lightly and squeezed it gently. “you ready?” his voice was hoarse. 

you covered your face, wanting to hide your emotions and feelings. you were only human. “yeah, whatever. let’s just get this over with, old man.” you pushed him aside as you walked in front of him. you realized he was staring at your ass. 

what was wrong with your step-father? he was your mother’s boyfriend! and yet why did you feel dirty? why did you feel that if something happened today you would let him do whatever he wanted to you? why did you want him to do something to you? why was he acting this way all of a sudden? 

everyone was out. the night was young as so many families walked around the neighborhood in their costumes, wanting candy. you knew the town, knew the houses, the streets so you walked around like you knew everyone, it was true you did. toji looked at you with pride. the way you walked around, not afraid, acting like you were the main character. a part of him was irked by your rudeness but also he couldn't help but stare at you. he couldn’t help but be attracted to you. 

“let’s pause here,” you said. you had put a spray around your hair and neck that was sparkles. it twinkled in the moonlight. this caught toji’s attention. you smelled like vanilla and looked like a diamond. all your sparkles catching his eye. you whipped your phone out and leaned your head against toji’s shoulder. “let’s take a selfie and send it to mom. she wants one.” you lied through your teeth. you looked away as you said this lie. 

toji grinned evilly. “mom? or more like you?” his face dipped to your height. he pushed you against a fence, caging your small body with his. you winced, finally breaking, he was winning. your tiny hands pressed against his chest, strong and plump. you were hot. toji was pinning you against the fence. his face was only centimeters away from yours. “c’mon baby. you can tell daddy the truth.”

“i-i-it’s. okay fine. doesn’t matter. mom will like it.” you shouted, hiding your face. you were never bashful or shy! why were you becoming like this? he made you this way!

“okay, let’s send her a selfie.” toji all of a sudden picked you up, arm under your ass as his big hands gripped your plump thighs. “what the fuck?” your body was placed on his shoulder. the sides of your leotard rising higher from the movement. your heart was beating faster than ever before. “toji, what are you doing-”

“toji? angel, i’m your step-father. call me daddy.”

you gulped, “f-fine. what are you doing, daddy?” you felt the heat rush to your cheeks. you also felt wetness down at the name. 

“i’m taking a picture with my sweet baby girl. alright, say cheese!”

you hated him. hated him more than ever in this moment. he was playing with you and your mom. he was messing with your mind. you knew it wasn’t because he actually liked you, it was because he wanted to get back at you for earlier. “n-no! i don’t have to listen to you.” you crossed your arms. the side of your ass was pressed next to toji’s face. toji raised his brow and shook his head, “good girls listen.” his mouth then turned to bite a piece of your ass peeking from the leotard. it was a light bite and then his tongue peaked out and licked the bite. “c’mon, smile.” 

you jumped but was held still by toji. “toji-i mean, daddy!” your step-father just bit your ass. and you liked it. you liked it so much. you wiggled on his shoulder. finally, you smiled and toji took the selfie. he came out so attractive. his jawline was prominent in the photo, he looked like a model. his smirk making his scar above his lip prominent. you were wide eyed looking innocent in the camera. more from what toji just did seconds ago and from where you were seated. toji carried you like you weighed nothing.

he put you back down and you felt dizzy from everything. what were you feeling? “send me that picture,” toji’s hands landed on your shoulder then traveled up to around your neck, caressing your skin there. “i think you look so beautiful in it.”

why were you so quiet? you decided, toji wasn’t going to win. you were going to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

you both went to a door. you knew who lived there. it was a guy that you knew had a crush on you from when you both were in high school. of course, you never liked him but you wanted toji to realize you didn’t care about him and his actions. 

toji knocked the door for you. he was behind you most of the day, keeping an eye out since it was night. you weren’t going to lie, you did like how protective he was over you. you felt safe with him. he always had a shoulder wrapped around you or his hand on you to make sure you were always with him. always standing behind you, close by, so close you can smell his cologne. 

“thank you daddy.” you smiled wide. excited for what was gonna happen. the door opened and low and behold it was the guy that had a crush on you. “y/n? wow, welcome! damn, you look good.” he eyed you up and down. you felt a hand on your shoulder. it was toji’s and it was tightening around you. you looked up behind you and saw his face. if looks could kill! he looked so scary! he wore a scowl and his eyes were dark, full of anger. 

you rolled your eyes and popped your butt out to the side, placing your hands on your hips, posing. “you think so baby? aww thank you, love!”

the guy leaned against the door frame, coming closer to you. toji pulled you back so you fell back against his chest. “i’m her boyfriend.”

“wh-what?” you were about to fight toji. trying to turn around to protest but toji held you in place. “so, back off.” he threatened with a glare. 

the guy backed off, throwing his hands up, surrendering. “damn, sorry man. i didn’t know. well, here’s some candy. enjoy your trick or treat y/n.”

you rolled your eyes and said a quiet “thank you.” you bent down to pick up the candy in the plastic jack o'lantern bucket. you noticed the guy backed away to look at your breasts almost spilling over. you knew toji would not like it. you heard toji grumble in the back of you. but you also noticed that when you bent over your ass by accidently grazed against toji’s dick, you felt it was hard! “c’mon baby. let’s go.” he grabbed your arm, dragging you away. 

you both walked without saying a word. most of the streets were empty, people heading home. toji acted weird, walking in front of you this time, which was something he didn’t do this whole time. 

“daddy?” you called out to him. 

“i can’t believe how you acted. the way he looked at you.” you saw toji rub his temple and bang the fence beside him with his fist. 

“it wasn’t my fault! he was the one all up on me. i was an innocent bystander. what was with the whole, oh i’m her boyfriend?” you imitated him. 

toji turned around, anger evident on his face. “sweetheart, i saw the way he looked at you, daddy knows that look. when a man wants to ravage a sweet girl. the way he looked at you made me so angry, so disgusted.” toji’s jaw clenched. “if i said i was your boyfriend, i knew he would leave you alone.”

you were so done. you shook your head and resumed to walk, wanting to be ahead of him and by yourself. you shoved against him, “whatever. i can’t stand you! i try to like you! try to give you a chance! you think you can play with my feelings and emotions. the way i feel!”

toji grabbed you and picked you up to press you against the fence, like earlier. caging your body. 

“not again with this!” you tried to push him away from you. 

toji clenched the sides of your head and dipped his head to press his feverishly lips against yours. the kiss was passionate, heated. the smacking of lips. you tried to not move your mouth but you couldn't help it. you needed to kiss him. you wrapped your tiny arms, compared to his, around his head to deepen the kiss. 

“daddy, i want you.” you moaned in the kiss. 

“i know baby. i know.” his tongue dragged into your mouth. fighting with your tongue. both breaths hot. moaning and groaning. teeth gnashing. your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. your body was automatically attracted to his, wanting to be pressed against him. 

“we shouldn't do this.” you said. 

“i know.” toji agreed. but then his lips went to your neck. you suck in the air as his plump lips touched the vein on your neck. he could feel your pulse, how rapid it was. you were excited. you wanted this so bad now. 

“you know i hate you so much,” you pushed toji’s head closer so he was licking all your neck. 

“i never hated you. i’ve tried to fight this feeling. but you are so stubborn, such a bad girl.”

you dragged his head back to your lips. you bit his lip. the flesh between your teeth as you dragged it out. eyes directly on his. 

toji picked you up, desperately, his hands under your ass, groping and squeezing your flesh. “you in this outfit. fuck. you really were testing me baby. daddy wanted to fuck you really bad.”

you grinded on his hands. loving how thick they were and veiny. he was very handsome as much as you hated him. “please daddy, fuck me. make me yours.” your eyes were innocent.

toji finally ripped his eye mask off, so his face was plain. you wanted to see his real, raw emotions while he fucked you. he held you with one hand, kissing you sloppily, while the other hand was starting to rip your leotard. “daddy, i’m not wearing underwear! everyone is gonna see me.”

“over my dead body,” he growled. “i’ll rip my costume and wrap it around you.” he ripped the fabric of the leotard that covered your pussy. 

when it was finally gone, you shivered slightly from the cool october air hitting your wet pussy. “i’m cold.” you pouted. 

“don’t worry. daddy, will make you all warm.” toji smirked as his thick fingers slowly touched your cunt. you gasped from the touch then hummed at the feeling. he knew what he was doing. “just like that.”

“baby likes this?”

“i would like it more if it was daddy’s cock.”

toji played with your wetness between his fingers then he lifted the fingers into his mouth. eye contact never leaving as he sucked his fingers dry. “wow, sweetheart. you taste so delicious. does this pussy belong to me?”

you nodded, so hot. his fingers circled your clit, making your legs shake from the nerves. he played with your folds, stretching them slightly. “you ready?”

you looked down at his pent up frustration. it was huge and it wasn’t even uncovered. “yes,” you said low. you were scared. you never fucked someone so big as him. 

“don’t worry baby, daddy will go slow for his angel.” he kissed your forehead as he unzipped. he took his swollen cock out. it was super thick, dripping already with need. he saw you that way as well. he was very much attracted to you. 

toji lifted your legs over his arms. your pussy wide and displayed for him. “look at that pretty pussy. all for daddy. it is so beautiful.”

he was wet and you were soaked. his cock slid it slowly into you. it was perfect. he fit you like a puzzle piece. it went in, inch by inch. “that’s it. take it.” his breath was shaky. you knew he wanted to fuck you hard, wanting to dive into you. but he took it slow. finally he bottomed out. 

“oh my god,” you moaned. moving your hips for him to go fast. 

“already baby! i just put it in. you naughty girl.” toji’s hips went back and forward. both of you getting wetter and squelching. skin sticking. “but if that’s what you want, my baby gets what she wants.” suddenly, toji’s hips started going quicker. he was humping up inside your cunt, your juice dripping down his cock. 

“yesss right there. fuck! yes daddy! right there daddy!” you hugged onto him. your grip tight. his balls slapped against your cunt. his thick cock was dragging in and out. this was not making love, this was pure, straight up, fucking you. he was feral. biting onto your shoulder. 

toji grunted, pounding inside you. nonstop. he was holding you and fucking you. sweat was dripping down his temple. you were pinned against someones fence, being fucked out of your mind. toji kissed you again while he fucked your brains out. loving how you clenched around him. how tight you were. 

“god i feel so full, daddy,” you cried. 

“that’s okay. take it. take it.” toji noticed how you pulsed around his dick. he loved how every time his cock came peeking out of you it was covered, drenched with your cream. you looked so perfect. so angelic. breathing harshly, trying to take all of him. lips puffy, eyelashes thick with tears from the stimulation. your hair was starting to stick to your skin from the sweat. you looked like his favorite vision. he wanted to remember this moment. paint a picture of you this way. his tongue licked inside your mouth, opened mouths making out. his cock and pounding didn’t stop. it went faster, fervently. needing. it was unstoppable. he was unstoppable. if someone was watching let them. you were worth it. he didn’t care in that moment about your mother, he wanted you. wanted to take you to a lair and fuck you everyday every second. you were his drug. 

“daddy, i don’t think i can last longer. i’m gonna cum!”

“go ahead baby. cum for daddy.” he growled as his forehead rested against yours. wanting to see your face. wanting to see how you looked as you took all his seed. 

“ahhhhh!” you shook, grasping onto toji’s shoulders. 

toji didn’t stop. he loved to feel your goopy-ness drip on his cock. it was warm and felt like a  velvet blanket of a waterfall onto him. 

“i’m so fucking lucky,” he whispered to you. “shittt, fuck,” he grunted as he finally came. not able to last because your pussy walls pulsed against his shaft, milking him for everything he was worth. 

“i love you daddy. thank you daddy, fuck,” you kissed him again. it was sloppy, disgusting. saliva everywhere. but you wanted him to know you were his but if he could be yours. 

“i know. i know.” he moaned against your lips. he was still into you and when you both calmed down he slipped out of you. before you could even ask him anything, he ripped his top in half and wrapped it around your hips. he held onto your hand to walk with you but you tripped. you were too weak and held still on the fence.

“i got you.” toji picked you up bridal style. “how bout we cuddle on the couch and watch spooky movies?

your tiny hands touched his face in a feather like touch, “okay. also, i don’t hate you as much.”

toji walked with you cuddled in his arms, he was smirking. “i know.”

#cry baby *🧸* #jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fic #fushiguro toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x you #fushiguro x y/n #fushiguro toji x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji

[urbanflorals]

@nqds @skeelly

here is the memory lol i kinda went completely off what i had planned but eh

I feel Callum’s eyes on me all evening and I do my best to ignore him. Linette stays by my side for most of it, shooting daggers at people and hashing out plans for tomorrow.

“Hey, Boss?” Beatrice calls out turning away from her conversation with Gen.

“Yeah?” I say settling down next to a sleeping Iris and leaning up against the tree.

“What are we going to do with them tomorrow?” she tilts her head to the half sleeping royals. He is awake and so is Leahla and Julias.

I shrug, “what do you think we should do?”

Okay, in hindsight I probably shouldn’t have asked a very violent person that, and judging by the evil grin on her face, this was either going to be evil or really evil.

“I say we tie them up upside down and hang them from the tree’s dousing them in raw meat and let the hyrakas come and find them.”

Silence fills the night. Only Iris’s soft snores breaking the quiet.

I smile and look over at the royals, meeting Callum’s eyes for the first time tonight, they look almost… fearful. The green pierces me and a wave of familiarity hits me. Where have I seen those eyes before?

I smirk. “I don’t know really, I feel like Avena’s too fat to even try lifting off the ground.”

Beatrice’s eyes glimmer, “I could work something out.”

~~

 I watch the boy as he makes his way through the crowd. His green eyes are wide as they take in all the sounds and scents of the streets. I slip from my perch on the roof of a nearby stall and take two pieces of cralm from a lady, one for me and one for Iris. I bite into one of them, flavour explodes in my mouth, and I grin at the stall vendor who tries to offer me more food. The boy stops when Mrs Sarvat the elderly bakery owner shoves some cralm into his hands, waving him off when he tries to pay her. He’s never been to one of these street events before if he thinks he needs to pay.

I inch my way through the crowd towards the boy, curiosity getting the better of me. He has such green eyes. I really should be getting back to Iris who is waiting for me in our hideout. But the boy’s face melts when he tries the bread.

“You’ve never had cralm before have you?” I ask, the words escaping my mouth. The boy’s head whips up and he looks over at me. “No.” A grin spreads on my face. I wonder where his parents are?

It’s very delicious.” I say and hand him my spare one, he seems to need it more than me. I laugh at his objection, he has a weird accent, I wonder where he’s from.  “Have it, I can always go get more, Mrs Sarvat never runs out of food.” And before he can say anything else I slip into the crowd away from him to find Mrs Sarvat and more cralm for Iris. The dancing ladies providing a distraction for me to get away from the-boy-with-the-green-eyes. I make it to the edge of the crowd and slip away to a waiting Iris. She smiles at me and gladly takes the cralm I offer her.

I smile down at her, “I’m going to see if Mrs Sarvat has some more food for you. I think I saw her with cream buns!”

I turn around and dash back out of the alley leaving Iris to hide herself away underneath crates and blankets. I move back towards my perch amidst the chaos and look for Mrs Sarvat.

“How often does this happen?” I spin around to see the green-eyed boy crouching on the edge of the roof.

I startle and almost loose my balance. “How’d you get up here?” I narrow my eyes.

He shrugs, “I found a way.”

I tilt my head. “You found a way?”

“Yep.”

“How old are you?” I ask curiosity getting the better of me again. All of my natural instincts seem to leave me and against my better judgement I inch closer to him.

“I’m twelve.” So he’s a year older than me.

“Where are your parents?”

“Not here.” He’s even more closed off than me.

“Is this the first time you’ve been to one of these?” I ask him another question pushing him even though his answers are short.

“Yeah,” just like earlier his eyes shine with unbridled awe. “How… often do these happen?” he shifts to the edge as if he’s going to jump down.

“Nearly every week,” I answer I look down to the bustling street filled with laughter and joy.  

“Where are you from?” I question. “You have a funny accent.”

“I’m…. not from here,” is all he says.

He shifts towards the edge again and he crouches down to get a better look losing his balance and crying out. I fly forward and grip his wrist yanking him back onto the roof. He piles on top of me and scrambles off when he realises how close we are.

“Thank you,” he stutters.

“You’re uh welcome,” I say and move away from him sitting on the edge of the roof again watching people twirl around grin at each other through the music. The boy’s presence appears by my side, and he sits down next to me.

“Where are you from?” he asks.

I pause, keeping my identity a secret from mostly everyone is something that has protected me these past few weeks. “I’m from around,” I say, smirking at him. We both fall quiet and watch as the tune changes from the music and couples emerge and start to sway to the music. I shut my eyes and feel as the breeze washes over me like a cool blanket. Everything seems to be at peace, to be calm.

A light tap on my shoulder has me opening my eyes and turning my head to see the boy standing up and offering me his hand.

A light blush colours his cheeks and he clears his throat. “You wanna, uh dance?”

I smile and put my hand in his letting him gently pull me up. It surprises me, how quickly I let me guard down with him. He wraps his arms around my waist as I place my own around his neck. A soft sigh escapes my lips and I want to stay like this forever. Where there is no fear, no worrying about surviving the night, no grief being bottled up, no anger being built up, nothing. Just the cool breeze and comforting arms wrapped around me. We sway to the music below and just let the moment wash over us. My heartbeat settles and I find myself leaning into him more than I was expecting.

The careful quiet and peace is shattered when a shout from below erupts into the night. The boy tenses and he pulls away looking down over the edge. Ziivera palace guards parade the street pushing people over and yelling. Children start crying and running away from the guards trying to avoid being trampled.

One of the guards looks up to where we are and shouts to the others. “There he is! Up there!” I twist over and look at the boy who has gone pale.

My walls fly up, and I harden my voice, “who are you?”

The boy falters slightly before saying. “I’m Callum.” Callum as in Callum Hansley?

Hell no.

My body boils with anger. Callum Hansley?

The commotion from the guards down below gets louder when more guards notice us up on the roof. I look down at the panic and terror emitting from the people, huddled in corners trying to shield children from the guards wrath. Someone who causes this much pain shouldn’t have control of a kingdom. Shouldn’t have control over my kingdom.

I twist around and start to move away but Callum grabs my arm.

“Wait!” he says looking almost desperate. “What’s your name?”

My voice comes out cold and detached, “I’m The Silent Queen.”

#ems writes #the silent court

[ladyathenawisdom]

I know you only put snippet 5.1 up two days ago but I just wanted to tell you that it is AMAZING. If you choose to continue it I will be indebted to you forever lol

Hiiii! I'm so glad you liked it! Here's the third part!

Snippet 5.2

Warnings: Language, Past Trauma. Part 3.

Part 4

..........

Hero kept on turning and tossing all night, mumbling incoherently in agony because of her nightmares. But also because she wasn't comfortable in this bed with her worst enemy.

She turns, whimpering a whisper..

Supervillain blinks, opening his eyes in annoyance before realizing it was her making the sounds. He frowns in confusion, sitting up slightly.

Hero whimpers, mumbling under her breath as she turned her back to him. She groans and hugs herself.

Supervillain stares at her for a few seconds. He remembered what she had said, he didn't forget. It just made him pity her more, he didn't fully hate her but he didn't fully like her either.

But he wouldn't hurt her, not atleast, intentionally.

He hesitatinly lays down behind her turning to her and wrapping an arm around her waist. He feels her relax immediately, her breathes coming out even as she slept.

Supervillain smiles and finally relaxes, allowing him to sleep with the Hero in his arms.

.....

Hero stirs the next morning. She pauses.

Someone was holding her.

She instantly freezes and slowly turns to face the intruder, her eyes widen when she sees Supervillain sleeping.

And holding her.

She swallows hard, flinching away and moving away. She turns her back to him and hugs herself, slightly tired from her night terrors. She clenches her eyes close, why the hell was he holding her?

It's a few minutes later when she feels the bed stir, hearing a small groan. She turns in on herself m, covered in the blankets like a cocoon.

She then hears Supervillain get off the bed, hearing his footsteps walk towards the large bathroom. The door closes and she immediately relaxes. She sighs and closes her eyes, wondering why had he been holding her?

Wait, he didn't touch her last night, right? No, she would have felt it. And her body fel the same, except for the fact that she was tired. Other than that, she felt the same. Nothing hurt.

She opens her eyes before slowly sitting up in bed, still slightly groggy.

"Ahh, your awake."

Her eyes look up to see Supervillain walk out of the bathroom, all ready to go. He stared at her, eyeing the way she was fidgeting her hands nervously.

"Relax, I'm not gonna hurt you." Supervillain rolls his eyes. He gave her a smile. "However, that doesn't mean you don't belong to me."

Hero frowns, shifting in her seat. She hated the way that made her feel warm and giddy inside.

Supervillain keeps his gaze on her as he locks his cufflinks to his black button up shirt.

Hero slowly grabs the duvet to cover herself up, staring at him with a upside down smile.

"Don't frown too much," Supervillain says walking over to the closet. "You'll get wrinkles."

Hero rolls her eyes. "So what, should I be happy? Being here, with you?"

"Hmm, I didn't say that." Supervillain shrugs. "You might wanna get up and get changed. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,"

"Absolutely not. When I said that I would only show my face to you, I meant it."

Supervillain blinks, turning to look at her. He stared at her, like she was something else itself.

Hero only stares at him, her lips pursued.

Supervillain smiles, dark and forbearing. "I know, sweetheart,"

"-don't call me sweetheart."

Supervillain ignores the interruption and continues. "That's why only the people I trust will live here with me and you, mostly you since I will be out doing work."

"You mean being a villain," Hero grumbles.

"But seeing as your face is something you won't show to heroes and villains. I've threatened all my people, even the ones I fully trust, that if they tell your identity to anyone...." Supervillain chuckles darkly, his eyes flashing. "Let's just say, it won't be pretty."

Hero raises an eyebrow. "Is that true?"

"I might be a villain, but that doesn't make us full time liars." Supervillain rolls his eyes, he then looks at her. "Now, get up and get ready. You may look super hot like that, but I need you to be super extra pretty than you are." He turns and walks out of the room, a smirk on his face as the door closes..

Hero had turned red, her cheeks flushing with heat. She glares at the duvet. Why did he have to say that out loud?

#villain x hero #female heroine #villian x hero #flirty villain x flustered hero #hero x supervillain #villain x superhero #supervillain #supervillianxheroprompt #superhero x villain #superhero x supervillain #supervillain x hero #supervillianxhero #heroxvillianprompt #heroxvillain snippet #hero x villain #hero x villain arranged marriage #hero x civilian #hero x vigilante #villain x civilian #princess x villain #villain x right hand #henchman x villain #villain x detective #villain x villain #hero x superhero #superhero x hero #supervillain x villain #supervillain x sidekick #supervillain x civilian

[perexcri]

For the fanfic thing, please

2, 3 and 11 for To Hell and Back

4, 9, 13, and 15 a flower that resembles you

If that’s too many you can veto what you don’t wanna do☺️

I hope you are doing wonderfully, Perc!!

hi Vee!! i love all of these so i'm gonna answer them but put them under the cut because i don't know how to answer things succinctly lol

first off: To Hell and Back Again :D

2: What scene did you first put down?

basically Chapter 6: Castle!! i originally just wrote a one shot that was this chapter (with some parts that ended up in chapter 5 as well), and after a few weeks i started trying to turn it into the story that it became

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

i honestly do not know? i remember this one less for the actual writing than i do the plot and characters, so i had to dig around a little, but i did find one line i think about fairly often:

Opening his mouth, Mike tries to get the words out–any words–but they won't come. They tangle in his throat, and his own tears pool in his eyes instead. Against the burning aches in his joints, how the backpack still digs into his shoulders, Mike reaches out on his own. He takes his bloodied, cut hand and presses it to Will's cheek, just to feel the pain and know it's real.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

first of all, i’m just glad i finished a long/time-consuming creative project T_T i hadn’t done one in so long and i always feel awful because i constantly start things and never finish them, but writing this helped me prove to myself that i can actually complete long projects

i also really like that i took my own spin on the apocalypse byler concept. i know it ended up definitely taking a more serious/angsty turn about halfway through, but i like that i tried to approach them getting stuck in the upside down with a more humorous lens. when i first wanted to do an apocalypse byler fic, i tried to think of ways i could make the concept more fun for me, and i’m happy with what i ended up with :D

now: A Flower That Resembles You

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue? 

ooooh okay so my favorite line of dialogue is actually from the last chapter for the whole fic (which i already wrote because i was in dire need of some serotonin in church one day lol). so!! i can’t post it, but i’ll take this one from tonight’s update instead :D

“Do you hear it?” Mike asked in the silence of the dark one night. Just a few minutes earlier, the bells had chimed for midnight.

“Hm?” Will groaned into his half of the pillow, cheek squished up against one of his eyes.

Mike shifted a little, just enough that Will could tell he was craning his neck, trying to get a good look at him. “The sea. You can hear the waves in the distance.”

(it’s a few lines of dialogue but let’s just pretend it counts lol)

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic? 

not of this fic specifically, but like my last a/n said, there’s a lot of the world-building that i’m borrowing from an original story i’ve had sitting in my brain for like 8 years now!! the biggest difference between this fic and my original idea is that my original idea took place in a more industrialized city - think the industrializing north in the US during the like 1870s-1890s. if i ever get to working on it some more, i definitely want to keep that industrialized setting!! i opted for the kind of medieval/fantasy setting here because i thought it would work better with the characters (and give me an excuse to draw from my many hours of watching Merlin lol)

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading? 

ahhh i love music questions!! ok so i have the playlist for this fic, of course, but i listen to the full version that i have on private on my account right now. i listen to the whole thing about once a day while i’m at work, just to keep the vibes in my head so it’s easier to write!!

i do mainly remember/classify my fics by what albums and artists i listened to a lot while working on them (even if they do have an official playlist that goes with them). so, in my head, i classify this fic mainly as a Dance Fever, Get Behind Me Satan, and Love Yourself: Tear fic! Dance Fever for the vibes and religious undertones, Get Behind Me Satan because the entire album is centered around truth, and Love Yourself: Tear because that’s the album that The Truth Untold (the song this fic is based off of) is from :D

15: What did you learn from writing this fic? 

i’ve learned a lot about perseverance T_T i hit a point a few weeks ago where i was seriously considering dropping this idea for a while (for lots of reasons not wholly related to the story itself, but still). i’ve been stuck on it for a while and keep worrying i’m not gonna be able to tie it all together, but it’s a story i really want to tell, and convincing myself to finish it solely for that reason has helped me find a bit more joy in actually working on it (even if i am regularly banging my head on my keyboard trying to get from point a to point b)

AHHHHHH apologies for it being so long, but thank you so much for the questions Vee!! i loved getting to answer them :] 💜💜💜

#ask

[midnight-and-his-melodiverse]

heya! :)

andromeda, aries, phoenix & puppis for the constellation ask game

Hiya Ren!! Thanks for the ask hehe

Andromeda - Describe your main characters

Gonna do this for Midnight and the Gift of the Melody Blade!

Midnight - is a night-demon / wolf-human hybrid. Main goal in the story is to stop Dev from getting their hands on the Melody Blade and using it for malicious intentions, personal goal for him is to learn that he can't be a pacifist for long and fighting is sometimes necessary, and also to learn how to use the damn Melody Blade lol

Staticlight - is a ghostly apparition with a newly made physical body, who is in love with Dev, the main antagonist over their mutual adoration of causing chaos together!

Dev - is the main antagonist who is after Midnight's Melody Blade and also is in love with Staticlight.

Aries - Share a line that you’re proud of!

This isn't a line, really, more like a conversation sorry LOL (this is also from Midnight and the Gift of the Melody Blade, like the above!)

“Dev, would you mind telling me why the fuck we’re in a forest?”

“I’m looking for that boy with that ‘Melody Blade’ or whatever it was called, I’m curious to know about its powers!”

“But that doesn’t answer why–”

“Just play along Static, we’ll find him eventually!”

The footsteps came closer and a rustling in the bushes preceded them walking out, facing Midnight and Ambrosia straight on.

Midnight took a look at the first figure. It was unusually tall, had dark skin, had a right brown eye and an white dice-like eyepatch on the left, wore a brown t shirt with a oval hole in the top middle, had rainbow shorts below that, a pair of large black running shoes with blue at the outer edges and brown laces with gray in the middle and purple upside down crosses hung from it’s ears.

Dev turned to Staticlight with his smile beaming. “Did we find him? Did we find the boy with that Melody Blade?”

Staticlight shrugged. “I don’t fuckin’ know, am I supposed to remember that guy’s appearance–” Midnight shifted around to lock eyes with Staticlight. “Nevermind, Dev. I think we found him.”

Phoenix - How do you develop your ideas?

...That's a tough question. I don't have an answer, sorry!

Puppis - Give us a piece of advice! (about anything)

If you've been working on a piece of writing for a long time (3+ hours, I'd say), do your mind and brain a favor by not looking at that writing again for a while and come back to it with fresh eyes! (that was my attempt at advice LOL)

#answered asks #constellations ask game #purgatorydotexe

[jackrrabbit]

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #tw dubcon #tw sacrilege #tw christianity #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut

[heartcal]

“who do you believe?”; l.h. (pt. ii)

oh my GOD it’s here, it took longer than expected but she’s finally here! after the eye strain i got a sty so that threw me in for a loop, but the good news is my eyes are better! and i’m fully vaccinated too! please get the vaccine if you are able to :^) enjoy!

a/n: (formatting again lol) there’s a part where there’s supposed to be texts (in italics) so it may be a bit weird to read (hopefully not) (sorry for these parantheses) please let me know if there’s anything off!

pairing: luke hemmings x reader

summary: having known luke for years, it was bound to happen eventually. the crush you developed happened before you could stop it, and you did your best to keep it a secret. you told no one, did your best not to show it, so what do you do when his girlfriend finds out?

warnings: swearing (as usual), 

genre: angst, fluff, basically friends (to brief enemies but not really) to lovers?

wc: 5,201 (they’re getting longer, huh)

taglist: @1sosrvd1267 + @wowitsel (side note: i don’t have a current taglist, this is just for this fic!)

part one | my masterlist!

You skipped the after-party that night. You couldn’t bear standing in the same room as Luke and Rachel, so you booked a ride and left as soon as the car pulled up.

Had you stayed for the party, you would have crumbled under the looks of pity thrown at you by those who would have heard about what happened. The knowing looks that something bad had happened between two people everyone on the crew knew were best friends would have been uncomfortable.

The ride home is uncomfortably silent, but you were thankful the driver wasn’t the talkative type. The soft jazz playing on the radio wasn’t calming but it did distract you from the pain and embarrassment you felt from the argument.

Once the car had pulled up to your place, you bid a silent farewell to the driver and slid out.

You just wanted to get inside, take a shower, shut your phone for the night, and sleep until you physically can’t get any more sleep.

You’re not too surprised Luke stood up for his girlfriend. He does love her—he’s shown that with friends and with fans. But the way he glared at you, defended her without trying to find out what exactly went down…he had never looked at you like that.

You’ve seen that look before; it wasn’t something you were used to but it was the look he would give paparazzi when they would harass you, the guys, and his friends. The glare carried such strength that it would make people back off. And so when it was directed towards you, it struck you hard.

Having done what you wanted to do once you entered the house, you lay in bed with wet eyes staring at the ceiling. Your phone was face down on your nightstand, completely out of reach to the point one slight touch could knock it off.

Maybe you were the one at fault. Maybe you should’ve told the truth about your feelings to Rachel or Luke before this all happened. It could have prevented the fallout and you would be with the guys and the crew celebrating a successful show.

But what good would that have done? Had you told someone, anyone, that you liked Luke more than a best friend should, would that have caused the same problem but presented differently? Or would something come from it? Maybe nothing would have happened.

A sigh escapes your lips as you turn your back away from the nightstand, facing the empty half of the bed and before your mind drifts to more pitiful thoughts, you close your eyes.

You didn’t dream that night. It’s as if you blinked, with the night flying by faster than you had wanted and anticipated.

The sunlight beamed down on you from above your headboard. It was late morning and it was time to face the harsh reality of the day.

There is no doubt you have lost Luke as your best friend.

Wiping the sleep and crust from your eyes, you sit up and vacantly glance around the room. The box where you keep gifts from Luke is illuminated by the sunlight, and with the vacant stare you stand to walk towards it.

You hesitate to open it; it’ll bring back memories of good times and with the events of the previous night, you do not think you can handle the rush of emotions.

It’s then when you realize your phone was off, and though you don’t want to do anything social today and would rather stay home with your favorite snacks and shows, you know you have to let your friends know how you’re doing.

You stall by washing your face and brushing your teeth, albeit slower than usual. You know that once you turn your phone on, the onslaught of questions and missed calls are going to take possibly an hour to clear up.

Sure enough, as you turn your phone on, the missed messages come in, barely giving your notification tone a break and the missed calls and voicemails were coming in fast. You can feel the heat from the battery on your palm, and for the sake of the phone you switch the sound off and turn on Do Not Disturb to prevent any new calls from coming through.

The messages you saw were from the crew, asking where you went and if you were okay. Others were from the boys minus Luke, and looking through the missed calls, there was nothing from Luke.

You’re not surprised, but the pain was still simmering within and seeing no messages or missed calls from him was adding to it.

You responded to the crew’s messages first, since many of them sent one or two messages asking simple questions: “Are you okay,” “Where did you go,” and “Did you get home safe?”

Then you responded to the boys’, Michael’s first since he had the least amount of messages.

hey, you didn’t have to leave. we could’ve talked some sense into him when he calmed down (11:37pm)

did u get home okay? we know you didn’t drive here yourself. (11:58pm)

please let us know you made it home. let us know you’re okay (12:10am)

hope you made it home and that you’re safe and okay. thank u for ur work today. please text me when you see these. goodnight (12:49am)

You typed your reply to him, letting him know that you were okay and got home safe.

Calum’s messages were similar, asking the same questions but some were repeated to emphasize his worry. In response, you answered his questions like Michael’s.

But even before you can open Ashton’s messages, seeing double digits next to your conversation with him, rapid knocks on your front door grab your attention.

With a groan you stand and grab your robe from the hook on the door, wrapping it tightly around your body as you open the door and groggily walk to the front door.

It was a stupid idea, as you weren’t ready to face anyone yet Ashton stands in front of you. He’s well-rested, a stark contrast to you as you were sure your eyes were still puffy and bloodshot, along with an occasional sniffle from your nose.

His eyes travel from your face, down to your feet, and back up to your eyes. He can immediately tell you had a terrible night.

“You weren’t answering anyone last night,” he begins, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes, “we were worried about you after you left.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I just—I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“You could’ve let one of us know that you were shutting off.”

You nodded with a frown, “I could have, yeah,” your eyes dart around behind him to avoid his worrisome eyes before asking him if he wanted to come in.

He doesn’t hesitate and steps in once you move aside, opening the door wider to give him enough room. He notes your bag in a heap on the floor a few inches away from the couch, and how your shoes were far apart, with one upside down, as if you flung them off.

“How are you holding up now?”

You shrug, still avoiding his eyes because you know if you make eye contact, you’ll break down and you won’t have control over the onslaught of emotions.

“Be honest,” his voice is soft, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up.

You stare at the ground, biting the skin of your lower lip nervously. This is why you did not want to talk to anyone face-to-face. Talking to them over the phone, preferably through text, allowed you to lie to the other person (and if applicable, to yourself). But talking to someone in person, and to someone who can see through your lies, you were bound to break down and become vulnerable.

You inhale, taking careful steps to the couch and gently sitting down with a sigh. Ashton follows you, sitting next to you but giving you space to not overwhelm you.

“What happened last night—,” you lean back with your arms folded over your chest, “—was something that I feared. When I realized I liked Luke, I was so worried about him finding out and what the outcome would be. I knew from the beginning that things would never be the same if he found out, and I was afraid of the change that would come from it.”

Ashton listens intently, his eyes displaying sincerity as he listens to you list off your worries. What he saw last night bothered him to no end, and had he not exerted most of his energy during the show, he would not have slept at all and would have stayed up all night in a constant state of worry.

“So, now that Rachel knows, and no doubt Luke has caught on, I don’t know what to do. I responded to everyone’s texts before you arrived, and Luke sent nothing—not even a phone call.”

Ashton nods, swallowing before speaking, “Well, after you left, things went down that may be the reason why he hasn’t tried contacting you.”

Your head turns to face him, eyebrows furrowed as confusion embeds itself across the rest of your features.

Ashton readjusts himself, getting comfortable in his seat as he gathers the right words.

“Something happened after I left?” You ask as you shift in your seat to face him.

“Michael wanted to go after you, to at least offer you a ride back, but Calum went back to tell Luke that it was bullshit what happened. So, Michael went back to make sure they wouldn’t fight or anything. I also pointed out that he was a dick; choosing you over her when he’s known you the longest didn’t sit right with us. But he got defensive and kept wanting to leave but Rachel convinced him it was alright, so they stayed for the party. But the party was bad—the crew felt the tension and the vibes were down—,” he chuckles at the word choice, getting a small laugh out of you as well, “—it brought everyone out of the energetic and ecstatic mood we were in before the confrontation. We all kinda did our own thing during the party but we noticed things were tense between Luke and Rachel. And when the party ended, shit hit the fan.”

“What happened?”

Ashton sighs, “To make the long story short, they got into an argument when we were leaving the venue after Michael brought up your name. He said something like, ‘I hope they got home safe,’ and that you weren’t answering your phone at all. Calum and I pointed out, again, how rude Luke was to you and Luke kept defending himself. Rachel dropped an insult and something shifted. Basically, they’re done and the guys and I can finally fucking breathe.”

“Wait—,” you stand with bulging eyes, “—wait, are you saying they broke up?”

Ashton hums as he watches you mindlessly walk around your living room.

The guys have been waiting for their break-up. It’s not something they were open about, as to avoid any conflict with their best friend, but it was almost an unspoken agreement: Rachel was not liked.

As for you, it’s not like you were wishing for their break-up. You wanted Luke to be happy, and if he was happy in that relationship, then so be it. But you were not a fan of it. Yeah, you liked her in the beginning but when she started disregarding you as if you did something to offend her, you lost most of your respect for her. Now, with this news of their break-up, you don’t know what to do.

Are you happy? You don’t exactly feel happy about it, but there is some relief.

“So,” you sit back down on the couch slowly, “what am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Not sure,” Ashton shrugs, “but I recommend talking to Luke.”

You shake your head fervently, “No. I don’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“But you’re talking to me,” Ashton has a smirk, but you know there’s no malice behind his joke.

“You showed up unannounced, Ash,” you smile, “I was responding to everyone who sent messages and voicemails. I don’t feel like talking to anyone else in person.”

He holds his hands up in defense, “Fair enough, but don’t be a stranger.”

He gives you a quick hug, whispering something similar to ‘don’t shut Luke out’ before he pulls away and walks out.

Ashton’s words stuck with you for the next week. You felt comfortable enough a few days after the fact to contact the boys, eventually meeting up with Ashton and Calum for lunch and third-wheeling Michael and his fiancée. The only person out of your friend group and co-workers you have not contacted was Luke. He hasn’t contacted you either, but you do not think much about it as you’re still trying to figure things out. If he were to contact you, how do you talk about what happened?

You want to know why he was able to choose his then-girlfriend over you, but at the same time you don’t want to know the answer. You know that one day, and though it hurts, you will not be his number one. With the way he behaved that night, it felt like that dreadful moment came to earlier than expected, that he found his number one and you immediately became his second go-to person.

So it did surprise you when you were out with an old friend to receive a text from Luke.

Can we talk about what happened? (2:23pm)

You only stare blankly at the text, not even moving to type a response. You were in such a good mood, and not even this text would change it. Instead, you lock your phone and place it back in your pocket, noting to leave it alone until your day out comes to an end.

And when it does, you see that more texts from Luke had arrived, the final being sent an hour before the outing ended.

I know you’re mad, I understand that and I don’t blame you but please talk to me (2:31pm)

You’re reading these, please say something (2:33pm)

There are some things that I need to clear up with you, I want to apologize for what happened that night but I want to do it face to face. Please respond. (3:57pm)

Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting. Sorry if I’m bombarding you with these texts, I just don’t want to lose you over something that I realize now should not have happened. Respond when you want to, I’ll be here. (5:49pm)

You could only let out a small chuckle at the persistent requests to talk, and you don’t deny the small—minuscule, honestly—flutter in your stomach. You don’t waste any time responding.

Sorry, I was busy. We can meet somewhere to talk. (7:08pm)

He responds about five minutes later, agreeing to meet at a small café the two of you love tomorrow afternoon.

The rest of the night for you is spent thinking of ways to carry yourself, being completely confident, and accepting the fact that you love your best friend. Pep talks in the shower and mirror to calm any arising nerves, revising the topics you want to talk about in your head so you keep the confidence.

As for Luke, he was struggling to gather all his thoughts. In the beginning, he thoroughly enjoyed the fact that you and Rachel got along. He liked seeing his best friend and girlfriend become friends like that. He didn’t notice the shift, however, and he wishes he did before things got out of hand.

When he defended Rachel, without finding out the story from all sides, he thought he was doing what was right. To him, friendships and relationships have the same base, but romantic relationships with a partner have a different structure than friendships do, and he was starting to see cracks in his friendship before he saw it in his relationship.

When he confronted Rachel after she insulted you, he started to see someone he never saw. He remembered the times Rachel ignored you, sometimes playing it off as if she never heard you. He remembered how she would make plans with everyone and exclude you, but he always played it off as an accident (even if he knew it wasn’t). He remembered all these times he noticed a change in mood when the two of you were in the same room, and he couldn’t believe he turned a blind eye to all of it.

It hurt him to break-up with Rachel—he won’t deny that because he did love her. It’s not that he saw the rest of his life with her as they weren’t at that mark in the relationship.

But, when he did picture his future, he always saw you. He always thought it was just as a friend, someone who was just joined at the hip. Yet, he was quick to throw that away for someone he rarely saw when he pictured the future.

Which is why, the next day, as he sits at a booth near the window of the café, he carefully goes over what he wants to say. He doesn’t want to ruin the chance to fix things between the two of you. If it goes awry, not only does he lose you, but his friendships with the band and the team will take a hit since they all love you.

The bell above the door rings making his head turn to watch you walk in. Your eyes danced around the café before they fell on him.

He couldn’t help the smile the formed on his lips, a small breath of relief escaping as he watches you walk towards him. The smile doesn’t stay long though, because as you sit down with a stoic expression, the reality hits him.

“I got your usual,” he’s shy and timid, pushing the mug toward you as he eyes the liquid nearly spills the edge.

You mumble a ‘thanks,’ grabbing the mug and taking a small sip. It falls silent as the two of you wonder who should start first.

Luke makes the move first. He sighs, sitting up straight and wiping his palms on his pants.

He’s nervous. When the guys started touring, visiting new cities and countries, he would always be nervous and constantly wiped his hands on his thighs, sitting up straight and even straighter if he wasn’t slouching. It’s an old habit, but something you remember fondly as he had grown out of it. Or so you thought.

“I want to start with I’m sorry,” he begins, making eye contact but fails to hold it. His eyes instead drift to his drink, “I know what I did was wrong, and I put you in a spot that hurt you and disregarded you. At the moment, I thought I was doing the right thing because she was my girlfriend, but then—” he gulps, “when she insulted you, it struck a nerve and, not to sound cliché or anything, it felt like it opened my eyes. I saw someone I didn’t see when I first met them.”

You don’t respond, just nodding your head to let him know you’re listening.

He licks his lips before continuing, “When the guys brought up how you left on your own, I was feeling nervous and they started reminding me how much of a dick I was to you. I didn’t want to admit it myself, but now, I was such an ass. I’m just—I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“Luke,” you sigh, shifting in your seat, “I’m not saying I forgive you but I accept your apology. It hurt me so much that a friend, someone I’ve known for years was just so quick to turn their back and take someone else’s side. I know she was your girlfriend, but I wish you didn’t do what you did.”

“If I could go back and fix it, I would.”

You only nod again, trying to think about other things that need to be talked about. The one topic you hope to avoid is the possibility of him knowing your feelings—something you do not want to discuss, at least not yet.

“Did she say anything to you?”

The question leaves your mouth before you register it, and the widening of your eyes catches Luke off guard.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, grabbing your mug and taking a long sip.

“She didn’t tell me what started the problems between you two, if that’s what you mean,” Luke smiles a bit, watching you nervously play with the mug’s handle after the sip. It fades when your eyes move up to meet his, “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it isn’t important anymore. She’s out of the picture, and I don’t want to lose you.”

The silence returns, but unlike the previous bout, it’s a calming silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the air is easier to breathe and the tension isn’t unsettling.

“Where do we go from here?” Luke asks, nervously wringing his fingers.

“I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Luke,” you offer a smile, “but it’s going to take some time to ‘heal,’ if you will.”

Luke smiles again, this time a bigger grin. He nods, leaning back in his seat, “Let me know what I can do to make things better. I’ll do it if I get to keep you.”

Over the next few months, your friendship with Luke was rekindled. The guys were at ease now that Rachel was gone and you seemingly had taken her place, even though you were friends. The awkward glances they would give when Rachel was in the same room were now playful rolls of the eyes over a dumb joke or pranks. You didn’t miss out on any outings you wanted to go to, now that everyone invited would check in with each other the night before. Things went back to the way they were before Rachel.

There was a change in your friendship, however. It wasn’t something you noticed right away, but it was something you thought about at night just a few weeks ago. Luke paid more attention to you, not that he didn’t pay attention before, but this was a noticeable change where he still looks at you even after you finished talking, and would only look away from you when you caught him. He would always cover his mouth with his index and middle finger, but you saw a small smile behind them. You played it off as friendly teasing, but it tugs on your heartstrings.

Another noticeable change is the hugs. Duration-wise, they were relatively the same. However the touch lingered; if he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, an arm would stay around your shoulder, meanwhile if they were around your waist, his hand would stay on the small of your back. You played it off as a friend being protective, but yet again, it did nothing to stop your growing love.

Tonight was the first night of their tour. The boys were up to their usual pre-show antics, as well as the nervous habits; Michael fixing his hair and deciding whether to go with a beanie or a hat, or neither, Ashton was warming up with his pre-show playlist, Calum testing his bass, and Luke was relatively fine.

Sure, he was nervous because it isn’t a crowd of 500, close to 20,000, but he was calm compared to the last time he performed. He didn’t have any worries to talk about, his vocal warm-ups were smooth, and getting dressed up was a breeze. He shared chuckles with you as you both watched the others move around with tense expressions (all with no malice, of course).

“You sure you’re not on edge?” you nudge Luke with your arm as he leans forward on the couch your sitting on to fix his shoe.

“Nope,” he sits up, leaning back in his seat.

“Really?” you inquire again, doubt laced in your tone with a hint of teasing.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “if anything I’m excited about tonight.”

You hum, crossing your arms as you watch Ashton walk over.

“Ten minutes left,” he nods at Luke before walking to Michael to tell him the same thing.

You give Luke a look, wanting to get him to admit he is nervous, but all you get is a smirk and a shrug. He stands, patting your shoulder left before walking away to put in his in-ears.

You won’t deny you still don’t have feelings for him. Throughout the past few months, you were able to pinpoint the reasons why you fell for him. The small acts, the obscure things he would remember about you—especially the ones you don’t remember yourself—with the attention he would give you. It was staring you in the face, but you chose to deny all the signals to give yourself the satisfaction of thinking it was just a phase. But now you know why you love him.

Two minutes until showtime, Ashton finishes his speech and the crew is taking their places. The band stands at the opening, waiting for their cue to head out.

As you watched them hype themselves up, you noticed Luke looking around nervously. Of course.

“Nervous?”

His head whips toward you, and you can see it in his eyes.

“A little,” he mumbles, but you don’t hear it over the crowd’s excited screams.

“You got this,” you grab his shoulders to make him look you in the eyes, “like Ash said, you guys worked your asses off for this album. The fans loved it, your shows are all sold out, and you have thousands out there waiting to see you kill it.”

He’s silent, blue eyes staring into yours as they bounce from one eye to the other.

“I love you,” he blurts, loud enough just for you to hear.

You freeze, the grip on his shoulder loosens but remain.

He notices, “She did tell me something that night, and whether or not it’s true, I-I love you.”

“Sixty seconds!” a stage recites in the earpieces.

The boys turn to look at both of you, curious eyes turn into surprise as they watch your expression.

“I don’t know how long, I don’t know when, and I don’t know what it was, but I know for sure.”

Your eyes glance at Ashton briefly, not missing the knowing smile he gives you before you look back into Luke’s eyes.

“I…love you, too,” you respond, gripping his shoulders while your eyes drop down to his shiny shoes.

He doesn’t hear you over the cheers and screams, but reading your lips he knows the answer.

Luke smiles, grabbing the back of your head and kissing your forehead.

He leans down to your ear, “I expect to hear you say it when I come back.”

With flashing lights scattering across the stage, the boys run out to the stage, big smiles gracing their faces for multiple reasons with adrenaline pumping through their veins. From backstage, you watch the show you a smile, feeling high from the brief but fulfilling confession.

It’s two hours later when the show ends. Your heart is pounding as you watch the crew celebrate the successful first show.

Luke pulls you away from the crowd, into the hallway and away from the noise.

“So it was true, what Rachel said?” Luke begins, his hand still holding yours as a shy smile forms.

“What did she say?”

He exhales air through his nose in a laugh, “She said you were in love with me, and that you were trying to break us up.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you look at your intertwined fingers. He squeezes your hand to get your attention.

“I doubt that last part, but the first part I’m hoping is true in a sense.”

Your eyes meet his, adoration swimming in them bringing a smile to your face, “There may be a strong crush I have on you,” you tease, “and it may or may not have turned into love.”

He laughs, letting go of your hand to wrap you in a hug. His head dips down, his forehead on your shoulder as he breathes in your scent. He moves slightly, whispering in your ear, “Say it.”

Your head rested against his chest, hearing his heart beat rapidly and rhythmically.

“I love you,” you whisper.

You feel him smile against your shoulder before he pulls away, his arms resting on your hips as he smiles down at you.

“If you’d like,” he begins, his tone timid now, “that place you like in Seattle has a new dish. It’s our next stop…” he drifts off, hoping you’d catch on to him asking you out.

You do, laughing at how he remembered yet another thing you seem to have forgotten. It was a themed restaurant that had some of the best food you’ve ever eaten, and for days you wouldn’t stop talking about it. But you never went back to it, even during breaks, but somehow he seemed to remember.

“Yes, Luke.”

You know the shock will hit you later that night, that finally the person you’ve fallen for, who happens to be your best friend, admitted his feelings to you. But you’re happy, Luke’s happy, and with the boys’ and crew’s reaction to the two of you walking back to the area where they’re celebrating, the happiness is infectious.

On the road in the tour bus, Ashton passes you as you respond to emails.

“Thanks for not shutting him out,” he says, drinking a small bottle of water from the fridge.

“Did you know?”

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes as he finishes the bottle and tosses it in the recycling bag. “Maybe,” he walks towards the back where the beds are, “maybe not.”

You shake your head, “You did.”

“Didn’t want to spoil it,” he gives you a quick hug before retreating to bed.

Luke walks out of the bathroom shortly after, taking his spot next to you.

“Go to bed,” you slightly shift your shoulder as he lays his head on it, “you need the rest.”

“No,” he mumbles, sleep lacing his tone, “feels like a dream. Don’t wanna wake up.”

You chuckle at his nonsense, finishing off the last email before shutting the laptop and placing it on the counter next to you. You adjust yourself on the couch to have Luke lay down with you. He readjusts himself so he doesn’t crush you, wrapping his arm around your waist and placing his head on your chest.

“I wish I had known before all the drama,” he mumbles again, eyes closed, “I want you in my life, always.”

He drifts off to sleep with that, a faint smile on his lips.

You know what made you fall in love with your best friend. You accept it now, and you’re at peace knowing the feeling is mutual.

#5sos imagines #5sos preferences #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer preferences #5sos imagine #5sos preference #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer preference #5sos blurbs #5sos drabbles #5sos one shots #5 seconds of summer blurbs #5 seconds of summer one shots #5 seconds of summer drabbles #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings blurbs #luke hemmings drabbles #luke hemmings imagine #sidenote: microsoft word kept wanting to change the word 'lose' to 'love' lol #also i wish i had grammarly premium bc the amount of premium suggestions for this piece...oof #IT'S PAST 4AM LOL

[writing-in-april]

Converging Parallels

Spencer Reid x Female Single Mom Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Summary: Spencer goes to a support group Penelope suggested after the death of Maeve. He quickly connects with a single mom who’s experiences have been similar to Spencer’s.

A/N: I’m prefacing this by saying I know shit about math and am horrible at it lol 😂 so my math analogies might be horribly off 😂 This is my fifth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- this one was requested by @samuel-de-champagne-problems- this is the request- (go check out there fics too!!) I tweaked it a little bit so I hope you enjoy it 🥺 a lot of it is confined to Spencer grappling with his thoughts- but there is dialogue I promise lol 😂I had a good time writing it ☺️Thanks for all the love recently and if you want to drop me an ask for any reason you can do so here- I’m always looking for some new friends on here (I promise I don’t bite lol) Thanks again and hope y’all enjoy 🥰

Warnings: Angst with a hopeful ending, General dealings surrounding death and grief, Mentions of Maeve’s death, Reader’s a widow, Guilt about moving on, Reader’s child is a daughter

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Parallel lines were never supposed to meet, they were set on a strict path following in a similar direction with no hope of ever converging. At least that’s what was the widely accepted definition by anyone with any authority in the field of mathematics.

My own math degree was being contested by a set of two lines set on a collision course with each other, though they were not supposed to. Logically I knew that the two lines were not beholden to any mathematical equation as I was referring to two human lives.

We were set on a similar course, only slight differences that seemingly were leading us to different destinations, or at least I tried to convince myself that. I tried every night to convince myself that she was only a friend, that it wasn’t what she wanted and I was desecrating the memory of the person I still claimed to be the only person I loved.

Logically I knew that by forcing where I wanted our relationship to go, what I thought the universe wanted to happen wasn’t what I truly wanted. The reason I had boxed us in so vehemently was only because I was scared and guilty, I knew it too. I wanted us to converge, but logic doesn’t always win out when dealing with guilt.

It had all started with Garcia mentioning that I should consider going to a grief support group after the death of Maeve. Every action I took was being weighed down by her death, whether I cared to admit it or not.

Garcia had good intentions when she suggested going to this meeting to me, of that I was sure. It isn’t that I saw no reason to go to the support group, I just knew that it would dreg up all the unwanted feelings that bombarded me enough already.

The flier in my hands felt heavy even though it was made of paper it weighed my hands down enough where I almost dropped it. I could have let it go then to have it fly away, being taken by the wind, that would let me forget about it. But, I knew it would have only made me forget for a short while, I’d inevitably get questions from Garcia and my own mind wouldn’t let me forget the reality of what had happened. And, logically I knew that it would most likely help. So instead of letting the wind take it away, I crumpled the paper slightly in my hands out of frustration, moving my feet forward one step at a time to enter the building.

That’s where I had first met her. When I first walked in I didn’t immediately lock eyes with her or anything, my eyes were too fixated on the ground for that to happen.

I only noticed her when she was invited to tell her story. Her strength instantly captivated me, almost making me feel like a failure at first. Her story of how she lost her husband was eerily similar in some aspects, especially the cause of his death. The feeling of failure on my part to be strong swirled in my gut as she recounted her struggles that were so starkly similar to mine. She even had a young daughter to take care of as well, she often spoke of her whenever she told her story, almost neglecting herself sometimes- which she admitted she knew she needed to work on.

However, when she came up to me to talk after the meeting was concluded my opinion switched to view her as inspiring. We began getting coffee after each meeting, sometimes talking for hours, sometimes sitting in silence. Whatever I needed she was there to give it to me, whenever she needed help I wanted to be there too.

To see our almost parallel lives begin to converge at first felt like someone had driven a car into traffic about to collide straight into my path. My mind would not stop arguing about whether or not I should pull away from her or not, like guilt was on shoulder and my potential happiness was on the other.

—-

Guilt was eating away at me from the inside out slowly, that part of my mind would not stop clawing away any good aspect of my relationship with Y/N. The relationship between us had shifted in recent weeks, tension invading what had once been a simply platonic connection formed through our shared experiences. When it became clear to me what our lingering stares and touches were leading to, guilt had reared its ugly head to burrow its way down deep and take root.

It had disrupted my sleep even more than usual, nightmares ranging from Maeve guilting me to the visuals of her death. The images of Maeve and any time I had shared with her invaded my brain at all hours of the night, haunting me. I scrunched my eyes up tight, maybe that would banish the images from my brain. That only made the guilt worse it seemed as I now felt double the guilt for wanting to banish the thoughts about a person I still claimed to love.

My hand hit the pillow in frustration, then grabbing it and throwing it to some unknown location across the room. Sitting up, no longer being able to tolerate laying down knowing that sleep would never come, made my exhausted joints beg me to lay back down. I leaned forward to put my head in my hands, also tangling my curls with my fingers. I tried to think about what Y/N had said to me at one of the first meetings I had attended, my normally impeccable memory struggled as the memory of Maeve’s bloodied face would not leave. Screaming internally was the only thing that seemed to work to push the words I was looking for forward,

“I try to think about something my therapist told me- Although it's difficult today to see beyond the sorrow, May looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow.”

The quote wasn’t something groundbreaking or new, though the origins were unknown. But, the words still struck me deep everytime I forced my memory to call back on them.

The words she had spoken in the meeting when talking about her husband made me want to try too. She inspired me whenever she told snippets of her story to me or the rest of the group, her story had been similar to mine- with the added element of having a daughter to raise on her own.

Her strength was what had drawn me to her initially, like a moth to flame. Our relationship wasn’t even a friendship at first, just two people sharing advice (more her giving it to me) about how to deal with crippling grief.

What had blossomed since then from death and decay had thrown me for a loop. I hadn’t been expecting for this to happen, I never even thought romance would be an option for me again. I thought that I would have one great love and that our time in the sun had ended along with any option for romantic interests in the future.

Then she came along and spun my thinking upside down, not that I blamed her at all for it. She originally had just reached out to help me, not to pursue any romantic connection purposefully while I was vulnerable.

She continued to stay with me to help despite my urge to push her away even though that’s not what I wanted. I tried hard to convince myself that our lives were never meant to connect, that we were destined to remain apart.

It took many more sleepless nights for me to realize what I hadn’t seen for so long, even with Y/N reassuring me at every turn. Maeve would want me to be happy, I was sure of it. So I’d try to let myself, no longer letting myself get hindered by my own swirling thoughts of guilt that Maeve wouldn’t have wanted me to feel.

—-

Asking her out on a date had been surprisingly easy once I had let go a little of my guilt. We had chosen to go somewhere different than a coffee shop, since we already did that often. I took her out to more of an upscale restaurant than she was used to, which may be too fancy for some for a first date, but she deserved it. She worked so hard to take care of her daughter and even me to some extent.

At the end of the night we were both standing outside her door ready to go in to relieve the babysitter for the night. I had already given her a chaste kiss for the night, even though my nerves kept trying to talk me out of it. I was about to say goodbye when she grabbed my wrist to hold in her hands. She looked afraid at first, almost like she wondered if I wouldn’t like her touching me. Touch may bother me with most people, but she wasn’t most people, I’d happily share germs with her. When I did not pull away relief was evident in her eyes, then taking a big breath before speaking,

“Would you like to meet my daughter?” Her voice was shaky, understandably full of worry.

“Of course.” In the past hesitation would have littered my voice if she had asked me the same question. But, my thoughts had been slowly shifting to want our lines to converge fully and with no fear. Sure, Maeve would always capture a place in my heart, but I was ready for our lives to collide. Our parallel lives converged into one line, with a set path forward. It may get derailed from its intended path, but we would be stronger together than apart.

Ask me anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith (damn tumblr just let me tag them)

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid fanfic #30 fics in 30 days

[mysmegrace]

hey i hope your game is working normally again , can i please request the rfa with an mc who has a part time job as an animator/artist ?

hello~ yes, my game is working well now! i think it might've been the network (i heard like a day later that something happened to it, idk exactly im not very tech savvy lol). i love the request btw.

RFA with an MC who Has a Part Time Job as an Animator/Artist

--- yoosung kim:

the pandemic had effect many things in your lives.

from his university classes to your late night outs.

one of the upsides you found in the time was the fact that you could work straight from your bed now.

you couldn't think of anything better

waking up ten minutes before your start time and sleeping in the comfort of your home during your breaks.

life was finally going in your favour.

and yoosung was in a similar position.

only he wasn't working, just attending university.

the sequence of events had led you to this moment.

you had woken up alongside the sun to start your work for the day, yoosung laying right beside you about to join a class.

you rose your head every once and while to give him a smile of encouragement, yet he wasn't getting the message.

did you want to do something right here?

right now?

while he's just joined a class?

with his cheeks becoming visibly more red, he reckoned a little affection wouldn't hurt.

it wasn't like the teacher could see him.

and he wasn't about to lie and say he was paying attention anyway.

going to wrap his arm behind your neck, he glances upon your project for work.

from the first second he laid eyes on it, it amazed him.

his curiosity was peaked as he started questioning your occupation.

he'd come to realize that he never actually asked about your job, he just knew you had one.

"i'm an animator, i only work part time though" you said with a hint of pride evident in your voice.

he was becoming increasingly more intrigued.

but after you explained many of the ups and downs of your part time job, he gave you his full support.

even asking if you'd be willing to teach him some time.

but nothing too hard, he doesn't want to embarrass himself.

after his class was over, you offered to show him your past works, in which he welcomes with open arms.

you continue to knock him off his feet.

hyun ryu / zen:

"zen zen, what do you think about this?" you ran up to him saying with excitement.

he looks up to meet your eyes after you caught his attention, before redirecting his focus to the tablet you held in front of him.

he was stunned.

it wasn't something he was expecting.

he never knew you were so good at drawing.

with his mouth hung slightly open, he began saying "it's amazing mc, how did you do this?"

he was truly floored, and you took notice of it.

"i've been drawing from a young age and now i make art part time for people who would like to buy my work" you explained.

he was insanely supportive from the get go.

knowing that you were able to make an income from your passion was comforting to him.

being glad you were able to achieve these accomplishments, he wouldn't want to let you work on your own.

granted he couldn't help you, his art wasn't one somebody would invest in.

but he could help in other ways.

hence why he offers to bring you supplies, help with project ideas, and love you from the sidelines.

jaehee kang:

"i've gotta make it to my other job now jaehee, but i'll see you later" you screamed as you ran to catch the bus.

the day was a success, going out with jaehee and shopping together.

however, your words had completely caught her off guard.

shes aware that you two haven't known each other for a long time, but it didn't change the shook that came over her when she heard.

sitting down, catching your breath from the short run you just came from, you decided to check your phone.

after all, there's not much else to do on the bus.

not too long after your departure, you receive a text from jaehee.

"i wasn't aware you had another job, what is your part time job?" it read.

oh, right.

you hadn't told her yet.

but what time was better than now?

"i'm an animator" you responded, waiting in suspense for the next text.

and you weren't waiting long, as the familiar sound of your messenger went off.

"animator? that's really awesome mc, can you show me some of your work?" it read.

you could feel as the smile creeped up your face, not able to hold back your excitement.

yet wasting little time, you send several screen recordings of your previous work that has done incredibility well.

"i'm speechless, that's so amazing" jaehee responded after a few minutes.

the overwhelming of positive emotions that had just come over you wasn't unwelcomed as you held the phone ever so closely.

knowing jaehee was proud of you was enough to make you cry tears of joy.

jumin han:

"but how was your day mc?" he says, changing the topic.

he had come home with the fatigue slowly overcoming him.

the fact that his father had introduced him to a new girl wasn't exactly helping either.

you wanted to talk to him about it more, but you knew better than to make him keep reliving the moment and experiencing the same emotions again.

hence why you took him up on his offer to change the topic.

"well, i finished my recent art project" you said, sipping the wine your husband had recently poured for you.

you watched as his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"art project?" he questioned, encouraging you to elaborate.

and that you did, explaining how you made art for people as a part time job.

staying quiet for a second, redirecting his focus to the red liquid in front of him.

suddenly, he speaks up, saying "let me see it".

with a quick nod, you hop out of the seat to go pick up the project.

only to return a few seconds later, handing your artwork to him.

you watched intensely, following his eyes as he examined the piece in his hands.

"i'm quite impressed" he says, eyes not leaving the art.

"thank you" you mustered up in response through your excitement.

hearing that jumin was impressed by your skills made your day.

the conversation ended at the same speed it started, soon changing the topic.

but the new expensive supplies that laid in your little make-shift office was a reminder that he always had your best interests in mind.

as long as he could make you happy, life would be fine.

saeyoung choi:

"hey, i made that!" you practically screamed with excitement.

your time has finally come, the time you had been dreaming about since you were a little girl.

growing up on anime to seeing your animations being used in an anime made your life complete.

your attention broke as saeyoung reminded you of his presence, saying "wait, you made that?"

you turned to face his laying figure on the couch, nodding aggressively with a huge smile plastered across your face.

he always told you how contagious your smile was, and his point was proved as he began to duplicate your excited smile.

standing up to hug you, he started questioning you as if he were cosplaying an interviewer.

""when did you do this?"

"why did you do this?"

"how did you do this?"

you had to place your hand firmly on his chest to calm him down.

giving you time to explain your part time job as an animator.

how you've dreamed of this as a child and how grateful you were to be able to pursue your passion.

and saeyoung couldn't be prouder.

he felt like a father watching his child receive their first award.

your happiness made him feel incredible.

and your talent astonished him.

after the initial excitement died down, he offered his help in any way possible.

anonymous, of course.

he would do anything to make you happy.

achieving your dreams was something he never experienced until he met you, and he would never let you down.

---

00:32 AST - 08/10/21

#mysme headcanons #mystic messenger #mysme #yoosung x mc #yoosung kim #zen x mc #mysme zen #zen #hyun ryu #mysme jumin #jumin #jumin han #jumin x mc #jaehee x mc #jaehee #jaehee kang #707 #mysme 707 #707 x mc #saeyoung x mc #saeyoung #saeyoung choi #luciel choi

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.07

11/03/2020

Waiting to Exhale

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5, 871

Warnings: smut!, SO MUCH FLUFF, smidge of angst, language, talk of pregnancy for the purpose of an heir to the throne

A/N: Y’all, I really tried to move away from the smut this chapter but THOR MAKES ME DO IT! FUCK! I want him so much. Reader is literally me. lol Anywho, I wrote the end of this chapter like half asleep, just now. And I’m too tired to even worry about going back to proof it and I wanted to share it with y’all now instead of making you wait until tomorrow so, here it is. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT REPOST my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Kissing Thor is noisy. Mainly because he likes to really kiss you. His lips smoosh against your own until he’s delving into your mouth with his tongue. You’re so eager to reciprocate the affection that you greet him willingly. Your own tongue swirling around his own.

You’re hit with the salty tang of the olives from his sandwich, a spicy bite to the flavor from the jalapeños.

He kisses you slow, making it last minutes. He makes you dizzy and your heart seems to be perpetually pounding since last night.

The water sloshes around both your bodies as he reaches down to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you right up against him, breasts squished against his massive pecs.

He holds the side of your head, fingers strong and possessive as he tilts your head to explore you better.

When your breath is nothing but gasping, he pulls back with an audible smack. He leans in to kiss you twice more. Two quick pecks before he twists to his right and reaches for the large glass of wine he’d poured you.

Handing it to you, he fixes your hair before reaching to his left for a sandwich triangle. Roast and chicken, cheese, tomatoes, and mustard. You’re not even sure you like this food but when Thor holds the tip of the sandwich up to your lips you open up and take a bite.

Your mind is too preoccupied with the naked God before you to worry about the flavors in your mouth anymore. If it doesn’t immediately pertain to Thor, then you don’t have a mind for it right now.

He follows your bite with his own and replaces the sandwich on the tray still half full along with a bowl of olives and another of cheese cubes.

You lick your lips as you chew, watching his face for any shift that might hint at a change of mood.

Thor however hasn’t changed since this morning when you gave yourself to him completely. And he gave himself to you too.

Maybe it’s silly to think that way, that what happened between the two of you was anything more than sex, but it felt like it. Especially that first time.

He’d been so…there had been something about the look in his eyes, the way he touched you. So sweet and gentle. So loving.

Even now, his free hand finds the soft skin of your side and while you flinch at first, he knows to keep his hand there and after a moment you settle and are still again.

“Why do you pull away?” Thor had asked in the morning after that first time when he’d been laying with you, talking as his hand sought a spot on your side.

“I’m not pulling away.” You’d argued. “I’ve just never been touched there before by anyone but myself. It feels weird. Not exactly a tickling but close to it.”

Now he lets the surprise pass and caresses the spot once your body has moved on from the shock.

“You keep searching for something. What is it, cherub?” He reaches over to give your cheek a little pinch then throws his hand over the edge of the large bath you’d seen when you’d stolen a peek at his bathroom.

The water is steaming hot, such a comfort to your surprisingly sore body. You hadn’t realized how much your morning activities would stress it. What a work out!

Thor’s already frowned at the bruises he can see he’s left on you. You shut that down quickly. You liked the sex. You’re not about to give it up because he’s a little too strong.

Smart? Probably not. But you’re discovering a whole new side to yourself that you hadn’t known you could be. And the bruises are only on your hips, some on your ass.

You didn’t know that you could be desirable and seductive. Irresistible? Definitely not! But from the way Thor’s hands keep loving on your curves, you must at least be so to him, right? Even if it’s only in a physical, sexual way. It’s more than you ever thought you’d have.

“Nothing.” You swallow your food, tipping your glass against your lips to wash it down with a mouthful of wine.

Before you can say anything else, Thor mashes his lips to yours. His tongue takes a quick dip into your mouth before finishing his kiss with another peck.

“Mmm.” He hums, and you can’t help but laugh.

“What was that for?”

“You taste like raspberries.” He informs you, swiping his thumb across your lips.

“It’s the wine.”

Thor purses his lips, giving you a skeptical look as if you’re lying.

“Mmmmm, you sure?” He smiles, a big goofy grin you hadn’t seen yet.

The expression gives you such joy that you laugh, leaning against his chest as your body shakes with it.

Thor’s eyes are bright, happy, and he gladly dips his head down to kiss your lips as you pucker your lips up at him.

“Can this be real?” You wonder, staring up into his pretty face.

“Why do you think it isn’t? Shall I pinch you?” His hand tickles your side, grabbing gently.

You squirm and laugh, quickly grabbing his hand to stop his pinching.

“No!” You shake with your chuckling. “Stop.”

“I will if you tell me why you can’t believe this is reality.”

“I don’t know? Because it all feels too good to be true?” You turn around slowly, nestling into his lap, his arms wrapping themselves around you instantly as you lean back against him, resting your head against his shoulder.

He kisses your cheek, then rests his own scratchy bearded cheek against your head.

“I mean, it was three days ago that I was sitting in my house, completely alone and would have probably stayed that way until I died. I’ve never felt any kind of interest for anyone before.”

“I’m sure someone would have come along and fallen in love with you. You’re very lovable, cherub. Otherwise, how could you feel so good where I have you?”

Your cheeks are burning hot. If someone held a wick to it, it would light and burn.

You laugh nervously, not believing a single word.

“It’s true.” Thor insists, squeezing you against his body. “If I’m completely honest, no one has ever felt this good before.”

“You just need the affection.” You scoff.

“No.” Thor refuses your thinking. “I like you.”

He drops his voice to a deep whisper. As he says those three words, it becomes thick and heavy. It means a lot. To you. To him. This is a significant moment, and he makes sure to steal your breath with his massive body curling around you from behind and that deep voice that likes to nestle in between your ribs and make it hot there.

“We’ve only just started,” he observes. “Imagine how I’ll feel in a month.”

He’s absolutely wicked with his charm, and you know you’re a lost cause to it. There’s no going back from this now.

“And I did like you, too. Even when I first came to see you. I can’t deny that. I think it’s pretty clear by now, how I feel. But I had no idea that it was to this extent. I didn’t know that I’d go from virgin to what happened today in the blink of an eye.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Thor asks, no fear in his voice but you can feel a tension in his arms.

“Nope. It isn’t.” You shake your head, turning to look at him but he’s so close.

His cheeks are a flushed pink bronze. You realize he’s blushing at your confession much like his made you all flustered too. He’s hot for sure, downright breathtaking, but you had no idea he could be this adorable too. Cute? He’s almost like a puppy in this moment. Sweet and lovable.

You can’t help yourself, so you just kiss his bearded chin, and he quickly turns to meet your lips with his own.

He relaxes, the affection calming him? You’re not sure. But that’s what it feels like and it plays into your theory that he’s been needing the physical reassurance.

You reach up behind his head, fingers delving into the short and wet strands of his hair as he reaches over and forces your head to turn more so that he can kiss you with passion again.

You whimper, his touch intoxicating.

In response to your own sounds of enjoyment, Thor utters a small groan. Slowly he pushes you up, rises, and spins with you until your back is to the edge of the bathing pool. He turns you around, then with kisses to the center of your back to nudge you forward, he guides you into bending over with your chest pressed against the warm edge of the bath. He bends over you completely and pulls you into another passionate kiss, holding your face towards his by grabbing your chin.

Gently he nudges your legs open with his knee and before you can prepare yourself fully, he’s inside you, curling his hips around your bum as he plunges himself deeper.

You break the kiss to gasp with pleasure, the sensation growing on you more and more. As he cups your breasts, you lay your head down and reaching back to hook your hand around his bottom, pulling him towards you when he thrusts making him groan with excitement as he picks up the pace.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’s moaning underneath you. A dramatic, overexaggerated, completely ridiculous display meant only for you as you card your hands through his drying hair. He has his head in your lap, shirtless form with only a baggy pair of black sweats keeping his manly bits private. For you, his face is upside down. But that doesn’t make him any less handsome.

You’re sitting with your back against the headrest, chuckling at the look on his face and the stupid sounds he’s making for your benefit.

“Stop making those noises!” You laugh, “It doesn’t sound right.”

“Or does it sound just right?”

You chuckle continuously, scratching his scalp lightly and his mouth genuinely falls open.

“Oh, that feels so good.”

Silly man.

“Are we going to spend the rest of the day in bed?” You wonder, not minding the idea one bit.

He mumbles something indistinct. Maybe nonsense? You’re not sure. But you laugh again.

“What?”

“Please, don’t stop.” He begs.

You lapse into silence, letting this blissful moment stretch on until your mind starts to wander.

You’ve realized that the affection he’s after isn’t just that, but he’s also touch starved.

You are too, but that makes sense. You’ve been single your whole life.

It’s weird for him. He’s been with Jane for a while. Why does it feel like these displays of affection from you are something he’s been yearning for? Maybe not from you specifically, but the touch is welcomed. Eagerly.

“Can I ask you something?” You keep stroking his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp in small circles.

“Mmmmmmm…” He looks like he might fall asleep, his one blue eye shut.

“I know you said that you picked me because of what I told you my ideal marriage was like. Is this part of a marriage important for you? Physical affection? Is that what you liked about the description I gave you?” You reach down to stroke his cheek, loving the feel of his beard against your skin.

Thor opens his eye, staring up at you with a torn expression. What does it mean?

“I liked the image you painted of us.” He reaches up, caressing the back of your neck. “I should be more honest with you.”

Fuck. Is it bad news?

“Truth is, Jane and I haven’t really been together for about half a year. We hadn’t broken up officially or anything. And it isn’t so much that we haven’t seen each other just because we’re busy but we haven’t tried to see each other.

“If we had tried a little harder, I think we could have still kept things going for a bit longer, but…” He doesn’t finish his thought and instead leaves you to wonder if maybe Jane didn’t want to try? Or maybe he didn’t want to? Which is silly because he’s been holding out for her.

It’s what almost ruined your opinion of him.

“But you still love each other?” You’re confused, his love for her is so obvious.

“Many people who love each other drift apart. If both parties are not willing to keep the relationship going, even the strongest love can be inconsequential.”

His eye is trained on the ceiling above, a beautiful ornate wooden design carved by Asgardian artisans. He’s lost in thoughts. Depressing ones it looks like.

You don’t like the idea of him being unhappy. It stings a little on a personal level too to know that it’s because of his pining for an ex-love.

But you want him to know that you’ve heard him. You understand his feelings as best as you can.

“I’m sorry she doesn’t know what she’s losing.” You mean it too.

Jane is losing out on such a beautiful soul. Alien or not, Thor is entrancing.

You can’t picture your life without Thor now. Even if your feelings are still growing and nowhere near where his and Jane’s are for each other, the idea of never feeling his kiss again, his weight on you? It’s unbearable to think about.

He told you he likes you! That means something, right?

He’s also so sweet and funny. He really is a dream. If he hadn’t propositioned you during that first meeting of feigning your marriage, he’d be perfect. But no one can be perfect and you’re pretty sure he must have been desperate as hell at the time.

“But maybe I should write her a thank you note?” You place your hands on both sides of his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “If she had agreed to marry you, I wouldn’t be here. And I’m so…so lucky to be here, Thor.”

You sigh heavily, having been thinking about this since your bath at noon.

“I thought I was going to be married to someone who wouldn’t care about me.” You confess. “I thought I was doomed to living a life without real feeling. But what we have…it isn’t normal, right? This kind of connection isn’t common?”

You could be wrong. This isn’t something you’re knowledgeable about. Not even a little bit.

“No. It’s not.” Thor agrees, reaching up to hook his hand around the back of your neck, a gentle squeeze to emphasize his words.

“We’re lucky, Thor.” You nod, smiling hopefully because for the first time since all of this craziness began, you can see the life you’d imagined for your ideal marriage as a true possibility.

There might be more to it. It’s not just a marriage, but a duty. You’ll be Queen and Thor is already King. There’s going to be more than days like this with him. There’ll be obligations and maybe even things that you won’t want to do.

Days like this will make it worth it.

Thor smiles at you, his body relaxed again after getting things off his chest.

“We’re lucky.” He agrees and pulls you down until he can kiss you.

Upside down, the kiss is a little strange. You huff a laugh against his lips until he reaches up to take hold of your head and tilt it to the side so that he can silence you with a deeper kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, I’m here.” Thor announces, strutting into his war room on the second floor.

It’s a simple room, large as it is. Round like his bedroom, with no windows. There’s a doorway to the right on the far end that leads to a small tower hidden among the various roofs of the palace. That’s his strategic viewpoint. That’s where he can see invaders if invaders are stupid enough to try and come here.

“You’re late.” Loki says, off-hand, not paying attention. He's focused on what’s before him. Busy.

There’s no urgency in his voice so Thor stops just inside the door, hands finding his hips as he stands there staring at his brother.

The silence is almost endless until Loki looks up and does a double take at the sight of Thor standing there wearing a pair of baggy black sweats and a ratty old gray shirt. It’s clean. Just full of frays and tears.

“I see we’ve completely given up.” Loki observes. “One day with your fiancé and you think you can relax and walk around looking like an Earth frat boy?”

“How do you know what a frat boy is?”

“I’ve been on Earth longer than you have I think.” Loki scoffs. “I had to scope out the planet before I tried to take it over, remember?”

“That’s not something I would go around bragging about, brother. The people of Earth might not realize you’ve changed.” Thor finally moves in further, sitting himself down on the large throne-like seat at the head of a very large round table that doubles as a battle map.

This is what Loki had been focused on.

As he sits back, relaxing in his comfy chair, he sighs heavily. Happily. Hands resting on his stomach as he stares at the table, zoning out with thoughts of the copious amount of times he’d made love to you today.

Loki’s continued silence begins to draw his attention and he turns to look at him only to find him with narrowed and suspicious eyes.

“What did you do?” Loki demands, “Why do you look so pleased with yourself?”

“Hm? Nothing. I did nothing.” Thor assures him, sitting up a little straighter and clearing his throat.

Loki knows him too well. The way Thor spreads his legs, wide apart as he claims the room as his own with his mere presence. There are only two reasons his brother takes that posture.

“I know you, Thor. You’ve either defeated an enemy in battle within the last few hours of the day—which is clearly impossible since you’ve been holed up in your bedroom this entire time. Or you’ve gone and bedded some woman until you’re entirely spent.”

Thor clears his throat, avoiding his brother’s eyes.

“Thor,” He already sounds upset. “I thought you were going to wait until you were married to her?”

His demanding tone, the upset brings a sense of slight shame to Thor’s beautiful memories of the day.

Quickly he wipes that away. It was a day well spent, growing closer to you and forming a bond that will help you both in your marriage.

“We were supposed to!” Thor argues.

“How could you bed her two days before the wedding?”

“She asked me to!” Thor counters, getting to his feet as he gestures towards the door with both hands flat, palms up.

“As if I’d believe that.” Loki frowns.

“She did! I swear to you, I tried to refuse her.”

“Not very hard, I imagine.” Loki scoffs.

“Loki, the last thing that I want to do is take advantage of Y/N. She’s honest and true. She doesn’t play games and she’s up front about what she wants. She told me that she wanted to be with me because she felt it was right, not because she was required to in order to consummate our marriage.

“And honestly, I’m glad that we did it. Not only do I know now that she and I are compatible in that way, but it meant more for her to do so willingly. I wasn’t exactly eager to bed her knowing that she was only doing it because it was something she was obligated to do either. We were both of one mind on that front.”

Loki’s eyes are sharp, trained on Thor as he explains himself and crosses the room to a small table against the right curved wall to pour himself a glass of ale. He’s able to see that Thor is not lying. Everything he just said is the truth. And while he worries about you and Thor too, he can see that this is probably for the best.

He thinks about it as Thor drinks, then accepts this new phase of your courtship.

“Well, I suppose it’s never too early to start working for that heir.”

Thor sputters on his drink, coughing and gasping.

He thumps his chest, turning to Loki as he zones out again with thoughts of the copious amount of times he’d made love to you today, and each and every time he released within you.

True, you and he would have had to start on an heir quickly. It’s what the people want, as well as the Ambassadors for Earth. They want tangible ties to the human race.

Still, Thor’s heart begins to pound at the idea of your belly swelling with his babe.

It’s not an unpleasant thought. In fact, the more he pictures it, the more he likes it.

Because he’s an idiot, he tries to picture Jane like that too.

They’d never even discussed children.

Jane had been focused on her work and Thor had been too happy to step aside and wait for her to be ready.

He finds he can’t picture Jane the way he can picture you, sweet smile caressing your belly as you look up to meet his eye. Smile widening before you reach out towards him, “Come feel, he’s kicking.”

His imagination is surprisingly vivid and his heart swells.

“A head start on siring an heir isn’t a bad idea. You should spend tomorrow doing the same.” Loki suggests.

Thor reaches up to rub along his chest, right over his heart as that feeling of fullness keeps growing.

“Aye,” Thor agrees, but his words are a whisper to himself. “I think I just might.”

“What?” Loki asks, Thor too quiet for him to hear.

“Nothing. What was the threat you wanted to speak of?” Thor moves back to his seat, but rather than take it, he stands, staring at the simple map of Earth.

Loki isn’t looking at the map, however. He’s got what looks like a silver bowl on top of it, a glistening silver liquid within.

“A window.” Thor realizes.

“Just a small one.” Loki nods, staring intently at the serene liquid.

“What do you see?”

Thor only sees the silver liquid.

“Stirrings. They’re quiet, and only shadows for the time being. I sense Jotunheim.” Loki murmurs darkly.

“Laufey?” The worry is heavy on his mind now, nothing but this threat matters to Thor. In this moment, he’s got one thing on his mind.

“Perhaps.” Loki nods.

“But you killed him. Didn’t you? You saved father and mother. Another trick, brother?” Thor spits, almost angry. Mostly just suspicious.

“No.” Loki insists, giving his brother a frown. “Not on my side. I thought he was dead. I’m not sure if it’s him but it feels like Laufey.”

“What does this mean?”

“I’m not sure yet, Thor. As I said, it’s only a stirring. I’ll have to keep watch.”

“Have you shared this with the guard? Brunnhilde? Sif?” Thor asks.

“Yes.” Loki nods, waving his hand over the silver. “Sif has gone to hurry the Warrior’s Three back in case something should come before the wedding. Don’t worry, brother. As soon as I have more information, I will come to you.”

With a heavy sigh, Thor crosses his bulging arms over his hardened chest. Now his mind is preoccupied. Worries begin to grow. The safety of his people first and foremost.

They don’t have the armor or weapons to defend the city much less the surrounding human cities in the area. If the Jotunn should rise again, their wrath would not stop with New Asgard.

“Thor?”

“Hm?” He’s still mostly distracted, out of it as his mind races to plan ahead for all contingencies.

“Don’t you have a pretty future Queen of Asgard waiting in your bedroom? Did you not have something to do?”

Thor’s gaze eventually wanders over to Loki. He understands he should say something, so he nods. “Right, of course. Right. Keep me posted.”

He walks around him, through the door and back up to his floor. At the end of the hall he sees the light seeping through the bottom of the door. The warm glow of the lit fire.

Moving towards it, he doesn’t see it or the comforts it promises. He can only see the thousands of faces of his people, looking to him for guidance and reassurance. Their safety is in his hands. He can fight for days, weeks without stopping if he has to in order to protect those under his care, but he’s one man. How will he protect them all?

He can’t be there to block every blow.

The weight of his crown is heavy, feet falling heavy against the wooden floor.

A fear begins to bubble up in his chest, shifting and squirming, making him feel sick to his stomach. His hand shakes as he reaches out to take hold of the handle to his door. As he takes it, he squeezes harder than he means to and the metal groans beneath his grip.

When he pushes the door open, a wave of warmth washes over him, pulling him out of the grip of the cool hallway air.

He hears a groan from his desk chair.

Searching for it, he spots you sitting with your back twisted as you hold to the arm, turning to face him.

It’s the sight of you that clears his head and steadies his heart.

Sitting there with in his pink sweater again, this time a pair of thick wool socks on your feet. One is scrunched around your ankles, the other holding firm to your lovely, well explored calf.

You take his breath away as you smile at him, your eyes searching his face. Your pretty smile falters, a scrunch between your eyes as notice his distress.

“Is everything okay?” You ask him, the laptop behind you abandoned mid-sentence on whatever work you’re writing.

He stops by the door. It shuts behind him. You stand up and Thor’s mind is bathed with the delicious image of you again, belly swollen with his child.

This time you’re not smiling and beckoning him for a feel of a kick. Instead, you’re standing before him, your hands resting against that belly, your face twisted in honest concern.

This time he doesn’t have to imagine what you would say because you open your mouth now and say, “C-Can I help? Thor? What can I do?”

Nothing.

You can do absolutely nothing if a Jotunn army comes to freeze the Earth over. Their cradle is gone but their power comes from magic. Magic in their blood. And they’re strong enough to do damage without the cradle.

So, even though you ask, and he knows that the answer is nothing, just the fact that you ask. That adorable little crinkle between your eyes.

His mind returns and in three long strides he’s got you up in his arms. He kisses you hard, overcome with gratitude and that image in his head of you pregnant both smiling and worried. It’s too much for him and how can he show you how much your offer means to him?

How can he show you that your own strife over his feelings for Jane is unnecessary?

The only way he can think of in this moment is without words. With his hands and his lips and his body.

“Mm.” You mumble, resisting. You push yourself back a bit and Thor lets you get away but keeps you held against his body; your legs wrapped around his waist. “Thor, what’s wrong?”

Your hands are so gentle against his cheeks, caressing his beard, stroking it as if the feel of it brings you pleasure.

He pushes forward, past your little grip and buries his face against the side of your neck.

You smell like rosewater. And something else. Something just you. You’ve taken another bath in his absence. He can’t blame you after all of the loving he’s given you today.

Without another query you wrap your arms around his shoulders, one hand making soothing circles between his shoulder blades, the other on the back of his head in a supportive caress.

Thor is absolutely melting from all this affection you’re giving him.

How had he survived without it?

How had he gone so hard for so long and only now realized that he’d been waiting to exhale.

Here in your arms, he can breathe finally. Even though the weight of Asgard is on his shoulders, and the weight of the Earth and the nine realms too, with you here holding him up he can take solace for a bit.

He carries you back to the bed, sits on the edge, and you readjust your legs so that you can keep them on either side of him but hold yourself up a bit more steadily. Thor loves the way you seem to flow with his movements. You respond and he adjusts for you too.

After what feels like an hour, he pulls back to look up at your beautiful face.

“Where have you been all of my life?” He whispers, voice choked from the breath he’d finally breathed.

“I’m here now.” You nod, “And I won’t go anywhere unless you want me to.”

Thor scoffs at the idea, such a completely stupid and ridiculous thought for you to have because he cannot possibly exist without you in his life now.

He realizes it now more than before. The sex had been fantastic. Much needed. The intimacy welcomed and yearned for, though not exactly from you until you gave it and he realized that it was exactly your type of intimacy he’d been looking for.

There’s something more to what you can give him. More to what you’re already providing him with.

To his great pleasure, and he hopes to yours too, there’s one more thing he needs from you. Something that he hopes you’re willing to give.

“Let’s make a babe.” He says, and he can see your breath hitch.

The way he can see your mind go blank and fuzzy and then try to process what he’s just said is endearing. You’re always so shocked by his displays of attachment.

He can’t exactly blame you. It’s only been three days. Still, he’s felt more in these three days than he has over years with anyone else.

This feels so close to love, he’s almost certain that for him it already is. But he’ll hold off telling you until he’s completely sure. He meant what he told Hilde and Loki. He doesn’t want to hurt you.

Not ever.

“Wh-what?” You finally stutter, your lips shaking as you speak.

He smiles, reaches up to trace your bottom one with his thumb and they part for him, a response no doubt curated by the many situations he’s placed you in today. Every touch had been a request to come closer and every time you’d opened up for him.

“We’ll have to have one eventually. Soon, too. The Ambassadors will want a human Asgardian heir as soon as possible to make sure that I’ll have a reason to protect the human species as much as my own.

“But mostly I really just want to see you heavy with my child, cherub. We’ll make many little angels together. Sooner, rather than later.” Thor hooks his hand behind your neck, giving it a squeeze as he pulls you towards his lips.

You pucker up instantly the closer you get, your eyes peeled however, trained on his own electric blue as if you’re waiting for him to say it’s a joke.

He gives you a peck, just reassurance for you.

“You do?” You breathe, airy and short.

“I do. Let me make you a true mother of Asgard.” He whispers, and he can see your skin pimple. He reaches down to run his hand up along your arm, only making the goosebumps more pronounced as he tries to soothe them.

Thor can see you struggling to find the words. It doesn’t look like a negative thing.

He brings his hands down to our thighs, running them up to push the sweater you’re wearing up a bit until his fingers find the crease of your bent legs just below your hips. He tickles you there and you squirm, accidentally rubbing up against him just right.

“Let me fill you up, my sweet, sweet cherub.” He gushes, hoping it’s not coercion he’s inflicting and hopefully just reassurance. “I want you to the be the mother of my children. Only you.”

And then you pounce.

Thor is taken aback by the weight you throw on him, the flurry to get his pants down and his shirt yanked up over his head. He traces your sides, fingers dragging across your skin slowly which only seems to drive you crazier.

You kiss him hard at first, then after a minute, it softens.

You pull back to look down at him and Thor tries to read that look in your eyes. He tries to understand the resolve there, the grit he can see.

Then you’re kissing him again, these electric fire kisses that seem to make the world around him blur until all he can see, feel, hear, or care about is you and your body and pulling those little chuckles from you in the middle of your romp because the way your voice suddenly shifts into a moan from the happy sound drives him wild and all he wants to do is make you call his name.

What is this intoxication he has with you? That apple taste of you, so much like ale, draws him in and there’s no escaping you now. You’re his, and he can see in your eyes that he is truly yours.

Willingly he gives himself up to you. All thoughts of Jane driven from his mind because how can anyone compare to this draw of you? This perfection?

“Oh, Thor…” You whimper, his hands pulling you slowly against his hips as he pushes himself up with his other arm.

He hits you deep, stretching you wide as he stuffs you with his cock. Your hand is tight around his shoulder, nails digging hard as you bite your lip and muffle your moan.

“No…” He pulls you to him, sitting up then standing up and taking you with him. He turns around then with you falls to the bed. “…no. Let me hear you. I wanna hear you.”

He thrusts in deeper and you cry out loud, legs wrapping around his waist to yank him closer.

“Like that.” Thor whispers, approving of the sound you just made.

He thrusts again and it’s breathier, but still a cry and anyone in the palace will know that he’s made you his, body and soon soul too.

Will he ever tire of your body? Will he ever tire of these sighs and moans?

He doesn’t even need to ask because he knows.

Never.

#king!thor x reader #a wife for thor #arranged marriage au #royal au #thor x rader #thor x you #thor x reader fic #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fanfiction #thor odinson x reader #thor odinson x reader fic #thor odinson x reader fanfic #thor odinson x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #a wife for thor pt07 #marvel au #marvel fanfiction

[flightlessangelwings]

Work of Art ~ Chapter 1/2

Marcus Pike x tattooed!fem!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: fluff, pining, an asshole boss, Marcus being the bestest, reader dealing with misogynistic comments, kissing, insinuated spicy times

Notes: This idea was brought to me by @the-purity-pen​ and I got so carried away that I broke it into 2 parts lol. Thanks so much Leeann! And thank you to @we-can-be-himbos​ for beta reading! I loved writing this so much and I’m so excited to share this with y’all so I hope you like it! Moodboard made by me

~

This was not the ideal situation to walk into when you came in for work this morning. Your job as a receptionist and concierge at The Lustrio, an upscale and expensive hotel, had been fairly tame and quiet for the past five years you had been there. This was the first time there was an incident, and of course you were the one to run headfirst into it.

The Lustrio was very fancy with a rich, high-class clientele. The rooms were lavish and went for hundreds of dollars a night. Even the lobby was a sight in itself, and sometimes people walked through just to look at the exquisite art and ceramics on display. The architecture and design of the space was a work of art in and of itself. You and your coworkers were used to the usual flow of traffic throughout the day paired with people checking in and out. 

While walking in to start your shift, you noticed broken glass everywhere, a priceless piece of art was gone, and the overnight security guard was unconscious on the floor. The sun hadn’t even risen yet and you immediately rushed to the bodyguard’s side as you dialed the emergency line. In no time, the lobby was filled with police, paramedics, and FBI agents. You felt like your world was turned upside down, even if it wasn’t your personal property that was stolen.

Luckily, the security guard was just knocked out, and you had gotten there just in time for him to be alright. As you watched them wheel him away, your boss, Rodderick White, approached you with his usual scowl on his face.

“Well this is just fantastic,” was the first thing he said to you during this whole debacle, “Fix your jacket too, you look disheveled.” You didn’t expect him to ask if you were alright or anything; he seemed to have a grudge against you for some time and you were used to his comments. If you weren’t so overwhelmed, you would have commented on the fact that he didn’t even seem bothered by the theft in the first place but you were too flustered to fully notice.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking Rod,” you snipped back. But you decided not to push your luck with him today and adjusted the collar of your shirt and lined your jacket to look more presentable. The uniform wasn’t horrible: a black blazer over a white button down shirt and black vest with your choice of black dress pants or skirt with black stockings. It just got warm at times with being covered up completely, and the tightness of the shirt collar sometimes felt suffocating.

“Rodderick,” he grumbled back before he cleared his throat and put his mask of friendliness on, “The FBI wants to talk to you.”

You sighed. You knew they would want to interview you since you were the first in that morning, but you weren't looking forward to it. “Yes sir, Mr. White,” you used your fake customer service voice as you followed where the various agents gestured for you to go.

The FBI unit had set themselves up in both the larger and smaller conference rooms that were just a short walk down the hallway from the lobby. In the large one, they had laptops and equipment set up. You noticed several agents were already busy trying to get a lead on the case. The smaller room that you were led in to was set up for interviews. Once you reached the doorway, you were met with a single agent who you assumed would conduct your interview.

“Nice to meet you,” he greeted you with a warm smile and an extended hand, “I’m Marcus Pike, the agent in charge here,” you took his hand and gave him your name, “I”m sorry this happened here. I hope you’re alright. Can I get you some water or anything?”

It was nice to know that a complete stranger showed you more kindness and concern than your boss who you had known for years. You brushed off the frustration you had with your boss, along with the lingering feeling of the warmth from the agent’s soft hand in yours. He was handsome for sure, and had big soft brown eyes and a smile that lit up the room. A sprinkle of scruff lined his jaw and framed his face perfectly.

“I’m fine, thank you,” your voice was genuine when you spoke to the agent and you followed him into the room where you sat down at the conference table.

Agent Pike closed the door behind him and the two of you were alone in the room. 

Suddenly, you felt nervous, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. He must have noticed the nerves on your face right away before he gave you another sweet smile and said your name in a calm voice, “You’re not in trouble or anything. We just need your account of what you saw.”

Just those few words from him instantly made you feel better. Normally, you wouldn’t fall for someone’s charm like this, but something about this agent just seemed so genuine. Genuine and kind were two qualities that were hard to find in a person. 

You felt yourself heat up as you gave him a nervous chuckle, “Since it’s just us in here, would you mind if I took my jacket off? I’m a little warm,” you tried to play off your jitters. When he nodded you added, “Just don’t tell my boss. We’re not supposed to be out of uniform at all when we’re here.”

Marcus laughed and looked down at the table, “Your secret is safe with me.” He looked back up when he heard your laughter, and this time it was his turn to be nervous.

With your jacket off, you were left in your short sleeve white button down shirt and vest, and you undid the top couple buttons to give yourself more room to breathe. But it wasn’t just the exposed skin that caught Marcus’ attention. He saw for the first time that you were almost completely covered in tattoos, and he couldn’t help but stare.

Marcus was absolutely a fan of art; it was what drew him to work for the art theft department in the first place. He also liked to dabble in art himself in his free time. To see how much artwork you had on your body made him stare at you in admiration. Marcus had thought that the lobby was nice to look at, but you were a work of art on a whole other level.

“Sorry,” he focused his attention to the papers in front of him to tear his gaze away, “I like your tattoos,” he added in a softer tone.

You smiled at him and Marcus thought his heart would break out of his chest. “Thank you, Agent Pike,” again, your voice was genuine. Truthfully, you thought his reaction was cute. You were used to worse anyway, and you could always tell when people stared out of interest or admiration versus disgust. Agent Pike definitely liked what he saw; you could tell already that he was not a subtle man at all.

“Marcus, please,” he met your eyes again and you both shared a moment where time seemed to stop for both of you.

“Marcus,” you repeated in a whisper and he echoed with your name.

Marcus had to bring himself back to the task at hand.  He redirected the situation back to what he originally was supposed to be talking to you about. He asked you a series of questions about your morning, what you saw, the time you arrived, if you noticed anything in the past few days, etc. You answered all of his questions honestly, and your story lined up with events perfectly. Not that Marcus was concerned it wouldn’t. 

“We have an idea of who it might be,” Marcus told you as he slid you a sheet of paper with the suspect’s photo on it, “Does he look familiar?”

You took the photo and furrowed your brows as you studied it, “Yeah,” your voice dropped, “He checked in a couple days ago. I remember I was the one who checked him in. He had a weird energy about him that gave me the creeps, but he didn’t try anything. Haven’t seen him since.”

Marcus clenched his fists involuntarily and suddenly felt the need to protect you. He wasn’t sure why; the two of you were practically strangers. Yet, even in your first meeting, he felt like there was something there. Even with his past history of failed relationships, there was something about you that just called to Marcus. Something about you told him that you were worth taking a chance on.

“Well we’re following up on him. My team is the best so we should have him soon,” Marcus turned serious as he fixed his gaze on you again. He waited for your eyes to meet his before he added in a more concerned tone, “Just stay safe until then.”

Something about his tone made your heart skip a beat and you felt your chest tighten. You could tell from the look on his face that he meant it, and his worry for you was genuine. Normally, you wouldn’t be flirtatious with a stranger, let alone an FBI agent, but you responded in a sultry tone, “I’ll be safer when you catch the guy.”

Marcus’ breath caught in his throat as he clenched his fists again; he definitely did not expect that tone from you. All he did was nod as he composed himself and slid his card across the table, “My number is on the back. If you think of anything else or need anything,” he paused as the tension in the room suddenly felt thick, “Call me.”

*

It took Marcus Pike and his team less than a week to catch the art thief, and when they did, his first thought was of you. He was pleasantly surprised that you had actually texted him the day after he interviewed you and he used the opportunity to make sure again that you were ok. He wanted to ask about your boss too, since he saw the older man berate you for seemingly nothing before Marcus and his team left. But, he decided not to push that envelope yet.

“Welcome back, Agent Pike,” your voice greeted him when he walked into the lobby. 

Marcus was thankful you were at work when he came by and he greeted you with a smile and your name, “Nice to see you again,” he looked around, “Looks like you all got everything cleaned up well.” A look around told him that Rodderick was either busy in his office or off for the day, and for that Marcus was grateful. He wanted to talk to you anyway.

You whispered something to your coworker beside you and stepped around the desk to be closer to Marcus, “Like nothing ever happened,” you tried to make a joke but your eyes told a different story.

He read the question in your eyes clearly and it gave him the biggest pleasure to tell you, “We got him.”

Your face lit up and the relief on your face was clear, “I’m glad to hear it,” you let out a heavy breath, “I can’t offer you a free night or anything… At least not without Rodderick’s approval,” you said your boss’s name with snark and disdain and Marcus couldn’t help but let out a short laugh.

“I’m ok,” he replied lightheartedly before he paused and stared at you for a moment, “Can I ask you out to dinner instead?”

For a moment, you thought you had passed out. He couldn’t have actually asked you out, could he? But when you finally caught up to yourself, you responded with a soft but enthusiastic, “Yes.”

*

You took a deep breath as you stepped out of your Uber in front of the restaurant. It was a nicer place than you usually went to, but Marcus picked the place and insisted on treating you. You picked out a nice outfit for the occasion, and made sure that it was sleeveless to show you tattoos since you remembered that he really liked them. A smile lit up your face as you thought about the look on his face when you shed your jacket the day you two met.

But Marcus’ voice shook you from your throughs, and you looked up to see him dressed nicely in front of you. In his hand, he had a single flower for you, and you wanted to tear up at the gesture. It was something small, but you could tell how meaningful it was. With a thanks, you took the flower and hooked your arm around his as he led you inside.

At dinner, conversation flowed so easily. Marcus told you all about his career and his interests, and you did the same. You even made the joke that this was much better than an interrogation, which made him laugh. Everything seemed perfect, and both you and Marcus felt happy and comfortable with each other.

“So I have to ask,” Marcus started, “Are there any stories about your tattoos?” when your face flashed a look of apprehension, he clarified, “I’m not criticizing at all. Actually, I think they’re exquisite. Really a work of art.”

You bit your lip as you grinned. No one had ever complimented your tattoos quite like that before, so you indulged his question. You told the story behind some of them, and picked out your personal favorites, “I wanted to be a tattoo artist at one point, but it just wasn’t in the cards for me,” you sighed, “Maybe in another life.”

“Maybe in that life I’ll run the flower shop across the street and admire you from there,” he quipped back and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea.

But, stares from a man at another table caught Marcus’ attention. Your back was to him, so you couldn’t see, but Marcus did not like the way the man eyed you. A soft frown came across his face as he met the man’s gaze before he turned away. Marcus couldn’t help but think how rude it was for the man to blatantly check you out while you were obviously on a date with him. Of course, he knew you were beautiful and attractive, but he didn’t like the way the man stared at you.

“Marcus?” you asked when you noticed his expression dropped, “You ok?”

Your voice brought his attention back to you, “Yeah,” he answered with a half smile, “Fine.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth again, a voice interrupted, “Hey,” a deep rumble called your attention and it was the man who stared at you. He hovered close to you as he stared disapprovingly, “Don’t you have enough tattoos for a woman? Disgusting.” 

Before you could even react, Marcus jumped to his feet to face him head on, “Don’t you have anything better to do? What she does with her own body is none of your business,” the anger in his voice caught you off guard, “And she is beautiful the way she is,” he added in a lower voice as he grabbed onto the man’s collar, “She’s a damn work of art.” 

It was the last thing you expected, but you appreciated how fast Marcus was to defend you. But, you noticed the man’s anger also flared so you got to your feet too, “Hey, Marcus it’s ok,” you put your arms out between the two men to try to break them up.

Marcus glanced over at you for a moment before he decided to let the man go. He knew from the look on your face that you didn’t want to cause a scene. Asmuch as he wanted to just punch the guy, he decided to let it go. The man scrambled away the second he could, and Marcus let out a heavy exhale to calm himself down as you looked at him with wide, pleading eyes.

The way he immediately defended you lit something up inside you, and you wanted to cry from the rush of emotions. If you weren’t in such a nice restaurant, you would have tackled him in the biggest hug, but you kept your cool for now, “Thank you, Marcus,” you spoke in a hushed tone. Your hand dropped down to take his and you gave him a tight squeeze. You hoped your emotions came through in your grip.

And the way he smiled at you made your heart stop for a moment. Instead of sitting back down, Marcus squeezed your hand back, “How about we get out of here?”

You nodded as he left enough money to cover your bill and tip on the table and led you outside. As much as Marcus wanted to pull out all the romantic stops for you, he decided to change his plan for the evening and led you down the street to a diner, “How about pancakes a la mode for dessert?”

“I’m good with anywhere, Marcus,” you replied with a smile, “As long as it’s with you.”

In no time, you were seated in a booth for part two of your date. Honestly, you felt much more comfortable in a more casual place, but you meant what you said: you were happy anywhere as long as you were with Marcus Pike. Conversation picked up right where you left off and things just felt so natural with him.

“Hey,” Marcus suddenly turned the conversation in a more serious direction, “I’m sorry about that guy at the restaurant. He shouldn’t have said that to you.”

A flutter in your chest rendered you speechless for a moment before you swallowed hard, “It’s alright, Marcus,” you shrugged it off, “I’ve gotten worse.” You were bothered by the guy’s insult, but over the years you’ve learned to shrug those people off. But the look of concern on Marcus’ face made your heart flip in your chest, “Thank you for what you did though,” you added with a soft smile of your own.

Marcus seemed satisfied with that and his face relaxed, “What kind of date would I be if I didn’t defend the most beautiful woman in there?” he chipped back with a wink.

When you stuttered in an attempt to find the right words, Marcus laughed at you. Clearly, it had been some time since someone treated you the way he thought you should be treated. But, Marcus was determined to never let you feel unwanted or alienated again. He took pity on you and steered the conversation back to something light and the two of you talked over a pot of coffee for hours until you both decided you should leave.

Marcus put his arm around you as he guided you outside again and you fiddled with your phone in your hand as the two of you stood on the curb, “I guess I should call an Uber,” you mumbled as you made no attempt to do so.

He just watched you in silence as he thought about how nice it felt to hold you close. And Marcus couldn’t help how badly he wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t want to cross a line so he held himself back.

However, your voice interrupted his thoughts as you turned to face him with a determined look on your face, “Listen Marcus, I don’t normally do this on a first date but,” you reached out to cup his face in your hands and slowly pulled him in close to you. You paused for a moment to give him a chance to pull away, and when he didn’t you pressed your lips together in a short, soft kiss. When you pulled back and caught his eye for a moment, you saw the fire in his eyes and you crashed your lips together again. This time, the kiss was more desperate and heated.

Marcus tightened his grip on you and held you as close as he possibly could as he deepened the kiss. The two of you let the rest of the world fall away as you got completely lost in each other. The kiss was sweet, yet fiery, and you both could feel the unspoken words in each other’s lips.

When he finally broke away, Marcus whispered breathlessly, “I don’t normally do this on a first date, but would you wanna come over to my place?” 

With your forehead pressed against his, your voice was just as hushed, “Yes.”

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike x you #Marcus pike fic #marcus pike x y/n #the mentalist fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[that-one-gay-girl]

Please Forgive Me

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count 3k ish

Warnings: Jensen being an asshole, mentions of unplanned pregnancy, break in relationship

Summary: After barely spending any time with your boyfriend Jensen things in your relationship are strained. When Jensen finally comes home a huge fight breaks out and things may never be the same.

A/n: I absolutely loved writing the request for @jbsgirl4ever11​ “ I had a dream that Jensen and I were together for a while and we had planned on me going to a convention with him but we had gotten into a big fight a few weeks before and we took a break before we went and we weren’t talking much. I ended up going to the convention anyways to talk to him. SO Rob’s band was playing on that night of the conventions, Jensen dedicated a song to me. It was Bryan Adams “Please Forgive Me” Needless to say I forgave him and it led to certain things haha!! I woke up thinking it would turn into a good fiction LOL!!”  I hope you love this fic as much as I did! Thank you to @wonder-cole​ for betaing this fic and @huffle-pissed​ and @soaringeag1e​ for helping me along the way. Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

“Guess what?” you say into the phone, finding a small chance to talk to your boyfriend.

“You’re beautiful?” he asked, chuckling into the phone.

Rolling your eyes you walk around the couch, plopping down on the comfy cushions.  “You’re a dork. I was able to get someone to cover my shifts for the week of the Dallas convention.” you tell him excitedly.

“You’re serious?! Baby that’s amazing!” You couldn’t see it but you were sure his smile was a mile wide.

“I can’t wait for you to be there, and I can’t wait to see you, baby. I miss you.” He confesses.

“I miss you too, and Gen and I were thinking about doing a barbeque this weekend when you guys get home.” You smile into the phone, thinking about having Jensen home again with you.

“Crap, I forgot to tell you.” He sighs heavily into the phone.

“Forgot to tell me what?” you question, biting your lip in worry.

“I can’t make it home this weekend. We got behind on filming and have to make it up this weekend, I’m sorry honey. Look I have to go, they’re calling me back to set. Bye. “He hangs up quickly.

“Love you too,” you say sadly into the phone, Jensen no longer there.

The next week you spent with Gen at her place, being around the boys and Gen, made you feel a little less lonely. It had been almost a month since you’d seen Jensen, only getting the chance to fit in short phone calls in between his busy schedule.

“Y/n, you’ve barely touched your lunch. Are you okay?” Genevieve asks as she slides into her seat next to you.

“Yeah, I’m not feeling too great. I’m still getting over a bug from last week. I couldn’t keep anything down.” you confess.

“Well if Jensen were here, I’d think you were pregnant.” She jokes, as Shep, pulls her away to the backyard to go swimming.

“Yeah...” you mumble to yourself, thinking back to the last time Jensen was here, it had been quick and not much time for anything. You and Jensen had made sure you had time one for one thing and one thing only; in your lust-filled state you don’t recall ever using a condom.

Grabbing your purse quickly you poke your head out onto the back porch. “I’m headed out! I’ve got some errands to run, thanks for having me over!” you shout to Gen and the boys.

“Bye!” they call out, waving to you.

Driving to the pharmacy by the house, you grab three boxes of pregnancy tests before rushing home. In all the craziness of missing Jensen and work, you hadn’t even thought about your period.

Throwing the car into park, you rush inside, going into the guest bathroom quickly needing to calm your nerves.

Three minutes, that’s all it took to completely turn your life upside down. Staring down at the pink plus sign, you felt wave after wave of emotion wash over you. The one thing you knew was that you needed to tell Jensen.

Throwing away the test you call Jensen, waiting for him to pick up. “Hey, this is Jensen, leave a message.”

“Hey, call me when you get the chance, we need to talk.” hanging up you toss your phone on the couch, wiping the tears away. Going into the kitchen you find the popcorn and stick the package into the microwave, needing some comfort food and a good movie.

The sound of ringing woke you up from your sleep as you scrambled to find your phone on the couch, your popcorn bowl had spilled to the floor, your body wrapped in blankets.

Finding the small device you quickly answer it, not looking at the caller ID. “Hello?” you answer groggily.

“Hey, did I wake you?” Jensen asks over the phone, the sound of laughter and music in the background.

Pulling the phone away from your ear you look at the time, “seeing as it’s 3 in the morning, yes you did.” Brushing the hair out of your face you sit up more, trying not to let the exhaustion pull you back under

“Sorry baby, I just saw your voicemail,” he responds, his voice slurring slightly.

“Sounds like you're busy,” you say bitterly.

“We went out for drinks since we finished filming for the season, and we head out for a con tomorrow in vegas.”

“You’re going to a convention?” you question, confused. “I thought you were coming home?”

“We’ve got three weeks of back-to-back conventions before we can come home. I thought you knew this?”

“Jensen, this is the first time you’ve talked about it.” You cross your arms upset. This wasn’t the first time he had forgotten to tell you something and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

“Can we talk about this later? The guys are calling me.” Jensen shoots back another shot as he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, have fun,” you mutter as you hang up. Laying down you wipe the tears away from your eyes as you think about everything that’s happened lately. You’d barely talked to Jensen and when you had it had been short conversations, that mostly ended in him hanging up with you, barely even saying goodbye.

Two months. It had been two months since you’d seen your boyfriend Jensen. The Dallas convention was coming up in a month and you hadn’t even had the chance to tell Jensen you were pregnant. Thankfully you weren’t showing much and were able to hide it with most clothes.

Jensen was supposed to be home for a whole month before the Dallas convention, in honor of him coming home, you decided to cook his favorite meal. Jared was dropping Jensen off and you had gotten a text 30 minutes prior letting you know they were on the way home.

You had been sitting at the dining room table with the food set up for two hours now. Hearing the front door open you stand up, carrying the platter to the kitchen slamming it on the counter as you walk back and forth from the dining room and the kitchen to clear the table.

“Hey Baby, sorry I took so long, Jared was showing me some new designs for the guest house,” he tells you, setting his bag down.

“I’m glad something else took priority over me, once again,” you tell him angrily. Throwing the food into the trash.

“What are you talking about? Would you stop!” he grabs your hands pulling the plate from you as you look up at him angrily.

“I haven’t seen you in two months! I’ve barely talked to you! And then I make you your favorite dinner and your two hours late, when you should’ve been here 20 minutes at the most after you texted!” you shout at him.

“So now you’re going to blame me for being with my friend?!” he shouts back.

“You’ve been with him for months! And you know that’s not what I meant! You never prioritize me! I’m not a little dog that will follow you around when you come calling! I deserve to be treated better!” you shout as you slam your hands on the counter.

“You’re being ridiculous! I do prioritize you! I came home to see you and now you just want to pick a fight!” he walks away, snatching his bag up. “Y/n I’m tired, I don’t want to fight.”

“Let me make it easier for you then.” You pick up your purse, car keys in hand. “I’m done.”

Opening the front door, you storm to your car, throwing your bag in the passenger seat. You watch as Jensen stares at you from the front door, his arms crossed.

After a week of silence, your phone had started to blow up with calls and texts from Jensen. All begging you to call him back, to come home and work this out.  You had ignored them all, trying to focus on yourself and the life inside you.

You were fed up with constantly putting all the effort into your relationship. You needed a break. You needed to figure if being with Jensen and only seeing him so often was worth it anymore.

It was three days before the convention in Dallas and you were headed to a doctors appointment to check on the baby. You were waiting in the doctor’s office, contemplating everything when your name was called. Standing up, you follow the nurse back to the room, laying back on the bed.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, taking your vitals.

“I’m okay, having some trouble sleeping,” you confess.

“We’ll see what we can do about that,” she tells you. “The doctor will be in soon.”

After a few minutes alone, the door to the room opens again, “Y/n, it’s so good to see you again.” she smiles, looking over your chart.

“Ready to see your baby?” she asks, pulling the sonogram machine over to the bed.

“I’m ready.” you smile sadly at her.

“Gel’s a bit cold,” she tells you, squeezing it onto the small swell of your stomach. Pressing the wand against your stomach, she moves it around until she finds what she’s looking for. Pressing a button on the machine, the sound of a fast heartbeat fills the room. “There’s the heartbeat.” she smiles at you.

“Can I get some pictures?” you ask her shyly.

“Of course, I’m going to prescribe you some medicine to help you relax and your prenatals Please call us if anything changes or any problems occur.” Wiping the gel off you sit up, leaving the doctor’s office.

Putting the ultrasound into the envelope you drive by the house, seeing Jared’s car in the driveway. Putting the envelope into the mailbox honking your horn, you quickly drive off, headed back to the hotel you had been staying in.

Jensen had been drinking himself into a stupor since you’d left. At first it was to blow off steam; he was angry with you, angry that you left. Then he started to drink more because he realized it wasn’t your fault, it was his. He had been ignoring you, putting his and others needs above yours.

He hated himself for what he had done to you. He called you everyday, texted you. Begging you to come back, to just talk to him, to forgive him. Jensen had barely moved from the spot on the couch, until Jared finally showed up, after not hearing from Jensen or you in a while.

“Jay?! Where are you man?” Jared calls out, wandering through the house. Finding Jensen asleep on the couch, with his beard grown out, Jared shakes him awake.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jensen mutters groggily, seeing his friend stare down at him groggily.

“Making sure your ass isn’t dead. What the hell is going on with you dude?” Jared shoves, Jensen’s feet off the couch, sitting down.

Sitting up, Jensen sighs heavily, realizing there’s no avoiding it now. “Y/n left me,” he mutters, his head resting in his hands.

“What do you mean she left you?” Jared questions, brows scrunching in confusion

“I fucked up and she left me!” he shouts, standing in frustration.

“Do you want her back?” Jared asks seriously.

“Of course I do! I don’t know what to do, she’s ignoring me-” Jensen is cutoff by the sound of a horn honking outside. Walking to the front door, Jensen opens it quickly to see your car driving off.

Your car had been stopped in front of the mailbox, so Jensen walked down the driveway opening the metal flap.

A single white envelope lays inside. Pulling it out Jensen walks back inside while opening the envelope. Jensen stops in the path, mouth agape as he stares at the black and white ultrasound.” Oh my god.” Flipping over the picture, Jensen reads the short note you had written.” Whatever happens to us, you deserve to be in their life.

Walking inside, Jensen shows Jared the image as they begin to plan a way for Jensen to get you back.

“Are you sure she’s going to be here?” Jensen questions Jared.

“Yes man, she talked to Gen and said you finally had to talk, and she already had the time off work.” Jared lays a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, I can do this.” he sighs heavily, shoving a handful of gummy worms in his mouth before he heads towards the stage, the band had just finished playing One Way or Another with Kim Rhodes. It was Jensen’s turn to go onto the stage and hopefully fix his mistakes.

Walking into the convention, you are bombarded by the crowded room, fans dressed up and running around the hotel, as you search for Jensen.

Walking into the room marked ‘Saturday Night Special,’ you spot Jensen walking up the stage. Standing in the back of the room, you watch as Jensen grabs the microphone from the stand, licking his lips nervously.

“Hey guys, we’re going to slow it down a little, this song means a lot to me because I’ve made some mistakes I need to apologize for. Y/n, if you’re out there, this ones for you.`` The crowd awes as the beginning chords to Bryan Adams ‘Please Forgive Me’ plays.

It still feels like our first night together

Feels like the first kiss

It's getting better baby

No one can better this

Still holding on

You're still the one

First time our eyes met

Same feeling I get

Only feels much stronger

I want to love you longer

Do you still turn the fire on?

Your hand rests on your belly, eyes wide as you listen to Jensen sing his heart out. You’re reminded of the first time you met Jensen, bumping into him at the bar. This exact song had been playing in the background. You had bumped into him accidentally, spilling your drink onto his shirt. Jensen had laughed it off, telling you you could fix it by buying him a drink. From there the rest was history.

So if you're feeling lonely, don't

You're the only one I'll ever want

I only want to make it good

So if I love you, a little more than I should

You and Jensen had gone through a period of time where you couldn’t speak to each other often before. Jensen had done everything in his power to make it up to you. To come home on the weekends as much as possible. To send you flowers even from Vancouver. You didn’t understand why this time was different.

Please forgive me, I know not what I do

Please forgive me, I can't stop loving you

Don't deny me, this pain I'm going through

Please forgive me, if I need you like I do

Please believe me, every word I say is true

Please forgive me, I can't stop loving you

Your heart and your brain were battling each other, trying to decide what you wanted and what you deserved. You loved Jensen with everything in you; you wanted to marry him and have a life with him in every aspect.

Still feels like our best times are together

Feels like the first touch

We're still getting closer baby

Can't get closer enough

Still holding on

You're still number one

I remember the smell of your skin

I remember everything

I remember all your moves

I remember you yeah

I remember the nights, you know I still do

Jensen had promised you a life together. You wanted that more than anything, but you were scared of getting hurt by him again. Stepping closer to the stage out of the shadows, your eyes never leave Jensen’s as his eyes search the crowd, hoping to find you.

So if you're feeling lonely, don't

You're the only one I'll ever want

I only want to make it good

So if I love you a little more than I should

Heads begin to turn as they notice someone in the crowd walking closer to the stage, realizing exactly who it is. Jensen holds back tears as he continues singing. He felt so stupid for ever ignoring you and putting others ahead of you. Jensen loved you more than himself. He wanted you to become his wife, to be a part of his life with the baby.

Please forgive me, I know not what I do

Please forgive me, I can't stop loving you

Don't deny me, this pain I'm going through

Please forgive me, if I need you like I do

Please believe me, every word I say is true

Please forgive me, I can't stop loving you

As Jensen sang the lyrics to the song, he spoke the truth, he loved you and he was begging for you to forgive him. Jensen notices several heads turn to the left of the room, searching the crowd for what their eyes were focused on. Just then Jensen spots you, his green eyes connecting with yours.

The one thing I'm sure of

Is the way we make love

The one thing I depend on

Is for us to stay strong

With every word and every breath I'm praying

That's why I'm saying,

Pulling the microphone from the stand Jensen walks down the steps of the stage, searching for you in the crowd of bodies as everyone begins to part for Jensen to reach you. His hand closes around your pulling you closer to him, the smile never leaving his face as he finally has you in his arms again. He had missed you, the feeling of your body against his. Looking down at you, he swore he would never hurt you again.

Please forgive me, I know not what I do

Please forgive me, I can't stop loving you

Don't deny me, this pain I'm going through

Please forgive me, if I need you like I do

Babe believe it, every word I say is true

Please forgive me, if I can't stop loving you

No, believe me, I don't know what I do

Please forgive me, I can't stop loving you

Jensen’s eyes search yours as an unspoken message is communicated through looks, nodding your head slightly. Jensen leans closer; his forehead pressed against yours. You had a long way to go, but you were ready to forgive him and work things out; you were ready to be a family, and start a new life with the man you love.

I can't stop, loving you

Bowlegged babes:

@akshi8278​ @hobby27​ @deangirl93​ @thoughts-and-funnies​

Forever Babes:

@winchest09​ @hobby27​ @flamencodiva​ @donnaintx​ @polina-93​ @katelynw93​ @deanwanddamons​ @sams-sass​ @lyarr24​ @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​ @huffle-pissed​ @percywinchester27​

#Jensen Ackles x Reader #Jensen Ackles x You #Jensen Ackles #Request #spn rpf

[tommyhollandaisesauce]

Let Me Do The Work [t.h.]

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k idk how 

Posted: 11/19/2020

Warnings: Fluff, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), oral sex (f receiving), maybe too much plot? and definitely a whole lotta lazy sex sue me you’re welcome.

Summary: Tom thinks you deserve a reward after a hard few days at work.

A/N: uhhhh I mean I think I covered all the bases lol. I rly hope you guys like this I think I started it over a year ago and only recently had the motivation to finish and post it. This is basically my brain baby so please lmk how you guys liked it and if you would like to be added to my taglist there’s a google form linked in my bio. Enjoy horn dogs!!

When Tom got home on Wednesday night the last thing he expected his girlfriend to say was “Wanna have sex?” He had asked a few times before if you could and your response was usually something to the effect of “Sorry babe, another time, I’m just exhausted.” He knew your job was taxing and took a lot out of you and, frankly, Tom could survive the work week without getting any. He also knew that once Friday night rolled around it was all systems go; the weekend was yours to fool around as much as you wanted. And he was willing to wait.

Asking never hurt, though. Tom wasn’t annoying about it, at least he hoped he wasn’t. And for all the times you’d asked to have sex after he had a particularly exhausting day on set and he agreed, he didn’t feel super guilty about asking now and then.

It was unusual that Tom would be so exhausted from working that he didn't have any energy left to have sex. There had been some rare days when Tom could barely keep his eyes open even though you were right there, naked and sweaty, and riding his cock right on the living room couch. Your hands would be resting on his broad shoulders, your fingers digging into the muscles beneath his freckled skin as you bounced on his cock and his hands could barely stay put on your waist or hips to help you move. Sure, he liked watching you rise and fall on his lap and he liked seeing himself disappear inside of you and he liked the way your tits bounced with every movement and he liked watching your face. God, he loved your gorgeous face.

Your eyes would flutter open and closed the closer you got and you’d look at him with your big, beautiful eyes that were dark and lust blown and your jaw would go slack and you’d throw your head back in pleasure. Your movements would get sloppier as you’d start shaking and convulsing while you came. His arms would lazily wrap around your waist to pull you closer and you’d nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing hard against his skin as you came down from your high. But Tom couldn’t find it in himself to even worry about his own orgasm, he just wanted to sleep.

So when he came home to your shared flat around 7 pm from walking Tessa on a particularly boring Wednesday, now that he had a break, and saw you lying on the couch with a glass of red wine in one hand and your other arm thrown over your eyes, he figured it was pointless to ask. You had gotten home sometime while he was out, didn’t bother changing out of your blouse and jeans just yet, popped a bottle open, and poured yourself a glass.

Tom unclipped the leash from Tessa’s collar, allowing her to run free around the flat. Immediately, she trotted over to you, nuzzling your legs with her nose until you caved and gave her a few scratches behind her ears. Tom slipped off his sneakers, padding over to you, causing Tessa to run off in search of her favorite toy. The couch sank under his weight as he sat down next to your head, your eyebrows raised at the shift.

“Hey, stranger,” you muttered, removing your arm from covering your half-lidded eyes. Your eyes sparkled in the dim living room lighting as you looked up at Tom. He couldn’t remember a single time they looked dull. Not during a fight, or when you were sad or tired or sick, never. They reminded him of stars. No matter what, they kept shining.

“Hi love,” Tom leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your wine-stained lips. The upside-down angle was slightly awkward, but you’d be lying if you said you two hadn’t done the Spider-Man Kiss before, per his request.

You smiled up at him as he pulled away and closed your eyes. Tom threaded his fingers through your messy locks and you relaxed, even more, leaning your head into his hand.

“Long day?” He asked, continuing to run his fingers through your hair.

“Don’t even get me started,” you huffed out, dramatically throwing your arm back over your eyes, which made Tom chuckle at your antics.

“Tell me what happened?” He asked lovingly, and as you lowered your arm you raised a single eyebrow at him.

“You sure?” You asked cautiously, “Because I wouldn’t wish the shit I dealt with today on my worst enemy.”

Tom scoffed, shrugging his shoulders, “Try me.”

You sighed before beginning your story. Today had been insufferable. From the minute you clocked in, to the minute you clocked out, it had been hell. One coworker in particular, with whom you were not super close or friends in any way, kept nagging you about your relationship like she did every single day.

The incessant questioning and probing was getting old and, quite frankly, rude. The questions started out harmless, like everyone else’s when they found out the Tom Holland was your boyfriend. Some asked for autographs or pictures and you declined, saying that if he ever came in Tom would be more than happy to do that. And Tom agreed; you playing messenger was weird and not the type of thing either of you wanted people to get accustomed to. And most people understood; except for one.

The more she asked the worse they got. Personal questions were the norm now. Questions about family members and life together and sex. God, the sex questions never ended. ‘Is it good?’ and ‘What are you guys into?’ were some of her favorites. Sometimes she’d get creative with them and switch them up. And every time, you refused to answer. And you relayed this information to Tom like you did most days, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance at her ignorance before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead when he saw you were getting riled up.

You softened immediately and sighed. Tom had a calming effect on you. Just being around him was relaxing. After so long together he still could calm you down. And he was cheaper than your copay for therapy, so hey why not vent to him?

“Just forget about her for now, babe,” Tom sighed out, continuing to stroke your hair, “she’s not worth your energy.”

“You're right,” you exhaled, “I’m home, I got my wine, I got my boy, I can relax.”

“Exactly,” Tom said, laughing at your words. He didn’t feel the need to say anything else as you both relaxed, his fingers still threaded in your hair, until a few more minutes went by, your eyes opened, and you turned your head to make sure you were setting down your not yet empty glass on the coffee table.

A soft “hey” escaped Tom’s lips as he watched you use your arms to lean up and turn to face him. He would’ve spoken more but was cut off as your lips pressed to his, the kiss awkward since you had caught him as he was speaking. His lips were slightly chapped and he tasted like spearmint gum as you hovered over him and moved your lips against his.

Tom sighed into the kiss, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek. You clumsily clambered into Tom’s sweatpants clad lap to straddle him and his other hand sat high on your thigh. The kiss was slow and passionate, neither of you in a rush to go further just yet. You melted into the kiss as his tongue slid along your lower lip to ask for permission to enter. You parted your lips immediately, allowing Tom access. After a few moments of lazily making out like teenagers, you pulled away to catch your breath. You closed your eyes, leaning your forehead against Tom’s as you both panted, trying to catch your breath.

“Can we go to our room?” You mumbled, just loud enough for Tom to hear. Your voice was low, soft, and a little shaky from being so tired. His eyes opened at your words and his ears perked up. Tom pulled his head away from yours and your eyes returned to their half-open state.

“I thought you were tired?” He questioned teasingly, tucking some strands of hair behind both your ears and resting his hands on your cheeks. You reached up and wrapped your fingers around Tom’s wrists, smiling sweetly at him. He was sure his heart damn near melted in his chest at the sight of his sleepy girlfriend asking to have sex with him.

“I am,” you said softly, smirking as Tom ran his hands down your sides and settled over your hips, “why do you think I wanna go to our room?” You joked, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck and ducking your head down to place soft kisses along the side of it. He sighed, tilting his head in the opposite direction to give you more room as your fingers carded through the short, soft curls at the back of his head.

“You sure?” Tom asked breathily, as you continued laying kisses across his jaw and below his ear, “Because I don’t want you to do it just because I want to-“

“Tom,” you huffed, pulling away from his neck, your hands migrating to rest on his shoulders. He straightened up and opened his eyes as the feeling of your soft lips disappeared from his neck. “I’m sure. Now shut up and take me to the bedroom.”

He smiled up at you as he snaked one of his large hands around your waist and the other under one of your legs before shakily standing up. You yelped at the jerky, clumsy action and wrapped your arms tighter around Tom’s neck and your legs around his waist. Tessa jumped up from her bed where she had been lying from the sudden movement as Tom carried you down the hall to where your bedroom was, the door ajar. You giggled as he almost smacked both of you into the door frame and nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. Tom kicked the door gently to push it open before entering the room, turning around, and kicking it closed again. Tessa scratched at the door for a few seconds before giving up and trotting off back to her bed.

The room was cool and dimly lit by two bedside lamps and the computer monitor on the desk, which had yet to go dark and was emitting a hazy, red-orange glow on everything in the room. The window was cracked open to allow some fresh air in and the sheer, white curtains fluttered every so often due to a random gust of wind.

The room still smelled like Tom though. Sure the scent of your lavender body wash and coconut and vanilla hair products and the eucalyptus candle you occasionally burned was lingering, but it was predominantly Tom scented. It was a clean and fresh smell, not shoe polish or sandalwood or, god forbid AXE. It was a perfect balance of pine and rain and laundry detergent. God, if you could bathe in Tom’s smell you would. It was intoxicating. And having the direct source of the smell pressed against you did little to quell the ache that had appeared between your thighs.

However, Tom never closed doors behind him. The door to the walk-in closet you and Tom shared was halfway open, as was the bathroom door. He always left them just open enough where he could get in and out without having to touch the door. You had no clue when the habit had started. It was only mildly annoying, one of those things you find out about a person only after you start living with them, and you always went and closed them after him. As much as you reminded him to close them, and as much as he promised he would, he never did. Tonight, however, was an exception. One, you were far too tired to do so, and two, there were far more pressing matters at hand than some open doors.

When Tom walked over to the bed until his knees hit the edge and he gently laid you down on top of the soft covers, all thoughts of open doors were immediately forgotten. You relaxed instantly into the comforter, one of your legs propped up and bent at the knee, your arms up by your sides, with one hand absentmindedly scratching at your shoulder. Tom settled his hands at your ankles, rubbing soft circles into the exposed skin with his thumbs as his eyes raked over your body.

You took this time to admire Tom. There aren't enough words in the English language to describe how gorgeous Tom Holland is, even in sweats and an old t-shirt. Everything about him made you crave him more. His loose curls and warm brown eyes and soft smile and broad shoulders and, god, everything about this man drove you wild. You knew that what was hiding under his tight, white t-shirt and grey sweats was worth the many minutes — maybe hours — of sleep you’d lose tonight.

“God, I love you so much,” Tom broke the silence, as he crawled up your body to rest directly on top of you, between your parted legs. His hand trailed up your legs and sides before it settled on your waist and the other on your cheek. Your own hands snaked around his neck, and you pulled him down for a kiss, both of you closing your eyes as your lips collided, melting into one another. Tom quickly picked up right where you left off on the couch, swiping his tongue against your lower lip. Just as quickly, you opened your mouth and his tongue slipped inside, running against your own. Tom wrapped one arm tightly around your waist and with his other arm, he picked you up and pulled both of you higher up on the bed, gently placing you back down amongst the soft pillows.

“Now,” Tom spoke into the kiss after a few moments, “let’s get you outta these jeans.”

“What?” You mumbled against his lips, feigning offense, as his nimble fingers popped open the button on your dark grey, straight leg jeans and pulled down the zipper, “You don’t like my jeans?”

“No, I love your jeans,” he responded, still kissing you, “but right now they’re in the way.”

At that, Tom stuck his fingers through the belt loops on either side of your hips and broke away from the kiss, sitting back on his legs and pulling the denim down your legs. Once you were free of your jeans, he repositioned himself above you and attached his lips to your neck, just as you had done to him earlier. His fingers reached for the buttons on your blouse and clumsily began to undo them. Your hands were in his hair as he left open mouth kisses along your neck and jaw, occasionally biting down a little before running his tongue over the spot to soothe the skin. You could already tell there’d be some dark marks on your neck Tomorrow, but at this point, you didn’t care. You’d just wear a turtleneck the next day.

Eventually, Tom was able to undo all the buttons on your blouse. He pushed the creamy white satin down your shoulders and arms, tossing it somewhere in the room, his lips never leaving your skin. You were now only in your underwear, the chill from the cool air seeping in from the window causing goosebumps to form across your body. Soft, quiet moans escaped from your lips as Tom continued his attack on your newly exposed collarbones and chest. One of his hands came up to massage your breast through the light blue, lace bra you were wearing as he left sloppy kisses over your chest, and you could tell that you were completely soaked watching him do this. He looked up at you from between your breasts, one hand still resting on top of your left one, a cheeky smirk gracing his thin lips at the noises you were emitting.

“I like this color,” Tom said, his voice low and husky but he was grinning. As he spoke, he snapped the band of the bra against your ribs, the sting causing you to flinch a little, “it suits you.”

“Then you’ll be pleased to know that I’m matching today,” you whispered, still heaving slightly. Tom furrowed his eyebrows as he looked down and sure enough, you were wearing matching lace bottoms, not entirely unintentionally. Beaming up at you, Tom traveled down your body, his fingers grazing gently over your skin and his hot breath tickling you as his lips left soft kisses across your stomach, sparks dancing across your flesh in their wake. Slowly, he settled between your legs, your thighs thrown over his shoulders with your feet planted on the mattress on either side of his torso. His own hands were on your hips, holding you down against the bed. He pressed a few gentle kisses on your inner thighs as he began pulling the sides of your underwear down your hips.

Raising your butt off the mattress to help, Tom was able to carefully pull the delicate lace completely off your legs. There had been one prior occasion where he had tugged at your underwear just a little too hard and ripped the fragile material and you had not been too pleased with him after that. From then on, regardless of the nature of the activity, he was very careful in removing your underwear.

Once your underwear had been discarded, he resumed his place between your thighs, his hands finding yours and resting on your stomach just above your hips. Tom continued laying gentle kisses on your hips and inner thighs, everywhere but where you needed him most, each one followed by a soft exhale from you. After a few moments of teasing, he pressed a soft kiss directly on your clit, before licking a long stripe up between your folds. Your breathing hitched as Tom started working on your clit, alternating between gently pulling and sucking at it and circling it with his tongue. It didn’t take long before your back was arching off the bed and your legs began squirming around his head, the familiar knot forming in your lower stomach. Soft pants fell from your lips as Tom pulled away for a second to breathe, eyes fanning over your body, before diving back in, your hands squeezing his own as he reconnected with your pussy. Soon after, your legs began to shake and you bucked your hips upwards, Tom following your movements. As he continued applying firm pressure to your clit, you felt the knot snap, your toes curling and your head falling back into the pillows as you came. White-hot pressure flowed through your body as you rode out your orgasm, a string of soft moans and curses filling the room.

Tom’s tongue rolled lazily around your clit as you exhaled heavily, your body jolting forward and  sharp gasp leaving your throat when he lightly pulled on it with his lips. You felt another shock roll through your body as he continued massaging your clit. He slipped his right hand out of your grip, the other laying flat against your lower abdomen, holding you down as you bucked your hips again. He lifted his head, making direct eye contact with you. His stunning brown eyes beamed up at you through his long eyelashes, clouded over with lust and reflecting the faint light of the lamps on either side of the bed. His breath fanned over your heat, sending chills down your legs.

He was giving you a break. Just because you were tired did not mean Tom was, and after a few days with no action, he was ready to show you just how desperate he was for some.

“More,” you begged, pushing some damp curls that had fallen away from his forehead back. His free hand lowered to between your legs, his touch feather-light as he ran his index finger through your folds, soaked with your own arousal as well as his saliva.

“More?” he questioned teasingly, moving his finger in a figure-eight motion around your clit and your opening, dipping in just for a second before retreating. You nodded quickly to answer him, not trusting yourself to use your voice. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” you choked out as he circled your clit, “please, more.”

“Thought you were tired?” Without even looking at him, you knew he was smirking. You could hear it in his voice. You exhaled in annoyance, groaning quietly as he continued to torment you. He chuckled at your reaction, finally giving in and placing his lips back on your core, as well as slipping a single finger inside, and very soon after, a second. You inhaled sharply at the new feeling, hands darting down to run your fingers through his soft hair, tugging at the curls as if you could control him like a puppet. Either that or he just knew exactly what you wanted, circling and pulling on your sensitive clit while simultaneously pumping his fingers inside you, curling them up ever so slightly to graze your g-spot.

Reaching your second orgasm took mere minutes, leaving you spent and panting harder than after the first. You knew that unless you pulled him away, he’d continue his assault on you. Breathing heavily with parted lips, you tugged harder than before on his hair until his lips left your body with a quiet pop, his own breathing heavy as well. You pushed your fingers through the dark curls that had fallen over his forehead again, attempting to smooth them down. Fortunately or unfortunately, you weren’t sure, but they refused to settle, instead sticking up in odd angles from your constant tugging. Either way, he looked beautiful, all messy hair and lust-filled eyes. Glancing down at him, his glistening lips pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and another, and another, working up your body until he was eye level with you. His hand settled on your ribcage and yours on the back of his neck as he kissed you roughly on the lips, teeth clashing together, letting you taste yourself.

Tom hovered over you as your lips danced with his for a few minutes, rough and passionate, his large hands grasping at and exposed skin he could find, which was quite difficult considering you were still wearing a bra. His arms coiled around you to get to the clasp, forcing you to wind your arms tighter around his neck and arch your back to create enough room for his arms to pass under you. You could feel him tug at the clasp with one hand, unable to undo it, too distracted by your teeth grazing his bottom lip to adequately focus on the task at hand, which was to get you fully naked.

He just wanted to see you, why was this so fucking difficult?

“Tom, just let me-” you began to say, but Tom quickly cut you off with a firm “no” before fully sitting back on his heels, still leaning over you. His other hand now joined the first in trying to unclip your bra. Propping yourself up on your elbows, your head rolled back, an exaggerated sigh leaving your mouth. You weren’t sure why he insisted on always taking off your bra for you, but boy did he need the practice. As many times as he has tried and you demonstrated, it always took him a few moments, his fingers fumbling with the delicate clasp.

“Oh, for fucks sake-” you snapped, giving up and scooching up to sit up straight, Toms hands falling from behind you and settling in your knees. You didn’t have time for this tonight. His back straightened as he sat up to watch you work your magic, the outline of his thick cock on display under his grey sweatpants catching your attention, all but making you drool. You reached your hands behind you, swiftly undoing the clasp and beginning to tug the delicate straps down your shoulders.

“I almost had it,” you laughed as Tom attempted to salvage what was left of his ego, causing him to pout at you. Why was he so darn cute?

“Maybe on a day when I’m not as tired,” you said, fully pulling the bra from your body, “you can finally get it right, but right now we’re on borrowed time. Head can only boost my energy for so long.”

Tom rolled his eyes briefly before redirecting them to your chest, his hands traveling up from your knees to your shoulders to push you back onto the bed. He resumed his position above you, still fully clothed while you lay under him, completely exposed. His legs settled on either side of one of your thighs, his cock pressing firmly into your leg, straining against his pants. Another wave of chills, which Tom noticed, ran down your body as a gust of wind blew into the room, the cold causing your nipples to harden immediately.

“You cold?” he smirked, bringing a hand up to pinch your left nipple, rolling the bud teasingly between his thumb and index finger. You squinted your eyes at him, which caused him to chuckle.

“Yes, actually-” before you could finish, Toms’s fingers stilled and he gestured over to the open window, his head turning to follow his hand, asking if he should close it. Cupping his cheeks between your hands and turning his face back to you, you exclaimed, “No, oh my god, just fuck me already!”

The look of surprise on Tom’s face at your outburst was that of pure shock, as he very evidently did not expect you to be so desperate. Alternatively, the look on your face was one of slight annoyance as well as desperation and it set Tom into a frenzy. Your eyes were stars again; deep and dark and gleaming with desire. He swore he could see every constellation, every supernova, every inch of the cosmos in your beautiful eyes. After a moment, he whispered, “As you wish,” before leaning down to capture your lips in a softer, slower kiss.

Tom relished this moment. He was with you, the most important, precious person in his life and he got to see you like this. Which reminded him: he was still clothed. You seemed to have had a similar thought, as he felt your delicate fingers graze the sides of his torso as you searched for the hem of his shirt. Finding it, you started pulling it up, allowing Tom to break away from the kiss to pull the t-shirt over his head and chuck it somewhere into the room before reconnecting his lips with yours.

You raked your nails down his pecs as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips. The sensation caused Tom to exhale into the kiss, eliciting a giggle from you. He broke away from your lips, ghosting over your jaw before settling on your neck in a spot he had yet to leave a mark on. You traced your hands down his muscular chest and over the prominent grooves of his abs, settling on his waistband and undoing the loose bow he’d tied. Pushing his sweats and boxers down at the same time, he kicked them off, letting them fall over the foot of the bed and land on the ground with a soft thud. His cock audibly slapped against his lower abdomen, the head red and already leaking precum. Reaching down with one hand, you wrapped your fingers around his length, spreading the sticky fluid around his sensitive tip with your thumb causing him to rut into your hand. You pumped your hand a few times slowly, using your fingers to press against that one extra sensitive spot right under the head, making Tom gasp against your neck.

You could feel Tom’s hands reach down to push your legs open for him to settle between them, the tip of his dick mere inches from your entrance. He was now out of reach, and he hissed softly at the loss of contact between your hand and his very erect cock. His arms rested on the bed on either side of your head, hot breath fanning over your face. His eyes were half-open and glossy as he looked down at you, writhing under him, waiting for him to fill you.

“Ready?” he whispered against your lips. Since day one, Tom always asked for explicit consent before, always making sure that you were comfortable. You loved it. It was never a mood killer, in fact, it made the whole interaction that much more intimate.

“Yeah,” you whispered breathlessly as you gazed up at him, nodding slightly. You tilted your head up to catch his lips in another kiss, full of passion and desire and love. God, you loved this man so much it would surely be the death of you.

After a few moments, he pulled back, looking you directly in the eyes and whispering a quiet “okay”, one of his hands moving down to hold his dick, running the tip through your soaked folds, grazing your clit, and causing you to jump at the unexpected feeling. Guiding himself in, he slowly slid into your drenched core until his hips were flush with the backs of your thighs. Tom’s eyes fluttered shut, and his eyebrows furrowing as a exhale of pleasure left his lips at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. “Fuck...” He grunted through clenched teeth.

He waited like that, buried inside your tight pussy, letting you adjust to the feeling of his cock inside you. And he’d wait like that until you would tell him to move. While he waited his lips ran over your neck and shoulder, leaving soft, loving kisses in their wake. After a few moments, you tugged on his messy hair, signaling him to look up at you. “Move,” you pleaded quietly before he pressed his lips to yours and adjusted himself to begin moving. Your eyes fell closed as he pulled his hips back slowly, until he was almost out, then snapped them forward in one fluid motion, causing you to yelp. He eased into a steady rhythm, rocking his hips, hitting that one spot deep inside you that made you yelp every time the tip of his dick hit it.

“Y/n/n, open your eyes.” He whispered sweetly against your skin as he left soft kisses on your cheek and jawline. You complied, letting your eyes slowly flutter open and look up at the ceiling, Tom soon emerging from the crook of your neck to meet your gaze, smiling. You took this opportunity to admire him as he hovered above you. His short hair was a sweaty, tousled mess, sticking up in odd directions from your fingers tugging at it earlier. His thin, pink lips were now swollen and darker from your fervent kisses. His freckled cheeks were flushed a deep pink. His dark brown eyes made you melt, looking down at you in a way that made you forget about everything else going on in the world. It was just the two of you, in the home you shared, making love.

You snaked your arms around Tom’s toned body, your nails leaving crescent-shaped indents on his shoulder blades, pulling him as close as you could get him as his thrusts sped up, becoming sloppier. His hand slipped between your bodies and rubbed rapid circles around your already overly sensitive clit. Gasps and moans fell from both of your lips. You could feel the familiar knot already tightening in your abdomen as his thrusts became more erratic. He knew you were close, your walls clenching around him as he relentlessly pounded into you, chasing his own high to catch up to you.

“Tom- Tommy I’m close.” Your words were music to his ears, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. He dropped his head back into the crook of your neck, littering your skin with kisses to muffle the loud moans that threatened to spill from his throat that he knew would certainly annoy the neighbors. One of your hands traveled up the base of his neck into his hair, closing your finger in his curls, pulling on them gently the way you knew drove him crazy.

“I know,” he panted against your neck, “me too.” His fingers never stilled, continuing to rub fast, tight circles against your clit until you crashed over the edge, the knot in your stomach snapping for the third time that night, pleasure-filled spasms racking your body, and loud moans spilling from your lips. A few more rough thrusts and the muscles in his shoulders tensed, his body lurching against yours as he came, releasing inside you. His lips found yours as you both tumbled over the precipice in unison, one of his arms wrapping around your waist and snaking up your back, his hand settling between your shoulder blades. He held you up like that, your back slightly arched and your breasts pressed against his chest as he continued to sporadically buck up inside you, riding out both your highs until he couldn’t support his weight anymore and he collapsed on top of you, still inside you.

You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around his neck as he gently placed his forehead against yours, both of you panting as if you had just run a marathon. You both stay like that for a few moments, chests meeting with every inhale, breathing the same air. Groggily, your eyes open only to find Tom already looking at you, his dark chocolate eyes soft and a small smile gracing his lips as he admired you in your post-orgasm bliss. Your cheeks were flushed, dark eyes hidden behind half-closed lids, and lips a deep pink and kiss-swollen.

"What?" You asked, placing your hand on the side of his face, stroking his cheekbone delicately with your thumb. He leaned deeper into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your soft hand caressing his face.

"Nothing," he muttered, "You're just amazing."

"Amazing in bed?" You asked sarcastically, a cheeky grin spreading across your lips, "Thanks, I try."

"No-" he starts, before seeing the bewildered look on your face and correcting himself, "well, yes, you are, but I meant in general. I love you so much Y/n, I don't know what I'd do without you."

You looked up at him in surprise. Moments of vulnerability like this were not uncommon between the two of you. You both frequently told the other how much they meant to you, how you couldn’t imagine life without the other person. And yes, this did usually occur right after sex, when both your emotions and hormones were at a high. No matter how many times he said things like this you could never get used to the sound of his voice saying those words to you.

“How did I get so lucky?” You wondered aloud, continuing to run your thumb over his cheek.

“Dunno,” he said cheekily, shrugging his shoulders, “good karma?”

Your melodic laugh filled his ears, your eyes closing as you giggled at his stupid joke. He leaned down to kiss you, cutting off your laughing. Your arms wound around his neck again as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips, making you groan. After a moment he pulled back, placing a kiss on your cheek and gently pulling out of you, flopping onto the bed next to you. He pulled you into his side, holding you in his arms. You nuzzled your head against his chest, his heart still beating rapidly under your hand. You two laid like that for several minutes, sweaty and warm, stuck to one another.

Your eyelids began getting heavy and you almost slipped off into a deep sleep before Tom shifted under you, gently rolling you off him and getting up to go to the bathroom. You could hear water running for a few seconds before shutting off and Tom emerged from the doorway holding a washcloth. He sat down on the edge of the bed and used the warm towel to clean up the mess between your legs before setting it down on the bedside table. He leaned down, kissed your forehead, and mumbled something against your temple. "Wanna go again?"

Your eyes shot open. He flashed you a crooked smile, raising his one messy eyebrow suggestively. Is he serious?

“Tom, I’m so tired-” you started, but he cut you off with a peck on the lips, short and sweet.

“That’s not what I asked love,” his voice was lower, seductive, as he maneuvered to hover over you again, his head dipping into the crook of your neck to lay more kisses down on your already heavily marked skin. He is serious, oh my god.

You hesitated for a moment before caving in, “Yeah…” you trailed off as he nipped at your collarbone, “but I have no energy anymore.”

“That’s alright darling,” he whispered into your ear, sending chills down your spine at the pet name that he knew would drive you crazy, “you just relax and let me do all the work.”

-

A/N: The amount of times Grammarly told me I had errors when I was writing this when I didn’t was ridiculous oml lol but hey it’s done!! I’m really proud of it obviously I will keep writing and will get better, but hey my first fic and I don’t hate it. anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this, requests are open right now so if you would like a short lil blurb feel free to send me something! 

Tags: @hollandprkr​ @itstaskeen​

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