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feninina · 8 months

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𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.⁀➷

therapist! jonathan crane x female reader.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: when your father decided that you needed therapy, taking you to his dear friend dr. crane to treat and help you, you thought it wouldn't work at all, but it turned out to be everything you needed.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT(minors dni!!), noncon/dubcon, depression, cursing, crane is a mysoginistic prick, using therapy for unhinged reasons, smut, hair pulling, jonathan just being an creep, choking AND strangulation, dacryphilia, hitting, unprotected sex (safe sex its great sex!!), breeding kink, forced breeding, power dynamics, i think crane should be a warning himself, reader being borderline stupid and naive. also this has a lot of backstory i’m so sorry i got carried away lol.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7.1K

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: omg my first fic on here!! this is also my first work on english and my first smut ever so i apologise in advance for any mistake!! i hope y'all enjoy it anyways ahahahaha live laugh love jonathan crane👏🏻 feedback its very appreciated so i can improve and continue to publish better works, anyways enjoyyyy 💓

𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁

It was awkward, to say the least.

You were sitting across from Doctor Crane in the couch at your dad's house, legs crossed as you watched him write on his clipboard, something about it making you feel anxious, a little nauseous, even.

This wasn't your first session, you started doing this four months ago, not long after your divorce that caused you to fall into a spiral of sadness and misery. Your failed— and short marriage was the main reason you started taking therapy with your dad's friend, the chief of Arkham, Jonathan Crane, and still, you couldn't bring yourself to talk about it.

He was patient, you told him several times that he was a saint. Regardless, before you started with the sessions, he explained to your dad that he didn't really do this; therapy really wasn't his strong suit, but for a friend, a desperate one, he would gladly do it.

Your dad came to him, offering a big stack of money if he would talk to his little girl, make her recover her once joyful personality, like you had one to begin with. Jonathan really couldn't say no, and not really because of the money, he had other reasons in mind, unethical reasons.

And there you were now. You were quick to open up to him, eager to talk, to be listened and he, on the other hand, was ready to listen, to give you advice, console you and help you get through the sorrow that was following you since you were young, playing the role of your knight in shinning armor.

"I can't believe you don't actually do this" you said once, sniffling your nose with a handkerchief he gave you as he examined you with a warm gaze, an empathetic grin on his face. "You're really helping me"

Jonathan was quick to wave his hand and tell you that it wasn't a big deal, that he was just doing his job, and if you weren't so innocent, so stupid, you would have noticed the mischievous sparkle that flickered in his eyes for a split second.

You were landing right in the palm of his hand.

Not even thirty minutes into the first session you told him everything about your past; every little thing you thought he needed to know to treat you. And you were slightly right; he did need to know those things, but not to treat you, just to manipulate you and mold your little brain into what he was envisioning for you and your future together.

Truth was, you hated everything about your life, regardless of the fact that you had everything. That's what you've been told since you were a child; a big house, a lot of money, maids taking care of you so you wouldn't have to move a finger and just sit pretty and relax inside the walls of the huge mansion that confined you since you could recall.

You have everything. That was bullshit.

Sometimes, you couldn't help but think that people told you that out of pity, like they knew how miserable you felt, but not daring to say a word about it. Your dad was a powerful man, and you were aware of that, ever since you were born, he had bussines with Falcone and you knew that people feared him, he practically ruled Gotham, that lifeless and dangerous city that you had to live in.

You have everything. You were tired of that sentence. You didn't care at all about these nice things surrounding you, those dresses in your closet, those diamonds in your jeweler, that fancy car you owned since your eighteenth birthday, no, that was useless in your eyes, because all you really wanted, was love.

It was a lonely life; you learned how to do everything by yourself, how to comb your hair, how to deal with your period when it first came, how to dress up properly and do your makeup. You didn't even had to learn about boy problems because there weren't any boys in your life, you were homeschooled. So you were quiet, not really having to talk at all, there was nobody to talk to.

And since Jonathan was the only person you were talking to at the moment, you started to feel like you loved him, the idea sitting right with you without you even knowing it, thinking that this was how therapy normally went.

Loneliness striked your life at a young age; your mother died from a strange disease when you were eight, leaving you with a shattered heart thad bled everytime you walked past her bedroom, or saw a picture of her. You practically watched her die, a witness of how she lost her strength, how her once beautiful skin turned pale and yellow, and lost every little spark within herself, and the worst part was that all the money you had, couldn't even help her.

It was a deep wound that you carried with yourself, with nobody to talk about it.

Your father spent his days locked up in his office, and when he wasn't there, he was out in the city doing unthinkable things that you didn't even wanted to know about, leaving you on your own, having to fill all of those silent and empty rooms by yourself, with nobody to laugh with, nobody to hold you and see you grow. He wasn't really around, working all the time, too busy to know that his daughter didn't seem to care about all the expensive stuff he bought for her, not even taking the time to have dinner with you or hold a simple conversation. He loved you, you knew that, he just wasn't the type to show his affection with words or actions, but with gifts. And you hated everything about it.

But now, Jonathan was there, making you feel listened, finally saving you from falling into loneliness again. Your whole life, you thought you had a horrible sickness, that you were doomed to this awful destiny of sorrow and silence, but now, with his sweet words and good company, you couldn't be more than relieved.

You wished sometimes that you met him earlier, that this whole therapy stuff started before, and you even confessed it to him. And it irked him a little, that you didn't even remember how you two really met each other, hiding his annoyance with a warm smile.

Some months ago, your father started to brought you to parties he attended, parties were all the corrupts scumbags from Gotham reunited and celebrated how they were dragging the city to the gates of hell on their benefit, and you couldn't be more happy to attend them. You knew he was bringing you because he recently broke up with the young girl he carried with him— that was most likely your age, and needed a pretty thing to hang of his arm and take care of the people he didn't feel like talking to.

So you accepted this new life, eating up this role of socialite like it was made for you.

It was a chance to know people, to speak and make new friends, but you learned quickly that those people weren't there for that, and picked up on how mostly of the people who talked to you just wanted to climb up the social ladder and gain some extra points from your father.

He, even, introduced you to a couple of people that seemed close to your age, and you chatted with them, feeling extremely anxious because you weren't used to this, so it was weird to them seeing such a pretty woman, with your status and fortune, acting so shy and quiet in a place that your dad practically owned.

After a couple of hours, you learned the agenda. All you had to do was put on a fake smile, get them off your father's shoulders and pretend you were very interested in what they had to say, hiding your uncomfortable expression behind your glass of champagne, promising them that you would arrange a reunion with your father someday.

One of those nights, your father introduced you to someone, someone who you didn't pay much attention because he seemed to be uninterested too, only being there for the sake of his job.

"Pretty girl, come here" your father said, a cheerful tone of voice as grabbed you by the shoulder to get your attention, snapping you out of your train of thoughts. "I want you to meet my friend, Doctor Crane"

You looked at the man in front of your dad, his pale blue eyes already sizing you up discretely, looking at you up and down in a way that didn't go unnoticed by you, a shiver running down your spine as his eyes finally locked with yours.

You couldn't help but feel small under his gaze, your glass now forgotten in your left hand, the right one extended to take his and stretch it for a quick second, returning to your first position, his expression remaining serious.

"Nice to meet you" he spoke, his voice sounding like velvet in your eyes, not quite sensing the undertone behind it. "Your father told me wonders about you"

You grin, the irony of that sentence making you laugh a little, what wonders could your father know about you? But you kept your composure, the conversation not going any further, and you forgot about him fast enough, when in another of those annoying parties you met the love of your life — or so you thought.

That same night, when you went back home, you were thinking about spending the rest of your life with some guy that flirted with you at the bar, and Jonathan, prayed to whatever thing listening to him up there, that crossed your path with his again.

He practically obsessed with you, because it felt right. You were young, beautiful, wealthy and had a last name that could open even more doors for him, getting tired of saving Falcone's man of going to jail; you were an opportunity, tied to a nice pair of legs.

After a few weeks of stalking, it kinda broke his heart that naive as he expected you, you got married to the guy from the party; he told you then his name was Lewis, and now you doubted it that was even true.

You were finally going to get what you always wished for, a family, love. And it was perfect. Everything was perfect.

It was a dream that you were living in. A dream that shattered in front of you no longer than three months after.

After you contracted married with this man, you took care of the house, now learning all of these housewife duties that you didn't know anything about, but making your best effort to please him, to be the perfect woman ever created, departing from your old life and habits and adjusting them to his own.

You couldn't be more happy, regardless of your bad cooking, the bad-swiped floor and the half-done bed that welcomed you both every night, you finally had love.

It lasted three months. Your wholesome real life fantasy of a marriage destroyed when you found out, accidentally, that this man was just an employee of your dad, willing to get a promotion if he married you. At that moment, you didn't know who you hated more, if the bastard, or your dad who was literally bribing the bastard to love you.

But your dad only wanted to make you happy, tho.

You were embarrassed, not quite sure of how to tell this to Jonathan, because after all, he was there for you, just for the money your dad was paying him. Your cursed the day your dad became rich, because all of it was making you miserable and it felt like it wasn't going to stop.

At this point, a feeling of despite against you was growing within Jonathan, after a few weeks treating you, he quickly remembered why he didn’t chose this path of career, but remembering that he was there because of a major reason; a reason more important than your helpless cries for attention.

He was sick of you, all you ever did was complain in the commodity of your million dollar house, unaware that there were more important problems in the world. It isn’t completely your fault, Jonathan thought one day, you were just an ungrateful brat, and his work was to tame you, and he planned to do just that today.

"So," he startled you, narrowing his eyebrows, an expression in his face that you could only understand as concern. "remember, if you don't speak, I can't help you".

You chuckle and shift your weight in the chair, immediately feeling your eyes fill up with tears as you confronted the fact that you had to speak about it, right now. He was quick to offer you his handkerchief, as he always did and with shaky hands you took it, sniffling onto it, closing your eyes as you felt your whole body shake with each one of your cries.

You felt Jonathan put his hand on your knee, softy caressing the skin that his thumb could reach, opening your eyes and looking at his, Jonathan welcoming you with a pitying look. You put the tissue aside, both him being so close and his scent impregnated on the piece of fabric making you feel a little giddy, a little confused.

Why was your heart racing so much? He was your therapist, here to talk about your former husband.

Jonathan couldn't help but grin a little, knowing he was maybe breaking a rule here, touching you like this, being so close. He couldn't care less, after all, he wasn't here listening to you cry and bitch about your whole life for the sake of your well-being. He was here because he wanted you to break and get on your knees to him. Figuratively and literally.

"It's so embarrassing" you struggled to spit out "He didn't even love me, Doctor"

He hummed, dragging his chair so he was a little closer to you, you looked at him through your teary lashes and tried to keep it together, this wasn't the first time you cried in front of him, but the reason itself was enough to make you feel full of shame.

He didn't say anything, this being a motivation for you to continue.

"My dad was paying him" you murmured, cleaning the mascara off your cheeks. "It was all a lie"

The whole situation was absurd, what happened to you still felt like a sick joke they were playing on you, your dad and Lewis, probably waiting for the perfect moment to tell you the truth.

But that wasn't going to happen, right now the only thing that felt true to you was Jonathan. He set you up to that, and you blindly fell on his silly trap.

"Poor thing" he cooed you, moving his hand a little further up your thigh, noticing the goosebumps on your skin. A mastermind, that's how he felt. "How could they?"

That was all the mendacity he fed you with since you started seeing him, making you believe he was actually empathizing with you, full of loathe against everyone who hurt you, who dared to leave you alone, but now he was there, his task being to pretend to care.

"It's pathetic" you blurted out, leaning into his touch when his prying hand went up to your cheek. You really couldn't say anything more, crying against his hand like it was something you did every monday morning. "I'm so sad. I don't know what to do"

He shook his face, your eyes meeting his with a confused expression, black stained tears dropping on your lap and wetting his hand before he returned it and looked over his clipboard, pretending to think.

You were so vulnerable, ready for him to destroy. He finally got you where he wanted. He then explained you that you were so sad that it made you unaware of a lot of things, blinded by your own pity against yourself that every door that opened, you closed. It all came down to a thing; you needed a diagnosis.

He gave you a moment to process the information, ready to continue with his plan.

"Actually," he started, his tone now more firm, more strict, the one he used when you were approaching the end of the session. On the last one, he recommended you to touch yourself, to liberate oxytocin on your brain or something you really didn't understood.

It was almost evil from his side, he knew that your only thought while doing it would he him ordering you to do so.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such awful news, Y/N" he stated, making your heart skip a beat. "But I think you're sick"

You nearly gasped, the air got stuck in your throat, more tears gathering in your eyes. You lifted one of your hands to your chest, a million thoughts crossing your head as Jonathan's clever eyes examined your expression.

Bingo.

"Sick" you repeated after a moment, almost like you were making peace with the revelation. "How sick?"

It was an innocent question, your tone of voice shaking as your inferior lip trembled, holding it with your teeth in an attempt to not burst into tears again, your whole body feeling like it was going to break into a million peaces by how much you were shaking in the couch.

Jonathan was quick, standing from the chair he was on and taking a seat by your side, his hand swiftly placing in your knee. You looked at him confused, he never got this close, maybe your sickness was serious.

"What am I, Doctor?" you whispered, your eyes showing him a hint of fear that made him finally lose all his faked professionalism. "Depressed? Crazy?"

Both of you were dying of anticipation now; meanwhile you feared that you were going to get admitted to Arkham, Jonathan was seeing the golden ticket to the best future he could ever achieve, and all thanks to you.

"Oh, no, no" he purred, his hand making its way up to your thigh. "You're sick, not crazy"

You parted your lips as his hand moved more further, not really sure of what was happening, not daring to stop him, too scared of your mental health to think about anything else, not helping the way your legs started to part too.

A sudden gasp left your lips as his hand squeezed your tight, a smile you never saw on him appearing on his face. The crying stopped a moment ago, the surprise of having him so close making you go a little numb.

"I know what a girl like you needs" he said, almost sternly, like his hand wasn't centimeters away from your panties.

Was in that moment, that you knew this wasn’t about therapy anymore.

"You think so?" you whispered, your voice still shaky, but now for a whole different reason. "And what is it, Doctor?"

"To be fucked stupid"

It almost shocked you how he said that as it was a normal diagnosis, like he gave you a name of a medicine you could go and buy at any drugstore in town. You gulped and didn't move when his grip tightened on your leg, your face growing red.

A loud gasp escaped your lips when at your lack of response, Jonathan grabbed you hard by the jaw and forced you to look at him. Your eyes glistened with nothing but fear, your brows narrowing as you mumbled something that he really couldn't understand, and it wasn't like he wanted to.

"You're sick, Y/N" he repeated, more harshly this time, his hand moving your head as he spoke. "And I'm going to cure you"

He let go of your face to clasp his lips against yours, a kiss very far away from sweet, his mouth moving roughly against yours. You never had been kissed like this, so you tried to play it along, trying to show him some of the love you felt for him, that you thought you owed him.

But he didn't care if you felt loved during the kiss, trying to assert the dominance he held upon you, his hand now holding firmly the back of you neck to prevent you from pulling away.

It was a mess; your teeth clashed, drool was dripping from your chin as his tongue explored every space of your mouth, not leaving anywhere of it untouched. Your movements were a little stiff, unsure of what to do, trying to provide the sweetness that he lacked.

His hand moved to your the front of your neck and squeezed it a little, making you yelp in surprise, the sound muffled by his mouth. You tried to get away from the kiss, confused about his rough actions against you, a little scared of him even, almost like you didn’t trust him every little part of your brain in this same couch for the last couple of months.

But then it clicked on your foggy brain, he knew you, perfectly— you only knew his name, you didn’t know what this man was capable of.

You could only move a few centimeters away from his hungry mouth, your lips parted as tears welled in your eyes from the pressure he was applying to your neck.

“Stop” you managed to stutter, your breath mixing with his. “I can’t- breathe”

You doubted that he listened to you, your voice not coming out of your throat at all and getting stuck in your larynx, your voice-box completely muffled by his strong grip.

“Shut up, brat” he spitted, his tone sounding full of abhor, your eyes wide open as you felt the air leaving your body and your lungs starting to burn. “Always getting what you want”

You weakly placed one of your hands around his wrist, another attempt of gasp elicited from your agape mouth as he lifted his other hand and choked you with both, something in your dizzy mind telling you that he was possessed.

“Crying all the time- complaining” he continued, not caring if you were listening, the suffocation being to much to bare now. “So selfish”

And maybe he was.

Your brain was filled with fear, wondering how it all went from a kiss to this— almost getting killed by your therapist in your couch. You opened your eyes to meet his, feeling like your chest was on fire as there wasn’t any air flowing in, seeing how the blue of Jonathan’s eyes has darkened and his lips were parted as well, the muscles of his jaw twitching as he choked you to death.

Your eyebrows narrowed together in terror as you noticed that familiar tingly sensation in your lower belly and your thighs clenching together. Maybe it was something about him exercising this power over you, how you felt so feeble under his touch, that was probably leaving bruises on your neck for you to carry and show around what he was making you do it.

You didn’t have enough time to think about it, you were practically dying.

“And you are enjoying this?” he said with an amused tone, probably noticing how your thighs fragily contracted against one another.

You felt yourself slowly lose your consciousness when finally the relief came and the air started to flow again to your desperate lungs, taking long and loud puffs of air when his hand let go of your neck. Your erratic breath was interrupted by a loud moan that escaped you when Crane yanked you by your hair and shoved you to the floor.

He was quick yo position you between his legs, looking at you through his unfixed glasses, giving you a twisted smile that made you quiver in fear, that growing wet patch on your panties making you feel like a really sick girl.

“Doctor-” you mumbled, closing your eyes as he pulled your hair, withdrawing a mewl off your mouth. “Hurts”

“You talk when I tell you to talk” he snickered, adjusting the way his fingers gripped your hair. You thought that he might just pull out the strand he was tugging. “I’m sick of your whining”

You felt more tears well up in your eyes; not sure if it was from the pain in your head or how his words felt like a knife that landed right on your heart. You were confused, sad, angry— a little hot, too.

“I pay you yo listen to me” you said, your voice so shaky you were lucky he could understand you. You wished he didn’t understand you.

Another sort of moan left your lips as a hard slap made a landing in your cheek, your face turned to the side because of the impact. You closed your eyes in disbelief, a cry coming out as you felt helpless, wondering if this was some exposure therapy he was experimenting on you.

He repeated himself, instructing you to talk only when you were told so, nodding in defeat as you accepted whatever this was and continued to play along with Jonathan’s sick fantasy of controlling you, without even knowing it.

You looked at him with nothing but inquietude, the look in his eyes giving you the foreboding that nothing good was about to happen now, frightened of what we would do to you.

He didn’t show any hints of letting go of your hair anytime soon, just holding it firmly to keep you looking at him through your heavy lashes, a wicked grin on his smug face.

“Let’s give that whining mouth of yours a good use” he said, and you gulped, understanding what he wanted and quivering in fear, not really understanding why the sticky sensation between your legs grew.

“Undo my pants” he commanded, and you stayed still, your eyes not leaving his even when another slap landed on your tear-wet face. “Do as you’re told, brat. This might be your only cure”

You couldn’t help but sob a little, his tone sounding so definitive, so professional. Your trembling hands reached his belt and unbuckling it ungracefully, taking longer than he expected, you heard him chuckle as you unbuttoned his pants afterwards, then putting your hands back in front of your lap.

“C’mon” he pulled your hair again, causing you to moan in pain. “Don’t make me tell you what to do”

You looked at him again in nothing but shame, trying to resist to this humiliating request of his, but complying it anyways. He said he was going to cure you, but now you doubted it, right now, you only wanted this to be over.

With a last look at his eyes you returned your attention to the growing bulge in his slacks, the shame in your brain being present at all times, not quite helping the way your eyes were fixated on his clothed member. You were quick to free him out after your staring earned you a other harsh pull of hair, your lips turned into a line when his cock slapped his abdomen, causing his dress shirt to wrinkle a little.

“Go on, Y/N” he encouraged you, as you looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him for mercy, knowing that even if you screamed it at him, he just wouldn’t listen. “This isn’t about what you want, anymore. Is about what you need”

A tear slid from your eyes and disappeared down your cheek when his free hand placed the tip of his hard cock on your parted lips, gesturing you to take it and not waste more of his time— more than you already did.

“Open up, whore” he said under his breath, using your hair as a device to move your head and help you shove his length down your throat. You complied, the tears in your eyes now soaking in you cheeks by the effort that you were making trying to welcome his thick shaft down your mouth.

You were sure you scratched him with your teeth a few times as he bobbed your head up and down with his strong hand, manhandling you without care for his own pleasure. You placed your hands on his knees, trying not to gag, but when his tip touched the bottom of your throat, you couldn’t help it.

You cried as you felt suffocated again, now for a whole different reason, a more humiliating one, and you almost wished he killed you then. His hips buckled everytime your lips reached the base of his cock, the room filled with the sounds of your mouth and saliva coating his shaft and the soft moans that came out of his poisoned lips.

“Take it, whore” he said, his voice now husky and distorted by the pleasure, the pain that your teeth accidentally inflicted on him turning him even more. “God- you are horrible at this”

He chuckled between heavy breaths, pulling you by the hair and releasing his cock from your mouth, a vulgar pop filling both of your ears at the sudden separation of your lips and his member. Your eyes looked at the floor, feeling such a shame that the mere thought of meeting his face with your fearful face made you cringe, the pulsating pain on the back of your head making you dizzy.

“You can’t suck dick properly” he said, his tone sounding like he was making fun of you. “No wonder why your husband left you. You’re just pathetic”

You finally rose up your face to look at that insufferable smile of his, ignoring the way his cock was still hanging there in front of you, almost brushing your nose. His fingers finally untangled from your hair and giving you some sort of solace, the consolation that this traumatic session was over.

Maybe the remedy was worse than the sickness itself.

“Jonathan, stop it, plea-”

Your imploration was completely ignored, followed by another slap on your wet cheek that made you cry even more, not understanding how this man could’ve been the same one who made you felt loved and finally listened. You fell for a lie once again.

“Get on the couch” he simply said, his words were like a bucket of cold water fell on you. “Stop the bitching, don’t want to hear it”

“And I’m your doctor. Not Jonathan” he reminded you, making you feel even more ashamed.

You did as he told, again, half-standing from the floor and sitting next to him, trying to take as much space from him as you could before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your face growing red as his face was now centimeters away from yours.

“You look so beautiful when you cry” he whispered, caressing your face but trying to nor wipe the tears away, almost like he was admiring you. It made you melt into his touch, glad that his kind demeanor was there again. Even if his words made you cringe— and the fact that his cock was still out, you felt your heart grew warmer by the way he tenderly touched you.

It didn’t last much longer, when his lips twitched into a malicious smile and went down to nibble your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses around the bruised skin and bitting where his fingers hurt you previously, making your fingers wrap on his hair and cry for mercy, trying for him to stop hurting you this much.

“Shut up, stupid brat” he repeated that same insult, making you swallow your cries, closing your eyes in disbelief as he continued to injure your already suffering skin.

You arched your back in surprise when all of the sudden his hands reached for your breasts, groping your tits like his life depending on it, stimulating you through the fabric of your shirt, but all you felt was fear and anger, impotence flowing through your veins because you just couldn’t scream and push him away, fear was freezing you on the spot.

The worst part? You maybe didn’t wanted to push him away. Because maybe if he gets what he wants now you would be cured and he’ll be back to normal, returning you the sweet Doctor Crane that you met once, not this monster that was groping you like a piece of meat.

He clicked his tongue and dropped both of his hands to spread your legs open, forcing your back to drop onto the hand rester of the couch. You looked at him with big eyes, your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest and scream to Jonathan that enough was enough, you just couldn’t take any of this anymore.

But your heart stayed there, between your lungs that seemed incapable to hold any air, making your breathing erratic. So nobody screamed Jonathan to stop, and he continued with his profanation against your persona— your dignity.

He bit his lip at the sight of your fucked-up face, your legs open as it showed him the dark patch on your baby blue panties, darting his eyes from your half-exposed crotch to your teary eyes.

“God, keep crying and I might come now” he growled, lowering his face to meet your pussy, kissing it through your underwear, making you mewl, closing your eyes at the sudden attention your core was getting.

You felt embarrassed at how much you enjoyed when he moved the fabric to the side and started making out with your cunt, swallowing your fluids like a starved man.

“So wet” he mumbled against your labia, the vibration making your eyes roll back, bitting your lip to prevent any moan to come out; he was raping you, why did he make you enjoy it? “I bet you like this, to be treated like a whore”

You shook your head, more tears falling out of your eyes as you felt nothing else but humiliation, pleasure washing over your body everytime his tongue brushed your clit, your back arched against nothing.

“You like it?” he said, finally pulling out and pushing his body up so his face was in front of yours, his cock grazing against your now stimulated pussy, a gasp leaving your lips, a gasp that quickly turned into a hurting moan when his hand slapped you again, this time in your throbbing cunt. “Answer me”

“I- I do” you whispered, gripping his shoulders when you felt him align the head of his member with your whole, scared of how it was going to fit. You had trouble taking it when he face-fucked you, how the fuck it was going to fit down there?

“I’m going to fuck you so good” he whispered between pants, jerking himself off before entering you. “You’re going to forget that pathetic husband of yours”

You couldn’t help but cry, trying to push him off by the shoulders, a terrified look on your face. “It won’t fit, Doctor” you pleaded, a crooked grin on his face as you keep on calling him that. “I beg you, don’t-”

“Yes, beg me” he said, starting to push his member inside you with a slow but relentlessly pace, not giving you enough time to adjust, just to scream and hit him weakly on the chest, face and shoulders before ge grabbed your hands and pinned them down, on the sides of your body. “I’m going to cure you- do you so good”

His voice was low, as he barely could speak when he felt just how tight you were, your walls hugging his cock just the right way, his pulsating head making your mind dizzy, the stinging pain starting to be forgotten.

But when he slid out and entered back it, the hardness of his movement made your insides burn with pain, a loud cry echoing in the walls of the living room as he started to trust into your pussy with a fast pace, not caring at all if you felt good.

He snapped his hips against yours with an animalistic force, growls escaped from his mouth every time his cock was welcomed by the warmth of your stretch whole, the sensation making him go even more feral, making you cry more.

He let go of one of your hands and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at his eyes as he fucked you vigorously, the blue on his iris not existent anymore, only his widely dilated pupils meeting yours, your blurred vision distinguishing the depraved expression in his face.

“You- so tight” he snarled, his voice barely audible, covered by the sound of skin slapping and your loud cries. “I bet your stupid husband didn’t fuck you like this”

You felt nothing but shame as you felt his cock now sliding in and out more easily, the wetness of your cunt growing as he spoke to you like that, that familiar heat flourishing in your lower belly as his words degraded you, your cries quickly becoming moans.

“This was all you needed- fuck” he said, his spit splashing your face as he talked, his words full of disdain. “A good dick, that’s all it takes to keep bitches like you quiet” You nodded, thinking that if you agreed he would stop. How wrong you were.

In a quick movement Jonathan took his cock out and spun you around, not giving you time to get on your ass up by laying your chest down before he stabbed your hole again, pushing your skirt all the way up to see how his pelvis came into collision with your ass.

You were moaning like a bitch in heat now, sure that the maids were listening, not really caring about it anymore. Jonathan was fucking you nice and hard, your mouth wide open as his tip brushed your cervix, screaming to him to keep it right there.

“I’m close” he said, pulling your hair back to press his chest to your back, his other hand going down to play with your swollen clit, wanting your to come around his cock like the slut he knew you were. “Come with me, you whore”

“Yes” you moaned, your tongue out as his cock hit the right spots, making your hips to move against his, grinding against his hand and dick, feeling your wetness drip down to your thighs. “Yes, yes, I want to”

He laughed, approaching your ear with his tongue to bite it, leaving a long and wet kiss underneath it that made you grow hotter, your eyes closed as you let him use you; the only thought in your mind being him and his wonder-working cock.

Truth was, he was fucking you stiffly, every slam of his hips stronger than the last one, but you were so deprived of touch, so dick-starved, that even if Jonathan was fucking you like a lifeless doll, only for the sake of his pleasure, you loved it, even when it hurt you.

“I’m going to fill you up” he said against your ear, his hand leaving your clit unattended as he grabbed your hip to increase the velocity of his thrusts, ramming your hole like a demented man, making your head drop against his shoulder and scream at the ceiling, now knowing what he meant by curing you.

“Going to get you pregnant” he said, more to himself than anything “so you don’t have to bitch about being alone anymore”

You opened your eyes with terror, you didn’t want children, you were so young. The idea made you frightened, the moaning now sounding like little nos and pull outs, but Jonathan didn’t listen.

“Doctor please, please, pull out” you pleaded, reaching for his hips and trying to push him away, one of his hands slapping your ass and pulling you down by your shoulder blade so you wouldn’t fight anymore. “Doctor Crane please”

“I will fucking fill you up, Y/N” he chanted, laughing at the idea of your round belly and your swollen tits, carrying his baby all day and feeling all worked up and needy all day, only waiting for him to fuck you all day. “You won’t be alone again. You won’t be sad again”

Then you realized it.

When he came, your hot walls creamed every single drop of his cum, making his thrusts sloppy and slow, his moans filling your ears as you sobbed under his touch, feeling his seed paint your walls and load your insides with his sperm.

That was your cure.

His hot release that now flooded inside your leaking cunt, that was your so-promised antidote. He took away your solitude by giving you his and yours firstborn, a bastard baby that would give you the company that you lacked.

You felt him chuckle as he rode out his high, the chase of his own climax made you forget yours, so now there you were, your swollen cunt looking for its release while his rested among your insides calmly, like it was meant to be.

He didn’t pull out immediately, taking his time to appreciate the sight of your skirt resting in your hips all rolled up, your bruised neck and messy hair, the way your ass was exposed to him by the way he had you arching your back. All for him— for him to wreck.

He pulled out and rolled his eyes when you started crying, now being annoying instead of hot. You sat on the couch and saw him button his pants and fix his hair, hissing when you felt nothing but pain growing in your worn-out pussy. You explained through your weak voice how he ruined your life, that he was the worst person you’ve ever met and that now you had to carry the product of his sick and twisted rapist-fantasy, even tried to hit him, but your pathetic tantrum only gained you another slap in the face, and a stern look.

When he tried to stand up and leave, you grabbed him by the wrist and begged him not to, he couldn’t just leave you, not now, not ever.

“Don’t be so ungrateful” he said, a smile that made you feel nothing but trepidation in his face. “You’ll never be alone again”

You couldn’t help but feel scared. Scared of him, of what just happened, of what’s going to happen next, scared for your future son with this evil specie of a man.

When you continued to cry, and he pulled you for a hug as he assured you that he would never leave you; and how could he? He had a long life of success waiting for him now, giving a girl of your status his last name, his children. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful, he just needed to tame you and make you the perfect slave for him, and that wasn’t going to be hard.

You were sure that you’ll never be loved, but at least now Jonathan was going to be with you. You’ll never be alone again.

thanks for reading. w/love, fenina;)

taglist: @lovesickxcherries @genini @ilunapb @ostricx @devotedlyshadowytheorist

if you want to be added let me know, it’ll be my pleasure🫶🏻

#cillian x fem!reader #jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy x reader #cillian smut #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #jonathan crane fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #jonathan crane x you #cillian one shot #cillian fic #peaky blinder imagine #batman fanfiction #scarecrow x reader

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luxaofhesperides · 3 months

Note

Can I please have meet cute/weird with mistaken villain! Danny (but really just a engineer and or chem student) and the one being put on investigation cause Danny is a day villain(not really)! Duke

Technically, Danny Fenton is innocent. Technically.

Duke wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since he’s having so much trouble finding solid evidence that Danny is stealing from a wide variety of people, but he’s been burned before by trying to see people as better than they were. It doesn’t change the fact that Oracle’s cameras keep spotting Danny right before a building on the street is broken into and something stolen. He’s always just walking down the sidewalk; no one has spotted him entering or exiting a building, but he’s around far too often to be unconnected to these burglaries.

It doesn’t help that strange, petty crimes have been on the rise since Danny first arrived in Gotham.

So.

Danny Fenton is technically innocent.

Duke is trying to prove that he’s not.

Maybe I’m looking too closely, he thinks, going over Danny’s sparse file in the Hatch. Maybe Danny’s only one person in a bigger operation.

He could just be the lookout, the runner, the information gatherer who marks which buildings to hit. He may even be the scapegoat, the sacrificial lamb; Danny has no support in Gotham, no family, no job. There would be no one to help him if he got arrested or injured in a fight. He’s a freshman college student from Illinois who should be unprepared for life in Gotham but is somehow managing to survive like a native.

There’s a lot about Danny that doesn’t add up.

Duke has seen plenty of different people since he first went out as the Signal. He’s tried to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt, but it leads to his loved ones being put in danger. Some people are truly evil, some working on a malicious agenda, some are misguided in their beliefs, and some are desperate people who see no other way to move forward.

He’s not sure yet which on Danny is, but he’s hoping Danny is just desperate and needs a little help to get out of a life of crime.

Which leads to the next problem: Duke has no idea what Danny is steal, or why. He hits both rich and poor folks, civilians and members of the mob, and once, notably, stole something right out of Cobblepot’s office. Allegedly, at least, since no one saw him enter or exit the office, not even the security cameras.

But added to the whispers going around about a new group in Gotham snatching people up from the streets, and some strange green substances found in warehouses often raided by police for the frequent drug labs that pop up in them…

It doesn’t look good for Danny. Especially when a few of the items he stole were found where people either vanished or where that green substance has been found.

A week of analysis in the Batcave and they still don’t know what it is.

Both Damian and Jason suspected Lazarus water, but the composition was completely different. By the look of the molecular structure, it shouldn’t have been in a liquid form at all.

All these findings lead back to one person who may have answers: Danny Fenton.

According to Tim, who’s already broken into Danny’s dorm room and checked over all the labs he has classes in, Danny has some concerning items in his possession. Various inventions and little metal knick-knacks put together by a practiced hand. He was also the one to find all the information that went into Danny’s file when it was first being made: social media posts, school report cards, news articles about his parents… everything.

And then he had an emergency mission to take with the Titans that swept him out of Gotham leaving Duke to tackle this investigation on his own.

He doesn’t have Tim’s natural skill in stalking and invading privacy. He hates breaking into people’s spaces and following them around, but needs must and he has to force himself to work through the discomfort.

It’s a good thing he did, too. Danny’s leaving his dorm after his last afternoon class, hood up to hide his face and something held in the front pocket of his hoodie. He ducks around people on the sidewalk easily, almost as if he’s gliding through the crowd instead of walking.

Duke follows from above, bending the light around him to hide him from sight.

He walks for some time, weaving through alleys and streets as if he’s been in Gotham his whole life, leaving behind the university campus to head towards Otisberg. There’s something strange about the way Danny walks, as if he’s moving around people who aren’t there, guided by something Duke can’t hear. Even using his meta abilities doesn’t do much beyond show him where Danny’s going to be in the next few seconds.

He continues to follow Danny on the rooftops, walking along the edge to keep him in sight.

Then Danny stops behind an apartment building and tilts his head back to look up at it. He tilts his head to the side, then nods and looks around the empty alley. Duke crouches down, keeping his eyes on Danny in the hopes of catching him in the act—

Danny disappears.

Duke curses under his breath and jumps down from the roof, putting more strength into his abilities as soon as his feet touch the ground.

The space where Danny was has a faint outline, oddly enough. He’s never seen that before. From it is a semi-transparent trail, smoke-like and a pale green leading into the building. It goes straight into a wall, as if Danny walked through it.

He can’t go in and search the entire apartment, but he can grapple up and take a look into the hallways to see where Danny’s heading. If he was looking up, then that’s where he should be heading.

It doesn’t take any effort to scale the building. There are ledges and windowsills and plenty of handholds for him to propel himself off of, and paired with his powers, Duke is able to find the correct floor in just under two minutes.

The green smoke slowly dances through the air of the ninth floor, on the east side of the building. If he’s been counting the rooms correctly, then the target of tonight’s burglary has to be apartment 924.

The curtains are drawn on the window he makes his way over to, and his abilities don’t show him anything helpful for the immediate future. He hates going in blind, especially to a civilian’s home, but capturing Danny takes priority. Duke picks the lock and slides the window up slowly, making sure it stays quiet, then slips into an empty bedroom.

He makes his way out into the hallway on silent feet, keeping a wary eye on the thin smoke strands of green, curling along the walls. The rest of the apartment is empty as well, pale sunlight slanting across the floor through the blinds.

Everything is still and silent. Danny’s nowhere to be found.

Did he miss Danny leaving, somehow? Was this a misdirect to get him out of the way while Danny stole from another location? Did he know Duke was following him?

But no, his ears pick up on the faint sound of clothes rustling.

Cautiously, Duke turns towards the front door, where the door to the coat closet is open. He focuses on what’s going to happen in the next twenty seconds and sees Danny panic, then disappear from sight again, but a transparent outline of his body is visible just enough to show him where he runs to. Best not to spook him; Duke pulls at the light around him and bends it to hide him from sight.

Then he moves along the wall, getting around the open door without bumping into anyone or anything.

A figure in front of the coats, shoving them to the side roughly, flickers in and out of view, almost like a reflection in water, distorted by ripples on the surface.

Danny pops back into visibility suddenly, scowling at the coats. “Are you sure it’s in here?” he asks the empty air.

There is no answer, but Danny acts like there is. He rolls his eyes and says, “It’s a favor. That I’m doing for you. I can literally stop right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” He shoves aside another heavy winter coat, then sighs. “Why don’t you look for it, and then tell me where it is.”

He steps back and bumps into Duke.

Danny whirls around, eyes wide, and blast of green light has Duke crashing back into the wall, trying to blink spots out of his eyes.

“Wait!” he yells, grabbing for Danny before he can run off. “I just wanna talk!”

“Standing right behind me like a serial killer does not make you look like someone who wants to talk!” Danny yells back, slipping through his hands like mist.

“I just have a few questions!”

“Well, I have a question: why?!”

“Will you hold still, we’re being too loud!”

Danny escapes to the other side of the apartment, next to a window looking fully prepared to fling himself out of it. But he does stop yelling, so Duke is counting it as a success.

“Why is the Signal coming after me?” Danny asks, glaring at him suspiciously.

“Dude,” Duke says, “You’ve been seen outside of every single building that’s had a burglary since you first arrived in Gotham. All the Bats are after you, they just sent me because I’m the only one active during the day.”

“All the Bats?” Danny repeats, losing what little color he had in his face.

He looks legitimately scared, pale enough to be concerning, and Duke drops his guard and tries to relax the tension in the apartment. “I’m not gonna turn you into the cops or anything. I just had questions and you seem like the most likely person to have answers. That’s it.”

Danny still looks wary, ready to run at a moment’s notice, but he doesn’t leave when Duke approached casually, leaning his weight against the couch.

“So,” he begins, “What’s the deal with all the thievery? It’s rarely something super rare or expensive.”

There’s a long few minutes where Danny doesn’t answer, looking anywhere but at Duke. Then he twitches a bit and glares off to the side, and says, “I taking items that are contaminated with ectoplasm to help ghosts move through the veil and leave Gotham.”

That tells him nothing! That just gives Duke more questions! But at least it’s an answer, the first one any of them have got.

“I think you’re gonna have to explain a little more.”

“Ghosts are real, alright?”

“Yes.”

Danny stops. Squints at him. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

“Ghosts are real,” Duke repeats, “There are a few who help heroes or are heroes themselves, but that’s more on the magic side of things so I’m not super familiar with it.”

“Magic,” Danny says slowly. “Sure, alright. Um. Yes, ghosts are real. And there are a ton in Gotham who need help moving on, but they’re too weak to get past the veil. Something about Gotham has made the veil super strong, so they need a little boost to get through. Additional ectoplasm bonded helps with that.”

“And that’s why you’re stealing random things?”

“The ghosts I help can kind of sense ectoplasm-infused things, but they need me to grab them since they can’t hold anything without a physical body.”

Duke nods slowly. “Okay, that’s starting to answer some things. We have found those objects in the last places missing people were seen. Any idea what’s going on with that?”

“Yeah, those people were already dead.”

The way Danny says the most concerning answers as if they’re nothing is really throwing Duke off his game. He was expecting to be calm and serious to keep Danny from freaking out too much and look like a legitimate hero. But as soon as Danny started talking, all his nerves fell away and Duke is left grasping for composure.

“They were…”

“They were ghosts, yeah. And they needed to get through the veil. But they were also able to possess their own bodies and didn’t realize they were dead until I had to break the news to them, which is why it looks like living people just up and disappeared.”

“Okay… What about the green stuff we’ve been finding?”

“Ectoplasm.” Danny holds up a hand and a neon green light surrounds it. Except it looks more solid than light, as if it can be touched, and it moves on its own like fire around Danny’s fingers. “It’s what ghosts are made of.”

Oh. If Danny has ectoplasm, does that mean…

“Are you dead?” Duke asks, heart dropping.

Instead of looking upset about the question, or even disturbed by it, Danny just shrugs and waves his hand back and forth. “A little.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Duke says, trying to resist the urge to rub his temples. It’s a habit he didn’t mean to pick up from Batman, and it would just look silly with his helmet in the way. “You’re just doing all this to help ghosts?”

“Yeah. Basically. They asked for help man, of course I was going to help them.”

Danny’s a good person. He’s just a good person to ghosts. But this is good news either way, and he can let the others know that Danny isn’t the next Catwoman and is entirely unconnected from any drug production. Everything that made him look like a criminal is just the fault of ghosts.

“Speaking of,” Danny continues, “Looks like they found what they need, so I’m going to grab that real quick.” He pushes off of the wall and heads for the closet again, moving past Duke without any fear. Duke follows, keeping a few feet of distance between them so Danny doesn’t feel trapped, and watches as he shoves aside the coats again and pulls a shoebox out of the depths of the closet. From it, he takes a single intricate lace headband and holds it up.

It looks normal, if a little old, but when Danny sends ectoplasm through it, the lace lights up and holds the glow.

He pulls some strange contraption out of his pocket and holds it up to the headband. It makes a few beeps, then Danny mutters, “7.4 millisieverts. That’s enough to get you through the veil.”

Another concern Duke can let go of: Danny’s not creating weapons like his parents have, he’s just measuring ectoplasm through his own inventions.

Maybe he could talk to Bruce or Tim about getting Danny an internship at the R&D lab in Wayne Enterprises? That way they could keep a closer eye on him while seeing what he can create in some of the best laboratories in the country.

Well, it might take having them meet Danny before they trust him enough for that, but Duke is sure he can make it happen.

“I better go see this through, then,” Danny says, shoving the contraption back into his hoodie pocket. He gives Duke a small awkward wave, then pops out of visibility. “I’ll see you around, I guess?” he disembodied voice hedges, and Duke smiles.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find you again.”

“Cool. I gonna go now!”

He doesn’t see any sign that Danny’s left, but he gets a feeling that he’s alone now, the apartment suddenly emptier than it was before.

As strange and concerning as Danny and all his bizarre actions were, Duke is glad he was able to finally talk to him and get some answers. Knowing how Gotham pulls people him in, it’s only a matter of time before the other Bats are exposed to Danny’s kind of strange. He’s already looking forward to it.

For now, though, he has a file to update in the Hatch; POTENTIAL THREAT will be removed and replaced with GHOST HELPER.

If anyone goes snooping into his files and gets confused, then that’s their problem. Duke’s explained enough. And Danny can take care of the rest, once they go through the effort of tracking him down. Duke's done his part, he's ready for the rest of them to step up to his level.

He can’t wait to see what other kind of trouble Danny can get it into.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #could not do a meet cute/weird in this prompt so i made it a meet disaster lol #heres danny trying to focus on his education!! and then ghosts start popping up asking for help bc gotham wont let them leave #so danny has to make a few contraptions to be able to help them (mostly ecto tracking/measuring/containing) and it looks SOOO sus #the ghosts also have a weak ecto sense which is how they find him bc hes FULL of ecto #and that means hes robbing houses during the day/late evening bc the night is for homework and stress #duke is just... trying his best lol.#sorry if the last part of this is rushed or confusing i am slightly sick and can Not focus #anyways i hope u enjoy!!#thanks for the prompt!!

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anundyingfidelity · 6 months

Text

FOR ALL TIME, ALWAYS – Loki x female reader

Summary: Loki escapes the TVA for a moment. Desperate and brokenhearted, he looks for you, his wife, in the Sacred Timeline. Even if you saw him die ten years ago.

Word count: 3.9k.

Warnings: LOTS of angst, some fluff, spoilers of Loki series in general. Language. Maybe I'm not getting how the branches work oops. This is right after the end of 2x02 and before 2x03. My English is also a warning, just in case.

Notes: while looking on the tags I checked a post of someone asking for a TVA Loki fic where he finds the reader but her Loki died in IW (not canon in my head btw). So I wrote it because is such a great idea, but I can't find the original post... ;-; anyway hope you like this!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

It's harder to stay...

Wasn't this situation hard enough? Sylvie was right. She had a point. But Loki wanted to do the right thing. Maybe he would find a chance... Again, right? Probably he would make the proper decisions this time.

The TVA was already fucked up, and with it, the thousands of timelines and lives in danger within them. Sometimes, it looked like it didn't matter. In the end, they were trying to fix something that was already broken.

Loki let out a deep breath he didn't realise was holding and walked to talk directly to his partner, Mobius.

"I need a favor," Loki mumbled, so the grey-haired man would be the only person to hear his voice.

Mobius met his eyes. He knew that gaze, it meant he was up to something. "What kind of favor?"

The god motioned Mobius to step away from the newly acknowledged variants and far away from what B-15 was witnessing. The branches were pruned from the whole existence; thousands and millions of lifes lost to the void in just the blink of an eye. Loki knew he had to do something before it got worst. Something for himself.

"I need to go the Sacred Timeline," Loki announced.

"Are you nuts?" Mobius scolded, in the same low voice tone Loki had used.

"Is just- listen, it's something I have to do. I really need to go back there. Need to see someone, make sure everything is okay," Loki insisted.

During all the times Loki showed he was desperate, Mobius was sure this was the peak of all of them. He wasn't explaning more than necessary, he looked serious, and his voice was crisp. Loki knew what he wanted at that moment. Mobius sighed, his hands finding the pockets of his pants, unsure of Loki's request.

"So it's personal..."

"A little, yeah," Loki nodded.

"Promise it'll be quick," Mobius said, taking off the TemPad from his pocket and his hand stopped in the air before the object could lay in the god's grip. "Don't make me regret this."

"I won't."

2029, Sacred Timeline

When Loki arrived to his destination, the nerves got the best from him. New York looked no different from the last time he was there. Shifting his usual clothes he wore at the TVA, he chose a plain suit to go undercover, or at least decided he would try to, considering he was a criminal once in Midgard.

But as he walked through the halls of the familiar building he met decades ago, he didn't really care. He longed for something else. Better say, someone. And it was you.

You, who met him in the past right after Thor's banishment, and even helped him to find the Teseract, only to give up to SHIELD and those idiots that people called 'The Avengers'. Of course his heart hurted for a long time, but Loki tried to deny the feelings blooming inside and instead, he just decided to walk away from you, even if that meant hurting you. It was the best.

At least that was what he believed until he checked further his file; the file that Mobius had prepared for him. His life. Even after what he did to your people and planet, you still held no grudges. And Thor was good enough to seek for yours and the sorcerer's, Stephen Strange, help once Hela appeared in their lives.

Loki would never forget the loving look in your beautiful eyes when you saw him again, after years of parting ways. He really paid attention to you while watching his file, and he found there was only love, protection, and care in you. All for him. Someone who didn't deserve it, he thought.

He felt grateful at least he had the pleasure to enjoy happiness for a moment. Even if that meant Asgard was destroyed. Loki already lost his mother, his father, and he almost lost his brother. He couldn't stand losing you either. The simple idea of living without you - even if he didn't know you further than your Loki did - was unbearable pain.

So while in the ship on the way to Midgard with the asgardians and survivors of the Ragnarok, you held a cozy, small wedding when he asked you to marry him. This was one of the parts Loki would replay again and again from his file, with disbelief that he was actually happy and joyful, enjoying a good time with you, his brother, and all the asgardians who survived. Loki felt full of hope after your wedding, thinking fate had better things to come with you as an oficial part of his life.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long, thanks to the Mad Titan. As his steps got near your door, the memory of his brother and your figure mourning on his lifeless body appeared on his mind. It was an image he couldn't erase that easily. Probably, he would never forget that was his original destiny all the way. That was meant to be. And for now, he could not change it.

Loki stopped outside your apartment. He took a deep breath and raised his shaking hand to reach the doorbell. He waited for a moment, not knowing if seconds or minutes went by, it felt eternal. Until the door opened and he saw you.

The bright smile you had on your lips faded away. Your eyes flooded with tears, your forehead was furrowed, and still, Loki thought you were the most beautiful creature in all the Nine Realms.

"Hi..." Loki barely whispered, his eyes were glossy and a single tear also ran down his pale cheek.

You were clearly in shock. You wanted to get closer and finally touch him, to feel him physically. But even if you wanted to move to take his hand to confirm it wasn't a trick of your ruined mind, your body was stiff and your feet were glued to the ground.

"Is this an illusion?" you trembled.

All Loki could do was shaking his head, before muttering. "No..."

"Loki, I saw you die..."

Tears ran down your face, denying to yourself that this was real. That this was really happening to you. And your mind started to wonder all the possible scenarios and reasons on why him, the god of mischief, the only person you loved dearly with all your mind, body and soul, was standing right in front of your door even if he was gone for you... Long gone now. And that couldn't be undone.

"I know you did, my love."

You tried to smile, even a little bit, as he pronounced those words so dearly. Loki came closer to your figure, carefully placing a trembling hand on your cheek, feeling the tears flowing on your skin. You leaned into his touch, with a simpering smile. Such was the effect you had on him, that a silly smile he also had on his lips.

And you realized Loki was so real... His touch, his heat, his smile, his scent, the way he would hold you... Everything about him was exactly as you remembered. You felt his lips brushing softly against yours, gentle and hesitant, and instantly, you melted into a slow kiss, sure knowing that Loki would taste the salt of your tears running down your face. Leaning in closer as the space between would allow you, you savoured each second your breaths allowed, longing to remain right there for eternity. For all time. Always.

"But now I am here... and I can explain," he whispered once you separated your lips from his in the sweetest way.

You let out a soft chuckle. "Mind to enlighten me, oh, god of mischief?"

Finally you guided him inside your apartment. That old apartment Loki saw his other self visiting a couple of times before you were something. It still had your vibe around it and he loved it. He felt like he was at home after a very long time. Once you closed the door, his arms wrapped around your figure, and you let yourself cry, pressing against his chest and with a tight grip of your hands on his coat.

"You don't have any idea of how much I have missed you all these years," you sobbed and his heart shrank on his chest. "I kept wishing every night and every day to be me instead of you."

"My love," he said softly, separating a little and cupping your cheeks with his warm hands. His eyes were red now because of the tears he was holding back again. "Don't say that... It was supposed to happen."

"What?" you mumbled.

Your hands found his wrists and you pulled his palms away from your cheeks. However you kept the contact with him, you just needed to touch him, to feel he was in the flesh. He was alive right now, wasn't he?

"Look, I am not your Loki. I know what you did, what the Avengers did after Thanos-" his voice broke just a bit but he continued. "I know everything. I just couldn't resist knowing there was someone for me, out there in the Nine Realms, capable to love me for who I am," Loki explained as he watched your face. Was it disappointment? Confusion? He didn't know, but he had to tell you the truth.

Your voice came out as a barely audible whisper. "So... you are saying... you're another Loki? Another him?"

He nodded softly. "I am." Loki thought for a moment on how to explain everything, but he just went for what his heart felt it was right. "It's a little complicated. I did something that wasn't supposed to be, and perhaps will sound like I'm insane, but thanks to that I am kind of trapped in time. With an organization that is not what everyone thought it was, hence a multiverse was created. Sponsored by another me, by the way. You are in what is called the Sacred Timeline, where things flow as how they were supposed to since forever. And I just needed to see you after I found out you were the love of my life."

You took a moment to understand everything he said, wishing that his fate would have been different from what originally happened. Loki gave his best, even in the last worst moments, he was changing for good. For you. For Thor... It wasn't fair.

"Your death was supposed to be then?"

"Yes, it was."

"Oh, Loki," you cried. "You know what, I don't care what's happened. I'm just- I feel happy seeing you here... Please tell me everything you've been through. I want to hear your voice again, to know you're with me right now, to feel you near... I'm not crazy, am I?" you chuckled between tears and Loki curved his lips in a smile, wiping your tears from your face with his thumbs.

Loki granted your wish and explained everything, answering every question you had about the lies of the TVA; the files he found out were his whole life; about Sylvie, Mobius and his variants. He spilled all you wanted to hear, asking like a child, until you understood what was happening. You noticed he truly had changed, just like your Loki did when he reunited with Thor before the Ragnarok took over Asgard. It was a bittersweet feeling however, thinking how much they they seemed to each other. They were the same person after all, but this Loki didn't had the chance to continue his path as it was supposed to.

Taking his hand into yours, you leaned towards him and laid down your head on his shoulder while you both sat comfortable in the couch, just enjoying each others company. Your eyes were dry at this point after crying for what it felt were hours, but his voice helped to soothe you enough.

"I'm glad knowing you have someone like Mobius by your side," you said after a quiet moment. "He sounds like a very good friend," you looked at him, waiting for an answer. "Because that's what he is to you, right?"

"He is a great friend, I'm not alone if that is what is troubling you," Loki affirmed.

You let out a sigh. "That is totally a relief to me."

Loki chuckled softly, leaning to leave a kiss on your hair. "Now you've heard everything about me, would I hear something from you?"

"I'm just a mortal, Loki," you smiled. "Doing the normal shit, not the superhero stuff anymore. I am hating my pretty much normal office job every day; I feed the birds when I go outside at the park, also thinking about adopting a cat or a dog... Maybe a dog."

"Or you could do both."

"Yeah, I might. But my place isn't that big for pets. Sometimes I feel like I'm too alone, very much alone... I would love to have a big farm, or a cabin in the mountains with lots of plants, pets and animals to take care of." The idea did sound good for Loki. Hopefuly you could find peace that way. "Do you remember Pepper?" you said, straighting up on the couch to look at him. He nodded. "Well, after Tony died I still visit her and their daughter, Morgan. She is ten years old, could you believe it?" Loki noticed the sorrow and pain you still carried after all those years of losing your friends, your people... "And I've been missing you and mourning you for ten years as well."

"It's not your fault."

"I know, Loki."

"Do whatever is the best for you, my dear... I would have loved to be here with you now, as the Loki from the Sacred Timeline."

You smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Well, either way, you're here now. It's all that matters to me."

Once again, you shared a loving kiss and took his hand to walk to the kitchen, asking him to take a seat in your breakfast bar, glad he decided to search for you in one of your free days. Otherwise, you would have surely missed his visit. But he was looking for you. Probably Loki would have found you anywhere at this point.

You talked some more while you had some tea and ate some cookies that you saved for special days on the shelfs. The afternoon was pleasant, and this was your turn to speak. Loki, coat long gone, was catching up with you and he asked every single thing about your life now. He smiled more than ever, laughed more than you have ever seen, and it was certainly something you could get used to from now on. Knowing you never continued your life with another person made his heart ache though. However, Loki was no one to blame. He would have done the same thing. No other was like you, no one would have replaced you.

"It's my decision," you finally said, reading his face like an open book. "I have loved you, I love you now and I will love you forever."

He took your hand, lacing your fingers with his. "I know..."

"The day we married you gave me a ring. I always have it with me, today I'm not working, but I use this necklace with your ring," you searched for the necklace hiding inside your shirt and taking it off, you showed him the precious jewel hanging on a fine golden chain. The ring he recognized once was from his mother. "I want you to have it."

"No,I can't-"

"But this is what I want. I know I would have to forget, because you will make me forget about this. About you, coming here, risking everything just to see me. So please, take it."

Loki knew you had made a decision, but then if he left, taking your memories away about this day, what was left for you? He had nothing, and it was okay. He would still know he came to the Sacred Timeline; that he kissed you, that you shared a moment together, that you still loved him. But you will have none of that. And you, as human as you were, would die without the memories and without the ring. You would have nothing and he was sure couldn't bear it.

"Perhaps I can have something else to remember you, I want you to keep this ring as a promise," he closed your hand around the necklace. "My promise that I still love you and I will do it. Forever."

And you sighed, taking the necklace back with a smile. Always so stubborn. "Give me a moment."

Loki saw you leave the kitchen for some minutes. While he was alone, he noticed the sunset through the windows, as it was almost ending to welcome the dark sky around the city. He knew he had to go soon. As much as he didn't want to and the simple thought of runing away was starting to hurt him deep inside.

When you arrived, you stood by his seat on the breakfast bar, putting a small photograph, perfect for a passport, on the surface. It was all in black and white, and you looked what you thought it was nice. Loki took it between his hands, lovingly and with a proud smile on his face.

"I used that when I was taking my Master's degree. Looks pretty decent," you joked.

Loki laughed, tears right at the corner of his eyes. "It's more than that. It's perfect."

His smile faded, knowing this meant he had to leave you again. Loki wasn't supposed to have a happy ending, was he? How he wished to stay there by your side.

You kissed his cheek as a sort of goodbye and comfort at the same time, noticing the sudden change on his face and whispered softly. "So you don't search for me on those files."

"Thank you, love."

Loki got on his feet to put his coat on, like some sort of mental preparation before leaving your apartment and the Sacred Timeline. He saved your photograph on his pocket securely along with Mobius' TemPad, pretending to be strong and swallowing all the pain he was feeling right at that moment. You took his hand, lacing your fingers together one last time and walked until you stood there, in the middle of your living room. He looked at you with loving eyes, trying to save your face and your figure before returning to where he was supposed to be now. And it seemed like time had stopped, as everything Loki could see and feel was you and only you.

"I guess is time now," you began, interrupting his mind.

"I guess it is," Loki nodded, expecting an answer from you. Anything. But it never came. You were also trying to save the moment as much as you could.

So he cupped your cheeks, feeling for the last time your warm, soft skin against his palms. He didn't want to talk, because if he would have said something, it meant you were really saying goodbye forever. What Loki didn't know is that you felt the same thing.

Was there something good to say to your lover, whose destiny was just to bring the best from other people with his cruelty and chaos? To the man who had learn to make things better and, in the end, died trying to protect his people and his wife? Was there anything out there that would bring the god of mischief the happiness and love you always knew he deserved? With these branches and multiverse thing, you hoped deep in your heart there was a universe where he found what he longed for so long. This was just one of many of them. Probably he was happy and living in peace in some others.

"I love you, Loki," you mumbled. He caressed your skin with his thumbs and wiped the small tears that were running on your cheeks.

"I love you too."

Loki leaned to kiss you one last time. You welcomed the kiss with shut eyes, savouring his lips and the taste of your tears, mixing now with his own.

The pain started to bloom; every heartbeat felt like a sledgehammer pounding against his chest. He was not ready to let you go, so this was all he could do. The seidr flowed from his fingers, the green lights covering your body with the help of the spell he casted for you was made to protect you from anything that could get out of hand in the Sacred Timeline, particularly from his own hands, the hands of the TVA, or any other danger that could chase you. Because if something would happen to you due to his stubborn decision, Loki knew he wouldn't forgive himself. What he was sure about though, was that he would still look for you until the end of time.

So when the kiss ended, you fell asleep in seconds. He had to take your sleeping figure with his arms to your bedroom, where he carefully laid you down on the bed. Making sure you were comfortable in your sleep, fixing the pillows and the blankets, Loki remained there, just to take in the serenity emanating from you. It was something you had, the ease and calm your aura projected to everyone in the room. This was the last thing Loki wanted to save from you.

He kissed your forehead and dried the tears on your face before standing up. Once you were to wake up in some hours, you would not be able to know everything was real. Loki made sure you thought it was a dream. So that is what you would have in your head. Something you wished for so long that will only be nothing but thoughts, scenes and emotions that felt absolutely true. As real as life could be.

Loki took the TemPad and opened the timedoor to go back to the TVA, where he knew Mobius would be waiting already since he left for hours. Without looking back to your room, he stepped in and forced to compose himself just in case he would bump into someone else. He sighed, observing through the halls of the headquaters as he made his way back to the room that was assigned to him.

At his door, a worried Mobius was already waiting for him, walking in circles.

"God, Loki I thought you were gone for a second," the analyst breathed out. Loki just handed the TemPad and Mobius took it back. He noticed his weary demeanor and teary eyes. "Thank you. Sorry I doubted you for a second."

"It's fine," Loki shrugged it off, looking for something on his pocket. The photograph slipped from his fingers and fell down to the floor. Mobius was quick enough to pick it up for him, but as he gave it back to his owner he observed it thoroughly.

"So this was the personal thing you did," Mobius said, looking the photograph resting on Loki's hand. He remembered that face from his files.

"Yeah... I guess all set now," Loki sighed.

"Good, I hope you're ready for another trip to the Sacred Timeline." Mobius turned to walk away, deciding it was better to give him some time, but he turned back to Loki before doing so. "And if you're feeling like talking about this any day, only between us, just let me know."

And with that, he walked away. Loki smiled, standing alone outside his door.

You were right. Mobius was a good friend.

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #tva loki x reader #tva loki x female reader #tva!loki x reader #loki imagines #loki angst #loki laufesyon x reader #loki series fanfiction #loki season 2 #mcu loki x reader #mcu loki #loki series

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terastalungrad · 1 month

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Sometimes, you’re a comedian with a touring show to promote, so you do an interview with a regional newspaper.

I think that’d be the funniest possible time to reveal a big scoop, wouldn’t it?

Stewart Lee is currently touring, and to promote his Yeovil performance, gave an interview to Blackmore Vale Magazine. According to Wikipedia, the Blackmore Vale is an area of north Dorset, south Somerset and southwest Wiltshire. According to the comedian Jake Baker, the magazine would cover his school sports day as he grew up in Dorset. That’s the level of news you’d expect.

The questions are friendly and easy, from a journalist clearly familiar with Lee’s work and history.

The first question is about the show’s angle. Lee describes the nature of the show, and here’s an excerpt:

So it looks like stand-up, and sounds like stand-up, but it’s actually a kind of character piece about a desperate person who’s frightened and trying to organise the world in a way that puts them in control. And I guess you could argue that’s what a lot of stand-ups are doing anyway. Ricky Gervais to me looks like a very frightened man. He’s frightened of transgender people coming after him, the act is a defensive wall.

Fun! This is a Ricky Gervais hate blog, so it’s nice to see a sudden, unexpected attack in an unrelated promotional interview.

Lee mentions Gervais again in response to question four.

Sometimes I become bitter and think ‘I get all this good press, why can’t I get 10 million quid for a TV special like Ricky Gervais?’ But on the other hand, I wouldn’t want that audience, it wouldn’t allow me to be better.

And then again to question eight, where Lee explains why he spends six months running new shows in the relatively small Leicester Square Theatre (as opposed to arena comics who might do 10 warmup shows followed by 60 tour dates).

You can still run it like a club gig, you can interact with people in real time. Also, you wouldn’t get better at the show because you wouldn’t have done it as many times. You can see this with an act like Gervais. Those shows have not been run in, they’re not fluid, they’re a succession of inflexible statements that would snap like twigs if the pressure of an unforeseen event was applied to them.

The journalist finally addresses this head on. It really is worth reading the entire article - there’s a lot more than I’m quoting, including an interesting story about Sean Lock:

But here are my favourite bits:

[Gervais] still kind of copies me though, which is the weird thing. There’s still a lot of cadences of what I do but they’re used in the service of evil. In Star Wars, he’s Darth Vader and he’s taken the force, which is me, and used it for evil purposes. He was a fanboy, he was actually the booker at University of London and used to book me and Sean Lock all the time. And when he became famous for the Office, he wrote an hour-long act that was so indebted to us it was awkward. [...] If he’d come up through the circuit that would have been rubbed off him because you find your own voice doing club gigs. It took me two years of gigging five nights a week to come through the mesh of things I liked. But he didn’t have that experience in the same way. [...] Funnily enough, in his first show there were bits I’d never recorded that he’d do almost verbatim. He’d clearly remembered them. I went to see him at the Bloomsbury – on his invitation actually – with my then girlfriend and she was very concerned for me. I’d given up at that point due to lack of interest, and she was concerned for what it felt like to see my act being done to hundreds of people, it was quite weird. On the other hand, that sort of did make me think I don’t want it to be consumed into someone else’s vocabulary. And also, I think because he had a residual sense of guilt, he would always credit me in interviews as being an influence – that helped me in 2004 to get the audience back.

This is, to my knowledge, the first time Lee’s ever claimed that Gervais stole his material. He’s certainly talked about Gervais clearly taking influence from him (though in the past, he downplayed this compared to the account given in this interview).

It’s a pretty big thing to accuse a comic of stealing material. That’s a big taboo. I reckon this is partly because Lee wants to discourage fans of Gervais from coming to the show.

Anyway, let’s finish by quoting the end of the interview:

It must be strange to have that level of financial remuneration and those audience figures but not really a single good review. And I expect what that does for you is create a cognitive dissonance where you have to manufacture a worldview by which the whole world is wrong and you’re right. Which can’t necessarily be very good for your mental health, although I expect the money’s nice.

#stewart lee #ricky gervais #tagging my hate

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lunarzstarz · 1 year

Text

Bad Idea E.M

Pairing: Fuckboy!EddieMunson x Virgin!Fem!Reader

Content Warning: NSFW 18+ minors dni, drugs, first Times, oral (F receiving), fingering, protected sex, nicknames (Princess/Sweetheart), Eddie being a goof but also an asshole (Slightly proofread)

Summary: Not wanting to leave for college with your virginity still intact, you turn to your last resort that you know can only end terribly…

A/N: Been in a slump for a while and haven’t had time for writing, finally came up with this and got a bit carried away, definitely gonna be a part two!

As always, likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

Word Count: 6.4K

This was a bad idea.

The gravel crunched beneath your shoes as you walked through the trailer park, looking out for that familiar mop of frizzy curls or that beaten up van. Your breath curling in clouds in front of you with the cold, clinging to the thin fabric of your jacket and now regretting your choice of outfit. What sane person wears a skirt in the middle of winter? He’s definitely gonna know you’re desperate. However, as desperate you knew you looked, with your short skirt, hair done nicely and perfect makeup, you hoped your plan would work.

You planned everything down to this moment around a week ago when you had decided you couldn’t leave high school without at least some sort of experience. The thought of going off to college without even having properly kissed a boy was embarrassing to you, it felt like everyone your age had lost their virginity but you. You felt left out when all your friends would laugh and joke about their first time or talk about their experiences, even if they didn’t sound that much fun, you just wanted to know what all the fuss was about. So you turned to your last option, one you’d known you’d probably regret in a few hours but it was better than nothing.

Eddie Munson wasn’t just know for being the town freak, everyone knew he was a certified fuck boy. You were pretty sure he had slept with over half the girls in your year, it was like a game to him to see how many notches he could get on his belt. He’d fuck them, then never speak to them again, acting like it never happened or that they just didn’t exist altogether. It was almost sad to watch all those girls chase after him, some of them would stop him in the hallways, asking to see him again or “hangout”, to go on dates. He’d just laugh at them or call them by the wrong name, whether it was on purpose or he really did sleep around that much that he actually does forget you don’t know.

You were starting to lose all hope, you’d been searching for ten minutes around the small area and there was no sign of him anywhere. Then you heard the sound of music blasting, echoing off the trailers to you from the other side of the park, it sounded like the kind of stuff he played in the school parking lot, it had to be him, so you followed it. It leads you to a trailer with Eddie’s van parked right outside. You drew a deep breath, trying your best to settle any nerves that you had and hurried yourself up the path so that you didn’t have enough time to second guess yourself and turn around.

You knocked on the door without hesitation, using the time you had left to check over yourself to make sure everything was in the right place, hair and clothes pristine. Shifting your weight back and forth to soothe yourself, nobody answered. Maybe he just can't hear it over the music? You knock again louder this time.

“Alright! I’m coming Jesus chri-” an agitated shout came from inside over the music, it was lowered then the door swung open. Eddie leaned against the doorway, hair disheveled like he had just woken up, even though it was turning six o’clock. He was wearing a tattered Pantera shirt that had some holes in it, revealing some of his fair skin and some grey sweatpants that hung low on his waist, a lit joint dangling from his plush lips. He may have been an asshole, but god he was a hot one.

“Yes?” he shakes his head at you when you don’t say anything, curls drooping around his face.

“Weed” you blurt out, muddling up your words “shit- I- sorry, I’m Y/n, I’m here to buy weed, um Chrissy told me you sell and-” you cut yourself off, too much information. You swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Great not even five minutes in and he’s already laughing at me, so much for trying to act cool.

“Right” he huffs in acknowledgement, taking a drag from the joint, studying you for a moment before disappearing back into the trailer. You stay put, your body succumbing to numbness with the cold biting at your skin as you wait for him to return, but he doesn’t. “Well, come in, it’s fucking freezing” Eddie calls from inside, so you step past the threshold into the living room shutting the door behind you.

You stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for his return as you took in your surroundings, it was a lot more homely than you thought it would be. Hats and mugs lining the walls, you smile to yourself when you spot the Garfield one, similar to yours at home. The place smelt of a mixture of weed and cigarette smoke, coffee and man all masked with the scent of cheap lemon air freshener.

There was some shuffling coming from down the hall, then Eddie emerged with a bag in hand, catching you staring at his home. “Maid took the night off” he says, snapping you from your thoughts, making you flinch.

“Oh- I wasn’t judging or anything I jus-”

“Well it's certainly not the Ritz” he gives you a sarcastic, tight lipped smile.

“No, no I like it, it's cozy” you offer him a shy smile, you’re sure he’s received a lot of criticism for where he lives, trailer park trash some of the kids had called him.

He’d heard it before from the girls he took back here, “it’s nice” is what they would always say with a small grimace on their face, they were only saying it so they could get in his pants, but for some reason he could tell you were being earnest. “Yeah well…here, half an ounce for twenty five.”

You reached for your pocket to fish out the cash, then pause “Wait, Chrissy said you only charge fifte-”

“I charged Chrissy fifteen, last time I checked, you’re not Chrissy” he looks you up and down, something about his stare making you shiver. “Twenty five or nothing” he says, holding out his palm and the bag from your reach, looking done with the whole ordeal already.

You think for a moment, trying to come out with something to say, something that wouldn’t cut this visit short and stick with your plan. “How about if I suck your dick? Will you give me the discount then?” you offer, shocking yourself with your sudden boldness.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise in slight surprise, then he huffs a laugh. It wouldn’t be the first time someone offered him a blowjob or sex or the occasional “I’ll show you my tits” in return for some free weed, wouldn't be the first time he’d taken someone up on it. He was just more surprised it came from you, hadn't expected you to say something like that.

“I’d much rather prefer the extra ten bucks, thanks for the offer though, but you and I both know you’re better than that princess” he spoke to you in a tone that made you feel dumb, but you’d be lying if you said the nickname didn’t excite you a little. “Now, thirty or nothing” his lips curled into a smug grin.

You roll your eyes “Fine, twenty five” you pull out your cash and shoved it into his palm, he tosses you the bag. You examine the fuzzy green plant while he counts the money, you’d never smoked before “Could you um- show me how to roll? It’s just I’m not very good at it, I’ll pay extra if-”

He sets the money aside “Save it, look I’ll show you but after you’re gone, got it?” You nod “Sit down” he motions over to the couch. You took a seat and it was surprisingly more comfortable than it looked, Eddie taking a seat next to you, shuffling close so that your knees knocked together. You could smell his cheap cologne and musk that had been overpowered by the joint he was still smoking through the whole interaction.

“Here, take this” he passes it to you “Now I’m only gonna do this once, so watch closely.” He lifted the grinder and started the process, you’re doing as he said and watching closely. “Don’t let it go out” he snaps at you, so you place the joint between your lips and puff on it like you’d done with cigarettes. Bad Idea. You start choking on the thick, strong smoke, not being used to it.

“Jesus Christ-” he gets up and heads to the kitchen grabbing a glass and pouring water into it, racing back over to as you finish your spluttering. “You’ve never smoked before” he says more like a statement than a question.

“What gave it away?” you croak out, thanking him for the water before taking a sip, he laughs a little.

“I don’t know, maybe you almost choking to death? Better?” he asks once your breathing is normal again, you nod. “Here, try again, only a little” he instructs, you hesitantly hold the joint up to your lips again and take a small drag of the smoke, holding it in your mouth. “Right, now inhale” you do as he says, the smoke filling your lungs, catching your throat slightly but not as bad as the last time.

You exhale “Better?” he asks again, returning to his spot next to you.

“Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting it to be so strong.”

“Nobody does, now watch” he says, picking up one of the rolling papers and starting the process over. You do try to pay attention like he said, but with each extra drag you took it became harder to focus, your attention wandering to him. Eyes straying to stare at his ringed fingers, his face, lips, his tongue poking out between them in concentration or when he licked along the paper to seal the joint.

By the time he’s finished you feel light, not too high, but it has definitely made you relax, taking up more space, your bare thigh flush with his clothed one. “Thanks” you say a little breathless as he passes it to you, taking his back. You toss it over in your palm, examining it, he’d perfectly wrapped the plant, it made you wonder what other things those hands could do besides roll joints and play guitar.

“You should go now” he sighs, stretching out and laying back on the couch, spreading his legs to take up more room.

“I should…” you drawl, about to get up and cut your plan short, no you’ve come this far already “But before I do, I need to ask a favor.”

He scoffs “I don’t do favors” he says, taking the final drag, giving you an unamused look.

“Look, can you atleast hear me out?” you beg, he doesn’t say anything so you take that as a sign to continue. “It’s just- I know you have this reputation-”

“I don’t fuck virgins” he interupted you, placing the roach into the ashtray “Not anymore.”

“I didn’t even finish- I- how do you even know I was gonna ask that and how do you know I’m a virgin?” you say, trying to hide how guilty you looked. You hated how he read you like a book, how he knew that’s what you were here for even if your plan was just that, you hated that you really had been that obvious.

“Well you all have this…look” he shrugs.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

“And you showed up here, unannounced may I add, in that short skirt in the middle of winter, looking all pretty and shit, wanting to suck my dick for free weed, you’re all the same, it’s funny really” he finishes, a smirk pulling on his lips.

You tried to ignore the fact that he had called you pretty “For the record, I didn’t want to suck your dick” you muttered low, but he caught it, his smile growing.

“See, you didn’t deny that I was right, you may as well stuck a sign on your back saying fuck me” he retorts, you could tell he was having fun getting under your skin.

“Fine! You want to know the real reason I came here?” you snap.

“Oh please sweetheart do tell” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm as he leans his head in his palm, acting like he was really interested with what you had to say. You glared at him, despite the fact you knew he couldn’t care less about why you were here, you continued anyway.

“I leave for college soon, I just didn’t wanna go being a frigid fuck okay! I just wanted to do it before I left so I didn’t have to worry about it. I wanted to just lose my virginity then move on, no strings attached and seeing as you’re known for fucking basically anything that moves I came to you as a last resort. Is that what you wanted to hear?” You finish with a long sigh, folding your arms and falling back into the cushions.

He’s almost stunned for a moment, then finally responds “Listen, I’m flattered, really, but like I said, I don’t fuck virgins, so I’m afraid your gonna have to finish your quest elsewhere.”

“Why not?” you practically whine, maybe you were desperate, he was thoroughly enjoying it though.

“They get all clingy after, hard to get rid of, expect me to be all nice and sweet and romantic” he says the word with a grimace, like it hurt him to even say it.

“Well lucky for you I’m not looking for you to be sweet or romance me, trust me I knew that before I got here” you scoff “Look all you have to do is fuck me and I’ll be on my way.”

“You wound me, I can be sweet” he screws his face up in faux hurt you just roll your eyes “If I wanted to that is, besides that’s what they all say, then they come crawling back for more, I’m just that good” he says with a cocky grin.

“Oh please, you’re probably not even that good at it”

He narrows his eyes at you “Oh you are good at this.”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about” of course you knew what you were doing.

“Oh you most certainly do, I know what game you’re playing sweetheart and it’s not gonna work”

You stand up to leave, brushing yourself off and reaching for your bag of weed “No, no, if you don’t want to fuck me that's just fine.”

It was the perfect angle for Eddie to catch a glance up your skirt, stealing a peek at your cotton underwear and the wet patch that accompanied them. He smiles to himself. It had been a few days since his last hook up, he was running out of options, he’d already fucked a few people that he enjoyed a handful of times, he’d didn’t wanna go back to them again, god forbid they start thinking they’re special. Maybe he should give you a chance.

“Now, I didn’t say I didn’t want to” he grabs your wrist, not too tightly, easing you to sit back down, this time in his lap “You swear you’ll leave me alone after, no bullshit?”

Your confidence from earlier now dwindling from sitting on the edge of his knee, you swallow “I swear, you won’t even have to look at me again.”

That was apparently all the confirmation he needed because in an instant he was on you. He started off slow, pressing his lips softly against yours with small pecks, not what you were expecting. His hands came to rest on your waist, even though your shirt you could feel the burn it left behind on your skin, you kept your hands to yourself, not knowing where to touch.

Eddie must’ve sensed this “Here” he mumbles against your lips “Like this.” He pulled back, guiding you to face him, placing your thighs on either side of his hips so that you were straddling him, cores flush together. He slid your jacket off your shoulders and tossed it aside, stroking down your bare arms until he reached your wrists, lifting them to rest your palms against his chest. You run your hands over the expanse of his clothed chest to his shoulders then back again feeling his warmth, looking back at him, he’s watching you intently “Better?”

“Mhm” you nod, not trusting yourself to speak right now.

“Oh come on, don’t go so quiet on me now, I was quite enjoying your little games” he teases, leaning in to kiss along your jaw, starting to venture down your neck, teeth grazing your skin.

“I-it’s better” you breathe out, you’d never been this close to anyone before.

He starts placing wet kisses over the sensitive skin of your neck, you feel him suck onto you, not too harsh at first, testing to see how you respond. You let one of your hands slip up behind his head to tangle your fingers in his messy curls, pushing him further into you. Taking this as a hint he sucks harder earning a gasp from you, feeling his smug grin spread across your skin.

You pulled him back, noticing the way he groaned, he liked when you tugged on his hair, you’d remember that. It was clumsy, but you crashed your mouth onto his and instead of him making a comment on how bad you were at making out, he quickly corrected you, tongue sliding over your bottom lip before you let him in. It was easier than you thought, the way you got the hang of it quickly following his movements as you explored each others mouths, both of you tasting the shared joint.

Eddie’s hands that rested on your hips trailed down your legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he slipped them up the back of your thighs, groping at them, pulling you impossibly closer. You could already feel the hard on growing beneath you, his hands slipping further up your skirt to cup your ass and use it as leverage to grind you against him.

“Oh-” you broke the kiss, resting your forehead against his at the feeling, your clothed clit brushing against him.

“That feel good?” he asks, doing it again, harder this time.

“Y-yeah” you let out a shaky breath and then he’s leaning up to kiss you again. Each drag against your core felt better than the one before, he had you gasping as he ground his hips up into you, groaning against your lips when he felt you start moving on your own. He returned his hands to your waist, letting you move at your own pace, mouthing at any skin he could get at.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, tugging on the hem of your shirt. He felt you stop, eyes shooting open to look at him, he could see the hesitation.

Nobody had ever seen you like that before “Okay, but- just” you couldn’t find the right words. He’d slept with lots of girls, all kinds, you knew that he wouldn’t judge you or at least you hoped he wouldn’t.

“What?” he stops, sensing your sudden unease.

“I- look just don’t judge me okay?” you reach for the bottom of your shirt and he stops you.

“Why would I do that?” he looked sincere, but the Eddie you heard of, you didn’t think he was capable of such things.

“I don’t know, it’s just nobody has seen me naked before, and I know you’ve seen a lot of girls, just don’t want you thinking I look weird or something…” you avoid looking at him, oh god what if he thinks I’m weird…

“Listen, I’ve seen you with clothes on and you look pretty fucking hot to me and you’ll probaly look even better naked and as far as weird goes unless you have some third tit I don’t know about, which I’m sure I’d still be pretty into, then you have nothing to worry about.”

You both burst into a fit of laughter at the third tit comment, but it makes you feel alot better and at ease. “Well, no, sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t” you say through your laughter.

“Okay then, let’s see them” he says, the laughter dying down. You reach for your shirt and pull it up over your head, throwing it aside to join your jacket.

When you look back down Eddie’s smiling at you, well at your boobs, it makes you laugh again “I thought you’d get tired of seeing them by now” you quip, he looks back at you.

“Trust me, I don’t,” he reached up to cup them, giving them a firm squeeze in their cups before reaching one hand around to unclasp your bra, removing it in record time. He looks up at you, like he’s waiting on something.

“What? You want me to applaud you?” you tease.

“Maybe, was thinking I deserve more than that though, maybe a prize?”

“Maybe if it was your first time, but I know you’ve had plenty of practice, how many girls have you shown that trick to?” you cock your head at him, you enjoyed teasing him “I’ll get back to you though if they make a prize for the worlds cockiest bastard though.”

He rolls his eyes at you “Alright are you here to chit-chat or fuck me?”

You felt his cock through the thin fabric of your underwear and his pants, he was hard as rock now, your confidence growing, you grind down against it. His eyelids flutter, head resting on the back of the couch “Do that again.”

So you do, going back to what you were doing moments ago, quickly falling back into rhythm. Eddie grabbed and groped at your chest, kissing all over the new exposed skin, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth making you mewl. He sucked and nipped and caressed every inch he could get at until you were a whining mess.

“Please Eddie” you moan, hands raking through his hair.

“Here or the bedroom?” He asks, pulling off of your chest that was now covered in faded red marks and spit.

You chose the latter. He mumbled for you to hold on, picking you up and carrying you from the couch to the room down the hall.

He placed you down on the bed, you lay in the middle, head propped up on the pillows, looking around the room. It was messy, clothes scattered around the floor, books and sheets of paper with scribbled down lyrics, one had words on it that looked like a love song, you smile to yourself. How ironic.

Your attention is brought back to him when he starts to remove his shirt, revealing all the ink that was hidden behind it, you were taking it all in. You also notice the wet patch on his sweatpants where you had been sitting, your cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment “I’m sorry…”

He looks at you confused, then notices what you’re looking at and that smug grin returns “It’s all good” he comes back over to the bed, climbing on to lean over you “Another thing about virgins” he starts, undoing the zipper on your skirt and looking up at you for confirmation and continuing when you nod. He pulls it off leaving you in just your underware, his grin spreading when he sees that your fucking soaked “They get wet so easily.”

“Is that bad?” you ask, looking to find your underwear absolutely ruined.

“Fuck no, it’s good, really good” he hooks his fingers into the waistband “Can I?”

“Yes, please” you reply, desperate for him to finally touch you.

He pulls them off of you, shutting your legs at the sudden cool air hitting your dripping folds. “Just gotta get her warmed up first though, don’t wanna hurt her” he says, guiding your legs apart. You were confused on what he meant by her, but soon caught on that he was talking to your cunt, flushing at the realization.

He got level with it, you felt so vulnerable like this, his face inches away from your center. “W-what are you doing?” you ask, as he placed soft kisses to the inside of your thighs.

“Do you trust me?” he pauses, resting his head on your leg.

“Not in the slightest” you tried to bring that teasing side out again.

“Good” he smirks up at you “I promise it will feel good, haven’t had a complaint yet.”

He sees that uncertainty again and takes your hand “Hey, I promise” he tries again and for some reason you believe him. The way he looked at you, it made you feel different. Eddie wasn’t what you had expected, a lot softer, more caring, sweet and nothing like the rumours you’d heard. Perhaps it was because of the comment you made earlier “I can be sweet…if I want to.” He wanted to be sweet with you, but how many other girls had he been sweet with? Maybe he was just being like this to prove a point, you had to remind yourself you wouldn’t be the first and certainly not the last. You weren’t special, he was only doing this because you begged him to, because you were desperate like all the other girls before you. You had to remember that.

“Always wondered if you’d taste as good as you looked” he says, looking up at you from between your thighs. Always? You were so sure Eddie didn’t even know who you were until about thirty minutes ago, even if you did go to the same school, it was almost like he’d been thinking about you for a while. No. You told yourself that wasn’t what he meant.

You weren’t given enough time to over think his choice of wording anymore, not when you felt his tongue press against your entrance before licking a long strip all the way up your center to your sensitive clit.

“Holy shit!” you practically scream, your hand flying up to cover your mouth, you hadn’t been expecting it to feel like that. It was different, but a good different, fucking brilliant different. Your reaction only fueled his ego, so he continued lapping up everything you gave him. The sounds were lewd. You’d feel embarrassed if it hadn’t felt so good.

You looked down to find him already staring up at you with those big brown eyes, grinding his hips into the mattress below you. He sucked onto your clit, tugging on it and pulling off with a pop “Come on, let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.” He reached up to pull your hand away, placing it by your side “I like it when they’re loud, it’s good for the reputation” he gives you that cocky grin and you glare at him, but before you can think of something to say back, he’s diving back in again to devour you like a man starved.

You can feel the coil in your stomach tighten, but everything hits you tenfold when he slips one of his fingers into you making your back arch. His touch felt so good, he definitely knew what he was doing, you were beginning to understand why all those girls came crawling back even after he treated them like shit.

You felt his second finger push into you and with his hands being bigger than your own, the stretch was there, the slight pressure building, but he’s quick to ease you through it. “Oh fuck- Eddie please I’m gonna-” you’re cut off when he latches onto your clit again, curling the two fingers up into your sweet spot, leaving you moaning his name like a prayer.

Your hands reach for his hair, your grip tight, tugging on his scalp making him groan into you adding to the mix, making you tip over that edge. Your thighs closed around him, he didn’t mind though, he relished in the feeling of you grinding against his face as you rid out your high. “Fuck-” you whimper, he wasn’t stopping, dragging your orgasm out for as long as he could. It was entirely different to any you’d given yourself, stronger, you felt it through your whole body, like electricity running through your core.

You had to pry him away when it got too much, your thighs trembling with the oversensitivity. Your head falls back onto the pillows, breathing unsteady. “That was-” you couldn’t even find the words. You open your eyes to find Eddie hovering over you with that smug grin, lips puffy and chin glistening with your arousal.

“Still don’t think I’m any good?” he leans down to kiss you again, you could taste yourself on him, it made you ache.

When you finally came back down from your high, you were grabbing at him, his hair, chest, arms, waist, anything to bring him closer. You wanted more, needed him inside of you. You let your hands wander, sliding down the expanse of his stomach to the trail of hair at his waistband, he pulled back.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asks, brushing away the stray hairs that had stuck to your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m ready” he gives you one last peck before getting up to remove his sweatpants, opening up the bedside drawer and pulling out a foil packet and tearing it open with his teeth and rolling the condom down his legnth. You were staring at it. You’d never seen a dick in person, so maybe it was just because it was your first time, but he was big. It was definitely gonna be a stretch, you’d heard from others that the first time is almost always painful.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, sitting on his knees between your legs, hiking them up around his waist, his cock resting against your folds.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay” you swallow, diverting your eyes back to his.

“It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but if you need me to stop at any time just let me know, ‘kay?” he was rubbing soothing circles into your hip with the pad of his thumb, trying to get you to relax again.

“Okay” you nod, voice weak as he starts sliding his tip through your folds, nudging your clit, earning small gasps from you. It catches on your entrance and you screw your eyes shut, bracing yourself for what was coming. He pushes into you, one inch at a time, going slow and watching you for any signs of discomfort or pain.

The stretch was there, feeling like a dull ache, but nothing like you were expecting. “Just relax” Eddie’s voice made you release the breath you were holding.

He pushes over half his length into you and you whine, the ache growing a little, but you loved it, you wanted all of him. “Please Eddie” you reach for him, bringing him closer to you, pushing the rest of him inside as he comes face to face with you. You’d never felt so full.

“Fuck- you can’t just do that” Eddie groans as he bottoms out, feeling your tight walls stretch around him. He was leaning over you, using his forearms on either side of your head, caging you in, watching your face contort beneath him as you adjusted to his size. “Look at me” he whispers, so close you could feel his warm smokey breath on your neck. You open your eyes and he smiles down at you “How’s that feel?”

“Big” you sigh, the air having been knocked out of you, he laughs.

“I’m gonna start moving now” he warns you before pulling his hips back slowly, his cock dragging over spots deep inside of you that you hadn’t even known existed. Eddie starts his slow, languid pace, pulling out and thrusting back into at a painfully slow speed. He kisses all over, cheeks, lips, neck, chest, easing in and out, checking in on you, it feels great, but you need more.

“Can you go a little f-faster?” you gasp, his tip nudges over your sweet spot.

“Don’t wanna- shit- hurt you” he curses when he feels you squeeze around him, struggling to hold himself back from doing what he really wanted to.

“Please, I can handle it” you plead “I want it harder, please” voice going up an octave as his hips snapping into you.

“Don’t think I’d be able to stop if I do Sweetheart, are you sure?”

“Yes! Please, just- just fuck me already” you huff, frustration building.

He pulls all the way out until it is just his tip inside, then slamming back into you with brutal force. Your back arches off the mattress, hands twisting in the comforter beneath you as he starts fucking into you at an animalistic pace that had you seeing stars.

“B-better?” he pants, head falling into the crook of your neck. Maybe it was a praise thing with him, maybe that's why he slept around so much, the validation.

“Fuck- s-so much better” you cry, hands reaching up to run along his back, nails digging into his pale flesh when you feel him start to bite on your neck, sucking a bruise into your pulse point. With each thrust, he rocked his hips against you, the coarse hair at his base grinding against your clit.

You slid a hand up along his shoulder blades to the nape of his neck, finding purchase in his hair, tugging on it harshly earning satisfied moans from him. “Christ- You feel so tight, fucking pussy is taking me so well” he pulls away from your neck, meeting your fucked out gaze.

“Oh my- feels so good Eds, so close” you slur, drunk on his cock, the feeling of him pounding into you, abusing your sweet spot and the wet sounds echoing off the walls, had you hurtling to your impending orgasm. He reached behind and grabbed the back of one of your knees, pushing it further up, hitting you at a new angle that had you chanting his name like it was the only word you knew.

“That’s it, shit- squeezing me so fucking tight baby, you gonna cum?” he rests his damp forehead “Gonna cum all over my cock?”

You don’t even have time to find the words, your release hitting you like fucking truck. Your eyes rolling back, mouth falling open in a silent scream as you let the pleasure rattle through your entire body, your ears ringing. Eddie wasn’t long to follow, feeling your slick walls clamp down on him making him spill his load into the condom.

He collapses on top of you, both of you gasping to catch your breath. You’d never felt anything so amazing, your head was light, your whole body felt like it was on fire. You blink up at the ceiling, Eddie’s face planted in your chest, heartbeat racing.

A moment passes and you’ve never felt more content in your life, running your fingers through his hair as you both lay there, too spent to move, coming down from your highs. You felt him shift beneath you, pulling out of you making you hiss at the sensitivity. “Fuck” he lets out a long sigh, rolling over to lay next to you.

“That was incredible” you laugh, suddenly all giddy inside, turning on your side to watch him. He stood up, peeling off the condom and throwing it into the trash before picking up his discarded pants, slipping them back on and grabbing a cigarette from the table next to you. He offers you one which you take, it seemed like the right thing to do.

He disappeared down the hall, so you stayed where you were, puffing anxiously, he still hadn’t said anything. He returns a moment later, your clothes in hand, picking up the other scattered items from the floor and handing them to you. “Well this was nice and all, but I have company coming over, so you know...” Oh.

“Oh, yeah, right, sorry” you took the hint and got up, a small ache settling in your core. You silently changed back into your close, trying to ignore all those negative feelings that threatened to arise. Not now You told yourself. You knew this was going to happen, this is how it was always going to be. You had been preparing for this before you had even got here, it’s just how Eddie was, it wasn’t gonna change just for you. Though you had hoped that he’d even lay with you for just a little while or call you pretty one more time.

Once you were fully dressed, you checked yourself in the mirror, hair disheveled, smudged mascara and lip gloss, the purple bruises forming on your skin. You try your best to look at least half decent before you leave. Eddie clears his throat behind you and you fight the urge to hit him, he was giving you whiplash with how quick he went from being sweet and concerned Eddie to a complete and total douchebag.

You leave the room, him following closely after you. You grab your bag of weed from the coffee table and turn to him one last time, trying not to show anything other than that you were completely normal about this whole encounter. You’d tried to think of something smart to say, but nothing came. “Thanks for the drugs and well you know…” you divert your eyes to the door, noticing the rain “shit.”

“Well, better get home quick, looks like a storm is coming” Eddie sighs, opening the door for you.

You clung to your very thin and very absorbent jacket, giving him one last hateful stare before stepping out onto the porch. “See ya, asshole” you mutter the last word, hoping he didn’t catch it as you walked out into the rain. You knew this was how it was gonna end, you just thought you would have enjoyed it for even a moment longer, but here you were in your soggy shoes and drenched jacket, shivering with the cold, your thoughts eating you up inside as you start you long walk home.

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kingofbodyrolls · 4 months

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Stuck in a Snowstorm (m) | pjm

*Part of 'the winter collection'. Read part two. Part three coming soon!

Summary: You don’t know how you ended up here. Stuck with your mortal enemy, Park Jimin, in you car – in a fucking snowstorm.

Pairing: Jimin x female reader

AU + genres: enemies to lovers, pwp (very little plot – let me be honest, it’s just pure smut). Humor/crack, smut.

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 - this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 6,1K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Jimin is just a mean jerk and reader is a brat 😂 Lots of banter, crack and anger towards each other.

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, dirty talk, orgasm denial/delay, hair pulling, oral (female and male receiving), breasts and nipple play. Also, use of a tie 👀

Author’s note: This is actually a story that I planned to write all the way back in 2017 – better late than never, right? 😂 I had only made the plot with some outline, so I basically started from scrap. But it had been stuck in my mind since FOREVER and now I just miss Jimin a shit ton, so I made this. I hope you enjoy it! Also, it shouldn’t be taken too seriously, it’s just smut with minimal plot and don’t question the characters bad actions or some minor plot holes 😂 (Also, I did not proofread this, just because).

Also, merry Christmas / happy holidays – this is my gift to you wonderful people out there 💜

AND are you guys looking forward to Jimin’s ‘Closer than This’ tomorrow???? 💜

If you prefer to read on AO3 you can read it here 😀

“I can’t believe this…” in disbelief, you mutter, your voice tinged with uncertainty, while you desperately activate the windshield wiper, yearning for even a fleeting glimpse through the thick curtain of falling snow.

“I can,” Jimin declares from his spot beside you in the passenger seat. His playful critique follows swiftly, delivered with a pout and a firm voice, as he shakes his head in mock disbelief, “You're a terrible driver.”

“Am not!” you retort defiantly, your voice cutting through the air, even as your unwavering gaze remains fixed on the snowy expanse ahead.

A curtain of thick snow descends, veiling everything in an opaque white shroud. The road ahead is swallowed by the relentless onslaught, turning visibility into an elusive challenge.

Your hands clench the wheel with a vice-like grip, the strain evident as your knuckles whiten under the pressure. The tension in your entire body is so palpable that it hurts to fucking drive.

Exhaustion weighs on you heavily, a relentless burden, yet the realization hits that you're only halfway to your friends' Christmas party. Two more hours loom ahead, a daunting stretch of time spent in the company of Park Jimin, your sworn enemy.

The decision to share a car ride is a mystery even to yourself; perhaps it was a fleeting concern for the planet, a noble intention to save fuel by consolidating into one vehicle. Yet, as the journey unfolds, the real reasons behind your choice become an enigma.

Regret courses through you like a bitter undercurrent as you ponder the altruistic intentions behind considering the planet and the environment. The thought of advising Jimin to take his own car nags at you, a missed opportunity for a peaceful solo drive. In a self-cursing moment, you rue your own kindness.

“Let me drive; I’m a better driver than you anyway.” Jimin declares with casual confidence, his tone carrying an air of nonchalance.

“Fuck off, Jimin!” you hiss, frustration dripping from your words like venom.

You squint against the relentless assault of heavy snow, the world outside morphing into an indistinct blur as visibility dwindles.

Your pace is deliberate, a cautious dance with the road, but after several minutes, you relent, succumbing to the inevitable by slowing down even further.

“Fine!” you declare, seizing the steering wheel in a determined clench, bringing the car to an abrupt halt.

You pivot your gaze towards Jimin, the words cutting through the tension, “You fucking drive then.”

Shifting the car into park, you unclip your seatbelt with a determined click, swing the door open, and brave the biting embrace of the freezing snowstorm outside.

In synchronized movements, Jimin mirrors your actions, and together, you step out into the frigid air. The two of you converge outside, a silent agreement palpable in the crunch of snow beneath your feet, as you navigate around the car, preparing to swap seats.

“If you crash my car, I’ll kill you.” you menace, venom seeping through your words as you stride past him, positioning yourself in front of the vehicle.

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, a smug satisfaction evident in his demeanor, relishing the fact that you've conceded to let him take the wheel.

Jimin confidently eases his plump figure into the driver's seat, and you avert your gaze (definitely not looking!). With a self-assured demeanor, he expertly adjusts the seat to accommodate his frame.

You attempt to thaw your chilled hands under the blast of hot air from the air conditioner, the sour mood hanging heavy around you as you settle into the passenger seat, donning a visible pout.

“Relax, I’m not gonna crash your precious car,” he teases, the playfulness evident in his voice, just before smoothly shifting the car into gear and forging ahead.

In response, a huff escapes your lips, arms instinctively crossing in a silent declaration of your lingering displeasure.

You surrender to a sense of ease as Jimin takes the wheel, his deliberate pace aligning with caution. It's a mutual understanding — in this snow-laden terrain, slow and steady becomes a shared creed for safety.

The once teasing atmosphere now gives way to palpable tension, the air thick with the weight of swirling snow that has intensified. Jimin, too, struggles visibly against the heavier onslaught, the challenge of navigating through the snow turning the car into a place of shared unease.

Your gaze fixates on Jimin, observing as his fingers clench the steering wheel with a tension mirroring your own, and his shoulders stiffen in sync. A chuckle escapes you, unexpectedly audible, as you notice the ironic similarity between his reaction and your earlier demeanor.

“What’s so funny?” Jimin spits, the tension reverberating unmistakably in his voice, each word a note in the symphony of strained emotions.

“Your driving,” you start to chuckle, the amusement laced with a hint of mischief.

“You're not exactly outclassing my skills,” you declare, sinking into the seat with a self-assured smirk, relishing the satisfaction of your own driving prowess.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” he seethes, the words charged with anger, his gaze sharply turning towards you, locking onto your eyes.

Despite Jimin's cautious speed, the car subtly veers, casting doubt on whether you're still on the road or lost in the oblivion of the thick snow. The blinding white landscape offers no clarity, leaving you uncertain and immersed in a disorienting wintry haze.

“I can’t see fucking shit!” he exclaims, abruptly bringing the car to a halt and cutting the engine in an instant, plunging you both into an eerie silence amid the obscured surroundings.

Your gaze locks onto him, urgency etched across your face. “What are you doing? We've got Seokjin's Christmas party in less than an hour!” The frustration in your voice reverberates, a ticking clock amplifying the stakes of the impending deadline.

“It’s not safe to drive in this freaking snowstorm!” he bellows in response, frustration escalating in his voice, punctuated by the sharp flick of the hazard warning lights, signaling the urgency and danger of the situation.

“I just want to get there already. I'd rather not be stuck with you,” you seethe, teeth gritted, a visible huff escaping in a cloud of anger. The tension hangs heavy, fueled by the biting words that linger in the now frosty air.

“Like I'd willingly be stuck with your sour attitude,” he retorts, his gaze sweeping you from head to toe for some inscrutable reason. “I don't even like you,” he declares, the words loaded with an unspoken tension that hangs in the frosty air between you two.

You gape at him, the bitter truth resonating in the air—an unspoken agreement that neither of you harbors any liking for the other. The animosity between you has solidified into a hostile dynamic, despite the shared circle of friends that consistently throws you together, much to your enduring displeasure.

Jimin exudes an infuriating level of cockiness, ceaselessly pushing your buttons and expertly tapping into the art of annoyance until it feels like your nerves are unraveling at his mere presence.

You'd willingly brave the biting cold rather than endure the prospect of an unpredictable future confined with him inside the car. Fate seems to revel in mocking you, as the car rapidly succumbs to the encroaching chill, each passing minute intensifying the unwelcome cold that now permeates the confined space.

You clutch your arms tightly around your body, desperately running your hands up and down in a futile attempt to gather some warmth. A curse slips from your lips as you question your own sanity—why in the world did you take off your jacket for the drive? Now it's trapped in the damn trunk, and the thought of braving the freezing cold to retrieve it is utterly unappealing.

“Cold?” he chuckles, the sound carrying an edge of amusement that only amplifies the chill sinking into your bones.

You nod your head.

“Well, I’m not giving you my jacket,” he states matter-of-factly, cocooning himself in the evident warmth of his puffer jacket. Damn Park Jimin and his infuriating nonchalance, he's truly a master of being a jerk!

“Can't even manage a simple act of kindness,” you mutter with disdain, the words escaping in a sharp hiss, a low and almost grumbling tone, accompanied by a dismissive eye roll.

“What's that?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips, relishing the snug warmth of his jacket while you shiver in the cold.

“Fuck you, Park!” you shout directly in his face, your words laced with frustration. Instead of a retort, he just chuckles, the sound taking on a manic edge that lingers in the frosty air, leaving an unsettling resonance to your heated exchange.

An indeterminate amount of time slips away, lost in the relentless snowfall that shows no sign of relenting. Frustration building, you reach for your phone and decide to text Seokjin, realizing that this damn snow isn't planning on letting up anytime soon.

You [15.42]: Stuck in a snowstorm with fucking Park Jimin. I don’t know when we’ll arrive 🙄

Jin [15.48]: Just stay safe 😂

Fuck Seokjin! You’re convinced that he’s somewhere enjoying a good laugh at your misfortune.

A surge of realization hits you like a bolt of inspiration—there's a blanket tucked away in the backseat. Swiftly moving up, you make your way to the center console.

“What’re you doing?” Jimin questions, his curiosity evident in the quirk of his eyebrow as you navigate over the center console, leaving him bewildered by your sudden, mysterious movements.

“There's a blanket back here,” you announce triumphantly, finally laying hands on the sought-after comfort. With a satisfying plop into the seat, you tug the blanket snugly over your cold body, a gesture that transforms the atmosphere within the car from chilly discomfort to a brief oasis of warmth.

After a few contemplative minutes, Jimin breaks the silence with a question that hangs in the air, “Mind if I join you?”

Your mouth falls agape, and your eyes widen in astonishment at his unexpected question. Collecting yourself, you respond with a hint of sarcasm, “You weren't keen on sharing your jacket with me. What makes you think I'd be willing to share my blanket with you?” The tension between you and Jimin escalates with each word, hanging palpably in the cold air.

Without a pause for your response, he defies the silence, navigating over the center console with the same determined crawl you had exhibited moments before. The unspoken tension between you both amplifies, turning the confined space into an arena of silent rivalry.

Seated beside you, he makes a grab for the blanket cocooning your shivering form. Resolute, you refuse to surrender it, your hands engaging in a tug of war with him.

“Share, you brat,” he hisses with a mix of irritation and amusement, his determination evident in the forceful tug at the blanket.

“No!” you hiss back defiantly, the word laced with a stubborn refusal as you hold your ground.

With a forceful yank, he wrenches the blanket from your grasp, and in the struggle, he ends up with it draped across his lap. The victorious outcome of the skirmish leaves a charged atmosphere between you and Jimin, the warmth of the blanket now a coveted prize in his possession.

A triumphant smirk plays on his lips as he envelops himself in the captured blanket. His eyes lock onto your moping expression before descending further, a mischievous gleam indicating that his victory goes beyond the simple conquest of the blanket.

“I can totally see your nipples,” he chuckles.

You glance down, and sure enough, your nipples stand out against the satin material of your dress. Swiftly, you react, pressing your hands over your breasts in a sudden move to conceal their visibility.

“Why the fuck are you look at my tits?” you yell at him, your frustration audible, but he merely chuckles in response.

“You must really be freezing, huh?” he observes, and you simply nod in agreement, a silent acknowledgment of the biting cold that permeates the confined space.

“I can warm you up,” he suggests with a playful wink, both eyes and eyebrows conspiring in unison. The underlying implication of his words hangs in the air, and you instantly grasp the nature of his playful proposition.

“I'm not that desperate, Park,” you scoff with a hint of disgust, the rejection laced with a prideful undertone. In response, he simply chuckles, finding amusement in your candid dismissal.

Following his suggestive remark, an electric charge seems to surge through the atmosphere in the car. Your mind involuntarily races, envisioning the prospect of warming up next to him, his hands tracing every contour of your body, his di—

Stop. You admonish yourself sternly, a mental command to cease the vivid thoughts involving him. He's your enemy, you remind yourself, emphasizing the intense dislike you harbor for Park Jimin. The internal conflict heightens, the struggle between attraction and animosity weaving a complex web within your mind.

His chuckle resonates beside you, a sound that grates on your nerves. Irritation mounts, and you sharply turn your head towards him, your annoyance evident in the flicker of your gaze.

“Need help?” he inquires, his gaze suddenly deepening, the darkness in his eyes unveiling a subtle intensity that lingers in the air.

“With what?” you spit back at him, the confusion evident in your tone.

“You're grinding against the seat,” he bluntly points out, his gaze fixed on your crotch. You glance down, discovering your unconscious movement against the fabric of the seat. A sudden realization dawns, and an expletive slips from your lips.

A wave of discomfort washes over you, an intense desire to squirm and disappear into the ground, engulfed by the embarrassment that now saturates the air. The profound sense of shame hangs heavy, making the moment so excruciatingly humiliating.

You inhale sharply, drawing in a breath that seems to shudder through you, and with a deliberate move, you roll your hips once more.

“No…” you murmur, the word escaping with a shaky uncertainty that even your own ears can detect.

Jimin scoots closer to you, the warmth radiating from his body sending sparks that seem to dance through yours.

He leans into you, his mouth dangerously close to your ear, and in a breathy whisper, he offers, “I can help you with that.”

His words alone send a jolt through your body, a sudden tightening that ignites a fiery sensation. Damn it. The internal conflict and desire entwine, creating a tumultuous storm within you in the presence of him. It's undeniable—your entire being yearns for the touch you never thought you'd crave.

His warm hand finds its way to your thigh, and a low moan escapes your lips at the contact. Fuck.

His hand ventures down to the hem of your dress, grabbing and pulling it back to expose more of your thighs. A shiver runs down your spine as the cold air embraces your newly exposed skin, and a hiss escapes your lips. However, the sensation is quickly replaced by a different kind of warmth as his hand cups your clothed core. A breathless expletive escapes your lips, leaving your mind in a blissful blank state.

Instantly, you feel the warmth of his hand intimately against you, and your head falls back against the seat involuntarily. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you respond to the touch, unable to resist rolling your hips into the sensation.

“You’re needy,” he breathes against your ear, the words carrying a provocative weight that reverberates through you.

His warm breath sends a cascade of shivers down your spine, clouding your thoughts in a haze of desire. The desire for release intensifies, eclipsing any reservations you may have about seeking it from your mortal enemy.

“Shut up and just touch me,” you utter in frustration, the words punctuated by the deliberate grind of your hips into his hand, a desperate quest for any kind of friction. You're acutely aware of the desperation seeping through your actions, but at this moment, you don’t give a fuck.

And touch you he does. His fingers begin to rub your clit over the fabric of your panties, and you don't hold back your moans.

Your hips gyrate, a rhythmic dance in pursuit of your impending orgasm. The sensation builds rapidly, a cascade of pleasure on the brink. The question lingers in your mind—why does your body respond so eagerly to his touch?

He tugs your panties to the side, his touch on your clit eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. The warmth of his fingers against your skin amplifies the sensation, and you're already soaked.

“You're so wet already,” he chuckles against your ear, his lips teasingly grazing your skin. The desire to retaliate surges within you, but then, with a sudden and deliberate movement, one of his fingers enters your pussy, stealing your breath away.

He skillfully fingers you with one finger, the motion of his wrist simultaneously stroking against your clit, creating a sensation that's nothing short of delicious. The desire for more intensifies, an insatiable craving building within you.

“More,” you breathe, your voice escaping chapped and laden with a raw, lustful edge.

Jimin adds one more digit, and you relish in the precision with which he finds your soft spot, hitting it perfectly.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers?” he whispers in your ear, the suggestive question sending an instant jolt through your body, a yearning for more.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as you willingly spread your legs wider, granting him more space.

He deftly introduces a third finger into you, and you feel yourself losing control, swept away by the overwhelming pleasure. It's already so good—how is he so skilled with his fingers?

The way he skillfully uses his fingers inside you while simultaneously rubbing your clit with his wrist propels you relentlessly toward the precipice of climax. The knot in your stomach tightens, and you're on the verge of that intoxicating release.

“Jimin, fuck. I'm gonna come soon,” you pant, the urgency in your voice underscored by the rhythmic grind of your pussy against his hand.

He accelerates the pace of his fingers inside you, bringing you to the brink, but just as your body teeters on the edge of release, he abruptly withdraws his fingers and hand altogether.

His fingers and hand vanish, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. The abrupt absence intensifies the frustration and desire you feel surge through your body. Fuck!

Your legs tremble beneath you, and a frustrated hiss escapes your lips as you pant for breath.

“You didn't want to share the blanket,” he spews, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your evident frustration.

You're on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger. The desperate desire for release compounds the emotional turmoil within you. The audacity of him! The frustration boils over, cementing Jimin as nothing short of a fucking jerk in your mind.

“I'm not letting you come unless you beg for it,” he adds in a smug voice, a smirk playing on his lips as he purposefully puts some distance between you.

You can't believe him. The brink of pleasure was within reach—just a few more rubs and you would have unraveled on his fingers. The yearning is palpable, a frustrating ache that intensifies with each passing moment.

You growl at him, caught in a heated internal debate about whether to plead with him or not.

Your pussy clenches around emptiness, a visceral reminder of your desperation.

“Please, Jimin. Please let me come,” you implore, locking eyes with him and turning your body toward him. The desperation in your gaze is palpable. Almost inadvertently, you press your chest closer, your stiff nipples drawing his gaze downward.

He licks his lips teasingly, a wicked glint in his eyes, before seizing your hips and drawing you irresistibly toward him. With a swift yet controlled motion, he manipulates your body, guiding you to lie on the seat. As you settle into the unexpected position, he chuckles at the genuine confusion etched across your face.

“Because you asked so nicely,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and in a bold move, he shoves your dress up to your stomach. With swift precision, he snatches your panties, sliding them down your legs. “I'll give you what you want.”

He discards your panties with a deliberate flick, his focus unwavering as he plunges down to your throbbing pussy. There's no hesitation; he immediately delves into licking at your folds and clit with a hunger that matches your own.

Your body instinctively arches off the length of the seat, a wave of pleasure coursing through you. It feels unbelievably good. In the heat of the moment, your hands find his hair, fingers gripping and pulling at the strands, eliciting a guttural groan from him.

Your muscles tighten, and the echoes of the previous orgasm, forcefully ripped from you, return with an intensity that feels tenfold. Each breath is a furious pant as he continues to lap at your folds, the relentless pleasure building and intertwining with your gasps.

Then, with a skillful touch, he adds a finger to your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. Your senses heighten, and just as you succumb to the pleasure, he skillfully continues to ravish your entrance with his tongue.

“Jimin!” you scream his name, a raw and unrestrained cry escaping your lips as you reach the peak of ecstasy on his tongue. Your body tightens, toes curling, and you involuntarily hitch your heels against his legs. In the throes of pleasure, your vision blurs, and you fight for air.

He chuckles, a throaty sound that reverberates in the aftermath of your high. Not giving you a moment to fully come down, he skillfully inserts two of his fingers inside you, drawing a hiss from your lips at the touch—your body rendered oversensitive.

He extends his fingers, proudly displaying them, glistening with your intimate juices. A wicked glint in his eyes, he issues a command, “Clean them.”

You meet his gaze defiantly, a spark of challenge in your eyes, before obediently rising to carry out his command. Taking hold of his hand, you sensually draw his slick digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them like a provocative dance. Your eyes lock onto his, witnessing the raw desire in his gaze as you release his fingers with an audible ‘pop’.

“I hate you,” you declare, breathless, the words carrying a mixture of frustration and desire. His response is a low chuckle, his perceptive gaze catching the teasing glint in your eyes.

He leans back, a provocative smirk playing on his lips, and starts palming himself through his dress pants. Your eyes involuntarily follow the movement of his hands, and a jolt of desire courses through you as you realize he's already rock hard. The unmistakable bulge strains against his pants, a visual testament to the arousal simmering between you two.

“I can help you with that,” you purr, a sultry promise lingering in your eyes, eager to reciprocate the pleasure.

He chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and smoothly turns his body to fully face you. With a teasing smirk, he unzips his pants, skillfully pulling down both his trousers and underwear enough to liberate his hardened dick.

His cock springs free, defiantly brushing against the bottom of his loosened tie, a sight that's undeniably tantalizing. Perfectly sculpted, it's veiny and slightly flushed at the tip, mirroring the allure of every inch of him. A surge of conflicting emotions overwhelms you – the hate, the desire, the acknowledgment of his undeniable appeal. You despise how effortlessly good-looking he is, from the tousled blonde locks to those lips you now crave to taste.

However, your gaze returns to his dick, noting its average size but with a satisfying girth that catches your attention. A subtle hint of anticipation flickers in your eyes, and your tongue instinctively darts out to moisten your lips.

“Then get to work,” he pants, a breathy command, as he sensually spreads his legs, creating an inviting space for you.

You descend eagerly, ensuring your mouth is generously coated with saliva before you engulf him, starting with just the tip.

He hisses the moment your lips meet his dick, his head instinctively colliding with the window behind him, an involuntary exclamation escaping, “Ah, fuck.”

You engulf more of him, your mouth descending entirely, and the sound of his primal moan reverberates in response. You add a sultry hum, a note of satisfaction coursing through you.

You initiate a slow, deliberate pace, skillfully sucking him off, and anything beyond your mouth's capacity, you sensually stroke with your hand.

His hands seek out your hair, effortlessly capturing the neatly arranged high ponytail that he grasps with a possessive confidence.

You revel in the subtle tension, accelerating your descent on him with a newfound urgency. Your tongue skillfully traces intricate patterns, dancing across his tip and the sensitive folds of his frenulum.

He moans in ecstasy as you withdraw with a satisfying ‘pop,’ only to treat the head of his throbbing dick like a tempting lollipop, your tongue swirling around it with deliberate sensuality.

As you glance up at him, he appears utterly lost in the moment. His eyes, once vibrant, are now dilated orbs of desire, his parted lips releasing audible breaths. The state of bliss enveloping him transforms his features into a breathtaking display of vulnerability and beauty.

You envelop him once more, relishing the subtle tremor that courses through him, a tangible response to the sensations you're skillfully orchestrating with your lips and tongue.

He yanks you away from him, his voice a raw whisper laden with desire, “I want to fuck you.”

You prop yourself up, captivated by the transformation before you. The usual arrogant Park Jimin is replaced by this vulnerable, needy version, and against your better judgment, a desperate craving for him builds inside you. You ache for him to consume you entirely.

A mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you echo his earlier taunts, “Beg for it,” you challenge, aware of the palpable tension between you, a shared desire pulsating in the charged air.

A low, throaty chuckle escapes him as his fingers glide through the tousled strands of his blonde hair, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re really a fucking brat,” he hisses, a smirk playing on his lips.

He sits up, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he sheds his open jacket, the confined warmth of the car now turning uncomfortably sweltering. You can't help but acknowledge the irony; at least you're not freezing anymore, which, after all, was the primary objective of this unexpected detour, wasn't it?

“Please let me fuck you,” his plea hangs in the air, a desperate echo of your own request, and you can't help but chuckle, slowly crawling closer to him.

“Turn around, let me straddle you. Leaning against the headrest will give us more space,” you suggest, and he shifts in an instant, his arousal evident in the casual sway of his dick with each movement.

Then you confidently straddle him, your hand instinctively reaching for his dick, guiding him to align perfectly with your eager entrance.

Before you lower yourself onto him, you sensually trail his dick through your wetness, relishing in the intimate friction. A moan escapes your lips as you then descend onto his lap in one smooth, sultry motion.

The exquisite stretch sends a shiver down your spine, and he effortlessly glides in, eliciting a breathless ‘Fuck!’ from your lips.

As your hands find their place on his shoulders for support, his eyes, now hooded, follow your every movement as you begin to ride him with a rhythm that echoes the passion pulsing between you.

You pant furiously, your breath hot against his face. The sensation of him inside you is nothing short of heavenly, an electrifying connection that feels as if every contour of him aligns perfectly with every curve of your pussy.

“Ah,” ecstasy courses through you with each fervent bounce on his throbbing length, a harmonious rhythm of pleasure escaping your lips in breathless gasps.

“You’re so tight,” his ragged breaths synchronize with the rhythmic clench of your walls, his hands anchoring to your hips, adding an electrifying intensity to each blissful plunge into your velvet warmth.

Between gasps, you manage to growl, “Fuck. I hate you,” only to be met with his deep, throaty chuckle as he continues the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, each one a tumultuous clash of conflicting desires.

Amidst heavy breaths, he accuses, “I know you're lying,” his words punctuated by the rhythmic tempo of his panting. Undeterred, he leans in for a searing kiss, his lips caressing yours with a softness akin to pillows. Your defenses crumble as you melt into his touch, tongues colliding in a fervent dance that defies the lingering tension.

“Why is it that you feel so damn good?” you gasp, interrupting the kiss only to plunge back into its intoxicating depths. Each moment spent in his embrace feels like a surrender to a passionate whirlwind. His every thrust reverberates through you, sending electrifying shivers down your spine, an exquisite dance of pleasure and desire that you find impossible to resist.

“Perhaps I should prolong your climax, just as you did to me?” you purr with a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, resurrecting the playful brat within you.

He chuckles, his hands leaving the curve of your hips to gracefully undo his tie at his neck. Your gaze fixates on him, observing each deliberate move as he frees himself from the constriction of the tie, all while you continue to ride him with an unabashed hunger.

“You really are a fucking brat,” he mutters, the corners of his lips quirking into a sly smile as he pulls off his tie. “Now, shut up,” he commands, silencing any potential retorts by expertly stuffing the tie into your open, protesting mouth.

You yield to the makeshift gag, sinking your teeth into the fabric, muffling the symphony of your own desperate moans.

A smirk plays on his lips as his hands reclaim your hips, commanding, “Now take it like the fucking brat that you are.”

His movements become a relentless rhythm, thrusting deep inside you. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, swept away by the force of his desire.

Ecstasy courses through you, and you can't help but moan into the fabric of his tie. It feels too damn good to contain.

His voice drips with satisfaction as he senses your walls tightening around him, and a smug grin plays on his lips. “You like that, huh?”

A guttural moan escapes your lips in response, the crescendo of pleasure building, and you sense the impending climax drawing near.

“Fuck yourself on my dick,” his command hangs in the air, thick with desire, as his hands abandon your hips, embarking on a journey down your back. With a swift motion, he unzips your dress, letting it cascade down your shoulders.

Your naked breasts dances to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, an erotic ballet of passion and desire.

“Fuck. You’re not wearing a bra, just like I thought,” his eyes widen in delighted surprise, a devilish grin playing on his lips. His hands eagerly exploring the contours of your exposed tits.

His words hang in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. “Your tits are beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns around your stiffened nipples. Your body reacts instinctively, a primal moan escaping through the tie as desire courses through you.

Every grind and movement becomes a challenge as he expertly tweaks and pulls at your nipples, sending waves of pleasure and distraction through your body. You fight to maintain a rhythm, desperately trying to pleasure yourself on his dick amidst the electrifying sensations dancing across your chest.

As your walls clench around him, a whirlwind of sensations floods your body, signaling that the peak of pleasure is just a breath away. Every nerve is on edge, and the anticipation of an imminent climax tingles through you, a storm about to erupt.

As he skillfully massages your tits, he breathlessly teases, “You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” his words send shivers down your spine, intensifying the pleasure that's building within you.

With a fervent nod, you surrender to the sensations, your muffled moans echoing through the tie as pleasure courses through every inch of your being.

As he plunges into you, he urges you with a guttural command, “Cream my cock, brat.” The raw desire in his voice fuels the intensity of your connection, igniting a blaze of passion.

Overwhelmed by desire, his dick finding every exquisite spot within you, you unleash a guttural moan, your pleasure echoing into the fabric of the tie as you climax on his pulsating cock.

Jimin's fingers twist around your hardened nipples, sending electric shocks of ecstasy through your body. A guttural exclamation escapes your lips, muffled by the tie, as pleasure courses through every fiber of your being.

He pounds into you relentlessly, the rhythm building towards an intense climax. His hands firmly grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he desperately seeks his own release.

He reaches the peak of ecstasy, his body shuddering with the force of his release as he spills into the warmth of your pussy.

Heaving for breath, the silence between you two speaks volumes, a shared understanding lingering in the air as you descend from the euphoric heights of your climaxes.

Collapsing onto his chest, you revel in the soothing aftermath, liberated from the restraint of his tie. As his body relaxes within you, the intimacy lingers, a tangible connection forged in the heat of passion.

His lips graze your neck with a gentle touch, igniting a cascade of thoughts about the significance behind this tender gesture.

As laughter fills the air, shattering the lingering tension, your attention shifts to the foggy windows and the oppressive heaviness in the car, making each breath a deliberate act.

As you hastily redress, Jimin slips into his jacket and steps out of the car, retrieving your coat from the trunk. With a gentle handoff, he passes it to you, and you quickly slip into its comforting warmth.

“Thank you,” your gratitude escapes in a hushed whisper, laden with a touch of bewilderment. The encounter, while undeniably electrifying, leaves you grappling with conflicting emotions. It's Park Jimin, your sworn adversary, and the intensity of the shared moment hangs between you, a paradox of pleasure and rivalry.

“You’re welcome,” his response carries a self-assured smirk, echoing the lingering traces of the shared intimacy. As he confidently returns to the driver's seat, you mirror his actions, settling into the passenger's seat, both enveloped in a charged silence that speaks volumes.

The snowfall has eased, no longer as relentless as before. A subtle nostalgia creeps in as you reflect on his desire to keep you warm. The gentle flakes now fall, leaving you yearning for the lingering warmth of his touch.

As he revs the engine to life, a gust of chilly air sweeps through the car, causing you to emit an involuntary grunt. His chuckle fills the cabin, accompanied by a smirk and a teasing wink. “I can warm you up anytime,”

You shoot him a moping gaze, wondering if he has a knack for deciphering your thoughts. Can he sense the magnetic pull, the unspoken attraction that mirrors your own inner turmoil?

You return his smile, a silent agreement resonating between you as he steers the car forward, setting the wheels and unspoken possibilities in motion.

Three hours fashionably late, you finally arrive at Seokjin's Christmas party. The distant hum of music greets you as you step out of the car, signaling that the celebration is already in full swing.

As you rap your knuckles against the door, you steal a glance at Jimin who's busy adjusting his attire. His fingers deftly tighten the knot of his tie, and his pants get a quick, inconspicuous tug into place.

As Seokjin swings the door open, a tantalizing waft of mouthwatering aromas envelops your senses, instantly sparking a smile on your face.

Seokjin's laughter echoes as he playfully accuses, “You fucked Jimin!” and your jaw drops in disbelief to the floor.

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red-riding-wood · 2 months

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PSA - Community Predator

Over a series of months, myself and other Tumblr users -- fic writers, gif makers, fans of created content -- have been victimised by @mrkdvidal1989, who has extensively lied about who he is, preyed on multiple women and denied involvement -- therefore ruining friendships, reputations and feelings, and promised me life-saving medical treatment that he never followed through on.

More information including mine and their stories under the cut.

The reason I am going public with this is twofold:

A) To protect others from being hurt. He is known to reach out to many tumblr users, especially young women in the Cillian Murphy fandom -- but he may have a wider reach beyond this circle. B) Since his "disappearance" three weeks ago and the unravelling of his lies, this man has ruined my life and the only hope I had of obtaining treatment for a condition that has been plaguing me for four years.

Killian Vidal is the name he has chosen to give us, and has claimed to be both a officer commander and general in the mobility troop in the SAS (the general rank does not even exist), has beaten cancer a while ago (but said to another mutual that his "time was running out" and he is currently struggling with it), and a plethora of other life experiences and general knowledge about him that varies in consistency when talking to different people and is questionable in its validity. He has also shared pictures of "himself" that when reverse image searched, belong to different people.

I got to know Kill when he reblogged one of my fanfics (as the story seems to start with a lot of his victims) and he reached out via DMs. We quickly became close friends who called nearly every day on Discord and when I told him about my health issues, he immediately offered to pay for my medical treatment wherever I could find willing doctors.

I was hesitant to believe this at first since all of this seemed too good to be true (and was). He claimed to be very wealthy, enough to afford private jets like it was nothing and to rent me an apartment in the UK in the same building as him. Over time, I grew to trust him because he felt like such a genuine person and friend, which was made all the more believable by the fact that he has such a huge following on Tumblr and was, at the time, part of a vast social network of fans and friends (one of which he even claimed to know IRL -- who will remain anonymous unless they decide to speak out). I decided to ignore the little red flags because I was so desperate to receive this treatment that for me would be life-saving.

For four years, I have been plagued by an array of (mostly) undiagnosed digestive issues that have made my life almost unbearable and have on numerous occasions nearly killed me due to malnutrition. I've spent months in hospital, endured years of malpractice and misdiagnoses, undergone heart surgery, and have tried absolutely everything I can to get better. In the winter of 2023, I was told by my doctor that I was refused in the TPN program (a treatment that may have slowed or stopped my weight loss) and that with or without it, I was looking at mortality. Refusing to stop fighting but having exhausted the public health care system in Canada, I went into 2024 not really having much hope of anything anymore.

So, when Kill came along, that changed. He promised -- and I mean, from the bottom of his heart, promised -- that he would help me get treatment, that he would get me out of my abusive home and fly me to the UK, that he would be there for me as my friend, etc. I was beyond grateful, and as my trust with him built, so did my hope.

The travel plans kept getting put off; originally, he would fly me out as soon as the apartment became available, which was the 11th of Feb, 2024. He kept finding excuses to not book the jet. Finally, it seemed as if around the 15th/16th I would be flying. My health had been declining rapidly and the situation was becoming all the more urgent, and he said he was in contact with a pilot and would send the ticket soon and call me.

That was the last I heard from him. The 16th.

Initially thinking he had ended his life (he had discussed thoughts of suicide with me prior to this), I was beside myself with worry not only thinking one of my closest friends was gone but also that my chance at life was. I reached out to his other friends, and I made several calls to the UK authorities and emergency services and ended up requesting a welfare check be made to see if he was even alive.

They reported that no one under the name Killian Vidal was in the records of the building name he gave me -- the same building that I was meant to live in within that week.

After reaching out to my now beloved friend @kittenonpluto (A.K.A., Cas) on Tumblr, I learned that Kill was in fact alive, and had told her that he was in hospital for digestive issues in Indianopolis, United States (though again, no record of his name in their medical system). He still wouldn't talk to me, but told her to tell me that he would reach out when he was out of hospital.

Cas and I compared information he'd told us (her story will be attached to this post) and looked into the mystery more. He constantly dodged confrontation and questions about the fake photos and information he'd sent her, and seemed to use his completely fabricated hospitalisation as an excuse to not fulfil his promises to myself and her, as well as a means to garner sympathy.

It was quite obvious that he didn't know how the American medical system worked, and he even incorporated elements of my actual story and used them in his. When asked about his treatments, he responded with medically false information. He reported digestive issues, reflux, and having both an NG tube and TPN -- both of which I have experience with -- and let me say, I am beyond disgusted and infuriated that my real life trauma was used as a ploy in all this.

How do we know for a fact this is false? I checked the police case for his welfare check again, and they said that they confirmed him being in the UK at the same time he had told Cas he was in hospital in the States.

After a final confrontation from both Cas and myself (and a desperate final plea for the medical aid he promised me), he was never heard from again from either of us or our friend circles.

I'm now having to pick up the pieces he's left me in and to be honest, I have little to no idea of what the hell to do or how to save myself. The fact that he strung me along for a month and built up my hope that I was going to live only to abandon me without even a word is deplorable to me.

And mine isn't the only story. I've heard from four women on Tumblr (who, again, will remain anonymous unless they choose to speak out) who he has been romantic or sexually involved with (and lied about his involvement, made them out to seem insane or toxic, created rifts in our friendships, toyed with their emotions, and made false promises to of relationships, marriage, and finances).

And that's not including the ex-wife who came back to Tumblr to claim that her and Kill had never met nor married. She was promptly silenced by a "lawyer threat" that we have strong reason to believe was a bluff.

At the end of the day, there are so many lies, half-truths, inconsistencies, etc. this man has wrapped himself in and we don't know for the life of us what his motives are, but from the information that we do know is false, he isn't genuine. He toys with people. He hurts them. Myself and the others that have been affected by this want that to stop.

And at any point, he has the ability to make a new account, and take on a new persona, pretend to be someone else. Tumblr is a wonderful place and I have met so many cool people on here, but please be careful about who you interact with and what you share, because aside from making this post, it is beyond my power to stop him from doing what he does. But after what he did to me, I could not remain silent.

Other Stories

If you have an experience or story with Killian that you would like heard, please reblog it on this thread or make a post. With your consent, I can include a link to it below.

kittenonpluto's story

aurorag98's story

everyoneisawhore's story

your-nanas-house's story

hllywdwhre's story

Final Note

Lastly, if you have read this far, thank you.

If you want to reach out to me about this issue -- whether it's to anonymously share your experience, ask questions, ask for evidence (of which I can back up these statements with), or anything at all --, please do not hesitate to do so. <3

For those who may be worried about the potential legality of this post, everything that I have stated as fact is fact and it is not my intention to slander or spread false information.

#PSA #predator warning #my story with Killian #Cillian Murphy #Peaky Blinders #mrkdvidal1989

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pjsfvs · 2 months

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Friends? I Think Not - Choi Yeonjun

PAIRING: bff!yeonjun x female reader

SYNOPSIS: in which yeonjun, your best friend, learns about your rather unsatisfactory sex life. who better than him to show you how it's properly done?

GENRE: smut

AUTH. NOTE: my account is undergoing a huge switch so a lot of things will be changing :33

The room was too hot for your liking.

It was like this every time you came over to Yeonjun’s. You heard somewhere that cats were often fonder of hot temperature than cold. Maybe he really was a cat inside. You could bet your life insurance on that.

You let your eyes wander inside his comfy room. It felt more like home than your room did, somehow. As extra as it is, he hung dim lights from his room walls, insisting “it adds up to the mood”. His room definitely wasn’t that messy for a guy who lives alone, to your surprise. Never too bright, but not too dark either. Chaotic neutral. It fit his personality well.

“You come over pretty much every day, and yet you still stare around quietly as if it's your first time here. Is my room that much of an aesthetic to you?” Yeonjun laughed from beside you. One hand under his head, he found himself unable to divert his attention from you. Not that you minded, of course. You took the eye contact like a challenge, meeting his golden amber eyes with equal amount of... hidden intent. He looked at you as if he wanted something so desperately- like he was barely holding himself back. Soft gaze observing the entirety of your face, he quietly tried to burn every small detail to the back of his mind. As you would do the exact same.

If someone walked in on you two, it would look almost like you two were dating.

“It fits your vibe somehow.” You quietly muttered to answer his last question. As your friend let out a soft giggle at how your eyes were shining in the LED lights, he could’ve sworn he saw the entire milky way through them. To him, moments like these really mattered. Quiet, peaceful, just you two. Like nothing else existed in the wide universe.

Just you two.

“Were you talking about something you wanted to do?” You suddenly remembered about him talking about a game he wanted to play with you. Were Kai’s habits rubbing off on him? You always knew Yeonjun also liked to play games, but he never really asked you to humor him whilst shuffling around with the console.

“Oh yeah, but it’s pretty lame. I just brought it up because we had nothing to do today.”

“But we usually have nothing to do anyways.”

“Ouch, babe.” It took all your muscles tensing to stop yourself from reacting to that nickname. He always knew how to push your buttons to get you flustered. You weren’t going to give in like how he wanted. He could only let out another laugh at your expression.

“What did you have in mind, then?” Yeonjun awkwardly scratched the back of his neck while averting your gaze at your question.

You narrowed your eyes at his reaction. So, he said he wanted to it because “we had nothing to do”, but inside, he really wanted to try this game he was talking about.

“21 questions”. You couldn’t help but groan and roll your eyes.

“Come on Yeonjun, we’re not middle schoolers anymore. You could just ask anything you want to know, and I wouldn’t think anything of it.” Letting out a defeated laugh, Yeonjun directed his honey hazel eyes at you. You were not entirely sure what he was getting at, but his ability to have you remembering all the nights you dreamed of those eyes was something else.

Moments like these reminded you about how you dreamt about him so vividly often times whilst deep in slumber. The unavoidable eye contact briefly exchanged giggles, 4am conversations, slight brushes of Yeonjun's hand on yours- it spoke volumes. Even if both of you practically knew you had feelings for each other, neither had done anything to seal in the deal. For you, it was the commitment. You weren’t sure you would be able to handle him fully. He had been with you for better and for worse, in sickness and health, in ups and downs. Choi Yeonjun was with you through everything. He was someone you just couldn't afford to lose. He was precious, more valuable than anything you ever had in your life. That’s exactly why you were hesitant. If you two broke up, it would cost you too much. You were afraid. Afraid of losing him over something like... love.

If you had to ignore this feeling in your chest to have Yeonjun for your whole life, you would. You would choose him for eternity.

“Is there a specific question you have for me then?” You were forced back to consciousness when Yeonjun suddenly spoke. Momentarily, you were taken aback.

“Your body count?” You narrowed your eyes and voiced out the question that you’ve been curious forever. As far as you knew, he had two serious relationships, and a few on-and-off flings here and there. Judging people by their body count was dumb, and you were aware of that. But it did catch your interest.

“Six.” His piercing gaze never left yours while shifting on his bed to face your side. Fair.

“It’s my turn right? I’ll ask your body count too, then.” See? Any friend would be curious about these. Especially horny young adults like him and you.

“Four.” You said with a long sigh. You knew he would never judge you for it or anything, but it was still nerve wracking. Yeonjun’s expression didn’t change one bit. Instead, he still kept a close look on your face. Even without him voicing it out loud, you knew he was worried if you were insecure about it in any way.

“No, I’m okay Yeonjun. I know you wouldn’t think weirdly of me.” Letting out a laugh to lighten up the mood, you tugged your hair behind your ear.

“Hey, you continue with another question. You should lead these kinds of games, not me.” From the way he immediately lifted his eyebrow, you knew he didn’t mind controlling where this game went. Again, with the unbelievably attractive confidence of his.

“I see you as a 100% bottom, and I know I am right.” You furrowed your eyebrows at how overly sure he sounded.

“Do you have any ounce of dominance in you? Can you top anyone at all?” Damn, were you supposed to answer honestly, or act tough?

“…I’m not sure. I don’t think I do.” He let out a low whistle and a domineering smirk at your statement. Every single thing he does seemed extra attractive today, why was that? You could bet your monthly wage that it was on purpose to get you riled up.

You could almost physically feel Yeonjun’s eyes roaming through your entire body. It was hard to ignore when he was making the atmosphere thick to the point you could practically cut it with a knife. You two weren’t touching each other in any way, but the way he was staring at you felt like he was intentionally trying to get you in the mood. The mood.

“Next question, baby?” You felt your face getting hotter by minute. You couldn’t help it when he practically purred your favorite pet name with that face.

“Could you stop that-”

“But your reaction is too good to pass on.”

“How good would you say you are in bed? You can be honest you know; I wouldn’t judge~” You let out a choked laugh and covered your mouth to prevent laughing in his face. Yeonjun chuckled at your question too, but still kept the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Well, you could see that for yourself, can’t you?” Him licking his lip slightly didn’t go unnoticed. These small sly movements never went unnoticed with both of you. Taking on the silent invitation, you lightly pulled at your shirt collar. He tried hard but gave into temptation in the end. By the way his eyes stayed a few seconds more than appropriate, you knew it was revealing your collar bone right now. Or maybe a bit more.

“I’m not sure, no man has ever satisfied me in bed before you know.” Yeonjun's eyes snapped at the unexpected statement. You could practically hear his inner voice. Four bodies and-

“You mean you’ve never came in bed? Like, never?”

“Never.” Before you could process what was happening, you felt a shift in Yeonjun’s mood. By the time you returned your eyes to his, the only thing you could see in those beautiful hazel eyes were desire. Burning fiery desire, and pure sinful lust. Just with his hot intense gaze, you unknowingly rubbed your thighs together.

“Want me to change that?” Despite his explicit suggestion, he gently put a hand on yours. You knew that if you said no here, he would not pursue anything. He would drop it in a second and continue normally like how you two did until now. Never did you even think Yeonjun would look at you this way. With such tempting desire written all over his eyes.

You knew you shouldn’t give into the voices in your head. If you did this, it would be harder to ignore your feelings. Those feelings that are overwhelming inside of you, it would get harder and harder to manage. You should refuse.

But your body acted otherwise.

“Maybe you should.”

As soon as you muttered the words Yeonjun had been longing to hear, his persona changed in a split second. He flipped you over easily and got on top. As he hungrily looked down at you, he felt a sense of pride he never felt before. He was going to own you. Him. Not anyone else.

He wanted you. You, every bit of you.

Never once in your life have you felt such desire before. Never did you ever want someone as bad as you wanted Yeonjun right now. You hated that it had to be him, but it didn’t matter. Not when you had your hand in his hair, kissing until you two were out of breath. His hands never stopped roaming around your entire body like you were already his property.

“Baby… You have to promise to tell me if you don’t like anything that I do. Anything. Is that understood?” Yeonjun’s honey eyes found yours again. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. You nodded and pulled him in again.

As soon as your lips met, a fire ignited. It was like you two were waiting for this very moment for forever. You were finally able to inhale the masculine scent of Yeonjun. Like a mixture of caramel, rosewood and musk, his smell was intoxicating. You couldn’t get enough of him.

You were still unsatisfied by the time he broke away from the kiss. With a low chuckle, he took another look at your current state. Cheeks burning, eyes clouded with nothing but pure desire. Your body practically waiting to be ravaged by him, there was nothing sexier than that in the world.

“Yeonjun…” You let out a quiet whimper when he dived in for another kiss. Slowly, his lips slid all the way to your neck. His hot breath fanning over your skin, you inhaled sharply in order to stabilize your breathing. As Yeonjun’s large hands carefully slipped your smaller ones into his hands, he softly held them.

“Tell me, baby.” You opened your eyes at his request.

“Tell you what?”

“That you want me as much as I do. That I can fuck you the way I’ve always dreamt of.” The vulgar words that came from his mouth sent a violent shudder down your spine. You were not used to dirty talk, but it was something you would gladly get used to if it meant Yeonjun was the one.

“I-I….” You found yourself struggling to follow his commands.

You let out a sharp gasp when Yeonjun grabbed both your wrist by his single hand and pinned it above your head. The forceful slam on the headboard rang in your ears as you found yourself staring at the man with wide eyes. His beautiful eyes looked dangerous. Like a wolf staring at his prey.

“You have nowhere to run now, baby. Follow my orders, and I might just reward you.” Struggling to hold his heavy gaze, you closed your eyes.

“I want you so much, Yeonjun… Fuck me, you can do anything you want with me!” He lets out a low groan at your sweet words, the grip on your wrists tightening. Yeonjun jumped at the opportunity to spread your legs and position himself in between. Immediately, you whimpered when his clothed length rubbed against you.

“Good kitty.” Yeonjun whispers into your ear. He moves more, slowly grinding his hips against your throbbing core. The action had you choking back a needy moan. Even from that, you could tell how delicious his cock would be when you finally had it for yourself. Arousal flaring through your entire body, you struggled to stay still.

“Look at me.” Even if you heard his command, you couldn’t do so immediately. Not when you felt your entire body crumble with the slightest of movements. Not when you knew you were soaking through your panties by now. You felt so overwhelmed with desire for him.

“Fucking look at me when I tell you to, baby.” He spat the venomous words, landing a slap on your inner thigh. You flinched at the unexpected contact and let out a broken moan. You couldn’t help but meet his dangerous gaze.

“That’s right, keep your eyes on me. I want those pretty eyes on me only.” He said whilst grinding even harder against your clothed heat. His dick was so hard, you could practically feel him pulsating. He was rock hard- for you.

You bit your lip to maintain your voice while still holding the eye contact.

Once again, he leaned into your neck. When he placed a gentle kiss, you let out a small whimper. You couldn’t help but find your fingers tangled in his messy black hair all over again. When his hot tongue started traveling over your sensitive neck, you bit your lip even harder. You made a futile attempt to move your arms. Yeonjun was having none of it- the iron grip he held was too strong.

“Stay still, slut.” Your eyes flew open. It was so unexpected, but so delicious to hear from his swollen lips. You couldn’t help but let out breathy moans here and there when he ravaged your neck as much as he could. He didn’t leave a spot open, not an inch where he didn’t kiss, bite or lick. You were sure to have quite a few love bites tomorrow.

He let your wrists go to take off your top and skirt. You faintly remembered wearing tights. When he noticed the thin material, he didn’t give you a chance to answer before instantly ripping it to shreds. Roughly stripping you out of the clothing, he hungrily took in the sight of you in your underwear.

God damn, you were stunning. Your beauty could rival any goddess. And you were all his.

“Mine.” He growled when placed a kiss on your collarbone. He unhooked your bra and threw them across the room. Large rough hands fondling your tits, he continued the trace of love bites downwards. He wanted to mark every inch your body if he could’ve.

As much as he wanted to just destroy you immediately, your pleasure was the priority to him. He had no intentions of rushing anything today. But even so, some things had his patience running out.

You let out a loud gasp when he ripped your beige panties as well. The unexpected gesture sent a burning arousal straight to your core. You were sure to be soaking wet by now, you could even feel it yourself. The sudden exposure to the cold air had you shivering.

You made a futile attempt to close your legs in embarrassment. Contrary to your wishes, Yeonjun’s hands held a firm grip on your thighs to prevent that.

“Don’t you dare hide this pretty cunt from me, baby.” The absolute filth coming from your usual science-nerd best friend had you clenching around nothing down there. The need of having him inside you was growing rapidly each second. You wanted to touch, kiss, and feel him in every way you could.

So you decided to test what he questioned earlier. You flipped over.

Having Yeonjun under you felt like winning a prize, somehow. You felt a sense of absolute pride, and wanted to own him like he was talking about. You wasted no time in connecting your lips to his and proceeded to take off his hoodie. As soon as his top was off, your eyes ran hungrily over his ripped abs, and gosh, he looked so darn beautiful. Drunk off his manly cologne, you wanted to taint him with your scent. If you were animals, you wanted to knot him with your mark. You badly wanted him, in every way possible.

Your hips moved automatically, grinding against him sensually. Growling, Yeonjun’s tongue swirled around yours. The hot open-mouthed kiss took your breath away, your nails sinking into his shoulder. When you finally broke away, you were conflicted on what you should do next.

Yeonjun took the second of hesitation as a chance to get on top again. He flipped over with such ease, as if you were as light as a snowflake.

“When did I give permission to do that, y/n?” Your name sounded dangerous when he growled it like that. Once again, you felt your hot core pulsing and dripping.

“Keep your eyes on me while I eat this pussy out, doll.” His narrow eyes looked even sharper than before when he finally had a proper look at you. The sight of you naked, whimpering his name was something he would never forget.

He secured his grip on your thighs before diving in.

Yeonjun’s hot breath over your soaking cunt, he took a second to spread the lips apart. Almost immediately locating your clitoris, he lightly teased it with his thumb. Satisfied with how your body shook violently, he felt himself get rock hard.

When his hot tongue brushed over your sensitive clit, you could’ve sworn you saw stars. Dark hazel eyes never once leaving your orbs, he carefully observed your reaction to each of his motions. You let out a sharp yelp.

Yeonjun experimentally flicked your bud. Wet muscle attached to your swollen clit; his wolf-like eyes never left your face. Lewd sounds of your juice filling the room- your cheeks burned in embarrassment.

Wasting no time in finding your sweet spots, he left you clawing on his bedsheets in no time. He circled his wet tongue teasingly on your bundle of nerves, he lightly flicked it directly. The sensation too mind-blowing, you cried out his name. Yeonjun was relentless in his actions, fingers sinking into your soft thighs as he ate you out like a man starved. He wasn’t afraid to get messy, all he cared about was how your body trembled every time he sucked gently on the sensitive bud. Brutally ravaging your cunt, he sensed that you were nearing your orgasm.

“Y-Yeonjun, I-I’m close!” You cried out, gripping the bedsheets like your life depended on it. Nothing could prepare you for the powerful orgasm that was coming, you could just hope you wouldn’t go mad. It was so close; you were so close-

Until he pulled away.

Eyes wide with tears, you whimpered and stared at Yeonjun pleadingly. Not sure what you could even say, you wiped the tears brimming your eyes.

Before you knew it, he had started again.

Yeonjun had made it his goal to edge you until you lost your mind completely. The sight of you so fucked out, completely succumbed to him- Yeonjun groaned into your cunt at the thought.

He would do it until you felt the knot in your lower regions, threatening to break any second- And then stop. You would chase your high, pressure in your lower stomach building up more and more- until he ripped it away from you. After waiting a few seconds for you to cool down, he continued his assault again. It felt like he’s been going at it for hours.

“J-Jun…Yeonjun. Please, please let me cum..!” You cried weakly, hands finding its way to his messy locks again. Lightly pushing his head further, you wanted him to eat you out like a man starved. Make you cum over and over again.

“Are you sure, baby? I could keep doing this for hours, you taste too sweet to pass on.” You shook your head violently, eyes getting teary again from the brutal orgasm denial. All you wanted was your orgasm that had been ripped away from you too many times.

“Please, please…”

“Beg me more, baby. Call my name like it’s the only word you know.” He went back to eating you out. The sound of his wet muscle connecting with your own fluids was embarrassing, yet oddly intoxicating. It turned you on even more.

“Please let me cum… Yeonjun!” As soon as you choked out the name, Yeonjun’s eyes snapped in your direction.

The endearment brought out his animalistic instincts further. Loud slurping noises fill the room once again, just this time even more furiously. His tongue brushed over your clit over and over again, until you finally felt the knot come undone. You weren’t prepared for it to come so fast, a loud moan being ripped from you. Long awaited orgasm washed over your entire body, you saw pure white. Only, white quickly got painted with scarlet when your desire for the man in front of you awakened once again.

Yeonjun kitten licked your pussy, having a taste of you once more. He was addicted to you.

The sinful sight of him made your cheeks flare, and core clench against nothing. Even if it was immediately after cumming, you felt the growing need to have him inside of you.

“Fuck me, Yeonjun. Fuck me until the only word I know is your name.” You spat out, hopefully to hit a nerve and have him claim you the way you’ve always dreamed of. Your eyes went wide when he slammed his hand on the headboard and glared down at you with furious glint in his eyes.

“Don’t order me around, slut. You better use the right word to address me from now on.” You felt your entire body shudder at his words. He was so naturally dominant, the need to submit completely to him growing.

Yet, you couldn’t help but want to provoke him further.

“Or what, you wouldn’t fuck me? We both know you can’t wait another second until you stuff that thick cock into my- Ah!” Yeonjun pulled you closer to him by roughly pulling you on your thighs.

“You’re playing with fire, cumslut. You better be ready for the big words you uttered just now.” When you saw him finally position himself at your glistening wet folds, you felt your body catch fire. You wanted him so bad it was driving you insane.

You knew you could take whatever Yeonjun could give you. As you directly met his burning gaze, you took in the sight of him smirking darkly at your request.

His length was impressive, to say the least. Both length and width exceeded the standards of average, your mouth watering at sight. You were positive that it would hurt like losing your virginity all over again.

Even so, it was Yeonjun. It was with him, so you could take anything. You wanted everything he could give you.

When you looked into his honey hazel eyes again, all you could see was your own fucked-out expression and pure lust dripping from them. They stared at you with such fiery passion, it was addicting.

“Hang on tight, doll.” Your delicate hands were placed on his wide shoulders as you anxiously awaited him to finally slip it inside you. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead gingerly, which took you by surprise.

As he rubs his thick tip on your entrance, you both sharply inhaled with a breathy moan following afterwards. Yeonjun staring at you with such eyes, it felt amazing to be claimed in such intimacy.

He slowly pushed his length inside while hearing your beautiful voice, mesmerized. The thickness caused a sweet burn inside, making you arch your back. Even if it hurt, you didn’t want him to stop.

“Does it hurt? Are you okay?” Yeonjun was undeniably worried at your slightly grimacing expression. That was not what you wanted to hear.

“Stop being a pussy and fuck me like you promised you would, Yeonjun.” You intentionally used his name to piss him off. You knew you were saying this even when he hadn’t bottomed out yet, but you couldn’t help it. The desire to be ruined by Yeonjun was too overwhelming.

He grunted before pushing in all the way without any warning. You yelped, nails digging into his shoulder. The sweet pain of being stretched out by the man you’re in love with was indescribable. When your tight cunt clenched around him, Yeonjun shuddered.

He didn’t wait a single second to go absolutely wild with you. As if unleashing a beast in slumber, his eyes shone in a new light you had never seen before.

“You’re so fucking tight, this pretty cunt is all for me” He sounded like he was talking to himself more as he dragged himself out to the very tip, then slamming it back in. The sound of skin slapping against each other mixed with the air smelling like sex itself, you lost yourself in the moment. Entire body burning with desire, your mouth hung open. You had absolutely zero control over your voice as you freely let out the embarrassingly loud moans spill. Yeonjun’s eyes darkened at the delicious sound, he landed a sharp slap on your inner thigh again. And again. It was sure to bruise by tomorrow.

Yeonjun kept up a rather fast and rough pace, contrary to what you initially imagined it would be. Because of his naturally teasing and laid-back personality, you figured he would fuck that way too. However, right in this moment, you only felt yourself and him fucking like animals in heat. Your neck sinking into his back, you cried out louder. The only thing keeping you sane in this moment was the feeling of his thick cock slipping in and out of you. He was addicting, and he knew it. The higher he took you, the greedier you became.

You had the nerve to scream when you could barely take the current pace. Yeonjun thrusts became faster and rougher, the iron grip on your hips causing darkening spots that would bruise. You were practically sobbing when he started rubbing circles on your clit alongside. Entire body shaking with each thrust, Yeonjun’s eyes were still observing you to find your g-spot.

You hated and loved how observant he was.

In under a minute, he found your sweet spot inside as well. When he noticed your breath hitching louder and body shudder more violently, he knew he hit the jackpot. As he targeted that specific spot, you felt tears rimming your eyes. The high-pitched moans coming uncontrollably out of your open lips were doing a lot of things to Yeonjun. He fucked you exactly the way he promised.

Landing a loud slap on your inner thigh again, he slipped out.

You almost cried and was prepared to beg for it again Contrary to your initial thought, you found yourself being forcefully flipped over to a new position.

“Face down ass up, baby. Hurry up.” You immediately followed his words and sticked your ass against his length again.

Your mind went blank when he slipped his thick cock again into your deliciously tight walls. The new position bringing out newer, vivid sensations, you moaned needily. Yeonjun’s low voice with his breathy moan was sinful- music to your ears.

“Ngh, jun- feels so good-!” You clawed at the bedsheets, wrinkling it up more. Your mind couldn’t focus on anything else other than the sweet sensation of his thick cock filling you to the brim and bringing out moans you didn’t know you could produce. Yeonjun’s mind was also foggy, the feeling of your tight pussy and beautiful voice feeling like a dream.

When he dragged his veiny cock over your sweet spot from behind, you screamed at the feeling. Too embarrassed to hear yourself in such manner, you sunk your head to the pillow below you. Yeonjun immediately noticed you trying to lower your moans.

He landed a sharp spank on your ass this time, leaving a pretty red print behind. You couldn’t help but let your voice out and looked back at him. When he glared at you with those eyes, you knew what he was thinking even without him voicing it out.

“Don’t fucking make me repeat yourself, cumslut. You are mine, let me hear those pretty moans.” You weakly nodded, struggling to stay in position. Every time he slammed into you, you saw red. You had never felt anything like this before.

“I’m going to own this pretty pussy and fill it with my hot cum until you can’t take it anymore.” His dirty talking had you clenching around him immediately. Yeonjun inhaled sharply at the tightening, landing rough spanks here and there. The sweet feeling of being pounded raw filled you with desire, every ounce of you focusing on Yeonjun. Nothing else mattered beside you and him.

“Who is making you moan so loud? Tell me, slut. Who owns this pussy? Who do you belong to? Fuck, such a good girl.” You let out needy moan after moan, the sharp sounds of his hip snapping against yours filled your ears. Yeonjun groaned in an animalistic manner and gripped your hip even tighter with one hand. Slamming forcefully on the headboard, he gripped the wood so tightly it turned white.

“'m a good girl, Yeon-yeonjun owns me-” You were surprised you managed to form a sentence with your mind in such state. The man you’ve harbored feelings for years, pounding you rough and raw from behind. It was still unbelievable. Yet, sparks flying and the addicting feeling of his cock slipping in and out of you had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You could focus on absolutely nothing than his fat dick filling you up.

Your orgasm was quickly approaching, sensitivity heightened when Yeonjun pulled you by your hair. Yelping in pain, you felt yourself drool. The fast and rough pace he had never slowed down, not even a second. Every time he slipped out, he explored you inside out and hit you in the spots you never even knew you had. When his large hands wrapped your thin neck, the delicious adrenaline rush flowed through your veins. Slightly struggling to breathe, your orgasm heightened even more. It was so close-

“Y-Yeonjun, I’m-!”

“Let go baby, you’re doing so well. Cum on my cock, baby girl.” Almost immediately, you cried out and let go. The feeling of your crashing orgasm driving you crazy, your entire body trembled with oversensitivity. Yeonjun let out a low grunt next to your ear, finally letting go of your neck. You didn’t even have the chance to breathe properly again before he started the cruel pace again immediately after your second orgasm of the night.

“W-Wait Jun- Nhh ah!” You couldn’t form any word with the current state of mind, not when he was drilling into you like there was no tomorrow. You finally remembered he still hadn’t came yet. Gulping, you tried your best to hold on until he came undone. You didn’t even notice the string of saliva slipping down your chin when you were too busy trying to push your ass more towards him. Yeonjun bit down on your shoulder as he desperately tried to hold in the moans as he himself approached his high.

“Come in me, junie. Fill me up with your cum and make me yours, I want all of you so bad, Yeonjun!” You couldn’t help but speak everything you were feeling out loud. The unexpected honesty ignited a new flame inside Yeonjun, causing him to bite down even harder. You were so irresistible, and all his. The wonderful submission you had in your voice was absolutely beautiful.

“Fuck, such a good girl… All mine… You are mine, (y/n). You hear that…?” You grimaced from the pain, but still let out strained moans at the brutal pace he was still keeping. The inability to reply verbally slipped out of your mind again, all you could feel was the veiny cock rubbing against your cushiony walls. Your tear-stained cheeks rubbing against the bedsheets, you finally felt him release inside you with a single loud moan. When he shoot his hot semen inside you, you greedily tightened around him. The feeling of being filled to the brim with his seed set your cheeks on fire.

You whimpered when he pulled out, few drops of cum slipping out of you.

When he struggled to steady his breathing, you collapsed in his arms. Yeonjun looked at you in such loving gaze, you felt your heart hammer against your chest. He was wonderful, you felt yourself falling deeper in love if that was even possible. Yes, love.

Love?

An anxious feeling made your stomach drop now that you regained all your senses. What did this mean?

When you were too busy contemplating what to say, Yeonjun took the initiative.

“Baby, I know this isn’t exactly the right timing to say it, but…” You immediately realized what Yeonjun was about to say. Before you could realize, you had interrupted his speech.

“W-Wait Yeonjun!” His honey eyes immediately snapped towards you, eyebrows ever so slightly furrowing. He looked scared, suddenly. The fear of you not sharing his feelings arose, Yeonjun uncomfortably flinching.

“What’s wrong…? Did I hurt you? Or-”

“I love you, Yeonjun.” Your sudden confession shot an arrow straight through his heart, you could even feel his excitement and relief through his gaze only. But you knew that if you wanted to keep this relationship stable, you needed to voice out the concerns that kept you from confessing all those years.

“But I’m afraid. So afraid. I am afraid because I love you so much, it drives me mad sometimes. We’ve been through pretty much everything, we know each other so well. And I know that I love you more than anything in this world. But if this relationship fails… and we somehow break up… I am not willing to lose our friendship over something like this, Yeonjun. I’m not sure if we should… do this.” Yeonjun’s eyes glistened sadly at your confession. He wasn’t sure how to react while he was listening. As his warm hands lightly rubbed your thighs to help with the soreness, he couldn’t help but panic over your thoughts.

“Baby, I would love it if you didn’t take our relationship so lightly.” You snapped your eyes at Yeonjun, only to meet the most serious he has ever looked as far as you have known him.

“I love you. And you love me back. We are not going to break up. I am going to make you happy, keep you safe and sound, and marry you. I will have cute children with you, and make sure they live happily too. I can promise myself, my whole self-” he put your hand on his chest, where you could feel his beating heart. “-to you.” His eyes were dead serious. He meant every word he said. The heartfelt words had you tearing up immediately. That’s it.

That’s what you’ve wanted to hear all these years. Those words from your other half.

Putting your hand on his cheek, you smiled at the love of your life. You couldn’t believe that this was reality, that you will spend your whole life with him.

“I love you, my baby.”

“I love you too, so much.”

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yesimwriting · 5 months

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okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader

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