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doormatty3 · 6 months

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A True Gentleman (Patrick Wilson x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Summary:

[Patrick Wilson x Female Reader] [Patrick Wilson x You] He's just one of those terribly handsome dads that you're gonna talk about with your colleagues later - that's your initial thought when you meet Partick at a parent-teacher night. Those bright blue eyes, soft brown locks, charming grin, and that damn black wool sweater leave you smitten. When you accidentally burn your hand with hot coffee, he's a true gentleman, escorting you to the bathroom. But when seeing the two of you in the mirror you soon find out he's just as smitten and he teaches you the most important lesson - all you have to do is ask. OR: Patrick teaches you to be quiet while taking his cock

Wordcount: 7,673

Warnings: 18+, fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, breeding, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, smut, dirty talk

A/N: This happened when I saw that picture of Patrick at the Sitzprobe for the 80th anniversary concert in London. Jesus fucking Christ HOW does he look so good in that black wool sweater.

I also wrote this while having Corona - great success

AND: Merry Christmas to you all

A hurried glance at the clock sends a surge of anxiety through your veins - you are late. While that would normally be excusable you know that it won't be today since you’re expected to attend one of the infrequent parent-teacher nights at the school. What complicates matters further is that you’re a teacher and parents wish to consult you to find out how their kids are doing.

You gather your students’ files from the table in the teachers’ room you were sitting at, cursing when you drop a sheet of paper.

All this stress is certainly not treating you well so you stop to take a breath, telling yourself that it will be fine, especially because not many parents have booked a slot with you. If your memory doesn’t fail you it should be two appointments this evening, one at the beginning and one at the end of the time period.

As you stand in the teachers’ lounge, you take another moment to compose yourself. With a deliberate sweep, you smooth over the fabric of your skirt and inhale deeply again.

You gather your paperwork and your files and step you, leaving the confines of the room.

Stepping into the corridor of the cool, a wave of hustle envelops you. Lockers line the walls, intermittently punctuated by vibrant bulletin boards displaying student achievements as well as upcoming events and general information. Your footsteps echo rhythmically through the hallway as you walk.

You exchange quick greetings with anyone you encounter in passing.

Observing from behind, his short, curly light brown hair styled backward catches your attention. Some rebellious locks playfully curl around the nape of his neck, framing the contours of his ears. It’s a distinctive look, one that would undoubtedly be etched in your memory had you encountered him before.

Fuck an internal curse echoes through your thoughts as you approach your office and find a tall man standing in front of it with his back turned to you. His figure is outlined by a snug wool sweater that accentuates the breadth of his shoulders.

You sift through your mental catalogue of students and their parents, but his name remains elusive, a puzzle piece refusing to fit.

Maybe he is standing in for the mother of his child? Because his presence seems out of sync with the typical attendees of parent-teacher events. The subtle cues in his body language, the nervous weight-shifting from one leg to another, and the intermittent hand running through his styled hair, all suggest a discomfort that aligns with someone unaccustomed to such gatherings.

“Hi, I’m so sorry! I lost track of time while grading papers”, you greet him with a sheepish smile, closing the distance between you, “I hope I didn’t let you wait for too long?”

He turns around, and you involuntarily suck in a breath, an immediate heat spreading across your cheeks when his gaze meets yours.

He’s handsome.

Bright blue eyes, reminiscent of a cloudless sky, reflect the ambient light in the hallway, exuding a unique vibrancy. His high forehead suggests intellect, complemented by a straight nose that adds a touch of refinement to his features. Thin, defined lips curve with an understated confidence, leaving an indelible impression. His well-groomed hair, mostly obedient, frames his face, yet there's an artful disarray - a few wayward locks that seem to defy the meticulous order.

He instantly breaks into a bright smile that reveals a set of perfect, white teeth and causes the skin next to his eyes to crinkle with an infectious warmth.

“Hi, it’s no problem. I was early anyway,” he reassures you with a friendly, soft tone.

You can practically feel his eyes raking over your form and some part of you desperately hopes that he likes what he sees. He embodies one of the terribly handsome dads that you and your colleagues will talk about in the future. You’re sure that he turned quite a few heads coming in.

With another smile, you turn toward the door, unlocking it with a practised ease. Gesturing for him to enter, you open the gateway to your office, inviting him in.

Closing the door behind him, you discreetly seize the opportunity to check out his ass.

He patiently waits for you to finish your task before extending his hand.

“I’m Patrick Wilson, by the way. I’m here because of my son,” he states, properly introducing himself.

You take his hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his firm handshake, a physical reflection of the confident presence he exudes.

As the name resonates, you recall Patrick Wilson’s son. The mental fog lifts, revealing a memory of a nice and quiet kid excelling in your class.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wilson. Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?” you inquire.

“Please,” he says, accompanied by another of his infectious smiles and a playful wink, “And Patrick is fine.”

“So, I’m sorry to ask, Patrick, but I am curious…” you begin, and he looks at you intently, one eyebrow raised in anticipation, “You’ve never been at a parent-teacher night as far as I can tell... so why now? Is everything alright with your son?”

“Alright,” you giggle, caught off guard by the unexpected lightness he brings to the interaction. A momentary realisation hits you – he even made you giggle.

God, get a grip.

“Oh, oh yes,” he scratches his head, running his hand through his hair with a smile directed at you, “Normally his mother attends these… but since we split up, I just wanted to make sure he’s okay.”

Shit , you think, a sudden understanding dawning on you. Not only did you bring up a personal topic, but you did it with a lack of sensitivity.

“I’m so sorry, Patrick! I didn't mean to be inconsiderate,” you express genuine remorse colouring your words.

The sincerity of your apology reflects the understanding that you unintentionally touched upon a sensitive matter. He seems like a nice guy, and his child is genuinely a sweetheart, making the inadvertent misstep all the more regrettable.

Patrick makes a reassuring gesture with his hand, “Don’t mention it, it's fine—we just weren't compatible anymore.”

His understanding response eases the tension, but you can't shake off the lingering discomfort from your unintentional insensitivity. Despite his graciousness, the awareness of being a dick lingers, leaving you with a sense of regret.

“Let me get you that coffee, Patrick,” you suggest, gracefully redirecting the conversation. Making your way to the coffee machine in the room, you seize the opportunity to shift focus.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” you hear him say, his steps echoing behind you with a hint of sincerity.

You instantly stop in your tracks and turn around, catching Patrick off guard and causing him to collide with you.

His hand instinctively grabs into your waist, steadying you, you’re enveloped in his clean and fresh scent that lingers in the air. It’s a captivating aroma, reminiscent of the sea breeze on a crisp morning. The subtle notes of a light, refreshing cologne mingle with a hint of oceanic elements, creating a fragrance that is both invigorating and oddly comforting.

“Sorry,” Patrick murmurs, his face inches from yours, his breath brushing against your cheek.

“It’s okay,” you reply, breath catching as his fingers briefly tighten. Your gaze traces from his eyes to his lips and back up.

Nervously, you gulp at the close proximity, feeling a subtle tension in the air. Wetting your lips, you sense his eyes following the movement of your tongue. The touch of his large hands still lingers, a residual warmth seeping through your shirt, leaving a searing imprint that adds to the charged atmosphere between you.

“You didn't - it’s fine. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured or anything and felt that a coffee might be what we both needed,” you explain, stumbling over your words.

He nods in response and takes a step back. Instantly, you find yourself missing the warmth of his touch, a subtle yearning lingering in the aftermath of the unexpectedly close encounter.

You turn your back to him, attempting to compose yourself and switch on the coffee maker. It’s a proper barista machine, a deliberate investment made some time ago to make the longer hours spent in your office more bearable. The rattling of the machine reverberates loudly in the otherwise quiet room.

“How do you take your coffee, Patrick?” you inquire, attempting to shift the focus to casual small talk as you turn around to face him. It’s a subtle effort to smooth over the residual nerves lingering from the unexpected closeness a moment ago.

He embodies the epitome of cool and collected, casually leaning against the wall in the middle of your office. The ease with which he carries himself creates a visual snapshot, a moment you'd capture if you had a camera, as he appears as though he just stepped out of a magazine.

“Oh, just a dash of milk, please. No sugar,” he smiles at you, pursing his lips in an adorable way.

“Milk is in the fridge behind you,” you say, pointing at the small fridge. Turning back to the machine, you proceed to pour both him and yourself a cup of coffee.

After a few moments, you turn around again purely on autopilot to retrieve the milk from the fridge.

What you did not expect was Patrick’s strong chest colliding with yours again. He had just taken the milk from the fridge and intended to bring it over to you.

The sudden impact causes the freshly brewed hot coffee to spill over. It hits your hands, searing them with a sharp pain. A pained yelp escapes your lips, you involuntarily release the mugs. They shatter on the floor, adding a chaotic note to the unfolding moment as you clutch your burning arm.

Patrick's eyes widen in shock as he observes the aftermath of the spilled coffee, freezing momentarily in place. It's only a brief pause before he snaps into action, his apology filled with genuine concern.

“Oh god, I’m so, so sorry,” he utters, his voice laced with remorse.

Moving gently towards you, his eyes remain fixed on yours, a mix of shock and worry evident in the depths of his gaze.

“Let me see,” he coaxes, reaching for your hand.

Despite the pain shooting through your arm, his touch is surprisingly gentle, the warmth of his fingers a stark contrast to the burning sensation. As he holds your hand, the close proximity causes goosebumps to erupt all over your body, a physical reaction to the unexpected intimacy of the moment. Your hand, seemingly small in his, accentuates the vulnerability that has unfolded in the aftermath of the accidental mishap.

He holds your hand gently, his fingers trailing over the burned skin with feather-light touches. His eyes remain locked onto yours, the connection is unbroken. The tenderness in his touch offers a contrast to the pain.

“We should cool it,” he says quietly, his blue eyes intently staring at yours.

Despite the throbbing pain in your hand and arm, an unexpected sense of peace washes over you. Patrick’s gentle care and his big hands on yours feel surprisingly right, creating a moment you don’t want to end.

You find yourself imagining those large hands cupping your naked breasts, rolling your nipples between strong fingers, teasing and twisting and pulling just a little too hard. You can imagine the look on his face too, that concentrated expression, with furrowed brows and pursed lips, dedicated to the task at hand.

Struggling to regain composure amid the pain and the magnetic pull towards Patrick, you concede.

“You're right,” still savouring the comfort of his gentle strokes, “Some cold water may help”

He nods in agreement, his eyes shifting from your hand to meet yours, “Lead the way.”

“You don't have to…” you trail off. While it’s kind of him to offer assistance and accompany you, you convey that it isn't necessary.

Instead of arguing, you surrender to the sincerity of Patrick's offer, a subtle nod expressing your acceptance of his assistance.

“I want to,” he insists, his expression serious.

“It’s the least I can do…” Patrick says, his remorse evident. The warmth inside you grows, appreciating his genuine care despite the unintended hurt.

As you navigate towards the door, Patrick silently trails your steps. The subtle echo of his presence resonates in the corridor. Exiting your office, the two of you proceed towards the bathrooms. You can feel his proximity, a comforting closeness that extends beyond mere physical presence.

Patrick, without uttering a word, places his hand on the small of your lower back. It’s a gentle yet firm touch, a constant reminder that he's right there, steadfastly supporting you. The warmth from his touch permeates, creating a silent connection between the two of you.

Arriving at the bathroom, you open the door, and your eyes catch Patrick standing there, uncertain. The moment hangs in the air as he seems unsure of the next move.

“Can you come with?”

The request lingers in the air, wrapped in a delicate vulnerability that you allow to seep into your words.

“I don’t want to be alone in case I faint or fall.”

Patrick nods understandingly and opens the door for you, his hand gently guiding you with a reassuring touch on your lower back. As the door closes behind you two, you realise you’re in the typical school bathroom. Under ordinary circumstances, you might have opted for the private restroom reserved for teachers. Yet, in the current moment, with only a few parents and teachers lingering in the school, the distinction seems inconsequential and you're sure that you won’t run into someone you know.

That’s a half-truth. You’re veiling the fact that your injuries aren’t severe enough to induce fainting.

Yet, there's a subtle comfort in the notion of having him by your side. It’s not just about the potential physical support - you want him to accompany you to get to know him a bit more.

The bathroom is illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights that reflect off the white-tiled walls. The atmosphere is surprisingly calm, creating a stark contrast to the heightened emotions of the previous moments. Patrick’s continued presence provides an anchor, his hand still resting on your lower back, a gesture that feels oddly comforting in this ordinary yet intimate setting.

You stand at the sink, rolling up your sleeves, and let the cold water cascade over your burned hand and arm. The stinging pain intensifies, pulsating with each beat of your heart. Examining it closely, you notice red patches forming, and it looks like there might be blisters beginning to emerge. Despite the discomfort, you continue to let the cold water offer some relief.

As you stand there, you can't help but entertain a fleeting thought. Perhaps there could have been a better way to spend the evening than standing in this school bathroom, cooling your injury under a tap.

“You doing okay there?" Patrick’s melodic voice breaks through your thoughts. Your head snaps to him, and the sudden movement makes you wobble, momentarily losing your balance.

The image of Patrick in that damn wool sweater crosses your mind, and for a moment, you think about just taking it off him and about how that would lead to a much more enjoyable evening.

However, with a sigh, you push the thought aside, focusing on the practicality of treating the burn in the present situation.

He notices you are off-balance instantly, and he comes over to stand behind you, steadying you with a supportive touch. As you look at both of you in the mirror, you can't help but feel a sense of contrast. In his presence, you seem small, almost dwarfed by him, his large form surrounding you.

You sway a bit against him, feeling the steadying comfort of Patrick’s arms wrapping around you as soon as he notices.

“This is surprisingly effective,” you comment, a small chuckle escaping your lips.

As you rest in the circle of his arms, you become acutely aware of the heat emanating from his body, the solid warmth of his broad chest against your back. You can’t help but feel arousal pooling in your veins, slowly but steadily spreading through your body.

With a playful tone, Patrick responds, “Well, I aim to provide top-notch steadying services.”

“You got a talent for it, Patrick,” you quip, enjoying the warmth of the embrace.

He chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest against your back, “Well, it’s all in the technique. A mix of charm and muscle, you know?”

“Ah, the secret recipe. I appreciate both elements,” you play along and you do appreciate both, they make an intoxicating mix. And if you’re honest your fingertips tingle to trace them over his mentioned muscles - over his hard chest that you feel rising and falling with every breath, over his strong arms that are wrapped around you.

His tone becomes a tad more serious, his arms tightening around you protectively, “In all seriousness, are you feeling alright? That burn looks like it stings.”

You nod, “Yeah, it does, but your impromptu rescue mission is definitely helping.”

He grins, “Glad to be of service.”

You can’t help but admire Patrick’s attractive smile. It’s something you’ve noticed before, but now, in the reflection of the mirror, you find yourself truly appreciating the genuine charm it holds. The interplay of his features, the crinkling at the edges of his eyes, the sparkling of his blue eyes like light falling onto a smooth water surface … it all adds an extra layer of warmth to the embrace.

Caught up in the moment you rub your ass against him, wanting to know if he feels that spark too.

His only reaction is a sharp intake of breath when you brush over his groin but nothing that indicates discomfort.

So you do it again, harder this time, feeling him hardening against your ass.

Patrick tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer. In the reflection of the mirror, you find his gaze and fuck, you like what you see.

His eyes, once soft blue, have deepened into a more intense shade, revealing a hint of desire beneath the furrowed brows. The subtle play of light and shadow casts a captivating look on his face, where concentration blends with a dark allure. His lips have curved in a half smile, a mix of amusement and something more primal.

Patrick rubs his nose against the side of your face and breathes in, before sucking at the sensitive spot under your ear.

Your knees buckle and you realise that you're held upright by his steady grip on you.

“You know you could have just asked… no need to spill coffee and injure yourself,” Patrick murmurs against the back of your neck, his voice low enough that the slight growl of it vibrates against your skin.

Then his mouth is on yours.

Hot, heavy, heady, like you could get drunk off his kiss. You return it with the same intensity as you feel arousal crashing through your veins the sting of your hand long forgotten.

A happy murmur escapes him, reverberating through you low and dark when he notices your enthusiastic response. Immediately you feel the need to hear it again, so you move a hand under his sweater, the warmth of his muscular chest against your palm ignites the fire in you.

All logic and reason is gone when you dig your nails into his skin and he groans again, heavy against your lips.

Strong, hard fingers dig into the soft muscle as he devours you. You’re fairly sure that his grip will leave bruises and push harder against him.

His hard cock feels big against you, you can’t help but wonder if you’d struggle to take all of him in your mouth.

While you know that there are at least four layers between you, his probably tight boxers and the blue jeans as well as your underwear and dress pants, it feels immaterial. Like he would just be able to push inside you with one hard stroke.

You end the kiss gasping for air, both breathing heavily and you take in the reflection in the mirror.

Would he try to push three of those thick fingers inside your cunt? To edge on that boundary of pleasure of pain before withdrawing and going back to two.

The hand on your hip that is digging so deliciously into your flesh is flexed and you swallow thickly, noting the long fingers.

You wonder if he was able to fit two inside you, making sure you were ready for all of him because evident by his hard dick pressing into the low of your back, Patrick is no small man.

Patrick keeps his eyes locked on yours as he slips on hand under your shirt, making sure that you’re fine with it. When he registers no opposition from you, he places his hand on your breast, touching it through your bra.

His finger rubs over your nipple, eliciting a quiet moan from you as it feels like electricity shoots from your breast to your pussy. Involuntarily, your free hand finds the edge of the counter to grip something as your other hand digs into the hard muscles of his back. He squeezes them again, before letting his hand wander underneath your bra, pulling the cups down, so he can reach your boobs easier.

Patrick’s palm cups your naked tits and you feel the rough, warm skin of his strong hands. You can’t help but bite your lips when his fingers run over your nipple in an almost lazy gesture.

You push back against the hard swell of his cock in an attempt to also give him some friction or motivate him to touch you more.

Apparently, it works because he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, moving back and forth until they are stiff, before squeezing his fingers together roughly. You moan and arch your back, pushing into his hands at the sudden roughness that just touched that border of pain that you like.

He pulls your head back to kiss you deeply. His tongue curves gently into your mouth and runs over the edge of your lip, coaxing you to flick your tongue against him. You lean fully into the kiss, deepening it even further.

With one last flick on your nipples, he slides his hands out of your top and breaks the kiss. His hands find the hem of your shirt.

“This okay?” his voice is rough and deeper, clearly affected by the situation, His eyes are bright and questioning as he looks at you in the reflection, waiting for a response.

You nod breathlessly - to be honest you’ll be fine with whatever he does to you at this point. But the way he smiles and presses a quick kiss to your neck almost makes you swoon.

Patrick pulls the shirt up and off over your head, leaving you in only your bra is already pulled down to reveal your breasts.

For a split second, you wonder if he may not like what he sees but they melt away when you see the barely constrained heat and desire in his eyes as he licks his lips unconsciously. He runs his palms over your back, arms, and neck before bringing you back for a kiss while undoing your bra and sliding it off you.

You tug on his sweater, telling him wordlessly to take it off, something you have itched to do since you’ve first seen him. He obliges, pulls it over his head and you’re left with Patrick Wilson shirtless. A breath hitches in your throat as you take him in - a broad chest, muscular, dusted with hair, and a prominent line going down over his stomach.

You sense that you aren’t the only one who is eager to finally see what you only felt earlier.

He engulfs you again from behind, reclaiming your mouth into a kiss. You close your eyes to relish the feeling of his hot, hard, and bare chest on your back.

Patrick plants new open-mouthed kisses down the edge of your throat and neck, leaving brightly coloured marks in his wake. With each nibble and soft scraping of his teeth against your skin, you feel yourself getting wetter, the fabric of your underwear getting slicker.

Your eyes flutter closed when he runs his hand over your collarbone to cup one of your tits in his big palm, every touch of his fingers setting your nerves alight with blazing desire.

Patrick squeezes your breast deliberately, weighing it in his hand. You can feel his gaze on you, watching you, seizing your every reaction to his ministrations. Wanting to see him, you open your eyes and lick your lips breathlessly as you take him in. His eyes are heavy-lidded and the soft blue has given way to the blackness of his pupil. You watch his hand grope your body, mesmerised by the ripple of his muscles and the map of veins on his arms.

He lets go of your tit and places his hand on your sternum, fingers sprawled out to touch as much of you as possible and keep you upright as you feel your knees buckle a bit with his burning touch and tenderness while his other hand continues to explore your body, moving downwards.

His hand massages the inside of your thigh, drawing lazy circles and patterns before his strong fingers edge closer to your cunt. You can’t help but whimper when he trails his forefinger over the seam of your crotch.

“Needy,” he groans into your ear, hot breath fanning over it.

He has the nerve to shoot you a wink and a lopsided grin before he increases the pressure and repeats the motion. Your head falls back against his shoulder and you grind against his hard cock again. You’re pretty sure that he has to be able to feel the dampness seeping through the material of your pants.

A hiss escapes you when he uses the tip of his finger to gently rub over your clit and part of you is amazed that he manages to find it even through your pants. Your mind is blissfully blank, nothing is relevant and existing except the warmth radiating from Patrick’s broad body behind you and the wonderful feeling of his finger on your clothed cunt and clit.

You arch against him, pushing your ass into his covered cock. A jolt of pleasure courses through you as you hear him moan lowly against your ear. His eyes flutter closed and his jaw is slack in arousal as he rubs his dick against you.

You don’t think you have seen him look more beautiful today.

Unbeknownst to you, the words escape your lips, and a redness fans over your cheeks when you notice Patrick’s eyes opening, warmth evident in them. His lips curve into a sweet, shy smile, and the blush that creeps to cover his chest only enhances his handsomeness.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, his voice carrying a blend of sincerity and quiet delight before capturing your lips in a slow kiss.

His hand shifts against your hip, edging into the waistband of your pants as his fingers dance over the bare skin before he hooks them into the seam and drags both your pants and underwear down over your ass.

When his fingers trail over your bare cunt you let out a whimper and buck into his hand, desperate for him to give you more.

Patrick captures your mouth again in a wet kiss, biting down on your bottom lip just as he slips one of his thick fingers into your wet pussy. He swallows the moan that escapes you and you feel his cock twitching against your ass.

Suddenly, you are aching to touch him more too, to tease him in the same way he drives you insane. So you reach behind you to free his dick from his jeans.

His stomach muscles tense when you graze them softly with your nails. With your gaze trailed on him in the mirror you watch his reaction to you. His lips are parted and his eyes are watching you intensely, his finger thrusting shallowly into your cunt, not going deeper than the first knuckle.

Impatient you tug at his jeans and boxer shorts, pulling them down to expose his cock. Your fingers curl around him instantly, eliciting a deep and feral sound from Patrick that makes your whole body tingle. He feels hot and heavy inside your hand and you were right with your previous assumption - he is big. You move your hand over the length of him, swiping your thumb over the head to add to the stimulation.

Patrick moves his hand, so he can use the ball of his hand to rub against your clit, making you gasp sharply.

Finally , he adds another finger and pushes them in completely, You mewl, bucking against his hand as you enjoy the way his thick fingers feel inside you, deliciously stretching you.

You pick up the pace, letting your hand glide over his cock faster and he retaliates.

Patrick thrusts into you faster and you whimper when the edge of his palm meets your sensitive clit hard. The wet sound of him fucking your cunt with his fingers is loud in the otherwise quiet room. When he curls his fingers inside of you, you stop jerking him off. Both of your hands come to grip the edge of the counter, overwhelmed by the sensations.

Your mind is void of thoughts only the feeling of Patrick’s hard, hot body behind you and his thick fingers inside your pussy persist.

A loud moan falls from your lips when he adds another finger. Three of his strong, long fingers are pushing into you, feeling almost too big as the stretch is bordering on uncomfortable. With every thrust, you whine breathlessly as you grind into his hand.

Patrick only fucks your cunt a few times with three fingers before switching back to two that feel just perfect now. His palm still provides friction on your clit, slowly but steadily leading you to your high.

You whine when he pulls his hand back, “Please, Patrick -”

“I love it when you say my name,” he groans and nips at your neck before he taps your lips with his fingers, prompting you to open your eyes which you closed sometime during this as well as part your lips. Patrick pushes two of his slick fingers into your mouth, and the salty flavour of your pussy settles on your tongue as you lick and suck on them.

His mouth is on you the second he withdraws his fingers, tasting you on your tongue. He murmurs something against your lips, raw and deep but your brain is too foggy to register the words.

More, you just want more. More of him, his fingers, his everything.

And it seems like Patrick has a similar idea because he grinds his hard cock against the lips of your cunt, coating himself in your wetness, nudging your sensitive clit in the process.

You’re sure that you don’t breathe when he pushes forward slowly. Patrick’s head falls forwards onto your shoulder with a groan as he fills you. When he bottoms out, he stills, his fingers digging into your hips sharply when he lets you adjust.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well,” his voice is muffled by your shoulder but the dark, masculine edge to it sends shivers through your veins.

Patrick lifts his head, pressing one lingering kiss to your shoulder, before catching your glaze in the reflection. He gives you a cheeky wink and pulls out only to slam back into you.

The drag of his cock over the slick walls of your cunt felt heavenly, hitting all the right spots and filling you to the brim. You push back against him to meet him for every hard stroke. As much as you want to keep quiet you just can’t.

In the reflection of the mirror, you watch the way his muscular arms bend and tense as well as the tightening of his abs whenever he thrusts inside you. You watch his cock plunging into your cunt, shining when he pulls back.

You clench around him, making him groan as he continues his fast pace. Patrick moves one hand from your hip to your clit, the pad of his fingers scraping over it softly, adding to the stimulation. You know that you’re close, the combination of everything adding up much quicker than normal.

The rhythmic clicking of heels echoes outside on the linoleum floor of the corridor and catches your attention. Initially uncertain if it's just your imagination, but Patrick gradually stills in his movements, causing an involuntary whine to escape you.

“Quiet”, he hisses, his head turning towards the door.

The clicking of heels draws nearer, and a sense of urgency tightens its grip on you. Your mind goes blank, leaving you unsure of what course of action to take and how to diffuse the compromising situation.

Patrick’s quick thinking kicks in with a fluidity that catches you off guard. In a deft movement, he seizes both your shirt and his pullover as he smoothly guides you backward, his cock slipping out of you. The urgency of the situation propels you both into a nearby toilet cabin, the door closing behind you with a hushed click.

The creak of the door opening sends a jolt of tension through you. Whoever was in the corridor has now entered the bathroom, and your hope intensifies that you both managed to grab everything in the hurried move to the cabin.

Patrick seems fairly sure of that as he takes a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, pulling you onto his lap with a seamless motion. The sound of the other person fades into the background as you take the opportunity to study him. Dark eyes, watching you intently, swollen lips, tousled curly hair, shirtless with sweat glistening on his broad chest and his cock still erect.

Something short circuits in your brain as you take in the handsome man opposite you as you mumble under your breath, “Jesus Christ, Patrick” and you feel the undeniable urge to taste him, feel him, and touch him.

You let your fingers brush through his hair, scraping your nails over his scalp as you completely mess up the neat styling of his curls. In the back of your head, you note, that his hair is pleasingly soft to the touch.

Patrick in turn grabs the back of your head, pulling you into him to claim you in a kiss. It is soft and easy, his tongue slipping into your mouth to nudge his.

He pulls back with dark eyes and drips his head to whisper into your ear, “You gotta say quiet, can you do that?”

Almost as if on cue you hear the other person in the bathroom entering a cabin.

And Patrick lifts you as if you weigh nothing and angles his cock before pulling you down on it. When he fills you completely and unexpectedly you cannot fully suppress the quiet moan that spills over your lips.

You instantly bite down on your lip, afraid that you were heard but nothing happens and Patrick doesn’t seem to be worried by it.

He thrusts shallowly into you while keeping his eyes firm on yours.

You feel like it’s all too much and not enough at once. The stretch of his dick inside you is just perfect, he feels deeper in this angle. You can’t help but roll your hips on him, desperate for more - even if you’re not sure what this more is.

Patrick cups your face and pushes your hair out of the way before looking into your eyes and pulling you into a deep kiss. You moan into his mouth when he thrusts upwards hard a few times.

He pulls back to whisper into your eyes, each word accompanied by a stroke of his dick, “It turns you on, doesn’t it? That they could just catch us…”

You clench around him because yes it turns you on beyond belief and he hoarsely chuckles.

You’re afraid that the other person will hear you with every sound you make and that you can’t suppress. You concentrate on the feeling of him inside you. How his body radiates an impossible amount of warmth, how he seems to surround you completely, and how he fills you entirely.

Desperate to also make it harder for him to suppress his sounds you start trailing kisses from his mouth over his jaw, subtle stubble prickling against your lips. You feel him swallow thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing. His fingers around your hips tighten, bruising your skin and making you whimper.

The other person seems to have left the cabin since you hear water running, you were so preoccupied you didn’t hear them flushing or unlocking the door.

Patrick’s fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you back to speak in a hushed voice again, “Do you want us to be caught? Do you want them to find me balls deep inside your cunt?”

You shake your head, no you don’t want them to know what Patrick’s doing to you. The consequences would be catastrophic. You’re supposed to tell him how his sons doing in your class, not letting him destroy you in a public bathroom.

“No, I don’t. But I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you manage to grind out lowly and breathlessly.

A sound deep in his chest rumbles and he cradles your face in his hands again to kiss you heatedly.

Finally, you hear the door. You’re alone again.

Patrick heard it too, because he gives you another searing kiss before thrusting hard, eliciting a moan from you. You hear the wet sounds of your cunt around his dick as he drives into you in earnest. His hand comes to rest on your clit, rubbing circles, desperate to make you cum now.

You bite your lip and watch the tensing of his muscles whenever he drives into you with purpose his gaze however is trailed on your pussy, looking at how his dick disappears into it.

You clench around him as Patrick brings you closer and closer, each time his dick hits that spot inside you, and his thumb brushes over your clit. He catches your breast in his mouth, sucking on your nipple, adding to the stimulation.

Overwhelmed by the sensations you bury your hand in his hair, pulling on it as arousal clashes through your veins, the telltale throbbing between your thighs intensifying. Patrick groans under you and you feel his thighs quivering as well as his thrusts getting sloppy, losing their piercing rhythm. Every thought on your mind is now occupied by the sensation of being filled again and again by Patrick’s hard, thick cock that scrapes the walls of your cunt just perfectly as well as the sound of your hips slapping together.

“Come for me, on my cock,” he grinds out and brings his hand down on your ass hard, rubbing the pinked skin afterwards.

The combined sensation of the pain and the pleasure Patrick is providing you steers you higher and higher until you heed his words and come apart.

Fire crashes through your veins, burning you from the inside as the sensations flow through you. Everything feels more heightened for a moment, his cock, his fingers, his body - just all that is him surrounds you and lifts you up.

You dig your fingers into his neck, half-frantic as you anchor yourself to him while the waves of your orgasm wash over you.

You dully note how you clench around him, making him groan loudly under you as he continues to keep you on your high.

After a few sloppy, hard thrusts you feel his cock pulsing inside you when Patrick comes with hoarse a mumble of your name on his lips, filling you with his cum. He presses his hips flush against you, grinding into you as he releases as deep as possible, letting his eyes fall closed, his long lashes resting on his cheekbones.

As soon as he stills, you slump against him, fitting your forehead against his, closing your eyes. Just breathing and coming down from your high.

Patrick’s warm hand cradles your cheek, coaxing you to open your eyes.

“Hi,” the word comes out as a whisper.

“Hi,” he echoes, his words carrying a soft smile as he leans in. His lips meet yours in a sweet, unhurried kiss that seems to suspend time for a fleeting moment.

As the kiss concludes, you take in the sight of him and he looks just as spent as you feel. His disheveled hair bears the evidence of your fingers running through it, the neatly combed curls now messy. A glistening layer of sweat highlights his features in the bathroom’s subdued light. But Patrick's eyes remain bright and alive, their soft shade of blue reminiscent of the calming sea. A radiant and genuine smile is etched onto his face as he looks at you.

You stand up with shaky legs and his cock slips out of you, leaving you empty. You feel his cum oozing out of your cunt and reach for some toilet paper to clean yourself up.

“Don’t bother,” Patrick says, catching your wrist and blocking you from grabbing the paper. You give him a confused look but he simply gathers your combined fluids on his fingers and pushes them back inside you, “We’re not finished yet and I want you to feel what I have done to you. I want you to think of me - of the mess I’ve made”

You can’t suppress a moan at the combination of his words and his thick fingers thrusting inside your overstimulated, used cunt a few times.

He pulls his fingers out and hooks them into your underwear to put them on you properly again.

“I want you to feel me with every step today, to feel my cum coat you,” Patrick’s blue eyes are intense on you, making you understand the meaning behind his words as he stands up, “If you are good I’ll fill you up again later, sweetheart.”

He bows down to grab your pants, pulls them up, and closes them. The intimate gesture causes heat to bloom on your cheeks, it is rather sweet that he helps you dress again so you want to return to favor.

With that he kisses you again, devouring you hungrily. You can’t help but respond and wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer so he engulfs you completely.

You separate breathlessly and he tightens his arms around you to press a kiss on your hair before losing his hold and stepping back.

Without a word you sink down to your knees again and grab his cock, causing him to hiss and look at you. It transforms into a low groan when you wrap your mouth around him, tasting the combination of both your releases.

“Fuck,” Patrick curses roughly, one hand tangling into your hair as you swirl your tongue around him to clean him.

You release him from your mouth when you’re satisfied and tuck him back into his underwear before pulling up his pants. As soon as you stand again, he pulls you in for another short, deep kiss.

Patrick breaks the kiss and reaches for your bra and shirt, handing it to you before grabbing his sweater. You clasp your bra and pull the shirt over your head as does he.

Part of you is sad that he is dressed again, you quite enjoyed seeing him shirtless but you can’t deny that he looks delicious in that damn wool sweater.

Patrick leans in for another sweet kiss, his lips pressing gently against yours. His palm cradles your cheek, and the rhythmic strokes of his thumb create a soothing caress, a silent reassurance that lingers in the air.

As he cautiously opens the cabin door, his eyes sweep the interior, ensuring that the coast is clear before giving you a wink and stepping out. The dim light of the bathroom casts a warm glow on his features, and you can't help but notice the subtle sparkle in his bright blue eyes.

With deliberate care, Patrick fixes his disheveled hair in the mirror, raking his fingers through it to comb it back again. Mesmerized, you watch as he restores his hair to its previous order, each stroke a deliberate motion that reminds you of how capable his stronger fingers are and you clench your thighs, feeling the sticky residue of his cum.

You gather your messy hair into a ponytail, not being able to do more with it or detangle it properly since you don’t have a brush with you. In the light of the bathroom you see the purple marks on your neck and let your finger run over it deliberately.

Taking stock of your appearance, you gather your messy hair into a makeshift ponytail, unable to do much more without a brush to detangle it properly. In the soft light of the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of purple marks on your neck and let your fingers deliberately trace over them.

Feeling Patrick’s gaze on you, you ask, “Proud of yourself?” Pulling down the neckline of your shirt to inspect your collarbones and upper chest, you openly display the marks left by him.

Patrick grins in response, wide and toothy, and his eyes twinkle mischievously, “I’d say that I’m sorry, but I think we’re pretty much even.”

He playfully rolls down the top of his turtleneck to reveal the little indents your teeth left on the juncture of his neck.

“You can be glad you don't wear a t-shirt under your sweater because I’d have stolen the sweater,” you muse, prompting a melodic laugh from Patrick and you find that you quite like it, “But I think I have a scarf in my office.”

“Well then, shall we?” Patrick gestures toward the bathroom door leading to the hallway. He opens it and guides you out with a reassuring hand at the small of your back.

#i can take him (not in a fight)#patrick wilson x reader #patrick wilson smut #the conjuring #insidious #aquaman #jesus come get me #this is filthy #ed warren #fanfiction #smut #the conjuring fanfiction #patrick wilson #orm marius

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cheynovak · 6 months

Text

Tale as old as time

Reader x Soldier Boy

Warnings: Well, it’s soldier boy. Where to start... Smut, Fluff, Drugs, Cursing, Voilence, ...

Side note: English isn’t my first language.

Words: 6003 😮

POV: Y/N is Soldier Boys first girlfriend who turned into a supe not long after Soldier boy with compound V. Vought made her out to be his enemy, so he had no choice but killing her. But years later the boys discover she is still alive and maybe the only supe on this planet to take down Soldier boy and homelander.

Side note: Cursive text are memories

Have fun!

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Pennsylvania: 1939

“Y/N? Y/N! Where are you going? Wait up!” Ben yelled at her trying to follow her but the crowd in at the fair made it difficult. Y/N ran towards the Ferris wheel, she looked back but didn’t see Ben following. “Got you!” He said while lifting her up turning around. ”BEN!” she screeched laughing. When he got her steady on the ground, she lifted her hands towards his neck kissing him on his cheek. “I need to go.” Ben said. “Can’t we at least have one last ride in the wheel?” She asked with big deer eyes. Defeated by her charm he nodded.

“Do you really have to go?” She asked with a soft voice. “It’s the only way to make my old man proud, sweetheart.” he said pulling her in his arms. “I don’t think this is the answer Ben, you could get hurt, or worse!” She really is worried about him he thought. “What? Afraid I find a new best girl?” He joked trying to lift the mood. She poked his ribs “Not funny! I serious Benjamin!” The wheel stopped and the two young love bird got out. As a true gentleman Ben brought Y/N home. They shared a kiss, the last one for a long time Ben thought. “Ben?” She looked up is his green eyes asking to follow her so she took his hand and leaded him behind the house towards the shed where her parents couldn’t see them. “You know I'm yours, right?” He nodded. “Will you make yours tonight?” She asked clearly looking shy. Ben’s eyes grew big. “Are, are you sure?” He asked. She kissed him passionately in response. “Just, just take it slow, ok?”

Y/N woke up startled, looking over at Patrick, her fiancé. Who was still deep asleep. So, she quietly got out of bed and got to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. Why the hell did that memory sneaked up in her dreams. Probably the nerves for the wedding she thought. No one has seen Ben in ages, he is probably gone or much like herself had found love and settled down. But she couldn’t help herself got to the spare bedroom and pull up the old shoe box with pictures and other memories. There was one picture of Ben, fully dressed in his “Soldier boy” costume. God, she hated that helmet, made it impossible to see those cute freckles. After looking at his eyes for who knows how long she got herself back in bed. Lifting Patrick’s arm and hugging him. He mumbled something unrecognisable and pulled her closer.

The next morning Y/N was extremely tired, she didn’t get any sleep anymore last night. “Good morning beautiful.” Patrick kissed her on her cheek as he did every morning. They had breakfast, he kissed her before he got to work. Patrick was a lawyer he made enough money to take care for the two of them. So, when they officially began dating, he asked Y/N to be a housewife. He meant well, he knew her backstory and thought she deserved some peace. She agreed, but after last night she had this hinge that maybe she wasn’t born to be a housewife.

But the dream couldn’t stop the daily tasks. Y/N grabbed her purse and drove to the grocery store. When she came back, she noticed someone was inside her house. She quickly grabbed the gun from the glove box and went inside the house via the back door. Her house was a mess, cabinets open, shelfs empty... One of the skinnier men came down. “Oh god! Oh god. Please don’t shoot! BUTCHER, she is home!” He yelled before Y/N knock him out with the gun. The other two man came running down both holding a gun. “Listen I don’t know what you two idiots think you’re doing, but you picked the wrong house buddy!” Y/N said. “Now drop the gun!”

“Oi, were not looking for any trouble princess.” He said lowering his gun.” Or should I say Ms. Y/N Frances Wilson.” He smirked saying your name, your true birth name, you haven’t heard in years. “How do you...know?” she looked shocked. Butcher and MM started to explain they were looking for something to kill Homelander and possibly Soldier Boy. And that Annie found secret records at Vought that stated that you were the only person who ever won a fight against Soldier boy.

“Wait, wait you’re telling me Ben is still alive?” You looked at Hughie since he was the only person in the room you seemed to trust a little. “Oh, we’re on first name basis?” The annoying British fella said. Y/N gave him a dead stare side eye. “Listen buddy, if you have my records, you know that “Soldier boy” and I go way back. Y/n said pissed.

“Oh my god! What happened here! Y/N are you ok?” Patrick walked through the door. “Who are you?!” he looked over at the men. “Honey, it’s ok these are... who are you again?”

Hughie explained everything to Patrick who looked at him with fear in his eyes. “Baby, If these supes really are that dangerous, we need to help them.” “Pat, I promised you I would never, ever enter that life again.” She looked at MM “I will tell you all I know on Soldier boy. But that’s it. I’m no supe anymore” - “Well, that’s just utter bull shit isn’t. The 1st badge of fucking Russian compound V is running through your veins.” Butcher said. “No, no, no, you are coming with us princess. If we know where to find you so will Homelander.” “Let him come, I doubt that, that clown in a cape is much worth.”

“Against you, maybe.” MM said. “But what with Patrick?” With a heavy heart you agreed to go with the boys. In the car her thoughts drifted away.

WW2 ended, Ben was coming home, the town made sure he would get a parade. Y/N was nervous it had been a few years. Sure, he did send her letters every now and then, but as time moved on, she received less and less until the communication stopped completely. In one of the first letters, he had sent a picture of him fitting his costume. He looked proud, with a great smile. It had her fall in love all over again. Y/N stood at the back of the sidewalk, watched as Ben drove by waving at the people. He saw her, she knew, he grinned but made sure the other people there wouldn’t notice. Y/N went home after the parade, while she was painting her nails her mom called her. “Sweetheart, get dressed, Benjamin called, he is picking you up for dinner with his folks.” Your heart pounded, he didn’t forget you. You mother thought you were a madwoman not to date nice decent men while he was gone. She wanted her daughter to get married and start a family, like any other parent wanted in those times. And not to wait on a “superhero” who once liked her daughter, who now probably could have any woman.

Y/N chose a beautiful green dress that matched her curves, it was fitting but not tacky, her nails were boudoir red as were her lips and heels. Perfect contrast with her dress. The doorbell rang. Her father answered the door before she could came down the stairs. Ben was still wearing his costume, probably to impress your folks but thank God, he didn’t wear the helmet. He watched you come down the stairs. “Wow.” he said “breathtaking.” clearly impressed. He held your hand and helped you with the last steps. He kissed you soft on the lips. You were a little stunned by that move, because this was something he would have never done before he got to the army. Your parents were old school he knew that.

You got into the car, surprisingly he had a driver now. “My lady.” he said holding the door. At first the ride was silent. You stared at him. “Like what you’re seeing, sweetheart?” he grinned looking you up and down, it made you blush. “It’s just, you have changed so much and yet you haven’t.” “So have you.” The dinner wasn’t really a cosy gathering, Ben told his parents and you every detail. His dad wasn’t impressed with what his son had achieved.” You took a short cut. There were normal man fighting, those are hero’s not some pumped up boy who hasn’t achieved anything in this life.”

You could see Ben’s lip twitch. “Ben? I think it’s time for me to go home.” Y/N said to help him get out of the house. Once outside “Unbelievable, I did everything I could for that man and I’m still not good enough.” He kept rambling. “Ben, STOP!” He looked at you. “Stop with caring what your father thinks of you.” you said while taking his hand. “He doesn’t know you, not the way I do.”

“Hi, soldier boy.” Two girls giggled from a crossed the street waving at him. Ben answered their flirtations with an over-the-top grin and nod while he checked them out just a little to long for your liking. He turned back to you and saw your expression. “He kissed your cheek, don’t worry sweetheart you’re the one for me.” The car ride was silent once again you almost reach your parents house. “Can you pull over, right here? And give us a minute?” You asked the driver.

Ben looked at you, the second the driver got out of the car did Ben pull you closer to him and kissed you. Not a soft kiss, no, a passioned kiss his tongue aggressively asking for permission. His hands travelling from your neck over your breast kneading them. “Ben, is this really the best place?” Y/N asked while pulling back. Ben didn’t move back but moved his lips from your mouth to your neck. “You have a better idea sweetheart, was the shed a better place?” He asked out of breath, clearly aroused. You didn’t feel comfortable with his roughness. “Ben stop, please.” - “Oh, come on baby, don’t tell me you’ve didn’t dream of me. That you didn’t think of that night while you touch yourself.”

That was the line he crossed. “BENJAMIN STOP IT! Get off me! You yelled while slapping his face. Y/N got out of the car Ben shorty following her. “Y/N... Y/N! Stop I’m sorry.” he grabbed her arm. “Look at me sweetheart.” You turned around with tears in your eyes. “Oh baby, I'm sorry, it just, I just, it’s been a while.” You look at him shocked by his words. “You’ve changed Ben. You’re a brute. Maybe if you, I don’t know at least had a normal conversation with me before you started groping me.” - “What I, can’t touch my own girl?” - “Of course, you can, it’s the way you do it Ben, any other man...” But he didn’t let you finish. “Other man? Is there another man Y/N? Did you get the tasted of it after I left. Did you turn to someone else for pleasure.”

“I can’t believe you! I wanted to say: any other man would at least consider HER feelings.” He dropped his head understanding what she meant. “Goodnight Ben.” She said leaving him in the street. The next day he had to leave for another parade in a different city but not before he went to see Y/N.

Y/N’s dad answers the door “She doesn’t want to see you kid.” You hear him say. “Please Sir, I need to speak to her.” Ben sounded devastated. “Y/N! I know you’re here. Y/N I’m sorry! Please come talk to me.” - “Boy you are testing my patients, go away, I don’t know what happened last night, but she doesn't want to see you. - “Bullshit!” You heard Ben’s voice turn into anger. He pushed your old man aside an ran up the stairs. Y/N met him halfway standing taller than him. “Baby, please.” He said while hugging you, his head against your stomach. “I want you to go Ben.” Y/N said between her tears. “I don’t know what they did to you, but you are not the same man anymore. I want you to leave.”

‘Y/N no, you don’t mean it. Y/N please!

Y/N .... Y/N....’

Y/N!!!! Butchers voice leaps you out of the memory. “We’re here” Hughie smiled softy seemingly scared. Y/N didn’t know what it was but this kid, she liked him. He had something pure in his eyes. Once inside Y/N and Patrick meet the other members. They all seemed on edge.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” That voice... you slowly turned around. Ben was standing there in baseball shirt and sweatpants “Oh, god!” But before you could say more, he stormed towards you lifting you up by your neck. “I’ll ask again, what, is she, doing here?” Y/N wanted to answer but couldn’t without air. Ben looked for a second at Patrick, clearly not impressed by him. Y/N kicked Ben to his knee he let her go. But not without trying to hitting her. She luckily could avoid it and pushed him away. “I had no idea you would be here!” She said lifting her hands in the air. “You are the fucking commie that made me a lab rat!” - “Ben that’s not true! I tried to fucking save you from your so-called girlfriend!” - “Bullshit you helped them!”

“She is telling the truth, according to Voughts records did Noir and Countess quit the number on her. They left her a massive scar on her back. Before they shipped her back of to Russia, where you were held, a cargo she escaped.” Hughie said.

“It’s true Ben, when I heard what they did to you in '84, I tried to find you, I swear!” He got closer, grabbing her neck looking intensely at her. But Y/N pulled back looking over at Patrick. Ben followed her eyes. “Who is he?” - “My fiancé. Patrick”

“Your Fian...” He couldn’t finish that sentence. ”Why? Did he got you pregnant?” He laughs looking at you. Even though he meant is a joke he glanced at your tummy. “No Ben, we love each other. Besides you know supes don’t have the best track record on getting pregnant.” You said walking over to Patrick. “No, but we sure loved to try.” He winked at you making Patrick uncomfortable.

Butcher, MM and Annie were going through your files. Annie glanced over at Y/N and asked “Hey, it stated here you weren’t a supe until after 1949? But they never clarified what happened.

Y/N was walking to her job, when a van pulled over. Two men who didn’t spoke English pulled her in. A week later she woke up in some sort of a hospital. Couple of needles in her arms. The man said in broken English that this might hurt, but that she would become the most powerful humans on the planet, the perfect weapon. And who else can hurt Soldier boy better than his first love.

Y/N tolt the team what tests they did after they pumped her full of compound V. “Or at least the Russian version of it.” She said. “After that...” She fell silent.

“After that they erased her memories. Trained her to be a fucking assassin. And sent her after me.” Ben said quietly from a crossed the room not even looking up from the tv.

“He is right. I trailed him all crossed the country to kill him. And I remember every second of it. I just couldn’t stop myself.”

Ben woke up in a fancy hotel room, he looked over his bed, smirking when he realised there were still 3 women in his bed from last night. He got up, put on a rope, snored a line and drank the rest of the whiskey he had last night. He heard a noise coming from the hallway. Before he could take a look, the door broke down. An assassin dressed in black attack him. The women screamed when Ben was holding the intruder against the wall. “Run you fucking stupid sluts!” He yelled at them before they ran away behind Ben. “Now who are you?” Ben took of the intruder's mask. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “Y/N???” That moment of hesitation was enough for her to escape his hands.

After more than an hour going back and forward, Ben hit her she felt out of the window 5 floors down. He looked but she didn’t move. Every now and then their pads crossed. They fight no one wins, one of them got hurt and they would meet again. It became an obsession with finding each other. Vought even named her a super villain. Until one day Y/N had found him again on vacation in Rome. Ben got tired of the constant fighting he wanted answers. He had her tied down and tried to find answers. But no matter what she didn’t talk. He got so frustrated he hit her in de head with his shield. She went unconscious but when she woke up. Ben was still sitting in front of her. “Ben? Oh god Ben!” she started to cry.

Ben had hit her so hard so many times that for some reason the trauma had brought her back. At first he didn’t trust her. But after a while he released her. She told him everything that happened to her. “You should go. Celebrate new year” he said. “N-New year?” she looked shocked. “Sweetheart it’s 31 December.” - “What year?” - “1959”

“Ten years...” she mumbled under her breath. “You have a place to go?” - “No, not really.” He nodded. Ben thought for a second then invited you to his party.

Ben knuckled when thinking back at that night.

It was an over-the-top party with world leaders, porn stars and drugs. Old Y/N would have been traumatized, supe you well, let’s say that this was a new beginning. Ben sat on the sofa with 2 girls almost fighting to get on his lap and he clearly enjoyed the attention, until he sees Y/N flirting with a guest. He was clearly trying to get into her pants. And she didn’t seem to mind. This got Ben furious, he got up without saying anything to the girls and walked towards them. You both looked at him. “Out” He said. “Out... EVERYBODY GET THE FUCK OUT!” Y/N tried to walk away with the crowd.

Ben grabbed Y/N's arm. “Oh, not you sweetheart.” Y/N looked at his hand around her arm and got closer. “What’s the problem Ben? Are you the only one who is allowed fuck on this evening?”

“Baby... where did you learn to talk like that!” He grinned “But no, no you are allowed to get fucked as well sweetheart. If I’m the one doing it.”

For some reason that made Y/N’s panties soaking wet. She pushed Ben against the wall ripping his shirt in the process. His hand found their way to the back of her knees lifting her up throwing her on the bed. Y/N took off her dress, showing the red lingerie, slowly moving her hands all over her body before moving one hand down her panties, while sitting on her knees. Ben walked towards her pumping his hard cock,

“Fuck that’s hot sweetheart. Show me how wet you are.” She lifted her fingers in the air. Ben grabbed her wrist slowly licking her fingers clean. “Hm, so sweet.” He pushed he on her back taking of her panties. “I’ve missed this pussy, I’ve been wanting to fuck it, worship it ever since I came back from the war.” Y/N got inpatient. “Jesus fucking Christ, Ben are you going to talk me to sleep or are you going to fuck me?

Ben licked a long stripe against Y/N heated sex. ‘Oh yesss!” She moaned letting her head fall back. Ben ate her like a man starved, then he entered a finger into her cunt, he could feel her enjoying it by the way she squeezed around it. “Fuck sweetheart, how long has it been since someone took care of you?” - Y/N had trouble finding words she could already feel the heat in her boiling. “Huh? Tell me, did you find a man back home? Someone to fuck you when your needy? Or did you take care of yourself?” Ben added another finger while licking your clit. You came so hard on his fingers that the wet sound of him going in and out of you would have normally made you embarrassed. After she screamed his name like a prayer she admitted. “Ben, there was no one. No one but you!” She said a little ashamed knowing he probably fucked half of USA by now. “You really are my girl...” Ben said while kissing her. Letting her take a breath before round 2, 3, 4 and 5 of that night.

“Great fucking night.” He said looking at Y/N and Starlight grinning.

“Why did he say that you were the reason for... you know.” Hughie asked. “Well, in 1970 was payback created. Up until then Ben and I lived together." “Wait, you never told me this.” Patrick said. “I knew he was your first boyfriend and that you fought in the 50s. Why didn’t you tell me? “ Y/N opened her mouth, but Ben was first. “Probably because she didn’t like to tell that after a decade of fighting came a decade of making up... sex.” Patrick closed his eyes, clearly disgusted by soldier boy.

“As I was saying, 70s, payback, crimson countess.” You say irritated looking at Ben. “Those days, they made it hard on us. Vought didn’t like the idea of the number one hero being in a relationship with the person they called the number one villain. So, we had to keep our relationship a secret. Vought though it would be a great idea to promote Countess and Soldier boy as the it couple. Ben agreed, saying it was all just publicity. “ Ben, looked away. Y/N felt silent. “So, he cheated? “ Hughie asked.

“NEVER! Ben got up this time, I never ever cheated, not on her!” He almost stood toe to toe with him. “Ben... Benjamin!” Y/N yelled standing up trying to defend Hughie who almost shit his pants. Ben looked at Y/N “I swear.” - “I know, but Crimson and Vought did find a way to separate us. They made false evidence that I would be recruited again by Russian spies to bring down Vought. "

I had no idea so when I asked Ben to let go of the suit.” - “He thought you wanted him to be on your side as a communist.” Annie finished your story. “Yes” Y/N said looking at Ben. “All I wanted was a normal life, no more fighting, no more Vought. The life I dreamed of since 1939” - “Well, seems like you finally get what you want sweetheart.” Ben said looking defeated.

“Well, that’s enough bedtime stories, we need to go and get some supply's before hunting down your boysband.” Butcher said grinning at Ben. “Y/N you mind watching Ben for me? Since you are the only one who probably would actually stop him is he wanted to leave.” - “What about the rest of you?” Y/N asked meaning what about Patrick. “I need everyone, some things I can’t buy in a normal store because I'm wanted. Patrick is a nobody, perfect for the job.”

In the car MM gave Patrick a phone. “I don’t know if you want it. But Frenchie and I placed a shitload of cameras in that place.

Everyone left to do their job. Ben was sitting again, in front of the tv. But when Y/n got up to get something out of the kitchen he followed her. “Does he make you happy?” - “What?” - “Patrick, does he make you happy.” He asked again only this time standing so close to you, you could feel his breath against your neck. Y/N closed her eyes. “Yes, I guess so. I have the life I wanted.” She turned to face him locking eyes “I said yes, I'm getting married soon.” Ben breathed heavy while looking at her. He lifted a hand on her neck again, sliding his fingers through her hair toughing his forehead with hers.

“God, Y/N please don’t.” Patrick said waiting in the car, looking at the camera footage.

“Ben, please... don’t.” She closed her eyes afraid to look in his. “I learned my lesson sweetheart. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to.” He sighted but didn’t move back. “Does he satisfy you?”

“BEN! That, that is none of your business!” She angry opened her eyes looking in his. She placed a hand on his chest to push him away, but couldn’t, instead she slowly moved her hand up to his cheek. Ben leaned into it. “I’ve missed those soft hands.”

Y/N smiled slightly. “This beard, it suits you.” - “You like it?” he was surprised. “Very mature. Maybe even a little sexy.” Those worlds made Ben crazy. He lifted you up and placed you on the counter making him stand between your legs, kissing you like a madman, his hands all over Y/N, touching Y/N’s breast making her pull back out of the kiss and moan his name.

Patrick didn’t want to watch anymore but couldn’t close it. He kept hoping Y/N would fight back. Tell Soldier boy that she loved him, that he had to let her go. Instead, he watched the two of them heading for the bedroom. “No no no no noooo.” Patrick switched camera. Thank got that MM placed one in Soldier boy’s room. “You can still say no baby.” Patrick said under his breath.

“Fuck, say it again.” Ben said. “I want you, Ben” Y/N moaned while he was sucking her neck and ear. Ben lifted her up and took her to his room closing the door with his foot. He dropped Y/N onto the bed. “Clothes off!” He commanded “I would love to spend the next 48 hours just making love to you, reclaiming your body.” He said. “Ben we don’t have time for that.” Y/N said while pulling his sweatpants and boxers down. She placed herself on the bed. Pulling of her panties while Ben was still looking at her. Y/N opened her legs. “Are you going to stand there watching me pleasuring myself, or are you going to make me scream your name?” Y/N didn’t have to say that twice.

Ben took his cock in his hands and started to push himself inside her. “Fuck! Your still so tight.” He said while being balls deep in her. He started to trust slow but deep and hard. Y/N lifted her legs over his shoulders so he could go even deeper. “Oh Ben! I forgot how big you were!” Y/N could feel that Ben with every trust hit the G spot inside her. “You were made for me sweetheart, your pussy was made for me to fuck.” Ben felt that he wouldn’t last long if he kept going like this. “Turn around baby. All four.” He said while pulling out of her. He harshly trusted back in her making her moan almost screaming his name. “That’s it baby, say my name.” He said while rubbing her clit. “Oh Ben, ... Don’t stop!” She moaned. Y/N could feel her orgasm building and so could Ben by the way she squeezed him.

“Does he fuck you like this? Does he know how to make you scream his name? By the tightness of you pussy I would say you didn’t get fucked properly in a while.” Y/N loved the way Ben talked dirty. “Maybe we should invite him, let him see how a real man fucks his lady.” Y/N’s pussy tightened. “Oh, you like that huh. You want him to see how I fuck you, how I know every little inch of your body.” Y/N couldn’t hold it anymore and started to shake into her orgasm screaming Ben’s name. It didn’t take long before Ben’s trusts started to get sloppy. Y/N turned around and took his cock in her mouth bobbing her head, touching the tip of his cock with her tongue just the way he liked it. Ben leaned back holding her hair while releasing in her mouth.

Patrick couldn’t believe what he had seen. He tried to find a way to make things better. It was pure sexual, yes that’s it. She doesn’t love him, she, they fucked it wasn’t making love. He tried to convince himself.

Y/N laid back down on the bed. Ben did the same thing “Fuck that felt good.” He said looking at her on his side with his head in his hand. “Come here.” Ben said while pulling her in his arms Y/N’s head was locket under his chin and against his chest. Ben started to stroke his fingertips over her arms, up her back coming back to the front over her breast, holding one in his warm hand. “So fucking beautiful.” He whispered.

It was quiet for a moment, now that Y/N was back to her senses she could only think of Patrick, what did she do to him. Patrick was a nice respectable man, he didn’t deserve this. But being here in Ben’s arms felt so right, so safe like coming home.

“Leave him.” Ben said after a while to break the silence. “What?” Y/N got up looking shocked at him. “Leave him, run away with me.” He said with a straight face. “Ben you, no, I can’t. I’m getting married soon.” Y/N said but not with confidence. Ben got up and sat against the headboard of the bed. “Why? Because he gives you a home? A house with a white picket fence?” He asked while pulling Y/N into his lap, her knees on each side of his thighs. His lip started to slowly kiss the top of her breast before laying his head against her. His hands steady on her back.

Ben could now feel her scars for the first time his fingers moved over them. “I should have never left you.” He whispered. “Well, I'm sure countess would have found a way.” Y/N said while her lips and cheek were touching his hair. “No, back in 1939, I should have married you, I should have been the man you wanted, deserved. Instead of joining the army.”

He moved his head to look up at her. “I should have married you, made love to you every night until you were pregnant. Watch our kids grow up. Dance with you in the kitchen. Hell I would even take you to fucking Elvis Presley concerts if that is what you wanted.” That made Y/N laugh but tear up at the same time. “Ben...” Y/N sighted. He kissed her lips again only now he took his time. This kiss was one to make sure she felt loved. Ben pulled her closer, Y/N’s hands on the back of Ben’s head.

Y/N felt Ben's cock getting half hard again. Both of them started to move their bodies in sync without even knowing. Ben pulled sightly back. “Y/N, I’ll give up the suit, I’ll won’t kill payback, I’ll even stop the booze and drugs. I’ll do anything for you as long as you promise you're mine again.” Y/N looked at his face, looked in his green eyes. “I’ve always been yours Ben.”

MM got back in the car “Man, are you ok?” He looked at Patrick holding the phone. He rewind the last part and showed MM before the rest of the crew came back. “Y/N, I’ll give up the suit, I’ll won’t kill payback, I’ll even stop the booze and drugs. I’ll do anything for you as long as you promise you're mine again.” - “I’ve always been yours Ben.”

“Shit, I'm sorry man.” MM said Patrick didn’t react. Butcher and the rest came back and drove back to the house.

Y/N took a quick shower, Ben was walking around in the room putting on his sweatpants while all of the sudden he saw a little black dot on the top corner of the dresser. “Son of a...” He pulled it out. “A fucking camera.” Without saying anything to Y/N he walked around the house and found 3 more cameras. Ben stood in the kitchen when Butcher, MM, Hughie and Patrick walked in. “YOU ENGLISH FUCKER!” Ben yelled. This made Y/N suspicious, so she quickly got out of the shower and then heard a rumble. When she got dressed, she ran towards the sound. The kitchen table was upside down on the other end of the room. Ben held MM against the wall. “What the hell is going on?” Y/N asked.

“These fuckers thought it would be a great idea to record me, and everything I do in this house.” Ben said pissed not looking at her. “Ben let go of him.” He didn’t respond. Y/N touched Ben’s shoulder. “Ben, please let go of him.”

Butcher and Hughie looked at each other not knowing what was going on. “Oi, can someone explain what the fuck is going on. A bloody hour ago you” he pointed at Ben “Wanted to fucking kill her. And know she is taming you? And you two ” He pointed at MM and Frenchie “thought it would be good idea to spy on the oldest fucking supe out there, you‘re really that horny and pathetic you want to see him fuck grannies...” While Butcher said that Hughie got the bigger picture. “He didn’t sleep with grannies...” - “Y/N” Patrick finished Hughie's sentence, tearing up. “But then again, you were always his, weren’t you?”

Y/N started to cry “Patrick, I-I'm sorry.” - “It’s ok, I get it, you wanted a house, a husband, a family but not with me, not really. So, I’m going home, I'm going to box up everything you own. And when you are ready, you can come pick it up.” Y/N stood there watching him walking through the door.

“So on with the plan ay. How to kill Homelander.” Butcher broke the awkward silence. “No” Ben said walking up to Y/N holding her. “I’m done.” - “No, you’re not.” Y/N said “I still want payback on payback. But Homelander is your problem, Butcher.”

1 year later.

Y/N stood at the kitchen counter making breakfast. *Can’t help falling in love* playing in the background. Ben wrapped his arms around her waist. His head on her shoulder swaying left to right. Y/N turned around kissing him. And when she looked in his eyes, she could see the sparkle she hasn’t seen since that day at the fair. Ben, he smiled softly at her. And for the first time in God knows how long, she finally saw a glimpse of the young man she fell in love with. Knowing even though they are both fucked up, they belong together. “Look, we’re dancing. To fucking Presley, Sinatra I would get, but Elvis, why?” He said with a disgusted look on his face. Y/N laughed “Amazing voice, great hips!” She said biting her lip, knowing he wouldn’t like that answer. “Oh, I'll show you great hips.” Ben said lifting her up on the kitchen table. Y/N giggled like a teenager. “I love you.” Ben said looking in her eyes.

“I love you too.”

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

#the boys #billy butcher #soldier boy #the boys hughie #homelander #the boys spoilers #the boys amazon #soldier boy x reader #smut #fluff #fem reader #x reader #female reader

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yandereunsolved · 3 months

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Dissect Me, Doctor - ,, yandere JPM with a psychologist reader

cw(s): yandere themes, dismemberment, suggestive themes, (James) necrophilia, noncon touching, cannibalism, mention of reader having breakdowns & panic attacks

✧ James found you by God's hand one fateful day. You could say it was more than a mere coincidence, eh? He had just finished killing one of the hotel guests. He was about to call Miss Evers in to clean up the mess when he spotted something sticking out of the dead gentleman's breast pocket. He plucked the card out of your pocket and read it allowed, 'Doctor...' His curiosity was the least bit piqued. Psychologists weren't exactly popular in the 1930s. The true study of the mind hadn't emerged, but James had always lived to study humans. To study their fight or flight instinct, how their bodies react to various torture methods, and how fear affects the human psyche. Perhaps he has found someone who shares his fondness for such things. It would be a great way to meet someone new. Considering Elizabeth refuses to speak with him, he has grown desperate. Not even defiling his killings tapered his already suppressed desires.

✧ He got Sally to teach him how to use this magic witch named 'Wi-fi' who owns the internet—or something like that. Most new technology is just rubbish used to get people to make inauthentic connections. Although perhaps just this once, it can be used for the betterment of his temperament. He has Sally schedule an initial appointment at the hotel. Sally uses the excuse that James is bedridden and terribly ill (non-contagious), but he hates telehealth and just wants someone to talk to in person. You were skeptical because of the rumors surrounding The Cortez, but you were in desperate need of another client, and he was willing to pay extra—a lot extra.

✧ You had your first session in his room, and you immediately got strange vibes from him. He wasn't ill, that was for sure. Perhaps he was a little pale, but he probably hasn't gotten enough sun or vitamin D lately. He was even smoking! He was sitting all relaxed on a couch, dressed up in 1930s-esque attire, with a cane leaning against his lap. He introduced himself as James Patrick March, and you immediately understood why you were called. He either has a personality disorder or is a compulsive liar. Perhaps both. You asked him simple questions, such as his real name and when he was born. You were only getting nonsensical answers. He could not have been born in the late 1800's or early 1900's; that is ridiculous!

James only felt himself grow hotter with each question you asked. It was like a fire had been lit beneath his skin, and he needed to put it out. Then you asked the question that really got him going.

"Since you refuse to use your real name, I'll just call you Mr. March. How is your personal life going? Are you currently sexually active?"

"I have peculiar interests and refined tastes. How do you modern people phrase it? 'Where there is a hole there is a goal'?"

✧ With that astounded expression on your face, he feels his urges compell him to end this lovely conversation early. That look would look perfect on your dead corpse. He takes the sabre out of his cane and tries to slit your throat; he narrowly misses. Somehow, you unlock his room door and bolt through the hallways. How promising. He walks through the winding hallways slowly. You scramble to find the exit, and he struggles with not just outright chasing you through the maze. No, he must preserve the hunt. After what feels like an eternity to you—only eleven minutes in real time—you finally trip over a stair and hit your head on the railing. Talented fox. You nearly escaped to the lobby. You are too much of a challenge to let go so easily. He's going to keep you to get his release. In more ways than one.

✧ You wake up in the middle of the night in the same room as before. It's freezing, and your clothes are nowhere to be found. Your head is pounding, and you are barely able to breathe. James drugged you with some cocktail of drugs—some legal, most not. You feel blades ghosting your body. You feel them just barely slicing into your skin. It must be sleep paralysis, you rationalize. Something whispers sweet nothings into your ears. You are barely able to discern what those words are.

"You taste... a dream."

"Never leave."

"The best prey— never leave me."

✧ You drift off once again before groggily waking up in a different room. You are still in the Cortez, now in room seventy-four. You feel much different today, weighed down and yet free. You don't have any marks on you that would indicate you were harmed last night. You feel the need to escape, but you are also incredibly confused. A maid is in your room, setting down a new set of clothes. She explains that you passed out after you tripped on a stair while leaving the session early. You accuse her of helping the strange man you interviewed who tried to kill you. She chuckles and says that you aren't his type. Her voice has a little bit of spite in it. That was the moment that you were introduced to Miss Evers. Quite possibly the only person who simultaneously envies you for getting all of James attention and pities you for your lack of self-awareness and intelligence in the situation.

✧ Before you are even able to shoo her off this JPM impersonator comes in your room and greets you. You are naturally apprehensive. He is naturally enthralled to see that his trophy prey has awoken. He cannot wait to just see how you react today. You try to leave and he explains that you never finished your session. You accuse him now of trying to murder you. He brushes it off and insists that you at least have breakfast with him before you leave. You are about to answer firmly when Miss Evers folding of a towel loudly snaps together. This 'James' scolds her and she gives him a doe-eyed look. Before you are even able to say no he is ushering you down the hallway in silken pajamas someone put on you while you were passed. The thought makes you shudder.

✧ You both were served a hearty and delicious breakfast. It isn't very filling to you, no matter how much you eat. It must be how queasy you are from yesterday. If it happened. Perhaps you had a mental break due to all the stress you have been through lately. You don't get a lot of time to think because you are snapped from your thoughts. This James speaks about your future together and how you will have a long and fufilling relationship. He asks you to give him a psyche evaluation. When you say no, he subtly threatens you with the thought of not paying because you didn't actually fill his full session. You reluctantly agree.

✧ He's both incredibly frustrated and intrigued by your persistence. How many times must he explain to you that he isn't a 'cosplayer' or someone with a personality disorder. He is simply the great James Patrick March. No matter. It will make you even more fun to play with.

"Your delusions, doctor, are clouding your mind. So I suppose I will have to make you see the truth—one way or another."

He sets up small 'challenges' to see if you can pass them. He wants to test how long your mental fortitude will hold up.

✧ The first of those was dismembering himself in front of your very eyes. He does it multiple times, and they are all random. He will pluck his eye out and stir it in his tea. He will cut open his chest and stuff his organs into your suitcase. He will remove whatever is covering his neck and finger from his suicide wound. He asks if you would like to feel it, stroke it, touch it, or play with it.

"Doctor, I understand you only deal with the human mind, but would you like to feel this and assess if it is real? Do you believe me now?"

He will stab himself in the heart during one of your sessions and tell you that this is what you do to him. In the most extreme cases, if he isn't getting your coveted attention, he will take himself apart limb by limb and place them on your bed like a cross.

✧ You begin to come to terms with the fact that, at least, this man is psychotic. Perhaps not a ghost, but definitely a killer and wickedly sadistic. You try so many of the phones in the hotel, but so many seem not to work. You try to find your way out once again, but you seem to be trapped within these walls. Which comes to one of his many other tactics: trapping you in The Cortez's hallway maze. He is able to distort the minds of his guests and make sure that they never get out. Like a rat trying to find an escape from a box maze that has no exit. He enjoys just slowly walking behind you and taking in your panic and your quick breaths when your clothing rides up on you. He is able to take a respectful peek at what he will inevitably see time and time again.

✧ He keeps you trapped in the hotel. You never even have a chance to get to the lobby. He has a nice breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you. He has his daily sessions with you. Outside of that? His torture. All of his torture. All of it. He threatens you with it subtly if you do something that he is displeased with. He'll even lock you in that death closet of his and make you stand right near the spike. Sometimes you prefer to be in there because you can hide from him. He likes it when you hide in his death traps. So he totally leaves you alone and totally just doesn't sit right outside your ability to view him.

You are coming to the point where those times when he is cordial are the times you crave. All part of his plan, of course. Although—he hopes that you will keep up the chase, he likes that fiery spirit of yours.

✧ You often find him getting release from his dead victims. You know because your relentless cycle of agony and pleasure stops. At least he doesn't force himself on you when you are awake. You end up doing your best to stay as far away as possible from him during that time. Only you always end up stumbling into the same room as him. You avert your eyes, yet he always has something cheeky to say to you.

"Ngh—darling, darling, wait! This.... this could be us. This could be me. You and me. Nothing could be a replacement for how your flesh feels against mine."

He always turns around and gives you one of those godforsaken winks of his.

✧ That isn't the only time his victims come into play. You are always suspicious of the food he serves you. It's either drugged or the meat could be made from his victims. You first learned that the hard way. You were served meatloaf, and James called in manloaf. He stated that it was made in this very hotel by the very guest who was trying to help you leave. You wanted them so bad, you can have them—in your stomach.

✧ Not even the Countess is able to help. Not that she tries. She is too busy luring more men in. She's forgotten about James mostly, except for the betrayal. She gives you a few warnings and some caution when she can. You are almost like one of her children. Perhaps she would help you if you really were in need. Maybe.

✧ You still get those sensations in your sleep. The feeling of fingertips ghosting on your figure. How the sheets seem to slip off your body. A warm presence keeps you close throughout the night. It often manifests in such strange dreams. It feels like James's thoughts are being injected into your own mind. You dream of him against you—sometimes he is brutally murdering you, and in others he is sensually caressing you. He always seems to tease and taunt you with those tantalizing images in your mind.

✧ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ — You often have panic attacks and breakdowns because of him. Your heart rate quickens as sweat rolls down your body. Your legs shake and give in. The entire hotel seems to spin around you. You have to seek him out for your own comfort. It's so twisted and vile. You can feel bile rising in the back of your throat when it happens. You almost have to crawl on your hands and knees to reach him. Yet, it feels like heaven. His skin is so soft and supple. His suit is always made of the most comfortable materials. His body is always so cool to the touch. In those moments, your body melts into his. That is, until your mind stops its dissociation long enough to realize the trauma you were going through. You are falling for him—a classic case of Stockholm syndrome. You couldn't stand for this. You need to fight against this, against him.

✧ Unfortunately, your non-belief in ghosts stops when you see multiple people you thought were dead trying to warn you. You see your patient, who was killed in this very hotel. They tell you that they're so happy to see you. They are so happy you are here with them. You have to put on your therapist hat again and calm them down. It all clicks. Other people you thought were guests here were warning you. You are being oddly welcomed into the space. The others are cautious of your presence and afraid to upset the owner, the one who holds so much power over them. That strange being that seemed to flicker in and out of your peripheral occasionally. You finally make peace with the fact that James Patrick March is indeed a ghost. You really do need to escape here.

✧ You steal the hotel's shipping schedule for their toiletries and linens. You make a plan to escape. You think you are so clever, and it really makes James hot under his white buttoned collar. He lets you think that you are so much more astute than him. It makes him a little desperate, but he won't show it. He needs your touch so badly. He needs you to love him so badly. He needs you to be his little trophy victim. He needs you to help him chase his highs. He needs you. He needs you. He needs you. You, only you.

✧ He confesses his undying adoration for you and clings to your waist as you try to walk out. He sighs and tries one more tactic before you step out the door. He promises to tell you the entire truth. You are caught off guard by this, and your hand slips off the door. He leads you to his trophy room and shows you his 10 Commandment killings. He directs you to the corner, where your body lies. You are covered in wounds that have long since dried out. Your eyes are lifeless. You have his name etched across your naked chest. You scream, shout, and sob. James gently holds you and soothes you even as you thrash, kick, and gnaw at him.

"You've been trapped here the entire time. Since that night."

As if that makes it any better. You aren't that stupid. You could connect the dots—lack of appetite, coldness, the odd sensations, everything. You are stuck with this monster for all eternity.

"Hmm, yes! I saw you and just knew that I had to have you. Have you gotten my diagnosis yet, my love? It's lovesickness, and your body is the cure."

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⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @marchsfreakshow @girlyfart @nahoyasboyfriend

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

#american horror story #yandere #ahs #ahs hotel #yandere american horror story #yandere american horror story x reader #james patrick march #jpm #yandere jpm x reader #yandere james patrick march #yandere james patrick march x reader #yandere headcanons #ahs yandere headcanons #ahs headcanons #ahs fanfiction #jpm x reader #james patrick march x reader #headcanon

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the-possum-writes · 1 year

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Save a horse, ride a cowboy

❥Character: Patrick O'Hara (Web Slinger)

❥Fandom: Spiderverse

❥Tags: NSFW, gen!neutral reader, unspecified g*nitalia, PWP, sweetheart as a pet name

❥Synopsis: Imagine being new to the spider society and after meeting Web Slinger you're immediately smitten and whisper to yourself. "Uff, I wouldn't mind riding that cowboy to save a horse." And next thing you know he's got you cornered and say. "I heard you like saving horses."

❥A/n: I would've liked to write relationship hcs first but I would need to investigate more, so enjoy this P/with plot. 🤠

Never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined riding a spider horse beside a cowboy in a society of spider people, as if being bitten by a radioactive spider wasn't bizarre enough. The trip on his horse Widow is undoubtedly bumpy, but after talking with Web Slinger, he's been nothing but charismatic and charming, so when he offered you a ride, you were quick to accept, especially now that you're able to wrap your arms around this athletic build.

"First time riding a horse?" You tighten your grip on Web Slinger's strong midsection as his horse suddenly turns sharply to race on the underside of a staircase. If you played your cards well, your hands might "accidentally" slide a few times simply to run them over his abdomen.

"No, but in my world, horses don't exactly gallop across the ceilings." You cough and chuckle, trying not to look down as the blood rushes to your head from being upside down.

"It's just like any other horse. Though, you're going to have to grab on tighter for this part." even though his tone is stern, you get the impression he's smiling under his bandana as Widow dashed through plenty passageways. Web Slinger climbs off first and helps you down after noting how unsteady you are after the trip after a few dizzying jumps later Widow comes to a rest as you quickly reach at the location where you file for one of those multidimensional gadgets.

"How are you feeling, partner? Widow was just trying to show off; we don't typically provide joyrides." Widow neighs with a contented breath as Web Slinger apologizes.

"I'm fine; I just need a minute or two." Even though you feel as though the world is spinning, you can't really complain because you got to share body heat with this charming guy. Web Slinger may come off as stern and unwelcome at first, but he has been an absolute gentleman. He may make fun of you occasionally, but how can you be mad when it results in a hug?

"How about you take a breather while I fetch you some water, I won't take long!" and with that he pulls out one of his guns and web swings himself to the nearest vending machine.

Leaning against Widow, you take a moment to calm yourself down. You briefly close your eyes to gather your thoughts before Widow's mane hairs begin to tickle your nose. "Heh, you're really quite something, aren't ya girl? You stroke beneath her head and hear her let out a breath, "You're lucky to be his partner, I know I'd love to spend more time with him. Between you and me, I'd definitely ride that cowboy to save a horse," you chuckle softly to yourself, realizing how ridiculous you must look chatting raunchy topics with a horse. Web Slinger returns with a bottle of water, which he throws to you as you catch it with one hand, and you immediately stop talking.

He inquires, "Are you feeling any better?"

"Definitely, after talking to your buddy here, it helped." You lightly pat Widow's side.

"Oh? Is that true? Web Slinger briefly held Widow's head in his hands as if speaking to her, and from the sound of his voice and the way his eye mask moved, it appears like he is interested in what is being said. Which you hoped wasn't a thing.

You make a joke, "Yeah... she's very talkative."

He played along, saying, "Huh, good things about me I hope."

You didn't like the way his voice changed since it seemed like he was on to you, but you had no way of knowing, so you instantly changed the subject. "Anyway! I should get moving so Miguel doesn't come up and chastise me for not wearing a bracelet, hah! By the way, thanks a lot."

"No problem, you know how to reach me if you need help with anything else." As Widow begins a quick gallop, Web Slinger taps his bracelet and tilts his hat to say goodbye before you turn around and go your own ways. However, the manner he is holding the reins behind you causes him to stop moving, and Widow stopped moving when she felt what her rider was thinking.

You anticipated that it would be some time before you saw Web Slinger again, but to your surprise, he came looking for you right after you received your new, sparkly bracelet. In fact, you were tinkering with it when he arrived. He approached you from behind, coming up to you on foot, saying, "Looking quite fancy."

"Thanks Spider "Byte said it should help with the glitching and traveling," you say as you turn around to face him. "Speaking of which, where's that partner of yours?" you ask, referring to the horse.

"Widow is at the cafeteria, she loves the empanadas there, in fact you should try them sometime." Web Slinger mentions with a small laugh before pausing briefly. "But also, she wanted to give me some privacy so we could talk."

"And what do you wanna talk about that not even your horse isn't here? You two seem inseparable." you ask of him, but while you kept questioning it inside your head you didn't notice how there was less and less people around you two.

"Well you're right on that, you see, we were both bitten by the same spider so we have this mental link I call Rider sense," while the man gave his explanation you two turn the corner in a secluded hallway. "And let's just say a little spider told me you have a thing for 'saving horses~" he purposely blocked your left side with a single arm, leaning closer for dramatic effect. Back in your universe you recognize it as a kabedon.

The realization became apparent in your expression, even if you were wearing a mask or not. But there's advantages to being cornered, especially for a spider. "What can I say? I'm quite the animal activist." you lower your voice a bit, drawing him close enough to walk you fingers up his chest.

___

Riding a cowboy can't compare to riding a horse, but they sure are similar enough. The wooden headboard cracks under the pressure of your grip as you hold onto dear life, you're lucky Web Slinger took you to a secluded cabin in his universe cause it's imposible to contain the unholy noises coming from you when bouncying on the mighty steed that is Patrick O'Hara's cock.

"Slingeeer...! Fuck..." you lower your hands to his bare chest, your fingertip twitching on the few hairs scattered over his pectorals.

"Patrick, the names Patrick." he tells you with a strangled grunt. Web Slinger's is currently laying on his back as you ride him senseless, even if that spider bite gave you inhuman strength this man still has your legs cramping as you keep up with his own speed, he helps you by firmly holding your hips with his bare hands like the leather straps on Widow's harness but instead it's to keep you steady as the friction between your joined sexes becomes slippery and heated. Normally you'd hold on for longer but there's something about the angle of his raw cock inside you, the smell of sweat and the insinuating creaking of the bed that has you coming close all over this cowboy.

"God, you're so tight-" Web Slinger struggles to regulate his rhythm as he reaches his end as you milk his needy cock. He immediately sits up to wrap his tan arms around you, ramming inside you desperately as he chases his own high.

"...Patrick... PATRICK!" the edge of your climax catches up to you and doesn't let you string out anything that isn't helpless whining.

You didn't think his voice could get any hotter due to that old timey accent but you're proven wrong when he comes inside you with an array of deep growls and breathy sighs, hearing your name in between a few whispers. "That's it, so good for me, fuck, FUCK." even though he stayed still for a while Patrick still held a nice hold on you, bringing you down with him as he collapses back into the worn out mattress and tangled sheets.

"So... what you think sweetheart?" Patrick asks , propping himself on an elbow as he gives you a lazy smile.

"Wow, just wow." you exasperate. "I mean.. It's been a while since I had this much fun during a joyride." you attempt to comb your sweaty hair only to find Patrick's hat on your head, tossing it away with a laugh as you forgot you were wearing that thing.

"Expect nothing less with me sweetheart," he traces his fingertips over the side of your body, enjoying the afterglow.

#Patrick O'Hara x reader #patrick o'hara #Spiderverse #web slinger #spiderman beyond the spiderverse #webslinger x reader

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princess-glassred · 24 days

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Reddie Corpse Bride AU

It's 1989 and young adults Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak are arranged to be wed to one another, Eddie's mother has seemingly been able to put her homophobia aside for her sons sake, but still hold the outdated opinion it has to be an arranged marriage so she can make sure it's "the right person". However, what she really means by the right person is just wealthy since they're almost destitute, but of course Sonia would never admit that. That might make her sound like a bad mother who extorts her son, and she would NEVER do that. Never ever.

Richie, despite being overly confident and outspoken most of the time, is nervous as all hell to make a good impression on Eddie and feels like no matter what he does he'll mess up. Miraculously though, they do seem to hit it off when Richie tries to teach Eddie piano since his mom never let him learn it since she thought it'd give him arthritis. Slowly but surely, they start to bond, and even start calling each other by their nicknames instead of edward and richard. But alas, that comes crashing down when their families have a big victorian themed costume ball/rehersal dinner that's so chaotic it ends with Richie accidentally lighting Sonia on fire, and he's so embarrassed he flees to the town's abandoned arcade to hide away. Confused and dejected, he picks up a random token he finds laying around and pretends it's an engagement ring, practicing his vows and even slipping it inside one of the machines to imitated putting it on Eddie's finger. The vows are perfect and he's satisfied, but suddenly the arcade machine starts to rumble and crack, until a lone figure bursts out from inside and destroys the whole thing in a heavenly glow.

The figure reveals itself to be a zombie groom named Connor and he claims Richie and him are now married despite his terror and adamant denial. He takes him away to Derry's underworld and explains his tragic life story to him and why he was in an arcade machine. Appearently he died sometime in the 1970's after he fell in love with a guy but his homophobic cousin Henry disaproved of it. Enraged, Henry sent a fake letter pretending to be Connor's lover, asking for him to the abandoned arcade they met at so they could elope and run away together.

Niave little Connor did as he was asked, but when he showed up to the theatre Henry and his friend jumped him, and when they were done they stuffed his body inside the arcade machine where nobody would ever find it. His cousin went to an asylum after that and his friend went on the run, so even in death Connor never got closure over what happened. So, instead of moving on, Connor vowed that he would wait for his one true love to find him in that machine, marry him, and set him free, and unfortunately for Richie he did just that.

When Eddie inevitably finds out about this and tries to get help nobody believes him, his mother outright demands they take him to juniper hills for psychiatric evaluation IMMEDIATELY, but something quickly changes her mind. Suddenly she finds a new rich guy for Eddie to marry, Patrick Hockstetter, who she takes a liking to because he's quiet and good at manipulating her. Underneath his handsome looks and quiet demeaner though, he's really just a gold digging psychopath that ACTS like a gentleman. So how the hell are Richie and Eddie gonna get outta this one???

This took, i'm not kidding, 30 hours in ibis paint on my phone. 30. Hours.

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decaydanceredacted · 2 months

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patrick being a yapper and also in that new video saying he loves to help n be helpful.. go figure he's such a service top UGHH i bet he's so sweet and gentle like also a true gentleman. i want to ruin him sooo bad i need him at his breaking point

#ps

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anamoon63 · 4 months

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They both discuss whether it would be better to return home, but they have come this far, it's better to take advantage of the place, they can enjoy their time alone later in the evening.

They're on their way out the door when… Tiffanie: Wait a minute, that's the VIP area. How many stars are you, gentleman? Pat: One star, but - Tiffanie: Well, as we say around here, one is as good as none. Pat: Oh, come on…

Tiffanie: Yep, those are the rules. However, I can make an exception… for a fee. Patrick: Oh, not again… How much? Tiffanie: How much do you have? Patrick: Look, I don't think…

Tiffanie: Oh, all right, give me whatever you can, I'll take it. Patrick: Five, ten... Tiffanie: Hey, be more discreet in your counting, we don't want my boss to see us, do we? Patrick: Okay.

Tiffanie: Twenty simoleons? Is that all of it? Patrick: No, but I should leave some for consumption here. Tiffanie: Hm, that's true… All right, I'll take them this one time, come in.

#the sims 3 #ts3 #sims 3 simblr #ts3 simblr #sims 3 gameplay #ts3 gameplay #bridgeport #patrick orbison #jun xu #tiffanie glover #los sims de ana #anamoon63 sims

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ofgentleresolve · 1 year

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ferre makes aesthetics ( 1/??? ): patrick myungdae grace

"you show grace, not because you are weak, but because in a cruel world, it is the right thing to do."

( photos do not belong to me. patrick, however, does! )

#a true gentleman ( patrick. )#:DDDD #i had this in mi drafts bc i got inspired....#i think?? it came out okay!!#the theme was 'white' and 'minimalism' here #but also i just wrote a ton of hcs for his alternate universe self #which also meant i had to make edits to his story too....#( aesthetics by ferre. )

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sushiburritonoms · 2 months

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New ETN/GT Fic

I wrote this for Matpat's retirement in March and look at me, right on time as always.

Matthew Patrick's Home for Imaginary Friends and Biblical Abominations

Rating: Gen, no ships, comedy, could be considered crack I guess

Summary: Stephanie Patrick has made a lot of adjustments and sacrifices ever since her husband came back from Everlock and has come out of the other side a stronger person. But six years later, Matthew and Nikita finally achieve the impossible and bring Joey Graceffa back from Pandora’s Box...along with something else. What do you do when your husband accidentally releases the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?

You hire them for Youtube of course.

Basically a fusion of Game Theory lore and ETN, featuring Stephanie, Jason, Tom, Lee, Santi, Amy, Mirror Matt, Ash, and a ton of other Theorist cameos and easter eggs. Its the new channel hosts as the Four Horsemen; this will NOT make sense if you don't follow the Theorist channels.

Fic Snippet is below the cut.

Hey Death, whatcha doing?”

“Go away, Fam, I’m busy!”

“You’re busy in MY space! Aren’t you supposed to be off reaping innocent babies or kittens or something?!”

“For the last time, we are GUESTS; you don’t own the space, you glutinous half-wit! Leave me alone!”

“Matt! Matt, Death is messing with your kitchen!!”

“GUYS! I’M ON THE PHONE!”

Stepping into her own kitchen wasn’t supposed to feel like a SAE mission. But Steph kept a flask of holy water and a crucifix in her Lululemon hip bag as she made her way over from the stairwell. The moment she made her presence known, she saw sickly green flames brighten to life in the blank sockets of Death’s skull face.

“Ah! Stephanie! So good of you to join us.” Death nodded his head politely and lifted a skeletal hand to tug at his black hood as though it were some sort of dapper hat. His upper-class London accent made the act feel less ridiculous and more like proper gentleman behavior.

“…Hi.” Steph was never going to get used to how terrifying it was to see green fire instead of eyeballs, especially since Death towered several feet over her and Matthew. Speaking of which… “I thought I heard Matthew’s voice.”

“He went downstairs,” a smooth voice chimed in from behind Death’s black robe. “With the other dude and the chick.”

Death snorted. “Eloquent and informative as ever.”

“She knows who I’m talking about! Now move your nonexistent ass; some of us are trying to work here!”

Steph saw a thick human arm swat at Death’s cloak, and the living personification of Famine stepped into Steph’s view.

Famine grinned at her with a very normal and healthy-looking human male face. Thank God. She would take his human form any day over the emaciated, decayed corpse that was his true form. Today, he was favoring a physique that had very broad shoulders and thick muscular biceps that strained against a baby blue shirt with some anime character imprinted on it. Matthew would surely know the show, but she did not. He had a round tan face with a salt and pepper beard and very mischievous eyes that were partially hidden behind thick black glasses. He eagerly held out one of her mixing bowls, which was filled near to the brim with something that smelled utterly delicious.

“I’m making snacks!”

“Thank you, Famine. That’s very sweet of you.” Steph couldn’t help but break into a smile. “Is this the same body you wore yesterday?”

Famine nodded vigorously. “Matt said we need to pick a body and stick with it. I like this one. Check out my GUNS!” He set the bowl down on the countertop beside him and flexed one of his thick arms at Steph.

Death scoffed. “Flesh is weak. Entropy is inevitable.”

“You’re just jealous because you can’t create anything other than the same lameo body you’ve had for centuries.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the way my human form looks. Not all of us are vain like you and Pestilence.”

“Excuse you?”

Steph jumped. A small, slender woman with incredibly pale skin and long black hair suddenly sat cross-legged at one of Steph’s kitchen bar chairs. She wore a shoulderless black halter dress that went down to the floor, to where Steph could see the tips of shiny Doc Martens peeking out. On her face, she wore black eyeliner to outline her light blue eyes, which were intensely focused on Famine. She looked completely human except for one small detail. She had long, razor-sharp silver claws instead of nails resting elegantly in her lap, like ten slim stiletto daggers just waiting to be thrown.

Death shook his bony head. “How many times have I told you not to scare our hosts like that? Don’t make me put a bell around your tiny neck!”

“Hmm, I’d like to see you try,” Pestilence yawned into the palm of her hand, her claws flexing across her face. They were filed into sharp points and caught the light in a terrifying way. “Sorry to bother you, Steph, but Matt was looking for you and said you needed to be on his call. He’s with the Vessel and Nikita.”

“The dude and the chick!” Famine shrugged. “I said that already.”

“You are useless,” Death groaned.

Oh. Right. Matthew had said he was going to call Jason today. She’d completely forgotten that was happening.

You can continue the fic here

#escape the night #game theory #film theory #food theory #style theory #gt live #matpat #joey graceffa #santi massa #dapper mr tom #amy roberts #forrest lee #mirror matt #ash gt live #etn season 3 #etn #etn movie #sb fics

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my-own-walker · 1 year

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OMG I love your work so much!!🤩😘

Could u maybe do JPM but where the reader is like stoned as fuck one day and he comes into their room and she's facetiming her cousin and their just laughing so much that they can't breath and just like crying because of it

If you feel comfortable enough to do it🤪😊😊

Oh! Sweet Nothin’

note: oh absolutely fuck yes anon!! thank u. i love this crazy mf. i’m not very good at happy stories but let’s give this a try ...

warnings: drug use, mentions of death and being dead

+++

I wasn't dead. At least not yet.

My stay at the Hotel Cortez had begun a year prior. I took a solo trip to the City of Angels to take some time away from my life in San Fransisco. Dead end job. Hated my family. The usual shit.

I had heard really fucked up things about the hotel so of course I decided to stay there. I had an affinity for all things murder and ghouls. The rumors of the place being haunted drew me there like a cartoon character being drawn to the scent of a pie cooling on a windowsill.

Little did I know how true the rumors would be.

It wasn't long before I was being pestered by every Tom, Dick, and Harry that forever resided in the place. I wasn't scared, though. Not in the slightest.

I pestered them back, making jokes about their eternal damnation and subsequent imprisonment behind the building's four walls. My fucked up sense of humor got me far in the Hotel Cortez.

My gall enticed one very unfriendly spirit. One whose name was only spoken in whispers around the place. James Patrick March. Yes, the guy who built the place.

He and I clicked instantly. I don't know what it was about me that made him choose to spare me. But we were instant lovers. In fact, the night we met he was already saying he loved me. Boy, was he weird in the best way.

The guy had a knack for violence. Well actually, a fetish for murder. But again, he didn't scare me.

Maybe that's why he chose to protect me. He moved me into his suite and everything. I became a permanent fixture in his space. In return, he kept me alive so I could continue to roam the living world.

I loved him. More than anything in the world. He was dark. He was terrifying. But he was mine. And he was so loving back.

He really tried his best to understand me. Being a twenty-something-year-old in the 21st century, I knew much about the world that he didn't. James died in the early 1930s. He retained his old-timey accent and style of dress. He was a true gentleman, well, besides the whole killing thing.

I, on the other hand, was a burnout loser from the Bay Area. I dressed in ripped jeans, flowy skirts, and Doc Martens. I had tattoos and a shag haircut. I smoked a shit ton of weed and was addicted to social media. I was far from a lady, let alone one like James' past lovers.

But maybe that's what made us work. I balanced him out. He taught me about the finer things in life, and I gave him a window to the outside world in return.

Only I would fall in love with a dead 120-year-old.

It was a rainy afternoon in LA, so I returned to the Hotel Cortez. I had been out shopping for rolling papers downtown.

Behind its walls was where I felt most comfortable. James was off doing...whatever a 1930s ghost does when I arrived back at the suite. Needless to say, I immediately dug into my new purchase upon my arrival.

James hated the pen I used to get high. He thought it looked silly.

'If you insist upon smoking, dearest, you should do it like a true sportsman,' he would say..whatever the fuck that meant.

I figured it was cleaner, but then he showed me the box with all of his supplies to roll his own cigarettes, so I obliged. He even gifted me with my own mahogany box for my 'smoking materials,' as he called them.

It had been a while since I rolled anything but I managed to get it done, albeit sloppily, and laid on our shared bed, smoking away lazily as I listened to the rain hit the windows.

My phone buzzed next to me on the pillow.

Incoming FaceTime call from Sasha.

Sasha. They were the only family member I kept in contact with. Sasha was my cousin and the only one that knew the truth about my whereabouts. They would call every so often to check in on me.

Sasha and I were really close as children. So close, in fact, that people would ask me if they were my sibling. They basically were, honestly.

I picked up the phone and hit the answer button.

'Sup bitch,' I answered, blowing smoke out of my nose after I spoke.

'Y/N you are always fucking smoking,' Sasha laughed. 'Do you ever give it a rest?'

'Weed, Sasha, is my best friend,' I replied, taking another drag.

'And not me!?' they scoffed, feigning hurt. "Oh, and we're rolling joints now? I didn't know we were so high class. It must be James' impact.'

'High class? Shut the fuck up,' I chuckled. The lock on the front door to the suite clinked and the door swung open.

'Hello, darling!' James shouted through the space as he closed the door.

'Sasha, he's back. I should go,' I started.

James was very old-fashioned. I tried really hard to not boggle his mind with too many new things at once. He had never met Sasha, let alone seen a FaceTime call. I couldn't imagine turning my phone to him, revealing a person talking in real-time on the screen. Television was trivial enough to him.

'No! It would be so funny. You gotta introduce us,' they pleaded.

'Y/N?' James called, footsteps getting closer to the bedroom.

'Please! Keep me on the phone,' Sasha chuckled. 'I wanna see his brain explode.' I couldn't help but let out a laugh. They were right. James' reaction to new things was always funny.

The door to the bedroom creaked open and James stuck his head in, eyes closed.

'My love, are you decent?' he asked. Sasha let out a giggle on the phone. 'Whatever was that sound?'

'James, it's fine, come in,' I laughed. I stood up and met him by the door, leaving my phone on the bed. He wrapped his arms around my waist, picking me up and spinning me around. He kissed me warmly and set me back down.

'Oh, how I missed you so, dearest,' he sighed.

'I missed you too, James,' I replied, glancing back at my phone.

'And I see you've made use of my gift!' he exclaimed. He inspected my handiwork and tutted his tongue. 'My, we have some work to do. Might I teach you how to roll properly?'

'Of course,' I assured, flopping back onto the bed, picking up my phone, and giving Sasha a look. They covered their mouth with their hand, stifling a laugh. Seconds later I got a text.

Sasha: Bro, he talks so funny I'm crying

I also covered my mouth to stifle a laugh. I was too high for this.

'You and that tiny light box,' James began. 'Whatever can I do to tear your attention away from it?' He removed his suspenders and placed them on the dresser, beginning also to unbutton his shirt.

'Actually, James, I want to show you something,' I giggled.

'It's funny?' he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

'Well, kind of. I want you to meet someone,' I continued. His head whipped around the room, looking for the 'someone' I had just mentioned.

'Where is this person, then?' he asked, panic creeping into his voice. He always got like this. Like I was some sort of magician or something.

'No, no, James, they're on my phone,' I explained. 'Here, I'll just show you.' I turned my screen to face James. Sasha smiled and waved.

'Hi, James!' they called out. He immediately retreated back toward the door like a cornered animal, eyes bewildered.

I couldn’t help but cackle. Sasha let out the laughs they’d been holding in as well.

‘What is this? What is the meaning of this? How are you doing this?’ he asked, rapid-fire. He inched closer to the phone as my cousin and I continued to crack up. In stitches over his cluelessness. He picked up my phone and stared into it. 'Who are you?'

Between laughs Sasha managed to croak out, 'I'm Y/N's cousin. I live in San Fransisco.' James handed the phone back to me and looked at me with confusion on his face.

'James, my cousin Sasha is doing something called FaceTime. It's a new way to call people,' I explained. 'You can talk to people from far away and you can see their faces. Isn't that wonderful?' He nodded, unsure of the whole thing.

'So, that person is actually talking to us right now? From far away?' he asked, trying to clarify things.

'Yeah James, it's just like a phone call!' Sasha continued from the other side of the phone.

I let out a stifled chuckle. He was really trying his best to understand. It was so cool to introduce him to new things, but the way he acted --like the technology was going to hurt him -- was, unfortunately, very humorous to me.

'Oh, James, it's okay, I promise!' I assured him, beckoning him closer with my hand.

He climbed onto the bed and settled in next to me, looking over at the FaceTime call.

'Girl, you are too high for this, I'm sorry,' Sasha cackled.

'No no, it's fine,' I laughed, turning my face to James. 'You gotta learn somehow, right, love?' He nodded.

Within minutes James had gotten the hang of talking face-to-face with someone through the 'light box.' So much so, in fact, he began to give a cigarette rolling tutorial, performing as if he were on a stage.

I had the camera turned to him in front of me so Sasha could watch him.

'Then, ladies and gents, we take the paper,' he declared in a sing-songy voice, holding up the rolling paper demonstratively.

Sasha and I continued to laugh uproariously as James taught us how to roll 'the gentleman's way.'

By the end of the lesson, Sasha had to go.

'Goodbye! Goodbye, Sasha! I hope to see you again soon!' James called out as he waved to the camera.

'Bye, bitch,' I added before hanging up.

'Wh-what? Do you not like your cousin?' he scoffed, confused.

'Oh, no no,' I giggled, 'that's just how we say goodbye...from where...I'm from...' A lie, but a necessary one. I didn't feel like explaining how saying 'bitch' can also be good.

'Well, I will be sure to say that next time, then! I wouldn't want to be rude,' James decided.

'Oh, my sweet, sweet love,' I sighed, placing a hand on his cheek. 'You are too good.'

'Now, what do you say we try some of this giggle smoke?' he suggested, handing me the joint he rolled. He produced a lighter from his pants pocket and flicked it, holding it out to me.

+++

Okay, I'm not sure if I love this or if I hate it but I hope I did your request justice! Thank you for sending it in. As always, my inbox is open! Thank you for reading.

#evan peters #evan peters fic #evan peters x female reader #james patrick march #evan peters oneshot #ahs #evan peters x reader #ahs fandom #jpm #james patrick March x reader

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