Hoodie X Reader - Blog Posts
𝐵𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑛
A/N: I’m so full of Angst ideas and I’m not sure why. I promise to write more fluffier, cheesy stuff later on down the road, but for now, take this anguish my lovelies. (I might make a part two of this, only because I liked it so much.)
Word Count: 2.2k
TW: Cussing, Arguments, Brian and Tim are toxic, grief.
Reader is a female!
The apartment door slammed shut with a resounding crack, the force reverberating through the small space. You flinched, startled, and looked up from where you sat curled on the couch. Tim and Brian were back, their faces hard and unreadable, though the tension between them filled the room like smoke.
“It’s midnight, where the hell were you?!” you demanded, standing up as your voice quavered between anger and worry. Your heart pounded. They had been gone for hours with no word, leaving you to stew in an anxious cocktail of fear and frustration.
Tim tossed his jacket onto the back of the chair, not even sparing you a glance. “Out,” he muttered, the single word cutting through the air like a knife.
“Out? That’s all you’ve got to say?” You stepped closer, your fists clenched at your sides. “I was worried sick! You can’t just disappear for hours and not—”
“Are you even listening to me?” The words tumbled out, louder than you intended. The silence that followed was suffocating.
Brian leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were sharp, like he was sizing you up, ready to dismantle you piece by piece. “What more do you really want?” he sneered, his tone cold. “We’re back. Isn’t that enough?”
“Enough?” Your voice cracked. “You left me here, with no explanation, no text, nothing! Do you know what that feels like?”
Brian’s laugh was bitter, a sound devoid of warmth. “You’re so pathetic. Always clinging, always demanding.”
Your chest tightened, the words hitting harder than they should have. “What is wrong with you guys? I stayed up all night worrying about you. I thought you might’ve been hurt—or worse!” you snapped, though your voice wavered under the weight of Tim’s sharp glare.
Tim finally turned to you, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and something sharper. “Can you just fuck off already?” he said, his words devoid of emotion.
The ground felt like it was slipping beneath you. You stared at him, unable to process what he’d just said, eyes starting to form small beads, glistening when the kitchen light reflected off them.
Brian’s smirk widened as he tilted his head, his voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, is the poor little thing going to cry? Can’t handle a bit of truth, huh?”
You stood there, rooted in place, as the words rained down on you like blows you couldn’t dodge. Your chest tightened, each syllable slicing deeper, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The walls seemed to close in around you, the air growing heavier with every passing moment.
Tim remained unmoved, his gaze sharpening.
Brian pushed himself off the counter, his movements slow and deliberate as he walked past you, his shoulder brushing yours in a way that felt intentional. “Ever since we first met, you’ve been nothing but a burden,” he muttered, his voice low but clear enough to pierce through the din of your spiraling thoughts.
Something in you cracked. The fragile hope you’d held onto, that this was just a bad day and things would work themselves out, shattered completely. “Fine,” you said, your voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of your resolve. “Leave, then. Both of you. I don’t need this.”
For the first time, neither of them had a quick retort. They exchanged a glance—silent, unreadable—and without another word, Tim grabbed his jacket. Brian didn’t even bother to look back as they walked out the door.
The silence they left behind was deafening.
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
The door closed with a soft click this time, and the sound made your stomach twist. The fight was over, but it didn’t feel like a victory. The quiet that followed wasn’t peace—it was suffocating. You stood frozen in the center of the room, your arms hanging limply at your sides, heart hammering in your chest.
You’d told them to leave. And they had.
Tears pricked your eyes, blurring your vision as the weight of everything began to settle. Their words echoed in your mind, each one sharper than the last.
“You’re so pathetic.”
“Can you just fuck off already?”
“You’re nothing but a burden.”
Your knees buckled, and you sank onto the couch, trembling. You hugged yourself, as if you could somehow shield yourself from the bruises their words had left behind. It wasn’t the first time arguments like this had erupted between you three. The stress of working with the Operator, the endless, mind-numbing missions, and the constant danger had frayed everyone’s nerves. But tonight had been different.
Tonight, they hadn’t just been angry—they’d been cruel.
You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, your breath hitching as the tears came faster. “Why did it have to be like this?” you whispered to no one.
For a moment, you let yourself remember the good days—the laughter, the late nights spent curled up together, the small moments of tenderness that had made all the chaos bearable. You’d thought that those moments meant something, that they could carry you all through the worst of it.
But maybe you were wrong.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second dragging on longer than the last. The apartment felt too big, too empty without their presence, even if that presence had been brimming with anger. You couldn’t stop replaying the argument in your head, trying to pinpoint the moment where everything had spiraled out of control.
Had you pushed too hard? Or had they finally shown you what they truly thought of you?
Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, snapping you out of your thoughts. You reached for it with shaking hands, half-hoping it was one of them. Maybe Tim or Brian would apologize, or at least explain what had set them off so badly.
But it wasn’t them. It was just a useless notification—a weather alert. You threw the phone back onto the table, the small hope you’d allowed yourself fizzling out as quickly as it had come.
A cold wave of exhaustion swept over you. You pulled a blanket over your shoulders, curling into yourself as the tears continued to fall.
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
Hours passed, though you couldn’t tell how many. You didn’t sleep—how could you, with your mind racing and your chest aching like this? You wanted to hate them, wanted to banish their faces from your thoughts, but it was impossible.
The door opened again sometime near dawn. The sound jolted you upright, your breath catching in your throat. For a split second, you thought maybe they’d come back to make things right.
Tim stood in the doorway, looking drained and disheveled. Brian was behind him, his face an unreadable mask. Neither of them spoke at first.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice hoarse from crying.
Tim looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “We forgot some stuff,” he muttered. “It’s not like we came back for you.”
The sharpness of his words was dulled by his tone—it wasn’t cruel, just... hollow.
Brian crossed the room without a word, grabbing a duffel bag from the corner and stuffing a few things into it. He didn’t even glance in your direction.
The sight of them, so detached and indifferent, made something inside you snap. “That’s it?” you said, your voice trembling with anger and disbelief. “You’re just going to walk in here, grab your shit, and leave? After everything?”
Tim turned to face you, his expression darkening. “What do you want me to say?” he snapped. “That we’re sorry? That everything’s fine now? It’s not.”
“I don’t want your empty apologies,” you shot back. “I wanted you to care. I wanted you to try.”
Brian finally spoke, his voice cold and sharp. “We’ve been trying. You think this is easy? You think we can just continue acting like everything’s fine when it’s not?”
“Do you even hear yourselves?” you said, your voice rising. “You’re blaming me for this—like I’m the one who’s broken us!”
Tim’s jaw tightened. “Maybe you should look in the mirror, then.”
The room fell silent again, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy stone.
You swallowed hard, blinking back the fresh tears that threatened to spill over. “If this is how little you think of me, then why did you stay for so long?”
Neither of them answered.
Brian slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, his expression unchanging. “We couldn’t handle faking it anymore,” he said.
You stared at them, your chest heaving as anger and despair warred within you. “Fine,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I saw in you both to be together this long.” The words you spoke came out like venom, even shocking you.
Tim hesitated for a moment, but Brian didn’t look back as he opened the door and stepped out. Tim followed, the door closing behind them with a finality that left you breathless.
And then, once again, you were alone.
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
The hours that followed their departure stretched endlessly, every second heavier than the last. The apartment felt like a hollow shell—an echo chamber of everything they had said and everything you hadn’t had the chance to say. Sleep evaded you; every time you closed your eyes, their voices lingered, cruel and sharp like glass shards digging into your chest.
When the sun finally rose, its weak light spilled through the curtains, and you sat up, exhausted but restless. Their things were gone now, but the spaces they had filled—the chair Tim always slouched in, the spot on the kitchen counter Brian leaned against when he teased you—those remained, taunting you.
By noon, you had reached your breaking point. You had to confront them—not to bring them back, but to purge the poison they’d left in your veins. You grabbed your phone and sent a message to Tim.
We need to talk. Face-to-face. Please.
You didn’t expect him to reply. You didn’t expect him to come, either. But an hour later, there was a knock at the door.
When you opened it, Tim stood there, his expression guarded. He had changed out of his wrinkled clothes from the night before but still looked just as tired.
“Where’s Brian?” you asked flatly.
“Not here,” he said, stepping inside. “He didn’t want to come.”
“Of course he didn’t,” you muttered under your breath.
Tim frowned, crossing his arms. “You wanted to talk. So talk.”
The sight of him standing there, so detached, made your blood boil. “You promised me,” you said, your voice trembling. “You both did. You promised we’d stick together, no matter how hard things got.”
Tim’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, well, promises don’t mean much when everything’s falling apart.”
“You think I don’t know that?” you snapped. “I gave you everything I had. Everything! Look where that got me.”
He flinched, just barely, but it was enough to spur you on. “Every time I look at you,” you said, your voice breaking, “all I see are the faces of the people who once told me they loved me, that I was the only bright spark in their dark world. And now you’re just like them—another person who tore me apart and left me here to bleed.”
“Stop,” Tim said quietly, but you weren’t done.
“You changed me, Tim. You and Brian both. You broke me down until there was nothing left. And the worst part? Neither of you will ever find someone who loves a soul as filthy as yours.”
“That’s enough!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the room like a whip.
The silence that followed was deafening. Tim looked away, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
You let out a shaky breath, your anger giving way to exhaustion. “Was any of it real? Did it ever really mean something to either of you?” you whispered, looking at Tim with some form of hope in your eyes.
Tim’s head snapped back toward you, his expression shifting. “Of course it meant something!” he said, his voice cracking. “You think I didn’t care? You think none of it mattered to me?”
“Did it?” you asked, your voice flat. “Because if it did, why did you let it end like this? Why didn’t you fight for us?”
He stared at you, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came out.
Finally, he shook his head and turned toward the door. “I can’t do this,” he muttered.
“Of course you can’t,” you said bitterly. “Running away is the only thing you’ve ever been good at.”
He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob, but didn’t look back. And then, just like that, he was gone.
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
The next few days passed in a blur. You didn’t hear from either of them, and part of you was grateful for the silence. But the pain lingered, festering like an open wound. You replayed the argument with Tim over and over in your mind, dissecting every word, every glance, every moment where things could have gone differently.
You weren’t sure if you wanted to fix things anymore. Maybe there was nothing left to fix.
But one thing was certain—you wouldn’t let them tear you apart again.
𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠! 🖤
𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑦-𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠
𝐺𝐼𝐹 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑘𝑟𝑣𝑝𝑖𝑘𝑎
pleasee . i’ve been thinking abt this everyday since its came out 🥲 .
I just want Brian to pull down my panties, cum in them, lift them back up, and send me on my way. I am down tremendously-
content/warnings: noncon, physical restraint, reader is AFAB and wears panties but no gender is specified, “cunt” and “pussy” used to describe reader’s genitalia, thigh fucking, pervert Brian, no actual penetrative sex, reader gets jumped in the woods, little to no build up/plot it’s just straight into the porn
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Without warning you’re suddenly shoved to the ground, a heavy weight coming down on your back to keep you there. You yelp in surprise as you feel a body land on top of yours, pushing you into the dirt and sending a sharp pain through your ribs as they bend beneath the force of two people.
Your attempt to yell out is swiftly cut short when a gloved hand tangles itself in your hair, gripping it tightly as it muffles your cries with the soft dirt on the forest floor. You can feel the small rocks hidden in the soil leaving scrapes on your cheeks as you thrash.
The stranger’s second hand comes down on your back, grabbing at your waist to pull your ass into the air as he hastily, almost clumsily pulls up the bottom of your shirt. He fumbles with the waistband of your shorts, fingers slipping over your button as the fabric of his glove fights with him. He lets up on your hair for one second just so he can use both hands, violently yanking at the fasten of your jeans until it surrenders to his efforts with a harsh ripping sound. He pulls your zipper down so fast it nearly breaks, and even quicker still he’s jerking your shorts down your hips and then your thighs. You’re only allowed to lift your head long enough to cough and spit, wincing at the feeling of dirt in your teeth. You manage to turn and look back at your attacker for only a split second before your face is back against the ground. You whimper against the earth as the sight of the hooded man flashes before your eyes.
You swear that you can hear him chuckle under his breath at the squeal that crawls up your throat as you feel him pulling eagerly at your panties. You thrash against him as much as you can, but despite your best efforts the pressure on your head and back keeps you disoriented. It’s clear what he wants, though; he lets up just a bit when you sit still. You’re tiring yourself out fast, and you both know it.
You shiver when your panties are pulled down to your knees, resting against the ground and exposing your delicate cunt to the eyes of this aggressive pervert. He smiles under his mask, an expression of absolute debauchery hidden behind black fabric and a sewn on red frown that’ll be burned into your memory forever.
The strangled noise you let out when you feel him rut against your waiting pussy through his jeans is mortifying. The denim and its metal button are harsh against your sensitive flesh as the stranger practically humps you like a wild dog, hard on twitching in his pants. You can hear him huffing through his mask, breathing heavily through the gaps in his gritted teeth. He’s desperate, nearly rabid with need for a reason that’s beyond you.
You freeze when you hear him fumble with his zipper, gloved knuckles brushing your back as he struggles with only thing keeping him restrained. A heavy gasp makes your body shake when you suddenly feel the already leaking tip of his cock brush against your thigh.
“W-Wait, don’t—!” You stammer, thrashing even harder in his grip with the last of your energy. He shushes you harshly, fingers tightening harshly in your hair as a warning.
“Don’t be so loud,” He whispers, “You’re fine. I ain’t gonna hurt ya unless you make me…”
You squeak in surprise when his cock slides between your trembling thighs. You instinctively squeeze your legs together, only to cringe when he moans in response. He lets out a shuddering sigh of pleasure as he repositions himself over you, finally releasing your hair only to pin your hands down, wrapping your body in his to keep you still as he starts to thrust. The noises that are pulled from your throat every time he pushes forward are viscerally humiliating, especially the way your voice cracks when his shaft just barely brushes your clit, not once threatening to break through your entrance but taking horrid delight in using it for his own pleasure. He’s shameless in the noise he makes, huffing and groaning in your ear and cursing under his breath every time he moves.
He barely keeps a steady pace, his desperation becoming apparent with each thrust. You can feel his cock twitch against your thighs as it slides between them, able to feel every vein that runs up the side, all of them pumping hard and fast with adrenaline and primal need. You shudder to think what it would’ve felt like had he decided to use your hole instead.
“H-Haah…you’re…g-getting wet,” He growls in your ear, as though it’s an insult. It may as well be. You whine and turn away from him, biting your lip and ignoring the fact that you can feel yourself soaking his cock and it slides against your cunt.
You can feel him starting to tremble, and you know in an instant he won’t last much longer. You suck in a breath, silently hoping whatever he chooses to do won’t leave a mess on your back or thighs. You won’t be able to deal with it until you’ve made the trek all the way back down the trail.
“Gonna…g-gonna cum—“ He whispers through gritted teeth. His hands squeeze around yours, grip getting tighter and tighter, almost to a painful degree as he chases his release with reckless abandon. He’s staring to lose whatever little bit of restraint he has left, and fast.
All at once his resolve collapses, guttural noises of pleasure falling from his lips as his hips slam erratically against you. He barely manages to choke out one last word of warning before suddenly he stops, cock head barely nestled between your thighs as his entire body tenses and shakes with the force of an orgasm that nearly makes him cry out. He barely manages to strangle the sound before it leaves his throat, cock twitching as it releases hard and fast. You cringe in anticipation of feeling the sticky warmth trail down your thighs, but the sensation never comes. After a few moments you sigh, relieved to have been granted this one small mercy.
You’re too dazed and dizzy to move when he finally gets up off of you. You stay on the ground despite your humiliating position, and despite the wicked chuckle your attacker allows to slip.
His boots crunch on the ground, and for a moment you think he’s just going to walk away, leave you here to take care of yourself. Then you feel your panties being slid back up your thighs. You can only be confused for a moment before you’re struck with the uncomfortable feeling of your warm, soaking panties squeezing around the mound of your cunt. The substance is thick and unbearably sticky, not to mention far too much for it to have come from you, especially without an orgasm.
You flinch and squeal as he fastens your shorts back in place around your waist, tightly keeping your panties in place and making sure you can’t escape the feeling of his cum soaking your pussy and threatening to stain your jeans.
He stands back up, buttoning his jeans and adjusting his pants a bit before shoving his hands back in the pocket of his faded yellow hoodie. He’s silent for a moment, admiring his work with a hidden smirk spread across his face.
“Better get walkin’, sweetheart,” He teases, toe of his boot nudging your pussy through your shorts, “It’s a loooong way home.”