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cybergoth1 · 27 days ago

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﹟— ❛❛LOATHING, UNADULTERATED LOATHING...

☆﹟— paring: fem!deadpool!reader x jason todd.

☆﹟— summary: jason todd used to think dying was the worst thing that ever happened to him. then he met you.

☆﹟— warnings: +18, dni. hate fuck. rough sex, oral sex, hair pulling, a little bit of spanking, filthy dirty talk, degrading, unprotected sex. swearing, blood, guns, suggestive dialogue, deadpool being deadpool, reader and jason throwing punches in the kitchen. enemies to lovers (?). the divider was made by @bernardsbendystraws. thank you!. some of deadpool's lore. red hood's lore. 4k words!.

JASON HAD BEEN TORTURED, murdered in a warehouse explosion, and shoved into the Lazarus Pit like some experiment. He came back different; angrier, colder, with a permanent itch under his skin he could never quite scratch. He’d clawed his way back into a city that barely noticed he was gone, wearing a new mask and a grudge like armor. And then he’d spent years readjusting to a world he never asked to return to, trapped in a body that felt more like a cage than himself. But none of that, none of that life-long, soul-crushing suffering, prepared him for the torment of working with you.

Standing by your side made him believe in karma. Hell, even divine punishment at this point. Maybe those christians were onto something after all, because just hearing your voice made him want to put a gun in his mouth. That was the level of his despair.

You, with your mouth that never shut up. Your warped moral compass. Your blood-soaked sense of humor. Your fourth-wall-breaking commentary that made him wonder if he was the one hallucinating. You were a walking migraine. A useless, brainless cheap merc from New York who somehow hadn’t managed to die permanently — thanks only to that freak-show healing factor. And, of course, your kill count that made even him raise an eyebrow.

And now you were in his city.

Bruce was pissed. Truly, deeply furious, the kind of mad that led to terse one-sentence orders and sending Red Hood to "clean up the mess". Which meant Jason got stuck playing babysitter to a lunatic who treated Gotham like it was her new theme park. You kept taking contracts on people too close to the Bat’s interest; mob bosses under surveillance, corrupt judges, the occasional undercover informant. Important people. The kind of people you weren’t supposed to make disappear without blowing up months of work.

Months of his fucking work, by the way.

And now here he was, trying to keep you from burning his city to the ground while resisting the urge to shoot you in the face. Not that it would work. He’d tried. Twice. Shoot you right in the face, and in the thighs at least four times. You just laughed at him. Like the bitch you are.

But in the end, the two of you had a few things in common. You were both taking out terrible people, and it’s not like the old man and his cult could really do anything about it, you’re basically immortal. So, yeah… sometimes he ended up teaming up with you behind his family’s back.

You two were literally doing that right now. And he bitterly regretted making that damn call.

The warehouse you two had broken into thirty minutes ago reeked of cheap gun oil and rust. Smoke still curled in the rafters, clinging to the air. Jason stood near a half-shattered window, body tense, pistol aimed at the last conscious thug crawling toward his dropped knife.

One silenced shot.

Thud.

Peace.

Or… so he thought.

"Okay, but hear me out—what if, instead of just shooting them, we had, like, a dance battle first?" your voice rang out behind him, chipper as hell, despite the blood soaking your suit from shoulder to knee. "Real Step Up vibes. I could’ve been Channing Tatum, Hood. You robbed me of that."

Jason let out a slow, pained sigh.

You strolled into view, katanas dripping, mask rolled up just enough to chomp on some suspicious-looking beef jerky you’d stolen off one of the corpses.

He stared at you — hard — judgment practically radiating from behind the helmet.

You winked. "What? He wasn’t gonna need it. I checked. Real dead. No pulse."

He holstered his gun like he was trying to keep himself from choking you with it.

"This was supposed to be stealth," Jason growled. "You came in like a Michael Bay explosion in clown shoes."

"I only wear clown shoes on thursdays. Today’s monday, obviously I wore my sexy combat heels. They give me great posture."

He rolled his eyes, not that you could see it — but you probably felt it.

"You decapitated a guy mid-sentence."

"Yeah, I freed him from the shackles of his spine. Heroism."

Jason sighed, loudly. It came out all warped and mechanical through his helmet’s voice emulator, like a dying vacuum cleaner. Fitting, given his shitty mood.

"Do you even remember the briefing?"

"Absolutely not." You beamed. "But you looked super hot while explaining it. I was distracted by your mouth. It moves like a really angry kiss."

He turned to you slowly, the glare behind his helmet palpable.

You tossed your bloodied jerky onto a pile of corpses. "Also, sorry about the headshot bet. I thought we were still playing. I win, though. That guy’s brain did a little jazz hands at the end."

Jason’s jaw ticked. His fists clenched. He hated you so fucking much. Every mission with you ended in some kind of bloodbath or blown cover. And he’d put up with it. Again and again. Because, unfortunately, you were useful when managed correctly. Roy’s words, not his.

He’d managed feral dogs with more grace.

Still, he tried.

Every time he managed to think of you as just a useful tool — and not an actual person capable of annoying the absolute shit out of him — some of that deep, deep hatred eased up. Just enough to keep him from having a heart attack mid-conversation.

"Let’s just sweep the building and go," he muttered, shouldering past you. You could feel the raw, seething loathing rolling off him. He was pissed. Yikes.

You grinned. "C’mon, don’t be mad. They were assholes. One of them called me a slut with swords. Joke’s on him, though, I’m also amazing in bed. Two for one."

He turned slowly. Here we go.

You took a playful step back. "Ooh. Somebody’s got the grumpy face on. What’s wrong, Red?"

He inhaled, deep, slow, like he was trying not to explode.

Then he did.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Ooooh, there it is."

"I’m serious," he snapped. "You’re a fucking useless dumbass. You blew the side off the building before I even gave the signal!"

"Well, to be fair—" you started.

"Shut the fuck up."

Your mouth closed, but your smirk widened.

Jason stepped toward you, voice dropping to a hiss. "I have had it with your psychotic bullshit. You treat every op like it’s a fucking improv skit. People are dying. Real people. And all you care about is if your one-liner hit or if I laughed at your dumbass joke."

You raised an eyebrow. Not that he could see. "To be fair, the ‘pencil-dick mafia’ line was comedy gold—"

"SHUT UP!" he barked, voice raw now. "Jesus, do you ever stop running your mouth? It’s like your brain’s stuck in horny stand-up mode while the rest of us are trying not to fuck up the mission. You’re not fucking funny. You’re a goddamn walking catastrophe with no fucking impulse control!"

You stared at him.

He kept going.

"You think you’re charming? You’re exhausting. You make every mission ten times harder than it has to be. You blow our cover, you disobey orders, and you laugh while slicing people open like it’s a fucking cartoon. I don’t care how fast you heal—if you get me or anyone else killed with your bullshit, I will personally find a way to keep you dead."

He was panting now.

"And for the record, stop flirting with me. You’re not sexy. You’re not even fucking attractive. You’re loud, obnoxious, and about as subtle as a chainsaw to the face. You think I haven’t had people throw themselves at me? Women with class, with self-control, with an ounce of fucking dignity? I don’t want you. I don’t even like you. Fuck."

Silence.

The air was thick.

And then—

You let out a soft, breathless laugh. "Holy shit."

You stepped closer, eyes gleaming inside your mask. "That was the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me. I think I need to sit down."

"What—"

You pointed at him. "That? That whole verbal curb-stomp? I think I just came a little."

"No, seriously," you whispered, leaning in like it was a secret. "I am so unwell right now. I think my ovaries did jazz hands. My therapist’s gonna hear about this. If I had a diary, I’d write ‘Today, Red Hood called me a useless bitch, and I got horny in a warehouse full of corpses."

He took a step back like you were radioactive.

You followed. "Say more mean shit. Call me pathetic. Tell me I’m annoying again but in that gravelly ‘I want to strangle you’ voice. Maybe spit on me?"

Jason turned sharply. "I hate you."

You cupped your hands around your mouth. "Is that foreplay?!"

He ignored you while leaving the warehouse.

You grinned like a devil.

Ten minutes later, you were sitting on the roof together, watching the flames lick up the side of the warehouse. Jason was smoking, trying to pretend you weren’t five inches from his thigh. He’d given up smoking a while ago, but being around you made him seriously reconsider. Alcohol or nicotine felt like the only way to survive your presence.

He was so out of it, he couldn’t even bother worrying about you seeing his face without the helmet.

"I’d call this a win," you offered, sipping from a cup of coffee you definitely hadn’t been holding five minutes ago. "We stopped the arms deal, torched the stockpile, and I got to see you yell like a stressed-out dom in a CW drama."

He exhaled smoke through his nose. "Stop talking."

"Make me."

He didn’t move.

You smirked.

"I can be quiet. If you put something in my mouth."

Jason side-eyed you with the force of a thousand suns.

"Like a gag. Or a sandwich. Or your coc—"

He shoved the rest of his cigarette into your coffee and stood up.

You sighed dreamily.

"God, I love him."

TO JASON'S GREAT MISFORTUNE, the two of you kept working together. Worse, you somehow wormed your way into Roy and Kory’s lives, like this was some kind of team-up he never asked for. Naturally, Roy adored you. You made him laugh so hard he had to stop eating and drinking around you just to avoid choking to death. Kory didn’t get your sense of humor at all, but she liked your honesty. And Jason?

Jason just kept hating you for using his damn safehouse like it was your personal Airbnb.

At least during that time, he’d managed to run a few background checks on you — always keeping tabs, just in case. Dug up some interesting things, like the fact that you’d had terminal cancer and underwent some sketchy experimental treatment. It saved your life, sure… but it also wrecked your body. Now you were covered in scars and practically unkillable thanks to a healing factor so extreme it bordered on obscene.

But being honest, he didn’t give a fuck about your messed-up origin story. Cancer, shady experiments, freakshow healing factor. Whatever. Join the club. He’d been blown to pieces and dumped in a Lazarus Pit, so forgive him if he didn’t feel special sympathy. Your problem was your problem. All he wanted was for you to stop eating his food, leaving weapons in his couch cushions, and walking around his place like it had your name on the deed.

You were needy and reckless, an obnoxious pain in the ass with zero boundaries. Jesus Christ.

But, anyways, things had really gone downhill after that garbage fire of a day he had. He and Isabel were done for good, — she’d been his last attempt at feeling something decent in his shitty life, something soft, something that didn’t hurt — you’d tanked another mission, and now you were somehow giving him unsolicited dating advice, like your love life wasn’t a fucking joke. He knew damn well the only person you’d ever seriously dated before turning into Deadpool was a stripper named Vanessa. Sweet girl. Way too good for this mess. She died in New York months ago, because of you.

And then came the shitshow.

Jason had snapped at you again, like it was becoming a habit.

He would never forget the way your body froze, how your shoulders locked up, your breath caught, and every trace of humor bled out of you. Even with that stupid mask on, the look in your eyes gutted him. Like you’d been slapped.

And he meant it to hurt. Every word he spat was sharp and aimed to cut deep. And judging by the silence that followed, he had.

"The only person who ever loved you was a fucking hooker. And even she had to be paid to do it. So fuck off."

The world stopped in his living room.

You didn’t make a stupid joke.

Your fists clenched before your brain could even register it.

Then you hit him. Hard. Square across the jaw.

No more nice ‘Pool, hm?

His head snapped sideways with a grunt, blood blooming in his mouth, but he was already swinging back. Jason’s body twisted with trained precision, his fist caught your side and you gasped, more from fury than pain.

You grabbed him by the front of the shirt and slammed him into the wall hard enough to make it shudder. The plaster cracked behind him, flakes drifting to the floor like ash. His hands came up again, but you were already pushing him back, breath hot, eyes wild under the mask.

"Call her a hooker again," you growled, breath ragged. "I fucking dare you."

Jason spat blood, his grin feral.

The next punch came fast. His knuckles cracked against your jaw. You grunted, stumbled, but swung back instantly — he ducked under it, shoulder-checked you into the wall, and the two of you collapsed in a flurry of fists and curses.

He grabbed you by the waist and slammed you onto the kitchen counter, the edge biting into your back. You didn’t hesitate. Your boot caught him square in the chest and knocked him back into the fridge. The whole thing rattled violently, a magnet flying off and clattering to the tile floor.

Neither of you even looked.

Your eyes burned. Your chest heaved. You were soaked in sweat.

Jason’s pupils were blown wide, locked on you. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, smeared across his lip, but he didn’t wipe it away. He just stood there, chest rising and falling, like he couldn’t tell if he wanted to hit you again or—

"You don’t talk about her. You don’t even fucking know—"

God, you never shut up.

Jason rolled his eyes, and then his mouth crashed into yours, taking full advantage of the way your mask was rolled up to the bridge of your nose — your lips exposed and vulnerable for him. You bit his already-busted bottom lip out of pure fury, tasting copper and spite. You swung at him again, but he caught your wrist, groaning low in his throat.

Then his mouth was on yours again, harder this time, devouring you like he was starving and furious about it. His knee forced your legs apart, pinning you where he wanted you. One hand fisted in your collar, the other wrapped around your throat. Not choking, not yet. Just holding.

"Always running that loud, stupid mouth around me," he growled against your lips. His breath ghosted over your cheek, warm, intoxicating, and for one fleeting second, you almost forgot. Forgot how he disrespected you. Forgot the way he spat on the memory of the only person you ever truly loved.

"Gonna do everyone a favor and keep it busy."

The kiss tasted like iron, blood on both your tongues, heat rising like a fever. And despite everything you felt yourself melting into it, breath hitching against his mouth. Your hands curled in his jacket, unsure if you meant to push him away or drag him closer.

Jason’s hand fisted in your leather mask, rough and impatient, and tore it off completely. The air hits your skin like ice. You flinched. You felt naked. Your scars, your ruined skin, were now fully on display. And for a second, you hesitated. You turned your face just slightly, instinctively, already bracing for disgust.

But Jason didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate.

Instead, his hand came to your jaw, guiding your face back to his and then his tongue slid past your aching lips, slow and deliberate.

Your brain short-circuited.

"Jason…"

You whimpered against him, a soft, unguarded sound you couldn’t even stop. His bigger body pressed against yours, pinning you to the counter. He was already hard, you could feel it heavy against your thigh.

"All that goddamn noise, every smirk, every wiseass comment, walking around my place like you owned it…" His mouth dragged along your jaw. "You’ve been begging for this. Dripping desperation under all that leather."

His hand dipped between your thighs, fingers finding your clothed cunt. You’d never been a prude but the sound that left your throat was a full-bodied, surprised whine, like some Victorian maiden getting her ankle glimpsed at a ball.

"Is that what gets you off, huh?" he growled against your skin, his thumb finding your poor clit. "Pissing me off until I snap? Playing dumb little games, fighting me in my fucking kitchen, so I’ll bend you over and fuck the attitude out of you?"

Yes, you were absolutely eating that shit up. Thighs already twitching, core pulsing, hips aching to grind into the heat of his thumb. But being a little shit was practically a personality trait by now.

"You sound like a discount Christian Grey or, I don’t know, one of those garbage Tumblr fanfics written by a—"

Jason didn’t let you finish.

He spun you around with zero finesse, hands gripping your hips like handles, and bent you over the kitchen counter so fast your breath left you in a grunt. Cold marble met your cheek as your hands scrambled for purchase.

"Try saying that again with my cock halfway inside you."

You just smirked, eyes wild.

"Oh, I love that."

He yanked the bottom half of your uniform down in one smooth, breathless motion. The cool air licked across your thighs and your ass.

Jason froze.

"...Hello Kitty panties? Are you fucking serious?"

You craned your neck with the most unapologetic grin known to man.

"I got them at a Walmart discount bin. Two-ninety-nine."

He stared for a second, dead silent, like he genuinely couldn’t decide whether to fuck you stupid or haul you in for crimes against fashion. His fingers hooked the waistband of your ridiculous Hello Kitty panties and let the elastic snap back against your skin with a sharp flick.

From that angle, bent over the counter, ass bare, pants around your knees, he could see everything.

Strong legs braced wide. Thick, powerful thighs. And the scars, God, the scars. Burns, patches of rough, discolored skin where your healing factor hadn’t cared about aesthetics. Jagged textures that twisted and crawled across your flesh.

He didn’t say anything.

Not at first.

You sighed after a few seconds.

"Gonna leave a lady hanging?"

"I don’t see any ladies here."

Your grin widened.

He dropped to his knees behind you.

Rough hands yanked your thighs apart as he ducked between them, spreading you open — your ugly panties were already balled up in his jacket pocket, swiped without a second thought after he’d torn them off you.

"Hey," you panted, voice wobbling through a half-laugh, half-moan, "you don’t have to steal my underwear, okay? I can buy you your own. Maybe with little bats on them—Jason?"

His only response was a low growl as he sank his tongue into you without a shred of mercy.

You jolted, mouth falling open.

"Fuck—okay, okay, take the panties, Jesus—"

He didn’t even look up. Just shoved your thighs wider, buried himself deeper, and groaned like your pussy was the first meal he’d had in days. Whatever joke you’d been about to crack turned into a breathless scream, your fingers scrabbling across the counter for something to hold on to. He licked like a man possessed, angry and hungry. You tried to push him back just enough to breathe, and he slapped your thigh. Hard.

"Don’t fucking move," he moaned against you, voice wrecked, wet sounds echoing through the room as he sucked your clit. Then he spit directly onto your cunt, tongue catching it before it could drip, and shoved two thick, warm, fingers inside you without warning.

"Oh—God—what the fuck?" you gasped, legs trembling as his fingers did something positively illegal, curling them just right inside you.

"Where the hell did you learn that?!"

He bit your thigh, hard enough to bruise, then sucked another mark into the skin.

"Jas—fuck—Jason—"

He pulled back just enough to speak.

"Did you ever shut the fuck up?" Jason growled, fingers still deep inside you, knuckles slick, "you sound like a fucking chatterbox."

You gasped, moaned, and tried to sass back but it caught in your throat. His fingers were so big, stretching you up so good…

He smirked, mean and low. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

He stood up suddenly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and his fingers on his jeans. You didn’t get to finish the way you wanted.

"Hey— I was in the middle of something…"

Jason didn’t even glance at you. Just muttered, "Didn’t ask," as he undid his belt with sharp movements, the clink of the buckle cutting through the room. You twisted around on the counter, half-smirking through your haze.

"Hmm, someone’s eager. I get it, okay? I’m hot. Hot like Jessica Alba in The Fantastic Four."

He stepped forward, belt dangling from one hand, eyes dark, mouth set in a flat line. His other hand grabbed your hip hard enough to bruise and spun you back around with no effort at all. Jason lined himself up and thrust in, deep, splitting you open in one filthy, perfect stroke.

Every snarky comeback, every filthy one-liner, every sarcastic jab — all gone. For the next thirty minutes, you couldn’t even form a normal sentence. You moaned loud. Legs shaking.

"Fuck," you gasped. "Jason—"

"Shut up," he grunted. "You can take it."

He fucked into you hard. Brutal. Like punishment. Like he was trying to tear you apart from the inside out and stitch you back together in his shape. You were moaning high pitched, snarling, begging under your breath.

God, that was the best of your life.

He grabbed your wrists, pinned them behind your back with one hand, his other braced on your lower back, pressing you flat to the counter. Every thrust knocked the air out of your lungs. His cock dragged against every overstimulated nerve, punishing and perfect.

"Ah— Fuck, please, Ja—!"

Jason grabbed your hair and pulled you back against him.

"What?" he muttered behind you, giving your cheek a wet kiss, hand tangled tight in your hair, tugging your head back hard enough to sting. "Runned out of jokes? Got nothing for me now?"

He fucked you until the slap of skin was louder than your ragged breathing, until your thighs were shaking and your voice was breaking. And you moaned happly, pressing back into him like the goddamn animal you were, desperately trying to fuck yourself on him.

Jason chuckled, his grip tightening for a second.

"Thought so."

©cybergoth1, 2025

#dc x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc comics #deadpool!reader

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plasticflowersinahistorycemetery · 3 months ago

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"are you trembling for god, or for me?"

part I

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Angel!Reader

Summary: Ben never thought he'd like innocence this much... he wants to see how far he can twist it.

Warnings: 18+!, Soldier Boy is a warning, language, corruption, religious reference, violence, innocence, smut (dirty talk, dry humping, corruption kink, praise kink), I may have missed some.

Word Count: 5,853

Ben hated waiting. Especially for those assholes.

The safehouse was hot, dusty, and stank of something sweet and rotten—probably whatever the last squatters left in the fridge. Or maybe MM's shitty protein shakes. He paced the living room like a caged dog, boots creaking on warped floorboards, jaw grinding as he chewed the inside of his cheek.

They were late.

Again.

And Butcher's last text—got somethin extra, stay fucking put!—wasn't helping.

He scoffed under his breath. "Better be a goddamn nuke."

Outside, gravel crunched under tires. Ben rolled his eyes and dropped onto the arm of the busted couch, leaning back with a sigh just as the door swung open.

Butcher came in first, blood on his sleeve and that usual sour look twisting his face. "Christ, that was a fuckin' mess," he grunted, tossing his gun onto the table. MM followed behind him, eyes sweeping the room with military precision. Hughie was limping. Kimiko had blood spattered across her cheek.

And then—

You.

Barefoot. Wrapped in someone else's coat—Hughie's, maybe. Your face was drawn, pale. You looked... wrong. Not in a monstrous way. Not like a supe. Just—

Fragile. Quiet. Too quiet.

Ben froze. The air changed. He sat up straighter as you crossed the threshold, your steps hesitant, like each one needed permission. You kept your arms close to your body, your fingers twitching like they weren't sure what to do without chains.

You didn't look at the others. You looked at him. And he stared back. Hard. But you didn't flinch. Didn't look away. You studied him. Wide eyes. Calm face. Like he was a puzzle to solve, not a weapon. Not a threat.

It unsettled him.

"What the fuck is that?" He muttered, voice low.

Butcher dropped into the nearest chair with a groan and unceremoniously cracked open a beer. "That," he said, nodding toward you, "is the reason this whole thing went sideways."

Ben didn't break eye contact. "Looks like a deer caught in a goddamn bear trap."

"Yeah, well, she's Vought's little secret. Kept her underground for—what'd Frenchie say—six years? Seven?" Butcher waved a hand. "Some angelic-class prototype. Supposed to be a healer. Maybe a nuke. Who the fuck knows."

"A what now?"

"Angelic. You know. Wings. Light. God complex. That kinda bollocks."

Ben scoffed. "You're kiddin'."

"Do I look like I'm in a joking fuckin' mood, cunt?"

He didn't respond. You were still staring at him.

And it wasn't scared. It wasn't reverent. It wasn't even curious. It was detached. Like you'd been dropped into a world that didn't make sense, and you were trying to find a shape in the noise. You looked at him like he was a radio station that kept cutting in and out.

Ben stood up slowly, letting the weight of his presence fill the room like smoke. He walked toward the kitchen, keeping you in his peripheral vision, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He popped the cap with his thumb and took a long, slow pull. Still, you watched him.

It wasn't until you spoke—soft, almost unsure—that something in him twitched.

"Are you the loud one?" You asked.

The room fell quiet.

Ben raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You're the one I heard. From the van. The heartbeat." Your voice was calm. Tired. "It was very loud."

Butcher chuckled darkly from the couch. "Told you. Fuckin' weird."

Ben didn't laugh. He took another swig of his beer, then turned his full attention to you. You didn't back down. Just tilted your head again. Like a bird listening for rain.

She's not scared of me, he thought. That's gonna change.

He meant to forget you. Really, he did.

Meant to write you off like the rest of the weird shit The Boys dragged back from the edge of hell. Meant to file you away as some broken Vought pet project—another fucked-up science experiment with glass bones and too much light behind the eyes.

But the thing was...

You didn't do anything. You just were.

You wandered the safehouse like a ghost in someone else's body. Always barefoot. Always quiet. You'd trail your fingers along the walls like you were feeling the pulse of the place. You watched the toaster with reverence. You flinched when someone raised their voice but never spoke up. You didn't eat much. Didn't sleep, either.

And Ben—who wasn't subtle, wasn't patient, wasn't nice—found himself watching.

At first, he told himself it was because you were a liability. A Vought ticking time bomb wrapped in soft skin and borrowed clothes. He was just being careful. Keeping an eye on you.

But then you tilted your head at him one morning—like you were listening to a song only you could hear—and smiled. And he knew he was fucked.

It was late afternoon now. Too hot. Too quiet.

He sat on the windowsill, one leg propped up, watching the hallway like it owed him something. The rest of the team were out getting supplies. He'd stayed behind to "rest." Translation: he didn't feel like playing nice.

And there you were.

Walking slowly down the hallway, your hand brushing the wall, bare feet whispering over the scuffed floor like you weren't sure gravity applied to you yet. You stopped in front of a painting—ugly, generic motel art in a fake gold frame—and stared at it for a long time.

Then you said, softly, "Why is that tree on fire?"

Ben blinked. "It's fall."

You turned, startled. Then you smiled like he'd said something kind.

"Oh. I thought it was a warning."

He stared at you.

Who the fuck talks like that?

You walked toward him slowly, like someone approaching a wounded animal. You weren't scared. You were just... careful. He didn't move. You stopped a few feet away, folding your hands in front of you.

"Do you like it here?" You asked. No context. No explanation.

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like someone who likes anything?"

You tilted your head again. That damn bird look. Thoughtful. Soft.

"You don't have to, you know."

He scoffed. "Don't have to what?"

"Pretend to be angry all the time. It makes your heart beat too hard."

What the fuck.

He stared at you like you'd grown a second head.

You smiled, barely. "I can feel it when it's too loud."

That made his jaw clench.

"You feelin' me right now, sweetheart?" He asked, voice low.

You paused. Then nodded. Softly. Innocently. "Always."

Ben looked away. He didn't trust what his body was doing. Not his breath. Not his pulse. Not the coil tightening low in his gut.

You weren't flirting. You weren't trying to get a rise out of him. That was the worst part. You didn't know. And that made him want to bite something in half.

Later, the sun dipped low, painting the walls of the safehouse in bruised orange and peeling gold. The shitty air conditioning buzzed overhead, doing a whole lot of nothing. Somewhere down the hall, Butcher was yelling about someone eating his last protein bar.

Ben ignored him.

You were in the living room, cross-legged on the carpet, watching the tiny TV like it held the secrets of the universe. Some rom-com flicker of mid-2000s sap, all fake city backdrops and orchestral swells when the guy finally realised the girl was his entire goddamn reason for breathing.

Ben stood in the doorway. Arms crossed. Shoulder leaned against the frame. Watching you watch the movie. He wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.

You tilted your head the same way you looked at everything—curious. Quiet. Like you didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so you settled somewhere in between. There was a half-eaten orange in your lap. Your fingers were sticky with juice.

Ben didn't think he'd ever seen someone look more out of place and more made for a moment all at once.

"You ever seen a movie before?" He asked gruffly.

You didn't look away from the screen. Just nodded.

"Do you like it?"

Another pause. Then: "I think it's nice." You said it like it meant something.

He huffed. "Romantic shit always look that dumb to you?"

You blinked. Then turned your head, slow and deliberate, to face him. Your eyes held no edge, no sarcasm—just a soft kind of interest.

"I don't think it's dumb," you said. "It seems kind."

Ben didn't answer. He didn't move. Something sharp twisted in his ribs. You held his gaze like it was easy. Like you didn't know what it meant to make a man like him look away first.

He clenched his jaw. Then, before he could stop himself:

"You ever been kissed, angel?"

You blinked again, slower this time. Like you had to process the question. Your mouth parted, just a little, and Ben's hands twitched at his sides.

"No," you said.

He swallowed.

"Why?" That word. Soft. Curious. Not defensive. Not shy. Just you.

Ben stared at you. He didn't answer. Didn't trust himself to.

You turned back to the screen, unfazed. Like the question hadn't meant anything. Like it didn't split something open inside him. As if he hadn't just hurled a brick through the stained-glass window of your innocence and expected you to thank him for it.

Ben stood there for another beat, staring at the slope of your neck, the curve of your cheek, the way your lips parted in thought like you were tasting the word kiss without knowing what it meant.

And just like that—no warning, no control—

He got hard.

No buildup. No fantasy. Just you. Sitting there barefoot and honest, asking why. He shifted where he stood, jaw tight, swallowing back a groan like it might choke him.

Jesus Christ.

He hadn't been that hard in years. Not even during the real thing. This wasn't lust. It wasn't even want. It was hunger.

He turned and left before he embarrassed himself. In the hallway, he braced a hand against the wall, breathing hard.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

But he already knew. You were untouched. And now, he was fucked.

Ben didn't talk to you the next day.

Didn't look at you, either—not directly. Not when you drifted into the kitchen with that quiet grace like your feet barely touched the floor. Not when you tilted your head at Frenchie's joke and laughed like you didn't understand it but wanted to, anyway. Not when you gently pressed your fingers to Kimiko's temple after a headache and the girl visibly relaxed in your hands.

He didn't look.

But he felt you.

Every time you were near, the air changed. Like something holy was crackling just under the skin of the world, threatening to tear it open.

Ben kept to himself. Grunted when spoken to. Smoked more than usual. Tried to convince himself it was nothing. Just another freak in a long line of freaks.

But then the call came in.

A low-level Vought squad spotted across the city—unregistered supes doing damage, maybe a trap, maybe just cleanup. The team loaded up. He didn't ask why you were coming along this time. No one did. You just went where they went.

That was your thing. You followed. Quiet. Soft.

Ben sat in the back of the van, bouncing his knee, jaw tight as you stared out the window beside him. You didn't ask where they were going. You didn't ask why. You just watched the city blur past like it was a painting you weren't allowed to touch.

He told himself he wasn't going to protect you. That if things went sideways, you'd be fine. You had power. You could handle yourself. And if you couldn't? Not his problem.

Not his fucking problem.

You reached the target building around dusk. Grey light bleeding into alleyways. Frenchie and MM took the left flank, Butcher and Kimiko circled right. Ben moved dead centre—no orders, no backup. Just fists and fury.

You stayed with Hughie near the van, hands folded in front of you, waiting like someone told you to stay put and you still believed in rules.

The first hit came fast.

One of the supe bastards barrelled out from behind a stack of crates and slammed into Ben like a goddamn freight train. He didn't go down. Just grunted, spit blood, and swung back. Another one tried to jump him from behind—missed. Kimiko caught that one midair and threw him straight through a van windshield.

Chaos. Sharp and sudden. Concrete echoing with grunts, gunfire, the static of suped-up comms.

Ben was in it—fully, brutally in it—until he heard it. You. Screaming. Not a human scream. Not fear. Not pain. Something higher.

He turned before he could stop himself.

You were surrounded. Three of them. Closing in fast. MM was too far, Butcher pinned behind debris, Hughie unarmed. And you—barefoot, bleeding, breath hitched in your throat—you looked so damn small.

But you didn't run.

You stepped between one of the attackers and Hughie like you were made of steel.

Ben's blood roared in his ears.

"HEY!" He bellowed, already moving, too late to get there in time.

And then it happened. You raised your hands—trembling, bloodied—and screamed again. The air warped around you. Not like an explosion. Like a miracle.

For a split second, the sky went white.

Your wings burst into view—not solid, not whole. Like smoke and sunlight caught in motion, burning at the edges. Feathered shadow outlined in divine fire. They didn't flap. They didn't stretch. They just existed—blooming behind you like vengeance and purity all at once.

And above your head, a flicker. A ring of gold. Not bright. Not clean. Holy.

Ben stopped moving. His heart slammed into his ribs like it was trying to break out.

You moved faster than he thought you could—one hand out, a pulse of something unseen knocking one of the supes back twenty feet. Another charged and you touched him, palm to chest, and he dropped like a stone, eyes rolling back.

You turned to the last attacker, and for the first time, Ben saw your face twisted with something real. Rage. Sorrow. A divine kind of devastation.

Your halo pulsed brighter. Your wings burned.

And Ben didn't duck in time.

One of the remaining bastards clipped him hard from the side—a pipe or maybe a bat, he didn't see. Pain exploded across his ribs. He hit the ground with a curse, teeth clenched, vision blurring.

The fight blurred around him. Distant shouting. A body hitting the pavement. Concrete under his palms.

And then—

You. Kneeling beside him like you'd always been there.

Your hands hovered, unsure. "Ben," you whispered. "Ben, you're hurt." Your voice shook. You were crying.

He blinked up at you, his vision stuttering over the faint gleam above your head, the scorched shimmer of light curling behind your shoulders. Your wings were fading, flickering, like the moment was too much for the world to hold.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," he growled—weak, hoarse.

You didn't listen. You pressed your hands to his ribs. Light flared. Warmth poured through him—sweet and golden and goddamn unbearable. Not just healing. Not just power.

Pleasure.

His breath caught. His back arched. His hips twitched. He groaned. Loud. Rough. From the pit of his stomach, and your eyes fluttered open—wide, startled.

"Did I hurt you?"

Jesus.

He grabbed your wrist, holding you there.

"The fuck was that?"

You looked at him, confused. Tears still drying on your cheeks. "I made you better." Like it was that simple. Like you didn't just make him feel reborn. When you tried to pull your hand back, he didn't let you. You didn't fight it. You just tilted your head and waited.

She made me feel clean. I'm gonna ruin her.

He didn't sleep that night. Couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, it was your face. Your hands. The way your breath hitched when you healed him. The way your wings shivered before they flickered out. The way your halo burned like a gold ring above your head for a single, impossible heartbeat.

He swore he could still feel it. Your light. Inside him. Like warmth crawling under his skin, coating his bones, cleansing him. He hated it. He needed it again.

So when morning came and the others went out—supply run, recon, something he didn't give a shit about—he stayed behind.

Alone. With you.

It started in the hallway. Ben leaned hard against the wall, one hand pressed to his chest, brow furrowed. His breath came in slow, heavy drags. You found him like that. Quiet footsteps. The faint sound of your inhale as you saw him slouched against the wood paneling like something was wrong.

"Ben?"

Your voice was so gentle it made his fists clench.

He looked up slowly, gritting his teeth like he was in pain. "Heart," he rasped. "It's—fuck—beatin' too hard again."

You stepped forward instantly. No hesitation. Just soft urgency.

"I can help you," you whispered. "Let me—"

He caught your wrist, gently this time. Played the part. Scared. Shaky. Broken.

"Need you," he muttered. "You're the only thing that helps."

And God help him, he meant it.

You laid your hand over his chest, and his body lit up like a fucking altar. That golden calm sank into him again—cool and thick, like honey sliding down his throat, like blood being replaced with grace.

He groaned. Low. Unfiltered.

You froze.

"Is that better?" You asked, confused.

He didn't answer.

He watched your lips. The way your mouth moved when you said his name. He stared at your lashes, how they fluttered when you concentrated. He watched your throat work when you swallowed.

And then he said it. He had to.

"You ever think about how that feels?" He asked.

Your brows knit in confusion. "How what feels?"

"Touchin' me like that. Helpin' me." He leaned in. "You ever wonder if it feels good because you want it to?"

You blinked. "I don't—" You looked down at your hand still pressed to his chest. "I just... I want you to feel safe."

He chuckled, dark and low.

"Sweetheart," he said, "I haven't felt safe a day in my life." He leaned in, brushing his lips near your ear, not quite touching. Close enough to taste your breath. "But you made me feel somethin'," he whispered.

You made me feel clean. So I'm gonna make you dirty.

"I think you like it," he said next, voice gravel and sin. "I think part of you likes makin' me feel good."

You pulled back a little, eyes wide. "That's not what I meant."

He smirked. "You keep touchin' me like that, and I'm not gonna be the only one makin' noise next time."

You blinked, visibly thrown. "Noise?"

His smirk widened.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "You really don't know what I'm sayin', do you?"

"I..." You trailed off. "I'm just trying to help."

Ben's tongue slid over his teeth. He took your wrist again, slower this time. Measured. Possessive.

"I know," he said. And then—just to twist the knife—"Come on, angel. Be good and calm me down again."

It was unbearable. Watching you. Every goddamn day. Still barefoot. Still soft-spoken. Still moving through the safehouse like a half-remembered dream.

You didn't flinch when you passed him in the hall. You didn't look away when he stared too long. You didn't snap, or scold, or blush—not even when his words started getting sharp around the edges.

He'd corner you in the kitchen just to see if you'd squirm. You didn't. He'd make jokes that would turn anyone else red. You'd just blink. Smile. Ask if he needed help. And every time, it got harder to breathe.

He wanted to snap his fingers and watch you shatter.

This time, you were leaning over the counter, slicing an apple with one of Frenchie's knives. Your fingers worked slow, careful. Your wings hadn't shown since the skirmish, but Ben kept watching for them anyway. Like maybe they'd twitch when he said the right thing. Like maybe they'd flare when you finally cracked.

He stepped into the kitchen, heavy boots echoing against the tile. You looked up. That same serene expression. That maddening stillness.

"Whatcha makin', sweetheart?"

You held up the apple. "It's fruit."

"No shit," he muttered.

You tilted your head. "Would you like some?"

"No," he said. "I don't want anythin' sweet."

You blinked. Confused again. He stepped closer. Slow. Deliberate. Stopped just a few inches from where you stood, close enough that your elbow brushed his chest when you moved. You didn't even react.

He leaned down, voice low, thick, like honey slathered over gunmetal.

"You gonna keep pretending you don't know what I'm sayin'?"

You turned toward him. Wide-eyed. "What do you mean?"

He grinned, sharp and dangerous. "I mean, you keep actin' like you don't feel it."

"Feel... what?"

He laughed. "Jesus. You're serious."

You frowned, and for the first time, he saw a crack—tiny, delicate, like hairline glass in your expression.

He took it and twisted.

"You know what happens to good little angels like you?" He asked, voice dropping. "The world eats 'em alive. Chews 'em up. Spits 'em out in pieces."

You stared. Said nothing. He leaned in, mouth near your ear.

"But not me," he whispered. "I'd worship you while I ruined you."

Your breath hitched. Tiny. Barely there. But he heard it. He pulled back just enough to see your eyes. Still soft. Still confused. Still unbroken.

"Don't play innocent, angel," he said. "You touch me like you've already chosen."

You shook your head. "I was only trying to help. You said your heart—"

He grabbed your wrist again, same one he always reached for. Fit like a fucking habit now.

"You keep givin' yourself away like that," he said, "and someone's gonna take it the wrong way."

He waited. Waited for fear. For a flinch.

Instead, you just blinked. "Would that be wrong?"

Ben's grip tightened. He turned away before he did something stupid.

You don't get it. And I don't know if I want to teach you or just watch you fall.

He started doing it on purpose after that. The episodes. The short breath. The clutching his chest. The tension under his skin, real or faked—it didn't matter. Because you always came running. Like the good little angel you were.

This time, it was past midnight. The safehouse was quiet. Everyone else out or asleep. Ben was sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, shirt undone, head tilted back, breathing shallow as the phantom ache in his chest throbbed like it knew your name.

He didn't have to wait long.

Your footsteps were light. Barely there. You stepped into the kitchen with that same wide-eyed calm, your hands already glowing before you even spoke.

"Is it happening again?" You whispered, already close.

Ben didn't speak. Didn't nod. Just looked at you through half-lidded eyes and said, "Help me."

You stepped between his knees, one hand on his chest, the other hovering just below his ribs. And when your power touched him—when that divine warmth bloomed inside him—his eyes rolled back.

He exhaled like it hurt. Like it ruined him.

"F-fuck..."

Your eyes snapped up. "Did I—?"

"Keep goin'," he growled.

You swallowed. Nodded. Let more of yourself pour into him. And it hit him again—hot this time. Like liquid sunlight. Like his nerves were singing hymns and bleeding at the same time. He groaned—and not quiet.

Your hand twitched. You didn't pull away. Ben opened his eyes. You looked flushed. Maybe it was the light. Maybe it was him. He smiled. Slow. Predatory.

"You like that," he said.

Your head jerked. "What?"

"You like touchin' me. You pretend it's just healing, but you keep comin' back." He leaned in closer. "You keep givin' me this." His hand covered yours. Pressed it harder against his chest. "You could stop anytime you wanted. But you don't."

"I... I just don't want you to be in pain."

He chuckled. "I'm always in pain, angel. You're just the first thing that ever made it feel good."

You blinked. Tried to look away. He didn't let you. He caught your chin, tilted your face back to his.

"I make noise every time you touch me. You notice that?"

"I..." Your voice shook.

"Bet you never heard a man moan like that before."

Silence.

Ben leaned in. "I could make you sound like that."

You blinked—horrified or curious, he couldn't tell. He hoped for both.

"I could make you scream so loud your halo'd crack in half," he whispered.

Your mouth parted, and finally, finally your breath stuttered. He felt it. That little flicker of your pulse under his fingers. He grinned.

Bingo.

Slow. Shaky. "I... I think that's enough for now," you said. You started pulling your hand back. He didn't let you.

"Uh-uh. Not yet," he said, voice low, rough around the edges. "Feels too fuckin' good to quit now."

Your eyes flicked up, a little unsure. But you stayed. Of course you stayed.

"You ever felt this before?" He asked, his fingers curling tighter around your wrist. "The way it heats up when you touch me? Like your whole goddamn body's tryin' to tell you somethin'?"

"I... I'm just trying to calm you—"

"Yeah?" He leaned in. "Well, newsflash, sweetheart—this ain't calm. This is fuckin' divine."

You blinked up at him, confused. And then you made the sound. A whimper. Soft. Involuntary. Like it slipped out before your brain caught it.

Ben went still.

You looked down. Right at yourself. And fuck—his dick twitched hard enough to hurt. Your brows pulled in. Your hand drifted lower. Palm over your stomach. Down. Your thighs pressed together.

And Ben watched, breath shallow. You looked back up at him like you were scared of your own skin.

Holy fuck. She doesn't even know what the hell that is. And I'm the one who woke it up.

"You feel that?" He asked, voice rasped and wrecked. "That little throb between your legs?"

You nodded. Small. Scared. Curious. "I think something's... wrong."

Ben let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "Wrong?" He muttered. "Oh, angel. That's the best goddamn part."

He stepped closer, towering over you.

"That?" He pointed lazily at your hips. "That's your body sayin' thank you."

You swallowed, wide-eyed.

"It's me," he added. "I did that."

Another whimper. Fucking perfect. He wanted to throw you on the counter and make you scream until the light burned out of your eyes—but he didn't. Not yet.

"Don't worry," he said, voice soft now. Dangerous. "We'll figure it out."

Your lashes fluttered. You nodded. Like you trusted him. And that? That was the most fucked-up thing of all.

Ben heard the knock and already knew it was you. Soft. Three little taps. Barely there. He didn't answer right away. Just let it sit. Let the silence stretch. Let you wonder if he was asleep or ignoring you or worse—until finally, he grunted:

"Yeah."

The door creaked open. You stepped inside like you were crossing holy ground. Ben was sprawled across his bed, shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips, one hand behind his head, the other resting across his abs. He didn't bother sitting up. You just stood there. Barefoot. In one of Hughie's oversized hoodies again. Looking down. Looking unsure.

He kept his voice low.

"What's up, angel?"

You hesitated. Then closed the door behind you.

"I... I didn't know where else to go."

He sat up at that. His eyes dragged down your legs. Back up. You looked wrecked—not in the usual way. Not scared. Not hurt. Just... overwhelmed. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"Talk to me."

You shifted on your feet. Clasped your hands together like you were about to pray. "It happened again," you whispered.

His head tilted. "What did?"

You glanced up at him, almost afraid to say it. Then: "The... the ache. That throb."

Ben's mouth went dry.

You kept going. "I thought maybe it was just when I touch people, but I wasn't healing anyone. I wasn't even near anyone." You paused. Swallowed. "I was just... thinking about you."

His heart slammed against his ribs.

You looked down at yourself again, thighs squeezing together like you were ashamed. "And now it's worse," you whispered. "Now I'm looking at you and it's worse."

Ben exhaled through his nose. Tried to keep his voice steady.

"C'mere."

You blinked.

He patted the bed beside him. "Sit."

You obeyed without question. Slipped onto the mattress, still not looking at him. Ben watched you closely. You were flushed. Your breath came shallow. Your hands curled into fists in your lap.

"You don't know what to do with it," he said, voice low, almost kind.

You shook your head. "I don't even know what it is. Just that it... it hurts. But not like pain."

"It's not pain," he murmured. "It's want."

Your breath caught. He leaned in, slow, voice dropping to a gravel whisper.

"You ever touched yourself?"

You blinked. "I—what?"

He smirked. "Guess that's a no."

You looked away, embarrassed.

Ben's voice softened—not out of mercy. Out of calculation.

"It's okay, angel. Ain't your fault. You're new to all this. Whole world's been keepin' you wrapped in glass." He reached over. His fingers ghosted over your thigh, just enough to make you twitch. "But you came to the right fuckin' place."

You turned back to him. Eyes wide. Lips parted.

He grinned.

"You think I don't love that it was me?" He asked, voice rough with need. "That it's me you think about when it starts? That it's my voice in your head when your thighs start squeezin' together and you don't know why?"

You whimpered. Just a little. And Ben's whole body tensed.

Fuck me. She's gonna come apart and I ain't even touchin' her.

He brought his mouth closer to your ear.

"You wanna feel better?"

You nodded.

"You wanna learn?"

Your breath shook. "Yes."

He smiled against your cheek.

"Good girl."

You were squirming now. Sitting on his bed, knees drawn up under that borrowed hoodie, hands clasped so tight your knuckles had gone pale. Every few seconds your thighs twitched together like you were trying to hold something in.

Ben watched. Every breath. Every shift. Every desperate little tremble. His cock throbbed, heavy in his sweats, but he didn't move. Didn't touch you. He was too busy watching you unravel.

Come on, sweetheart. Fall.

You looked at him, eyes glassy. "I don't know what to do," you whispered.

He tilted his head. "Yeah, you do."

Your mouth parted. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice low and mean.

"You came here."

You nodded, almost guilty.

"You're sittin' there all hot and achey, thinkin' about me, and you came here."

"I just thought maybe—"

"—I could make it go away?" He finished for you, grinning. "That it'd stop if you let me touch you?"

Your breath hitched. Ben's grin faded. His voice dropped.

"No, baby. It doesn't stop. It starts."

You whimpered. Just a little. But your thighs pressed tight and you rocked forward slightly—so innocent you didn't even realise you were grinding down against the tension.

Ben exhaled through his nose like it hurt.

"You want me to help you?"

You nodded.

"Say it."

Your brows drew together. "What?"

"Say you want it."

You shook your head—nervous. "I don't know what I'm asking for."

He reached out. Ran his knuckles over your knee. "You want me to teach you?" He asked, voice low. "Wanna learn how to touch yourself right?"

Your lips parted again. Slow. Breath shaky. "Yes."

Ben's cock twitched hard.

Fuck. That's it. That's the sound. She's never said that word like that before. Never meant it like that.

He patted his thigh. "C'mere."

You crawled into his lap like it was instinct.

He adjusted you with firm hands—one on your hip, one around your waist—settling you over his thighs. Your hoodie bunched up as you straddled him, and he nearly groaned at the heat bleeding off you.

He didn't touch you where you wanted. Just leaned in.

"Okay," he whispered against your cheek. "Let's start small."

He took your wrist. Brought your own hand to your belly.

"Lower."

You slid it down.

"Little more."

You swallowed. Obeyed.

Ben's voice dropped to a gravelly murmur. "Feel that pulse right there? That little throb you keep cryin' about?"

Your fingers twitched. You nodded.

"Press. Gentle. Just hold it."

You did. Your breath shook.

Ben's mouth nearly touched your ear now.

"Good girl."

You whimpered. Louder. And then, your wings flickered into view behind you. Not full. Not glowing. Just flickering. Like the light inside you was trying to escape.

Ben nearly lost it.

Holy fuck. She's lighting up just from her own hand. Just from my voice. She's mine.

"Now rub," he whispered. "Slow. In circles. Just like that."

You bit your lip. "Feels weird," you breathed.

"That's good, sweetheart. That's your body learnin'."

You kept going. Small motions. Breathless. And Ben? Ben was smiling. Watching purity fracture in real time. Watching you come to life. One little touch at a time.

You were trembling in his lap like your body wasn't sure it belonged to you anymore. One hand buried beneath the hem of that borrowed hoodie. The other fisted into the collar of his shirt like you needed something to hold onto or else you'd drift away.

Ben sat back against the headboard, legs spread, letting you straddle his thigh with all the slow grace of a sinner crawling toward salvation. You didn't even know what you were doing—and that? That was what made it perfect.

You weren't trying to grind down on him. Wasn't deliberate. Wasn't dirty.

It was instinct. Need. Your hips rolled in these shallow, searching little movements that made his pulse hammer behind his teeth. And you kept murmuring tiny things—"I'm sorry," and "I don't know why," and "It's so hot"—like you thought you were confessing.

Like he'd ever fucking forgive you.

He could feel the heat through his sweats. Radiating off you. Soaking into him. Your thighs trembled every time his voice dipped low, every time he told you "just like that, sweetheart" or "keep rubbin', you're doin' so fuckin' good."

It was working.

God, it was working.

He could feel you—glowing faint under your skin. Light like static trapped in flesh, flickering in bursts. Your breath coming in high, desperate little gasps like you didn't know if you were allowed to make noise.

She's gonna fucking break. She's gonna fall apart with her hand on her cunt and my name in her mouth and she won't even know what hit her.

And then it happened.

That sound.

A moan—real, full, unfiltered. It cracked right out of you like something ancient finally getting free. Soft and wet and so fucking pure it nearly brought him to his knees.

Ben gritted his teeth. His hand moved—instinctual—down to cover yours, guiding your fingers harder, tighter, lower.

"Yeah, baby," he rasped, voice thick with reverence. "You're right there. You feel that?"

You nodded, whimpering. And then—you froze. All at once. Like you'd been caught in a spotlight. Your hand jerked back from under the hoodie like it was burning you. Your thighs snapped shut so fast they slapped against his.

Your eyes were wide. Panicked.

"I—I can't—" You shook your head, voice ragged. "I can't do this. I'm sorry."

Ben blinked. Not angry. Not shocked. Just still. You pulled back, trying to climb out of his lap like you were filthy, like you'd broken something sacred, but he didn't let you go. Not rough. Not forceful. Just firm. Grounded.

"Hey." His voice dropped into something soft. Something careful. But never kind. "You're okay."

You didn't look at him. Your halo flickered behind your shoulder like a candle caught in wind. "I felt something," you whispered. "It was building and it felt—wrong. Too big."

Ben stared.

You were still glowing. Still lit up in that faint, holy shimmer. You were divine like this—flushed and shaking in his lap, eyes wet with something like shame.

She was so fuckin' close. So fuckin' perfect. She doesn't even know what that would've felt like. And I would've been the first.

You breathed like you were trying not to cry. "I couldn't stop it," you said. "I didn't want to but I did—"

He reached up. Brushed your jaw with the backs of his fingers.

"Angel," he murmured. "That? That's what your body's built for."

Your eyes found his. Blown wide. Searching. Terrified.

"Don't you dare apologise for that."

You swallowed.

"But I don't understand it."

"I know. And that's what makes it so fuckin' beautiful." He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. Breathing you in. "You want me to stop, I'll stop," he whispered. "But don't lie to me. Don't lie to yourself."

You nodded, breath stuttering. Ben pulled you in. Wrapped his arms around you, cradled you against his chest like you were something holy he'd just dragged out of heaven and didn't want to drop. Your halo pulsed once. Dim. And then disappeared. You stayed there. Still glowing under the skin. Still his. Still trembling.

And all he could think—over and over, as his hand curved around the back of your neck and you finally sighed against him—was:

Next time, you're not stopping. Next time, you're gonna see God. And it's gonna be me.

a/n: AHHHHH. Okay, I couldn't help myself, I had to post the first part. I've got the next two parts written up and ready to go, I just don't wanna post them until I've finished up the last two instalments. I'm so excited for you guys to find out what happens. Let me know what you think please!! And if you like it, then you can all thank @tinas111 because this was her idea, I'm just doing the writing, hehehe. All the love.

Soldier Boy/Ben taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah. @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @bittersweetfig @lyarr24 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @ohgodimgoungtodie @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids @sacr1ficialang3l @kaz-2y5-spn @bitchykittenconnoisseur <3

#pfiahc writes #my writing #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x fem!reader #the boys fanfiction #the boys x you #the boys x female reader #the boys x reader #the boys smut #the boys fanfic

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ariestrxsh · 9 months ago

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sub!virgin!matt x neighbor!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, innocence corruption, religious/purity kink, masturbation, dry humping, mommy kink, use of sex toys

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: while beginning to open up to you and trust you more, matt decides to loosen his morals and test the waters with you, exploring the sacrilegious world of mind-altering substances and pre-marital sex

the whole basis of this series is that matt is a pure little christian boy whose innocence gets corrupted by his dommy mommy neighbor, and it may offend you if you're religious, so please don't read if it's going to upset you! 💖

dividers by @/anitalenia

Me & U

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 |

Later that evening, after the two of you cleaned yourselves up along with the remnants of paint-covered plastic that was scattered about Matt's bedroom, you and Matt decided to go up to your treehouse to watch the sunset descend below the horizon. He followed you through your gate and up the rope ladder to your treehouse. You rolled and lit up another joint.

While Matt was still reserved, you could feel him opening up to you and becoming more comfortable in your presence, and you liked that. Matt sprawled out on his back on the wooden floor and watched a cloud of smoke escape your lips and dance around the atmosphere before being sucked out of the treehouse window. "Why do you like to smoke?" Matt wondered aloud. "Same reason you like to masturbate," you smirked at him.

"What's it feel like to be high?" He wondered, watching you take another puff. "Well, it's kind of hard to explain. It makes you feel all weightless and airy, and it feels good. Sometimes it makes you giggle a lot or get the munchies," you relayed to him. "I-I think I want to try it," Matt admitted, looking up at you from his reclined position. You raised your eyebrows at him.

"Are you sure? Why?" You pondered, narrowing your gaze at him, curious as to what changed his mind between today and the day before. "Well, I've been thinking about what you said the other day about caffeine being a mind-altering drug, and I have caffeine almost every day," Matt told you. "So, I feel like I'm not being very consistent if I refuse to try a drug just because it's a drug when I drink coffee," he told you.

"Okay, I'm just letting you know now, it's going to affect you way more than coffee," you responded. "Hit me with it," Matt confidently said. "If you say so," you smirked at him. He went to reach for the joint, but instead of passing it to him, you took this opportunity to climb on top of him and straddle him. Matt stared in awe at your confidence, and he immediately grew hard beneath you.

"Just inhale when I blow it out," you directed him, taking a drag. You took both Matt's wrists and pinned them above his head, making sure not to burn him with the cherry of your joint. You leaned down and slowly blew the smoke into Matt's slightly parted lips, brushing yours against his. He moaned against you while you gently kissed him after you exhaled into his mouth.

You pulled away, realeasing his wrists but still straddling him. You watched as he breathed out the smoke and started violently coughing, covering his face with his elbow. "You okay?" You asked him, and he nodded, but he was still choking on the smoke, and tears started welling in his eyes.

"Here, sit up. I'm going to go get you a glass of water and some snacks for when you start feeling it," you responded, climbing off of him and helping him to a sitting position. "I'll be right back," you whispered, rubbing his back before climbing down your rope ladder.

Matt wiped away the tears that had formed after he'd stopped couging, and he peered up at the sunset straight ahead and admired the way the orange and pink shades bled into each other. He could see why you liked to spend so much time here, and he felt honored that you were willing to share such a sacred space with him.

It wasn't sacred to him in the way that church was, but he could tell it held that quality to you. This was your church. It was a place you went to find peace and quiet, a space where you'd sort out your feelings, and a safe haven where you could go enjoy the simple pleasures life had to offer.

He felt the lightness in his body from the marijuana, and he calmly waited until you were climbing back up the rope ladder. "Here," you said, extending the glass of water to him. He gazed down in awe at it, enthralled by the life-giving elixir you were handing him. "Wow," he whispered, looking at it wide-eyed.

"Are you going to take it?" You giggled, raising an eyebrow at him. "Oh, yeah. Sorry," he said, taking the glass from you and beginning to drink it. "This is the most amazing cup of water I've ever had," Matt replied, gulping more of it down while you pulled all the snacks you'd brought him out of a bag. "Here, I brought you some funyuns, some chocolate-covered pretzels, some sour candy, some beef jerky, a sandwich, and a root beer. Eat as much as you want," you told him, smiling at him and laying them out in front of him.

"You know, you're the nicest girl I've ever met," Matt smiled at you with his glazed over expression while he went to grab the bag of funyuns and the root beer. "Nicest? I don't know if I've ever gotten that compliment before," you snorted, well-aware that you were an abrasive and overbearing kind of person, and people didn't usually use the word nice to describe you.

"You're also the prettiest girl I've ever met," Matt told you with a mouthful of funyuns. You blushed and smiled. "You're the most handsome boy I've ever met," you returned the compliment, tapping him on the nose with the tip of your finger. "How do you feel, handsome boy?" You asked Matt, who was taking a sip of his soda. "I think I feel pretty high," he peered over at you with heavy eyelids, and you giggled. "You look pretty high."

"You know, you're like a fairy. You live in your little treehouse, and you have your elixirs and your potions," Matt stared lovingly at you. "A fairy? That's generous. I'm more like a gnome or a troll," you chuckled. "No. To me, you're a fairy," Matt grinned at you.

"Oh man. My dad is going to be expecting me home for dinner soon, but I can't let him see me like this," Matt said in a concerned voice, snapping back to reality. "Don't worry. Let's send him a text and tell him you're having dinner with my mom and me tonight," you suggested, holding out your palm for him to offer up his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and placed it in your hand.

"Hey, dad. I'm staying for dinner at the neighbor girl's house. I'll be home in a couple of hours," you read out loud while you typed. "Don't forget to say I love you. My dad and I always tell each other that at the end of conversations," Matt muttered to you with his mouth full, dipping his hand into the bag of chocolate-covered pretzels.

"Of course you guys do," you replied with a twinge of jealousy in your voice as you finished typing out the text. "Don't your mom and dad tell you they love you?" He asked. "I mean, yeah. Just not all that often," you replied, lighting up the joint again. "But it's fine. I don't need that," you responded, avoiding eye contact and shrugging.

Matt could tell that under your tough persona that there was a softness to you. "Well, I'd tell you that every day," Matt smiled at you while he crunched pretzels between his teeth. "Are you saying you love me?" You widened your eyes at him, taking one of the chocolate-covered pretzels out of the bag Matt was holding.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I haven't known you for long, but if our next interaction is never promised, which it never is, I'd want you to know I love you," Matt replied, smiling at you. "I love you, too, Matt Sturniolo," you replied, taking another drag.

You weren't a very soft person. In fact, you'd worked to become as stoic and unreadable as possible, but there was something about Matt that softened you, melted your heart, and made it easy for you to let your guard down around him.

"You know, being high makes me kind of horny," your eyes flicked up at Matt's, and you deviously grinned at him. "What are you going to do about it?" Matt gave you a serious look, almost as if challenging you. You raised a brow in his direction. You loved it when Matt egged you on.

You silently crawled over towards him, still holding your lit joint, and you put your legs on either side of his, straddling him again. You leaned down and whispered into his ear. "What I'm gonna do about it is fuck you so good. Give you the kind of pussy you won't mind going to hell for," your warm breath tickled his earlobe.

Matt whimpered at your words, and you felt his cock twitch against your clothed cunt. "But not tonight," you teased him, pulling back and gazing at him. You could tell in his facial expression that he was intimidated by you, but you could also see a craving in his blue eyes. "W-why not tonight?" Matt innocently asked, somewhat disappointed.

"The first lesson in sex is don't ever underestimate the power of the anticipation leading up to the act," you responded in a low, seductive voice, beginning to roll your hips against Matt's while you held eye contact.

A million thoughts were racing through Matt's mind. He knew he shouldn't be letting you rub up against his lap like that, and he knew he shouldn't be smoking weed, but there he was, high as a kite as you were grinding on him and he loved every second of it. He let out a soft whine as you shifted your weight around on him. "You can touch me, you know," you whispered to him, taking a drag off your joint. He was taken aback. Of course, he wanted to, but he wasn't sure if he knew how.

His hands hesitantly wandered until they were on your waist, and he initiated a kiss, brushing his nose against yours and tilting your head towards his. His lips clumsily crashed into yours while you continued riding him. He whimpered against your mouth, your tongue begging for entrance into his. His wandering hands soon curiously traveled to your ass. "Is this okay?" He timidly asked, pulling away from the kiss, and you slowly nodded at him, smiling.

You could feel him hardening beneath you as you teased him. You couldn't deny how good it felt, and with every rock of your hips, you both let out a satisfied moan. He squeezed your bottom as he started nearing his orgasm. You loved how simple it was and how responsive he was to your every touch. "Please don't stop," he managed to get out in the midst of his pleasure. "I wouldn't dream of it," you responded in a dreamy voice, rutting up against his member.

His head fell back and made a quiet thump as it hit the wall of your treehouse, and he let out a loud, needy groan. You peered down in awe at the wet spot on the front of his jeans, realizing you'd made him cum again without even directly touching him. "Wow. That was easy," you told him, nibbling on your lip while you hungrily stared into his bedroom eyes. "That was amazing," Matt told you, catching his breath.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

The next morning, you groggily stumbled out of bed, reminiscing on the night before and the way you and Matt had shared such an intimate moment together. You still couldn't believe he had chosen to get high with you. Matt had waited until his dad had fallen asleep before sneaking back into his house, still stoned from having smoked several hours before. Luckily, he'd made it inside without having to face him.

You reluctantly dragged yourself from your cozy bed and started getting ready for work. You hadn't been awake for long when your phone start buzzing against your dresser. When you peered down at the screen, you saw it was Matt calling. "Hey you," you smiled into the phone, rifling through the mess of clothes in your closet.

"Hey. Sorry to bother you. I just saw your light come on in your room, and I was wondering what you were doing up so early," Matt said, sitting at his desk and taking a sip of his morning coffee. "Are you spying on me?" You jokingly accused him, peering out of your window into his room. "Yeah, whatever. You spied on me first," Matt waved to you from his desk chair.

"The green fits you so well," you told Matt, admiring the new paint on his walls. "Thanks," he smiled. "My shift starts in like 45 minutes, so I'm begrudgingly getting dressed. Look away," you replied, pulling down your pajama bottoms while you glanced back at Matt across the way. "What happens if I don't?" Matt asked, unable to take his eyes off you and the way you looked standing in your underwear, gazing back at him. "Then Jesus will know!" You teased him. He rolled his eyes and chuckled into the phone.

"What are you doing?" You asked him, slipping out of your panties. "Just having some coffee and journaling. Oh, and getting like, the world's hottest striptease," he replied, watching you still. "Sounds hot. Coffee sounds so good right now. Well, I should really finish getting ready, but I'd love to hang out after my shift. I'm off at 3 p.m.," you responded, pulling on a pair of jean shorts.

"Sure. Maybe I'll come see you at work," he told you. "Yeah? What are you looking to buy a pocket pussy or something from me?" You teased him. "Only if you sell me on one," he joked. "I'll catch you later, Matt," you giggled into the phone before you hung up. You took off your top and peered back over at Matt who was still visible in your window. You winked and walked out of view, stepping deeper into your closet.

A few hours into your shift, you were reorganizing some of the lingerie when your coworker Carly nudged you. "Isn't that the guy you came in here with the other day?" You glanced up to see Matt walking into the shop, holding a frozen caramel coffee in his hand. He gave you that same shy smile and gentle wave as the first day you'd met him. You made your way over to him, smiling from ear to ear.

"Awh, Matt. Did you bring me a coffee?" You asked, motioning at the drink in his hand. "Yeah," he said, handing it off to you. "Also, this is embarrassing.." he started to say, lowering his voice. "What's up?" You tilted your head, looking at him sympathetically. "I'm here for more than just to see you and bring you a coffee," Matt blushed. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, picking up on what he was trying to say.

"Are you here as a customer?" You wondered out loud. "Look, I've never done this before. But can you give me a recommendation?" Matt quietly asked, his eyes darting around the shop as if he were worried about seeing someone he knew. "This is so hot. I can't believe I get to help you pick out your first sex toy!" You practically shouted, turning heads and drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the vicinity. Matt shushed you while blood rushed to his cheeks.

"Not if you're gonna embarrass me," Matt mumbled, hiding his face. "Matt, everyone who's in here is here for their sexual needs. Why would they be judging you?" You rolled your eyes, smiling at him and grabbing him by the hand. You pulled him over to the men's sex toy section.

"Unfortunately, there aren't quite as many options for men, but are you looking for like a cock ring or a fleshlight? Maybe a butt plug?" You asked, picking one up and dangling it in his face. "Uh, no. I think that's a little advanced for me," Matt giggled, taking it out of your hand and putting it back down. "Just pick me out something that's not too weird."

"Well, Matt, weird is subjective," you responded, grinning at how flustered he was. He rolled his eyes, still blushing. "I think I know what you should get. Follow me," you responded, leading him down the aisle. "Now, I'm not a man, so I can't tell you from personal experience how good this one is, but it has great reviews on our website," you told him, picking up a packaged fleshlight and putting it in his hand. "The inside of it is really textured and made of a really soft material. A lot of men say that if you use lube, it feels almost as good as actual sex."

"Well, I wouldn't know," Matt rubbed the back of his neck, nervously laughing. "Well, when we inevitably fuck, you can tell me how true that is," you whispered into his ear. "Anyway, it's really discreet, and according to a lot of male customers we have, it feels really good," you told him. He stared at you needily and nodded as you told him about it, still hung up on the comment about the two of you inevitably having sex.

"Let's get you some lube and some toy cleaner, too," you smiled at him, leading the way towards the front. You gave him the rundown on how to clean it and store it, and you bagged everything up for him. "Here you go," you said, smiling at Matt and handing it over to him. "Don't I need to pay for it?" Matt inquired. "No, I'll pay for it later. That way I can use my employee discount," you told him. "That's sweet of you. You don't have to do that," Matt replied.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to. The only rule is, you can't use it on yourself until I get off shift," you bit your lip at him. "That's like four hours from now," he pouted at you. "Be a good boy and wait until mommy gets home, okay?" You whispered, looking into his eyes. "Okay, fine," Matt huffed at you.

"Oh, hey, pretty boy. You decide to come back and get something for yourself?" Carly appeared out of nowhere. Matt timidly looked at her and slowly nodded. "That's hot. You have to come back and tell us how good it made you feel," your coworker seductively looked him up and down while she chewed on her lip. He nodded again.

"I'll see you later, Matt," you told him before he left the shop. "I don't know what you did to that boy, but he's under your spell," Carly smirked at you before wandering off to another part of the store.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Matt had already been playing heavily on your mind since you'd met him, but by the time you clocked out, all you could think about was how he would look and sound while using his new fleshlight.

When you got home, you took a shower, washed the day from your skin, and slipped into a comfortable over-sized shirt. You called up Matt while you were standing in your bedroom, gazing through your window at the cute boy laying in his bed. "Hey," he answered the phone, trying not to sound too excited, looking back at you.

"I have a weird request," you nibbled on your lip. "What is it?" Matt wondered. "I want to watch you use your new toy from here," you nervously replied, smirking as the words left your mouth. "At least you asked this time," Matt teased you, smiling at you. "And if you could stay on the phone with me while you use it, I'd really like that," you admitted.

"That would be really hot," Matt responded. "You haven't used it yet, have you, baby?" You cooed. "No, I've been a really good boy," he needily replied. He started slowly unzipping his jeans, and you could see it through the window and hear it through the phone.

He pulled out his aching cock and reached for the lube you'd recommended to him earlier. You heard him pop the lid open, and you could hear his soft groans as he applied it. He already had his fleshlight within reach like he was waiting to be able to use it.

"Good boy. Why don't you put it in?" You suggested in a seductive whisper. "Yes, mommy," he obeyed you. You watched as his length disappeared into the fleshlight, and you listened as his needy groans filled your ear. "I bet it feels so good," you smirked. "Oh. Mommy, it does," Matt whimpered, stroking himself with his toy. "So much better than my hand," he whined, picking up speed. You felt a wet warmth pooling between your thighs as you watched Matt pleasuring himself.

You couldn't get enough of the way he looked through the window, his head thrown back and his mouth hanging open as more delighted groans poured from his pretty lips. "Keep going. You're such a good boy," you praised him through the phone. "Mommy, please. You're making me dangerously close," Matt whined, fervently jerking himself off with his toy while he basked in your words. "Not yet, baby. Don't cum just yet," you responded quietly. He let out a pained sigh and slowed down his movements to keep himself from finishing too quickly, but he found himself bucking his hips up to continue the wonderful sensation.

"Mommy, can't stop. Mmm. Feels too good," Matt whimpered. You took in the sight of him across the way, tending to his needy cock. "You got this, baby. Hold out just a little bit longer," you cooed into the phone. Matt used every ounce of discipline to keep himself from teetering over the edge as he buried his cock deep into his toy. "Mommy, I keep imagining it's you," he said in a breathy voice. "Don't you dare cum until I say so," you replied in a soft, sensual tone. "Please," he begged. He started picking up speed again, flirting with the idea of finishing despite not having been given permission.

"No, no. Not yet," you teased. He couldn't get enough of the slippery material inside the fleshlight, and the way it fit around his cock so snugly, wondering if that's how you'd feel wrapped around him. With every stroke, he felt himself nearing the tipping point. "Mommy, need to cum. I am begging," he desperately pleaded with you. "Good boy. You waited so patiently. You can cum now. Cum for mommy," you directed him. "Thank you, mommy. Thank you," he whimpered.

His dick started twitching as the knot in his stomach gave way. All his muscles tightened as he finished pumping his cock, blowing his load into his toy until it started dripping out, coating his length with his milky white substance. "Fuck. That was so hot," you told him, rubbing yourself through your panties while he caught his breath. He playfully giggled into the phone.

"This toy is amazing. I've gotta go clean this up."

part four posted 💖

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#sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #ᴀʀɪᴇꜱ' ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ᴍᴇ & ᴜ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙

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alkallier · 1 month ago

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The Vampire, The Priest, The Scientist, and The Doctor

Note: In the last post, I went into a ramble of the idea of an alternative version for the boys. So here’s some additional ideas as well as the prompts; few of the ideas are inspired by other artists, so I did try to find out who the idea originally belonged to.. some I managed to track back some… I couldn’t pinterest and all.

Dick and Jason

[So Vampire Dick is canon in the vampire universe, but I saw a short comic of 12 yr old Grayson walking with 7 yr old human Jason in pinterest (I couldn’t track back to who the artists is) So maybe thats why the two are close?]

Dick was strolling over the Gotham’s street in mid daylight because of an argument with The Bat over something stupid but as they both were quite hard headed and didn’t want to admit either was wrong he did the next best thing, rebel against him by breaking the rule of never going out in daylight!

Mid stroll however, a figure caught Dick’s eyes. A small boy, obviously malnourished and run down, the kid himself looked like he was about to cry. Curious, Dick goes to the kid and decide to pester the poor soul. Long story short, Dick ended up semi adopting the kid, Jason and raise him as if his own.

But as the world was still weary of the Vampire clan, and The Bat himself didn’t know about Jason’s existence. Dick set up a small safe house that act as his second home where he can take care of the human kid he found. When Jason grew up, he joined the Vatican as a spy for Dick, something Dick was wholly against, but as karma decided to bit him, Jason rebelled and still join. Dick couldn’t do anything.

He slowly raised his rank and became a well known and loved cardinal of the area. He made an orphanage in which Jason stayed at most of the time when he was out of the nest.

Tim

[Tim is based on Carrion Au by Polarspaz. But here, he is more deranged and already snapped because of Kon’s death.]

Tim wasn’t taken in by the Bats here nor did he work with the Bat himself, but he did ran around the underground locations to quench his thirst over knowledge, and while he was in the midst of ransacking Cadmus because of his morbid fascination of human work he found a test tube containing a clone that seemed to be working.

He took the clone back and played around with it… he didn’t know when it happened but after he took the clone , he grow to understand human emotions more and things started to get better for him. Because he still had to bring the Clone <Which the word slowly changed Clone-> Clon ��> Con —> Kon> outside, since the Con was made using Superman’s DNA and needed sunlight. As Kon learn how to be a person, Tim learns how to be Human.

But then something happened, there was a siege and nearly killed Tim because of a momentary carelessness ( he wasn't trained in combat as much since he was more focused in research) Kon, seeing the one person who showed him the world and what happiness is, discarded all thoughts and sacrificed himself in place of Tim.

“Im merely a clone, Tim… you are more important…”

From then on, Tim snapped and began to try to find ways to revive Kon, whether it was via magic, necromancy, cloning, or other unorthodox ways.

Damian

Damian was raised by Talia, who didn’t want to give Dami to Bruce because she knew Bruce was the Bat. So Talia raised her sweet baby in the league with the mindset of someone who can help all living creatures and care for them (LOA main goal is to cleanse the world of corruption and achieve perfect environment balance, so the goal is still the same I’m just changing the way they do it)

Ra’s also love Dami, but couldn’t be with his grandson too much because of the urgent business of handling the deals with different heads. But when he was available, he would coddle Dami with lots of hugs and teach him how to be kind but also have self preservation.

In the future, where Dami was ready and questioned Talia about his father, Talia reluctantly told Dami of the Bat and who his father was. Despite it all, Damian still decide to meet the man who was once his mother’s paramour.

The introduction was rough at best, but it happened.

Now Dami had seen how bad Gotham was and decide he wanted to help spread his Grandfather’s agenda there. The Bat allowed him, as their vision was aligned in the grand scheme of things of things. But because of of Talia’s paranoia, she had bought a mansion slightly bit away from the Wayne manor, in which where Damian could stay at, with an ample amount of servants and guards since Talia herself couldn’t stay for too long as she had other things to do.

In his quest to save lives, Damian met ‘The Drake’ someone who kept on kidnapping people and leaving them with nothing but their DNA splotches on the ground. So now he had to help and save as many lives as he could while having to deal with The Drake and other villains who tried to hurts the innocent.

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rafescherie · 3 months ago

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✮⋆˙ bsf!rafe kissing you for the first time.

warnings — none, really! bestfriend!rafe and innocent!reader

cherie's note — trying to post most of my drafts (◜ᴗ◝) . i luv writing for bsf!rafe. <3

rafe cameron had always been good at getting what he wanted.

it was easy. people caved for him — whether it was out of fear, admiration, or sheer bad luck, it didn't matter. and you? you were no exception. you bended to his every whim, eager and ready to appease him whenever he was around.

you were different from the people he surrounded himself with — softer, sweeter, too innocent to be wrapped up in his world. but that only made him want to sink his teeth in deeper. every inappropriate joke that went over your head, or a phrase he'd use around you that had you shooting him a puzzled look, the more the urge to completely corrupt you, took over.

and right now? with you curled up on his bed, your legs tucked beneath you, wearing his old t-shirt that swallowed your smaller frame? he wanted to ruin you.

not that you'd even realize it.

you were so oblivious, so trusting. it would almost be cruel. almost.

his lips twitched as he watched you, attention half on the movie playing in the background, half on the way your fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of your — his — shirt. you had no idea how easy you were making this for him.

"y'know," he mused, stretching an arm behind his head in an attempt at getting comfortable, "i've never seen you with a guy before."

you blinked, glancing at him. "what?"

"i mean, like... dating. kissing. any of it." he smirked. "you ever even been kissed before?"

your face heats instantly, a crimson red blush dusting over your cheeks. "rafe—"

"oh, shit." he let out a low laugh, sitting up against his headboard. "you haven't, have you?"

your shoulders collapsed in defeated, embarrassed by the teasing laced in his voice. "it's not a big deal..."

"not a big deal?" he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "you're tellin' me no guys ever wanted to kiss you?"

what a stupid question, he thought. of course guys had wanted to kiss you — he'd be the first one in line if it ever came down to it.

you fidgeted anxiously, "i-i don't know. i never really..."

"you never really what?" he tilts his head, blue eyes glinting with amusement. "paid attention? noticed?"

you bit your lip, looking away. "... i guess."

he laughed again, but this time, it was softer — more indulgent. he shifted closer, his knee knocking against yours.

"damn," he muttered, shaking his head in honest disbelief. he wasn't sure if the idea was pathetic, or cute. "you're really that innocent, huh?"

you swallowed, your stomach twisting at the way he was looking at you.

"not that innocent," you mumbled, your bottom lip sticking out in a pathetic little pout.

he raised an eyebrow, "oh yeah? prove it."

you hesitate, furrowing your brows at his challenge. "...how?"

rafe's smirk widened, his voice dropping a lower octave, "let me kiss you."

your breath caught, "what?"

"c'mon," he coaxed, his fingers reaching out, brushing lightly against your jaw. "just a little one. just so you can say you've done it."

your pretty little head was spinning. you should say no — shouldn't let him do this — but he was already tilting your chin up, his touch warm and firm.

and then, before your brain could even think about it, he kissed you.

it was soft at first — gentle. almost sweet, like he was testing you. but when you didn't pull away, he pressed in deeper, his other hand slipping to your waist.

you stiffened slightly, unsure of what to do, and rafe felt it.

he hummed against your lips, his hand squeezing the exposed flesh of your hip. "relax," he murmured, barely pulling away. "don't think so hard."

you nodded shakily, a bit unsure of yourself, letting him guide you.

"good girl," he praises, his voice low and warm. "see? you're learning."

your knees felt weak, hanging on by a thread as you listened to every word he mustered, like it was a biblical prayer.

his lips ghosted against yours before he kissed you again, slower this time, his tongue barely brushing against your bottom lip. whimpering out at the sensation, your fingers tightened in the fabric of his bedsheets.

rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening.

"fuck," he muttered, his breath warm against your skin, "you don't even know what you're doing to me."

swallowing the lump in your throat again, your heart stammered in you chest. "i-i don't?"

he chuckles darkly at your stammering, his calloused thumb tracing slow circles on the skin of your hip. "no, baby," he murmurs, his nose brushing against yours as he presses another lingering kiss to your lips.

"but don't worry." his lips connected with the side of your jaw, pressing light kisses to the sensitive skin as your eyes fluttered close, eyelashes tickling your blushed cheeks.

"i'll teach you everything."

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imrllytootiredforthis · 1 year ago

Text

The ‘bad’ kind of desire

pairing: soobin x reader

synopsis: you can't touch him, because he's too innocent, too sweet. but god you wish you could.

warnings: implied fem reader (can't remember if it's outright said), dom reader, sub soobin, masturbation, fingering, lowkey corruption kink, mentioned mommy kink, think that's really it

a/n: the first portion of this fic has been in my drafts since roughly july last year and was in my notes app for a few months - at least - longer than that so don't even ask me how old this really is, but at least it's out!!😭

“Am I bad person?”

Beomgyu scoffs, looking at you with eyebrows raised. He nearly laughs at the ridiculous statement coming from your mouth.

"What?"

And that makes him lose it, unable to even hold it back as he barks out a laugh, looking at you as if you've grown a second head.

It’s a hard thing to fathom coming from you given that you’ve definitely never had any qualms about your morality when it comes to this kind of stuff. “Really? You’re asking me that?”

His best friend sits across the room, oblivious to the conversation, his headphones pulled over his ears, the game he’s playing flashing on the computer screen in front of him.

Soobin.

Sweet sweet Soobin, messy blonde hair left unbrushed, pajamas still on, not bothering to change as this was all he was planning to do all day.

Sweet Soobin who you can’t help but want to play with.

Who you can’t help but imagine how pretty he’d look with tears in his eyes.

"I'm not fucking around Gyu-am I a bad person?"

You groan and flop over on the couch, rolling over to rest your head in Beomgyu’s lap, looking up at him with a comically-in his opinion-concerned expression.

He gives you nothing but an exaggerated eye-roll. "Don't even start."

“But aren’t I?” You look again at the boy across the room, wondering why, why he had to be so stupidly adorable. His lips were twisted into a small pout and why it was so fucking cute.

Why? You wondered, feeling like this was all you were doing nowadays.

Beomgyu resists the urge to roll his eyes at you for the second time in a row, now at the way that you look at his best friend like some kind of lovesick fool, especially considering that all you really wanted was get into his pants. It didn’t really make sense, but hey, who was he to judge?

“Why? Just because you want to rock his shit? Step on him and make him cry? That makes you question your morality? Out of everything that you've done?”

You gasp, slapping his chest. “He’s right there.” You hiss, not exactly denying the words.

He ignores that, shoving you off of him. He knows as well as you do that those headphones are the expensive noise cancelling ones that he'd gotten from you last Christmas. He barely hear himself yelling at his online teammates much less your hushed conversation.

You look at him as if you want to take him out on a nice picnic date and let him lay his head in your lap while playing with his hair pointing at clouds. Which Beomgyu couldn’t really see in any world, you were never really the type.

But who knows? Maybe you were really just that eager for his dick at this point-or the more probable scenario-have him on your dick, that it broke something inside you.

“Why’re you so concerned now? Not like you had any issues with Yeonjun or Taehyun. Hell, you kept up everyone else in the dorms,” His voice goes higher as he attempts to poorly mock his roommates. “‘Y/N, more~’ ‘please, I need it-need y-‘“

“Shut the hell up.” You spit, quickly covering his mouth with your hand while your eyes flicker once more to him, still staring intently at his game.

Really, why were you so concerned now?

Beomgyu was right. You’d had no problem doing the same to them, to Tae and Yeonjun, but they were different-he was different.

Soobin was different than any of them. They were the product of having fun with someone you knew like the back of your hand and vice versa. Simply satisfying-albeit unimportant-a matter of getting your rocks off with people you knew could find your clit and would let you hit it from the back.

Soobin was Soobin though. The sweet boy who looked at you with the most innocent smile.

Who got all blushy and embarrassed when you so much as lightly and non-vulgarly flirted with him.

He’d squeak and duck his head away when you called him bunny - again, non-vulgarly, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing and it turned him on-just a little bit.

In other words, painfully obviously, it was clear.

“He’s a virgin!” You hiss, hand still clamped over his mouth despite his garbled reply. You know just as well as Beomgyu knows how bitchless his friend is. Despite the fact that offers for him were nearly endless he was too shy, too awkward to accept said advances. “-I can’t take that away from him, it needs to be special, it needs-“

Your hand, still over his mouth is touched by something warm and wet and you shriek, pulling away quickly with a look of disgusted horror. “Are you serious right now?”

“Fight me bitch, I will not hesitate.” He growls, looking triumphant with the fact that you’ve now backed up to the edge of the couch.

You roll your eyes at him, looking once again at Soobin.

Fuck, why does he have to be so adorably innocent?

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, wiping at his mouth. "Just trust me, he'd be happy to be used by you. He might be a virgin, but he's nowhere near innocent."

"And what do you mean by that?" You sit against the arm of the couch, wiping Beomgyu's saliva onto the cushions.

He lets out a dry laugh, glancing back at Soobin before reaching for the previously forgotten remote control. "It means he wouldn't be as freaked as you think he would be if he found your sex toy collection."

—-

You suppose Soobin had always been special in some sort of way.

Always there over the span of time that you'd known all of them. Sitting off to the side while you hung out with the others. In his own room while you were fucking around with his other roommates. Playing his game while you were hanging out with Gyu.

He'd caught your eye more than once or twice, or three times over the years.

He was hot. You'd never discount that. Hot in the loser-y, adorable, cute, corruptible kind of way.

But then again, that kind of was your type if you thought about it.

You'd never been particularly close with him like you'd been with the others. He'd never made much effort to hang out with you but he was there when all the others were, if not one-on-one.

And he got really, really embarrassed when you tried to flirt with him like you did the others.

You didn't mind much, you'd just come under the impression that he was kind of scared of women. Which was also kind of cute.

But Beomgyu was right when he'd said that you'd never cared much about morals in the first place.

It didn't matter how close of friends or if they were a virgin or whatever other silly things that made things like that 'trivial'.

Life was too short to pretend you didn't feel things and besides. Sometimes, you really, just...didn't care.

And it wasn't personal, when you wanted someone, you would pursue it and if there was now friend groups you'd single handedly broken up, well they'd clearly made it personal themselves because you always made it very clear that there was no feelings involved.

Besides the raw, hot tension that made your skin tingle like your nerves were livewire.

Soobin was different though, special.

You felt bad for wanting him. For wanting to dirty him up.

He was something pure, something beyond and above you, perhaps and that was something you weren't willing to ruin, no matter what Beomgyu told you.

—-

"Fuck," he panted, "please,"

The room was dark, the light of his laptop being the only thing illuminating his face.

"Please,"

Sounds filled his ears through the crappy pair he'd owned for years, refusing to get wireless ones.

"Please."

"Bet you fucking like that, don't you?" The voice, only a few octaves higher than your own, still sent shivers down his spine.

Close enough.

"You're a such a dirty slut, you know?"

He whined into his sleeve, a sweater paw pressed over his mouth to keep the moans at bay. "I'm sorry, no, no please I'm sorry~" It wasn't doing a very good job muffling his voice though.

"I need it~"

The video seemed to respond to his desperate pleas. "If you need it so fucking bad then you'll be a good boy and wait for mommy's permission. You hear me?"

Or maybe he'd just watched this video so many times he'd memorized all of the male counterpart's lines. "Yes mommy," he panted, "I'll be good, I-I'll wait for your permission!"

He wouldn't. He knew he wouldn't.

He couldn't, as much as he prided himself on being a good boy. This time he knew he wouldn't even make it through the seven minute and thirty-two second video.

Not with you in the next room.

He couldn't tell if you were with Yeonjun or Taehyun. It didn't really matter either way.

Because he would only focus on you.

You weren't loud, having endured enough of Beomgyu's teasing and gripes about your sexual habits. He decided he hated Beomgyu for that.

But he could hear your pants through the paper-thin walls, heavy and followed by your quiet praises. "Sweet boy," you cooed, just as the porn on his laptop continued, "Naughty boy, such a messy little-" He ripped the earbuds out mid-sentence.

He wanted to hear you.

Not some substitute for the real thing.

He could imagine if you walked it on him right now.

Laying spread out on his bed, pants not even all the way off-just messily pulled below his hips, just enough for his dick to breathe properly and for his hand to easily slide up and down with the amount of pre-cum leaking from the tip.

"Fucking please." He moaned, quiet and needy.

You'd see him a mess, his soaked through sleeves catching the drool from his lips, teeth biting into the soft fabric to keep from crying out too loud.

You'd see him shamelessly fucking up into his fist, calling out pleas with no one there to hear him.

"C'mon baby, you can take it, take it all for me." Your voice was accompanied by the wet sounds of what, Soobin wasn't completely sure but his mind quickly conjured a few different theories. "That's it, a little more~"

Fuck him, he wished you were speaking to him.

Cockwarming him, your pussy wrapped around his dick, warm and wet and squeezing around him so good. Fluttering kisses over his face and throat as you teased along the length of him, slowly lifting up just to agonizingly sink back down onto him, clenching tight while he moaned into a kiss.

Or stroking him to another orgasm, making him cum again and again until his body was shaking and tears streaming down his cheeks. Telling him he could take more, do it one more time, for you. Because whatever pain you'd inflict would be worth it, after all it was your hands doing the damage.

"Fuck you look so pretty like this, just makes me wanna fucking wreck you. Turn you into a mindless whore on my dick."

Fuck, so that was what it was.

His mind managed to come up with one more picture through the haze.

You'd have his wrists pinned over his head with one hand, over him, keeping him down with a surprising amount of strength.

God, he could imagine the way you'd look at him. Maybe you'd be kind and gentle, sweet words and a sweet hand, fulfilling every one of his fantasies while calling him your sweet little bunny.

Like you were with whoever you were with on the other side of that wall.

But he doubted it. Or, he hoped not at least.

In his head you'd be meaner, crueler. Look at him with dark, hungry eyes and watch in a sadistic sort of glee when he cried, when he whined, when he begged and pleaded for more.

You'd thrust into him, hard and punishing, slowing down just to make sure that he wasn't crying from serious pain before you'd slam your hips against his, driving the tip of the toy dead into his prostate.

He'd beg you, plead you to slow down, to be nicer to him.

You'd tell him no. Tell him to be a good boy, voice patronizing and low, tell him only good boys get rewards.

God, that’s what he needed right now.

Needed you.

Your words, your touch, your scent, your presence even. You eyes on him, watching as he fell apart.

Not you fucking someone else in a different room.

Liquid heat flowed through his body, scorching and consuming every coherent thought.

"More."

He imagined it was you. Your hands all over him, pressing up against his throat, fondling his balls, purposely, maliciously ignoring where he needed to be touched most while you drove into him over and over and over until he was screaming in ecstasy.

It wasn’t enough, not nearly

"You just love my cock, don't you angel? Love being fucked by me into a mindless whore?"

He silently cracked the lube open, lathering his fingers in it before letting them drift lower.

He'd done this before, but it had been awhile and the stretch was beyond overwhelming with your words ringing through the wall.

“You’re just a little angel, aren’t you, bunny?” And he pressed a finger inside, thrusting shallowly, breath picking up as you got louder.

"No, you're not an angel. You're a fucking whore, taking it like you were made for it, huh?" A second finger, following the first, scissoring himself open with a quiet gasp.

"Yeah? Fuck, is that it?" You laugh and he swears it's right in his ear, ringing through his head. "'m gonna make you scream for me baby,"

He whines in frustration, his fingers not deep enough - you not deep enough inside of him. No, he needs it deeper, harder.

More.

"Get on top of me baby, ride me," you mutter, so far but so close.

He can imagine, as he settles on his knees, that the pillow he straddles is you. That his legs are around your hips. That his fingers, positioning on the bed under him is your dick and your hands are pressing against his hips, holding him in place.

"You're mine, you hear that? Mine. My perfect little slut, taking my cock like a pretty little slut." His body trembles, eyes rolling back as he slowly sinks down onto three fingers.

"Your's." He moans in reply.

And finally, finally, he reaches his prostate, hitting it head on with his fingers.

Stars burst behind his eyelids as they slip shut, back arching into the intrusion. He could cry, he thinks distantly that he maybe is.

But it doesn't matter.

Because your hands are on his hips, controlling his movements, leading him the way you want him to ride your cock.

Up,

"Slut." You whisper.

and down,

"Whore." You lean up, teeth nipping at his neck but not hard enough to leave marks.

over,

"Baby," Breathing over the shell of his ear.

and over,

"Good boy~" Teasingly biting at his earlobe.

harder,

"Bunny," Kissing along his jaw.

faster,

"Mine." Across his cheek.

deeper.

Just barely there, ghosting across his lips-

"-Cum for me baby,"

And he does. With his mouth hung open, drool covered sleeve long forgotten over. With his eyebrows furrowed and body curled into itself, fingers pressed against his prostate.

Ropes of cum covering his chest, and his face. Some reaching his lips and his chin, staining his skin and landing in his open mouth.

"Fuck,"

And on the other side of the wall, "Good boy,"

a/n: i was thinking about making a part two but honestly if it took me a year to find the inspiration to finish this one, i'm not sure a second one will ever come out😭

#soobin x reader #soobin smut #sub txt #txt x reader #txt smut #sub!txt #sub kpop #sub idol #sub!soobin #sub soobin #afab reader #dom reader #dom!reader

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drbased · 3 months ago

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Women and our interests have always been associated with conservatism, it seems. The concept of 'pearl clutching' is an allusion to women being offended over modern and liberal sensibilities.

I suspect this is because whenever men want to reduce the damage of their rape and violence, they don't know how to do it outside of highly restrictive societal construction. As they are incentivised to ignore the root of the problem, they will always 1. project it onto women, 2. deflect with scapegoats, and 3. create strict social rules in the hope that they can at least make the violence happen elsewhere, or have it hidden from view, so they don't have to look bad, or feel bad, about what they are doing to women en masse.

Conservatives, for example, oppose pornography because they, like the pornographers, believe that sex 'corrupts' women, and they don't want their own female relatives to be corrupted. Meanwhile, feminists oppose pornography because of the material violence committed by men against women within it. But men cannot percieve that women have our own reasoning, so they assume we must align with the male 'conservative' viewpoint. They do the same thing the conservatives do and deflect a male problem - belief that sex, interchangeable with rape, is sinful - onto women, who recognise that there is a difference between consent and rape and simply wish to not be raped.

Women's recognition of moral horrors and our desire to minimise them/be shielded from them is considered 'pearl clutching' because men do not take our claims or morality seriously. They have decided that the violence is a necessary evil, and that morality is not simply a recognition of material harm, but some ethereal and symbolic 'greater good'. The horrific damage caused by men is a nuisance that must be stratified and organised. When this damage is criticised by women, it is understood to be a roundabout way of addressing the same concerns that the conservative man has - and the very fact that women care about actual harm, and therefore we have an emotional investment in the topic, is used as further proof that we are frivolous, unserious, and incapable of making the hard decisions required for leadership. Men, you see, already know that their violence is a problem, and conservativism has its ideological solutions, so everything women say and get upset about is not only redundant but either hysterical or manipulative. The idea that women simply care is never taken into account - because we're all raised to conceptualise the world from a male point of view.

Men have said that prostitution is bad because it corrupts women, so 'swerfs' must secretly agree. Men have said that maleness and femaleness are inherent essences and that the 'feminisation' of society will cause its downful, so 'terfs' must secretly agree. Women are denied a voice at every turn, always assumed to be parroting a much more emotional, manipulative and hysterical version of what men have always said.

#my writing #theory posting

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dearestmillls · 3 months ago

Text

CORRUPTION—r. cameron

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ WARNINGS: drug consumption, sexual content, mdni 18+.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ PAIRINGS: dealer!rafe & princess!reader

You were the perfect princess of figure eight. Your father's the wealthiest man on the island, treating you as if you've never done anything wrong, because you haven't.

You have the perfect grades, a flawless reputation, the kind of girl who says 'yes daddy' and never sneaks out beyond her 11 oclock curfew.

The party was chaos. Music thumped through the walls, neon lights flashing in time with the bass, and the air was thick with smoke, sweat, and something else that made your head spin. You didn’t even know why you were here—you didn’t do parties like this. You were supposed to be the sweet, innocent one. Your father’s golden girl. Untouchable.

But here you were, in a tiny little dress that barely skimmed your thighs, on your way to find the most dangerous guy on the island.

Rafe Cameron.

You spotted him near the back of the yard, leaning against his truck like he owned the place, a beer in one hand and a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips. He was surrounded by his usual crew—Topper, Kelce, and a couple of other guys who all looked like they hadn’t had a sober thought in weeks.

Your heart was racing, but you kept your chin up as you made your way over, your heels clicking softly against the pavement. You didn’t know why your friends had sent you to do this. You’d never bought anything stronger than a Diet Coke. But they’d insisted—said Rafe wouldn’t sell to them anymore after some blow-up last week.

So now it was on you.

“Hey, Rafey,” you said, your voice soft and a little breathless as you stopped in front of him, tilting your head just enough that your glossy curls tumbled over your shoulder. You batted your lashes, playing up the sweet, innocent act that always seemed to get you what you wanted.

The entire group went silent.

Rafe’s eyes snapped to you, and for a second, you felt pinned under the weight of his gaze. He looked you over slowly, his blue eyes dragging down the length of your body, lingering on the curve of your hips, the swell of your chest, the way your short dress hugged every inch of you. His lips curled into a lazy, lopsided smirk, but there was nothing friendly about it.

“Princess,” he drawled, his voice low and rough and thick with something you couldn't place. High, drunk--probably both. “What you doing out here?”

Your cheeks burned, and you suddenly realized just how badly your hands were shaking. You twisted your fingers together, biting your bottom lip nervously as you tried to think of something to say.

Rafe noticed. Of course he did. His smirk widened, and he leaned back against his truck like he had all the time in the world.

You were suddenly very aware of the way his friends were staring at you, like you were a shiny new toy they weren’t sure they were allowed to touch. Topper chuckled under his breath, and you caught the way his eyes lingered on your legs before Rafe shot him a look that could’ve cut glass.

“Leave,” Rafe said suddenly, his voice sharp and cold.

The group hesitated for a moment, exchanging glances, but then they scattered, mumbling half-hearted goodbyes as they wandered back toward the party. Topper shot you a lingering look on his way out, and you shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the hem of your dress.

And just like that, it was just you and Rafe.

“What do you want, princess?” he asked, tipping his beer bottle to his lips as he watched you with those heavy-lidded, dark eyes.

You swallowed hard, your fingers twisting in the fabric of your dress. “My friends… they, um… they wanted something.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Some coke,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe blinked, then let out a low, dark laugh that made your stomach flip.

“Didn’t think I’d live to see the day.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping lower. “But see, there’s a problem, princess. I don’t usually sell to people like you.”

“Why not?”

“Because girls like you don’t belong here,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “And I’d hate to be the one to ruin you.”

Rafe stepped closer again, and your breath caught in your throat. He was taller than you remembered—bigger—and he smelled like whiskey and cologne and something darker, something that made your knees weak.

“I’m not scared of you,” you said, even though your voice trembled just a little.

Rafe smiled, slow and wicked. “You should be.”

He let the words hang in the air for a second before he pulled something out of his pocket and held it up—a small bag of white powder.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ll give you what you want… but you’ve gotta do something for me first.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

Rafe leaned in, his mouth just inches from your ear. “Just one line, princess. Right here, right now. Let’s see if you’ve got it in you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. But Rafe’s eyes were on you, daring you, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of backing down.

So you nodded.

Rafe’s smile was pure sin as he pulled a small mirror from his truck and poured out a thin line of powder. He handed you a rolled-up bill, his fingers brushing yours just long enough to make your skin tingle.

“Go on,” he said, leaning back against the truck like he had all the time in the world. “Show me what you’ve got, princess.”

You took a deep breath, leaned down, and did it. The powder burned, sharp and cold, and when you straightened up, your head was spinning.

Rafe was watching you with a look you couldn’t quite read—something darker, hungrier.

“Atta girl,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Knew you had it in you.”

Your lips parted, but before you could say anything, Rafe reached out and brushed his thumb across your bottom lip, his touch light as a feather.

“You’re not as sweet as you look, are you, princess?” he said, his eyes locked on yours.

You didn’t even realise you were holding your breath until Rafe pulled back, letting his thumb fall from your lower lip. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

You wish you could say something—take back a bit of the control that he had ripped away from you—but your brain wasn’t working right and you just stared up at him dumbly.

“What’s the matter, princess? You nervous?” His head tilted as he studied you.

Your fingers twisted in the hem of your dress, and you bit down on your bottom lip before quickly releasing it once you saw his eyes darken at the motion.

You shook your head, curls swishing around you. “No,” you lied breathily.

Rafe chuckled, low and rough and you could feel it all the way down your spine.

“Liar,” he murmured, leaning just a little closer enough for you to feel his breath on your skin.

You swallowed hard, eyes darting anywhere but at his attractive face. “Are we…done here?”

Rafe’s smile widened as he reached out, his large hands grazing yoir waist. “That depends,” he slurred. He was high and drunk, looking at you like he wanted to ruin you.

“Depends on what?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Depends on if you’re pretending to be a good girl,” he said, his eyes locked on yours.

Your breath hitches, and you felt your whole face flush. You were pretty sure your heart was about to explode, and your head was spinning from the coke and the heat of Rafe’s body so close to yours.

“I-I should go,” you stammered, stepping back quickly, only to bump against the side of his truck.

But Rafe didn’t move. He just watched you with that same lazy, predatory smirk, like he was enjoying watching you squirm. “Go then,” He said, leaning casually against the side of the truck.

You hesitated, your hands clenching by your side. You willed your legs to move but they just wouldn’t. Damn them. “Rafe,” You murmured softly, unable to utter anything else.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d even know my name, princess.” Rafe muttered, eyes dragging over every inch of skin exposed from your flimsy dress. “Girls like you an’ guys like me don’t mix.”

Your eyelashes batted in surprise. “Of course I know who you are, Rafey.”

Rafey there was that fucking nickname again. Your voice was light and airy, but sweet like honey. Never had Rafe felt his cock strain so hard against his jeans from just talking to a girl. “What’s that mean?”

“I mean…I’ve heard things about you, you know.” You said quietly, fingers folded in front of you nervously.

Rafe ran a hand through his buzzed hair, a grin appearing on his face. “Mhm? Good or bad things, princess?”

You ducked your head, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Both?” You offered, shrugging meekly.

“You know I don’t think your friends deserve you.” He said lowly, his hands applying more pressure on your waist “You could just hang out with me.”

You wanted to say no. To return to your friends for another hour and then go home and kiss your daddy goodnight before you went to bed. Instead you found yourself, raising to your tiptoes and gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” He looked surprised but he tried to hide it.

You nodded “Yeah.”

“Rafey!” You whined, hands clinging to his bulging biceps as he rammed into you, your legs hanging around his shoulders. Normally, he only took girls from behind but he needed to see your face as he absolutely ruined you. Tears clung to your long eyelashes, as your eyes rolled back. When Rafe found out that the perfect little princess was in fact not a virgin he was overcome with jealousy.

How dare someone get to you before he did. So, he had to settle for fucking you so hard you’d feel his imprint for the next few days.

“So—fucking tight,” he gritted out, hands scooping under your bare ass to lift your hips off the bed, letting his cock hit deeper with every rushed thrust. “He make you feel like this?” Rafe demanded, every word punctuated with a thrust.

A strangled moan left your lips, as you shook your head. Unable to verbally express your feelings at the moment.

“Words, princess, words.” He said calmly.

You whined in protest as he slowed down to a stop inside you. You still felt overly full but you needed more. You needed him to completely own you. “Please Rafe…” Your hands gained purchase on his head, pulling him closer to your lips but there was no hair to grab. Your hips rutted upwards, wanting him to move.

Rafe pinned your hands over your head, fingers tickling the head post. “Nuh uh. Beggin’ can only get you so far, angel. Tell me you need it—need me.”

“Rafe Rafe! I need you pleaseee.”

His smile turned sinister, “you asked for it.” He pulled out all the way to the tip, then dipped in at full speed, causing you to trash against his strong hold.

It wasn’t long until you were whimpering, “please, i’m so close.” Your cunt sucking him in like a vice.

“Come for me, princess. Come all over my cock like the slut you are. Just wish your daddy was here to see his innocent angel.”

His words caused you to take the last step over the edge. You moaned his name as the climax washed over you, Rafe assisting you through it milking every last drop until you were nothing but a trembling mess underneath him.

He pulled out, stroking himself until he came on your stomach, painting your stomach with his seed. He would’ve loved to come inside you but he was hoping you would want to repeat this. He already got you coked up, if he got the princess pregnant you would hate him. He couldn’t risk it.

“We coulda been doing this shi way earlier, princess if you came out of your tower more often.” He mumbled, smoothing the hair out of your dewy face.

You looked up at him silently, your lips parted into an ‘o’. “This can’t happen again,” was all you blurted, instead of what you really wanted to say.

“We’ll see.” Rafe smirked.

🫧milla speaks—it has been a HOT minute since i actually posted so here’s this xx

#rafe cameron #outer banks #dearestmillls #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx

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0luv9 · 1 year ago

Text

forlorn || mattheo riddle

Summary: based on this request.

Beware: angst, fluff, slightly aged-up characters, Hufflepuff reader, sweet reader, she/her pronouns used, mostly in second person, jealousy, mistreatment, a little bit of blood, slightly commanding(?) and intimidating Mattheo.

Words: 7.8k (not beta read)

Note: I am sorry luv, I don't think I did justice to the request. I also apologize for taking so long. I still hope you like it, even if it's just a bit. @cat-loves-music

Mattheo Riddle, son of Voldemort, or Tom Riddle if you will—for a more humane approach. But then, there's no humanity in the way he's treated. Always an outsider, always a monster.

There is wealth to his name; after all, he is the only living heir of Salazar Slytherin. However, his blood is corrupt, shunned by the very people who kissed the steps his baby feet took. Looked down on by the blood supremacists and not accepted by the other side, the "good side."

Even he was tired of the same sob story. He doesn't even need to introduce himself; they already have a preconceived image of him in their minds. He could try to fix his image in an ideal world, but even then, what would he say?

'Hello, everyone, I'm Mattheo Riddle, son of the man who once threatened your lives. Please welcome me with warm hands.'

Too cliché? Yes, but it's true and the only truth he knew.

Riddle didn't even know why the name Riddle was cursed and didn't know what his father did that made everyone's hate transcend generations. What made their hatred justified and his hate a crime? He didn't know until it was too late.

Mattheo was raised by the only living relative of his, his mother's aunt—the one who died recently. The one who kept all this hidden away from him hid all the Hogwarts' letters, raised him like her own, and protected him until her last breath. She loved him but all within the vicinity of the manor. He didn't know the world that existed beyond those walls.

He knew about the world outside only through the books she'd let him read. He thought it would feel liberating to step off the lavish floors onto the rich earth. It was everything but that.

"But Nona, why can't I go outside?" he remembers asking that silly question when he was about nine. What he wouldn't do to get that naivety back.

"Because, my dear, there are people out there who wouldn't like you. There are bad people outside ready to punish you," he also remembers crying when she told him that. He didn't understand why people would hate him. He just wanted to try the chocolate frogs he read about.

He just wanted to talk to all the different animals out there, the same way he could talk to the garden snakes.

"But I didn't do anything wrong, Nona. Tell them that I'm a good boy. I can even give them some of my toys. Will they like me then?" If only it were that easy. His Nona cried for the first time in front of him then, looking at all the toys he had set onto her lap, looking at her with teary eyes, pleading, "I didn't do anything wrong, Nona, I promise."

Mattheo didn't understand her tears back then, but now as he stands all alone, those same tears fall out his eyes. It's useless. "They'll know that someday, moon pie. You aren't wrong. They'll know." They'll know? What a fucking joke.

Mattheo tries to enjoy the view in front of him, you know. But how can he? When his batchmates are out there partying and enjoying life, he's been a lone wolf all his life. Yet in moments like this, he seems to forget his old ways of existing.

There's not much he can do anyway; he's not needed anywhere. In fact, they all want him gone. Finding beauty in small things is hard when misery clings to him. There's self-loathing in the way he thinks about the night and himself. There's nothing positive he can say.

You'd think that he must've gotten used to it all by now. No, he hasn't; it only got worse. At least little Mattheo held hope that people would understand someday or the other. Every bit of hope was destroyed by the very people who would've feared him had his father been alive. In moments like this, he wished he could see the man, live as the son they paint him as.

He'd have someone to lean onto then, someone to call his own. At least his father would've loved him. But this last bit of consolidation too was stolen away from him when he got to know that he was a backup plan for his father. Mattheo Riddle was not supposed to exist. His father wanted to live on forever; he was the last option the so-called Dark Lord had, to produce an heir and have them further his cause, and control his life as Tom lived on his last lifeline.

But all of it died with him. Mattheo promised himself that he would never be the man they all expected him to be, the man they wanted to point fingers at. So, he stayed in line. But then he thinks, sometimes, maybe, what if—you know?

He simply stares up at the brightly lit sky, it's a shame that he's the only one out there to appreciate the scenic beauty because he's physically and mentally incapable of appreciating anything, you can't blame him now, can you?

Cold breeze in mid-August, how fucking ridiculous just like this life of his, so unlike his peers, who were out there partying and having the time of their lives, the music vibrating through the walls was like salt on wounds. He'd like to drink a few and chat with his friends but then again, he hasn't got any. And it's the bitter truth that he's not welcome there, he'd be greeted with nasty looks if he tried to enter any such party, they'd all glance his way like the ominous thing he is. It's times like this when he really contemplates it.

Mattheo looks down from the height he's on, no one would care anyway, the fall will kill him, might just give it an actual try unlike those previous attempts- he's been a coward all his life, never ready to face the extremes of life but he has nothing to protect at the moment, he's come far too long, life was never going to be worth it.

He climbs over the railing onto the brick ledge, sitting down for a moment, to take it all in for the last time ever. Mattheo remembers all the whispers that followed him, the suspicious looks passed along the way, those words of disdain- at the same time the thoughts of a happy life enter his mind, it all feels unattainable, in fact, he's so far gone he can't even picture joy, all he sees is bright colours when he thinks of a happy life.

Mattheo had desperately sought relief all his life, but the pain only worsened with time, it's only reasonable to want to end this feeling of hopelessness. The weight of his family's legacy feels heavy on his shoulders. He slouches over and looks down once again, sighing as his eyes shift to the ring on his finger, the other Gaunt ring, he slowly removes it- a pathetic heir he is, he doesn't deserve it, couldn't live up to the name, disappointing both sides of the world.

Maybe they should have destroyed this along with his father's ring but apparently, his dear sweet Nona thought he could change their fate, change the course of history, change the Gaunt legacy for the better, fuck- he couldn't even try and change people's perception about him. Even in this sense, he's nothing like his predecessors, incapable of leaving a mark, of changing the world, be it for the better or the worse. He's just fucking worthless- he fiddles with the ring as he shifts a bit closer to the edge, ready to let go of it.

"Nice ring," he turns around startled, "Mattheo, isn't it?" not Riddle? He hadn't heard his own name in a long time, no one had directly addressed him in years let alone called him by his first name. It all feels foreign, he simply nods not knowing what to say. "Do you mind if I join you?" you don't wait for a response though and carefully bend and climb through the gaps between the two rails, settling down beside him. "Hi, I'm-" he doesn't hear it, he's too focused on your face, you were dolled up, for the party he thinks, but then why are you here of all places? Was this some kind of prank? He steals a glance back at the entrance and the seemingly empty hallway, to see if anyone is waiting for a reaction.

"You know you shouldn't sit so close to the edge, you might fall down," you grab his forearm urging him to move back, your hand feels warm on his skin, it feels unnatural, his hands are always cold. Even though it's on him for a couple of seconds he can't help the multiple emotions going on about in his mind and before he can sort them out, his mouth decides to act on its own, "Why aren't you at the party?" "Oh-" you look disappointed, and he apologises right away, not wanting to upset the only person who had the decency to talk to him, "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked," he's quick to defend himself, it's a natural response after all but you only seemed amused, "No, it quite alright, I was just surprised by your voice-" "Is it that bad?" "Gosh no! It's just not what I expected, quite rough, it's nice," you are quick to shut him up, "And about your question, I am annoyed at my friends forcing me to try more drinks and all, I just came up here to relax."

"I can leave if you'd like," you add on as an afterthought, but you really didn't want to go, it was the only place with some peace, unlike the loud corridors and dorms, where you were mad at your friends and were in no mood for a party. "No, it's quite alright, I was just surprised," he tries to lighten the mood, repeating your words jokingly, it works, you laugh and properly look at him instead of the waters ahead.

"Haha so funny," you say in a monotonous voice, trying to act like you didn't just laugh but you can't contain your smile, and he finds it quite beautiful. You look down at the ring between the two of you, "it's a beautiful ring I must say," You compliment it again since he hadn't acknowledged it before. Mattheo thanked you quietly trying to think of a response that might not make you run away from him.

It's been only a few minutes and you've said more nice things to him than he has ever heard in his whole life, it's quite ridiculous when he thinks about it, seemingly you find it quite easy to compliment him. He stays quiet not knowing how to take a compliment, but you don't let the silence continue, you look around trying to find something to talk about and soon enough you start talking and he's glad, "You know about those plants right there?" you point to the shrubs at some distance from the castle walls. Mattheo shakes his head unable to recall if he had seen them before. "It's alright but now that you know, you have something to look forward to this upcoming month!" you smile yet again, cheerful that you have something to share.

"What's special about them?" "It's not the plant itself but the fireflies that live there!" Mattheo tries hard to keep up with your energy and pace, "Why aren't they out now? They aren't migratory, are they?" "That's what makes it special unlike fireflies that are present throughout the summer, these ones light up only for the last week of August," "I'll look forward to it," "You should! I missed it last year and then everyone thought I was lying when I mentioned it." Mattheo frowns, "No one knows about them? Not even the professors?" "The professors would know but it wasn't that serious that I'd take it up to them," Mattheo finds it difficult to relate, he always would let everyone know that he was in the right if the facts favour him because no way in hell would he let anyone see him in the wrong light, he couldn't bear to be in the wrong.

And it slips out his mouth, "I would've argued till they knew I was right," "I don't like arguing though, reminds me of my parents, they parted ways because they argued a lot, so I try to avoid it myself," his lips purse trying to think of an appropriate response, "Anyway, you are in Slytherin right?" it wasn't a question, you just knew, "I'm in Hufflepuff, nice to meet you!" you turn towards him and extend your hand with a smile, he can't help but mirror your smile, "Nice to meet you indeed." Your hand feels soft in his, he was finding it hard to let go but you pull your hand back almost instantly- remembering something, "OH right I forgot, do you like chocolates?" Mattheo was quite taken aback by your energetic self, it was infectious, "Of course you do, it's a silly question, I mean who doesn't like chocolate-" you stop midway and fix him with a scrutinising look, "Unless you are some heartless monster-" "Nah I like chocolate alright," "Good good."

You fish through your jacket's pocket and pull out two chocolate bars, "It's muggle chocolate," you place one in his hand, "Muggle? I've never had muggle candy," Mattheo inspects the small sweet in his hand, "You are missing out then!" you chuckle as you take the wrapper off yours, "I'll eat it tomorrow, thank you," He pockets it and looks ahead with a small smile, tonight's beautiful now that he looks at it.

"You are a muggle born then?" Mattheo can't help but want to know more, because how dare his fucking father go after your lot, "Yep, I was surprised you know? To receive the letter, I thought it was some prank but of course, after a few days I realised how real it was, couldn't have been happier, to be away from home." It's funny because all Mattheo wants to do is go back to the gloomy old mansion and here you were saying the opposite, the stark difference between the two of you was obvious to him.

You ramble on and he listens, it's nothing but enjoyable to listen to mundane stories being narrated with such interest, he finds himself smiling a bit too much, to the point where his face hurts but he doesn't care because you are quite the lovely company to be around.

Muggle-born, the same year as him, Hufflepuff, living with your mom- it's not the best back home he gathers that much. You were angry at your friends and were going to hold a grudge if they didn't apologise. He learned a lot about you in that one hour and learned a few things about him as well, he didn't know he had jokes like that OR you were just too kind to laugh at his bad quips, whatever it was he was grateful because you didn't make him feel bad or like a burden. Mattheo was glad that you were the talkative one and that you didn't expect him to share anything if he wasn't comfortable, also the fact that he didn't want to send you running away by talking more about himself.

He admires the fond smile you wear when you talk, the stars reflect a bit too brightly in your eyes, and he inhales breathing in your scent, it's surreal, the moment. Mattheo didn't quite think properly until you left, wishing him a good night, "it was nice spending time with you, Mattheo!" He wonders if you knew how much it meant to him.

...

He finds out your name the next day and sees you everywhere, it's annoying because he was tired since he couldn't sleep thinking all night about you and now he has to see your face again. Now that he knows you, he can't seem to avoid you, earlier it was easy to be blind but now, everything else seems like a blind spot but you. Or maybe it's that his head is not hanging low, avoiding looking up at people.

Mattheo got over the irritation rather quickly, discreetly looking at you, eyes following every movement of yours. But you don't look at him once, he was just like any other guy to you, the realisation both hurts and feels nice, knowing that you don't demonise him but also the fact that he's no one special either. And maybe, he can live with that.

He notices the large number of people you keep around, you are never alone, always surrounded by a group and you are always the one talking, you are clearly popular. How had he not noticed you before? But then again he knew no one in the school apart from the professors, he never tried to get to know anyone because of course his fate wouldn't allow that.

Mattheo seeks out the solace of the library to keep you out of his mind for a while but the plan doesn't seem to work when he finds the chocolate you gave him in his bag. He simply sighs, knowing that there is no escape, unwarps the sweet and pops it into his mouth, shutting his eyes, and recalls your sweet smile. Warmth takes over his body, it feels nice like this, he has to talk to you once again because that can't be the only interaction he has with you, not when it's all he can think about. He breathes out slowly, staring down at the wrapper and mindlessly reading the information on the back, his jaw tightens as he realizes his stupid pathetic feelings. Mattheo puts the wrapper in his quill case and tries to study with a head full of you.

...

Okay, now it was really starting to bother him, he practically couldn't keep his eyes off you, it's like a spell had charmed him in. He wasn't even trying to be discreet at this point, he downright stared at you from a distance, it was creepy, he was aware of that but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. Mattheo doesn't like this new feeling you've instilled in him, it's sweet and it's fucking uncomfortable. He finds it extremely difficult to get rid of you from his thoughts, so he gives up on trying and lets his mind go on autopilot.

The way you talked to him without any judgement in your eyes that day, the images of you repeated over and over again in his mind. Even when he sees you with someone else he can't help but think you are in front of him telling him a story, with those animated expressions of yours, but then seconds later he comes to his senses and sees the smile that's not directed at him, the one you gave to everyone, him too. He thinks it was your pity, that made you talk to him. He didn't feel like he was burdening you then but now when he thinks of approaching you, he knows he'd be burdening you. Your life looks no different, every day is full of joy, and you aren't smiling any less.

Why would you talk to him of all people? Perhaps, you only talked to him that day because you needed a change of scenery and not because you wanted to, he's wrong in thinking that but he's also deluded. It's the only way he keeps himself at peace, to not see meaning in your words, to not long for your company.

But he's a Riddle after all, some things just run in your blood, he has his eyes set on you and he finds it difficult to look away. New dream of his, and he'd like to have it, no matter how unattainable it feels. Yet he hasn't got a clue, it's all too new, and he doesn't know what to do, he'd like to have a plan but what would the plan even say? Go and talk to her? Yeah, like he's about to embarrass himself in front of her.

...

Your eyes stretch at the sight of him sitting in the library, alone but not in some deserted corner, he had claimed the whole couch in the centre of the room, sitting right in the middle, reading a book leaning back, a frown on his face. He looked intimidating, and to be honest, you were scared of him, the little beer in you that night had given you the courage to approach him, maybe your fate was too kind to let you find him that night but now your nerves were on fire.

It was no secret to you that he had been staring at you the past couple of weeks, but you couldn't understand the look on his face, his jaw was always clenched, eyes narrowed, and not a hint of emotion on his face. Was he mad at you? Was he the planning on-

No. You didn't like to think about it, you didn't want him to be the man they paint him as, he's just a boy, your age, maybe that's another reason why you hadn't approached him. Staying away because you were scared that they'd be right, you'd rather delve into what ifs than actually be heartbroken, your imagination brought you bliss.

But would it really be your mind if it would let you just forget it? You think and think, getting worked up over every little interaction you've had with him. How could he be evil? He talked to you so nicely the other day, even- even though you were a muggle-born, a mud blood. But when you see how he looks at you, you can't help but feel scared.

It really was an intimidating sight, your courage wore thin but you had made up your mind. You approach him cautiously, as you greet him, you start feeling jittery and flushed, "Hey Mattheo."

Mattheo jerked his head up as he heard your voice, surprised, caught off guard in fact, he didn't trust his words just yet so he simply nodded at you, acknowledging your presence, closing the book and setting it aside, all his attention on you. "I came here to study and noticed you," you look around bashfully before continuing, "I just wanted to ask you if you liked the chocolate I gave you the other day, you know the one with dark brown wrapper-" "Yeah I did," He stops you from rambling on, not that he had any problem with it but you clearly seemed nervous, he just wanted to ease your nerves, "Right so-" you quickly pull out a small pack of the chocolate from your sling bag placing it beside him, straightening up, "I'll go then, enjoy-" you are quick to turn away from him, cursing yourself in your mind, blaming yourself for making things more awkward than they already were.

Mattheo stops you in your tracks as he calls you by your name, you turn around, and he speaks in that cold voice of his, "You said you were here to study right?" you nod timidly, clutching onto the straps of your bag, he leans back and with a flick of his wrist, a table and chair are summoned in front of him, "then study," he motions to the chair opposite of him.

You were quite taken aback, you stood there for a bit before actually registering his words, and you quietly sat down, you didn't have it in you to disobey him, he was Mattheo Riddle for fucks sake, he looked and sounded like someone who doesn't take no for an answer.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you carefully sit down, looking down, not meeting his gaze, he couldn't believe it, you obliged his wishes? Mattheo leaned back fully, arms folding as he watched you, brown eyes capturing each detail, amusement crawled over his face as he watched you pull out multiple books all at once, various colourful stationery items sprawled out all over the table. You looked pretty like this, stray strands of hair framing your face, lips pursed in concentration. He knew how creepy he was being, so he opened his book again and tried to read but he simply couldn't not when you were sitting in front of him, he relished your presence and this was so unlike the others, every time he had looked at you- you had been surrounded by people, so it was a sight to behold, only for him to admire. So he did, in secret, glancing up at you, every few seconds.

It's been two hours and not once did he get bored of looking at you, a small smile lingered on his face as you closed your books and looked up at him, "How's that book?" you nod towards the book in his hand- the one he was supposed to be reading, "Good, good" he bites the inside of cheek as he lies through his teeth, "Got everything done?" he sets his book aside, fixing you with a soft stare, "Yes, I just wanted to revise a bit, I forget stuff easily if I don't revise regularly," you tilt your head a bit, his eyes were much softer now, and it made your heart flutter a bit, feeling a lot more comfortable than before, so you do what you usually do when you are comfortable- talk.

"By the way, did you study for the upcoming herbology test?" And before he could answer, you pulled out a piece of paper from your bag, "This is like the holy grail, a senior gave it to me last year, it has all the specifics, of recognising plants and how to make generalised guesses about their uses-" you speak in a hushed voice, slightly leaning over the table, eyes wide as you shared your little secret, "you can have it, I have it memorised haha" You bless him with that pretty smile of yours, pushing the paper towards him, you don't let him refuse the offer and start talking about something else, he gives you a small smile, and it makes your insides turn into mush, you bite your lip trying to contain your smile, eyes shy as you start fiddling with your hands on your lap.

You talked for hours, he was much more open this time, and the conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, it was you who mostly did the talking but he didn't seem to mind he looked more than pleased, he didn't like talking much, it seemed, so you filled in the gaps, made it look so effortless like it was easy talking to him, maybe it was easy for you but to him, it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. You two stopped only when the librarian came in and told you it was curfew time, your eyes widened as you turned to look back at him, an amused smile on your face, both of you got up, walking beside each other, not uttering a word till you were out of the librarian's stern gaze.

"I made you miss dinner-" your eyes widened further as soon as the two of you got out, stepping into the empty hallway, "it's alright, I don't mind," you playfully rolled your eyes at him, he chuckled at your antics, "yeah sure, but your stomach would, but- we can sneak into the kitchens, you know, sneak some food out," you wiggle your eyebrows at him with a sheepish grin on your face, he scoffs in disbelief, a fond smile gracing his face, "something tells me, this isn't your first time sneaking around."

"No, it's not," you chuckle a bit before continuing, "So, are you coming or not?" you purse your lips, looking up at him with doe eyes and he questions your motives right then because there's no way you didn't have a clue about what you were doing, "would be an idiot to say no," he muttered under his breath shaking his head, "I didn't catch that-", "Yes, I am."

You give him a pleased smile, you looked so happy at that moment, he was rooted in his position as you started walking ahead of him, he had to look away to catch his breath, "Merlin" he exhaled, a hand reaching over to his chest to soothe his loud thumping heart, and in that moment he knew he was a goner.

"Mattheo-?" you turned around since you didn't hear him walk with you but soon he rushed to your side the moment you looked back, you gave him another smile as he walked beside you, he looked straight ahead then, you needed to stop doing that because no fucking way- would he be able to let go of you.

You lead him to the kitchen, both of you cautious, well just you- he was having the time of his life, getting a detention would be worth it, just a small price to pay. Mattheo repeatedly stole glances here and there, the moment you entered the kitchen, you grabbed his arm and pulled his painfully slow self in, "gosh- you sure do walk slow," you glare at him, but there's no malice in your eyes, instead they are just amused, you roll your eyes when he just shrugs in response, moving over to the tables. Mattheo just looked at you with fond eyes, he was just trying to buy more time with you by walking slowly and he didn't feel one bit guilty about it, he felt a bit too proud.

You sigh dramatically before returning to him with a small tray in your hands, "I didn't find anything else, apart from these blueberry muffins," your eyes wander around once more trying to see if you missed something, "usually there's still stuff left, that's weird- oh well, at least we have these," you give him a small defeated smile, setting the tray on the table, shrugging as you felt that muffins weren't worth the effort of sneaking around and that you only troubled him further. Mattheo saw through you and he hated that you were feeling that way, "didn't I mention this to you? I love muffins, especially the blueberry ones." he gave you a small smile, picking up the muffin, taking a bite, "yeah, that's good, way better than the dry vegetable and chicken pies they make." He didn't look at you as he said that, but you smiled, realising what he was trying to do, you wanted to cry, why was he being so considerate? You were now beginning to go down a spiral, of all the times you thought of him in the wrong light, how dare you even think like that?

Mattheo caught you staring and it was hard for him to control the heat that rose to his cheeks, he cleared his throat, "What? You don't like these? Well, guess they are all for me-" he teased, taking the tray in his hand and started walking away, "Hey! No-" you rushed after him with an amused smile, "I want one too," and the tray was shoved back into your hands, "better not eat all of them, yeah?" he gave you a small cheeky wink, leaning against the table, finishing the muffin in his hand.

Mattheo offered to walk you back to your dorm, he didn't have to insist much, after all, you wanted to spend time with him too, you easily agreed after a couple of tries. You two walked in comfortable silence, as you neared the Hufflepuff dormitory, you were thinking about how you'd part ways, overthinking about what would be appropriate and in the mix of it, you just gave him an awkward side hug, squeezing his arm a bit before mumbling a quick "goodnight" and rushing in.

He couldn't believe his eyes, were you blushing? No way, he must be imagining things. Mattheo could still feel your warm touch lingering on his side, the scene playing over and over again in his mind, he wanted to scream out of excitement- he was getting cuteness aggression, had to be it, his fists clenched at his side as he stared at the door, for god knows how long, if he could- he would've squeezed you into a bone-crushing hug, but you were quick, left him speechless.

He walked back to the Slytherin dorm without any trouble, he closed the door behind himself and leaned back against it, he was pretty sure his skin was burning with all the warmth that was flowing through his veins. Merlin, he was embarrassing! Mattheo sighed contently, a big smile on his face as he replayed the whole day, your smile-

...

The next few days, you guys didn't talk at all, he was back to staring and this time, when you did catch him in the act, instead of pretending you didn't see him, you gave him a knowing smile and a wave. Lingering looks, and subtle greetings, were sweet, Mattheo was now on a new high, he couldn't get enough. But for some reason, he maintained his distance, he stuck to looking at you from afar, it felt comfortable this way, not wanting to taint your reputation by talking to you in front of others, he'd talk to you if it was only you but you were never alone.

Mattheo starts seeing life for what it is, when he looks at the trees outside, the castle in its entirety, he feels like he is seeing it for the first time. How had he missed this? He finds himself back at the astronomy tower, he looks at the lake ahead, it was a sight to behold, and he is starting to appreciate the view, these days he didn't care about much, you were all he could think about and you were more than pleasant, it was as if the grey lens of his life was replaced with a coloured one, and it would be foolish to credit anyone else but you for it, and he was fucking grateful for it. The reason he was here was, that it was the end of August, and the fireflies you so damn wished to see would be out tonight, he came here just in the hope that he'll get to see you alone.

He was zoning out when some movement near the edge of the lake caught his eye, it was you- with a few of your friends, his smile faltered the moment he saw some blonde Hufflepuff dude pull you to his side, slinging a hand over your shoulder, you all walked towards the shrubs and didn't have to wait long before the fireflies lit up and started raising above the shrubs. He was about to leave, he was mad for some reason, really pissed- but then he took another look at you. You were standing a bit behind your friends, who had all their attention on the flies ahead, you seemed sad, looking down, messing with the soil beneath your shoe, hands in your jacket. Mattheo could make out the pout on your face, the deflated shoulders, you then turned to look right where he was, and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

Your posture straightened immediately, the pretty smile returning to your face as you looked up at the astronomy tower balcony, having spotted him, you waved at him. Mattheo nodded, forearms on the railing as he leaned forward, a smile gracing his features, the anger leaving him. You excitedly pointed at the sky, and he nodded, you turned back around when your friend called you and he couldn't look away, he was staring at you till you left, Mattheo started feeling the warmth creep up to him when he saw you making an effort to steal back glances at him. He felt seen, fucking special-

...

Mattheo still hadn't talked to you, he couldn't catch you alone really, it was starting to get to him, he longed to hear your voice, hear you talk to him- and yet, he didn't have it in him to approach you in front of others, it would ruin you, you thrived in the company of others, he couldn't snatch that away from you. Maybe if he was a bit more selfish, he'd do it, snatch you away from others, have you all to himself but he wasn't about that life, it was something his father would do, he's sure of it, go after what he wants, not caring what others would think-

Mattheo feels like passing out when you deliberately look at him just to give him a shy smile, a flushed look on your face. He walks away because he cannot handle looking at you, the urge is too strong, to just take you into his arms, he walks out to the empty hallway, a hand over his chest- it had become a subconscious habit of his, whenever you gave him that smile, the one that felt like it was just reserved for him, yeah that one, he felt like he was in heaven, you sent his heart rate through the roof when you did that, it borderline hurt him since he couldn't do much to satiate this feeling.

The longing was etched into his eyes when he looked at you, one thing he realised was, that when he had his head up, no one dared to look his way, he was enjoying that power for some reason, it filled his veins with something dark, he liked seeing people look down instead of him looking down, it felt fucking nice, and it felt even better when the only person that did look at him, was you. People averted their eyes when he entered the room, choosing to ignore his presence but the fear was very much evident, so he knew they didn't see him staring at you but at this point, he really couldn't bring himself to make an active effort to look away even if someone noticed.

It was no lie, that Mattheo wasn't up to date with all the gossip and news, he just lived life passively but now that he was out there more, he couldn't help but hear the words that fell onto his ears, Yule Ball, huh. WAIT- ball dance? That meant having a date, who were you going with? Fuck his mind was rambling shit to him, he could not let someone else take you to a fucking dance as their date, no, he wouldn't let that happen. He had to get to you before someone else did, it was nighttime, and tomorrow's the weekend, approaching you will be the first thing he'll do after he wakes up, he has to plan shit out, you know, make it special and heartfelt, you deserved nothing less.

But his heart nearly broke when he overheard two Slytherin guys talking about you. The way one of them talked about you made his blood boil, his jaw clenched tight, nails drawing blood from his palms as they dug into his coarse skin, "I told you not to ask her out, plenty of guys tried and guess what? She rejected them all." the guy who was being talked to only scoffed angrily, "She's a fucking slut, that's what she is, leading people on-" the other boy just stopped him and Mattheo exhaled, a bit relieved because if it wasn't for him, Mattheo would've smacked the guy and pushed him to the fucking wall, "dude, come on, that's not true, all she did was smile at you when you gave her your seat, she's a nice girl," these guys were in the fifth year, he recognised that much, "sure, whatever," the guy walked away to his room, making sure to loudly slam the door behind him.

Mattheo then gets up and walks towards the guy left behind, the one who stood up for you, when he stands in front of him, he sees the dude cower into the seat, Mattheo tries to speak in a polite voice but the anger is still radiating off him, his irritated stare didn't help either, "she doesn't have a date, yeah?" his hands were behind his back, over one another, the blood still fresh, "who-o?" the guy stutters out, looking around for help but no one was there- "You know who," he fixes him with a glare, before uttering your name out loud, "no no, she doesn't, rejected them all." Mattheo then nods at him and leans back, then finally he walks back to his room, allowing the guy to catch his breath.

Mattheo feels relief wash over him as he lets the information sink in, okay good, you didn't have a date but then again, why were you rejecting them all? What if you reject him as well? Yeah, he couldn't handle that wound, he'd fucking die, he contemplates whether he should ask you or not but he's done fucking waiting, waiting for his fate to fuck things over, if things are going to be fucked, he'll be the one to do it.

...

Mattheo puts on a black shirt and black pants, not caring to tuck his shirt in, the cold metal ring stings him as he puts it on, the feeling is grounding, he's doing something his dad would've done and for some reason that doesn't feel half as bad, he feels like himself, it was like something had possessed him, the confidence was unwavering, even as he stepped out into the crowded hallway, hands in his pockets, looking ahead, people parted, giving him space and Merlin, did that feel fucking powerful. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he approached the room you'd be in, you always were there on the weekends, with your friends and he didn't think before he stepped into the room, heads turning towards him in shock, even yours but the shock on your face was soon replaced with a smile, quietly waving at him and that right there, fed right into his ego.

He walked over to you in a few quick strides, eyes zeroed in on you, nothing else mattered at that moment, "Can I talk to you?" To say you were surprised would be an understatement, you were ecstatic, you've wanted this for so long, to talk to him in front of others, you never knew if you should because he might've felt uncomfortable, "Yes ofcourse, what is it?" you nod, a smile still on your face, "Alone," his voice was cold, "oh yeah, sure-" you step towards him, thinking he'd lead you somewhere private but he stayed rooted in his place, eyes never leaving yours, he stayed quiet for a bit, taking in your whole self, the bright clothes you were dressed in, the equally bright smile on your face. Then he looked over your head, to the shocked faces of your friends, "Alone." It came out as an order, he couldn't care less.

Mattheo liked this newfound authority, he also relished in the fact that you were being so compliant as if you wanted this to happen and he couldn't be more glad, "Guys, I'll be back, you can go ahead, don't worry," you explained, seeing their hesitance, his unwavering gaze was back on you, brown eyes were intense. The apprehensive group slowly emptied the room and just went the last person was out, Mattheo muttered something under his breath, and the door slammed shut, locking itself.

Mattheo cursed that pretty smile of yours before smiling back, "You have a date? For the ball?" you lowered your eyes to the ground at the question, a shy look grazing your features as you shook your head, the more he looked at you, the more positive he got. "Good." He finally pulled his hands out of his pocket and suddenly there was a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hand and a velvet box, he wordlessly handed them to you, your eyes were wide, full of amusement, face warm, you noticed how the lights around you got dimmer, the small mock firefly charms that floated in the air, you didn't have a clue on how he was doing all this without his wand but you couldn't bring yourself to think of it, not when you had him standing in front you, in all his glory, about to ask you to the ball, gosh you felt like you were on cloud nine, the guy you were waiting for had actually approached you? You had to be dreaming.

Then out of nowhere, you hear your favourite song but on strings, you look down at the box curiously- "It's the muggle chocolate you were talking about, the one you said was hard to get your hands on," he shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal but in reality, he was finding the courage to finally tell you what he was feeling, ask you out. Your brows pinched together, as you noticed that all of it was a muggle, even the flower arrangement- the song, how did he do all of this? You looked up at him with an amused look. "No questions please," he breathed out like he was out of breath, you then smiled at him gratefully, and he quickly averted his eyes, his hand subconsciously reaching over to his chest, "Oh Merlin," he exhaled quietly, not being able to look back at you.

He then slowly gathered the courage to look back at you, you were just looking at him patiently, the smile still on your face, Mattheo cleared his throat before opening up, "I have never been the one to be graceful but I want to do this properly." he inhaled sharply before continuing, "Ever since that night, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, I think I've gone mad honestly," He lets out a dry chuckle shaking his head, looking into your eyes, "I think I've taken a liking to you, your voice, your smile-" and then he interrupts himself, forgetting the little speech he prepared as he watches your smile widen at his words, "yeah that, more of that please," and that makes you blush, the genuine interest in his eyes, the way admiration shines in his eyes, you are so close to him, that you can hear his heart thumping loudly, "I'd like to have the honour of taking you to the ball," then he says your name quietly, "would you like be my date?"

"Yes yes!" you couldn't be more excited, you are quick to throw your arms around him, and all the worries leave his body as soon as he is subjected to your embrace, he closes his eyes, pulling you closer, finding everything comfortable in your grip. His heartstrings thrum at the moment, it was embarrassing how quickly you got him flustered but he didn't seem to mind it. He whispered a small "thank you," before hugging you tighter, you just giggled into his chest and Merlin, did he feel like he had just won the lottery.

...

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