#and the littles try so hard to mask when. all they want to be themselves

[dandelion-system]

If I could ask one thing of my mum it’s that she stopped calling alters ‘invaders’ or ‘intruders’. We all have a right to live in this body and experience whatever emotions we want. Our palatability to you does not mean we shouldn’t get to be here.

[missglaskin]

“You’re such a perv!” 

Aka DC Superheroes as pervs; Dick, Jason, Tim, Roy, Wally

Please don't put a community label on this (it will only shadow ban it)

Surely your friend and confidant is not some peeping tom right?!

Warnings/tags; SMUT, female reader, vigilante!reader, Perv shenanigans, panty stealing, masturbation, dirty thoughts, corruption kink, invasion of privacy

Dick Grayson has always been your closest friend; he's the leader, the guy that everyone either wants to be like or wants him for themselves. But the boy wonder had his eyes on you, his oblivious friend. He has always been there, aiding you in missions; always saving the day, or praising you for a job well done. So how could you ever possibly know of his intense desire just for you. Dick knows his actions are downright disgusting, that small voice inside his head filling him with guilt, but his desire is just stronger. 

Missions with you are the worst. Watching you be so confident and just kick ass has him feeling all sorts of ways. Trying to turn away from your line of sight so you won't see his hard-on, his cock rubbing uncomfortably against his suit. Dick will use any excuse to get away, jerking off on the side of a rooftop, a hand against a wall and another stroking his cock, while he imagines it was your hand instead, and that alone pushes him over the edge. 

He'll find a way to make you want him too, Dick knows you're not immune to his charms. Will it be too obvious that when he goes for a hug, it's a little too tight. Is it when he places a hand on your waist pretending to keep you in place, daring his fingers to go further down. Will you push away the hands that place themselves on your thighs to pretend he's comforting you. You won't. Just as you refuse to shove away the fingers that inch closer and closer between your legs. Is it really so bad if you want him too.

--------------

Jason Todd knows he's a sick fuck. What kind of friend is he to even think of such things. But they are just thoughts, right? As long as he doesn't do anything creepy that is. Surely anyone dreams of fucking their best friend-that is, imagining your lips wrapped around his dick while he fists your hair, forcing you to take all of him. The guilt returns when your voice reaches him, asking him if he heard you, interrupting his brief moment of fantasy. He's relieved that the mask doesn't allow you to see how intensely he's staring at you.

It becomes a line he knows he crossed. When Jason found himself staring at your apartment window - he didn't intend to, he was just patrolling and happened to come across your apartment. Knowing you were safe and well should have been his reason to leave, until you started undressing. Seeing your tits exposed made the blood rush to his cock and when you bent slightly to remove your panties, Jason was sure he could have come right on the spot. 

You went to take a shower as Jason entered your apartment. Surely you must know to keep your window locked. Finding himself creeping toward the bathroom as if you were beckoning him in, instead, he stopped and stood over the disregarded clothes; reaching for the panties. Jason would have beaten anyone to a bloody pulp if they had done that, but it was his own reflection staring at him. He is a sick fuck, he thinks as his finger brushes over the damp spot and how he shoves it into his pockets. He's not sure if he should return your panties later, given that he eagerly rubbed his cock with it, leaving it cum stained.

-----------

Tim Drake is a wolf in sheep's clothing; he is the one person you never suspect of thinking such perverted thoughts. Tim is aware he can never justify the things he's doing. He just tells himself that he merely lacks the courage to approach you, not that it's a good reason, but it's enough for him to maintain that tiny sliver of morality. There are moments when he wishes he could just concentrate on his patrolling to keep you off his mind, but you are always there, at the back of his mind. 

Tim realizes he just can't get off without thinking about you. Tim tries watching some porn, but he keeps imagining your face instead of the actress, and he hates how it helped him reach his orgasm. Or in the mornings, when his boner is becoming too much of an issue and he's in the shower trying to rid of it. His thoughts wander to picturing you in front of him, bare and wet, with your back against the glass walls and you moaning his name. 

If there was ever a time that Tim was made known that he was really sick was that day. Him laying in bed stroking his cock and seeing the phone ringing in the corner. It's you. He ought to have just let it ring or decline, but Tim didn't know what possessed him to answer the call. Your voice is heard as he bites his lip to not let his whimpers be heard, tasting copper on his tongue. Tim moves the phone further away when he reaches his high, cum covering his hands and stomach as he continues the conversation, hoping you don't hear his ragged breath.

-----------

Roy Harper was the one person you could always confide in. He had a way of cheering you up, your tears dried as your laugh echoed throughout the room. How you consider him to be your closest friend and best partner in crime as you speak to him, while Roy thinks of how the low cut of your shirt gives him a good view of your tits from an angle. When you call his name to get his attention, Roy gives you that smile of his as he uses an excuse to use the restroom. 

Roy loves taking pictures of you. You knew Roy had them, just never imagined he would have them in his sights while he jerked off. Pictures of you with a skirt had Roy fantasize about wearing em while he's railing you from behind. Your face pressed against the pillow while you bubble nonsense, too drunk on his cock. Pictures of you looking up, had him fantasizing of you staring at him with those eyes of yours as you use your mouth, bobbing up and down on his dick.

Unaware too Roy had 'private' photos, all thanks to a few hacking tricks. Roy was occasionally tempted to send you a nude photo of himself, see how you react, and cover it up by saying it was a 'mistake'. Would you perhaps return one or get jealous wondering who it was intended for. Roy gets up, cleaning himself as he’s planning to you meet you later that day. He eyes the slightly crooked tile above his ceiling, storing all the belongings he's taken from his visits to your place. Roy thinks when the two of you are official, he should hide it in a better place.

—-----------

Wally West had plenty of opportunities to hint at his feelings toward you. He liked making flirtatious comments, complaining when he wasn't paired with you during missions, and placing an arm over your shoulders. But you just assume it's Wally's typical self, not noticing his hurt look when you claimed to be "just friends". Then again you never noticed his hurried departure and quick return, where he avoided making eye contact at all costs.

Wally feels the guilt the most. He could have just confessed to you like a normal person. Guilt consumes him when he sees your gullible smile, unaware of the horrible things he did behind your back. It's not his fault really; he was invited to your place and was simply looking around until he found a certain drawer. Wally reassures himself it's not that bad if he only takes one. But it gets to a point where you're complaining to Wally about how your clothes disappear (not telling him which kind).

A point comes where Wally reaches his breaking point. The sneaky pictures, lying on your bed when you weren't around, face in the pillows to inhale your scent could do so little. As he stares at you speaking, Wally makes a move expecting to be rejected, but you kiss him back. He was in heaven, the dreams he had in every waking point coming true. He was where he wanted you to be, on top with you full of his cock, your eyes nearly blacked out as he slams his hips repeatedly into yours. Can you blame him for moving too fast when he has been holding back for so long. 

[happy74827]

One Call Away

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: During one of his "jobs," Deadpool gets a call from his favorite gal [GIF Creds: jdsheart]

WC: 1970

Category: Fluff, Major Comedy {TW: Deadpool’s Humor/Nonfiltered Personality}

This man is so hard to write. I’m always stressing the noggin when it comes to planning and plotting 😔

『••✎••』

"And away we go..."

One neck crack and a couple of hip twists later, he was off like Aladdin and his fucktoy carpet, scaling the building similarly to a chameleon on LSD.

The only thing that was missing was some epic music.

He'd been chasing this baddie around the city for almost two days now. Some big-shot mob boss with ties to Hydra, or the Mafia, or the Yakuza, or some other three-letter-acronym organization. It was hard to keep track of them all at this point. They were all the same, except for the name.

They all had their own agenda.

Kill him, keep him prisoner, pay him off...

Wade never cared enough to listen because it was always the same. He just got hired to do the dirty work, and the pay was good.

The killing was better.

This one, however, was particularly good at eluding him. He'd been trying to get his hands on this man for a few days now. It wasn't as though he was trying to be stealthy or anything, either. He'd walked right up to his front door, knocked, and was greeted with a spray of machine gun bullets.

So, the usual.

But then the guy ran and didn't stop. It was like the fucking Roadrunner met Sonic the Hedgehog, and they decided to fuck around and find out.

Wade was getting real sick and tired of being a Roadrunner, too. He had a reputation to uphold. He wasn't known as the Merc with the Mouth for nothing. He was supposed to be the one doing the running and the killing.

Not the other way around.

Finally, finally, he managed to reach the roof where the guy was currently taking cover behind a small brick shack. The sun was rising, but it was still dark, and there were a couple of floodlights shining on the rooftop. It made him think of the night he'd had that heart-to-heart with Blind Al, even though all she really wanted was for him to bring her some of that special brownie mix.

What a night that had been.

But anyway, this monologue is starting to get too long, and we should probably move things along, eh?

Right.

So, the baddie.

His name was something long and non-English.

Salvatore, or Santino, or Salvation... Whatever the fuck it was, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was time to make him dead.

He stepped around the corner and was met with a spray of bullets, all of which lodged themselves into his Kevlar vest.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled over the sound of the gunfire. "This is real leather, you know. I'm tired of all the offscreen sewing and shit."

When the spray finally ended, he took a moment to catch his breath.

"…ow," he whispered to himself.

"You shouldn't have followed me here," the man said.

"Yeah, whatever," Deadpool replied. "Look, I'll make this easy for you. You drop down and give me fifty, and I'll let you keep that hideous mustache you're sporting."

The man's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"Yes, yes it is," Deadpool assured him. "You got a squirrel living in it or something?"

"It's just a little bit of gray, you dick," the man argued. "What about you? What's with the mask? Are you hiding a mustache under there, too, or something? Maybe some acne scars?"

Deadpool shook his head and stepped forward, his guns drawn.

"Don't come any closer!"

"You know, this would be much more intimidating if you didn't look like a cartoon mouse."

"Stop it with the mustache!"

"Alright, alright," Deadpool said. "Enough with the mustache. But what is it about your hairline? I can't put my finger on it."

The man sighed in exasperation and pulled out his pistol, aiming it right at Deadpool's face.

"Hey now, don't point that at me," Deadpool scolded him. "That's not a very nice thing to do."

He ignored him and pulled the trigger, a loud boom ringing out as the bullet fired. It whizzed by him but missed its mark.

"You really are a dick," He grumbled before aiming his gun right between the man's eyes. And he was going to shoot, honest.

He really was.

But then his phone rang, and he was well-reminded of the current song playing through his head.

I'm a buff baby that can dance like a man. I can shake-ah my fanny, I can shake-ah my can!

Needless to say, he was distracted.

He lowered his gun and looked down at his pocket, where his phone was still ringing and still vibrating against his leg.

"Shit, hold that thought," He said to the guy, and he holstered his gun.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?!"

Deadpool put his finger up to shush him before pulling his phone out of his pocket to answer it.

If you're an evil witch, I’ll punch you for fu—

"Heyyyy," he said in a sing-songy voice, "you've reached the phone sex hotline. For kinks and fetishes, press one. For booty calls, press two. For your favorite mercenary, press three."

"Ey, pendejo—" His opponent started, but he cut him off by snapping and raising his finger.

"Cut it, Tuco Salamanca. Breaking Bad called and wants its meth-cooking mustache back."

"Wha-I-you-"

"Anyways, this is your favorite merc speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

"Is this a bad time?"

Wade's eyes widened in shock, and his jaw dropped open when he heard her voice on the other end of the line.

"Baby girl! Is that you? Oh, how I've missed your voice. It's like hearing an angel, or an angelic chorus, or a whole bunch of angels, but you're the most important one. Like, the lead singer or something."

"I literally saw you last night." Your voice was always drenched with the most amazing kind of sarcasm, and he'd missed it.

"And?"

"It's only been a few hours."

"And?"

"That's a short amount of time."

"And?"

You sighed, but he knew you weren't really annoyed.

"Anyways, you sounded busy," you continued, "so I'll just let you go."

"What?! No! Don't hang up!" He shouted into the receiver. "I've only fiddled with my pistols! Nothing interesting is happening right now!"

"Your pistols, huh?" You asked a hint of mischief in your voice.

"Well, yeah. They're the most important part of the mission, you know."

In the corner of his eye, he could see his target making his way towards the edge of the building. Quickly and efficiently, without dropping his attention from his conversation with you, he lifted his gun and fired a shot at the man's knee.

"Ah, fuck!" the man screamed in pain. "My knee!"

"Hey! Language!" Deadpool scolded him. "The lady of the house is listening!"

"Lady of the- what the fuck?!"

"I said language, you mustachioed rat!"

"Mustachioed rat?" You asked.

"Sorry, babe," he replied. "You know how excited I get when Downtown Abbey is on."

“There’s gunshots in Downtown Abbey?"

"Gunshots? Oh, no, no. That was… uh, a car alarm. Yeah, the neighbor's car alarm was going off."

"Uh-huh," you said, not sounding very convinced. And, of course, that was right around the time the guy's gun went off again, this time hitting him square in the shoulder. It made the phone fall out of his hand and clatter onto the ground, but the call was still connected.

"Dammit!" He yelled, looking at the fresh blood dripping down his arm. "That's gonna take forever to heal!"

"Who are you talking to?" The man demanded, his gun still aimed at Deadpool's face. "You're working with someone?"

"Hey, now, I don't remember giving you permission to talk," Deadpool told him, holding his bloody arm up to his face. "Look, I've gotta call you back, babe. I know it's been so heartbreakingly long—"

"Again, only a few hours," you said.

"—but duty calls. Love you, bye."

"Love you, bye."

With that, the line disconnected.

"Ugh," he groaned, his heart aching for the loss of your sweet voice. "I miss her already."

"Ey," his opponent growled, drawing his attention. He started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, which Deadpool didn't really understand, but he didn't have to. The guy was just ranting and raving.

"Alright, alright, chill," Deadpool said. "Just calm down. It’ll all be over soon, little buddy."

"I am not little! I am a giant!" The guy protested, and Wade could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "And I will not chill!"

"Well, can't argue with that, I guess," Deadpool said with a shrug, and he took aim. But before he could pull the trigger, the guy was running again.

"Hey, what did I tell you about running?!" He yelled, but his voice fell on deaf ears as the guy reached the ledge.

"I am a giant!"

"No, you're a giant asshat!"

"I will not be bested by some masked buffoon!"

"Buff? Me? Why, I never!"

"You're the biggest asshole I've ever met!"

"You know what? I am a big ass! A big, round, bubbly ass." He paused for a second. "Hey, what's your favorite flavor?"

"Fuck you, you red-clad imbecile!"

"You know, I'd ask you out to dinner first, but we're kinda past that now."

"Argh!"

"Alright, enough stalling," Deadpool said. "It's time to end this."

"Yes," the guy said, turning his gun back on Deadpool. "It is."

Of course, Deadpool being the smart-ass he was, he'd already taken a step to the side. As the bullet whizzed past him, he reached for his gun.

"Now, where did I put that thing? Oh, there it is."

He aimed the gun and fired, and the man fell back onto the ground. The bullet hit him right in the middle of his forehead, his blood splattering all over the concrete.

"Ha ha! Fatality. Deadpool wins!" He said, his voice taking on the deep, grounded tone of the narrator from Mortal Kombat. "Flawless Victory."

He stood over the body for a few seconds, reveling in his victory, before he felt the presence of another.

The gun on his right side got ripped from its holster, and the barrel was aimed back into his face, as it always seems to be.

But, he already sensed it was coming, so his fingers wrapped around his other and aimed that right in the golden spot… and let’s just say, The Golden Girls was a little less golden and a lot more crimson.

"Wow, this has got to be a record," He said as he bent down to stare at the new one’s anguish. "Two dead ugly mustaches in the same day. You can call me Sweeney Todd because shit… I just shaved you the fuck up."

He didn’t give the poor bastard a chance to even whimper before he fired another two shots into the man's head. All in all, this had been the easiest payday he'd had in a while.

He picked up his cell phone and slipped it back into its pocket before bending down and scooping up the mustache man's pistol.

"Ooh, lookie here, a nice, shiny new pistol," he said to himself. "Just what I've always wanted. Well, I don't actually need it. It's not like I have any other holes in my body, but you know what they say. The more the merrier."

He stuffed the gun in his holster and turned around, heading back the way he'd come.

"Time to get back to the good stuff," he said. "I have a date with my favorite girl."

He hopped up onto the ledge and looked down, his eyes locking on the window to his apartment.

And when he arrived, bloody and battered, you could only smile while holding up little ole Mary Puppins in all her drooling glory.

God, how he missed his girls.

[fallenneziah]

okokok so completely obsessed with alpha!ghost and omega!reader now. thanks [ this is genuine i promise ] maybe possibly a continuation with Ghost finally marking reader as his?

Wow, so this is blowing up, but hey, I'm not complaining. I'm glad you guys like it. I hope those of you who asked outright for a part three don't mind of I tag you so you get to see it. Ask and you shall receive 😊 @ghostspuppy @abeltesfayefangirl and @xiangping-28

Alpha!Ghost and Omega!Reader pt 3

In case you haven't seen it you can check out part 1 and 2 and 4

Alpha!Ghost who can feel his own hormones go absolutely rampant every time his knot is deep inside you. Watching it drip from your hole, his teeth gritting. If he was a pup his tail would be between his legs. The alpha inside him continually frustrated that he can't knock you up.

Omega!Reader who promised themselves that there would be a constant use of their pill until they were mated. And only then.

Alpha!Ghost who is frustrated. Gradually with every other day and the amount of seed he pumps into you with the fantasy of plugging you good and getting pups inside you.

It wasn't a want anymore, it was a need.

Alpha!Ghost who is used to being in spaces with other alphas. Their the majority of base. Johnny, Price, and some others. While Gaz was a beta, but you were the only one. And because of that. There was competition.

Omega!Reader who knows the hungry stares all too well and are constantly squirming under heated gazes that drag over their body.

Omega!Reader that is wanted after and chased by those cocky enough to get in the time. Pinning you to a wall, purring against your ear and asking you out. It makes your knees weak, your omega can't help it when talking to an alpha.

Omega!Reader who is practicing in the gym, sweat and pheromones leaking into their space in their concentration.

Omega!Reader who is approached by a cocky alpha from across the room, saying something about your dainty little arms.

"How about I take those for you love, wouldn't want you hurting your back." He winks, grinning those pearly, slightly sharp teeth at you.

You disagree, sitting up and reaching over for the weight back, frowning.

Omega!Reader who gets pulled in, feeling hands groping from their ass up their spine, the alpha growling softly as his mouth reaches yours, feeling you how utterly intoxicating you smell.

Omega!Reader who whimpers, trying to nudge away and back up, their limbs feeling sorer than usual and the alpha holding on tightly.

Alpha!Ghost who is used to redundant flirting between alphas and betas, but when he catches sight of you in the gym, another Alpha touching you. Groping you...

Alpha!Ghost who does not hesitate, boiling anger rising in him as he pries the alphas hands off you, stepping between your body and his, staring down at the bold soldier.

Alpha!Ghost who is twice as big and twice as nasty, shoulders rolling back as he pushes the soldier. Sharper teeth in his face, like an animal scrapping for a carcass.

"You don't put one slimy hand on them, got it?" He'd growl deeply, shoving the soldier around easily.

Omega!Reader who feels their flutter in a way they haven't before when they smell the two scents clashing and Ghost shoving the man away. Getting protective of you. Protecting what was his.

Alpha!Ghost who makes the soldier run off and with heavy breathing turns to you. What is his.

Omega!Reader who rushes to Ghost, thanking him, your scent drowning him from his ears to his lungs. Your sweet voice and your scent choking him out. It's got him getting hard already.

Alpha!Ghost who decides to not let a single alpha hurt you or try anything again. Alpha Ghost who picks you up and brings you to his room.

Alpha!Ghost whose turn it is to show you his den properly, nestling you into his pillows, pulling off his mask and kissing you softly.

Alpha!Ghost whose kisses trail all the way down from your neck, to each sensitive part of you, feeling the way your body reacts and your breathing changes.

Omega!Reader who knows what Ghost's intentions are, and won't fight it.

"What... Will you do with me??" You ask as his mouth kisses past your belly button.

His eyes look up into your, a dangerous glint in them. Love, possessiveness, passion.

"I'll make you mine... No one will ever touch you."

Alpha!Ghost who is possessive enough to think the idea of tattooing his name right about your sex gets him harder than he thought. The idea of his scent being all over you, and his bite, and his mark. You would be his. In every way you were his and no one could touch you.

Alpha!Ghost who is determined that of all the times you'd laid with him this would be the best. Spending more time kissing you and whispering to you how much he wants it. Fingering you and getting your sloppy entrance ready for him.

Omega!Reader whose breathing is all over the place, moaning and their stomach flipping in excitement at the idea of being mated. And being mated to him. Strong enough to keep you safe, satisfied and happy.

Alpha!Ghost who takes it slow, teasing you. Kissing up your thighs, his cockhead grazing your hole, pushing to the skin and then pulling away, making you whimper. Ghost who could spend all day just listening to you making those sweet sounds for him.

"Gonna put it in, love..." He finally said, gripping his cock and pressing it in, sliding his thick length inside you.

Omega!Reader who is wrapped around Ghost's finger once again, back arching and trying to present still, with their insides full of him and his cock.

Alpha!Ghost who tried to be gentle, but after some time of watching your soft facial expression as his cock dragged in and out of you he needed more. His cock speeding up, finding his usual pace and thrusting himself deep inside you.

"Oh fuck... Always feel so bloody good for me, sweetheart-" He curses, his balls heavy with the thought of filling you and mating you.

Omega!Reader who is in the mating press, completely caged by his arms and unable to wriggle anywhere. His lips tracing your neck, licking the skin as his cock drives in and out of you with reckless abandon.

Alpha!Ghost who thrusts his hips violently in you, the idea of sinking his teeth into you. Breathing heavy against your neck, his chest pinned to you.

"Oh love.... Always feel so fuckin' good on my cock- oh fuck." He moans, hands clawing into your sides to keep you perfectly pinned under him.

Alpha!Ghost who can't help feeling so hot, needing this so badly.

"Fuck... You still on that pill baby?"

"Y-Yeah..." You choke out through his rough pounding.

Ghost practically whines, his cock swelling with his knot. He wanted to fuck his seed into you, he wants it to latch on and grow. He wants pups in you. He wants them so badly.

Alpha!Ghost who bites down on your neck, sinking his teeth into your flesh. Hearing you cry out and moan loudly as he marks you makes him cum. Spilling seed inside you, fucking you down on his knot, forcing it into your pretty little hole. Cumming harder than before.

Omega!Reader who can feel the bite mark, who can feel Ghost. Feeling him pull them up and rest their back to his chest, knot swelled up deep inside.

Alpha!Ghost who still insists on pampering his new mate, massaging your sex with his hand, making you whimper and quiver. His knot stuffed full in you, his hand on you, it makes you cum again.

Alpha!Ghost who purrs deeply against your neck, nuzzling you and rubbing his scent all over you. You smile softly as he rubs his cheek and chin all over your face and neck, purring as he covers you. His scent lingering on yours.

Alpha!Ghost who is content knowing you're his... You're his now. And no one else's.

Alpha!Ghost who watches you slip into a subspace, taking the time to care over every inch of you. Wrapped in his arms, warmly holding you, taking care of you as gingerly as he could.

Omega!Reader whose finally pulled off his knot and laid in bed, Ghost resting between their shoulders, feeling their fingers in his short hair. Still deeply purring from the bliss of having you as his mate. Kissing you everywhere, snuggling you up in his arms.

Alpha!Ghost who watches your droopy eyes flutter, still not fully here. But he keeps you close, kissing the top of your head.

"Now you're mine... My perfect mate."

Alpha!Ghost who had never considered having a mate.. but he's glad he chased it, and he's glad it's you.

[itneverendshere]

we say we’re different but we got the same eyes - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you needed to stop taking other people shift’s. 

it’s not like you wanted to, but at least they were paying you to do so, enough to let you actually chill this summer without stressing about rent or whatever else adulthood decided to throw at you.

all you had to do was show up and do the job. first at lila’s dinner, now at the bougie country club, as a cart girl.

you’d done this before, and sure, the old men were always a little too handsy with their beer guts hanging over their tacky polos, but at least they tipped well. you could tolerate them. smile, giggle at their half-assed jokes, and let them feel like they still had it. 

fine. pay me for my pain, grandpa. 

today however, instead of your usual sugar-daddy wannabes, you were babysitting frat boys. fresh out of their first year of college, probably still hungover from their last keg stand.

nineteen-year-old idiots in pastel shorts and backwards hats, making everything about themselves.

“bro, you remember that party at kappa? dude, swear i blacked out after like, five shots.”

wow, five whole shots? congrats, you absolute child. should i get you a sticker for that?

don’t even get started on their conversations about girls. one of them, chad or brad or whatever his stupid name was, just had to loudly detail how some poor innocent girl “totally wanted him last night but was playing hard to get.”

yeah, bro, she was probably just trying to get through the night without having to mace your entitled ass.

it was constant. the whole damn morning. all they talked about was frat parties, girls they didn’t deserve, and how they "couldn’t wait to get back to school."

you'd give anything to remind them how utterly irrelevant their frat status was in the real world, but you couldn’t. nope. you had to keep your game face on, pour their drinks, and pretend like they weren’t giving you a headache that rivaled your worst hangovers.

at least the elderly snobs tipped well. sure, they were pretentious and acted like you were beneath them, but they'd slip you a twenty or more with a smug little wink. that made it easier to tolerate their "i’ve been golfing here since before you were born" bullshit.

but these brats?

half the time they forgot to tip at all, and when they did remember, it was a crumpled five like they were doing you some grand favor. and of course, of course, they couldn’t just keep their obnoxious, beer-breath comments to themselves. no, they had to make it worse by hitting on you—hard. 

painfully hard. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, except instead of pulling over to help, you were stuck right in the middle, praying someone would just tow your ass out.

“yo, what’s your name again?” one of them asks. bryce, probably. his face just screams bryce.

he's leaning against the cart like he thinks it's going to make him look cool, but really, he’s just sloshing his drink all over the place. classy.

“it’s on my name tag,” you deadpan, pointing to the little badge pinned to your polo. you're not about to give him any more than that.

but he's not letting it go. “oh yeah? cute name for a cute girl. you single or what?”

jesus christ. here we go.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of your head. 

“’m here to work,” you sigh, voice sweet enough to mask the absolute disdain you're feeling. you know what comes next.

they always think they can charm you if they just keep going, like you are some kind of challenge.

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” another one chimes in, this one wearing sunglasses even though it's barely 9 a.m.

who do you think you are, pitbull? 

he gives you this sleazy grin like he thinks he's smoother than he actually is. “we could take you out after your shift. grab a drink. bet you’re fun, huh?”

fun? FUN?! if by fun he means fantasizing about driving this cart straight into the water hazard just to escape this conversation, then sure, you're a real blast.

you look around the course, hoping maybe one of the older golfers needs a refill or something—anything to get you away from this nightmare. no luck. it's just you and these clowns.

“i don’t date customers,” you say, a line you’d perfected at this point.

you plaster on your fakest smile, the kind that said please tip me and then leave me the hell alone. but bryce wasn’t giving up.

“you’re really gonna turn us down? i mean, we’re the best thing on this course right now.”

best thing?

the only thing they're the best at seems to be embarrassing themselves. this is the type of guy who probably thinks buying a girl a drink meant she owns him something.

you can't even be mad; it's almost... sad. almost.

“maybe you should focus on your game,” you suggest, glancing at his scorecard. “you’re, what, ten over par already?”

that shuts him up real quick, his face going from cocky to confused like he didn't expect you to know how golf worked.

his friend with the sunglasses? he's still trying.

“we can show you a good time, y’know. we’ve got a house down on the beach. you like boats?”

ah, yes. the boat move. the go-to for guys who think a half-assed yacht and a cooler full of cheap beer is the height of luxury.

you’d seen it a million times in this godforsaken town.

you're not impressed.

you shoot them another smile, “i like tips.”

they all blink confusedly, clearly not used to a girl calling them out so directly. the frat boys mumble something between themselves, looking awkward for the first time all day.

finally, one of them fishes a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and tosses it your way. 

oh, wow, big spender. 

you scoop it up, shoving it into your pocket and giving them a little nod. “thanks, boys. good luck with your game.”

you thought the twenty bucks might’ve bought you a few minutes of peace, but no. they're back at it, swinging at golf balls like they aren't trying to flirt in between their awful shots.

you roll the cart over to the next part of the course, half-listening to their constant chatter.

something about “last semester” this, and “pledge party” that. god, they just never stop. it's like someone hit the repeat button on the world’s most annoying playlist.

one of them calls you over again, like he can't wait five minutes for his next drink. you start prepping them, half tuning them out, just trying to get through it, when suddenly, miraculously, they shut the hell up.

for a second, you think maybe the universe is finally doing you a favor. you don't even question it, just start pouring drinks faster.

a quiet frat boy is a gift. but then you hear it:

“dude!” one of them practically tackles the other, all wide-eyed and hyped up like a little kid who just saw his favorite cartoon character. “is that rafe fucking cameron?!”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

your stomach drops. of course it has to be him. because clearly, your morning isn't being shitty enough. you don't even look at first. 

one of the guys starts flipping out, hitting his buddy’s shoulder like it's the coolest thing to ever happen.

“bro, no way. no way. that’s rafe cameron? he used to be the president of our frat, man. two years ago! he’s a fucking legend!”

legend? you almost laugh.

the only legend rafe is to you it's a legendary asshole. a smug, infuriating, gorgeous asshole who you have been avoiding like the plague. the same one who has been blowing up your phone nonstop, trying to get back into your life.

the same one you swore down you’d never sleep with again after he pulled that stunt at the dinner—and then, of course, ended up in his bed two nights ago. you haven't spoken to him since. you’d been ignoring him again—well, trying to—but now here he is. in the flesh. and these idiots are drooling over him like he's some kind of frat god.

you turn your head, and he's striding across the green like he doesn't have a care in the world. of course he looks good. he always does.

wayfarer’s pushed up in his hair, that cocky-ass grin on his face, wearing a polo like he's the face of a country club catalog. you know he’d see you any second. hell, he probably already has. 

yeah, you’d been avoiding him, and yeah, maybe you’d blocked his number twice, but that didn’t stop him from calling with a different one. or from somehow finding you the other night at the party when you were weak enough to let him back in, only to get burned again.

“holy shit, he’s coming this way,” one of the frat boys mutters, shaking with excitement.

you don't move, don't acknowledge him. but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like a sixth sense at this point. you'd crave it so much before, when it was all a silly game in your head, see how much you could push until he cracked and gave into you. now it's a curse.

the boys are watching him approach like he's some kind of celebrity.

“should we say something to him?” one whispers. “i heard he’s like, killing it in the business world now. family’s loaded.”

yeah, you think bitterly. killing it. if you count being a trust fund brat as an accomplishment.

rafe's closer now, and you know this moment is inevitable. the frat boys are giddy, already nudging each other, probably ready to beg him for networking advice or whatever the hell frat bros did.

you keep your eyes down, focusing on pouring the drinks, acting like you don't even notice him. like he doesn't phase you in the slightest.

“hey,” a familiar voice drawls. you don't have to lift your head to know it's him. naturally, he stops right by you. because why wouldn’t he?

“rafe fucking cameron!” one of the guys yells, unable to keep it together anymore. “you’re like a legend, man. kappa forever!”

you never cringed so hard in your life.

rafe smirks, that signature look spreading across his face. “yeah, somethin' like that.”

you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral. no way in hell are you about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still gets to you. 

everyone else around you are tripping over their words just to get his attention. it's embarrassing to watch. the kids acting like he's some kind of messiah, not just some white rich guy with a trust fund and a bad attitude half the time.

“man, the outer banks is fucking sick,” one of them says, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited puppy. “we’ve been hitting the beaches, bars, y’know, living it up. and bro, the girls here? smoking hot.”

here we go. 

you pretend to be very invested in the cooler, rearranging the ice just to keep your hands busy. they're about to start pointing at you any second now; you can sense it.

the way they keep looking over at you made it obvious they're gearing up for something.

and then, like clockwork, it happens.

“yeah, man,” one of them gestures way too enthusiastically in your direction. “that cart girl over there? we’ve been trying all morning.”

oh, fuck right off, you resist the urge to throw a bottle at him.

you’d rather die than hear what lame pickup line is coming next, but what you really don't want to hear is whatever rafe's about to say.

there was a pause, as if he's taking a second to let it sink in. and when he finally does speak, his voice is all smooth confidence, casual as anything.

“so,” he starts, still with smirk you hate and know so well, “you’ve met my girl?”

my girl? my fucking girl?

one of them, manages to stammer, “uh—wait, she’s… she’s your girl?”

you can feel the tension creeping up the back of your neck. this's exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

no matter what happened between you, no matter how messy things got, he always acted like he owned you in private. never in front of his friends, like just because you ended up in his bed, you were his to claim whenever he felt like it.

still keeping your eyes glued to the drinks, you feel your blood boil. you aren't his fucking girl. you're barely on speaking terms, aside from that one weak moment.

he's only saying it to mess with you.

one of the frat boys lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “damn, man. didn’t know you were still pulling like that.” he shoots a glance at you again, not even bothering to hide the once-over.

rafe just chuckles, that low, infuriating laugh of his, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “what can i say?” he drawls, as if the whole thing is just a game to him. “guess i’ve still got it.”

you're this close—this close—to snapping. you can feel your fists clenching at your sides. you're not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. not here. not in front of these frat boys who're still looking at you like some kind of trophy.

rafe’s voice is closer now. you don't have to look up to know he's standing right by the cart.

“you good over there?” he asks, that fake casual tone still lingering.

you don't answer. just kept doing your job, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts. but he isn't going to let it go. he never did when he wanted to prove a point.

“hey, baby.” he greets you again, leaning in slightly. you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. “you gonna pretend you don’t know me now?”

you take a deep breath, finally turning to face him. he's standing way too close, sunglasses pushed up on his head, that stupid expression plastered across his face.

the frat boys are all watching, wide-eyed, like they just stumbled onto some kind of reality show drama.

“you’re funny, cameron.” the guys all exchange glances, clearly picking up on the tension but too dumb to understand it, “can you guys give us a minute?”

one of them pipes up with an awkward laugh, “wait, but we—”

you don't let him finish. “one. minute.” 

they finally catch on that it isn't a request and before they can awkwardly protest or ask why, rafe tilts his head towards them, craning his neck just enough to raise a single brow. the change in his posture is subtle but enough to have them clamming up instantly.

like magic, their frat-boy bravado melts right off. it's wild how fast a bunch of college boys can shrink under the gaze of someone like him.

the power trip they’ve been riding for the last hour stop.

“uh, yeah, you know what?” one of them coughs out, backing up so fast he almost trips over his golf bag. “we should, uh… we’ll hit the bathroom. real quick.”

“yeah, yeah, we’ll be right back,” another one adds, practically stumbling over himself to follow.

they scatter like scared puppies, tails tucked between their legs, and you can't help the small, satisfied smirk that twitches at the corner of your mouth.

finally, a moment of peace.

except, it's not peace. not with rafe standing there. 

as soon as the frat boys are out of earshot, you spin around, without thinking, you shove him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to catch him off guard. he stumbles back a step, his face twisting into a look of surprise.

"are you fucking crazy?" you snap, "do you not get the fucking hint, country club? i don’t want this. i don’t want you here, and i sure as hell don’t want your bullshit claims that ’m your girl in front of those idiots. leave. me. alone.”

he steadies himself, raising both hands as if trying to calm you down. “’m trying to be better, okay? ’m trying. i apologized the other night, didn’t i? ’m—”

“no, you didn’t!” you look at him like he's the dumbest man on earth, cutting him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “you didn’t apologize! you said i was overreacting, that i was being ‘dramatic.’ then, you fucked me and acted like that made it all better.”

his jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath as he glances around the mostly empty golf course before his eyes move back to you, his voice low but firm. "that’s not how i meant it—"

“you always have an excuse,” you interrupt, stepping closer, not backing down. “every time, it’s the same thing. you think a half-assed apology or a night in bed makes up for the way you treat me in public? like ‘m just some thing you get to claim whenever you feel like it?"

he visibly recoils at the word you chose, like it hurts him, “i know,” he finally mutters “i know i was a dick at that dinner. but ��m trying, okay? i’ve been calling you, texting you—”

“i didn’t ask. am i that good in bed? go find someone else.”

rafe’s hand flies up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping him. he draggs his tongue against his cheek. his voice coming out clipped, “i don’t want someone else,” he grunts out, sounding more exasperated than ever. “jesus fucking christ.”

you let out a laugh, stepping back, eyes rolling.

“oh, right. that’s it? ’m really that good in bed, huh? that’s why you’re here?” you cross your arms, your tone biting, daring him to say otherwise. “that’s all this has ever been, right? physical. you don’t call unless you want something. so what now? why are you trying so hard? what the hell are you trying for?”

he doesn't respond right away, his fingers are digging into the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold himself together. the silence continues, and you can see him wrestling with his words. he's never been the type to say what he was feeling.

everything is buried under layers of cocky bravado, that impenetrable wall he put up to keep everyone at arm’s length. including you.

finally, he dropps his hand and takes a step closer, his voice coming out rough like he's forcing the words out. “’m here because i don’t want someone else. i want you, alright? can you just get that through your fucking head?”

you scoff, “because i know you and won’t get attached?”

he snaps, raising his voice, “no! fuck, it’s not that simple.”

"not that simple?" your hands are shaking, and you accidentally knock over one of the bottles you’d been holding before, sending it tumbling to the ground. you don't bother picking it up.

“it’s pretty fucking simple. we’re just fucking. so, tell me, what exactly is complicated about that? you call, i come over, we have sex, and that’s it. so why the fuck do you start ignoring me in public like ’m some kind of fucking disease?”

rafe opens his mouth, but you don't spare him the chance to speak, you're on a roll, months of pent-up frustration. 

“i don’t give a fuck if you’re with someone else, rafe!” you can hear the bitterness dripping from every word. you're practically spitting them out, “what pisses me off is that you had the audacity—the fucking nerve—to ask me to stay that night. do you know how fucking stupid i felt? how the fuck do you think i felt when you acted like i didn’t exist the next day?”

you can feel your hands trembling again, the adrenaline making you shaky, cursing under your breath.

“for once, i was nice enough to care about you, to stay, and that’s the shit you pulled. treated me like a ghost. like i was nothing.”

he just stands there, staring at you, his jaw tight, but he doesn't say a word. his face is hard to read, but you don't care about his feelings. you're not done yet.

“i was fine with the sex. i was fine with leaving afterwards and then you had to go and fuck it all over.”

rafe’s blue eyes flash, and you can see the realization hit him, like he's connecting the dots too fast for your liking.

his brows furrow as he breathes out, “wait. you’re mad at me because i made you—” he hesitates, like the word is foreign in his mouth, “care for me?”

you let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “oh, for fuck's sake, country club. don't flatter yourself.”

“you always do that shit,” he points out, stepping closer “you never call me by my name when we’re having a serious conversation. it's almost like you’re running away.”

you arch an eyebrow, incredulous. “are you delusional? you’re the one acting like a child.”

“’m not being delusional. you only say my name in my room when it’s just the two of us.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he's trying to keep this moment between you, his blue eyes lock onto yours making your stomach twist. “’m clearly not the only one who’s pretending here; you’re just as bad.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you walk back, trying to create space, but he closes the distance with easy confidence.

“pretending? please. ‘m not the one playing house in my bedroom while acting like i don’t know you outside of it.”

rafe lets out a low, frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair like he's close to losing it. 

“god, you’re fucking infuriating,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you think i don’t fucking feel it too? you’re the only one pissed off, the only one confused?” his voice dipps lower in frustration. “i can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard i try. "

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you mocked back, “must be so hard, huh? being obsessed with a girl you can’t even respect in public.”

his hand reaches out to grab your wrist. you gasp, not out of fear but because the heat of his touch awakes the resting butterflies in your stomach. you hate how much your skin reacts to him, how just the feel of his grip makes your brain go foggy and shut down.

“i do respect you,” he growls, as if you just insulted him, “i just—fuck.” his eyes dart between yours, as if searching for something. then, like clockwork, he points at your work uniform—the stupid polo and that absurdly short skirt that's practically a sin in itself.

“this,” he grits out, fingers gesturing to the tight polo that does absolutely nothing but make your boobs look way too inviting, “is not okay.”

you blink, pretending to be unaffected, but his words have a way of crawling under your skin.

“oh, right,” you nod sarcastically, even though your pulse has kicked up a notch. “blame my uniform, like that’s the reason you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

rafe groans like you're causing him actual physical pain, his hands gripping the edge of the golf cart now, knuckles turning white.

“shit, yeah, i’ll blame the uniform,” he says, eyes blazing as he corners you. “that tiny-ass skirt, walking around in front of me all day, making me lose my goddamn mind.”

just like that, his hand slide right under your mini skirt, his fingers gripping a handful of your ass with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.

the sudden contact sends a rush of heat through you, and a soft gasp escapes your glossy lips.

that’s when he takes his chance.

with another low groan, rafe seizes the moment, pressing his body against yours, leaning down as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, the kiss deepening in an instant.

it's not sweet—you can tell that now because you know that hidden part of him, you can tell the difference when it comes out. today he's desperate like he’s been waiting to it for days and can't take it anymore.

he's a starved man on a mission. it's a feverish mess of spit and teeth, his grip on you impossibly tight.

his hand still kneads your ass, blunt fingernails digging into your skin trying to keep you from bolting away. at the same time, his other hand slides up to your neck, firm but not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you locked in place—he's daring you to pull away, knowing full well you won't.

logic doesn't stand a chance against the way his lips move against yours, he's sucking all the fight from you.

his tongue slides against yours, and your stomach jumps at the sensation, making you gasp. you try to pull back for a second, needing air, needing space, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place as his lips move against yours like he'll die if you stop.

and maybe he would. maybe he's just as messed up about all of this as you are.

rafe’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and right then and there, you know your panties are already ruined. you can't stop the small whimper that escapes your throat, and he moans at the sound, his hips pressing harder against yours, making you feel just how much he wants you.

“fuck,” he almost whines against your lips, like he's barely keeping himself from fucking you out there in the open, not giving a shit if anyone's watching. his hand on your neck glides around to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he tuggs slightly, tilting your head back so he can kiss you even harder, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

the truth is, you do. you know exactly what you do to him because he's doing the same thing to you.

but there's no way in hell you’ll admit that. not when he already has you completely under his spell, melting into his touch, drowning in the way he kisses you like he owns you.

you attempt to hold onto that edge of disdain you always throw his way when things get too personal. his breath is hot and ragged as he hovers.

his hand, still tangled in your hair, loosens slightly but stays there. it's so fucking unfair—the way he just sneaks under your skin, the way your body betrays you every time he gets close. you hate it.

especially with the way his fingers are already sliding up your bare thigh under that ridiculously skirt, as if he owns every single inch of you, like he has a goddamn right to touch you like that.

and instead of pushing him away like you should, you find yourself leaning into him. and fuck, the look in his eyes—all black, wild, like he it's his last shred of self-control—is enough to make your pulse skyrocket.

“asshole,” it comes out weak, pathetic and almost breathless, and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah,” he whispers back, lips brushing yours, his hand still in your hair, still holding you close. “but you like it.”

god, maybe you did.

the frat boys finally return, their laughter breaking the bubble that had you on a leash.

within seconds, you're pushing rafe’s hands away, stepping back as of them claps him on the back.

“we miss anything?”

“nah, just catchin’ up,” rafe said, brushing off the whole thing as if it's no big deal.

you, on the other hand, pick up one of the empty glasses, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

one of the guys chuckles. “man, you two… y’all good?”

no. not when there's the slightest of the slightest possibility that you're starting to feel something for him. not the stupid crush you had before, or the simple curiosity of figuring out how he was in bed. 

real, scary, big girl feelings. 

no way. not after everything. not after he pulled that same crap, acting like you didn’t know you in front of his friends, then turning around and getting all possessive when it suited him.

 “better than ever.”

eyes locked on rafe, you bite out the final blow.

“yeah, better than ever. just like every other fucking rich frat boy—using daddy’s money, pretending you’re a god. but deep down, you’re all the same. losers. why don’t you keep them company, huh? you’re all family after all.”

his blue eyes drop to the green field at the mention of his dad, but he keeps quiet despite realizing you’re doing this on purpose.

he’ll let you have this one because he knows it’s deserving. fuck he’d probably let you punch him in the face if you asked him to. 

you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him behind, knowing you hit him exactly where it hurt.

[gojoidyll]

Imagine a reader who always wears a mask but gets so tired of it all that you don't bother with the mask that morning. I'm talking of a rhetorical mask of course. A mask that puts a smile on your face and a skip in your step. A mask that makes you look happy.

But today...

Today you just couldn't care to mask yourself.

In your own perception, you were a boring, dull person who couldn't express themselves easily or always looked sad for some reason. You created that mask to protect yourself. To make yourself look and act like everyone around you.

Though, not today. You were exhausted. Mentally and physically exhausted. At that moment you didn't care if someone pointed it out or realize that your happy disposition was merely a facade.

You just didn't care. Not right now. Not-

Boothill took his hat off and put it on your head before gently patting the top of it.

"What are you doing?"

"Comforting ya."

"What for?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Everyone always do, especially if they want something. So, what do you want?"

"Nothin."

He gauged your reaction, "don't believe me?"

You shrugged and he caught you in a side hug. You felt like a sack of potatoes to him. It was like you weren't even trying today.

Well... at least you got up and out of bed.

"Well, i mean it. Don't need anything from ya today."

"Not even a smile," you almost whispered.

"Not even that."

You closed your eyes, lips trembling, "y- you sure?"

"Never needed anything from you."

You let your head rest against his hard, metal shoulder. His hat pushing up a little on your head as you did so.

Boothill knows you. Knows how you act, talk, and among other things. And he knows when you get so down that you just can't humor anyone for awhile.

He knows you and he loves you. You didn't realize that was all you needed until now.

[slasherscream]

Hi, sorry to bug but I have to yap to someone about this, and I love your ideas. Do you think Nathan Prescott would take his partner’s last name if he ever got married? Would any of the Crazy Ass Boy Gang?

❥ who would take your last name ❥

Nathan Prescott - He would take your last name so quickly it would make your head spin. You’re the first person who’s given meaning to the world family. His sister tried, but when you’re on a sinking ship, there’s only so much you can do. Try too desperately to save the person drowning next to you and you risk going under yourself. So Nathan drowned alone. Until you, that is. Marrying you, becoming part of your family, is absolution for him. He’s not Sean Prescott’s son. He’s Nathan Y/L/N, your husband. 

Jason Dean/JD - It might seem a little strange for JD to be so willing to change his name. His nickname is just his first and last name together, afterall. This was his mother’s last name. But it’s also his father’s. One night he’ll gently wake you , and in the quietest voice you’ve ever heard him use he'll ask you if you’d like him to take your last name. There are so many questions he’s asking, in that one sentence: Do you want me to be yours, unequivocally? Will you bear the weight of that ownership? Am I abandoning my Mother, if I leave her all alone as a Dean, with only him as her company? Will you ask me to take it? Please ask. Please take the weight of the asking away. I can’t abandon her. But I can’t stay, either. Put your arms around him and tell him he’ll make one hell of a Y/L/N.

❥ who would want you to take theirs ❥

Sebastian Valmont - He has genuinely doodled your names together in his journals like a middle schooler. Without a hint of irony: Mr. and Mx. Valmont. Y/N Valmont. Since the moment he fell in love he was planning to marry you and give you his last name. The Valmont name carries weight. It’s legacy. It’s old money. He throws his name around and people fall over themselves to get things done for him. He wants you to throw around his name too. He wants you to embrace every luxury he can give you. One of those luxuries is the power of his family name. Use it.

Billy Loomis - His parent’s marriage failed miserably. He doesn’t even know if his Mother kept the name Loomis. At this point, what does it matter? He fights tooth and nail not to live in the past when he has a future with you to look forward to. So he wants to look forward. He wants to do better than his parents did. He wants to wake up in ten years, twenty, thirty and reach for your hand and know you two succeeded. His family name isn’t doomed to failed promises, runaway spouses, and unfaithfulness. You guys are a better Loomis pair than his parents ever were.

David Mccall - Don’t piss him off. If you even try to hint at wanting to keep your original family name, it will be one of the few times you see David’s mask slip. “What? My name not good enough for you, sweetheart? Marriage is for starting over. It’s for building our lives together, not for hanging onto the past. Thought you loved me.” Every dirty trick he has in his arsenal will be used. Whatever it takes until you give in. Sex. Guilt. Moping. Anger. Don’t push back too hard, or go back and forth on the issue for too long. On your wedding day you’re gonna be Y/N Mccall, come hell or high water. There’s no need for anything drastic to take place just for that to happen, right baby? 

Josh Washington - Josh could never be anything but a Washington. It’s the name he shared with his sisters. It’s the only thing he still shares with his sisters. He used to be able to see them in his face, at least. But now… he’s so different, even that bit of the twins has died. It isn’t right that there are so few Washington's left. Most days Josh isn’t even sure if he’s a Washington anymore. If he’s still Human anymore. But you are. You’re gentle, kind, and so painfully human. Just like the twins were. He might have failed them, hell, he probably failed himself. But he won’t fail you. He has a second chance at a family, and this time you’ll always be safe. 

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - Would be so offended if this was even up for debate. Why wouldn’t you be taking his name? Why is it even a discussion? Why does he even have to ask? Will probably say something incredibly mean and unnecessary when you first talk about it. There’s a pit of insecurity in him that no amount of love you can give him will fill. It’s shaped like the love he should have gotten from his father. From his siblings. But the first love he’s ever felt has been yours. But that’s not true for you. You’ve loved people before him. Other people have loved you before he was able to. He needs you to be his. Just his. You’re the only thing in the world that matters that belongs only to him. But there are little pieces of you that will never be just his and it makes him sick. This can fix all that, though! He knows that the security of introducing you as his spouse will be a balm on his soul. He wants tabloids, newspapers, TV, and the radio to all be parroting the words: Y/N Hargreeves. He hopes- no, he knows it will make that hole inside him ache a little less. 

❥ who wants to hyphenate ❥

Jordan Li - Jordan doesn’t want you to give up your identity, who you are, just because you’re marrying them. They also don’t want to change their name, really. Something about not being a Li, despite everything, makes their stomach turn. But marriage is still about coming together. Making two lives so harmonious, so copacetic, that sometimes, if you’re lucky, it becomes one life, shared. Jordan didn’t propose for a long time, afraid of it all going wrong. Of ruining what you have. You helped them believe you two were strong enough to change and grow together. They want your names to reflect that. So, you hyphenate, and you blend, and grow, together. 

Stu Macher - Assumed you would take his last name, but when you pushed back, not sure if you wanted to shirk your family name entirely, Stu had the most relaxed reaction you’ve ever gotten from him about anything. “Okay, why don’t we both change 'em’? We’ll hyphenate! Like Brad Pitt and Angelina, or whatever.” You were expecting a tantrum. Not the easy acceptance that he actually meant for once. The fact is you’re wearing his ring on your finger, and you’re gonna stand in front of all your friends and family and say how much you love him. He’s already won. Why sweat the small stuff? 

Kevin Khatchadourian - Was quite angry when you began to hint at not wanting to change your name. It was the icy, calculated anger that made him dangerous, too. But if you’re marrying him you know how to communicate with him. Reason with him. You don’t want to take his last name because you don’t want to emulate his family. You want to make something of your own with him. You’re not sure how well the words worked until he sets the paperwork down in front of you. Kevin Y/L/N-Khatchadourian. In those small lines of ink, you’ll realize how deep the love Kevin is capable of runs for you. If you squint your eyes those words start to look like: I want us to be different from my parents. He watches you sign the paperwork to change your name, and Kevin has never been more content to give in to one of your demands. Just this once, of course.

A/N: i LOVE a character study question that’s still x reader. you are my favorite person in the world for this one. if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

[aventurineswife]

hear me out!

Reader was in a relationship with aventurine and Dr. Ratio, BUT! It was like Aventurine and Rayio liked eachother more than they liked the reader!

You following along?

Good! Cause I'm not done!

THEN! Reader goes to bar gets a little tipsy (read as drunk) and ends up venting their sadness and frustration to kind strangers willing to listen! (Aka Argenti and Boothill!) Things end up almost getting, suggestive to say the least before reader ends up stopping any more advances and leaves, little does reader know that her encounter with Argenti and Boothill would leave them desperate for more...

(Basicaly Yandere poly Argenti and Boothill x Reader)

And, this is just something else I wanted to say but what if Aventurine and Ratio notice reader kinda drifting away, ad they notice that reader is starting to make more friends and reader starts trying to spend less time with them? Maybe somehow they findout Argenti and Boothill are obsessed with reader? I see Aventurine and Dr. Ratio being possessive of things or people they consider "theirs" and slowly they start becoming as obsessive as Boothill and Argenti and now reader has 2 couples vying for her attention!

( I totally understand if this is to much or confusing!)

“I Wanna Make You Mine”

Summary: You are in a relationship with Aventurine and Ratio, but you began to feel like an afterthought as your partners’ interest in each other overshadows your bond. One night, seeking solace and a brief escape from your lonely frustrations, you meet two enigmatic strangers at a bar—Argenti and Boothill. Both quickly become captivated by you, their admiration bordering on obsession. You find yourself ensnared in a dangerous game of affection and desire, with each group willing to do whatever it takes to win your undivided attention. The question is; Who are you going to be choosing?

Tags: Aventurine x Reader x Ratio, Argenti x Reader x Boothill, Polyamory, Not really a love triangle since you pulled 4 men/Love pentagon, Jealousy & Possessiveness, Yandere Themes, Slow Burn Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Longing, Light Drunkenness, Obsessive Behaviour, Emotional Tension, Emotional Angst, Slight Cheating Behaviour.

Warnings: Possessive and Obsessive Behaviour, Light Alcohol Use, Yandere Themes, Emotional Distress, Do not try this at home or think this is cute and all. This is fictional.

A/N: I'M DEFINITELY HEARING YOU & DON'T WORRY ANON I UNDERSTOOD YOUR REQ!! 🤭 THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR STUFFS LIKE POLYAMORY RELATIONSHIPS (SO DON'T COME AFTER ME IF I DID SOMETHING WRONG!!) AND YANDERE! 😪 I personally don't ship any characters in HSR but for the sake of this fic, they're being shipped.

In the dim glow of a hazy bar, the soft clinking of glasses and murmurs filled the air as you downed your third drink. The evening had started with only a desire to escape the gnawing ache that Aventurine and Ratio had unwittingly left in your heart. For so long, you had been the third in your relationship, watching the connection between them bloom far more intensely than their affection for you. It was hard to pinpoint when exactly you began to feel this way, but tonight, the loneliness finally hit.

You sighed, stirring your drink absentmindedly, lost in thought until a warm voice cut through the fog of your mind.

“Are you alright?” Looking up, you were met with the striking gaze of a man with fiery red hair and green eyes that sparkled with curiosity and concern.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine...” you muttered, masking your sadness with a weak smile. But even before the words left your mouth, you knew they were unconvincing.

“Ah, doesn’t look like it to me.” drawled another voice from beside you. Turning, you found yourself facing a man who looked like he walked straight out of a rugged holo-western. He had a silver gleam in his eye and a smirk that promised trouble, yet there was something comforting in his casual demeanor.

They introduced themselves—Argenti, the knightly-looking redhead, and Boothill, the roguish gunslinger. They struck an odd pair, yet somehow, they both seemed genuinely concerned. That genuine concern, however small, was enough to tug open the lock on the emotions you’d been bottling up.

“I just feel like… no matter how much I try, I’m always a shadow between them,” you confessed, the alcohol loosening your words. “It’s like I’m just… there. I know they love me, but sometimes, it feels like they’re happier with each other.”

Argenti’s gaze softened as he leaned closer, his voice rich and sincere. “A soul like yours deserves to be cherished, never neglected,” he said, his tone filled with a quiet reverence. “I see a light in you, something so rare and beautiful. Anyone who fails to treasure it is unworthy of your heart.”

Boothill leaned in with a sly grin, his eyes flickering with something darker. “If they can’t see what they have, then maybe you’re wastin’ your time on ‘em.”

The warmth of their words and the way they leaned closer, as if drawn to you, sent a flutter through your heart. It had been so long since anyone looked at you like that—with full, unbridled interest.

His hand moved gently to the small of your back, his touch radiating warmth. “Allow us to show you what it means to be honored—to be loved without restraint.”

His words lingered in the air, weighted with a knightly promise. You felt your pulse quicken at his sincerity, yet even through the comfort of his presence, something held you back.

The heat in his touch and Boothill’s gaze made your heart pound faster, and for a dizzying moment, you felt tempted. But, catching yourself, you pulled back, gathering the scraps of your resolve. “I… I can’t. Not like this,” you stammered, stumbling up from the table. “Thanks, but… I need some air.”

You barely noticed their longing stares as you left, desperate to clear your mind, unaware of the yearning spark you had ignited in both men.

Days passed, and you tried to shake off that night. But a strange unease began settling over you. Everywhere you went, you could feel eyes on you. Argenti’s soft, almost reverent gaze in places he couldn’t possibly be; Boothill’s devilish grin, catching you in your peripheral vision even when he wasn’t there. As if they were everywhere, waiting.

The more you found yourself in their orbit, the more their obsession seemed to grow. Argenti, once chivalrous, was now desperate for every glance, every smile you gave. Boothill, once a lighthearted scoundrel, grew possessive, his words laced with dark promises of keeping you safe… from anyone who dared come between you.

Your time with Aventurine and Ratio was no longer as comforting as it once was, either. They sensed the shift in you. Aventurine’s charming smile had faded into something sharp, his eyes assessing as he caught sight of Argenti and Boothill’s names in your messages. Ratio’s typical aloofness twisted into jealousy, his usual intellectual grace tempered by a fiercer intensity.

One evening, as you arrived home, you found Aventurine and Ratio waiting. Ratio was seated calmly, but his piercing gaze was anything but passive. Aventurine leaned casually against the wall, his fingers twitching as if he longed to reach out to you—or hold onto you, tightly.

“We’ve been worried.” Aventurine said with a soft smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Ratio inclined his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Tell me, have you… made some new friends?”

The question caught you off guard, and you stammered out a response. But their knowing expressions only confirmed the suspicion that had been growing in both of them.

That night, they wouldn’t let you go. Aventurine’s once-teasing nature had turned possessive, his charming smile a mask for the tension simmering beneath. Ratio was no different, wrapping his arm around you, his touch firmer than usual, as if reminding you that you belonged to them. They held you close, more than ever before, but their embrace now felt like a cage, one you couldn’t escape.

And just as you thought you had nowhere to turn, there came a knock on the door. The sound was calm, persistent, carrying a strange sense of finality.

You didn’t need to open it to know who it was. The question that burned in your mind wasn’t if it was Argenti and Boothill waiting outside. It was what they would do now that they had come for you. And with Aventurine and Ratio on the other side, waiting to stake their claim, you realized you were caught in a game where escape might be impossible.

The question was: who would be the first to make their move?

Don't ask for part 2 lmaoo💀

[snuggleboots]

₊˚♡˚₊ The Akatsuki and their jealousy ₊˚♡˚₊

Tags: GN Reader, GN flirt, general jealousy and implied murder shenanigans.

Tobi essentially zeroes in the instant someone else starts laughing a little too hard at your jokes. Uhm, hello? You're funny, but you're not that funny. In fact, he's pretty sure he's the only person that busts a gut laughing when you crack your silly little one-liners or puns. It's cute to him, nobody else has any business making a play by acting all giggly and doe-eyed. He doesn't need to be violent about it - and really, why would he be? Tobi's just as happy to lean in - uncomfortably close - and then loudly declare that they have something stuck in their teeth! And it's super noticeable! So's their breath! It's not rude, he's just being helpful! He can smell their lunch through his mask! And it's rank! How embarrassing! Haha! They really should go brush their teeth, huh! Go away! Far, far, away!

Hidan is, in fact, very liable to wind up jealous over stupid little things that always result in becoming a pain in the ass for you to defuse when he inevitably hops onto his bullshit. You're out trying to enjoy one meal in peace together? That's funny, because the server seemed to put some weird, flirtatious emphasis on hot when they asked how you like your tea, and that's a problem, and that bitch knows it, too. Oh, they wanna know how hot you like it? Alright! There's loads of people on this earth, and they really wanna get stabbed over you? Fuck it! He just sat down, but clearly he's got some shit to do now. Dinner and a show! Why not?! He gets why Kakuzu doesn't tip now, not that he was gonna anyway. Shit service, and thirsty-ass servers. Fucking ridiculous.

Deidara is the first to notice when someone gets too close and cosy with you. Does it bug him immediately? No. His reaction, however, depends entirely on yours. Do you notice that they're smiling with way too much teeth when they playfully punched your arm? No? Alright. He can let that slide. It's when they deliberately divert your attention from him to themselves that he starts getting annoyed. He's not at all above pointing out tacky behaviour, petty king, and even if it embarrasses you a little, it is highly satisfying for him to see the flirt's face drop into something sour or burn up from the embarrassment. It's even better if you snicker along with him.

Kakuzu's only problem with someone chatting your ear off and really gushing over whatever comes out of your mouth is the fact that they're boosting your ego and he has to deal with it later. Not because the offending flirt boosted your ego, he doesn't give a damn about that, but he's now going to hear the same things you just told them about later when he's already just heard it - and he sincerely doesn't care to hear it again. He doesn't want to act interested, and yet he's going to be faced with either being called a dick, or being forced to feign something to avoid bickering about it after the fact. God dammit.

Kisame doesn't mind seeing someone try their damndest to flirt with you. He trusts you, and he's very happy to sit back while you turn them down- or, if he's lucky, watch while the flirt makes an idiot of themselves trying too hard to clue you in and get your attention. It's funny - he's laughing, and he isn't even trying to hide it. If he's in a cheeky mood, he'll even stir the pot, because he has gremlin tendencies and his humour is catered exclusively to himself. Yeah, he'll egg them on in little ways, until they're feeling nice and confident. Then, while he isn't really a PDA kind of guy, he'll drape a brawny arm over your shoulders, plonk a cheek atop your head and drawl something to the effect of, 'You know what? You do look great in that outfit. It'll look better on the floor later. Ready to go?' Kisame likes finding his own fun like this. The flirts always flap their lips like gasping fish when he hits 'em with that bit, and it tickles his brain just right.

Itachi is generally ambivalent. You have attractive qualities, he knows this, and he's well acquainted with the consequence of having said attractive qualities. As long as you're fine with it and nobody's pushing any obvious boundaries, he's fine with it too. Jealousy isn't an issue at all with Itachi. It only becomes one if you end up uncomfortable and the flirt doesn't pick up on that fact. In that case? He's glad to leave with you, if you don't feel like handling it. If you don't want to leave, or leaving isn't an option? Well, he can use his words. Or, if they've ruffled your feathers enough to annoy him, there are many benefits to being a genjutsu master. Oh, noooo, suddenly all eyes are on the flirt and the judgmental looks are intense and highly disarming. Or, uh oh! There's definitely a fire that just broke out, and they're the only one panicking about it! Oh wow, they left in a hurry. What a shame. They must've drank a little too much, or something like that.

Sasori, simply put, could not possibly care less if you paid him. Possibly aggravated by the fact that someone's breathing air in his direction while he's minding his business with you, someone he can actually tolerate. Yeah, he fully expects you to handle that. He's gained a knack for zoning minor annoyances out- until those minor annoyances become general annoyances. It's only when the offending flirt's voice becomes grating - which, really, doesn't take long at all before he bothers intervening if you haven't already shooed them away yourself. If a terse 'shut up' or 'begone' doesn't dissuade the persistent little gnat, he has poison and many fun, discrete vehicles with which to deliver it. It is purely for the sake of peace and quiet. Does he care when they drop like a sack of rocks, seizing and foaming at the mouth? Not particularly. Do as he does, and zone it out. Don't look at it (derogatory), you'll only encourage it to make more of a scene.

[vivisviolets]

what do you need to hear right now ೀ⤷ except i have a headache

↪its been 3 fuking days i swear to goddddd 444

｡♡˚

⚬.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖-pick an image that you feel drawn to- if nothing stands out quickly then close your eyes- breathe- and ask spirit/the universe/god or your intuition/higher self to show you what a pile's content would best suit you, don't be shy!! read through more than one if that's what you are called to do!! i love youuuuu-˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

⋆｡˚ *pile 1 ⚬

⚬

⚬. Five of Swords (reversed), Nine of Swords (reversed), Six of Swords, Three of Wands, Judgement, Ace of Pentacles ⚬.

⚬. ☄️Number 5, 555, initials/letters H-M-A, sun ruled/dominant, Aries/Sag/Leo/Aquarius Placements, dark coloring or light coloring, face/body freckles, pale or sunkissed, thick hair, loud/blunt tone of talking, action-oriented ☄️⚬.

⚬. As I shuffled I picked up fire energy, I'm feeling you guys might come across a little intense personality-wise, like blunt or hardheaded in your opinions- you guys make other people feel like the shy or softer friend in comparison to you- I just got interrupted- I think you might have dealt with people in the past who stepped into your energy in an attempt to influence you or give you the impression they care but actually have the intentions to "change" you- I'm seeing someone smiling at you gently with this mask of innocence so you lower your guard down and give them control over you... This might have happened recently- and that's just it. They want to control by feeling that they are molding you into something they find more correct or tolerable. I don't mean to make you paranoid or even more un-trusting of others than you already are, but more to listen to and address inwardly why someone triggers you like that. I'm also hearing that in the past you might have felt you scared off some past friends or connections because they made some pretty lame excuses to avoid you- I'm just getting that you have a very masculine energy, very strong and coming straight from the chest. You guys have solid walls of inner self-concept and that can make people feel very small or meek compared to you, or trigger them to try and control or fix you, thinking you need some healing- when really it's them being triggered because of the self-healing they need to do on themselves... you guys might have mother issues (just finished watching Black Swan it's very much that suffocating toxicity coming from underdeveloped feminine energy) or have butted heads with female family members in your life (if not mothers especially aunts, maybe stepmother? Or grandmothers- female adults in your life)- and you guys are definitely not perfect in the way you handle certain things, regarding releasing control over certain situations peacefully. you guys can be impossibly stubborn, but that's because you stick to it with your whole chest, you just know- and so you bulldoze right ahead- I'm hearing a quote from Fiona Apple's '97 VMA speech, you "go with yourself". Other people's opinions be damned if you see something as your truth you follow it. From that, I'm hearing very Aquarius energy with how much you've mentally formed your own path (air energy with all the Sword cards), but again lots of fire energy I'm feeling. So you could have Aries placements with how youthfully blunt and truthful you naturally are- Sagittarius with how much natural luck and abundance you feel with opportunities being yours- but I'm getting very much lion energy, so Leo- "Lion-heart" "King of the Pride"- is really what your inner energy embodies! I heard some of you are more introverted or might not relate to this description fully because you may not think your external actions reflect that- but I NEED you to know what this is your inner emotional strength and land that you can, and should- tap into!! ☄️☄️☄️ because it's freaking natural babyyy ⚬.

⚬. You really need to chill with how un-trusting you are with other people's opinions. And I know that is so hard to hear because of the very valid reasons (◉ bitches) you've been dealt in life to have those trust issues- but I don't mean collapsing all your walls and becoming whatever anyone is saying, no. This is about you truly standing in all that inner power you have by allowing it to influence how to interact with others- there's knowledge to be gained everywhere, especially when you come from a place of such a strong self-concept. I'm really seeing you guys need to be allowing and being open to support- and I keep getting interrupted so I think you're really on guard with someone or the people you have around you. Again, look inwardly at that trigger and address it so you can take away what is valid in that trigger and also what is your own emotional walls- once you address it, you detach.~ and it's beautiful.~ but anyway, again-again I am also picking up that your suspensions are correct with whoever you feel is fake. So focus and be around people who you actually want to be around- I'm hearing a lot of you hang by yourself out of not finding anyone who interests you... Please do something different than what you normally do- you can find people who don't wish to change you or shrink next to you. You can and will find people who you can exchange knowledge and information with- with SUCH mutual respect like wow- you'll feel so fulfilled in a way you haven't even allowed yourself to think or consider-...might even be co-workers or just people you might have looked over (not trying to paint you as feeling above others or anything like that- you just have big high achiever energy). -Find and share with people who trigger you to become stronger, not weaker,- etc I'm really hearing that you guys being so in tune with your fire energy is really getting you to the places you want to be, it's really aligning yourself to those goals and your motives are really giving your actions a step up- but also you need to give energy to those ideas by sharing them- with the right, positive people (even neutral ppl would be rlly good) Because the support that you'll receive will not only be an energy boost to your goals, but also it will do some powerful work for you inwardly and align you to be more open to so many blessings and even more opportunities.-- I know you guys don't care hearing it because you don't need to, nor want to ask for it- but you are deserving as everyone is of hearing it- I love you ♡ and everything is turning out in your favor just by you continuing to follow your heart ❤️‍🔥. continue to open it up and remember to look and enjoy the next sunset you see!! ⚬.

⚬. "I am not afraid to finally say shit with my chest" - "I paid all my respect to those who taught me how to make it And now I reap the benefits with no confrontation" ⚬.

∘˙○˚‧.ೃ࿔ pile 2 ⚬

⚬

⚬. The Hanged Man, Queen Of Swords, Strength, Three of Swords, Eight Of Wands, Six Of Pentancles ⚬.

⚬. 🐚 Number 3, 333, 3333, 1313, 303, 313, bubbles, Powerpuff Girls, girl/boy/kid next door, approachable/young/soft appearance, temu, Pisces/Cancer/Scorpio/Taurus/Leo placements, Neptune ruled/dominant 🐚 ⚬.

⚬. Bubbles!!!! I'm hearing bubbles- so you know, bubble baths/bubblegum/soap bubbles- oh, and of course you might have gone through a Powerpuff Girls phase and you chose Bubbles as the one most like you!! Obviously- right off the bat, you guys are adorable- you're seen as very adorable at least, you might have a very young face or you just give off very playful energy... So I'm mostly getting what other people see you as, so you definitely have a set image in people's minds-... I'm hearing though you might not like to hear that? A lot of this perception of you is largely online and in online groups, so you have curated a certain personality + an aesthetic for online and in said online groups (hearing for a lot of you it's Discord, but I'm also hearing Instagram group chats + Instagram engagement)... Maybe you've been regretting portraying that online persona? in those online spaces specifically- I will say this pac is all ages but I'm hearing that a lot of you might feel like you made some "bad choices" in how you portrayed yourself or who you interacted with that made you come across naive, and that can be a lot of things like- having weak emotional boundaries and being too emotionally open to people (like being the one who people trauma dumped to), getting wrapped up in some shady trading or in group business, or ignoring red flags of certain people in the effort to be the kind and sweet one of the group (you might of had a problem with a lot of creeps in your energy.. and dms ugh ew ◉ ◉ ◉)- I don't care what your age is, don't be hard on yourself!!! For this reading, you are literally my baby and I will not be harsh to you, idgaf if you came for harsh advice. I will only be saying things to guide you forward. because literally, I don't see you doing anything genuinely wrong. I think this situation you got in made you feel like you were some stupid baby duckling- it made you feel like your inner strength was weak and worthless- and you're putting a lot of self-blame on yourself- and that's just what that is, self-blame for how other people chose to engage with you.- I'll just tell you, you are so precious- no matter the reason you engaged in what you engaged in, you came in with pure intentions and creative eyes!! you felt like testing your waters regarding your own self-expression and wanted to give to others along with that ♡ and that's wonderful and ok to have wanted!! You guys are highly creative btw, and very interested in how you can express yourself- the first cards I drew were associated with water, so you may have prominent water placements of Pisces/Cancer/Scorpio- any of those are very you. You might have been deemed as the "cutesy artist" by others,- you might do something creative like drawing (I'm seeing some supaa cute digital art), cosplay or make up, maybe even music?- Very dreamy~ and also very giving of yourself emotionally- that's not a harmful thing my darling☆!! it's not "weak-minded" or deserving of being taken advantage of- nonono STOP THATTTT-... you really had something happen that threw you into a tailspin. You might be the overthinking type- you're taking everything to be a defining moment of your emotional intellect, or your very worth as a person... noo baby stop that- I literally need you to brew a cup of tea or a little treat, -I'm getting straight up teary-eyed with a lump in my throat rn- take a few deep breaths, drink a little cup of water, watch some youtube or anime- and just let yourself shed some tears if you want to.. freaking obviously feel however you want to feel because that's healthy to do but please stop placing all the blame on yourself like that's the full picture of what happened. ⚬.

⚬. ok so- you're gonna freaking reinvent yourself. Because I know you want to, but- 👏 you 👏 will 👏 not 👏 do 👏 it 👏 out 👏 of 👏 self👏 shame 👏.......👏 👏 👏 👏 👏 👏 - nah booboo, because there was nothing wrong with you to begin with, inwardly you are SO pure-hearted to yourself and those around you- AND THERE IS NOTHING that should be deemed wrong about that, holy shit. let me chill- this reading is peace and love🕊 only ofc... That's exactly it btw- you will be reinventing yourself out of peace and love- for yourself. out of peace and love for the version of yourself who felt vulnerable- taking what has made you feel vulnerable, and turning it into strength. And I'll just say, the actions that you'll be taking will be very much inward- and so you may see your "glow up"/transformation as too slow, but honey- that is exactly how what's needed in becoming SO secure in yourself. You might even go dark in a lot of your online spaces- if you haven't already which btw, process and remove any shame connected to having left certain spaces. how things fell apart was how it was meant to happen and has now gotten you to this point- which is amazing and awesome because you're gonna transform to be completely badass ★!!!! And I know you're thinking and worrying about how you won't be around to give to others to which i say- kiss your sensitive heart for being so precious~♡ because this is about you now. and everyone is going to feel that, no more placing your self worth on how happy you make others- its time for you to actually take enjoyment in yourself!!! and you are going to be looking so good- your inward growth is going to reflect your outward appearance, if you want to start switching up your style now's the time to go for it!!!!- but again, big focus on your inner self-love and growing your self-worth- and if you do choose to share your journey, make it in a smaller circle of people you can trust!! definitely send those new style pics to the inner circle if you feel free and fulfilled inwardly- you'll totally be praised like "omg (x) is really evolving they're looking sooo good..."- but anyway, just trust me ok ♡ because you're going to look back on all that you're feeling- all the hurt, confusion, negativity- and you're going to be stunned like- omg, if i hadn't felt and experienced and processed all of that, i wouldn't be feeling this good rn. So start that process!!!!! Get yourself a cute journal if you don't already have one with cute pens (record yourself to look back at later), start watching youtube videos on self-concept and emotional processing, saturate your mind with all that self-improvement- self-discovery- and building yourself up to be all the joy and love you bring to others (and hotter than evaaa😎), all for yourself ♡. I freaking love you~ now go get your sweet treat!!!!! (or two, that's totally ok~ just for today~) ⚬.

⚬. "And nothing hurts like you do- like the way you say I love you" - "See it on your face you won't ever change in your ways" - "When your torn apart you'll destroy me again"

⚬. *tw: themed song is dark for this pile like wuttt, but it just kept replaying in my mind during the reading so maybe it'd be your thing? idk lollll ⚬.

｡⭒⭒˚ʚɞ˚｡˚pile 3 ⚬

⚬

⚬. King of Pentacles, The Tower (reversed), Two of Pentacles, Queen Of Wands (reversed), Knight Of Swords, Seven Of Swords ⚬.

⚬.🕷 Student life, number 1-12-6, 1111, 1212, 666, lawyer or law practice type degree, thin or medium length hair, natural eye bags/under eye veins, INTP/INFJ, monochromatic clothes, cotton loungewear, Sagittarius/Virgo/Taurus/Capricorn/Libra placements, mars ruled/dominant 🕷⚬.

⚬. Okkk pile 3s, I must talk about your appearance and aura because... Wow!! I am enchanted- I see you are very statue-esque, so you may be on the tall side, especially for my women/afabs it's a very noticeable trait about you, of course you can be a normal height but there is just something about the way you are built that is very statue-like. And that appearance really shows who you are inside and your inner energy because you are soooo calming, mature, and also very spiritual in your self-concept- like if you were my friend and I had you in my inner circle I would trust you with so much, like you're held high in your own inner circle/peers. Maybe you don't feel that way because while you guys are very much givers of your time and nurturing nature- you know to put yourself first on your list of priorities, and that, not only is what makes you so good at your time management (like how do you it??? Please teach meee), it also gives you this air of independence- very natural independence too like, you're again a nurturing and giving being but you treat yourself with that same energy. I'm seeing a large tree in the middle of a expansive and dense forest, and all that magnificent health flowing through that forest is thanks to that tree right in the middle self-regulating and thus creating all that health that all of the life around it can benefit from… So yea self-care is a big thing for youuuu~ I'm seeing the routines you have are very simple so they just blend in so effortlessly into your daily life, and it is literally what is making you into that magnificent tree full of self-regulating energy. Again really simple, minimalist style of self-care- I see morning walks/jogging and journaling to clear and refresh your mind space, you may like to read, and prefer audiobooks or mindfulness-centered podcasts over other forms of media to help you relax and refocus, I'm seeing you like to not be strict with your diet but instead add to it things like fruits-veggies- and more purely sourced foods- your skin care is very simple with few-if any- products and your consistent with it as you are with everything else in your life. Even if you feel like you're "failing", you aren't. and deep down you know that you aren't- you've grown so much and that's really tapped you into not just self-responsibility/regulation but also to give yourself the grace to breathe. That's so beautiful!!!!!! ugh. And like- all of this natural self-focus you have, it's so spiritual- it's not grounded in your ego. You're just so in touch with your highest self. And lovely, they/she/he is so proud of you. I have to say again, if you were my friend, you would definitely be the person I'd go to- to take care of my puppy for 2 weeks in complete peace, and someone I'd have a drink with on a Saturday night all made up and done up talking about the deepest of topics. ⚬.

⚬. Very interesting personality and image I was getting and building up compared to the cards I pulled- I'm getting you might not have always been this balanced in your personal life and emotions, in fact you might have been very much the opposite… Because you grew up in an environment very unlike the one you are currently building for yourself- you may have had a toxic and vicious mother or other feminine figures that really put the fear of God in you and also made you fear yourself with the thought of one-day exuding and feeling such damaged feminine energy…. You might have also had a lot of friend drama- for those older reading this, this happened in your youth (middle-high school) and to those still in mentioned youth, you're freshly out of it (-good for you ily), said dramatic struggles was a reflection really of all the chaos of your home environment and all of the pent up intensity of it… I'm just hearing so many arguments and you feeling like you're being set on fire over and over again... So I'm getting with how much of a shift you made, you feel this coldness in your heart space- partly due to how fiery and emotional your past way of existing was, and also because while this shift that you made for yourself is excellent considering where you came from, it also happened very suddenly- and while you have implemented many new healthy habits… I'm seeing your past wounds still remain open. You can't bring in the new without clearing out the old... while you've done the work of shifting from the old habits to new- that's only half of the battlefield within you that has been fought and conquered, and now you need to face the other half instead of journeying away from it. Because even with all the peace you've found and created for yourself, what you have not faced, felt, and processed for the final round still remains… Maybe you fear your peace and balance being threatened by opening up your hurt, and that's totally understandable and valid. But if you wish to build a peaceful future, you must make peace with the past version of yourself. They/she/he who's still wrapped up in the chaos around them, mimicking that chaos back out of fear, feeling completely alone-that version of yourself needs your attention and healing more then ever. And I know you like to journal or record your thoughts, so allow those darker feelings and wounds into the space- keep the learned peace you have found and treat yourself with that gentleness past you wished they had been given-address them and ask them what memories stick with them most vividly and ask how it made them feel-how it made you feel at the time. Ask yourself what traits you feared most about the people who hurt you and analyze them- the emotions behind them and their cause and effect- and look within how you may be playing out those same traits stemming from the trauma of experiencing them.. I know I'm getting really heavy now, but that's just it- as you are growing upwards and becoming lighter, what no longer serves you grows heavier- and it needs your addressing, so you can become all that you want to be and exist as. You've already shown yourself that you are capable of finding and attracting peace, so now it's time to give yourself the peace of healing. Be the bigger girl/guy/person to yourself, allow yourself to feel it and address it in this safe space you've created. OK BESTIEEE I'm wishing you so much love and joy in your inner discovery journey- I loooove youuu ⚬.

⚬. "There's a fine line I've been walking" -This is where you fuckers pushed me, don't be surprised if shit gets ugly" - "-there's a fine line between broken and breaking- spent my whole trying to change what they say about me- sick of walking that fine line" - "I feel safest in the silence" - "-my whole life I've had something to prove, to you" ⚬.

⚬. *Bonus song*: Too Far Gone by Kesha ⚬.

⚬. oh my- okkk you got to the bottom- hiiiiii- byeeeee 👋

love, vi~♡

[dizscreams]

Romantic headcanons with lil ol hobie

Absolutely 🫡

Romantic Headcanons with Hobie Brown — ★

I don’t think you guys would go out for dates I think a lot of the time it’s hanging out in each others room

Like he’s strumming his guitar and you’re studying or drawing whatever JUST YES

I think he’d definitely prefer that than taking you out to a fancy restaurant or smth like that

Maybe even movie nights?

Random thought but a little self care night 🤭

Maybe face masks (which he was reluctant to do but you made him anyway), painting each others nails, etc etc

Not really self care but him helping you dye your hair!!! Can’t get that thought out of my head

OMG SHOPPING WITH HIM!! You dragging him shopping and he acts like he doesn’t wanna be there but he actually kinda likes helping you pick out stuff

Don’t even get me started on you making him carry all of your bags or you showing off to him in the dressing room 👀

UGH OMG I HAD A CUTE THOUGHT!! One time he watched you do your makeup and he wanted to learn how to do eye liner

So you taught him one day and he likes doing eye liner every now and again

Maybe you were on his lap and did it for him one day! (He wouldn’t let you do a full face of makeup on him though 😔)

Likes picking out jewelry for your outfits

If you guys are opposites I can see a lot of playful arguments about each others music tastes

He definitely likes at least one song you showed him but wont admit it cause he’s stubborn!

If we’re gonna talk about physical touch I’d say he likes it just definitely not in public

Maybe a hand on your shoulder sometimes but other than that I’m not sure

In private though he’s always leaning his head on your shoulder or putting his head on yours

Likes to tease and make fun of you

Jokingly ofc he’d never let it go too far

He issss in a band so ofc you’re going to almost every performance of his

Veryyy protective when it comes to his job and you

Doesn’t like letting you come to fights with him or trying to help cause he’s terrified you’re going to get hurt

If you’re also a spider person you guys make a rlly good duo

He’s just a really laid back guy in general so he doesn’t raise his voice at you

Maybe on accident a few times but he always apologizes ofc

He’s respectful 🫡

OMG RANDOM BUT NAPPING TOGETHER

WHEWWW imagine you both got done with a fight and you just need to rest so you take a nap together! Or if you’re not a spider person then you both had a hard day and wanted to take a nap together

I don’t think he gets jealous thaaat easily. Like someone would have to be THROWING themselves at you and he’ll step in.

He wouldn’t be starting fights or drama honestly I think he’d just wrap an arm around your waist and walk away with you

I think he’ll go on random tangents about stuff he’s interested in or even abt stuff he doesn’t like 😭

You’re just listening to him like “yeah totally” because he’s talking so fast

He’s proud of your guy’s relationship and he’s caught himself talking about you a lot to his friends

He tries to shut up before they say anything but they’re already teasing him

BUT ID SAY OVERALL he’s just a really chill dude who likes spending time with his partner :)

All I can think of rn so I hope you enjoyed! and ty for all the requests I’ll be working on them all day <3 🫡

[cowboydisaster]

Just Like You

pairing: SImon "Ghost" Riley x single mom reader word count: 1.6k summary: Ghost can't get used to the fact that he's your son's favorite person in the world, but damn- he's trying. ("You- You're me for Halloween??") a/n: this fic references the comics, so for those who didn't know: Joseph was Simon's nephew. Super angsty and fluffy. Simon bonding with your kid. beta read by @margowritesthings

masterlist

Leo loves Halloween. It’s your son’s favorite time of year. The five year old boy, with your help, worked incredibly hard on his costume, and he’s sure it's going to be the best costume on the block. You may be a little biased, but really, it’s very good. Leo has put extra effort into perfecting every detail of his costume, because this year is special.

It’s the first year that Simon will be accompanying Leo with trick or treat. Leo loves Simon to pieces– but Simon can’t figure out why. The soldier elicits fear from nearly everyone that he encounters, his mask makes children scream and run in the other direction. Hell, his mask makes adults piss themselves in the field. Many enemy soldiers have surrendered at the sight of Ghost running towards them. So Simon can’t wrap his head around the fact that his girlfriend’s little boy looks up at him like he’s the greatest person in the world. 

Simon is less than stellar with children. He tries, but he’s not entirely sure how to talk to them. He’s always a little awkward, generally avoiding children when he can, but this one seeks him out. Simon loves you more than anything, and he wants to form a relationship with Leo, he’s just not exactly sure how. He’s trying, for you and the boy. Leo’s biological dad is a piece of shit, which Simon has lived through, and he tries to shield the poor kid from that pain as much as possible. Maybe it’s because Leo reminds him so much of Tommy and Joseph, but your kid is special. 

–

“You ready, bud?” You ask, pulling a hoodie over your frame. It’s Simon’s and it’s oversized, stopping just above your knees. But it's comfortable, and late-October in Manchester is not. Immediately, you find yourself encompassed in its warmth and the smell of Simon’s cologne.

“Almost, mummy!” Leo yells from the bathroom. “Simon is gonna love this!”

You chuckle, “I know he will, baby.” You grab the fresh mug of tea from your nightstand and head down the carpeted stairs. Simon was to be here an hour before trick or treat. You check your watch. 18:00. As if on cue, the doorbell rings, sounding out loudly through your little home. Always punctual. Leo squeals out of excitement at the sound.

“Coming!” You holler, padding across the chilly living room towards the door. You jog lightly, causing a few drops of tea to spill over from the lip of your mug, dripping down to the floor and splashing against the hardwood floor. Ignoring the little mess, you pull the frosted glass door open. Simon is wearing his less civilian mask with the hard plastic skull face. You’d specifically requested that he wear it, though he wasn’t sure why.

“You can just come in, you know. You don’t have to ring the doorbell.” You chuckle, nodding for him to come in. He steps inside the door, hands softly gripping onto your waist as he kicks the door shut. 

“I told you to keep your door locked.” Simon raises an eyebrow, squeezing your waist. 

“Oh, right…” You hum, squinting your eyes as you recall that conversation, “I forgot.”

“Course you did, love.” Simon smirks, “Happy Halloween.” he says, and you chuckle, gripping his skull mask by the teeth and pushing it up over his face. His scarred lips are sporting a smile, and you kiss it away. It’s over all too quick as he pulls away, nodding towards the cup of tea in your hand. 

“The kettle’s still on, yeah?” He asks, pulling the mask back down over his face. 

“Yes, I’ll get you a cuppa.” You roll your eyes playfully. He’s cutting your kisses short for tea, something he’ll make up for later, you’re sure. Simon glances around the living room, noting the few abandoned truck toys that lie around the living room.

“Where’s Leo?” Simon asks, looking around the living room as you walk towards the kitchen. 

“He’s just finishing getting ready upstairs. Why don’t you go up? I'll bring your tea up.” You hum, grabbing a tea bag and Simon’s favorite mug. You hear heavy footsteps going up the stairs, and take that as his response. 

You shake your head, amused as you slowly pour the steaming water over the tea bag, watching it turn a rich brown. Once it’s properly mashed, you add his preferred amount of milk and sugar, and then carefully start up the stairs. Your footsteps are naturally much quieter than Simon’s, and with the added fact that you’re trying not to spill his tea, he doesn’t hear you coming up the steps. You reach the top, and stop dead in your tracks at the sight around the corner. Simon is walking towards Leo’s bedroom, but from the angle you’re at, you can see Leo hiding around the corner as if he's about to scare Simon. Leo is fully dressed in his Halloween costume, a little replica of the exact outfit Simon is currently wearing, skull mask and all.

“Boo!” Leo screams, rounding the corner that Simon was just about to go around.

Simon clutches his chest, jumping back a comical amount. Simon literally screams, attempting to sound terrified. Obviously Simon isn’t scared in the least, but Leo doesn’t know that. Simon lets the boy proudly think that his costume is scary enough to frighten the unshakeable. Leo’s smile is as bright as ever under his mask, and you grip the cup of tea a little tighter as a smile pulls at your own lips. Simon’s eyes are comically wide as he fakes terror for the young boy. Entirely satisfied with Simon’s reaction, Leo pulls his mask off, giggling madly. 

“It’s okay, Simon! It’s just me, don't be scared!” Leo giggles, jogging up towards Simon who is bent over at the waist, pretending to gasp for breath and holding his chest.

“Bloody hell, mate. You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Simon chuckles, scooping Leo up into his arms. Once settled on Simon’s hip, Leo holds the plastic mask up to Simon’s face. It’s an exact replica of the mask he’s currently wearing, just much smaller. 

“Look! I'm just like you for Halloween!” Leo smiles, showing Simon all the little details that he’d put into perfecting his mask. 

“You–” Simon’s brow furrows, “You’re me for Halloween?” He asks, piecing it all together. Leo holds the mask out to Simon, who takes it and looks over the smaller version of Ghost’s infamous skull mask. 

“Yep! Do you like it…?” Leo asks, sounding a bit worried. His little eyebrows pull together, and Simon is quick to reassure him. 

“I love it, mate. It’s perfect, looks just like mine.” Simon whispers. There is emotion in his voice, unusual for him, you note. Tears prick your eyes as Leo puts the mask back on, looking up at Simon. 

“I wanna be like you when I grow up.” Leo says, wrapping his little arms around Simon’s neck. 

“You’re gonna be better than me, Leo. Much better, yeah?” Simon whispers, looking the boy in the eyes. Leo nods, curling up against Simon’s chest. He rubs his hand up and down Leo’s back, comforting him. 

“You know, Leo, you remind me of a boy I used to know.” Simon mumbles in a rare show of emotional vulnerability, his eyes glazed over as he pats the boy’s back. 

“Who?” Leo asks, propping his chin on Simon’s chest to look up at him better. 

“Uh–” Simon hesitates. “His name was Joseph… He was my nephew.” Simon whispers, and your heart wrenches in your chest. 

“Maybe I could meet him someday and we could play.” Leo whispers, hopefully looking up. 

“Yeah. Maybe someday.” Is all Simon says, nodding lightly as old, ugly memories pull at his brain, ones he’d shoved out and burned long ago. 

“I love you, Simon.” Leo whispers, hugging his little arms as tightly around the man as he can manage. He pulls Simon out of every dark thought he was having, those three little words pulling at his heart strings. Simon hesitates, voice stuttering for a moment. 

“Yeah– I love you too, little mate.” Simon whispers, voice heavy with emotion.

“This is gonna be so much fun– Mummy even helped me with my costume!” Leo adds, unintentionally changing the subject. He creates a perfect time for you to announce your presence. 

You hastily wipe your eyes and walk up the last step, rounding the corner you were just hiding behind. You catch Simon off guard, and he turns to you, slowly placing the young boy back on the ground.

“I didn’t hear you come up.” Simon whispers, taking the mug from your outstretched hands. He’s far away, lost in thought. Leo runs down the hall to grab his treat bag as Simon wraps his arm around your waist. 

“Didn’t want to spill your cuppa.” You explain, resting your head on his chest for a moment. Leo comes back around the corner with his bag, excitedly waiting for trick or treat to begin.

You smile up at Simon, noticing a few little tear tracks running down through his eye black.

ghost taglist: @moths569

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ DOWN BOY!

♰ featuring: shidou ryusei [blue lock]

♰ note: i've been having unholy thoughts of feral/muzzled!shidou for the longest time now and was ITCHING to write this i stg that image of him in the manga in the straight jacket made ME feral. (spoilerss?????? ig???? not rlly???) but uhhh yeah, enjoy!

sypnosis: you want to try something different in the bedroom. your boyfriend is not happy about it in the slightest. wc: 4.8k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. fem/fem-bodied reader. switch!reader. switch!ryusei. bondage. use of handcuffs. use of a muzzle/restraint mask. use of cock rings. implied thick/chubby!reader. SHIDOU RYUSEI HIMSELF. feral!ryusei. slight pet play(?) (idk u make him whimper for u and refer to him as a dog/mutt). degradation. orgasm denial/edging. dry orgasms. ball-sucking. unprotected sex. big dick!ryu agenda! cervix-fucking. squirting. rough sex. dacryphilia. spanking. choking. creampie/breeding. cursing. excessive mentions of drool/saliva/spitting. groping. hair pulling. ONE cock slap.꒷꒦

“Babe, is all of this really necessary?”

Ryusei sighed in a bored tone as you clicked the second pair of fuzzy handcuffs around his slender wrist. You rolled your eyes as you straddled his naked waist, trying to figure out how to cuff the other end of the fluffy device to your shared headboard. He has been asking questions like this ever since you first suggested letting you top him.

Handcuffs, babe, really?

A cock ring—what is that supposed to be for?

Is that . . . Is that a muzzle?

Despite the fact that it seemed like he was asking you a never-ending stream of questions, you knew it was just his feeble attempt to try and sway you. It wouldn’t. However, you thought it was funny because, when you first suggested it, he was ecstatic at the prospect of you on top. He was, however, immediately protesting it after noticing all of the little toys and trinkets you pulled out to use on him. A black restraint mask that was intended to cover the lower half of his face and reveal his scowling lips, as well as handcuffs, a cock ring, and other items. It was no secret that he loved touching you, biting you, breeding you, and ravishing you any chance he got, and the fact that all of the items you brought prevented him from doing as he pleased annoyed him to no end.

Whatever the case, the mere thought of you domming him was enough to make him put up with this torture.

After figuring out how to cuff the handcuff to the bed, you grabbed both of Ryusei’s wrists and gave them a few firm tugs to make sure that they wouldn’t come undone. He, on the other hand, was more focused on your attire: a set of hot pink lacy lingerie that matched his eyes and perfectly complemented your skin tone. The sight of your full breasts dangling in his face was enough to arouse him, and the feeling of your thighs pressing against his sides had his semi-hard cock already straining against the fabric of his thin boxers.

Reaching to your side, you grabbed the black muzzle/mask that resembled the one he wore while being restrained in blue lock and secured it to his face. You noticed the irritated furrow of his brow, how his fuschia hues cast themselves elsewhere, away from you, and the way the corner of his lips pulled downward in an unamused frown. You could not help but giggle at him, finding it hilarious that your boyfriend was pouting so much over the fact that he could not touch you.

Placing two fingers along the side of his jaw, you turned his head to face your own, relishing in the way he purposely forced his eyes away from you so that he didn’t have to meet your gaze. “Aww, no need to look so pouty, Ryu.” You teased, mimicking his pout with a mocking one of your own. “Is the muzzle too tight on you, doggy?”

That caught his attention. His previously bored expression abruptly changed to one of vexation as his eyes darted to yours in a ferocious glare. His teeth bared at you from the mask's tiny bars, sharp canines clenched together from his indignation. He jostled under you in an attempt to lunge for you, but the cuffs held him taut.

Had he not been restrained, you knew that it would’ve been over for you if he managed to get his hands on you. You shifted your hips back to press down against his bulge, both of your hands resting against his muscled chest as you balanced yourself on top of him. Whatever curses he had on the verge of forming on his lips had died into a strangled moan. The sensation of your clothed pussy being pressed against his sensitive shaft had him reeling almost instantly into submission, causing you to smirk in triumph. He was always so easy to control when he was horny.

“That’s what I thought, pup.” You jabbed, patting him (condescendingly) lovingly atop his head, to which he responded with a small growl.

“Don’t push it, angel.”

Grinning impishly, you planted a kiss atop his mask, right where his lips should have been. From there, you continued to leave a trail of hot, slow kisses down his jaw, neck, chest, and abs until you reached your destination. Your minxish eyes locked onto his as your digits threaded themselves into the boxer's waistband. You then gently kissed the area where his tip, which was already dripping and staining the fabric, strained against the boxers. He tossed his head back with a groan, his cock twitching before you with anticipation. As you slowly pulled his boxers down his thighs, his cock would spring free, nearly slapping against your nose as it swayed erotically against Ryusei’s pelvis.

You couldn’t help but coo, watching as he twitched pathetically in front of you, aching for your touch. “You poor, poor thing. Already so pent up, and I’ve barely started touching you yet.” He didn’t respond to you, his hips bucking towards your face as you could feel his thighs spasming beneath you. “Too bad, you won’t be able to cum until I say so~.” Reaching into your collection of trinkets, you pulled out a pink silicone cockring and pinched it between your fingertips, holding it up tauntingly for him to see while sitting between his legs.

Ryusei reacted to this by whimpering indignantly, clenching his fists in the cuffs, and shaking his head with desperation. “B-Babe, c’mon. You don’t have ta’ do all of this.” He tried to reason with you, but you weren’t budging.

“Oh, but I do, Ryu~!” As you spoke, your voice was ablaze with glee. With one hand holding the base of his cock, you forced it to rise while using the other to place the cockring on his sensitive tip and roll it down at a rather agonizingly slow pace. The feeling of the tight ring sliding down his cock caused the blonde to hiss in both discomfort and pleasure as his heels dug into the bed and his hips bucked into your touch. “Think of it as my revenge for all the times you roped me into your horny little exhibitionist habits.”

“Oh, I’ll show you ‘revenge’ you little—”

You cut him off, unamused, with a firm squeeze of your digits around the cockring, making him toss his head back and cry out—a silent reminder that you were the one in control here. His cock twitched, his blushed tip turning an even darker shade of red as he was obviously pent up beyond relief.

“F-Fuck, fuck, okay! Y-Y/N, please, just do something!” He pleaded as he writhed beneath your now delicate touch, his hips thrusting into the air dryly. “Feels like I’m bouta’ explode here…”

Since you had already planned to do so, you decided to comply with his desperate pleas. You lean toward the underside of his cock and his two hairless balls, which have started to swell with his virile seed. You parted your lips, allowing your drooling tongue to lick over the seam of those fat orbs, drowning them with your skillful muscle and affection. Wrapping your lips around one of them, you suctioned it into your mouth, sensually rolling it around your tongue with a gentle hum that shot to his cock before moving on to the next one. Ryusei hissed, panting, his heels dug into the sheets, peering down at you through his blurry vision as you pleasured his balls.

You met his gaze with a wink as you placed a kiss on either one before proceeding upwards, slobbering along the underside of his length with your pillowy orifice until you reached his destined tip. Almost immediately, your soft brims enveloped around his cock, drawing inch by inch into your accommodating throat. Ryusei, the greedy slut that he was, started to desperately hump your face in an attempt to release the pressure he was feeling, but his efforts were in vain. While he was strong, he was heavily restrained in this position, and with your body weight pressing against his hips to keep them down, there was not much he could do.

“F-Fuck, babe, I-I can’t. Ngh, p-please. Your mouth feels s’fuckin’ good . . “ He babbled, drool pooling from his whimpering brims. He looked so pretty like this, begging for more, his face flushed as fat tears pooled in the corners of his eyes—you wanted to ruin him.

“Eyes on me, Ryu.” You ordered, your thumb rolling teasingly along his sensitive tip, and he tried. He really, really tried, but he was so stimulated that he couldn’t stop them from crossing and rolling in the back of his head. “C-Caan’t~!” He whined helplessly, his hips thrusting into your touch. “Y/N, I-I’m gonna…”

“I know, baby, do it. Come undone for me…” You purred as you wrapped your lips around his tip once more, this time going so far as to take him all the way to his base in one stroke, your pretty nose pressing against his pelvis and his fine patch of blonde hair. He throbbed against your soft tongue, his balls clenching and pulsing against your chin.

“T-The ring! God. Please, Y/N. Move the ring! W-Wanna cum down your throat . . . make a pretty mess of that f-fucking gorgeous face.”

You hummed with amusement, pulling your mouth off of his cock so that you could shake your head at him. Smirking sinfully, you sat up straight and vigorously pumped his shaft, much to his dismay. “Nu-uh. You can cum just like this baby or not at all.” More tears streamed from his eyes as you grinned cruelly at him, and his brims ripped with a howl of frustration and ecstasy.

“Y-Y/N, you f-fucking bi—” Your other hand cupped his balls while your busy hand tightened the squeeze on his cock, moving more forcefully. You're practically milking him now. “Ahn, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck~!”

As his orgasm finally overcame him, he abruptly lost his voice and began to violently convulse. His hips trembled and twitched in your hands. His thighs shook against yours as his back arched upward and his fists gripped the chains of the fuzzy handcuffs. His lips were drooling with saliva as his eyes rolled into the back of his skull, and a series of whiny whimpers and moans escaped him. His body thrashed as he struggled to wriggle free of your vice grip, which was still relentlessly pumping him throughout his dry orgasm. As his release reverberated through him, you could feel his balls clench and his cock pulse in your palm, shooting fictitious ropes of cum. Funnily enough, despite his intense "cumming," he still remained rock-hard, with his cock still standing proud in your palm.

“You look so pretty like this, Ryu~” You purred, admiring his thoroughly blissed out expression. His eyes were unfocused and half-lidded, his cheeks were flushed a deep maroon, and his lips were glossy from drool and tinged red and swollen from him biting them. But when he heard your voice, he seemed to return to reality. "Y–Y/N . . . Let me the fuck out of these things now, or so help me, I will fucking murder you," he snarled, his teeth baring once again and his eyes narrowing into a furious glare as he tried to break free of his handcuffs and lunge at you.

His tone was serious, as were his words, but you knew he wouldn’t actually kill you . . . maybe.

You sighed, shaking your head a verbal rampage of swears and half-hearted threats continued to escape his lips. You raised your hand, placing a firm smack against his cock, the appendage slapping against his thigh with an audible “plap”. His body twitched once more, and he let out a mix of a snarl and a throaty groan simultaneously.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Ryu. You’re acting like some untamed mutt.” You muttered, enjoying in amusement at how his expression appeared to flare more from his outrage.

You stood on your knees between his legs, turning around so that your rear was facing him. Your thumbs hooked into the waistband of your lacey panties, sliding them down teasingly at an agonizing pace. When Ryusei saw your ample rear exposed to him, you could hear his breath catch in his throat. However, what really got his attention were the thin threads of translucent arousal that still connected your puffy folds to your panties. Of course, you would become aroused by his torment.

“Fortunately, I already possess the ideal remedy for taming feral creatures like you~.” You turned back to face him, crawling up his body until you were straddling his waist once more. Reaching for the restraint mask, you undid the buckle behind his mask, allowing it to slide away from his face and reveal the full extent of his drool-stained lips and chin. You smirked slyly as you balled up the panties in one hand and grabbed Ryusei's cheeks in the other, squeezing until his jaw finally gave way enough for you to stuff your panties into his mouth. He was glowering at you with promised malice. You were certain that if looks could kill, you would be long dead, but so be it. You leaned down and gently kissed his nose, to which he growled in response.

Returning to your original position lower on his body, you turned around so that he would be able to see your ass perfectly as you straddled his waist. Your digits took hold of his sensitive length and guided it up to your plump folds as your hips rose, before slowly and delightfully lowering yourself onto it. Both of you released guttural moans from the intrusion as Ryusei’s cock filled you inch by inch until you had finally settled on his hilt. The feeling of being filled to the brim by his cock elicited nothing but a loud, pornographic mewl of absolute ecstasy from your lips. Behind you, you could hear your partner making strangled groans, and you could feel him trembling beneath you. He was pleading with you to move, to do anything, from behind the makeshift gag. Of course, you willingly obliged because you were as desperate as he was.

You made an arch in your back and began to rock your hips back and forth and up and down along his cock, your hands on his thighs, as you began to ride him within an inch of his life. Your ass pounded rhythmically on his pelvis, the rather obscene sound reaching both of your ears as it reverberated off the bedroom walls, encouraging you to go faster and harder. When you heard Ryusei's choked and muffled groans, you couldn't help but clench tightly around his cock. His inability to do anything but watch as your ass rippled against his pelvis while pinned beneath you, along with the sensation of his cock hitting those deep sweet spots inside of you, enthralled you with euphoria. You could tell he was getting ready for another dry release because you could feel his still-sensitive cock throbbing inside of you with need and because of the way he suddenly began to thrash behind you.

“Settle down, Ryu.” You chided gently through your breathless pants and pleasured moans, slowing your pace so you could instead rock your hips along his own, grinding yourself delightfully against him. “Or else I might not let you—”

SNAP!

“. . .Cum.”

Your hips slowed to a halt, breath catching in your throat as the sound of something metallic snapping was audible. You were not a moron; you were perfectly aware of what that noise was. You slowly turned to look over your shoulder at the offender as if it were a scene from a horror film, only to find that your worst suspicions had been proven correct. Ryusei sat partially upright, one end of the fuzzy cuffs still fastened to the bed, it’s chain severed, and the other still connected to his wrist—his chest rising and falling erratically from his heavy panting. His face contorted into a mask of fury, his brows furrowing in a dark storm. His eyes were wild and alight with some kind of feral sadistic glee, blazing with an intensity that was both frightening and arousing. His lips were furrowed between a joker-like grin and a ferocious snarl as his sharp canines bared along the fabric of your panties, which were still balled in his mouth.

Oh, he was going to fuck you up.

“R-Ryusei . . .” You stuttered, your voice soft and already pleading, as though you were trying to reason with a feral beast.

His movements were nearly faster than sound, and he remained silent as his now-unbound hand grabbed the wrist that was still restrained and pulled it free with a single, powerful tug.

He was free.

Silence filled the room you two were in as neither of you uttered a word—you not daring to speak, and Ryusei was too busy savoring your fear to ruin his moment. Panic etched deep lines onto your face as your heart skipped a beat, and terror surged through your veins like ice. His cock, still nestled deep inside of you, twitched. He was getting aroused by this.

You scrambled to get off of him, like an imaginary gunshot signaling the start of the race, with every intention of running as far away from him as you could, but it was futile. You could not compare to him in terms of strength or speed. The instant you turned to flee, he was tackling you down to the mattress, causing you to scream in a combination of surprise and terror.

“Oh, nah, baby. Where you goin’?” He started after removing his panties from your mouth, placing them mockingly beside your head as he pressed his full weight into you. He had a hand placed firmly between your shoulder blades, and both of his thighs were caging your own to keep you pinned beneath him. “You don’t get to put me through all of this shit.” He paused, giving you a harsh thrust to accentuate his point, which drew a breathless gasp from you. “And think that you get to run away with your tail tucked between these pretty legs.” He snarled, leaning so close to you that you could feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“R-Ryu, I-I’m sorry!” You whined as you writhed beneath him, attempting to save yourself from whatever impending hell he was going to put you through.

He cackled deviously, tossing his head back in pure, unadulterated lunacy while he pulled his cock from your dripping folds. “Oh, are you?” He would inquire, a faux pout on his lips as he grabbed that stupid ring you had on his cock and pulled it free with a grunt despite the pain. “Ohh, fuck yeah. Can finally breathe.” He breathed as pre drooled from his tip.

“Y-Yes! I just wanted to have a little fun with yo—”

He interrupted you with a hard smack to your ass, causing you to sob aloud. “Fun? You call that fun, babe?” He snarled, fisting at your tresses and yanking your head back so that your ear was once again against your lips. “I’ll show you fuckin’ fun.”

You squealed as his two large, strong hands seized your hips, forcing you to rest on your knees. Before you could regain your bearings, his hand pressed against the back of your skull and pushed your face harshly into the sheets. Once in position, he pressed his hips against your own, laying his cock over your ass and thrusting languidly against your pillowy cheeks. He took two large handfuls of your rear and began groping and kneading the flesh with his hands, giving you a few heavy smacks here and there until your cheeks were turning red and you were a whimpering mess.

“Such a pretty ass here you have, baby.” As his thrusting grew faster between your cheeks, you felt the blunt head of his tip press against your puckered hole. “Maybe I’ll have fun with you here instead…”

Your breath hitched in your throat, craning your head to the side so that you could see him peering down maliciously at you from over the swell of your ass. You were no stranger to Ryusei's sex escapades, but anal was something the two of you had yet to explore because the thought of all the preparation and pain frightened you to the core. He was aware of this, which is why his grin became more deviant when your eyes met and he noticed the worried gaze.

“Ryu, n-no, I-I can’t, I’m not ready—!”

He tossed his head back with malicious laughter once more, clearly enjoying your torment as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against your puckered hole, but he never applied enough force to break the resistance.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that, princess?” One of his hands left your ass to seize your hair in a vice-like grip again, pulling you up so that your back was flush against his chest. His other hand reached for your chin, lanky digits gripping your cheeks and puckering your lips in an adorable manner. It was undeniable how his fuschia hues seemed to glow brighter with desire at the sight of your soft, glossy brims. “Makes me wanna fuck ya up even more . . “

He grumbled, his lips pressing against yours in a passionate liplock. It was clumsy, messy, and full of lewd tongue-to-tongue contact between Ryusei and you. He claimed your brims, ramming his long tongue deeper into your drooling maw as his tongue tangled with your own. He drew it out of your mouth, sharp incisors gnawing teasingly on the soft muscle while greedy brims sucked hungrily on your flesh, eager for more of your taste. It was hard to breathe. He was suffocating you, and yet you were enjoying every minute of it.

When he finally pulled away, several thin strings of drool connected your lips to his own, to which he would grin and place another sloppy smooch on your lips again. Keeping your lips puckered, he would apply more pressure to your cheeks until your pliant jaw fell slack. He pursed his own lips, drawing up saliva in his mouth, before his long tongue saliciously lulled out of his mouth, globs of drool rolling from his maw and into your own, which you would obediently swallow, having performed this action for him plenty of times before.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled, placing two firm smacks against your round cheeks, making you keen and flinch. “Such an obedient little slut, f’me.”

The hand in your hair jerked you around again, forcing you back into the sheets before you could protest as he pressed his full weight against you, hips flush against yours—the ideal position for a prone bone. Keeping you pinned beneath him, he raised his hips so that he could line himself up with your entrance before slowly, tantalizingly sinking the entirety of his length into you. The position, combined with the delectable curve of Ryusei's cock, had you gasping with delight as you felt his cock caressing the deepest parts of you.

“Hah, shit~.” He drawled into your ear as his hips suddenly slammed forward with a single, savage thrust. His glans slammed into your cervix in a single smooth thrust, digging into the squishy entrance to your womb as if trying to pry you open, his cock's curves perfectly hugged by the pleats and folds of your pussy. His pace was sloppy and uncoordinated at first—each roll of his hips was frenzied and rough, as if the only thing on his mind was punishing your poor little pussy for the torment you had inflicted on him only moments before.

Your cries and wails of pleasure echoed off your walls, and you made a mental note to make amends to your neighbors later in the week. However, you were too preoccupied with Ryusei's cock bullying into your pussy to think about anything else.

The hand that forced your head into the sheets was snaking itself around your neck, the crease of his forearm and elbow resting snugly against your windpipe as he began to squeeze. To add to his brutality, he balled the fist of the arm that held you taught and used his other crease to pull it back, effectively locking you into an unforgiving headlock that made your toes curl and your moans catch in your throat. You couldn’t breathe, but damn did it feel good.

“What was it that you called me, babe?” He snarled beneath a mix of heavy grunts and growls, his teeth scraping against the shell of your ear. “A ‘mutt’ was it? Hm?” He inquired, applying more pressure to your throat as he continued to rut relentlessly against your ass, audible claps sounding with each pound. “Well, woof, woof, bitch.”

His words made you whimper as your cheeks burned with shame. You felt a tinge of regret, but it was quickly overshadowed by the immense pleasure you felt. As his grip tightened on you, your nails bit into his forearms, scratching against his bronzed flesh. You clenched around him, your lips forming a perfect 'o' shape as black spots darted across your vision—the asphyxiation only added to your pleasure.

“S-So fuckin’ tight now.” He groaned blissfully, loosening his grip so that you wouldn’t pass out when he noticed you beginning to go limp. With your newly acquired oxygen, you gasped for air and cried out in pleasure, fat tears welling up in your eyes as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. “Gonna milk every last drop out of me, aren’t ya? Greedy slut.”

“Yes, yes! ahn~! R-Ryu, I-I’m gonna cum!!”

He chuckled as he listened to your cries, using the hand that was not around your throat to stuff two digits into the side of your mouth, pulling on your cheek to fish-hook your soft cheeks. “Yeah? Not until you bark for me, you’re not.”

“W-What . . ?”

“You heard me, bitch. Bark. You wanna cum, don’t you? Make a pretty mess of my cock, hm?”

You obviously hesitated, having never done anything like this before, but when you felt his cock angle just right to pummel into that sweet spot deep inside of you, you threw all logic and reasoning out the window. “Arf! A-Ah, fuck . . arf!" You hoped and prayed that it would be enough to please him—that it would be enough to finally let you cum.

Luckily for you, it was. Cackling cruelly, he shook your head back and forth dumbly, your tongue lulling out of your mouth to lap at his fingers. “That's it. That’s a good little pup. Go on, cum for me, doll.”

You did so gratefully; your moans mixed with babbles of useless speech along the lines of “thank you” and “m’sorry”. Your body would twitch and convulse, your mouth dropping open, as your fluids once more started to stick to his pelvis from the way she creamed around his pistoning cock. Your teary eyes could not register their surroundings, nor could your brain register Ryusei slamming his cock's head firmly against your squishy cervix, pumping you full of his seed.

“F-fuck, fuckk~.” He hissed into your ear, his arm tightening around your throat as his orgasm washed over him. “Love the way this pussy squeezes me, creamin’ all around my fat cock . .” He panted, pressing soft yet sloppy kisses against your ear and cheek.

He let you go in an instant, allowing your exhausted body to fall slack on the sheets before you, gradually regaining your bearings as you came down from your high. Ryusei rose from you, kneeling on the backs of your thighs, watching as his cock slid languidly free from your sopping cunt, slapping against your ass once free. A twisted grin spread across his face as he watched his thick cum slide out of you, the steaming milky white substance gliding over your throbbing clit and puffy folds, contrasting with your complexion in a way that was completely addicting to him—enticing even. Your soft whines would bring him back to reality.

“Ryuu . .” Your gentle voice called out to him as you peered over your shoulder. He noticed your glassy eyes and tears running down your cheeks, your puffy lips pouting, and your cute nose sniffling. “. . .You’re heavy.”

“Yeah? Y’didn’t seem ta’ have a problem with it earlier when I was tearing this sweet little ass up, pretty thing.” He remarked, placing a light love tap on your reddened ass.

"That was before the post-nut clarity hit," you said, your brow furrowed with mock irritation, squirming around as you tried to crawl out from under him. “Now get upp~! I wanna take a bath.”

“Oh?” There was something chilling behind his tone, something that stopped you in your efforts. Ryusei towered over you once more, placing both of his palms next to your head as his powerful forearms encircled you. Something heavy—phallic—pressed against you. It was undeniable. He was hard again.

“And who said I was done with you, Angel?”

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

[tarjapearce]

An Angst/ Fluff Miguel O’Hara fic. The reader is giving birth and runs into a bit of complications that he freaks out a bit and gets taken out of the hospital room, so Miguel has to choose between his wife or baby. By a miracle they both live, but the reader is kinda in coma state for the meantime. Miguel meets their baby and he tells their baby the wonderful things they can do at the same time begs the reader to wake up because their baby wants to see their mommy. She later wakes up and they cry in each other’s arms of happiness.

Angst undercut ~ Sorry for the feeeels and the delay :<

Your hand squeezed his with so much force you thought that you'd break it, but he was unbothered by it. Miguel was there, his voice whispering the sweetest things as you pushed and pushed.

The excruciating pain spreaded through you body as dread bit your skin.

"I can't... Miguel..."

"You can do it hermosa, one more push, ok?" He kissed your paling knuckles as you stared at him, teary eyed and exhausted

"I feel so tired" You'd mumble between pants, strength slowly leaving you. Sweat etched to your skin.

"C'mon mamma, one more push!" The nurses massaged your thighs soothingly. Miguel cradled your head and kissed your forehead.

"Tu puedes, hermosa." (You can do it)

But truth was, you weren't sure. You felt dizzy, overwhelmed, but you had to see it through. Your baby was nearly out. Even with the doctor's help it was proving to be a tricky delivering.

You pushed. And it felt wrong.

Even Miguel frowned at the sudden cry you gave.

The baby didn't cry.

"M-Miguel?"

His chest thumped hard with every passing beat, you were paling faster than the doctors wanted to admit. All he could see was bright, crimson red on their hands.

His head snapped to the baby, the nurses were rubbing tiny shoulders frantically, giving firm pats on the back, introducing little suction devices through the baby's nose, as the doctor and another nurse focused on you.

Hemorrhage.

Your hand was limp and cold on his.

"M-Mi amor?"

He wasn't one for stuttering, but seeing life itself escaping your body, tugged his chest painfully.

"So cold, Mig..." You struggled to speak. Your eyes struggled to keep themselves open.

Against all protest, and a close call to security, Miguel was dragged out the room. A room where chaos was ensured.

All he could do was to watch as nurses paraded in an out your room. Some carrying blood stained cloths, as other brought in more. It seemed endless. And every time he approached anyone he'd receive the same response.

"We're trying our best"

Trying wasn't enough. Best wasn't enough. He needed answers.

He was about to barge in the room when the loud cry of a baby echoed in the other side.

His muscles went rigid, before he exhaled, a bit more relieved. He'd never want to choose between your life or the baby. And he never would because he knew all to well, that a choice like that would be too harrowing and heartbreaking for him to make.

And still, the balance of life seemed to favor his child.

----

Much to his comfort he was allowed to hold his baby. A little girl. She was quiet, deep in sleep, comfortable. Alive.

You on the other hand were drained out of color, an oxygen mask hooked on your face. Tiny, little breaths, almost imperceptible, flew through the mask. The constant beeping of the monitor was the only thing that indicated you were still in this world.

He should've have listened to you. You told him that you couldn't do it. Yet, he pressured and pressured until you could no more.

Your fault

His mind had been berating itself for the past couple of hours as he held your unconscious hand. You had barely made it.

And still, your body refused to awake.

-----

Three days. Three days without your voice, without sleep, without you in his arms. Without your warmth. Without you.

The nurses were kind enough to handle the baby when she'd get too fussy, to at least try and give him a bit of sleep. His body ached, his lids begged for at least some minutes of sleep.

But what if in those minutes of sleep you'd be gone? No. He couldn't risk it. He refused.

He fetched the baby, and sat before you.

A tiny bundle on his arms.

"You want Mama back too?" His eyes glossed. Desperate tears disguised as exhaustion.

The baby stirred in his arms, he rocked her as he got close to your bed.

"Mama would be crying if she saw you, princesita." His voice broke despite him trying to keep himself together.

"So so beautiful."

He'd spend hours talking about the future plans he had for the three of you.

----

Four days, of him silently waiting. You had given a blood transfusion, vitamins pumped through your system, earning a bit more of color in your cheeks. You had hope.

But fear was consuming him. Doctor had to sedate him to get some sleep, only to be contained by the doctor. His words filling his chest just a little more with hope.

"She's stable."

But again, it wasn't enough. He didn't need you stable. He needed you awake, in his arms, cradling your child, feeding her as he'd bask you in affection.

Your body had gone through a severe Post-partum Haemorrhage, since your uterus had gone through trauma. The screaming you had done still echoed in his mind.

His head pounded, yet he had asked for the baby. He'd never resent his child for your current state, no. He could never.

A little groan.

His eyes snapped at your form.

His little girl cried, panic rose through his chest as your fingers spasmed.

"Hermosa?" Miguel cupped your cheeks softly. The baby cried harder, as if begging for you.

His breath hitched as your eyes, fluttered although weakly, open.

"Hey" The knot on his throat only tightened. Shaky hands cradled you so tenderly he'd though you'd disappear again.

You were alive and awake.

His fingers wiped his eyes to then bring your little girl closer to you.

"She's beautiful isn't she?"

You nodded and smiled softly. Genuine, but exhausted. Your body was waking up from the numbness that had settled on your bones. He kissed you, your forehead, your face, pampering you in affection.

"No vuelvas a asustarme así, por favor." ( Don't scare me like that again, please)

"I'm sorry" You'd whisper but he just shook his head.

"Though I'd lost you for good"

Your hand caressed the baby, that instantly quieted down.

He'd just stay there, happy, silently thanking whoever above that you were finally awake and that his family was complete again.

[lucystark12]

milevens are insane

warning now - i get extremely heated in this so if you're going to tell me to calm down leave. before any of you weird bitches tell me to go do something more productive or to touch grass- no. i'm fifteen, it's summer, and i'm a highly involved high school student. i'm not here because i have nothing better to do, i'm here because i understand good writing and am able to have hobbies ❤️

anyways

was on the mileven endgame hashtag just now and because i don't choose violence i wont be addressing any of them directly, but i will be addressing some of the ridiculous bullshit on there. term bullshit used intentionally

the love confession came as a result of mike "gaining the confidence" to tell el how much he loves her because he was afraid that he loved her more than she loved him.

are you listening to the words that are coming out of your mouth right now? i want to sit down and get a coffee with you and dissect what the fuck you meant by that. sure, right, yeah, he gained so much PRODUCTIVE confidence from his conversation he had with will where will was using eleven to mask his own feelings for mike. it makes so much sense narratively that this end all be all mileven event is sparked from will's feelings and not mikes! sure! right! this is such an idiotic piece of reasoning. you are literally saying that you are okay with your endgame ship only being endgame based on faulty communication and lies. are you joking? "you just gotta improve your motivation" ass piece of evidence

also, mike being insecure about loving her more than she loves him is complete, total, utter bullshit. el frequently expresses her love to mike via letters and youre here to say that mike would have any problem with doing the same thing if he were insecure about her love for him? that literally makes no sense. i wouldn't be afraid of loving somebody more than they love me if they are actively putting more effort into insuring me that they love me than i am to them. like, what does that even mean?

“Will Byers is a pathetic loser annoying character and contributed little to the plot of ST. "

yes that is a direct quote. no i'm not kidding.

what kind of fucking neanderthal watches stranger fucking things- a show about a kid who disappears- and thinks the kid who disappears isn't a central part of the narrative? the first episode of the goddamn show is called "the vanishing of will byers"! maybe this is hard for you and your confused brain to get your head around, but el and mike met when mike was out looking FOR WILL. mike and el are still together because mike gained courage from WILL'S LOVE FOR HIM. what a fucking idiot you must be. i would try to explain to you the myriad of other reasons why will is absolutely central to the plot of the show, but since the show itself has clearly gone in one ear and out the other, i probably wont be able to get through to you either.

“what if we learned to cope with world that doesn’t accept us as individuals by embracing each other completely?” said about mileven

um.. what. that's literally byler. closeted gay guys in the 80s. but sure, the ones that aren't being accepted are the two white and allegedly heterosexual individuals. the "world that doesn't accept us" in question is a few high school bullies in comparison with the stigmatization, violence, and ostracization that has longstanding been a part of what it means to be queer. be so serious right now. mileven is not important for being non conformist, the GAY SHIP IN THE 80S IS!!

“The only people who queerbaited, was byler fans themselves lmao.”

even if we're ignoring the horrible grammar there are still SO many things wrong with everything that was just said. what they're saying above for anybody who can't decipher the weird medieval english code this person is using is that bylers actively queerbaited themselves which inherently makes no sense at all.

below i have included the oxford dictionary definition of queerbaiting: "the incorporation of apparently gay characters or same-sex relationships into a film, television show, etc. as a means of appealing to gay and bisexual audiences while maintaining ambiguity about the characters' sexuality."

how is it possible that byler shippers themselves are the ones doing the queerbaiting? are we running the show? nope! before you come on and post something as offensive as this- which i will get into- at least make sure you know what you're saying. xoxo

to insinuate for even a second that mike wheeler not being gay would be anything other than deliberate queerbaiting is insane. there is something wrong with you. aside from the parts of the show where his queerness is deliberately alluded to like music, costuming, analogies, allegories, and set design, netflix has been, weather you like it or not, actively marketing in favor of byler and mike not being straight. all below come from official netflix accounts-

how is this not queerbaiting? genuinely what are you on about. this is literally textbook.

“will is fruity but mike didn't like the fruit on his pizza”

you seriously are basing your argument about mike not being gay on him not liking fruit on pizza? you seriously think that some of the most commended and celebrated writers of the last decade would use symbolism involving a word that can literally be interpreted as a slur when their show has two characters who are canonically a part of the group affected said slur? are you fucking stupid? that was harmless banter used to communicate the differences in habitual action across the country. it wasn't the duffers trying to do for you what they do for us in deliberate, straightforward NON-OFFENSIVE symbolism.

i saw somebody claim that mike's character arc in season four was inherently about not believing in his self worth nor in his competency to be in a relationship with el

while i do for the most part agree with you, i'm going to ask you a question- mike was never anxious about his identity and self worth involving el before season four. why do you think that just came up now if not for the fact that he's been having insecurities involving his sexuality and romantic attraction to women as a whole? in my opinion, mike realized that he might not like girls in that way circa the end of season three- a realization that only festered and grew through the absence of not only the boy he loves that is causing this insecurity but the girl whom he is using as a way to say hey, i can't be gay, i have a girlfriend! mike was clearly going through some serious emotional struggles as we can immediately see in this scene with how suddenly awkward he is with will and the immediate emphasis that's put on the "from mike" on the flowers.

i agree that his season four and part of his season five arc are about his feelings of insecurity about being in a relationship with el, however, i don't think he's insecure because he thinks she's better than him in the sense that she's some superhero, i think he thinks she's better than him because he knows that he'll never be able to love her the way she deserves to be loved. he's not going to outright come and say to will that he doesn't think that he can love her in the way she deserves to be loved. he's closeted. what he says in the van scene is the only way he knows to express his feelings. it's very similar to what will does in the same scene. it makes no sense for this insecurity to randomly manifest in him if it wasn't for an external factor that doesn't involve el, because nothing has really changed with the dynamic of their relationship other than the move. one could argue that mike is feeling insecure over el's supposed popularity she claims to have in her letters, but mike's arc has never been about caring about popularity in school. that's not something on his mind so much as the grand scheme of the world is. lets not forget that he joins hellfire in season four.

“When Mike didn’t say “I love you”, By*ers twisted it to their narrative. When Mike did say “I love you”, By*ers twisted it to their narrative.”

you literally sound like trump going on about the democrats. listen to what your saying right now. also, it's a ship name. there's no need to censor it you fucking weirdo.

wasted time building up mileven

i'm sorry, what build up? i'm confused. there's no "build up". THIS is build up:

above is will, possessed by a monster who feeds off of those lacking love in their lives, only being able to be broken out of possession by a heartfelt monologue by the PERSON HE LOVES detailing how the best decision he ever made was to befriend him.

above is will claiming he will never fall in love, then his love for one of the other main characters becomes a central plot point of the two seasons to come. joyce and i see through will and all of you weird milevens

mike telling will how it's not his fault will doesn't like girls only after he loses the person he's been using to cover up his own insecurity about the same thing- not liking girls. suspicious.

will's LOVE FOR MIKE being the thing to give him the confidence to help el SAVE THE WORLD, only episodes after we establish that mike is bound to be pissed that he was lied to. and theres no buildup? THERE'S REALLY NO BUILDUP?

if you don't see buildup i fear you are literally just a lost cause because it is so painfully obvious to anybody who made it past seventh grade english class that there is something deeper and more intimate than friendship going on between will byers and mike wheeler.

“Women can be independent while being in a relationship guys😭!!”

OBVIOUSLY! i am literally the biggest feminist on the entire western seaboard. i couldn't agree more with this, which is why we have arcs like nancy's where she actively becomes more independent while still maintaining a relationship with jonathan. the difference is that mike and el have been together since they were like thirteen. when el was immersed into the real world for the first time in season two she immediately leaned on mike for support in that. it's not that she can only be independent on her own, it's that mike is directly symbolic to her of a time when she was stumbling around the world with naivete and not quite knowing how to navigate that. by spreading her wings away from that relationship, it will not only give her independence, but also a way to see beyond the barriers of hawkins and a life where she was valued mostly for the qualities she brings to the supernatural equation. el's arc is one of my favorites. i would never claim such a thing and discredit the essence of what makes the emotions behind her character so interesting. she's somebody who was literally raised in a lab. she shouldn't be held back by somebody she is quite literally dependent on.

last but not least, i saw a post that said milevens always win.

"are you sure about that?" i ask, noah schnapp's most recent instagram post open on my phone, finn wolfhard's spotify playlist in my headphones, my mike holding will's painting funko on the desk in front of me, wearing a yellow shirt with a blue sweater over it.

thank u for listening to my ted talk 💙💛

[spdrvyn]

tearful territory

miguel and a sensitive, tearful reader. you try to overcome the obstacle that is sobbing and crying whenever you're confronted by your ever stern and stoic boss, but your habit gets the best of you. no matter how hard you try to hide it.

hurt/comfort. miguel is bad with feelings. reader is bad with regulating their feelings. bad feeling and bad feeling regulation everywhere! thank you for this ask, anon <3

dividers by @/cafekitsune

You've been labeled as the family crybaby for as long as you could remember, so when you moved out, you'd figured that the habit of tearing up over even the tiniest of inconveniences would evade you. After all, you were now a hardened vigilante, beating up bad guys, saving a bunch of people should have gotten you tough skin. 

Wrong! While you have obviously improved and it hasn't been as bad as when you were still a kid, the tears that found themselves home in your eyes were now just protected by a mask, a symbol of your heroic deeds that hides the weak, meek, and fragile person beneath it. 

As you got recruited into Spider Society though, your mask was on more than half of the time. Even when eating, you only had it half-lifted just in case push came to shove.

Was it a little ridiculous? Yes. More than. But you'd rather bare the strange looks of people passing by you rather than have a full cafeteria of spiders witness you cry. You certainly didn't need to be labeled as Spider Society crybaby too, making work arounds for your habit was working for you now anyway.

Unfortunately, the universe is cruel. Oh-so cruel. 

You were a relatively new addition to the Spider Society which means that the head honcho had been doting on you for a while now, doting was a strong word, but he'd call you into his office to give you feedback on your performance in missions so far.

Completely fine, besides most of the reports had been positive. Though, the thing about Miguel is that he's actually an uplifting boss when he can be. Which means he always gave you advice, tips to help you get better next time, and pointed out your mistakes from each mission. 

Again, completely fine! You were okay with criticism, more than okay with it. But that lump that formed in your throat, the warmth that crept into your face, it functioned like clockwork. So you've just resorted to keeping your mask on whenever you had a meeting with him too, problem solved. 

Another thing you didn't know about Miguel though was despite his lack of a sixth, spider-like sense, he'd a habit of his own. To be an observer, to pick up on the small details of the people he worked with. Even if he only saw them by mere chance, only passing by some in the multiple hallways of headquarters on occasion. 

It wasn't rocket science, even if Miguel did know rocket science, to figure out that you had an... issue with dealing with the slightest forms of rejection. Aside from the obvious hint that you were always masked around him, he also noticed that you were radio silent for most of the meetings, only interjecting with quiet 'mhm's and 'okay's. 

You were so quiet around him that it almost made him seem chatty. Miguel. Chatty. Those two words could not be in the same sentence, yet you made it possible. 

He didn't want to force you to take your mask off, the end goal wasn't to see you cry, but after a few months of having literal one-on-one meetings with him, he hadn't really sparked any form of connection with you. 

This time when you were called in, you two went through the ropes per usual. It didn't seem like you noticed Miguel's (un)conscious efforts to soften his tone, to relax his shoulders, and to not look completely stone-faced when talking to you. 

Miguel wasn't particularly used to this, has he had people cry in front of him? More than too many times, but never had he seen your case before. It made him wonder what was going on in that head of yours, to care so much about his input that you'd hide shedding even a single tear in front of him. 

The approach to the end of the meeting was steadfast, but before he let himself dismiss you. He asked, "Why do you always keep your mask on?" 

He knew fully well the reason why, but to hear it come from your mouth, would make it even more worthy of an answer. 

But the thing is that you don't answer him. It's the awkwardest moment of his life, he thinks. Two of you just standing there, his brows knit together in confusion and he's about to repeat his question or ask if you heard him until the smallest of squeaks ring in his ears and now you're turning your head away and clasping a hand over your mouth to conceal your noises. 

He followed in your direction, but he can't even see your face. Your shoulders shook as your fingers sloppily pulled your mask up so that you could furiously swipe at the tears that streamed down from your eye. You bit at your lip so hard to silence yourself to the point where you could be crying about how you're about to draw blood simply from the force of it. 

Miguel hadn't said anything, you couldn't see him either. How could you? You literally just broke down crying in front of him, there's no way you could ever show your face again here. 

You want to say something, you tried to at least. But all you get out is a choked, "Sorry, I'm-- Sorry." To which you don't even get a response to, but you can feel it. That thousand yard, judgemental stare that you always get for reacting like this. 

Which only caused you to get more shaken up when Miguel places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, which he uses to manuever you closer to him and to let him see your tear-struck face. Your first instinct to cower, you want to bring your hands to your face and peel your skin off like a banana peel, but Miguel doesn't let you.

In his other hand is a tissue to when he tenderly presses just below your eyes to wipe at the wetness, that hand on your shoulder moves to your chin and he lifts your face upward to get a good look at you. He doesn't look angry, rather concentrated. Locked in. 

Your chest heaves with the effort to keep it together, the onslaught of a really bad headache is rising over the horizon like it always does. Once Miguel's done, he discards of the tissue before he takes off your mask completely and sets it aside on his desk. The hand on your chin remains, a thumb on one cheek and the rest of his fingers on the other so your face looks a little smushed right now. A sight he'd like to appreciate if not for the circumstances. 

"So is this a common thing or?" The question almost seems a little unserious in nature, but that is mainly just the product of Miguel's awkwardness. He doesn't particularly do feelings, and he can't ask if you're okay because that might just lead to even more crying. 

Your voice is too dead to properly reply, you move your face in a half nod considering the grip he has on you. "And you've been wearing your mask because you don't want me to see?" He asks again, you nod more bashedly. 

A thin hum of understanding is all you can hear for him and he lets go of your face, but you can't hide anymore. Your mask is somewhere on his desk, it's managed to disappear among the slight mess that there is. It's awkward again, no words coming from either of you until–

"You're dismissed. Come back tomorrow." What? That's it? You put on this embarrassing display, you bawled in front of him, and he's letting you go? No lecture about how you need to be stronger of anything? 

The thought chases you in your dreams later on in the night. You found it hard to fall asleep that you swore you saw the sun peeking through the blinds once you were mentally fatigued enough to succumb to your exhaustion, you groggily swung over to Miguel's lab, your grip on your webs were too loose for your own safety but you managed to get over to him without any incidents. 

However, once his platform comes to a clicking halt, Miguel's back is turned to you. You notice that he wears a long sleeved turtleneck over his spider suit, a combination of articles you haven't seen on him before. 

The screen he was paying attention to turns off as he picks up a coffee cup on his right hand side and he holds it up to you, "It's colder out today." 

Whether that's to answer for the coffee or the drip, you don't mind. Silently taking the beverage, it brings warmth to your hand and you assume that it's freshly brewed considering the steam that comforts your cold cheeks. Miguel's attempt at small talk, despite how awkward, makes you feel a bit better. 

Maybe you needed this. This kind of one-on-one meeting. It's clear that he came to that same conclusion too, but for now, you'll enjoy your coffee, sit in the decreasingly uncomfortable silence, and look forward to the days you won't cry as much anymore.