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darkmatilda · 4 days ago

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𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your boyfriend decides he’s going to start calling you a cute pet name, but the problem is, none of them seem to suit you perfectly

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: glasses reid x baumember!female reader, so sweet you'll puke, case in the background, unsub is abducting elderly people, text messages, reader is kinda clingy, use of y/n because i had to

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @trulymadlydarling <33 sorry if it ended up a bit too long again, but im starting to suspect that im physically incapable of writing a drabble lmao

"I'm tired. When will this week be over?"

"It's 9:13 on Monday."

With a groan, you leaned back against the seat in the corner of the jet, feeling the caffeine craving slowly take control of your body.

"Just the thought of going to sleep sends intense shivers through me, caused by a heart-wrenching longing, and heavy tears slowly start gathering in my eyes," you complained, resting your head to the side.

Slightly turned, so you could look at Spencer sitting right next to you. His eyes, behind his glasses, also seemed a little tired, though he didn't manifest it as loudly. When you sat down next to him, he partially closed the book he was reading and rested it against the edge of the table in front of him.

"When you're sleep-deprived, you tend to get a bit dramatic," he pointed out in an analyzing tone, though you could catch a slight twitch at the corners of his lips.

"It's not drama, silly. It's the personification of pure exhaustion speaking through my lips."

"I love it when you try to argue with me and end up agreeing with me."

"You just love being right, don't you, smarty?" you huffed. "You love me too, but that's just a side note."

"Oh, now you're teasing. That's good. Means the sleepiness is wearing off," he diagnosed.

Sometimes you were genuinely amazed by how well he knew you, despite being together for such a short time—though maybe you shouldn’t have been. He was a profiler, just like you. Both of you were exceptionally good at reading each other, picking up on moods and small, everyday habits. You used to worry a little that this might make your relationship boring, stripped of surprises. But you quickly realized there’s nothing more captivating than another mind that matches your own and deeply understands its struggles. And sometimes, that feeling itself was a pleasant surprise.

"Next weekend, we're not going anywhere, okay?" you asked in a dreamy tone. The day before, you’d gotten back way too late, which was mostly to blame for your sleepiness. "Not even out of bed."

A look crossed Reid's face, somewhere between eagerness and a grimace.

"I’d love to," he assured with a genuine sigh, but then quickly added, "But I’m afraid I’ve already got something planned."

You tried to keep up the facade of your role, not showing too much excitement. You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"I'm starting to suspect you have plans for every weekend for the rest of our lives."

"Actually, just for the next fourteen weeks," he admitted with a slight shrug, as if it wasn’t anything to be impressed by.

You weren’t sure if he was joking, and you didn’t get the chance to find out.

"Hey, lovebirds," Morgan called from the other end of the jet, where the whole team was gathered around a small table, ready to start discussing the case. "We're waiting for you."

For a while, you kept it a secret from them that you were starting to expect, but eventually, you had to come clean. Especially when Penelope, who knew everything, started taking every chance to send you suggestive glances or drop not-so-subtle comments. The rest of the team’s reaction wasn’t particularly emotional. They didn’t start screaming in surprise or jumping up and down in disbelief. They were profilers—they had figured it out. But they had enough decency to wait until you told them yourselves. No hard feelings, sweet Penelope.

You took the empty seat next to Gideon, right across from your boss and JJ. Reid settled into a chair on the side, where Morgan immediately poked him with his elbow.

"So, how’s it going in love land today?" Morgan asked, smirking. "Are puppies falling from the sky, and is it going to rain hearts this afternoon?"

You’d gotten so used to these kinds of jabs that, in perfect sync, you both rolled your eyes and opened your mouths to defend yourselves. It wasn’t like you two were constantly all lovey-dovey, exchanging kisses and holding hands at every chance! Morgan just loved to tease you, knowing how much it irked both of you when someone accused you of being unprofessional.

“Take it easy, it’s just the honeymoon phase," Gideon warned, not even looking at you as he adjusted his small square glasses, focusing instead on the folder in front of him. "You grow out of it."

On the laptop screen, Garcia’s face appeared, complete with an orange rose headband in her blonde hair.

"Well, hello there, babygirl," Derek greeted her, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"Hello, you charming, sweet, handsome thing…

Hotch exchanged a knowing look with Gideon.

“As you can see, not always," he muttered under his breath so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. JJ, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, briefly lowered her amused gaze, trying to hold back a smile. "Shall we get started?"

The atmosphere shifted instantly, as if with the snap of fingers, when you began discussing the case. This time, it was a series of murders targeting men around the age of seventy-four.

"Are we sure this is the work of a serial killer?" Derek asked, his earlier light tone replaced with focus and seriousness. "I mean, looking at it, these guys don’t have much in common aside from their age."

“They’re all from the same area,” you noted, flipping through the victims' files. “But yeah, they don’t have much else in common. Different jobs, some married, some not…you think age is the reason the unsub picked them?”

“Looks that way,” Hotch said.

“About two weeks ago, his granddaughter reported him missing,” JJ informed you, pointing to a photo of an older man. “Ben Murphy, seventy-six years old. He’s from the same area, and all signs point to him being the unsub’s next victim. Each of the victims was held for an estimated three weeks, so there’s a good… a good chance he’s still alive.”

A brief silence settled over the room, heavy with the pressure of time.

“But why keep them alive for that long?” Spencer muttered, his brow furrowed in thought. “None of the bodies show signs of physical torture. They were killed with a lethal dose of insulin. If he chose that method, it doesn’t seem like he wanted to hurt them directly. The motive…the motive is unclear.”

The rest of the discussion revolved around trying to find connections and similarities to other crimes you were all familiar with, but you didn’t come up with anything groundbreaking that would significantly push the investigation forward. However, this didn’t stress you. You were just heading to the place where everything had taken place; you hadn't yet spoken to the victims' families, which often turned out to be crucial.

Just before the jet landed, you found yourself next to Reid, resting your elbow on his shoulder like it was some kind of convenient armrest while you pondered which card to discard from the ones laid out by JJ. This position made it much easier for him to sneak peeks at your cards, which he took full advantage of whenever he thought you weren’t looking (you were looking), so you had to hold them in a very awkward way to prevent him from seeing.

“C’mon,” JJ urged, as the time you were taking to think started to drag on.

You bit your lip.

“Easy for you to say. You’re winning,” you huffed, to which she flashed you a confident smile. “Great minds need time to come up with a solution. Right, Spence?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes…”

"Ugh, I wanted you to defend me, you silly..."

“Guys, do you know what I’ve been thinking?” Morgan appeared above you, pulling his headphones off his head.

“Scientists haven’t figured out a way to peek into other people’s thoughts yet,” Reid answered him, staring at the card you had just discarded and raising an eyebrow. Seriously? You shrugged. You knew it was a pitifully bad move. “So no, we don’t, Morgan.”

“I went over the case files again…” Derek continued, completely ignoring the ironic comment from his friend. “Mr. Murphy went missing right after a date with his wife…”

“...And may I ask why you’re sharing this incredibly sad fact with us?” you interjected.

“They went to the botanical garden,” Derek continued. Everyone stopped, staring at him with completely baffled expressions. “Then they hit up the American Revolution Museum. And I couldn’t help but think of you two. Sounds like the perfect date for you, right?”

You were the first to react, rolling your eyes dramatically. You placed your cards face down in front of you, then rested both hands on Reid's shoulder, leaning your chin on them. You let out a long sigh.

"Can we get just one day without fighting off the nerd allegations?"

"Hey, I'm not mocking you," Morgan said, raising both hands in the air. "Just pointing it out. So, what did you two get up to over the weekend?"

Reid turned his face slightly toward you, exchanging a look. Given how you were positioned, the frame of his glasses lightly brushed your forehead. Well, if you answered your teammate's question honestly, you’d be proving him absolutely right. Before you could manage to turn the question back on him, you were preempted.

"We went up to the hill to try and watch the meteor shower," Reid answered, sticking to the truth. Morgan tilted his head, staring at both of you with interest. "But the sky ended up being too cloudy, so we ended up finding a night exhibit at the museum about space..."

You could see the victorious expression slowly spreading across Derek's face.

"You’re sinking us, silly," you muttered into your boyfriend's arm.

"She's right, silly," Morgan echoed the nickname with exaggerated emphasis. "Anyway, I won’t bother you any longer. Enjoy your game. Oh, and by the way, JJ peeked at your cards when you weren’t looking…"

"JJ!"

"That’s a lie—"

"Did he really come over here just to compare us to a pair of retirees?" Reid wondered, watching Derek walk away.

"And to expose a cheater," you added, shooting a look at your friend across the table. You’d lifted your chin from Reid’s shoulder, but your hand still rested there, your fingertips lightly brushing against him—not that you even noticed. Did that even count as touching?

You pointed at JJ with determination. "We’re starting over."

"We’re about to land," she noted, placing her cards on the table and revealing her hand. "So I’ll let it go. But you’re getting your rematch, trust me."

"Oh, I can’t wait."

She walked off, leaving the two of you alone in the corner of the jet. You noticed Reid had been watching you for a while, his expression unreadable. When you finally caught on and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, he just shrugged and gathered the cards from the table. His fingers shuffled them with effortless precision, the motion smooth and almost hypnotic.

You shook your head, tearing your gaze away from the cards and focusing on his face again.

“What thoughts are you hiding in that brilliant mind of yours, smarty?”

“Those exactly,” he replied almost immediately. He fell silent for a moment as he tucked the cards back into the box. You watched him closely, curiosity piqued, waiting to hear what he’d say next because you didn’t fully understand his response.

“You always call me something,” he added after a pause. “You know…”

“Pet name,” you supplied the term he was missing.

He nodded, and you stayed quiet for a brief moment, wondering if you really used them that often. You’d never given it much thought—they just slipped out naturally when you were teasing him. He’d never reacted to them before, and it had never even crossed your mind that it might cause him any discomfort.

Your expression grew a bit more serious as you shifted in your seat to face him directly.

“Does…does it bother you? Because, you know, if it does…”

“No!” he denied quickly, a faint hint of embarrassment flashing across his face, as if wondering whether he’d been too eager. He shifted into a calmer expression, letting out a small sigh. “No, that’s really not it. Actually…I like them. I like when you use them.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as he admitted it. But the question still lingered in your mind—if that wasn’t it, then what was?

"I just realized…" he continued slowly, with a hint of hesitation. You noticed that both of you had lowered your voices compared to the lively chatter during the card game. It was as if, unintentionally, you'd created a small bubble, separating this moment from the rest of the team.

You liked his whisper. Sometimes, it felt stronger than his regular voice, mostly because whenever he lowered it, it was usually tied to some genuine emotion.

"That I never use them myself. I mean, I don’t call you anything other than your name."

"I don’t…I don’t expect that from you."

"I know. I know, it’s not like I thought you were expecting it. I just started wondering if maybe you'd like me to... to start doing it too. I admit, it’s not something I’m used to—"

"If you’re comfortable with it," you interrupted him without meaning to, feeling the need to emphasize it. Until now, it hadn’t mattered how he addressed you; it didn’t bother you when it was just your name. After all, hey, it’s not really the most important thing in a relationship. But when he suggested it, you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach. "I’m serious, Spence. Don’t force yourself if it feels unnatural," you added, slowing down a bit, feeling the slight tremor in the corner of your lips. You noticed how his brow furrowed slightly when he caught that movement. Usually, it meant there was an idea forming in your head, and this time, it was no different. "But if you really want to…you should know I have some requirements in this area."

"Requirements?" he repeated, sounding confused, as if he thought he misheard. "Sorry, but what kind of requirements could you possibly have when it comes to pet names?"

“Oh, you have no idea how many,” you scoffed, leaning slightly toward him with a mischievous gleam in your eye. Reid blinked, clearly both curious and a bit apprehensive. “I know you, your mind... so I guess you shouldn’t be surprised that I’m expecting you to be creative. I mean no babe. No honey.

Spencer stared at you for a moment, a look of disbelief crossing his face, before he let out a soft laugh.

"Alright, I’ve got it. No babe, no honey. Anything else to add to your list of demands?"

"Hmm, let me think," you murmured, to which he rolled his eyes. You didn't actually have anything else in mind; you just wanted to keep him in that state of uncertainty. But then, an additional thought occurred to you. "Oh, I know. It has to really fit with me. And with you. I want using it to come as naturally to you as possible. And I don't want you complaining to Penelope later, saying I forced you into it."

"Seriously, do you think I'd complain about you to Penelope behind your back?" he asked, pretending to be offended. He shook his head as if disappointed. "It's obvious I go straight to Morgan with stuff like this..."

You lightly tapped his arm.

"Is everything clear?" you made sure to ask, keeping your hand on his shoulder.

He glanced at your hand briefly before nodding.

"As clear as the sun. Has to be original and fit," he recited the two demands in their briefest form. He left his mouth slightly open, as if he wanted to add something, as if he was about to come up with the perfect nickname, but clearly, he hadn’t thought of one yet. He let out a short sigh of surrender. "This...this might take a while."

"Take your time, babe."

"Hey, you said we're not using that..."

"I only said you’re not using that”

"So what’s the point of giving me all these demands when..."

You both fell silent only when the jet neared its landing.

Working on the case had put a bit of distance between you. Well, it wasn’t unusual—there were often plenty of witnesses to interview, multiple locations to visit or search, and the team simply had to split up. Whenever Hotch assigned you somewhere, he always paired you up in the most complementary way possible, ensuring that your skills and experience balanced each other out. As the youngest members, relying more on brains than brawn, you and Reid rarely ended up partnered together.

And this time was no different.

You sat in the front seat of the car beside Gideon, who was driving. The two of you were headed to one of the victims' homes in silence, and you used the moment to glance at your phone—only to spot a message from none other than Reid.

spence: I’ve been thinking about what we talked about on the jet, and I think I have a few suggestions that meet all of your conditions.

spence: Sorry for texting, but I’m not sure if we’ll get a chance to see each other today, and I wanted to tell you that.

y/n: tell me

y/n: i mean u should be thinking about the case rn not about me

y/n: but i’m just gonna assume ur brain is multitasking enough to do both

spence: Because it is.

y/n: wow so humble

y/n: so???

y/n: what’s with the pet names

y/n: surprise me, genius

spence: Sorry, I don’t have time to write proper explanations for all of them or explain why I think they suit you.

spence: But a few of them are love, dear, darling.

y/n: sweet, but kinda basic

y/n: anyway up to you

y/n: u’ll be the one saying them

spence: Yeah, but you’ll be the one called them, and it has to be something you like. What do you think?

spence: Maybe something less typical like pumpkin

y/n: pumpkin HAHAHA

spence: ?

y/n: sry, i just can’t picture u saying that out loud

y/n: u browsing some top 100 pet names for ur gf site rn?

spence: No

y/n: i’m telling garcia to check ur browsing history, silly

y/n: don’t even delete it she’ll find it anyway

spence: I admit, pumpkin is awful

spence: I really like daisy, but i know you're allergic to pollen

y/n: how do u know i’m allergic to pollen?

spence: 👍🏼

It was truly an exhausting yet enlightening response. Anyway, you didn’t dwell on it too much. Sometimes he just knew. Together with Gideon, you had already arrived at the right address, so you shoved your phone back into your pocket and got ready to get back to work.

The words we are ready to deliver the profile were a milestone in every case you worked on.

They marked a gathering of the entire team, where you would collectively organize the information you had gathered during the investigation. Together, you had managed to uncover the unsub’s identity, but there was still the task of determining their motive and locating where they might be holding their still, as you hoped, victim.

"The unsub spent most of his life caring for his severely ill, mentally abusive grandfather, of whom he was the only relative, which is why he now targets victims of a similar age," Derek began, crossing his arms over his chest. "He holds them for twenty-three days, mirroring the twenty-three years he dedicated to caring for him."

"He sees it as lost time, wasted. He never finished school, he was socially withdrawn. By repeating the same pattern with his victims, he believes he's getting something back," explained Reid, standing beside you, tapping one hand thoughtfully.

"This is all we have,” you muttered under your breath. ‘But we're missing the most important thing. Where is he? Where is he holding this man?”

“Garcia is working on that,” Hotch reassured you, pressing his finger to the earpiece.

“Give... give me some time,” Penelope asked in a distant tone, drowned out by the sound of keys being pressed rapidly. “ I think I have something... I need to check...ugh, fifteen minutes!”

After those words, she fell silent, leaving you all in anticipation. With a sigh, you crossed your arms over your chest, hoping she would find something. Reid stood by your side, slightly separated from the rest. Yet when he spoke, he lowered his voice to a murmur.

You stepped closer to hear him better.

"Vivi," he said softly.

You frowned at him, and his gaze hesitantly met yours—but once it did, it refused to let go.

"From the Latin vivus," he explained. "Full of life, vibrant."

You remained silent for a moment, savoring the echo his words left behind and the look on his face—just a hint of uncertainty creeping in as he waited for your reaction. If it weren’t for the fact that your team members were bustling around and the circumstances weren’t exactly romantic, you might have slipped under his arm. Instead, you settled for a small, sweet smile.

"That’s really pretty, Spence," you admitted, catching the faint shimmer in his dark eyes. "You think it suits me? Do you like it?"

He nodded slowly. You couldn't shake the feeling that something didn’t quite fit, that it didn’t sound natural coming from him. Maybe it was just your imagination? Or perhaps he was distracted, lost in more important thoughts while you were bothering him with pet names? You didn’t really have time to figure that out. At that moment, Garcia’s raised voice cut through the line, announcing that she might know where the unsub is holding his victim.

In the next moment, you were already on your way to the given address, listening to instructions on how to get inside without causing harm to the elderly man being held captive. When you and Reid reached him, he was loosely tied to a chair with rope, his head hanging limp against his chest. You crouched beside him, checking his pulse. It seemed like a simple loss of consciousness, likely caused by the stress and exhaustion of being held captive for over two weeks.

"Untie him," you said automatically to Reid, even though he had already started doing it before you spoke. "Can you hear me, sir? Damn it, I think we’ll need an ambulance..."

"Since when do angels curse?" A hoarse, weak whisper escaped the man's throat.

You exchanged confused glances with Spencer, momentarily frozen in place. The man's temples twitched before he gently lifted his head. His gaze landed on your face, and very slowly, he began to regain full consciousness.

"I died. And you're an angel, right?" he asked.

You sighed with a certain sense of relief. He was a bit delirious, but it seemed nothing serious was wrong with him.

"Don't worry, you’re not dead, sir. Actually, you’re perfectly fine and will be home soon..."

"Whatever you say, angel."

You saw Reid, who was untying the man, try to hide a amused expression on his face. Even after two weeks spent in captivity, Mr. Murphy managed to muster a bit of stubbornness. He told the arriving paramedics that he would only get into the ambulance if the angel who freed him went with him. And since you felt really sorry for the elderly man who had been kidnapped and whose mind was a bit frail, you did it.

You didn’t get back on the jet until late at night. Throwing yourself into the seat next to Spencer, you struggled to suppress another yawn. You didn’t even realize when your temple lightly rested against his arm, but through your partially closed eyelids, you noticed him closing the book he had been reading and placing it in his lap.

"Long day, huh, angel?" he asked. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, brushing your ears as you leaned against him.

"So, you spent the whole day trying to come up with the perfect pet name and ended up just going with the one some confused old guy called me?"you asked, opening your eyes and turning your head to look at him. Or rather, from the position you were in, at his jaw. "Watch out, Spencer Reid. I might accuse you of being lazy."

"I'm not lazy," he denied. "I'm just looking for inspiration in unusual places. Besides, it fits, don't you think? Angel."

"Mhm. Lazy."

With those words, you closed your eyes again, snuggling against him more comfortably. Spencer shifted slightly in his seat, using his free hand to tuck the hair falling onto your face behind your ear.

"Sweet dreams, angel."

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thelostconsultant · 7 months ago

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Invisible string

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Red Bull Racing has a new sponsor. You host a party as the head of that company to celebrate this agreement. Max has no choice but to attend, but the evening ends with a pleasant surprise after he meets you in person. Maybe he was wrong about you all along.

note: I'm everything but a scientist. If you are one, please, ignore the amount of inaccuracies. There must be a lot.

part two

“You're insane,” Robert told you for the hundredth time that day when he arrived at your place, although every time there was a little laugh accompanying the comment.

Maybe he was right. Deciding to spend over three hundred million dollars on sponsoring an F1 team did sound insane, but he did agree to do it, and you signed the contract together. Sure, sixty percent of the company was yours, it was mainly your call, but he was still your mentor.

But he didn't stand in your way, he knew how passionate you were about this sport, and your biotech company could use the PR and marketing opportunities that came with this partnership. And let's not forget about the political aspect, because there were lots of important people who loved the sport and supported a top team like Red Bull Racing.

Your assistant came up to you to ask a few questions, but once she was gone, you folded your arms and stuck out your tongue at Robert. “You’re just jealous because it was my idea. Jokes aside, it's a good thing. F1 comes to the US so many times these years, it's good to be a big sponsor of a top team. Have you seen what kind of people attend the races? Exactly who we need to charm.”

“You never had an issue with charming people without such a big investment,” he noted with a sigh.

You bit your lower lip and turned away to look out into the backyard that was by now full of party decorations. You wanted to celebrate the announcement with an elegant party at your place, and you invited board members, top employees, some important people to schmooze with, and people from the newly sponsored F1 team.

“We need some legislation changes to kickstart the new project, you know that,” you told him eventually when you turned back to him. “I wish we could afford to be patient, but we need to launch it as soon as we can.”

Robert put a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed it. “You stress too much about that. Take it easy,” he said.

Easier said than done, but you didn't want to continue this conversation. “I need to get rid of my yoga pants and change into something red, so make yourself at home as usual,” you told him with a smile before rushing away.

“Oh, so you're still a Ferrari fan, aren't you?” he called after you, bringing up the elephant in the room.

With a laugh, you came to a halt and spinned on your heels to face him again. “Yeah, and my favorite team is a joke at the moment. This was purely a business decision.”

Max did his research. Well, it was mostly the team handing out dossiers about the host and her business partner, along with a couple of other important people who were expected to attend the party, but he did read every single page and memorized each and every one of them.

When he reached the gate of his destination, he found armed guards outside, and he let out a frustrated groan at the sight. It was ridiculous. He didn't even want to be here. But he had to be a good boy and attend to act as the poster boy of the team. Hopefully he just says hi, maybe says a few words about how great this partnership will be, exchanges a few sentences with a few people and that would be it.

“Loosen up a bit, you look terribly tense,” Adrian told him from the passenger seat.

Easy for him, at least he would have a funny story to tell at the party. The car he wanted to come with had been stolen from the hotel’s garage, and no one knew how anyone could take it. This gave him the ammunition to keep up conversations. Lucky bastard.

Meanwhile, what was he supposed to talk about? Driving? He talks about that all the time. His hobbies? These people probably weren't the target audience. “I’m not in the mood for this,” he eventually replied with a sigh.

“No one is, but sometimes we just have to play nice and schmooze with our sponsors. This is the first time they support an F1 team, I guess they're just excited.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Max replied with a roll of his eyes. “I just… I don't know, with all the things I've heard about our host, it sounds like she is some real life female Tony Stark. She already built such a huge company, she's responsible for big innovations, and she was on Forbes' 30 under 30 list… I mean, come on.”

Adrian watched him with a deep frown. “Does it have anything to do with the fact she's a woman?”

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. “God, no, it's because of her age. This isn't some app you can make in a college dorm, then sell for a lot of money. Building that company must have taken a lot of work, she couldn't have done it alone, yet every article the team cherry-picked for us failed to mention how she did it.”

“Well, from what I've read elsewhere, her partner really did help her with the administrative part of the project, but they talked to investors together. She's smart, and nice, and I one hundred percent believe she's capable of achieving this at her age. Might I add she's only a year younger than you? You don't seem to be in such a bad situation at your age either.”

Max took a deep breath to calm himself, but in the end he couldn’t hold back the painful grunt that's been waiting to come out. “I'm miserable,” he noted sadly as he parked the car.

But Adrian wasn't in the mood for this. “You're just whining now,” he pointed out patiently.

“Whatever.”

They got out of the car and walked up to the main entrance, passing by some people who looked like boring businessmen and their airhead partners. Maybe there was a politician among them too, at least one with a big voice sure made him believe that.

Inside the two of them separated, and Max took his time to take a look around. The house was impressive; four stories as he counted outside, modern, clean design, combined with a huge backyard that ended in a lake. It must have been peaceful when there was no crowd around.

After a while he went back inside but was soon intercepted by Christian. Crap, so much for a peaceful evening. “Oh, and here's Max,” he said happily as he put a hand on his shoulder and guided him over to their little group.

“Hi,” was all Max managed to come up with.

“Welcome,” you said with a warm smile. “And good luck for this year.”

“Thanks.”

You turned to his boss with a curious look. “And where's Checo? I thought he would be coming as well.”

Christian seemed a little uneasy, but he managed to explain the absence of the team's other driver. “He has a family emergency,” he replied curtly.

Max bit the inside of his cheek in order to keep back a comment. He didn't want to attend this stupid party either, but for some reason he didn't have a choice. He never had a choice.

To his surprise, you began to laugh at this, then took a sip of your champagne with a mischievous look in your eyes. “Oh, the real get out of jail free card,” you noted.

Max snorted at this, and there was no way he could hide the huge grin that wanted to break out. All right, you got a brownie point for this comment, that's for sure.

“I'm sure he would love to be here,” Christian assured you.

“Sure.” You remained silent for a while, but just when Max was beginning to assume an awkward break would settle into the conversation, you spoke up again. “Well, I'm glad you're all here. Thank you for taking the time. Please, just make yourselves at home, and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

At one point Adrian joined the little group and decided to become a part of the conversation with one last question. “Where's Mr. Hartford?” he asked.

You let out a thoughtful hum as you looked around. “I don't know, last time I saw him he was talking to a board member. But I'm sure he'll find and greet you too. Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to say hello to a few more people. Have fun.”

The three of them watched as you walked away, and Max couldn't help but appreciate the view. That red jumpsuit you wore tonight hugged your figure so perfectly it almost made him drool. Almost. He could easily push that stupid part of his mind to the side for now. He couldn't let himself be fooled into believing you really were oh so perfect, there had to be something that was wrong with you.

“Did it kill you?” he heard Adrian's voice, and when he turned to him, he saw a knowing smile on his face.

Meanwhile Christian looked a little confused. “Did what kill him?”

“Talking to her.”

“What, you had an issue with that?”

“No,” Max protested, sending a disapproving look to the engineer who only laughed at him.

“Sure? You sounded kin–” he began, but was quickly interrupted.

“You two are insufferable, you know that, right?” Max asked them with a sigh, then rolled his eyes and left without waiting for their answer. All he wanted was a quiet corner and another glass of champagne, maybe a few bites of those delicious sliders a waiter offered him not long ago.

“Are you planning to come up with something that can race against Neuralink?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, not this again. But you forced a polite smile on your face and took a deep breath. “It's easy to come up with new, flashy innovations, but let's not forget that the root of the problem is always a bioethical one. Let's take them and their animal testing procedures for example. Whether you like it or not, euthanizing so many animals does raise ethical questions.”

“But it's for a greater good,” another man noted, earning a few nods from the people around him.

“I don't know, I believe we need to find a way to test new technologies without hurting anything or anyone first. That's one of the things we're working on at the moment. Also there's another bioethical aspect, and that's the fact these things would be expensive. The general availability is highly questionable, it would only help the rich.”

That one politician you had no choice but to invite despite every cell in your body protesting against it began to laugh at this. “And what's wrong with that as long as they pay?”

Oh, you son of a bitch, how could you be so dense? You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself, but it was really hard at the moment. Luckily, Robert realized that this was a touchy subject, so he put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

“What she's trying to say is that it should be more than just a discussion about profit,” he began to explain. “Sure, that's important to finance our research, but science is supposed to help people.”

The man gave him a condescending look, as if he was disappointed that you would both choose to help people instead of earning a lot of money. What he didn't understand was the fact your company had highly profitable solutions, which gave you the opportunity to work on things that weren't as successful financially.

“For us,” you suddenly began, your finger moving in a circle as a sign that you were talking about the members of this little group, “going to a private hospital to get treatment and paying for our prescribed medication is normal. But let's not forget that almost 8 percent of the US population is uninsured. That's 26 million people. Let's say they start coughing. What do they do? They turn to home remedies because they can't afford the medical bill. Then things get worse as it turns into pneumonia and if they're lucky, they can go to a free clinic where they're prescribed meds. But can they pay for them?”

Robert nodded, then went on to add, “And it can be anything, really, even something contagious.” Clever. That guy was known for being a germaphobe, if anything, that could surely get his attention.

But he remained silent and a woman jumped in to drive the conversation instead of him. “What about different cybernetic implants? I mean, those are pretty impressive in movies, but how close are we to actually having them?”

You shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

A painful half an hour later you and Robert went outside, walking all the way out to the lake to build a little distance from the guests. “Thanks for backing me up there,” you told him before taking a sip of your cocktail.

“Anytime,” he said as he clinked his glass with yours.

Before he could say anything else, though, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. The both of you turned around and saw Max stand there with his hands in his pockets, watching you with a polite smile.

“You have a second?” he asked.

“Sure,” you replied as you took a few steps closer to him.

“I have to go, I just wanted to thank you for the invitation and say goodbye.”

You weren't used to guests you didn't really know coming over to say goodbye before they left. Most people usually just got in their cars and drove off without a word, but honestly, you were honestly grateful for that. But this goodbye was flattering, after all you could see it on his face that under the polite smile he just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

With a nod, you held out your hand, and he took it without thinking. “Thanks for coming. I hope you could enjoy yourself a little bit. I know it's not a fun kind of party.”

“It was okay. Well, except for that woman who was raging about people who want to replace real meat with artificial meat,” he added with a laugh.

You froze and your eyes slowly narrowed at him. “Wait a second.”

Max looked genuinely confused, and his hand was still holding yours without either of you realizing it. “What?” he asked you.

“You're a genius! Excuse me.”

As you dropped his hand and began to walk away, he turned to Robert with a confused look on his face. “What did I say?” No response, only a shrug. “Where are you going?” he called after you.

“To the lab,” you finally told him without looking back.

Once again, Max turned back to the other man. “She's leaving her own party?”

“She has a lab in the basement,” you called back to answer his question.

Robert’s lips curled into an understanding smile. “Send me a text if it's something worth looking into,” he said, then turned back to Max and held up his hands. “Usually it's better not to ask.”

Despite Robert's warning, Max was now way too curious to simply ignore your strange behavior. He wanted to know what was going on in your head, so he followed you to the lab inside the house. He first arrived in an office, but through the huge windows he could see the actual lab.

“Is everything okay?” he asked after he softly knocked on the open door.

“Hmm?” You turned around with a questioning look, but once you realized it was him, you nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure. What are you doing here?”

Max walked inside, feeling completely out of place. “You ran away so abruptly that I wanted to know what's going on.”

“You gave me an idea, that's what's going on.”

“Oookay… And what was the idea?” he asked as he watched you sit behind the desk and enter your password to unlock the laptop that was connected to several monitors.

“Using something artificial instead of the real thing. That way we can bypass a barrier that's been blocking us,” you replied without looking at him.

“You lost me.”

A sweet little laugh left your lips, a sound that drew him closer as if it was a siren’s song. “All right, can you promise to keep your mouth shut about what I'm about to tell you?” Max nodded, so you grabbed the chair next to you, then pulled it closer and pointed at it to make him sit down. “Good. So one of the issues with bioprinting is that we can't be sure whether or not the cells we're working with are damaged, meaning if there's a possibility of cancer showing up later on for example.”

You were so enthusiastic, but he was so damn lost. It was the result of an unfamiliar territory, and the fact his mind could mostly focus on the way your lips moved instead of the words that left them. “Wait, what's bioprinting exactly?” he asked, unsure if he had the right idea.

Nodding, you clicked on something and it brought up a video feed. “For example, this,” you said with a proud smile.

It looked like a 3D printer, that much he knew, but what it was printing was a mystery at the moment. “What's that?”

“A 3D printed heart that's being made from my own cells,” you replied with a wide grin. “Give it another few days and it'll be ready.”

“Is that real?”

“Yep. Although, and that's what I've just mentioned, I can't guarantee it doesn't have cancerous cells. But theoretically speaking, someone awaiting transplant could get it.”

Max let out a thoughtful hum as he looked back at you. “So what does it have to do with artificial things?”

“That's how we bypass the damaged cell issue. We just need to create artificial cells that we can then turn into whatever we want them to be.”

“You think it could work?”

After thinking about it for a short while, you eventually shrugged. “Maybe,” you said quietly as you leaned back in your swivel chair. “I need to put a team together and discuss our options, then we'll see. As of now it's just a wild idea.”

“Interesting.”

To be honest, he could spend the whole night doing nothing but listening to you talk about your work. Meeting you in person changed the way he had thought about you before arriving here, and now he wanted to use this opportunity to get to know you better.

He did a quick search after first talking to you, and he read an article from the end of the last year that stated you were single. That was two months ago, maybe that hadn't changed since then. But something told him you were way too in love with your career to worry about romantic relationships, so if he wanted to get your attention, he probably had to work hard for it.

Your phone's screen lit up on the desk and he didn't miss the wallpaper. It was one of those prayer circle memes with Charles’ photo on it, which made him realize something. “You're a Ferrari and Charles fan?” he asked you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep, already getting ready for prayer circles as you can see,” you replied with a laugh as you showed him the screen. “That's their only hope, I swear.”

“Then why are you sponsoring us?” he asked.

“A business decision in its purest form.”

Was he disappointed? Maybe a little bit. In his head he was already making up scenarios, like the first time you went to a race to support him–yes, he was getting ahead of himself, so what–and now it felt like a bomb had been dropped on his plans. Sure, as a sponsor or his girlfriend you'd physically be in their garage, but your heart would be with the Italians.

Max let out a sigh as he nodded. “And here I was, thinking you just wanted to see your company's logo on a fast car. Didn't know you were actually watching the races.” He tried to keep a casual tone to make it sound like it didn't hurt him, but he had a feeling his disappointment was seeping through the cracks.

Because you remained silent for a while, and when you finally spoke up, your voice was soft and quiet. “Maybe there are a lot of things you don't know.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he responded as he rolled closer to you.

The sadness he felt slipped away as soon as it came, because it was like he got under your spell the moment he got close enough to you. Your pretty eyes were following his every move, carefully watching him as you waited for whatever was to come.

It only took him a minute to make up his mind, to take a risk and see if you were willing to play this little game with him. So he raised his hand and curled his index finger to signal you to move over to him with a playful smile on his lips. “C’mere,” he said quietly.

To his surprise, you didn't hesitate to do as you were told, you stood up and sat in his lap with your arms around his neck, meeting him halfway for a kiss. The need for something more grew inside him as the kiss deepened, and a small part of his mind shifted its focus to your jumpsuit, trying to figure out the fastest way to get you out of it.

“I'm going home on Sunday. Come with me,” he suddenly spoke up, pulling away a little to look you in the eye. “Stay for a few days. Or a week or two,” he tried with a cheeky grin.

You leaned back to reach for your phone that you left on the desk, but he had his hands firmly on your bottom to keep you in place. “I can't reach my phone,” you said with a pout. “I can't tell you if I can go without it.”

With a sigh, he rolled the two of you closer to the desk so you could get it, but he didn't take his hands off of you. As you checked your calendar, humming every now and then, he couldn't help but start and place kisses in the crook of your neck.

“How about the week after that?” you asked him as you lowered your phone. “We have meetings with the CFO, an important meeting with a certain someone that I can't delay or skip, and I want to put together the team to test my new idea. Next week's pretty crowded.”

Max cupped your cheek and made you look at him. “If there's one thing we learned from Covid is that you can do these things online. Come on, I have fast and stable connection back home,” he tried with a smile.

“But you'll let me work,” you told him sternly, to which he only responded with a laugh before kissing you again. “I hate you.”

“You don't, and you know it.”

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #invisible string

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crimsonblackrose · 2 years ago

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Sometimes I forget why I like the city because I spend so much time hurrying to where I need to go with my head down and trying to cram too much in. It’s not just because my friends live there, or because I have good memories from school. It’s that I can meet a friend I haven’t seen in ages there and take her to get her first local pizza and the staff will be ecstatic that she’d never had one, it’s that we can go into little shops and they’ll and chat about their products because they’re passionate about whatever niche shop we found and I’ll learn something, like what exactly sulfur looks like, that a little shop that’s trying to get cats adopted unexpectedly was nearly always sold out because they were next to a tattoo parlor and people coming and going from that shop would see them and go oh hey, let me go play with some cats. That we can go to a bar and the bartender will look at me and go “You look nice, don’t be nice.” and I realize that I’d been understood so suddenly and in such a specific way and setting that aside because the bartender didn’t mind making me a different drink if I didn’t like one was such a pleasant experience. That I can pop into an indie bookstore right at the same time that all these parents are taking their kids to reading time and then turning around to go to the cafe and get their drinks, preparing to settle in. Or that I can go to a museum and the kids in a family ahead of us could see that we couldn’t quite figure out the thing we were supposed to do and looped back to say “Do you mind if I show you?” and then were pretty happy to help. Let alone just how nice people in general are when you all come together in the middle of an awful snowstorm to make art. Or if you ask the old guy sitting at the visitor kiosk looking bored what historical things there are to see in the building he’ll be like “Oh boy are there a lot of things to see” and rattle off a happy list of things to see.

#mumblings #I think I try to remind myself of stuff like this but it's usually memories and not current so I get a little discouraged sometimes #but then you have a mostly pleasant time and you're just like oh right people are generally quite good #one of my friends once told me that there's an amount of stuff you have to do at an amusement park to feel like it was worthwhile #and I wonder if I get cranky sometimes when I go to the city and don't get everything I wanted to get done done #and I think it's a similar idea #that if I slow down and don't put as much pressure on myself to do all the things I want to do I can just enjoy the company of others #I think it's a taste of community #this idea of oh this place is nice and the people here are nice and maybe it would be nice to be here #even if it's not there exactly but somewhere like that #like despite the terrible airbnb it was fun to just wander #like am I a little nauseous because I ate too much stuff I don't normally and didn't get much sleep because of the upstairs neighbors? Yes #am I daydreaming about a shower in our own shower that's not the terrible airbnb one and sleeping in my own bed? Yes.#but did I go into this weekend with very low expectations and then was very happily surprised? Also yes.

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aphroditesmoon · 4 months ago

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tide

clarisse la rue x poseidon's daughter

summary: clarisse and reader have been rivals since they first met, but when someone does a harmless prank ends up seriously hurting reader, she throws all thought aside to save her.

warnings: enemies to lovers ish, drowning, reader can't swim (ironic), cursing

wc: 3k

---

It's rare that any camper get to leave camp at all, and all of them getting to leave at the same time is even more suspicious.

But no one complained when they were offered a little vacation by the river for a day. Finally, a break from all the training and learning.

Unfortunate events usually follow along after good days, but as of this moment right now, you refused to think of the Gods' dirty games with each other and how you'd all eventually be used as pawns. Whatever hurricane coming after will be dealt with when it happens. But today isn't about them or any other war you'd be forced to fight in. Today is about the campers for once.

You lounged against a large rock in your dark blue swimsuit while the others played in the water, swinging themselves of the wooden bridge from a rope. Any animosity that ever existed between different cabins disappeared today. Everyone is one and the same, and everyone regards each other as family.

You dipped your toes shyly into the clear water as you leaned back on the rock with your eyes closed, bathing under the golden sun that lit your skin up like gold. The weather was as joyous as the people's exultation, There is a certain peacefulness that spreads in the air and it was nice.

The laughter and chattering provided a feeling of comfort that you find yourself lacking these days. Being a half-blood meant adapting to the uncomfortable and dangerous, and so these kind of days where you feel that you could just exist without a burdening expectation over your head is immensely appreciated.

Your sunbathing is interrupted when you feel a shadow looming over you, and drops of water falling onto your face. Opening your eyes, you're met with a dripping wet Luke Castellan grinning down at you. "Move, you dog." You squealed, wiping the wetness off of you. He shook his head violently, scattering more water over your body, making you scream out in annoyance. "I will kill you!" You declared loudly and shoved him with your feet, making him stop.

"What are you doing on dry land, daughter of Poseidon?" He asks, unaffected with your teasing threats.

"Don't last name me, and I'm sunbathing." You informed and shoved him to the side with your feet. "Sunbathing? You're supposed to be in the water, is that not your natural habitat?" You smiled despite yourself and shook your head.

"I'm perfectly fine up here, so you can continue having your fun down there." Luke nodded absent-mindedly. "Oh it's definitely fun, alright. Though on a random note, did you notice at all that a certain someone has been sending death glares in your direction?"

You frowned, "who-?" Luke interjects. "Don't look behind you-" too late, you turned around anyways. And lo behold, Clarisse La Rue's eyes met yours, and you have never seen her twist her head around as quickly as she did at the moment.

"Oh, her." You sighed. Luke gave you a curious look of curiously. "I never understood your rivalry, not even right now." You shrugged and closed your eyes back again.

"You can go ahead and ask her about it. She just can't stop finding issues with me, always in need of an argument." It's true, you thought.

Sure, there are plenty of moments where you fought first, wanting to get your lick back. But it was all in response to her hostility first. And even now, on a day where everyone ought to enjoy themselves, she would rather stare you down so intensely, ruining her own day.

You still remember the first time you realized that she hated you. It was after you were claimed, while everyone else was in a pleasant mood, mostly surprised. Her expression is one of annoyance. Because how dare anyone here shine brighter than her. You both were still so young at the time. But it only got worse over time.

She had thought that you'd subjugate yourself to her like some coward. But you stood your ground, a daughter of Poseidon would not cower from another half blood like a spineless creature.

And as much as she's a vengeful fighter, you could also see the glint of admiration growing in her gaze over time. She didn't want to admit it, but she had finally found someone her own size. You, of course, usually dealt with things as pragmatic as you could, but some bullies are begging to be bullied back.

It wasn't all bad though, sometimes it was even fun. Like two children being petty for the sake of pettiness.

"At least one of us is enjoying our day." You thought aloud. You didn't miss the scorned expression on Clarisse's face before she looked away. "Are you enjoying your day?" Luke asks, folding his arms together.

He always thought he was good at reading people. And maybe he was with some people, but you pride yourself in being unexpected. Sometimes you say things you don't mean and do things you wish you didn't have to just to get by. People only knew things about you that you wanted them to know. Let them in a few stories and they'll think they've successfully interpreted you.

And as much as you liked Luke, he is not an exception.

"Yes, I just told you I am." He hummed in question, making you open your eyes again. "You know it's not everyday we get to leave camp like this, and you're spending it on dry land? You can sunbathe anytime you like back there."

"Why are you so keen on getting me down there?" You inquired, amused. "Because there is no way you're getting me to get in there, I mean I just had hair wash day."

"Are you sure about that?" Before you could answer, he had bowed down and grabbed you by your waist, throwing you over his shoulder.

"Luke-" you shouted out, the sudden movement taking you by surprise. It was easy to understand what he was going to do when he began running towards the bridge. You felt your blood run cold.

"Don't throw me in! I swear to god Luke-" You yelled with all your heart, but the boy seemed to assume that you were joking as he laughed at your words.

"Off with the fishes you go!" He responded and swung you off of him and straight into the large body of water. You were sure that your scream probably reached Tartarus itself as it definitely exceeded your lung capacity. The last thing you remember screaming out was 'I'm going to kill you', but those words had died on your tongue in a speed as you fell deep into the river with a splash, causing everyone near you to run out in shock.

You could hear some laughing and clapping as you melted into the water, but it all started dissolving until all you could hear were gurgles and distorted noises. You felt yourself begin to struggle while you flapped your arms around, trying to stay afloat. You were sure that you were going to die when no magical breathing miracles saved you from suffocating and drowning.

You flapped your hands and feet harder, attempting to mimic swimmers, hoping that you'll somehow take up swimming naturally despite never learning to do so for your entire life. The irony of being a daughter of Poseidon that can't swim isn't lost on you, it is exactly why you never told anyone about it. If they knew, you'd be the joke of the camp.

A solid minute has surely pass before you gave up completely in ever swimming back up, now the doubt that you were ever Poseidon's child begins to creep in on your last moments of being alive. Because surely, even if you can't swim, your father could just magically pop you back up.

Unless he is just severely disappointed in your lack of ability and deems you fit to die instead of just humiliating him. And at this very moment, you honestly would agree with him.

Your last conscious thoughts are interrupted abruptly when you felt a strong push of ripple plunging into the river, you could barely open your eyes as you continued to sink in, but the sight of a recognizable face, diving straight your way, woke you back up from the dead.

You weren't sure how to feel as sharp and hollow pain began attacking your chest while you watched the brunette swim fiercely, her hair moving wildly like strong waves hitting shore.

Her right arm circles your waist as her left one slipped under your arm, urging you to grab onto her. And grab onto her you did.

She pulled you with her easily, her hold on you firm as she swam back up. Your head throbbed at the sudden fast movement, but once your head rises out of the water and you're able to breathe again, it slowly fades away, leaving you dizzy and grateful.

"There you are." Clarisse exhaled. She sounded relieved as she gathered you into an embrace, making sure you stay afloat. "Don't pass out, stay with me for just a little more."

I'm not passing out, you wanted to argue, even at this second. But the only thing that escaped your lips is a groan of agony. "Stupid fucking imbeciles." She cursed under her heavy breathing. You almost assumed it was targeted towards you until you noticed the plural nouns added in her sentence.

"I can't-" you started, "don't say anything." Clarisse interjected in a stern tone.

Your body was limp when you both finally reached land. Everyone moved away, letting you lie down against a large boulder. You felt Clarisse's hands slowly slip away from your skin, though she's still hovering over you with a worried gaze.

"Make way!" Chiron's voice thundered through the air. Clarisse turned a deaf ear at his command and stayed by your side, but for whatever reason, he didn’t reprimand her for it.

"Who's smart idea was it to toss your friend off into the river?" Chiron asks, scanning the confused and surprised crowd of people for any guilty faces.

Luke raises his hand, unafraid but apologetic. "I didn't know she can't swim." He stated honestly, and you hear some of the other campers agreeing with him.

Clarisse's eyes remained locked on yours. You wait for any sign of mockery to appear, a hint of condescending somewhere waiting to come out, but none appears.

You could hear Chiron sighing tiredly, "Well, no one did." And he's right, what Luke did was supposed to be a harmless joke. It is unexpected that you of all people would not know how to swim. Clarisse breaks her gaze from you as she turns towards Chiron. "They didn't have to know that she can't swim to be able to see that she was drowning." Clarisse snapped, her brows furrowed together. Before the situation could end up worse than it already has, you waved your arm up and yelped in pain. "I think I'm going to pass out." You lied.

"I can get her back to the tent back there." Clarisse offered, or stated moreso. Chiron granted her permission with argument, and with that the whole crowd dissolves back into the space the same way they were before, only some spared you some glances as Clarisse helped you walk slowly towards the small tent that's slightly further from the river.

The walk back was quiet, neither of you are brave enough to start a civil conversation. It was only after she had helped you sit criss crossed inside the tent and was ready to leave that you managed to insert a small thank you. She paused in her steps and slowly whirled around to face you. "I'm teaching you how to swim when we get back." She says as a response.

It was neither a threat or an offer. Taking your silence as an agreement, Clarisse nods her head once and walked off towards her siblings, leaving you distracted and deep in thought about what just

---

It was a paradoxical situation, and yet neither of you had it in yourselves to point it out.

Perhaps amiability towards Clarisse wasn't as difficult as you'd thought it would be. But your biggest concern wasn't regarding yourself, it regarded Clarisse and her own capability of remaining amiable towards you.

She was never one to practice self restraint. Everyone in the whole camp could vouch for that. And yet here she is, knee deep in the sea with her hands holding onto your wrists, ushering you in.

"You can't stay on the shallow level forever, you need to get in deeper." She repeated for the fourth time, frustration was visible on her face.

"No, I'm telling you I can't-" you argued. Clarisse sighed in annoyance, "I'm not going to let go!" She insisted. "Yes you will, I know this trick." You glared at her like an upset child.

Her anger almost diffused as you saw a hint of humor painting over her face, as if she's trying not to laugh in your face. "I'm not tricking you, I don't waste time on tricks. If I wanted to hurt you somehow I would've just shoved you in and left." She explained in a pleading tone.

"That's very reassuring." You responded sarcastically, trying to pull away from her, but her grip was strong. "Stop acting like a child." Clarisse chided.

Your eyes widened in offesne before you started pulling your arms harder to get her off of you. "Stop it!" Clarisse yelled out, her patience thinning. You said nothing and continued to drag your feet backwards, little movements were made as Clarisse was weighing you down like a log. "Let go of me." You demanded through gritted teeth.

Her face contorted in anger, and just as you began pulling again, she let go of you completely, "fine."

Unprepared for the push of gravity, your feet slipped against the mix of rock, seashells and water, making you fall on your back, squealing in panic. You flailed your arms around trying to balance yourself up, and just before your back would be plunged down, Clarisse scrambled to wrap her arms around your back, saving you from your fall.

"Oh my god." You gasped out, palms over her shoulders. "No god," she replied dryly. "Just me."

Relief enters your chest as your feet are flat against the ground again. But it was temporary, looking at her smug expression compelled you to act as stupid as you just did, shoving her off strongly, you didn't take into account that she was still holding you, and so as she crashed, you followed along on top.

"Oh my fucking god." Clarisse growled loudly spitting up water as you crawled off of her to stand up. "You did not just do that." Sitting up, she scowled and stared down at you, looking like an angry soggy kitten with her hair and face wet.

"Well, I did. What are you going to do about it?" You snarled, wiping water off of your face. "Hey, I am not a child throwing a tantrum like you." She snapped back.

"Oh, that would be a first time for you." You scoffed at her words and walked out on her.

"Where are you going?" You heard her call out. "Away from all this bullshit." You could hear her quickly running after you, water splashing loudly as she moved.

"Look, do you think I want to do this?"

You twisted your head around to meet her gaze. "Then don't!"

"Okay." She breathed out, shrugging like it didn't matter. "But it's clear right now, that everyone knows your weakness. And not even your own father has your back right now. I'm the only one who does."

The fire in you refused to die down, but her words reduced you to ashes. Your shoulders relaxed and you took her appearane in.

She's right, your whole life, everyone had given up on you, except for yourself. You taught yourself everything and you fought to survive daily from the horrors of being a forbidden child. And this one thing, which happens to be the worst weaknesses of all considering your position, is something you can't teach yourself to do. Hell, you couldn't even bring it up without feeling like shit.

But now it's all out in the open. The jokes might be bad, but what's worse is getting hunted down and killed in ease by monsters and gods who knew that you'd have no one to protect you, not even your dad.

"Why do you care?" You ask sincerely.

She was silent for a while, looking away immediately. Not embarrassed, just deep in thought.

"I don't know, maybe I just...I know what it's like. To feel helpless, to have to pick yourself back up. And normally I don't give two shits about what anyone else feels. But I know you, and you know me. And maybe-" She inhaled deeply and finally turned to face you.

"Maybe we can help each other."

You raised a brow, "and why would you need my help, you could, I don't know, take over the world if you wanted to."

She actually smiled at that, something you rarely see and hope you would do more of. "I know it's hard to believe, but I'm not perfect."

"So, what? Are we friends now?" You ask.

She shrugged her shoulders again, "Let's start with that, sure. Now, if you can get your ass back in here, I promise I won't drown you or anything, and you can actually learn how to swim like you should've years ago?"

You took a deep breath, wincing at the idea.

"It's not as hard as you think, I know it's terrifying to think of yourself in a position where you have no control." She attempts harder, stretching out her hands towards you.

"If I drown-" you started and was quickly cut off. "You won't. I got you."

If she had uttered this sentence to you about two days ago, you would've laughed because you couldn't imagine a situation where she would have your back. But today is a different day.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #dior goodjohn #dior goodjohn x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson x reader

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soodoonimin · 3 months ago

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Logan Howlett and animal instincts (or in other words my long winded analysis of a comic book character)

So before I start, just know that I have read a lot of comics but I don't know everything. I can take notes all day long but I have a bad memory and comics are confusing so please be nice and enjoy, this took a lot of effort to put together, it’s mostly my thoughts on the character as I read the the comic books. The movie character is a lot different and I will also probably do something like this for movie Logan as well (though it will be significantly shorter).

Also there are some pictures that have blood and body horror so beware.

What does it mean to be human? Well that's a question we as humans have been trying to answer since we could think to ask it and ever since then we've never been able to give a fully conclusive answer. Why? you may ask, well because think about it like this, the traits we most often associate with humanity (higher thinking, creativity, empathy, and love) may not and some times do not always exists solely within us when applied to fiction, we write whole stories about how robots can be human too, how aliens can be human etc etc as long as they have these traits (more or less) AND LOOK I'm not going to get into a whole philosophical discussion about the nature of humanity on Tumblr.com but I do want to take a second to talk about how those traits are applied to Logan and how he has to fight to prove his humanity.

So mutants are an oppressed people but being a mutant isn't always the same for everyone. You can be a mutant like Rouge who can kill people with a single touch or mutant like Storm who can bend the weather to your will (the most obvious example). You can be a mutant like Jean with no obvious physical signs of your mutation or you can be a mutant like Kurt, where 9/10 people think you’re a demon of some kind.

But what happens when you're a mutant like Logan Howlett? I mean you look human enough, sure you're a little more hairy than most people, you have fangs, you smell, and oh yeah the claws but those are retractable so overall....you're just a normal person right? Nothing you can’t hide, right? Yeah, for the most part, yeah. But there are a couple of other things about you that someone might not know from looking at you, you have an extraordinary healing factor, you have almost animal like senses and when you are pushed to your absolute brink you go into a monstrous like a rage and kill everything in sight.

For every gift Logan was born with theres a very real curse attached to each one.

Healing Factor: Logan still feels pain, the healing factor isn’t just limited to his body but it also messes with his memories, and more importantly he’s lived a very long life. In The End comic and Old Man Logan comic etc, when he’s out lived most of the world, he’s miserable.

Keen senses: Seems great, until they’re exploited, imagine what being able to smell and see and hear that well all the time without relief must be like. Imagine not being able to tell when someone is going to die? Or when they’re lying or when they haven’t showered etc. sure you might get used to it like you might get used to pain but that doesn’t make it pleasant.

Claws: Need to really touch on this one? Aside from the obvious please remember that Logan’s claws aren’t in his knuckles but in his fucking forearms so when using them he needs to make an effort to direct them or….

Berserker rage: great to get you out of a pinch but you can’t control it. (We’ll talk more about this later)

Most people don’t see these very real downsides of Logan’s mutation, they just see a small, angry guy, who’s good at fighting and can take a hit better than almost anyone.

Here’s what worse, a lot of people (X-men included) don't see, they don't all the ways Logan hates himself (and those who do don’t see the depths of that hate he has for himself). They don't see the scared little boy whose father was killed in front of him. They don't see that little boy who killed his father's murderer and was abandoned by all but one person for one person (Rose). They don't see the young man who accidentally killed his first love while trying to protect her from his brother. They don't see the man who lived a relatively miserable life being plucked up by a group of people who only saw him as something to be experimented on. They don’t see the man who believes that if he loves someone he's destine to hurt them in one way or another because he has multiple times over (even if it wasn’t always his fault). They don’t see that for all the times that they call Logan an animal, he already believes them and he’s called himself worse many times over.

(Deep down he truly believes he deserves be to alone, especially in death. That would be his “deserved” hell. Eternal loneliness.)

Which is funny because I think Logan goes back and forth in deciding on whether or not he has any humanity in him in the first place. See in the Black, White and Blood comic, the FIRST story told in this series, is an account of Logan’s time at Weapon X and we get this…interaction:

Pourquoi tu me fais ça?///Why are you doing this to me? This "monster" asks him this on the cusp of death....

(Moments during the Weapon X program, be they real memories or not, when Logan’s humanity shone through)

And THIS almost immediately snaps him out of mind control he's under going. I don't know if he understood the words per say but I think even if he didn't, he still understood the plea on a human level. Because it wasn’t Weapon X who responded, it wasn’t the berserker, or Wolverine. It was Logan Howlett. It was a moment of humanity that broke the conditioning he’d been put through that answered that plea and stopped him. Because if you think about it, if these two memories actually are real, that means that Logan recognized this plea as the same one gave to the scientists. Now determining what did or didn't happen during the Weapon X program is difficult to parse out because they implanted false memories. BUT regardless of that there was always a part of him that held onto his humanity. But I think that just adds to the horror of it all. Imagine not being able to know what memories are yours and which ones are not? So let me ask, even if those memories are “false” does that make them any less real? Does that mean that Logan suffered any less under their stewardship? He was still kidnapped, he was still experimented on, still tortured. He still had the adimantium grafted onto his bones, he was still made into a living puppet and was still seen as nothing more than a weapon, an animal, a monster by the very people who were doing all of this to him and in some respects they are the reason he is seen as a monster by others.

At the end of that comic (where he was momentarily snapped out of his conditioning) he states that no his humanity wasn’t stolen from him but he still lives with that guilt of everything he can’t remember and the things he can remember are unreliable.

I know a lot of people haven’t read the comics so I’m not trying to do annoying about it BUT if you get the opportunity to PLEASE go read The Weapon X comic (by Berry Windsor-Smith) & Wolverine’s first limited series run (by Chris Claremont).

I specifically say that second one because I think the story that’s told is probably one of the more interesting told for Logan because of the relationship he has with Yukio and Mariko. I’m not going to get too deep into it because I really think you should read it for yourself but the basic outline of it is that where Mariko loves the man, Yukio loves the “monster”. And when he’s initially trying to court Mariko it’s his attempts to in a sense to court humanity but he fails and when he turns to Yukio. And for her part it’s not just as simple as her loving the “monster” but more than she goads it out of him, for thematic reasons and plot reasons. But needless to say, they both love Logan but they both love an incomplete version of him. (It’s a really good story and it’s literally what sold me on the idea of reading through any of the older comics.)

Anyway, (in the comics and movies especially) some people solely see him as a man with an uncontrollable side that they’d run from at the first sign of aggression and others only want that animalistic side and don’t love the man that Logan is. The thing is, he is both of those things. Think about it like this. As humans we like to think ourselves above the food chain, we like to think of ourselves as *more* than animals. And sure we’re definitely one of the most successful species of animals on Earth and we definitely don’t act on instincts in the same way most animals do, we’ve created society and rules and we do things a lot different than other animals but we are still animals.

So Logan isn’t both a man and an animal anymore than you or me. But he is a man that is more in touch with those animal instincts than the rest of us (bc of his mutation). Which I think is why when he does act on those instincts, people see him as less, because we (yes even comic book characters for this argument) only seem associate those traits with animals, with something lesser than ourselves.

The thing is, being “an animal” doesn’t need to be an insult or a condemnation of any kind. Humans are still animals but humans are still kind, and caring, humans have still created beautiful art and music and food and architecture and have got to the stars will probably go beyond the stars all while still being an “animal”.

So I think where most people get hung up on word “animal” is because it has such a negative connotation when applied to humans. And thus that negative connotation basically perpetuates itself so the only time we call other humans animals is when we mean to attack their humanity.

So back to Logan. Imo, there is no better example of this than the way people, Logan included, treat his (and subsequently him) berserker rage. Logan describes it as a monster that shares his soul, something else inside him, the real thing that makes him a monster, something that he doesn’t like, something he’s scared of, something he can’t always control but that he does everything in his power to keep away from the people he loves. Because Logan doesn’t like to kill, he doesn’t like hurting people. He might be good at it, he might be known for it but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Even when he thinks death is a deserved punishment, he isn't ever happy about having to kill. And he even says as much at one point in the comics.

And as a real quick aside, but this is almost exactly what sets him apart from Victor Creed. They're both men whose mutation gives them heightened animal like traits. The only difference is that Logan is ashamed of those parts of himself especially when they pertain to violence where Victor likes it, enjoys it; he goes out of his way for violence.

(If there is more to Victor Creed than meets the eye please tell me bc I gotta say I don’t actually know too much about him except that any time I see him in any Wolverine media I immediately laugh bc I know the two around to brawl. And I’m almost never wrong lmao)

And mind you there are times when Logan is also a hammer in the sense that he tends to punch his way through most of his problems. But he doesn't go out of his way for it in the same way Victor does despite having every reason to.

Logan has killed people but unlike Victor he isn't a killer. Even if that's what he's "the best at".

So when he goes into this specific rage that labels him a monster (an animal) it’s almost always in front of someone he loves and it’s almost always in a moment when he’s trying to prove his humanity (when it’s being used thematically and not for plot convenience). Like if you go read the comics 9 times out 10 when Logan is being called a monster or animal by some scientist or an enemy looking to humiliate him. But it’s almost always in the mitts of a life or death situation. A situation that anyone would fight light hell to get out of even with an amazing healing factor like Logan’s.

Because he still feels pain.

He still wants to survive.

He still feels.

And at the end of it all, he feels ashamed and horrified with himself and he'll always have to live with that guilt and shame. There's a point in one of the comics when he describes his heart as being slower to heal than the rest of his body and I think its interesting because although that story he's talking more from a "heart broken" sense. I also think that can apply just as equally to idea that it also harder for him to heal from not just heart break but also from shame and guilt. In certain situations, it takes longer for him to forgive himself emotionally because he suffers physically in the short term. He’ll never have a physical scar of his wrong doing and so he carries the emotional weight of it with him.

But also because he isn't just dealing with himself. In those moments when he comes out of that rage, the people he loves are in shock and are scared because they saw the “monster” and some people do reject it and in so they reject him and although rejection is something Logan thinks he deserves, it doesn’t make that pain hurt any less. it doesn't make it any easier to heal just because you agree with them, and in a way I think that's what slows down that healing process. Logan's inability to forgive himself.

Because that's the thing, Logan, would rather be scared of himself than forgive himself, be it because of his past trauma or because of the Weapon X program (which in the Weapon X comic it’s implied if not outright stated that the scientist at Weapon X are the reason he feels the fear he does about himself). Logan is scared of no one on Earth more than the man he sees in the mirror. And that’s because in his lowest moments when he looks in the mirror he doesn't see a man, instead he sees an animal, a monster. He doesn’t need the rest of the world to tell him what he already thinks of himself, it just doesn’t help that he has a choir of voices that are sometimes louder than his own telling him his worst fear is real. He is the monster that hides under his own bed but the problem is, while the monster is 'real' is a physical sense, it does not share a soul with him anymore than the boogeyman does. He wrestles with himself. Somedays he believes he's a man like anyone else and other days he can't drown out the voices telling him he's nothing more than a monster.

And as my last touch on the beserker rage, I want to posit my own theory about it. Personally believe to some extent that it isn’t part of his natural mutation and that instead it’s something that was “given” to him by the Weapon X program. The reason I say this is because I think it would make a lot of sense that like the adimantium claws and false memories it would make sense to give you “weapon” this uncontrollable rage (that mostly comes out in times of great duress). Not just because it would be one more thing Weapon X has taken from him (control over his own emotions/body) but also because wouldn’t that just make sense on the side of the people who ran the project? That your living puppet have a fail safe of sorts in case it ran into something bigger than itself? During the Weapon X comic, the scientist are constantly surprised by how resilient he is and even though some of this surprise happens in a false memory, they really do believe they can kill him at one points so if they thought they could kill him, why not something else? Why not give their investment insurance? And what better insurance for an animal than monstrous rage.

But of course none of this is even to talk about the kind of person Logan really is. The thing that I think most people (in the comics) tend to ignore about Logan, in favor of focusing on his rough exterior (and some of his more questionable characteristics) is that he really does have a heart of gold. Now do not get me wrong, he can do some pretty fucked up shit (I will not talk about the Jean and Scott love triangle bc it gives me a migraine) but he does regularly do things that show how much empathy he has. That show that despite what he (or the rest of the world) might think, he isn’t a monster. The best examples of this are his relationships and more specifically the relationships where he’s a father/mentor. Like his relationship with Kitty Pryde and Jubilee, two kids that he basically adopts/takes under his wing and constantly goes out of his way for. Some of you might remember this post and the reason Logan does eventually fuck Wade’s shit up is because Wade literally punches the ever living shit out of Kitty in front of Logan. In another comic issue (after this), Logan beats the shit out of Wade again for punching Kitty, it’s funny but it also just goes to show that he does take protection of his family seriously. And mind you he doesn’t hunt Deadpool down, he find him by sheer plot coincidence when he’s getting a book signed for Kitty and the author just so happened to be Deadpool’s mark.

And mind you, Logan does have love for his own kids (Laura and Daken) despite the troubled nature of both this relationships but again those are a little more complicated. That’s partially for plot reasons but also because they play into just how much Logan hates himself that he struggles active show the same love for his adopted family to his “blood” family (again with Daken it’s a lot more complicated) but I also think that not only are his relationships with them fraught because of how much he hates himself but because both Laura and Daken were experimented on just and manipulated like he was (and in Daken’s case by a major player of Weapon X) so while he does love them past his own self hatred, they are also a reminder of his deepest traumas. It’s not their fault and it’s not necessarily Logan’s fault either, it’s just the cards their characters were dealt. (I haven’t read any comics with them yet so once I do I will most likely write my thoughts on his relationship with them each individually)

Regardless, Logan, depsite what he’d like you to think, is a deeply loving, empathetic and loyal person and this doesn’t just extend to people who considers family:

(Logan says this a man who not only a few issues ago was trying to kill him and his partner/friends. He saved Roughouse (the character he went berserk on a few pictures ago) because he was being experimented on in a way not too dissimilar to the way he had been by Weapon X. And if I remember correctly this is before he even knows how he got the adimantium in his bones)

He is James 'Logan' Howlett. He is a man whose life was stolen from him so many times over. He is a man who believes that the worse parts of him are all that matter and fails (or refuses) to see the good he has done in the lives of the people he cares about and believes that only death will truly bring him peace. He is someone who despite his flaws can’t help but to be kind. He is someone who fights like hell for what he believes is right. And even if he believes he’s a monster, even if the world believes he’s a monster, he will try to do the right thing because although he knows his soul is damned that doesn’t mean that exempts him from doing what good he can. He is someone who gives and good as he gets and then some. He’s the best at what he does but for him, that isn’t alway what he thinks it is.

And I think that’s the beauty of Logan as a character. Someone whose life is so wrought with tragedy and yet he is someone who can’t help but to be kind, someone who can’t help but love and care and find the humanity in the world despite the world seeming to be hellbent on taking his humanity away. Even though he (and many people in universe) might disagree with me, he is not only a one of the best humanity has to offer but he is also a shining example of the tenacity of the human spirit.

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #poolverine #james logan howlett #wolverine #I’ve been working on this one for a while so I might not post my Deadpool one until the end of the month #there are probably some things I forgot to mention but I think this is pretty good all things considered

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artslovergirl · 24 days ago

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[EXT. A CONVENIENCE STORE NEAR CAMPUS]

art and tashi

notes: based on the part in the screenplay where tashi asks art to try smoking with her because i love that scene. shoutout artashi.

wordcount: 0.8k

“You've never smoked before?” Art asked, his voice still a little hoarse from the coughing. Tashi shook her head. “No, have you?” “Yeah. But I mean, I don't think I did it right. To be honest, I don't think I’m doing it right right now, either.”

A wry chuckle escaped him. He doesn't think there’s a universe that exists where the scent of cigarettes doesn't remind him of Patrick.

But if this made Tashi feel better, it would be a bullet he’d be willing to bite.

Then again, wasn't saying that just him bathing in self-pity over a loss he caused?

Biting the bullet?

He felt ridiculous.

Especially when every time he looked at Tashi, he could hear the nauseating sound of her knee snapping out of place.

He was licking a self-inflicted wound while Tashi mourned the loss of what could be described as a piece of her soul. A piece of herself. It was visible in her eyes.

If he actually said any of this to Tashi, he’s pretty sure she’d punch him.

It would probably be warranted. Waxing poetry about the suffering of another in your head, pretending like you understood it, was pretty lame.

But he did want to understand. He did. He had found himself toiling over the scenario of whether or not he would swap places with Tashi many times. He likes to believe he would do it.

But he can't really tell if that’s just because he wanted to feel like a good person, or if he wanted to reinforce to himself how in love with Tashi Duncan he was. Or maybe how selfless he was.

Because deep down, he thinks, or maybe fears, he might actually be a really selfish person.

“When was the last time you smoked?” Tashi’s voice cuts through his string of thoughts. She took another inhale of smoke, she still coughed, but a little less now.

He wondered if she was reminded of him, too. He wondered if this was all some sorry attempt from the both of them at filling a place that stood empty now.

“Oh, like..when I was 14..uh, with..you know..” He cleared his throat, looking into the distance.

“Jesus, Art, you can say his name. You think I'm gonna burst into tears at the sound of it?” Tashi’s voice had a certain cadence to it, one that was hard to describe.

She was almost making fun of him for taking such precautions, perhaps feeling insulted he would think her to be so weak, but there was a twinge of appreciation for his effort or rather support hidden underneath it all. Barely there, but he could hear it.

He smiled.

“Right, sorry.”

She let out a puff of air, shaking her head, almost rolling her eyes, but she was smiling, “You know, you apologize a lot for things that don’t actually matter.”

His lips twitched to the side, his smile no longer reaching his eyes. It wasn't pleasant to hear, but mostly because he knew it was true.

It felt like he lived in fear of messing up the smallest things, leaving a bad impression, but what he feared even more than that was making a genuine apology.

He didn't know why. It wasn't like he didn't feel guilt. He definitely did. Punishing himself just seemed easier than dealing with the punishment that an apology might bring with.

“You're right.” He tried to take another pull of the cigarette. It burned. Not in a pleasant way, not in a bad way. Not in the way it had when he was 14. Not in the way it had with Patrick.

“For what it's worth, I am sorry. About..everything. Mostly that lunch. Mostly for..acting like I knew what you wanted. Or like I was what you needed.”

He was staring at the asphalt now, his brows furrowed a little. Somehow, apologizing now had been easier than anticipated. It only happened months ago, but it felt like years. It felt like the statute of limitations for punishment had long since gone by. It felt like none of them were the same people they were a few months ago.

Like the people that they were in that hotel room in Flushing were unrecognisable.

She let out a quiet laugh that sounded a little like a scoff. “You know what? I forgive you. What you did was shitty, like really, really shitty-”

“I know.”

“But um, yeah, you know what..I do need you. Here, right now. I need you to be my friend.”

He nodded.

I think you might be the worst friend in the world, Art.

He could feel the words echo around in his skull, reverberating like a church bell.

It could become his fatal flaw, but Art knew at that moment that he wanted to be whatever she needed him to be.

“Okay. I’m here for you.” He exhaled another haze of smoke. It burned a little less.

“Ugh, god, this tastes terrible. Smoking sucks, why do people do it?” Tashi complained, yet she didn’t stub out her cigarette. The flickering neon light of the convenience store sign reflected in her eyes.

“I don't know, I think I’m kind of getting it.” Art grinned, peering at her from the side.

#challengers #art donaldson #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #arttashi #art x tashi #tashi x art #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #ames writes~!

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zuziknux · 2 months ago

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˘⑅˖♡~*★` Yandere!Movie Shadow Headcanons `★*~♡˖⑅˘

⚠️ Trigger Warning

Sensitive Topics Like Stalking, Loss Of A Loved One, Obsessiveness And Even Murder/Violence Or Brutality!

~ ~ ~ ~

`-💥 Oh, this boy... he will lurk wherever you are and watch you, stalk you wherever you are... and you'll always feel bad from it, nervous, anxious, embarrassed, but he won't care... he'll always be there...

`-💥 Ever since what happened to Maria, he just felt... horrible from it... he felt so angry, so broken, sad, full of rage... all at once... it was overwhelming for him... he didn't knew, how to feel... and now that he found you, he is just so possessive of you, wanting to have you all to himself and protect you from the world, so nothing bad will happen to you too either. He is afraid of losing you too now, since he lost Maria... you're so sweet and dear to him like Maria was... and he doesn't want to love or care about anyone else now... just you now...

`-💥 That's why he is stalking you and always everywhere, in every, any place you are at... to look out after you, to make sure you're safe and alright, to see if you're doing well, if people treat you right... yes, you might think that sounds sweet and not just all creepy or scary, because it's all coming from love and care of course... but he doesn't realize it's actually unhealthy as well, how much he watches over you, stalks you, obsessess over you...

`-💥 Yes... he might be obsessed with you as well, not just protective and possessive... his goal is mostly and mainly, that he wants to try keep you to himself and be your protector, but you also fascinated him preeetty much... like your appearance, your looks, your pretty eyes, pretty hair, the nice way you talk, your pleasant voice... he is just fascinated as well... you've caught his eye... and you didn't even mean to...

`-💥 He does also teleport next to you and talks to you too though, not just always watching you or stalking you all the time... of course he wants to keep you company as well... but... you still feel a little weird and creeped out someone dark like him is obsessive, possessive and protective of you...

”Get used to this, dear Y/N. I'll be doing this more often... to look out for you... to protect you...” – Shadow

`-💥 Even when he is talking in that calm, polite manner, of course you can't help but still feel a bit intimidated by his nature and feelings towards you...

`-💥 Speaking of "looking out for you", he might have that cool, cold aura most of the time to hide his dark, mad feelings towards you, so he won't scare you any further, but when someone hurts you, irritates you or bothers you in anyway... oh dear... you don't wanna see him... it might be even worse than with Knuckles...

`-💥 He is so angry, furious, full of rage, when you tell him or when he just finds out someone is making you feel bad that he just wants to even... do something bad to them... like... beat them up, break their fist or bones... maybe even kill them...

`-💥 He won't care, how you feel, if he goes brutal with your enemy, rival or simply a bully. He wants and will take revenge on them... for you...

`-💥 He does care for you, but believing in himself as The Ultimate Lifeform, he can't help but sometimes feel and be cocky and act all superior about it in front of you and maybe even a bit self-centered about it, thinking and feeling he is the most important for you, wanting to kind of... amaze you, impress you... wanting everyone to know you're his and only he can do that to you...

#sonic #sonic 3 #sonic movie #sonic movie 3 #sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie universe #shadow #shadow the hedgehog #movie shadow #sonic headcanons #headcanons #yandere #yandere headcanons

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overmystars · 2 months ago

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My first time playing Until Dawn I was 100% certain that in episode 7 Emily would stumble across Jess and the girlies would have to survive the mines together, while working through some tough feelings... ...or they'd argue so loud that they'd be found within 5 minutes! ahh, player choice!

(long) rambles on this concept below!

UGHHH JUST IMAGINE, IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO COOL!!! Okay okay so you find Jess, and ofc we can all imagine how that initial surprise would go. I named this piece "oh girl you're joking" ...so. (/silly)

The choices here intrigue me so much!! Instead of a lot of silent roaming around, this section would be very choice-heavy. Their immediate reaction to each other is "why of all people is it you I found down here". You'd get the option to either complain or question to start off with. Complaining...

Emily: God, as if my night wasn't already shitty enough! I can't believe, out of everyone, I ran into the useless whore. Jess: Ohh, you're one to talk, bitch. Y-you think you've had a shitty night? ...You've- you've got a smudge of blood on your cheek. Look at me! You're seriously complaining right now!? You petty asshole...

From here your options will be to either continue pushing and elevating things, or, with the right choices made, begin to actually talk to each other.

If you keep making them fight, eventually they'll get into a full on screaming match. Jess looks like she's about to topple over from how much energy it's taking just to stay conscious with her wounds and be this outraged. Going this route will alert Handigo to all the commotion, who'll show up early and probably definitely kill at least Jess, if not Emily too (maybe qte section there...)

If you go the other route, and aren't so completely hostile.....

Emily: Holy shit... ...What the fuck happened to you? Jess: ...

Maybe you'd have to prompt a few times, and the "silent treatment" is kinda what can prompt Emily to start accusing. I think Jess would be in much more of a quiet daze in this direction, since she isn't immediately being verbally attacked.

Your options would be "annoyed" or "uneasy" Annoyed will have Em like, snapping her fingers, waving in Jess' face, being a jerk. Uneasy will have Em gently shake Jess' shoulder.

Jess: Some kind... ...monster... Emily: God, Jess, speak up I can't- Jess: There's something- there's this- cre-creature and... it... it had me...

Naturally even if you do start off questioning and gentler, there is still plenty of opportunities to start fighting. Should they only begin arguing later, Handigo can still show up but won't immediately be on top of them. Then, of course, there will be don't moves and qtes... and a handful of opportunities to abandon Jess 🤭 however, if you make all the right choices while escaping and are fast enough, it is possible to get both girls to safety. They'll still fucking hate each other though lol

Ideally, the conversation will be kept mostly (uncomfortably) civil... enough to where they don't stop in their tracks to argue. It won't be pleasant but it isn't a dispute. They can move on together and, granted things aren't openly hostile between the two, they can start to talk. Side note but I kind of love the idea of Jess being the one to initiate this, especially if she's more reserved and quiet going this route.

Jess: ...Em? Emily: What. Jess: I um, ...Thank you for taking me with you. Emily: *scoff* Well, you might think I'm heartless, but I'm not going to leave you to die down here. Jess: I don't think you're heartless. ...Do you think- Emily: -That you're heartless. I've thought that before, yeah. Jess: I... I really do like Mike. Emily: That's just great, Jess. Are we doing this now, really? Jess: Well, I just-... Emily: What about me? Mike was my man. ...And you were, supposedly, my friend. Jess: I was your friend... Emily: You fooled me.

They've stopped walking by now, and are facing each other. From this point there are still a few choices to be made that can make the conversation escalate again. Emily can choose to get angry here, but in a heartbroken, agonized way. Choices are "accuse" and "listen" Accusing has different dialogue to before where she's yelling about betrayal and what she thought they had now that Jess has begun picking the scab.

Handigo shows up again and starts the don't move and qte section from the previous path I went over, but it's much shorter as they've walked further at this point. Emily has only one chance to abandon Jess this time, compared to the multiple instances before.

If it continues, this time with "listen", then Jess airs all her reasons out. She's sorry this happened. She misses Emily. She wasn't thinking, or she convinced herself this was what she deserved but she sees now it wasn't- I don't have any headcanons on why this happened. I'll leave it to you to fill in those blanks how you'd like :)

But yes, this raises their relationship, just a little, and they get by without ever seeing Handigo. I guess Jack finds them at the end of their section and that can continue similarly... with these choices, Emily returns to the lodge with Jess. In the best possible outcome, where the spark to rebuild what they had is there.

Let's hope they both survive the rest of the night so they can do that. It would be so horribly sad for them to go through that and then never reach any further because one or both don't survive until dawn.

Imagine Jess there when Mike and Emily start the confrontation over the bite!! Aaaaa, and depending on what you chose in the previous episode, Jess can step in to defend or just remain silent. So much comes from this! I LOVE IT!! There are so many gaps to fill in. SO much to consider with Jess present in this way. So so so good

Thanks for reading, if you did!! I had SO many thoughts while I worked on this piece, and I would absolutely love hearing anything you have to add!! I would love to answer any questions or have discussions if you're interested! dms (should be) open, and my ask box too! Give me more ideas for alternate scenarios like this to draw! 👀

#until dawn #my art #jessica riley #emily davis #until dawn headcanons #until dawn fanart #tw blood #tw bruising #tw injury

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jiminiecrickets · 1 year ago

Text

jeon jungkook ♡ series masterlist

wc. 2k

tags. smut | dom top!m!reader, in an alleyway, exhibitionism + getting caught, jealousy, rough sex, biting, crying

thursdays at a nightclub – most would expect a half-alive sort of creature, mostly empty and a little dull. but the nights never sleep and neither do its people, and the building is warm with electric bodies and the sweet, heady scent of spilt alcohol.

jungkook squeezes out of the crowd on the dance floor, releasing a lungful of thick air as he meanders towards the bar. he'd lost you a few minutes ago, and nothing was as fun as grinding on his boyfriend in a dark room full of strangers. he takes a seat and orders a drink.

not a second later, a presence slides up behind him. "what's a looker like you doin' all alone?"

his welcoming smile vanishes. that's not you. he glances over his shoulder at the young man, who looks so generically attractive that jungkook feels as if he's an instagram filter become reality.

he turns away, disinterested. he scans the crowds. "i'm not alone. here with my boyfriend."

"really? where?"

there's a grating smugness to his words. he's probably never had anyone say no to him before. "we got separated. this place is pretty big."

the guy hums, leaning against the bar next to jungkook. "that's true. he probably won't find you for ten minutes, maybe more. not thinking of spending all that time sittin' alone at the bar with just a whiskey to warm you, are you?"

"i am, actually."

"well, maybe i could interest you in something else," he suggests, "to pass the time."

jungkook lifts the glass to his lips, throwing it back. he hisses at the pleasant burn. "yeah, no. i'd rather watch paint dry."

"oh, i'm not that bad," he jests. his fingers slide over jungkook's bicep, gorgeously accentuated by the neckline of his black racerback tank. it's fitted and cropped – he did it himself – and shows off his tight stomach and defined apollo's belt. "you wouldn't even have to look at me, y'know. those hands of yours would make a nice necklace, don't you think?"

he glances down at his many silver rings and bracelets. "oh. oh. uh, i don't think you're reading me right. um, i don't swing that way."

the man's brows furrow. "what? you said you had a boyfriend."

"i do." jungkook clears his throat, carefully sliding off of the barstool. the other man's eyes follow him up; jungkook has a few inches over him. "i, uh..."

"there you are, baby. thought i'd never see your face again."

jungkook positively lights up at the sound of your voice, smooth and pleasant. it's the kind of voice that cuts through boardroom chatter like a hot knife through butter, carrying with it a natural, easy assertiveness that ceos wish they had.

"hyung," he coos, giggling as you drape an arm over his shoulder and tangle that hand in his long, messy curls, tugging slightly to press your lips to his cheek. he lets you move him around like a doll, grinning up at you adoringly. "hi."

"hi," you reply, amused. your eyes flicker over to the other man, whose face is slowly turning red. your eyes narrow slightly. "sorry, i don't think we've met. i'll be stealing him for a minute."

you're usually so polite – but this time, you didn't even add an 'if you don't mind' to that second sentence. jungkook nibbles on his lower lip. are you angry? are you angry at him?

"hyung?" he asks when you lead him outside into the alley, the cool breeze soothing his hot skin. "what's up?"

you turn on him. his eyes widen. "he was flirting with you, wasn't he?"

"what?" he fumbles. "w-well, i mean, yeah, but you know i wasn't gonna do anything if that's what you're worried about—"

"i don't care about that." something in the back of jungkook's mind swoons at the knowledge that you're so secure in his affections for you that it doesn't bother you in the slightest. you lean in, pressing a hand against the rough brick wall and pinning him in. his heart begins to race. "i care that he thought you were available. all this skin you're showing and not a single mark defining you as mine?" a slight growl marks that last word. jungkook gasps softly. "we'll have to fix that."

"now?" jungkook stammers, glancing around. the alley's dark, and the streets on either side are mostly quiet. a few haggard-looking youths stumble by every so often. "but what if someone sees? my dignity, hyung, you're gonna rip it to shreds."

"i'm 'gonna'?" you lift a brow, eyes glittering. "you sound as if you want this."

he swallows. "i – i do, i always do, but i don't want anyone getting an eyeful of my ass..." he hooks his fingers through your belt loops. "that's just for you, hyung-ah."

you hum, leaning in. you press your lips against his and he moans softly, tugging your hips flush against his. "that's right, baby. you're just for me. all this..." you squeeze his ass roughly over his black cargo pants and he whimpers out a moan, arching his spine into your touch. "all mine. why?"

"'cause you fuck me the best," he gasps, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as your hot kisses travel down his jaw and collar. his cock stirs. "you fuck me so well, baby. i could never want anyone else when i have you. i belong to you – hey!"

you yank his teasingly tight pants down over his thighs, pinning him in place easily with your own body. he's already half-hard – has been for the last hour in the club – and you hum appreciatively, gently turning him over. he obliges, arching his spine as he gazes watchfully over his shoulder, pink lips parted and palms pressed against the wall.

your hand runs over the tight silver-ringed harness that cradles his chest and shoulders and emphasises his tiny little waist. you nearly growl at the sight, nails digging into his skin.

he presses his ass into the front of your pants, round eyes sparkling with anticipation. "you're being so rough," he breathes as you nip at his neck just below his ear, tugging the fitted neck of his top down to reveal more of him. "did that really touch something tender? ah!"

he jerks as your teeth clip his soft skin, indenting the shape of your teeth as a red bruise. his heartbeat thuds faster as your palms glide over the mounds of his chest, perfectly sculpted by his tight shirt and harness, and dance over his cock to stroke his sensitive inner thighs. they tense under your touch.

he's wearing a pair of tiny black jocks with a rainbow elastic that cups his ass. you stifle a laugh, trying not to break character.

"what?" he mumbles, blushing. "shut the fuck up. they're cute."

"oh, i agree." you give them a light smack and he moans sharply at the impact. "wonder what that guy would think if he saw you in these – if he saw how pretty you are, spreading your legs for me..." one hand strokes his taut stomach, passing below his hips to cup the cute bubble in his jocks. he whines softly as you squeeze. "be a good boy and keep quiet for me, yeah?"

he nods feebly, gnawing on his lower lip. you've barely done anything and yet he already feels ragged, his skin scorching and tight.

something hot and thick prods his asshole. he slaps a hand over his mouth as you snap your hips forward, burying yourself so deep in him that he sees stars, the burning stretch achingly good. "mmph—!"

you hush him softly, holding him steady as he trembles in your arms. the hot weight of your body pinning his into the rough, cold alley wall is almost mind-numbing. "that's my good boy... halfway there. my good boy takes cock so well, doesn't he?"

whining softly, he nods fiercely, gasping out a shaky moan as you press your hips tight against his ass. "mhm, mhm, i do – ah! you're just s-so big, 'm close, so close—"

"already?" your hips smack quick and rough against his ass, the lube making things wet and messy. he shoves his hand between his teeth and claws at the wall, the thick head of your cock grinding into his prostate and gliding against it with each thrust. "i just put it in, baby."

"s-sorry," he squeaks, his breathing haggard as his eyes dart between the ends of the alleyway. the headlights of a car rumble by and he clenches around you, eliciting a deep groan that rattles his spine and echoes in his head. "s-someone's gonna see – fuck, right there – h-hyung, they're gonna see—!"

"they will if you keep squealing your pretty head off," you grunt, gaze trained on the join between your bodies. his ass ripples, bouncing off of your hips with wet smacks, and arousal flames through your veins. you grab his wrists and pin them to the wall beside his head. "but you're so much tighter than usual – s'almost hard to fuck ya," you chuckle breathlessly. "you like this, don't you, my good boy? do you want someone to see the way you're crying on my cock?"

tears prick his eyes. you're right. his heart threatens to pound out of his ribs. he sniffles, moans high and airy. "n-no, i don't, 'm your good boy – please, sir, s-slow down—!"

his hips snap forward with a sharp cry as your cock slams into his guts. his vision whites out and his head spins, his body hot and sweaty even in the cool night, and he melts.

he arches his spine, throwing himself roughly back onto your cock and babbling for more. his hair bounces quickly, sticking to his temples, and his thighs shake violently as he comes into his jocks, sniffling and whimpering with hot tears streaking down his cheeks.

he's so messy. so embarrassed. he's acting like a slut. he squeezes his eyes shut and gulps back his loud moans, turning them into gasped whines and heavy pants as your dick scrapes his insides so wonderfully, filling him up like no one else ever could.

"sir – hyung," he babbles, melting into your hot kisses a little more with each harsh thrust, "hyung, hyung! please—!"

in the alleyway, the indent of the doorway you're hiding yourself in swings open. a familiar sleek face greets you, a cigarette between the lips.

it falls to the ground.

you yank jungkook's hips back onto your cock and he squeals, whimpering in shock and embarrassment as you fill him up right then and there. his huge, teary eyes stare back at you, his shaky hands pushing meekly at your stomach in an effort to get you to pull out, but you just step closer, forcing his body still as cum drips down his inner thigh from his jockstrap.

you tilt your head at the man who once, not too long ago, threw himself at jungkook, expecting to walk away in the morning with a satisfying ache between his legs. a tug on jungkook's long hair reveals the collar of dark, bruising hickeys littering his neck and shoulders.

jungkook moans your name, exhausted, and slumps against the wall, his hands trembling as he tries to steady himself against the cold bricks. you give one final thrust and jungkook keens, practically collapsing into your arms as his knees buckle.

you turn away from the stranger at last, dropping a chaste kiss to the nape of jungkook's neck. he shivers and whines softly, gripping your hips for dear life. you're the only thing keeping him from crumpling to the ground like a stringless marionette.

rapid footsteps. the door slams shut. you hush jungkook, nibbling another hickey into his flushed skin as you slide his pants over his ass.

"such a good boy," you whisper, wiping his tears away with the pad of your thumb. "my good boy, isn't that right?"

after a minute, he nods once, sucking in lungfuls of air as his head gradually clears of the thick fog. he leans back against you, tucking his warm face into the crook of your neck. your arms wrap securely around his waist. "yeah," he whispers vacantly, the tingle of pleasure still zinging through his nerves. "'m hyung's good boy... his..."

he's so cute like this, you think as you stroke his cheek and press a lingering kiss to his bitten lips. walking out of the alley, he grips your hand as if he'll die otherwise, but he decides that it's not close enough and hooks his arm over your shoulder, keeping yours around his bare waist. you help him keep steady on his shaking legs. his rosary of dark hickeys is a public announcement: he is yours, and you are his.

#top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #bts x male reader #dom reader #top reader #bottom bts #bottom jungkook #jungkook x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut

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ghouljams · 7 days ago

Note

Hi I’m a lesbian and I love your fics. I also love learning from your sex ed posts even though most don’t really apply to me. Feel free to ignore this if you don’t want to answer, but I’m an anxious virgin and I really want to eat a girl out. How do I do it? There’s a lot of dick appreciation and education on this blog but not enough pussy I fear😔

Any tips? How does it feel? Both giving and receiving?

Yeah of course!!

So I'll start with receiving for no reason other than I gotta think about it really hard. As I've mentioned before there was a long period of time where receiving didn't do much for me so take this with a grain of salt. It feels sort of like a wet flat finger(but softer than a finger like more malleable) moving over your pussy. Different parts feel different(for me at least) and it feels very different from touching yourself, mostly because you can't feel the sensation anywhere other than your pussy. So tongue on the labia feels like wet touching, with a little bit of drag and pressure. Tongue on your clit feels sort of like a flicking, rolling sensation depending on what's happening, mostly you'll just feel the nice sparky stimulation more than the actual touch but there's also a little bit of suction that sort of tugs the tiniest bit when their mouth is on your clit. Tongue over/around your entrance feels again sort of like a really focused but gentle finger, it's really hot(temperature) because it's another person's mouth and wet but not unpleasant. I think what people tend to forget is that you also have a head down there and your legs are gonna want to squeeze it, which feels kind of like squeezing a really hard watermelon. With partners who shave you can get this prickly burn that's not entirely pleasant but doesn't really linger.

Giving... oh giving feels very fun under your tongue, lots of different folds and sometimes your partner has longer labia that you can sorta wiggle against your tongue. It feels like skin but wet and HOT, and a little spongy? If that makes sense, like firm skin but still with some give. Idk all vaginas are different and beautiful. Depending on if the person shaves you're gonna want to sorta part the labia to give yourself the best access, but just licking it feels sort of like licking, well, hair. Not bad, but eh it's not everyone's thing, sort of coarse and doesn't stick to your tongue like head hair does. The clit is fun cuz it's sorta hard under your tongue when it gets erect, and you can sort of flick it around with the tip of your tongue, or push your tongue up under the hood if your partner's clit is a lil shy. Tastes sort of musky but mostly like water if they're taking care of themselves, can get a bit bitter if the honey isn't eating right but idk I don't find it unpleasant. Pushing your tongue into pussy is kinda like shoving it into a tube, there's a little kinda ridged area that you wanna aim for cuz right behind that is the spot, but also just feels kinda nice on the tongue. They're gonna tighten up on you though and it's gonna feel weird, cuz nothings ever squeezed ur tongue like that before, but it's also kinda like if you're making out and your partner sucks on your tongue. Idk other pussy eaters can correct me on that, I'm just trying to make some semblance of a connection.

Man it's hard describing sex because it feels a lot like what it is. Hope this was coherent

#ghoul speaks #sex ed stuff #glad youre enjoying it #maybe i should wrote something for the toxic fae yuri #threat and crybaby

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acewoo · 1 year ago

Text

＊ Bad Decisions

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Reader

Summary: Both you and Geto are in the student council and have been paired together to work on an important event plan. Although things started off rocky you somehow find yourself quite literally underneath him.

Content: NSFW, fluff, AFAB, slight enemies to lovers, teasing, praising, degrading, dom Geto, unprotected sex, fingering, sexual tension, slight mentions of depression and abandonment, flirting, smut.

Word count: 7.1k

a/n: this took wayyyyyy longer than I thought it would take lol. Anyways I tried shortening this a bit so if some pieces seemed rush I apologize :v

Suguru Geto is a student council member, a star student, an amazing athlete, and your worst nightmare. Similar to Geto you were on the student council which consisted of 12 members. The student council was looked up to by the rest of the school, and heavily respected. There wasn't anyone who was a considerably bad person to be a part of it- except for Suguru Geto.

“Hey Y/N how are you doing?” your eyes dart up to see Geto’s soft pure smile. How nice of him to check up on you. He was polite and anyone else in the room wouldn't see the act as sinister. There had been a few times people had mistaken you for being close friends because of how friendly you were with each other. But, they don’t see him like you do. You respond to his gesture by giving an annoyed pout and then smiling. “I’m well Geto, just a bit annoyed.” he raises an eyebrow keeping his pleasant demeanor. “Oh? And why might that be?” you could hear the mockery in his voice. Nevertheless, you stood your ground. “Just some social issues with someone, you know how it is.” He nodded, giving a small chuckle. “Yes, I do… Well, I hope you can sort things out then Y/N since you're already going through so much.” you just nod without giving any verbal reply. He started to head out of the classroom but, before fully leaving he looked back at you. “And see you later.”

What an insufferable bastard. You pack up your belongings not wanting to even acknowledge the last comment he made. The student council meeting was later today, which you weren't exactly thrilled to attend because of a certain someone. Your dislike for him has always been this way though. Since freshman year everything about him pissed you off. Was he smart, sure but a total asshole. He’d come off so polite and kind. You could see right through it though. His politeness. Just a way to mask his mockery and selfish intent. It was obvious he thought less of most people, it was obvious he’d be kind only to further progress himself. You swore to that, but couldn’t tell anyone how you saw through because, well how could others believe you? So, you kept silent harboring your disliking to him.

Similar to yourself, Geto saw right through you. He knew you hated him. He saw the way it looked like you were holding back punching him every time he spoke. He saw the way you would so sweetly decline any event that he’d be an important piece too. Most importantly he saw the way you saw him, and it amused him. Geto indeed finds many of his peers to be lesser or monkey-like, but not you. You were interesting. Sure you might not have been the first one to see through him but, you were the first to play the same game as him, with him. Even if it wasn’t fully by choice. The fact you both were in the student council this year too was like a blessing from god himself. Giving him the perfect opportunity to mess with you as much as he wanted. And if you or anyone else questioned it. Well, he was just trying to get closer with a fellow student council member!

The meeting was nothing special, mostly. It was more or less the casual rundown and discussions. Until it wasn’t. See near the end of the meeting, the club advisor- your principal. Had asked that Geto and you stay after everyone left because she needed to discuss something with the two of you. Your immediate thought is, why him?

“Thank you, guys, for staying, I have something I’d like to have your help with.” She paused as she leaned forward in her chair. Suguru had the same demeanor as usual. You did too, well mostly, you were slightly anxious but it was manageable your knee was bobbing up and down making small tapping noises anytime your heel touched the floor. “See, our school will be hosting this event on the 31st and we need help with planning it… it’ll have many scouts here and important people attending. With this I’ve selected the two of you to plan and coordinate the event.” the smile that was painted on your face drops.

“With all due respect Ma’am I’m thankful for this opportunity but… Wouldn’t it be more beneficial if all twelve members of the student council helped with this event rather than two?” You said trying to stay polite. She nodded before responding. “Sadly not, considering the time we have it simply would be too hard to try to plan an event with that many people involved. Alongside that based on previous events hosted by the student council, it tends to be you or Mr. Geto who takes the lead on these projects, it’d be best.” You weren’t sure how to exactly argue against that. Before you could get another point in anyways Geto speaks up. “I think it’s a lovely opportunity, ma’am, Y/N and I would be honored to plan this event together.” both heads turned to you and you hesitantly nodded. “Agreed… We’ll start working right away Ma’am.” They both smile and the two of you are dismissed.

Once you guys got decently far from the meeting room you pulled Geto to the side and snapped. “Are you serious?! ‘Y/N and I would be honored’ Why the hell would I ever want to work with you!” Geto was slightly shocked by your outburst but, he chuckled, he fucking chuckled. He then shrugged and replied. “I’m sorry Y/N I don’t understand what you're trying to say. Did I do something wrong?” he didn’t even try to hide the enjoyment in his voice. He loved seeing you get so upset. It was a rare sight, like finding diamonds in the dirt. Of course, he had to appreciate this moment the most he could. Your jaw was tightened as you spat out. “Look, I don’t know what bullshit you're planning to do for this or with me but, I want none of it. If I’m working with you I am not going to deal with your-” he sighed and waved off your concerns. “Don’t worry yourself with that Princess, I'm not planning anything.” You were about to comment on his sudden use of a pet name but he beat you to it, handing you his phone. “We’re going to need to stay in touch.” You give him your number and quickly leave, not wanting to be in his presence any longer.

That evening you were in your room laying in bed petting your cat and doing basically nothing. Your parents were out on business and wouldn't be here for two weeks. so, the whole house was yours. As you were lying in bed you received a text from an unknown number.

+810203271224

Wyd?

You paused and remembered you had given Geto your number.

You

Doesn't concern you

What do you want Geto

+810203271224

Was js checking up

But by that answer, I suppose ur not busy

You don’t respond by figuring out what to type. As you started to type out a come back he sent another message.

+810203271224

Can I come over

To work on the event planning

You

I mean we don’t need to do it today

+810203271224

But ur not busy

And I'm not busy

Working now would be for both our benefit

And really you couldn't disagree with him. So you agree. Now it was just a wait-and-see game for when he would arrive. With that time you tried to tidy up a bit so your room wasn’t a complete mess.

Knock Knock Knock. You open the door not looking through it since you knew it was Geto. He shut the door behind him and slipped off his shoes. “Your place is nice” His voice was, well how would you describe it? He was Geto but something sounded softer? Just, something was different. You sit down on the couch and look over in his direction. His hair was down, and it was long. In full honesty he’d never have his hair down in school; always having it in some kind of bun. His hair down framed his face perfectly. You must have been staring because Geto spoke again. “You're acting like you’ve never seen me before Y/N” “I just never saw you with your hair down that’s all” you spoke embarrassed as he sat on the other side of the couch. “It’s nice,” you mumble, not sure if you're speaking to him or yourself. He turned to you “That gets a compliment from you? I need to start wearing my hair down more than.” you rolled your eyes before opening your laptop. “Yeah yeah, forget it, we need to start working on this, the sooner we finish the better.”

Working with Geto was weirdly pleasant. He gave good input, he was easy-going, and overall a productive person. Right now he was typing away on the laptop trying to budget. You wait by watching him type away. His hands were nice- not that it mattered. Why were you even paying attention to that, hell why were you not completely hating his presence right now? You get up to get some water. The cold water traveling down your throat helped you regain some sense of logic. Suguru Geto is not a nice guy. Remember that. He comes off nice, and just because you're not in school, it doesn’t change anything. Remember he’s just doing this to get something from you. Geto Suguru is not your friend.

It’s 11 pm now and Geto finally leaves. He’s slipping his shoes on as he’s talking to you. “Later, Y/N have a good night.” and just like that he was gone. That was good. Now you can finally go to sleep, after all you have school tomorrow so, it’s better not to waste the night.

“I just don’t get it,” Gojo groaned over the phone. Suguru and Satoru told each other everything, so of course, after Geto came back from his little session with you he told Gojo all about it. Gojo didn’t get Geto’s fascination with you “Get what?” “Your obsession with her I mean she had a nice ass but-” Suguru cut him off before he could finish. “She’s fun to mess with. Most people don’t know how to see me but, in her case, she saw right through me. On top of that, she hasn’t done anything about it other than make a few comments. I suppose I just want to see how far I could push her.” In response, Satoru rolls his eyes. “I get it you have a crush on a nerd girl good for you man.” Geto scoffs “Not a crush, and you know it Satoru.” Satoru doesn’t respond and they quickly change the topic. Both of them blabbering on till early morning.

the next day

You were in class utterly bored, who wouldn’t be? Your teacher was on some lecture about ecosystems' energy flow or something of that sort. Thankfully, this was your last class so you could finally relax a bit. You were looking forward to it. Keyword, were. Until a notification showed up on your phone.

Geto 🖕

What class u in?

You were utterly bored, so you gave in.

You

AP bio y

Geto 🖕

Wanna skip:v

You

Yeah no

Geto 🖕

It’s the last period ur gonna be fine

Besides ur such a goody two shoes no teacher will care if ur gone for a period

You contemplated. And knew you were going to regret your decision.

You

Wya?

Geto 🖕

Meet me outside

And so you did. It wasn’t hard to leave even with your stuff. Teachers don’t ask questions, especially for students like you. “You actually did it. I'm shocked, I didn't think you had it in you.” Geto was leaning up against the side of the building. Two others next to him, which you recognized instantly. To his left, a man just as tall as himself stood with white fluffy hair and circular sunglasses. Satoru Gojo, you didn’t have anything against him but he had a certain reputation… Popular varsity basketball player, of course, but that wasn’t the only thing he played, to say the least. A bit farther strayed from the group was Shoko, the most tolerable out of the three. She was one of the few openly queer people at your school and was much more laid back than most. You had talked to her a few times since she was also on the council but, outside that you didn’t talk much. “Suguru, you didn’t tell me you were bringing anyone else,” Gojo spoke, making you completely forget about the first comment made by Geto. Shoko then interjected herself “Hey I don’t mind having another girl along.” Gojo scoffed but didn't speak further.

“So like what now Geto,” you say less than amused, already regretting your choice. “We’re just going to walk around the city, maybe do some shopping.” they were already walking off, with you and Shoko in the back. Shopping didn’t sound bad but, you didn’t have any money on you. You flushed in embarrassment and told the group. “Oh, I’ll sit this one out. I don't have any money on me so…” Gojo was about to say something but Geto spoke first. “Don’t bother I’ll pay for you Y/N”

Now most people, such as Gojo, would be confused about why Geto offered to pay, especially since you weren’t exactly close to one another. But, to Geto, it was a perfect idea. Geto knew you would protest and spout on with nonsense about how you’d never let a guy like him pay for you. He also knew you would eventually give in. That’s just how you were. As you eventually did give in, Gojo whispered to Geto. “Not a crush my ass- why else are you inviting her out with us” Geto cut Gojo off waving off his concern. “Satoru I’ve told you before why, it’s just like that, nothing more,” Gojo spoke under his breath before the group started conversing with one another. You didn’t speak much. Only speaking when spoken to. By now you guys had decided to head to the mall and it wasn’t exactly the worst scenario to be in. Were you with the man you couldn’t stand, yes, but was he also paying for whatever you wanted, and have not terrible

friends (well Shoko, maybe not Gojo) to hang out with? Also yes.

“So, Y/N you and Suguru” You and Shoko had decided to get some food while the two boys went to do something. And now Shoko was curious about you more specifically your relationship with Suguru so, of course, it was her first idea for a conversation starter. “It’s nothing, he’s just an asshole.” Shoko hums “So, why accept his invitation in the first place?” you hum leaning back in your seat. “Well, yes I don’t like him. I do have to deal with him because of his involvement in the student council. Sure I’d like to avoid him as much as possible but, hell I’m bored and he didn’t have any clear ill intent other than irritating the shit out of me.” Shoko laughs and you take a bite out of your food. “Geez you sure are like him Y/N” You point your food at her and yell at her in a lighthearted manner. “Don’t you ever compare me to that man. I don't even know where you’d get that idea from Shoko.” Your response just made Shoko laugh more. “Hey, don’t take offense to it, I don’t mean it in a bad way, it's just the way the two of you excuse things.” Shoko paused “Look just forget I said anything” and you do. You knew Shoko meant no harm and you didn’t take offense to it. (well maybe some.) It wasn’t long before Gojo and Geto came back.

“Heyyy looks like you’re having fun Shoko, talk about anything interesting?” Geto laughs putting his hand on Satoru’s shoulder. “Now Satoru, it’s not very polite to ask a lady about her private affairs.” Gojo scoffs, making some comment to Geto you can’t make out. It doesn’t matter anyway you and Shoko were done eating so, it was perfect timing. Plus you didn’t want to talk with her any longer anyway (Well more that you don't want to talk about Geto any longer.) It had been a while since you’d been to this mall so a flood of memories had come back to you. It was nice. Geto interrupted your train of thought though when he tapped you on your shoulder. “Any stores you want to go to?” you thought about it. Your first thought was to go get anything you needed but, at the moment you were well off. So, you figure a clothing store wouldn’t hurt. “M’ not sure… I mean a clothing store would be nice. Nothing fancy I mean just-” Geto nods and guides you guys through the mall. Gojo was complaining to Shoko since he’s been demoted (You now walk where Gojo was previously.) Shoko got him to shut up by telling him some random gossip.

Visvim Focused was the store Geto took you to. Not by any means low-end. Did you know Geto was well off? Yeah a bit, he didn’t clearly show it off like Gojo did, wearing designer brands any day of the week. But, you’d notice the small things. Like the watch, he was wearing it back at your place. But, that’s beside the point. You began browsing through the lines of clothes trying to figure out what you’d want to try on. Having difficulty deciding Shoko chimes in. “You lost?” You sigh, shaking your head. “I just don’t think any of this will look good on me yah know.” Shoko hummed as she looked through with you, she gave you a few picks you were hesitant about but tried out of politeness. While you started to go through them together Gojo and Geto were doing their own thing. (Gojo forced Geto to watch him try on 100 different outfits.) While you were trying on a certain dress and as you were about to step out the two boys had finished up and made their way over to Shoko. You stepped out unaware they had come over and the first thing you see well hear is Gojo doing a dog whistle. Your face flushes and you mumble to Shoko. “I don’t know Sho I don’t wear stuff like this yah know…” Shoko wraps her arm around you “Awe come on Y/N you look great wouldn’t you agree Suguru.” Your eyes darted to Geto, slightly nervous mainly because you were sure that he’d make some comment to try to upset you. What he did though rather surprised you. “I think you should get it, it looks nice on you.” He had a soft smile. It felt weird. You went back into the dressing room and took a breather. “It looks nice on you.” he was always nice to you but this was different. It didn’t have anything laced in it. That’s what was probably pissing you off the most. This whole trip he’s just been nice.

You’ve been staring at the dress for an hour now with only one question in mind. Why? He spent over 137.000 yen on you and didn’t even hint at an alternative motive. It pissed you off. Like a lot. Suguru Geto the person you had labeled to be the worst fucking asshole on the planet, was being nice, to you. The person who would constantly take any chance he got to get under your skin, was just treating you like a friend. You wanted to scream, so you did. In your pillow. As you were busy doing that a text hand came through your phone.

Geto 🖕

Not today but

When would you want to meet to work on the planning again

He waited for a response tapping his finger against the armrest of the couch he sat on. “What’s got you all antsy Suguru?” Shoko asked as she took a drag from her cigar. “It’s nothing Shoko.” Shoko laughed “That’s what's got you like this, Nothing? Here I thought you were a good liar.” Leaning back she continued. “Ooo let me guess it Y/N, come on it’s gotta be. What’s up with you guys anyways?” Geto laughed and similar to you waved off her interest, the only difference was Geto found her asking much more amusing than you had. “It’s nothing that you're thinking about, it’s just fun to mess with her. She’s such an interesting girl I can’t help but poke fun. You know how I am.” Shoko and Geto stayed talking to one another for a while. In that time you finally realize you had gotten a text. After your small childish fit (thirty minutes) you rolled over to open your phone. And low and behold the first notification on your screen was none other than those texts.

You

We can do Wednesday

Tmr I'm busy working on finals

Geto 🖕

Cool

See u then

He had responded almost instantly but then had gone silent. Not feeling like thinking about him any longer, you decided to head to bed and worry about dealing with him on Wednesday. You had gotten the dress Geto got you off your bed and put it in the very back of the closet. To not be seen by anyone. You didn’t want to see it, seeing it made you more confused than you were.

The next day went by fairly fast with nothing eventful happening at school. And when you got home you made yourself some instant ramen and began to study. It wasn’t anything special just like the rest of the day, it was calm. After studying you lay in bed scrolling through your phone. A notification had rung up from Shoko whom you gave your number to the other day.

Shoko

Hey hey

You

Ello Sho

Anything u need?

Shoko

Nothing of that sort

Js wanted to see how you are 😉

You

I’m good

Hbu?

Shoko

I’m good

You guys went back and forth for around an hour before you stopped texting back because you needed to sleep. Shoko was easy to talk to, and enjoyable to talk to (unlike Geto.) And this routine had gone on for the next week. You and Shoko had grown close. As for Geto, you guys met up that one time but, since then you both have been busy. Well by busy you magically kept having things popping up for you (excuses) so you couldn’t see Geto. And for that week Geto didn’t push too much. For that week… Once the two-week mark hit he hadn’t exactly been as easygoing as the previous week.

On this particular day, Geto had pulled you aside after a student council meeting. “Look Y/N, I was fine with this little cat-and-mouse game for a bit. But, it's over, and stop with the excuses.” While Geto found it amusing that you'd tried to ignore him for a bit, he also couldn’t pinpoint why you were doing this. He’s well aware you didn’t like him but, the first few meetings the two of you had went pretty smoothly which is why he was confused about what had changed. (Not that he was worried or anything but, the game would get boring if it kept going this way.) You stood there for a minute not saying anything. You then mumble, “We can meet tonight.” Geto was sure he was seeing you wrong because you looked like you had blush on your face? No, it was probably you getting upset at him, that's all.

After he left you went straight home and slammed your door, you were pissed. Not at him, well at him, it was complicated. See you were upset because you had come to a realization that was weirdly painful to admit, Geto was just as human as you. And yeah you knew that but you didn’t know that. And the craziest part of this, you were spiraling over one comment he made. One scene. It pissed you off, he pissed you off.

Around a week ago

“Yes, I think it’d be better if we did this setup for the music rather than that…” Working with Geto was going as smoothly as the last few times. It was nice, it was nice he wasn’t giving you trouble. At this rate, you guys would only need to meet maybe one more time before you were finished planning. Which was good, you were almost done dealing with the devil. You guys continued to work. Geto asked a question that wasn’t about event planning. “Hey Y/N you know every time we’ve worked at your place, and every time your parents aren’t here, why is that?” you answered, you're not sure why you did but you did. “Oh, they just travel for work a lot. It’s been like that since I was young.” Unintentionally the last part of your statement came off conflicted. And you were about to make some comment to not open up that vulnerability but, Geto spoke before you. “That must be hard.” your head darted to his face trying to analyze for the deeper, malice reason behind his words. But, you couldn’t find anything of that sort. Geto was still typing away but, you swear you could see some kind of fragility in his eyes, something you’d never see in someone who isn’t another person. And that’s what made you choke up, Geto wasn’t the devil, he might not be the most purest of people, but fuck at the end of the day he was human, just like you.

And that’s how you're in the predicament you're in now, you're utterly conflicted. It was easy to blow off Geto and dislike him when he didn’t display his humanity. Now though you couldn’t do that all week you’ve been hung up on that fact. In no way did it mean you like Geto, you still dislike him. Just your rude thoughts about him feel slightly cruel now.

Geto 🖕

My place tn?

You

Sure just give me address

The pit in your stomach grew, god why did you care so much, it was one comment. It was funny because Geto doesn’t remember that situation at all. Or at least in the way you viewed it. He was still trying to piece together why you were acting the way you were acting. He didn’t remember making you uncomfortable in fact, he was going out of his way not to because he wanted to see what would happen. But, this reaction was not at all what he was expecting. Thinking about it just left him more confused so he focused on something else for the time being before you came over.

Ding Dong Geto opened the door with the soft smile that usually plastered his face. “Ah Y/N glad you came, wasn’t sure if you were” he joked as you walked inside. His place was nice, surprisingly clean. After a few minutes of viewing the place Geto offered some drinks for the both of you and the two of you got started. You were both a lot more quiet than usual. And you couldn’t help but keep looking over at Geto. You hadn’t even realized you were scotting closer to him until you felt your body slightly touching his. As soon as you realized you had jumped back he laughed. “Get lost in the moment princess?” your face turned red and you replied back. “Oh hush it’s warmer on your side so, I was probably moving there because of that.” he chuckled again before asking in a more playful manner. “Is that so? Are you saying you're cold?” you nod hesitantly not sure where he was going with this. Knowing that tone though definitely nothing good. He got up and went off to another room, once he came back he had a blanket in hand. He sat next to you placing the blanket over the two of you.

You tried to nudge back, but there wasn’t much room for you to go and you groaned. “Geto do you have to be so close there’s a whole couch-” “The blanket wouldn’t reach across the couch” you wanted to protest but, gave up shutting your mouth. You guys continued to work and were able to finish up the planning completely. You stretch out in joy now that you finished you could head home. “Woooo finally done!” you then yawned, as you had realized the time. “Wow we went on for a while, didn't we, already 1 am.” Geto said as he got off the couch grabbing a beer and offered you one. “Oh, I’m not a fan- thanks though” he nods and you clean up ready to go back to your place. The only problem is all the train stations were closed, and your house wasn’t exactly walking distance. You bite your lip trying to figure out what to do. You're knocked out of your thought process though, when there was a tap on your shoulder. “If you need, you can stay here since it's already late.” Fuck, why’d he have to offer that. You in no way wanted to stay with Geto, but at the same time walking home this late at night didn’t seem pleasant either. You groan, slipping your shoes off. “You know what I’ll take that beer-” and he smiles, handing you the other bottle.

So, maybe you guys got carried away (you did). After Geto offered you one you had another… And another… After that he stopped you but, it didn’t mean you didn’t feel the effects of the alcohol. You just wanted to have one to be able to loosen up a bit, but then you figured fuck it you didn’t want to remember any of this. “Thought you didn’t like beer?” he joked, his hair was pretty, it always was when it was let down. You weren’t even aware you had begun to softly stroke it till he faked coughed. “There's a spare room across from mine… You can sleep there here I’ll show you.” Your face flushed as he helped you up. His place wasn’t huge, but it was nice. When you entered the room he was about to speak but you spoke before. “What will happen after this?” he turned around giving you a confused look. You bit your tongue, “After the event is finished what will happen. Are things just… Going back to how they were me hating you and you periodically teasing me..?” Your throat was dry, you weren’t sure why you were saying this, frankly you didn’t care. Geto was confused because he didn’t expect someone like you to get this emotional out of the blue, of course being under the influence lets people speak their mind much more freely. “Is that what you want to happen?” you bit your lip sitting on the bed. Your eyes darted down to the floor shifting focus constantly. “I don’t know what I want… But, I don’t hate you, and I don’t want to act like I do. Once this ends after tonight… I don’t want to act like I hate another person…” You let out a long sigh before hesitating. “I don’t want to lose you Suguru” For the first time you had said his name, not his last name not his full name, his actual first name. In such a gloomy way, it was like his name was something special to you; maybe it was. Even though you were in no way the first person to use his name, or the first girl to stay at his place, or anything of that sort. You were the first time he felt something, he didn’t think he could. Your voice was soft and raw, the complete opposite of how you came off to you. Something about seeing you in such a weirdly vulnerable state made Suguru Geto go silent. There was no teasing comment, no malice there wasn't any of that. He shook it off ‘you’re drunk, you don’t know what you're saying’ he thought.

“Goodnight Y/N” the door shuts.

You’re awoke to soft rays of sun resting onto your face. Your eyes feel heavy as you turn off the bed. Before you fully get up, memories of last night flood your mind. You were so stupid. You didn’t even want to get out of bed, you laid back down. Maybe the mattress would let you fully sink in, be consumed by it and never have to see the light of day again. You wanted that. Sadly you couldn’t sink into the sheets and never come back, life doesn’t work like that. You get up with an army of thoughts weighing you down as you grab the door handle to leave the room. You take a deep breath swallowing the lump that had stilled in your throat and opened the door. You marched out to the living room and the smell of bacon? Your eyes darted in the kitchen and Suguru had stood there, cooking what was in fact bacon, along with eggs. “Sleeping beauty finally awakes.” he says in a playful tone, it was friendly though. You don’t move towards him but your mouth begins to slip open. “I’m sorry about last night… I- my mind gets all fucked when I drink.” you speak guilty dying on what Geto would say luckily you wouldn’t have to wait long. “It’s alright you didn’t do anything wrong.” you bite your lip “Yeah But-” he turns around placing down the spatula he was using. Walking over to you he looks down at you, his hand gently cupping your face. “Y/N it’s okay I won’t judge you or see you any different for something you said drunk.” Some alcohol must've been left in your system because you tug his head down. You fucking kiss him.

His head dipped down pushing further connecting your mouths more than before. He didn’t pull away. It didn’t take long for his tongue to slip inside you, it was welcomed joyfully. Pulling back you regain your breath Suguru didn’t wait long though before pushing you against the wall. He softly let out a whimper and he kissed you again. Your lips were vibrating against one another, it felt warm, and he felt safe. While he was intense and rough there was also a gentleness to his touch; it was intimate in a way that wasn’t just lust. His knee slipped between your thighs applying an ever-so-slight amount of pressure. You craved more. Still interlinked as you try pushing more pressure onto yourself, Suguru’s leg quickly drops through ashe chuckles. “Oh come on Y/N why try to rush this?” his voice was like velvet the way he whispered in your ear sent butterflies not only to your stomach…

You whimper whining to him “Come on Sugu’ please-” Geto’s face was buried in your neck humming. “Using nicknames now princess? You must really want this then.” his hair was down which was causing strands of hair to tickle your chin. His hands traveled down your waist as he continued to speak. “Tell me… how wet are you for me?” his hand was already dipping into your pants. His middle finger hooks your underwear. He doesn't move any further though and looks at you. “Before I go any further, do you want to do this Princess? I'm not sure if I'll be able to hold myself back if you say yes though…” you whine biting on your bottom lip, fuck you were hot. “Please Suguru-” and that was all the confirmation he needed.

His fingers slip inside your underwear and start toying with your clit ever, his middle finger rubbed ever so slightly against your entrance driving you crazy. Your jaw was shaking as you tried so hard not to make a loud noise. Suguru obviously took notice, he pressed his thumb into your cunt causing you to moan out of shock. “I won't allow you to purposely stay quiet Y/N.” his thumb moved out and was replaced by his middle finger and ring finger stuffing themselves deep into your dripping sex. Once they rested deep in you he started to make a scissoring motion stretching out your walls.

He barely even started and you were a mess, heavy breathing with flushed cheeks, God you were beautiful like this. He wondered how much more pretty you get when you are ruined. A third finger entered inside you and you chocked up a moan. “Sugu- too much-“ he laughed softly. “Too much? We’ve haven’t even started yet… and if you can’t take this how are you going to handle my dick inside you?” He didn’t sound sympathetic in the slightest, he was enjoying your suffering. If it was any other situation you would’ve cursed him out but, for right now you kept your mouth shut.

His digits started thrusting in and out of you, his pace started off slow but quickly grew in pace. At the same time his free hand was slipping down your pants while firmly holding a grip on you. By now your own hands were grasping onto his shoulders, your nails crinkling his shirt. “Loosen up, you're so tight it feels like you’re going to snap my fingers.” Suguru spoke as he continued to thrust inside you. You moaned softly panting as Geto felt his pants painfully tighten. He couldn’t wait much longer but seeing you like this made him desperate to savor the moment. Usually when he fucks people he tries to get down decently fast, taking too long to get to him fucking someone’s brains out usually leads to him being ever so greatly uninterested. You though, he wanted to see how much he could push you, he wanted to break you and see how much of a mess your perfect little self could become.

It didn’t take long to make you cum over his fingers, your walls clenching and your breath shaky. “F-fuck” you moan out gripping harder on Geto’s shoulders. Your head pressed on his chest and his fingers sliding out of you. He takes fingers and presses them against your mouth. “Suck” it wasn’t a request, it was an order. And so you obliged opening your mouth and sucking his digits clean of your very own fluid. When he removes his fingers from your mouth he replaces them with his mouth and tongue. You feel him groan against you and you feel his erection grind on your unclothed pussy.

He couldn’t wait much longer, he needed to feel inside you god he had fantasied moments like this. Yet when it was so close to becoming reality he felt absolutely insane. He unbuckled his belt and you help him, pull down his pants and through his boxers your could really get an idea of his size. He was big. When it sprung free that idea was really put to light and god, it was mesmerizing. He laugh before guiding you to be perched against the counter. His fingers trace down your spine as he lifts up your shirt. Suguru admires the beauty of your bare body whispering “God you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this for Princess” you didn’t have time to pick away on what he meant by that, right now you were focused on feeling him inside you. Which didn’t take long as you could feel him already pressing his tip being covered in your wet content. “G-God…” He was trying so hard to control himself and not shove his whole length in one go.

Slowly his cock entered your clit until he bottomed out. When he did you both let out a soft groan. His pace started of slow and shallow, he was trying to not completely get lost in you’d. But feeling how tight you were around him, god he couldn’t help but go faster. Maybe a bit too fast as you were letting out hiccuped moans. “Sugu- p-please slow down” god you sounded fucking ruined, he loved it. He thrusted into you one more time before he started to slow down, he was getting close. “Fuck bout’ to cum p-princess” he was about to pull out but, you stop him. “Don’t… please- need it inside.” And who was he to deny you…

“God I love you Y/N… so fucking perfect” and you couldn’t help but whimper back to him “I love you too.”

260 notes · View notes

bearlytolerant · 7 months ago

Text

Fandom: Star Wars: The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x fReader

Fic Rating: E

Chapter Rating: M

AO3

ONE TWO THREE

Today—

Today is the same. Morning’s light shines, spackled and fractured through the tattered, burlap curtain. There’s dust motes floating. Were they always there? You raise your hand to shield your face. You squint. You silently sit up. There’s a satisfying crackle when you roll your shoulders back and when you twist from side to side. A tilt of your head and a flicker from your dream smiles at you before it dissipates along with your sleepy, sleepless haze.

You must go to work.

You must go.

You must.

Clothes on, boots up, fingers wiggling into synth leather fingerless gloves, you leave the dust motes behind as you step outside. The town comes to life with overcast skies. Lights in fog and residents hurrying along and there’s a fight breaking out in the alley but you're a passerby.

Work is work and you grow weary. The crates are heavier today. Or maybe you’re just weaker? Who’s to say? Food is food. But wait, you forgot to eat and now your stomach chastises you. Drink is drink. You had coffee and water when you arrived on the job, right? Right?

The hours drag, just like your feet and when you finally leave your mundane job, not all inventory is accounted for but it’s tomorrow's problem now. Halfway home, the rain splatters thick and almost viscous on top of your head.

You look up and the light sputtering catches your eye. You’re at the apothecary again.

A hesitation. Then you’re stepping inside.

This will prove a reprieve from the rain.

“Oh—hello.”

The apothecary tilts his head and smiles. There is something familiar about that expression. That tilt of the head. But you can’t quite grasp why as he gestures to you with a warm welcome. He is handsome, you notice, now that he’s without his hood. His bangs still swoop down around his cheeks, moist with sweat from another hot day. The rain just makes everything sticky, not cool.

There’s a bit of herbal residue smudged on his forehead.

It’s—endearing.

The apothecary is indeed a reprieve from the rain. Man or building? You know which is the truth, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“Hello,” you reply.

“Hi.” His smile grows. “You again.”

“Me again.” You offer a half-smile. “Not completely trashed this time. Just coming in from the rain.”

“You look tired,” he says. “Come in. Sit. You hungry? I was just preparing sandwiches.”

“A sandwich sounds nice.” You find a chair situated near the grimy window. Taking a peek, there’s nothing that can be seen outside with the rain hitting the glass.

The apothecary hums to himself while he makes the sandwiches and you opt for small talk.

“You’re new here.” It’s a statement. Should have been a question.

“Am I?” He replies and he wanders over to you, offering a sandwich.

“Yes.” You remember the previous owner. They had to stand on a stool to tend to any needs, eyes hovering just above the countertop even then. “Nej wasn’t as friendly as you. Was mostly a ball of grunts.”

“You think I’m friendly?” His eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Have you met the other people here?”

“You seem friendly.” He hands you one of the sandwiches.

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

“Exactly that,” he says as you reach for the sandwich.

Without hesitation, you take a bite. It’s the best you’ve eaten in a long while. There’s a savory sauce slathering the bread that melds all the flavors together perfectly. “Thank you,” you murmur after swallowing. “This is delicious.”

He bows his head slightly.

After devouring your meal in record time, he offers you a cup of tea which sits in your palms, perfectly warm and properly balanced. You miss the weight of your usual preferred drink. The burn of it, as it slides down your throat, lightning liquor souring your stomach just so. It makes you forget. But this tea—this tea, it’s bitter and tangy and—

“How is it?” He asks, eyeing you with hopeful expectation, worrying at his bottom lip.

Pleasant.

“It’s tea,” you say, sipping slowly. “It’s good.”

A grand smile and again you think, he is handsome. Too handsome. His easy smile and effortless charm put you at ease. At ease. You’ve placed a small trust in his hands.

Your eyes dart around the apothecary, pulse quickening as you realize you’ve let yourself be comfortable in the presence of a stranger. A kind stranger no less, and you remember the faces of kindness. The faces of strangers who became family. They wore their kindness as masks and told you to be grateful, thankful that they wore the mask. Without their benevolence, you’d still be orphaned on the streets. Dead or starved. And you were grateful. You were. But what about all the times their masks were deliberately placed on the table? Hands on your throat, you gasp for air and a plea never escapes your lips. Why won’t your mind forget? Forget their face? Forget the mask, the words, the past? The more you ask yourself, the more their words play on repeat: “Go to your room and meditate on what you have made me do.” It wasn’t the first time they said it but after—after—it became the last.

A deep breath and you shove your own voice down into the deepest recesses as the teacup rattles in your hand.

The teacup falls.

One breath in.

Shatters.

One breath out.

Meditate on what you have made me do.

“Are you okay?” The apothecary’s hand is on your shoulder and you startle, shrugging out from under it.

“Don’t touch me,” you snarl.

As the memory fades, you regret your words.

You know it matters that he asked after you first even if it can’t quite quell the turmoil stirring within you.

You scramble to your knees, that voice that isn’t yours but could be, screaming at you to clean up your mess, and branding you with cruel words as you use your hands to gather up the broken pieces.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you say.

What you should have said all those years ago too.

“It’s alright. Let me take care of this.”

“You’ve done so much already. Please. I will clean it up. I can’t repay you with credits.”

Your debt with this man is already outstanding.

“At least let me get you a broom,” he says. His hand reaches for your shoulder but he withdraws it before it lands. Another small smile that lights up his face, shines bright in his eyes and again, you wish you wouldn’t have snapped at him.

His kindness isn’t a mask. The instincts you could once trust tell you this but you can’t dwell on it and you can’t trust that instinct after everything. After before.

He disappears and you’re left hunched over a million shards of porcelain and when you flip your hands, you see the blood prickling to the surface of the fresh cuts delivered by your own faltering. Your own dwelling on the happenings of years ago. Inability to cling to the present lays scattered at your feet. This has always been your struggle. Ruminating. If only you could translate this skill into true meditation and find peace. If only you could be something much less useless.

It’s not supposed to be like this. It wouldn’t have been like this if you hadn’t been so incredibly weak and ran into this place from the rain. You would have been wet. That’s it. The memories would not have resurfaced. The cup would not have broken. And the shame—the shame—the shame would not have sunk its fangs into your mind and begun bleeding you dry.

There’s tightness in your chest and you want to cry. It’s there, that old familiar feeling and you can picture a smaller, frailer version of yourself curled up in a ball, silently succumbing to sleep with tears streaming down your face and dribbling away onto your pillow. That feeling only winds tighter as the blood on your hands continues to pool. Maybe this is how you cry now? With another breath, the tenseness in your chest unravels and your eyes meet the apothecary’s before his eyes land on your hands.

“That looks like it hurts. I have just the thing.” He rests the broom against the wall and shuffles toward the shelves. There’s some clattering and he hums to himself again before returning with salves and gauze. “May I?” He offers his hand with brows lifted.

Does he even know how much it means to you that he asked first?

Tentatively you reach out and he grasps your wrist so gently, steadying it in his lap as he squats over the broken shards with you, brows furrowing in concentration as he first wipes away the blood. He is tender with his touch, swiping along those cuts, careful not to snag the fabric on your skin. He applies the salve the same way but even softer with how he handles you, finger pads kissing your skin as he lightly taps them against your own fingertips before grabbing the gauze. For a moment you wonder if what he said is true. Maybe you are special. Special to him? But that’s not possible. You glance up at his face as his unhurried care eases away the ache in your hands and in your head. He catches you staring and smiles, fastening the gauze tightly and squeezing your hand lightly before letting go.

“There. Better?”

“Yes. Thank you,” you manage to murmur, flipping your gauzed hand over and resting it on your knee as you slowly rise to stand.

Broom already retrieved, he holds it outstretched to you. “You know, if you’re really not happy with acts of kindness and need some sort of absolution, I am in need of an assistant.”

The broom stills in your hand as you glance up at him curiously.

“You’re wondering if I can read your mind aren’t you? I can’t. You’ve just got that worried and defeated look. I understand that look. Know it well, believe it or not.” He wanders over to the counter and hops onto it, knocking a vial over that he fumbles with before managing to catch it and puts it back properly. You almost laugh. “I was considering a droid to assist but—” He shrugs.

Relief washes over you. You are used to quid pro quo. That you can handle. Besides working for this man seems far better than your current job. Couldn’t be worse.

“I’ll do it,” you say, picking up the dustpan and sweeping the porcelain into it. “Um, but what should I call you.”

He chuckles. “Right. Right. Introductions.” He tilts his head and smiles, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Qimir.”

You utter your own name as you hold the dustpan in one hand, taking the two steps over to him to offer your empty one. Future tomorrows will not be the same and maybe—just maybe, you think with a glimmer of hope, that it’s a good thing.

#bear writes #qimir x reader #qimir #the acolyte #the acolyte fanfiction #star wars acolyte #star wars fanfiction #drag me under: 3 #dmu #cut for length

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utilitycaster · 5 months ago

Note

(you don't need to publish this because a) it's not a question and b) I don't want that maybe you're getting attacked/vagueblogged over it) I just wanted to say, that I originally came to your blog because of your nuanced, deep and really really good Caleb meta and that Imogenfans are missing out big time. I think, if Im/odna fans wouldn't have acted the way they did and talented people hadn't stopped writing meta about them, at least I would have warmed up to the characters way more....

Hi anon,

I hope you don't mind me publishing it anyway just because it's a good opportunity to elaborate on a few rather fanwanky feelings in one brief-ish statement.

I don't really care if people vague me and I think people who don't like being vagued are valid, but people who don't like being vagued, whine about it, and then continue to vague others are, understandably, idiots making the situation worse. Most people who had issues with being vagued re: the above simply stopped writing meta, which is why there's not much of it. Also a lot of what people call vaguing is just meta that disagrees with theirs, to be honest. I mean I do vague, a lot, and I'm very good at it, but I've also written 100% good faith meta about things I was thinking about the narrative without consideration of other peoples' opinions and it was called vaguing because I used aggressive tactics like citing my sources.

I've covered the fact that Imogen was actually treated very similarly to Caleb with the key difference that people who wrote meta about Caleb were treated badly by his haters, whereas people who wrote meta about Imogen were treated badly by her then-supporters who are now mostly defending Ashton and Dorian because Imogen started saying things they don't like and don't want to address. I just want to reiterate that if someone ever says that The Male Characters Played By White Actors Never Receive Hate you should just block them and stop taking them seriously. The hate is obviously not motivated by bigotry against real people, typically (though some criticism of Veth was certainly misogynistic even though Sam is a man, for example) but they still did receive pretty intense hate. It is kind of telling, personally, re a certain lack of backbone that people will bring up the horrible things people said about Liam or Travis or Taliesin in their own defense and then turn around and willingly engage with the people making these accusations they clearly know to be false, but you know. Unsurprising.

I tried to write something longer that really dug into the outline of events but it really comes down to this: a lot of the direct harassment (not vagueing) of meta writers, especially with regards to Imogen or Laudna, occurred during episodes like...20-50 of this campaign, and I think those doing the harassment either thought this would somehow make meta writers go "oh my god you're so right about the thing that you said I should die for not agreeing with, I'm going to write meta for you now" or that this would shut them down but wouldn't make other meta writers say "oh this environment has become hostile", which obviously it would. Coupled with the fact that this is when a lot of meta writers realized the campaign pacing was fucked and the party wasn't clicking in the same way past ones had and it really turned into a case of high risk of unpleasantness for a not really worth it reward for many of the meta writers who were around in earlier campaigns, and that in TURN meant that it's harder to have a good conversation without having existing chats so it's a less pleasant place for new fans. Anyway uh. I think the lesson here is that those C2 meta writers ARE around for Midst and Candela Obscura so it's also kind of a waiting game in the event that there is a future campaign (and if not, they will still be here for Midst/Candela/Possibly Daggerheart or future EXUs); they're just not here to write about Imogen or Laudna because it's not worth the trouble.

#answered #Anonymous #people who are throwing fits about 2 year old meta they don't like w/a smoking gun at the fandom like Why Would The Meta Writers Do This

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corazondebeskar-reads · 1 year ago

Text

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter four

well it’s love, make it hurt series

four: some place we can be ourselves

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: The Mandalorian buys you a present.

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/sub dynamics, Dom!Din and sub!reader, soft Dom!Din, pain play, nipple play, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), collaring (collar in the moodboard is not completely what I wanted. tell me not to have it commissioned just for the purpose of a photo lol), some feelings

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 6: Collar, inspired by @absurdthirst's wonderful prompt list, without which I probably would not have written anything.

also on ao3

3 ABY - Fall

Neither of you were squeamish; you couldn’t be. Injuries were inevitable in your line of work. You had seen Mando burn his skin back together. He had seen you stitch up a gash on your leg.

So why was the slowly fading ring of bruises around your neck so hard for him to look at? Was he still mad about the botched job and your behavior that night? Or did it simply disgust him to see marks on you made by any other hand?

Whatever it was, he needed to get over it. The worst damage had been healed by the bacta spray on the first night, and you refused to waste more over bruising.

You were starting to get mad, now that you thought about it. You had just been examining the wounds in the mirror of the fresher. You had just gotten out, dried off, and dressed when you caught sight of your reflection.

You were up on your toes, neck craned to see around the sides. It was healing up nicely. You ran your fingers over the delicate skin, and it was far less tender. It was almost pleasant, the dull ache when you pressed on them.

Mando chose that moment to walk past. He stopped, staring at you for a half second, and hit the button to close the fresher door on you.

“Hey!” you smacked the door with your hand. “What was that for?”

But when it slid back open, the hull was empty.

You were heading out in the morning for a hunt, one that promised a challenge. As glad as you were for an interesting job, it also meant you and Mando were essentially hands-off until there was a new carbonite slab on the ship.

So really, he was going to have to get over it or live without getting his dick wet for another week. Given the voracity of his libido so far, the latter seemed unlikely.

While Mando putters around in the hull eating his dinner, you curl up in your seat in the cockpit with a book on the datapad. Your routine had settled quietly into this rhythm—he could eat without rushing, you could read without him groping at you, and you both got time alone. For two people who had been mostly solitary before, it was invaluable.

“I’m running into town,” he calls up the ladder.

“What? What for?” you yell back, but it's drowned by the pneumatics of the ramp. “What the fuck?” you say to the empty ship.

By the time he returned, the suns had set, and the moss-dripping trees outside were thick and dark. You had dozed off in your seat, feet tucked under you and head resting on your folded arms. The datapad had slipped down between your knee and the seat.

He shook your shoulder, and you stirred. Not for the first time, you marveled at how deep you could sleep here. How you had stopped flinching for your blaster. You blink up at him, a smile breaking out, until you remember why you had fallen asleep there.

“Hey, what the kriff was that? You just took off, like—” You helpfully demonstrate with a little wave of your hand and a whoosh.

He stares down at you, head cocked, hand still on your shoulder. “What’s with the outfit?” He waves a hand at you in what you're sure is a rude mockery of your previous gesture.

Oh, right. The outfit. It didn’t seem so clever now. You had wrapped yourself in an elaborate headscarf that hung over you like a hood with a tasseled cowl. And, well, nothing else. Your blanket had slipped when you sat up.

You were supposed to be waiting for him bare. Accessible. Ready. And to the little bratty voice in the back of your head that was so mad at him earlier, this was compliant. He didn’t say you couldn’t accessorize. It wasn’t denying him access to your body.

Right now, though, as he put a hand on one hip and glared down at you, it felt like maybe you were in trouble.

“I, um.” Stars, why did you think this was a good idea? You thought you could confront him about the bruises and maybe get a little roughed up in the process. And you would have enjoyed it earlier, but now, suddenly, it feels like you might cry if he yells at you.

He hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken. You know when you’re being given a second chance, so you swallow hard and look back up at him.

“I’m sorry. I was kind of trying to push you, it seemed like a good idea, but I don’t want to anymore, I promise.”

“Why?”

“Why what? Why did I want to, or why do I not want to?”

He sighs heavily. “Why did you want to?”

You look down at where the datapad is lodged, picking at the edge of the cushion with your nail. “I was trying to make you mad,” you mumble.

He tilts your chin up with a bare hand. You hadn’t even noticed him take the gloves off, but it feels so nice that you almost forget you're trying to talk your way out of trouble.

“Sweetheart. Why would you want me to be mad at you? If you want me to hurt you, all you have to do is ask nicely.”

At the low rumble of his wicked words, you no longer feel the cold of the cockpit. Your mouth waters, and you’re hyper-aware of how hard your nipples are, how exposed.

“I—kind of? No, I mean—” You can’t concentrate anymore. His finger that was stroking your cheek brushes across your bottom lip, and you open automatically, waiting. Begging. He pulls it away, and you whine.

“Hmm. Not yet. I want you to finish explaining yourself.”

“I had hurt feelings.” It punches out of you, and you’re mortified to realize it's the truth. You had been telling yourself you were mad, and maybe you were, but you had been lashing out like a hurt massiff.

Mando squats down beside the chair, and you turn, crossing your legs so you can face him. “What did I do that hurt your feelings, pretty girl?”

“It’s stupid, I’m being stupid. I’m—”

His hand snaps out, and unlike the gentle touch earlier, he grips your jaw tight before slapping you sharply across the face with his other hand. You yelp, more from surprise than pain.

“What have I said about that? Are you allowed to talk about yourself that way?”

“No, sir,” you whisper.

“And why not?”

“Because I’m yours, and if I’m disrespecting myself, it means I’m disrespecting you.” It was a lesson you had learned over his knee on more than one occasion.

“Good girl. Now tell me why you’re upset.”

“It’s like you can’t even look at me anymore, when you can see my neck. I’m sorry I fucked up; I’m sorry it’s ugly. I thought if I covered it up, maybe, maybe…”

Your words die in your throat as he stands up off the floor, rubbing a tired hand over his helmet. He snaps his fingers, jerking a thumb toward the pilot seat. “Get up, c’mon, I’m not doing this here.”

You scramble to your feet, confused and a little scared. Doing what? Oh, kriff, what had you gotten yourself into?

“Grab your pillow, baby,” he called from across the room without looking.

You double back for it. He was settled in his chair when you reached him, so you let it fall with a soft thwomp before lowering yourself to your knees.

“Look at me,” he orders. “And take that off.”

Fuck. Someday you’d get it through your head and stop giving in to the urge to hide. He hated it, but it was one of the few holdups you still had.

When you obey, tossing the scarf out of sight, he reaches down and wraps his hand around the side of your neck, avoiding most of the bruising. “I didn’t look because I didn’t want you to be disgusted by me.”

You furrow your brow, opening your mouth to speak, but thinking better of it.

“You were so upset about what happened on that hunt. And I hate that it was someone else who put those there. But stars, baby, do you look beautiful all marked up. I want to sink my hands in until you’re wearing my fingerprints all the time.”

Your mouth falls open, throat dry, and you shift around on your knees. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What, no. Just. Fuck, that’s so hot.”

He leans back, studying you. “You know, I never want you to try something you’re not comfortable with just because it’ll please me.”

“I’m not, I swear. I couldn’t stop looking at them in the mirror and wishing it had been you.”

He swears darkly, leaning forward so suddenly you flinch back a little. His hand cups your cunt between your spread legs, and he swipes a finger through your folds and holds it up. It’s soaked. He chuckles. “Good girl,” and shoves the finger between your lips with no pretense.

You close your lips around the digit, sucking and watching him through wide eyes. You whine when he pulls it out.

“As much as I would like to mark you up, cyar’ika, it’s not safe. But I did have an idea for something almost as good.” He reaches into a pouch on his belt and holds up a strip of leather.

It doesn’t register right away. You stare at it and then at him. He holds it out to you flat on both hands, and you gasp. You've never seen one outside of the holos he's shown you, but you recognize it all the same.

The leather is soft and supple in the same brown as his bandolier. It has a simple double-loop closure. You run your fingers over it for a moment before he snatches it back to dangle it just out of your reach.

“I take it you like it.”

You hold your hands in your lap, biting your bottom lip and whining. He laughs and runs a hand through your hair.

“You want it, sweetheart? Want to wear my collar so everyone knows you’re mine?”

“Please,” you beg over and over.

“You are mine, right? My sweet, obedient girl.”

“Yes, sir, please. I’ll be so good for you.”

He laughs. “Of course you will, needy thing. You’re already all mine. Look at you, trying so hard to please me.”

Your face goes hot. After the last few months of him talking to you like this, you thought you’d stop being embarrassed, but it only seems to get worse.

“C’mere,” he says, voice softer as he leans back. “Want you up here so I can see.”

You scramble onto his lap, straddling him. He pulls you closer so your wet cunt smears where he strains against the flight suit, and you moan.

“Can I put it on you?”

You’re already whispering a litany of pleas before he finishes the sentence.

You stop breathing when he reaches around you, holding as still as you can. You want to feel every second of it. He gently lifts your hair out of the way to settle the strap behind your neck before pulling the ends to meet in the front. He slides it into place, tucking two fingers between the collar and your neck.

“How’s it feel, ner cyare?”

You don’t ask about the new Mando’a. He’s never told you what cyar’ika means, either. Not that you’ve asked. He says it with enough fondness that you trust it’s not mean, and this sounds the same. Not that you aren’t curious. But the only things you know about Mandalorians are things he’s told you of his own volition, and you’re afraid to push.

Your eyes are watering. You trace your fingers over the collar with shaky hands. You’re terrified, actually, because this feels like something heavier than the other ways you play. “I love it,” you whisper.

He tugs on it, yanking you closer to him, before pulling it back, grinning at the way you let your body be moved at his will. “I think I like this a lot.” He holds you in place with it, pinching and tugging on your nipples. He gives your tits a few sharp smacks to feel the way you jerk in his lap.

“Ready for me, baby?” he teases.

You know it’s rhetorical, especially given that he’s already pulled his cock out, but you moan a “yes, please, sir,” just to see the way it makes him twitch. He smacks your clit twice with the head of his cock and then just shoves it all the way in.

He tugs the collar, pulling you to bend forward at an awkward angle.

“Watch, pretty girl. Look how greedy your little pussy is. Look how well you take me.”

You can’t look away. He’s splitting you in half, the pressure sharp and incredible, but you’d never know it from the way your walls and lips are hugging his shaft, beckoning him in. He flicks your clit while you’re watching, but you still jerk back at the sting. You’re stopped short by the collar, and he laughs and does it again.

He pinches and twists at it while you make broken little sounds, moans and cries, and you squirm to get out of range of his cruel fingers. But you can’t. He’s got you pinned so well between the cage of his thighs, bent up behind you, and the grip on your collar.

He only takes pity on you when he moves his attention back to your swollen nipples.

“S’it hurt?” he pants.

You whimper.

“Really? 'Cause you’re fucking soaked, cyar’ika, and your cunt keeps squeezing me so tight. I think you like it.” He flicks your nipple to punctuate his words.

“I do, I do like it, please. Like anything you do to me.”

“Those are dangerous words, sweetheart.”

“Nuh-uh,” you grunt, face twisting as he tugs hard before switching back to your clit. “Nnn. Trust you.”

He pinches a little harder than he means to, struck by the sweet way you bare yourself to him. His fingers dip down to gather some of the slick you’re leaking around his cock, and he brings them back up to your clit, rubbing firm, tight circles.

He drops your collar and grabs your jaw, pistoning his hips up harder so the wet slap of your bodies echoes in the cockpit. “Whose cunt is this?”

“Yours, sir,” you gasp.

“Yeah? Whose beautiful, perfect slut is this?”

“Yours, sir.”

“Cum for me, cyar’ika.” He presses down hard on your clit, and his hips stutter when you immediately clench down, body jerking. He grabs you by the collar and holds you upright so you don’t fall as you twitch and scream.

He doesn’t ease up, rubbing hard at your clit. “Another one. Now.”

You don’t know how he does it. You never have to force it. He knows your body like his armory, knows how much pressure it takes to pull the trigger, knows right when to fire. You’ve never not cum when he commanded.

“Down,” he snaps after you’ve come apart on him a few more times over.

You slide off immediately, sinking down onto the pillow, mouth open and tongue out. Your hands lay in your lap, palms up, and you even remember to keep your eyes open.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” he groans, stroking himself furiously before shoving into your throat as he spills. You take it all, eyes on him as you watch him fall apart for once. His shaky hand strokes through your hair as he comes down before settling around your neck just below the collar.

He pulls you back up into his lap, askew so your legs dangle over one side of the chair, and he can tuck your head against his chest. You’re shaking and softly crying as he wraps you up in your forgotten blanket.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “And cyar'ika?”

You look up at him, sniffling and trying to blink back the last of your tears.

“You did so good telling me when you were upset.”

You bury your face in his unforgiving chest plate, and he allows you the moment to hide. Someday, he thinks, maybe you’ll believe him.

*Title from "Beat Up Car" by Taking Back Sunday. (what is the Razor Crest if not a beat up car persevering?)

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x f!reader #kinktober 2023 #corazondebeskar-reads and writes #mistakes have been made #i love them your honor #make it hurt verse

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heavenhealy · 1 year ago

Text

genre: smut, porn with a bit of plot, flatmate!matty x fem!reader, dom!matty x sub!reader

summary: after a bit too much wine at a game night, you worry matty learned things he never would have never wanted to know about his flatmate, but he assures you you aren’t as weird as you think.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: this is smut, please do not read this if you're under 18 or uncomfortable with sexual content!! specific warnings include: swearing, alcohol consumption, they're both a bit self conscious but only briefly, crying, (VERY MINOR) who hurt you troupe bc I'm a whore for it, reader is worried about being kinkshamed/implications she has been in the past, dom/sub dynamics, praise, degradation (consensual), unprotected sex (don't do this), choking, spitting, hair pulling, spanking, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), aftercare, fluff, matty being a little softie after sex

a/n: I haven't written anything in a while so I apologize if this is rusty! I also do not proof read so there may be some mistakes, and as always please let me know if I missed a warning and I will add it on. Happy reading! :)

"Never have I ever...." Your friend trails off, swirling the contents of her wine glass absently in her hand. Her living room is packed but all the attention is on her as she speaks. A sudden blast of nostalgia from college collides into you: you sitting in your much smaller common room with her and your group of classmates, drunk off cheap beer as you swap horror stories about professors and dating. She had always been the most gripping and magnetic person you knew. Someone who could pull all of your darkest, deepest secrets out of the folds of your mind before you even realized.

Or maybe it was the expensive wine that she always had stocked now that you were adults.

"Oh! Never have I ever made someone choke me during sex." A few flickers of laughter go up around the room, and you watch as some couples proudly throw back gulps of their drinks. Your mind whirrs, suddenly self conscious at the idea of someone seeing you take a drink, but you do it anyway. There's so many people here, and so many of them are drunk that it's unlikely anyone would remember anyway. You take a hearty gulp and feel the pleasant buzz settle in your veins, whether from the alcohol or the quiet liberation of admitting one of your darkest desires like this.

Her question seems to have inspired a new theme of the game, as the next person in line slurs, "never have I ever been spit on and liked it." Less people offer up their admittance than on the last round, and your face flushes as you try to subtly bring your glass to your mouth. Your eyes dart around, drunkenness making you feel sleepy. The room was mostly occupied by your coworkers and friends of friends, all people that you could elect to never see again if you had to, and a wash of relief has you taking another sip of wine- this one just for enjoyment.

"Never have I ever let someone I'm hooking up with come inside me." Even you have to laugh at the absurdly sexual way the game began to go, but you jovially drain the last of your wine, throwing your head back lavishly as a round of jeers go up in the circle around the coffee table.

Your head is back upright, warm and swimming with intoxication as you giggle in spite of yourself. Remnants of wine stick on your lips and you lick them, trying to pry off the last of the sweet taste. Your body feels so heavy and so light at the same time: flying and sinking with intoxication and the inherent comfort that comes with it. Your eyes flutter open, mostly because you're afraid you really could fall asleep right on the couch if you keep them shut. As soon as the visual world comes back to you, you see him.

Matty, your generous flatmate who always accompanies you to these parties when he has the time, standing just behind the seated circle of people in the game who you now notice are beginning to disperse. The sight of him is sobering. How long had he been standing there? The rest of these people were inconsequential to the rest of your life, but Matty? You share a home with him, cook each other dinner, and swap each others' laundry, and pick up medicine when the other is sick.

Nerves curl in your stomach. If he had seen all of that, he definitely would think you're a freak, a sexual deviant. Maybe he would want to terminate his lease and you would be forced to find a new place. You suddenly feel dizzy as he approaches.

Handsome as ever, he pushes a hand through his already wild curls and plops onto the couch beside you. He hums thoughtfully, examining your face closely; the flush of your cheeks, the unhinged look you're sure is present in your eyes. As hard as you try, your intoxicated mind can't comprehend the emotions showing on his own face.

About all you can muster to think is "handsomehandsomehandsome" as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth before prying the empty wine glass from your hand.

"We've got to get going," he says to someone as you stand with him, slightly wobbly in your platformed sneakers. You wave at your friend and manage to support yourself long enough to make it out of her front door. The night air is thick and sticky with humidity but Matty keeps an arm around your shoulders as you go down the stairs, silently ensuring you don't wipe out and skin your knee again.

"Thanks," you finally speak once you're onto the familiar even sidewalk back to your flat. He just hums, dark eyes sparkling under the street lamps dotted along the path.

"You didn't drink?" You ask, suddenly realizing that he seemed remarkably steady tonight.

"'course I did," he wiggles his flask from his jean pocket and waves it in front of you, "I'm just not a lightweight." You sigh, throwing your arms up dramatically. He's already giggling before you even begin to defend yourself.

"I didn't get drunk off of the one glass, Matthew! I actually had three tonight. And I didn't even get sleepy till the last one."

"Sleepy? Is that the word for it?" His voice is clipped as you make the final turn to your street, the looming complex you call home only yards away. Your brow furrows at his tone.

"What are you implying?" You stop, arms crossed defensively over your chest. He deflates, visibly dropping at your change in demeanor as if it wasn't him who caused it.

"Seriously, Y/N? We're almost home." You don't budge and he relents. "Sorry, that was rude of me. I know you're sleepy, let's go. Please? Forget I said anything." You sigh, appreciating the candid look of relief on his face when you start to walk again, all the way until you're into the safety of your bed.

---

"Oh, fuck," you grimace upon waking up. You have no idea what time it is, but sunlight is streaming in through the crack in your curtains, and you can faintly hear the sounds of the tv down the hallway. You know that your hair is tangled, and it's a miracle that you even bothered to change out of your clothes before bed.

You grasp for your phone and sit up, cursing the throbbing headache that always comes with getting wine drunk. You start picking up pieces of the night in your memory like loose change: a selfie here, a bump into a guy from accounting there, a handful of pretzels tossed into your mouth by your friend, the game of never have I ever-oh.

Shit. You swallow hard, listening for the noises downstairs, and the confirming shuffle of Matty's footsteps makes you freeze. Shit, how much had he heard? You meant to ask about it last night but lacked the cognitive ability for such a thing.

Your stomach bottoms out as you think, practicing different ways to approach it in your head.

Hey, did you hear about all of my weird sex stuff last night?

Hey buddy, learned anything about me recently that changed your view of me as a person and now you want to move out?

Hi Matty, thanks for coming with me to the party and getting us home, did you see me admit to liking being spit on?

Each idea was worse than the last, and a shiver of fear runs up your neck. You had always expected to have to deal with some differences in this living agreement, and had before, but never about something like this. Okay, maybe you could just avoid him until you came up with a good way to ask? Or maybe it would never come up at all? Perhaps he really hadn't been in the room the whole time. And worse case scenario, you have time to think about it. You could crawl right back into bed and pretend to sleep all day and-

"Y/N? You're up, right?" Matty's voice sounds from right outside the door, strong and clear. You consider ignoring him but he nudges on the door and it swings open just a bit, revealing him clutching onto a bakery to go box. He smiles bright when he sees you upright and takes a step into your room.

"Brought you a cinnamon roll,” he smiles the small, earnest smile that you don’t even think he realizes he does, and your heart melts. Surely this is a sign off goodwill.

You thank him and take the box, immediately flipping the lip open and staring down at the pastry. Your stomach rumbles at the scent so you dig in, flakes of dough falling off and back into the box as you eat. Matty stays silently in your doorway until you vaguely gesture at your bed, inviting him to sit as you chew.

He perched himself at the foot of your bed: hair messy under the hood of his favorite old sweatshirt and his hands tucked endearingly under his thighs, as if he’s waiting for something.

You finish your bite and raise an eyebrow at him, hoping that he voices whatever he wants or needs from you. Not that you didn’t love just spending time together or the random act of kindness, but faint alarm bells were still ringing at the possibility of what he learned last night. Neither of you were prudes: you’d had your fair amount of conversations about hook ups throughout your years as friends, but it still felt like a delicate line to cross.

“‘S good?” He asks, voice stunted as if he had to swallow down his nerves before he spoke. “Are you feeling okay? Not too hungover?” His eyebrows crinkle cutely as he asks, eyes roaming your face as if to make sure you’re telling the truth.

You nod your assurance. “Fine, I was mostly just hungry but you fixed that.” He echoes the grin you produce and your heart flutters. He looks so painfully domestic like this, in his comfy clothes and making sure you feel okay. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as you recall the care he took -always takes- to get you home safely.

“Good. You were...pretty blasted." You cringe, placing your head in your hands. The heat of your cheeks is strong and burning into the palms of your hands. Fear strikes down your spine, a fuzzy feeling of panic filling your mind. The question dances on the tip of your tongue.

"Hey." His fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging gently at it until you relent. The warmth of his touch lulls you a bit, but you can still feel the tears rimming your eyes. He coos, the sound a soothing balm on your heart.

"What's got you so upset? You're more than allowed to get drunk from time to time, love. I'm no saint myself." The pad of his thumb swipes gently over the vein in your arm.

"I-" one hot tear escapes you, rolling down the side of your nose. "How much did you see?" Your voice barely holds: wobbly and unsure yet you somehow find the courage to look at him: staring deep into his eyes. He looks back just as unflinchingly, studying your eyes as if he was trying to memorize their exact curvature.

His mouth opens, then closes into a frown, and a dark wave of anxiety creeps through your chest. He knows. He saw it all, and you know Matty well enough to know that he only hesitates with you when he's trying to find the right words to soften the blow. Like the time you had made horrendous tasting pasta and he pushed it around the plate until you finally asked for his honesty. He releases his hold on your wrist as you tug it away harshly, scooting further up your bed until you hit the headboard with your back.

"Sorry, I'm sorry about- if you think I'm weird and you want to leave or not live here anymore, or you don't want me to ever talk to you again-" your voice wavers and a rush of tears spill forth despite how hard you will them to stop. The idea of him never speaking to you again you makes you choke on a sob, but you can't dull the voices in your mind.

"Now why the fuck would you think that?" His voice snaps you out of your blubbering. His pretty features are marred into a scowl so deep that you gasp.

"Tell me, Y/N, why would you think that? I would never, ever-" his features shift, eyes softening. "Who made you think that way about yourself?" You try to ignore the undercurrent of anger in the question but it oddly sets you alight to hear how much he cares about this. That maybe even if he doesn't agree with your desires, he's not going to alienate you because of them.

Your tears have dried onto your cheeks, and you can feel the uneven breaths of anxiety begin to wash away as he shuffles closer until your knees touch. It still feels as if your brain is full of cotton, unable to process or produce anything meaningful to the conversation.

"I don't mind if you don't tell me who made you feel that way, but I'll be damned if I let you go on feeling' weird about it. Or alone about it. Cause you're not." You nod along listlessly as you often do when he rambles on, and with the mix of emotions rushing through you it takes you a moment to understand him. Matty traces a lazy pattern over your knee cap, eyes glued to your face as you catch up.

"Oh," it stumbles out of you before you can check yourself. "So you, like," your brain short circuits as he flashes you a dazzling smile.

"I do."

"You don't think I'm gross?" A spark of hope settles in your stomach, whether from the knowledge, or Matty's proximity, or both you aren't sure.

He licks his lips, runs his tongue over his teeth in a way that makes your heart lurch. His curls shimmy around his face as he shakes his head no, hand stilling on your knee.

"Actually quite the opposite." His lopsided grin makes you gasp, and his hand slides up the length of your leg until it's resting on the top of your thigh. He sits up onto his knees, imposing over you even on with his pajamas still on. "More surprised..." his eyes search your face, finding only awe, "happy, thrilled, elated...who would have thought my sweet little angel would be so..." he clicks his tongue, mocking as he pretends to think. Your heart rate quickens as arousal shoots through you. "Fucking dirty." He tilts his head as if speaking to a child, eyes sparkling with what you can only assume is lust.

Your mouth feels dry as your entire face and neck flush red.

"I-I, well, uhm." You gulp and he places a hand delicately on your face. You lean into the touch, no longer finding it in you to be ashamed in front of him.

"You what? Are a dirty little thing who gets off on being choked and spit on?" You nod fervently and he chuckles, winding his fingers into the hair at the base of your neck. "Gonna need some words from this pretty mouth or we aren't doing anything."

"Yes, yes! I am, Matty. C-can you please?" He tugs at your hair, sending your line of sight upwards until all you can see are his eyes and mop of curls.

"Please ruin you? Make you forget about whatever fucker shamed you for what gets you off?" All thoughts outside of Matty leave you as you whine your affirmation. The anticipation is enough to make you squirm against his hold, hot pin pricks of pleasure sparking as he pulls against your hair.

"No running now that I've got you." He smiles sinfully before pushing forward for a kiss, molding his lips against your own with ferocity that you had only imagined he would use. No matter how many times you had fantasized about kissing him you never would have expected it to feel this perfect.

He tastes like coffee and the faint staleness of his last cigarette; something so iconically Matty that it makes you want to cry. He devours you, thrusting his tongue into your mouth and holding steady on your hair to keep you exactly in place for him. Arousal roars inside of you, underwear already slicking at the show of dominance just the kiss has given you.

"Need you." You mumble it into the kiss, unable to push down your thoughts any longer. Matty relents, chest heaving just as much as your own.

"Need you," you try again, clearer this time, tugging at the strings of his hoodie. It's gone in an instant, his lean tattooed torso exposed for your viewing pleasure. Matty's hands are instantly fisting into the fabric of your old sleep shirt, stripping it as soon as you gasp out a yes. He eyeballs your tits and immediately groans, deep and guttural in a way you've never heard before. "Prettiest fuckin' girl. Look at you." The tenderness makes your heart swell as he tenderly cups your breasts in both hands, pinching at your nipples just enough to make you breathless. He places a line of kisses down your sternum and then follows the same path with a swipe of his tongue.

Shuddering, you latch onto his back and dig in with your nails, hoping to leave him with a little gift of his own. The movement presses him against you, his face buried in your stomach as he continues the sinful path of his tongue down to the elastic band of your shorts. He licks under it, being careful not to actually touch you anywhere you truly wanted him.

"Mmph, Matty, please-please please!" You moan and shiver, wriggling under his weight as he keeps you pinned down with one arm over your mid section.

He nips playfully at the skin of your stomach, "Impatient little slut, huh? Just got started on you and you're already lookin' for more." He abandons your skin completely, taking his warmth with you. A whine grumbles in your chest at the loss, but it dies in the air as you watch him shuck off his sweatpants and underwear in one go.

You can't tear your eyes away from the sight of his cock: something you'd imagined but never figured you would be lucky enough to see in person. Desire strikes through you as he settles against the bed, his lean thighs on display as he kneels on the bed.

"Can I suck your cock?" The question jumps out of you and Matty stills, seemingly shocked at your boldness. He cocks his head, biceps flexing when he wraps a hand around himself. Your mouth practically waters as he pumps himself slowly.

"Of course you can," he licks his lips as he settles into your crumpled bedsheets, spreading his legs to give you ample room to work. You spring into action, eager to repay all of the attention he's given you.

There's no time to waste once his cock is in your mouth. Your eyes water at the intrusion but you can't deny the way it makes your pussy flutter to feel so full of him. Matty gasps, lacing his fingers back through your sweaty hair and leading you further down, pressing your face into the skin of his pelvis.

A gag ripples through you and Matty groans, loosening his grip just enough that it's clear you could escape if you wished. But you don't, and you won't, as you work through the reflex with hot tears streaking down your face. Matty's breathy gasps only encourage you as you wiggle your tongue along the bottom of his cock as you suck: saliva gathering at the corners of your mouth and dripping into a sticky mess at the base of him.

"So fuckin' messy and hot, spitting all over me cause you're so desperate, is that it? Can't do anything but be stupid and drool all over my cock?" You moan at his words, bobbing your head vigorously both to show you agree with him and encourage him to say more, the nasty words flipping all the right switches in your brain.

His hips stutter up into your mouth and he huffs, pulling you off of him in painfully slow increments. You whine at the loss: throat raw and scratchy as you watch his cock shine under the light.

"Lay down," his voice is clipped and you're silently thrilled to note the shake as evidence that he was feeling just as fucked out as you.

You follow his instruction, flipping easily onto your back. He stills at the foot of your bed as you sprawl in front of him, legs parted in invitation. His chest heaves as he crowds overtop of you, heated skin against skin as he presses the length of his body onto your own. The fullness of his weight against you makes you feel fuzzy and you go lax under him, bucking your hips upwards in seek of friction over your clit.

Matty hums, his reddened lips forming into a mocking pout. "Prettiest baby ever but just so desperate," he places a kiss on your forehead and your heart flutters: eyes watering at the sweet gesture.

He catches your gaze, carefully inspecting the shine in your eyes.

"I'm okay," you voice before he can even ask, running your fingers over his jaw as you grin up at him. "Just happy." A little sly grin spreads on his lips and you can't help but return one, a giddy feeling of happiness spreading through your bones. It only makes you more ravenous for him and you whine, pushing your hips up against his own again as you attach yourself to his neck, biting a hickey into the skin just under his ear. A long moan falls from him as you work your mouth against him and your mind short circuits, in disbelief that you finally had him like this.

"Fucking quit with the hips before I explode," Matty growls, pulling away from the stimulation of your movement. You still immediately, the steel in his voice making you pliant. Apparently pleased with your behavior, Matty simply sits back, trailing his sinfully long fingers between your legs. You gasp at finally being touched, head pushing back into your pillows as Matty circles a finger around your hole, pushing in slowly as you widen your legs to allow him more access.

"Pretty little pussy, think you can handle another one?" You know he's teasing you, as he was already working another finger in alongside the first, stretching you open. The burn is deeply satisfying, liquid pleasure seeping through you as he works you open, thrumming his thumb against your clit.

"Matty, please?" You tug at the hand unoccupied with fingering you. His eyes squint in confusion at your request and you sigh, pulling his hand toward the base of your neck. His hand on your pussy stills as his mind finally catches up.

"Fuck, Y/N. You're fuckin' perfect, want me to choke you? Wanna have my hand around your neck while I fuck you stupid?." You nod dumbly, already feeling like you're on cloud nine. He moves the fastest you'd ever seen him, abandoning his work on your pussy for a threatening grip on one hip. You watch hungrily as he lines himself up with your pussy, eyes locked onto the image of his intrusion. The fullness of his cock inside of you made you keen, chest heaving as he pushes fully inside of you.

It had been a very long time since you'd been this full, and the fact that Matty was the one filling you made it even more addicting. The sheer size of his cock was enough to make you dizzy, and even more so once he finally began to move. A stream of obscenities spill out of you and Matty tsks, falling back into this dominant persona as he narrows his eyes at you, fingers dancing at the base of your neck. You swallow with harsh anticipation.

"Do I need to shut you up?" You nod eagerly, desperate to feel the strength of his hand closing around your neck. "What a dirty little girl, wantin' me to choke you when I'm already buried inside of you." His voice deepens with a groan while you plead him with your eyes, pussy throbbing around his cock at his words. His thrusts falter for just a moment as he finally relents, tightening his hold on your neck until you feel the perfect level of pressure that makes you feel perfectly floaty, nodding at him to continue his thrusts against you.

Emblazoned by the sight of his hand around your neck, Matty's hips snap into you with renewed vigor that has you rocking against the pillow, legs locked around his back. The slick sound of your pussy around him fills the room, mingling with the strangled moans that slip from both of you.

Matty pants above you, the punishing pace making your eyes roll to the back of your head. It's almost embarrassing how easily he works you up, and almost even more embarrassing how quick you are to hang your mouth open, mind blanked by the pleasure as you take everything he has to give you. He loosens his grip on your neck slightly and you whine petulantly.

"Relax, pretty. Not done with ya, hold on." Thankfully the movement of his hips doesn't even stutter as he moves his hand upwards, over the cleft of your chin before tracing the pads of his first two fingers over your bottom lip, pulling on the flesh until you open your mouth again. He smiles and lust clouds your senses as you watch his eyes crinkle.

"There's something else you want, isn't there? Something else that makes this pretty pussy all wet?" Your eyes widen, heart jumping into your throat as one of your most common wet dreams comes to life right in front of you. You try to swallow but his fingers in your mouth impede you, the tip of your tongue running over the digits.

"Wan' you to spit in my mouth," you make the sentence out with impressive clarity, especially as Matty's thrusts speed up at the confession, a deep, sustained moan rumbling out of his chest.

He slips his fingers from your mouth and immediately puts them between your bodies to thrum over your clit, slick with your own spit as they make contact. A shock runs through you, exciting every vein in your body with the whisper of your oncoming release. Despite his renewed vigor, Matty's eyes remain glued to your own as you hang your mouth open. From this angle you can see all of his pretty curls framing his face and every eyelash around his deep brown eyes. Before you even have a moment to anticipate it, a thick translucent glob of spit descends from his perfect lips and onto your waiting tongue. You swallow it eagerly as his cock twitches inside of your walls, and before you can even thank him, his hand unoccupied hand latches back onto your neck.

"I'm going to fuckin' come, shit. You're so hot." Matty's praises send you to another plane of existence as he holds you by the neck, deft fingers curling around your clit in time with his thrusts. You're sure that the sounds you're making are pathetic and embarrassing but pleasure courses through you so quickly that you can barely make out your warning that you were going to come.

Matty growls as you finally let yourself go, giving up to the monsoon of pleasure that wipes through your entire body. Your toes curl, muscles strained with the force of your orgasm as you hold him as close as possible with your legs. Matty curses, plowing into as he nears his own end. Even though you feel out of this world, you are acutely aware of everything about him; the way he pants and the rivulets of sweat that are beading down his chest, the beautiful moans that come from his bitten-red lips.

"Gonna come, can I come inside?" His desperation is making him whiny, and if you were less fucked out you would poke fun at the tone you know he would hate, but all you can think about is having his hot come fill you up.

"Yes, please! Need it Matty." A sliver of overstimulation starts to overwhelm your easy pleasure but you endure through it as you feel his cock twitch heavily inside of you before he leans into you, face buried into your shoulder as he comes. Although you mourn the loss of the face he makes, you get a beautiful sample of the moans that overtake him when he comes. The sound takes your breath away alongside the feeling of him filling you to the brim, so forcefully that you feel yourself shudder with another small orgasm as he finishes with a few more tiny thrusts of his hips. You gasp for air, immediately grappling for him to wrap your arms fully around his back.

He falls into you easily, his own chest heaving as his cock softens inside of you. You hear rather than feel him kissing over the plane of your shoulder as you float in and out of focus, exhausted and most likely dehydrated from this and the night before. Unintelligible speech rumbles against your skin, and Matty must realize that your lack of response means you aren't quite there, as he leans up onto his elbows.

You smile when you see him, face flushed and eyes heavy with fatigue.

"Handsome," you finally speak the word you held back last night and he laughs heartily as he cups your jaw as if examining you to look for damages before placing a kiss onto your lips; short and sweet and grounding.

"Glad you finally caught up, love. It was getting exhausting being the only one in the house who thought so."

You roll your eyes, finally coming back to yourself and reality.

"Last time I'll ever compliment you." Giggles continue to wrack his body as he slowly pulls out of you. The gush of your mixed arousal coming out of you makes you whine, sure that you had just ruined your sheets.

Matty looks guilty as you finally make eye contact again and you just wave him off, sitting up slowly as he flops onto the bed beside you. He looks up at you, reverently, and you blush.

"Stop that, please. Stop." Your voice is still scratchy but you can't fight the smile on your face, the undeniable hope that this wasn't just a one time freak accident.

"Stop looking at how pretty you are? Especially with that just got choked and fucked within an inch of my life glow? Nah." He casually pushes his hair off of his forehead and your body betrays your rolling eyes with a new stir of arousal.

"Seriously, though. You're hot. And pretty, and gorgeous and so fucking dirty in all the best ways."

"Stop before I barf, Matthew." You try to be petulant but can't resist his cute grabby hands as he settles you down next to him, petting gently at your temple.

"But thanks," you finally squeak out, feeling tremendously tired and satisfied as you yawn. "For being cool and doing all that and, like, not running away from me after." You feel him stiffen slightly before he goes lax again.

"Love, if I'm running anywhere, it's over to my room for us to have a clean bed to do this again."

#Matty Healy #Matty Healy x reader #Matty Healy smut #matty healy oneshot #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 #matty x reader #the 1975 x reader #flatmate!matty

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