#despite constantly being spit on for trying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jlheon · 7 months ago

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౨ৎ — who ru ? (lhs)

pairing. situationship! lee heeseung x fem! reader synopsis. enha try to figure you out genre. fluff & est. relationship at end wc. 2069 notes. ft. enhypen library.

none of heeseung’s members knew your name.

which was ironic since they saw you nearly every day off they had. usually passing by heeseung’s slightly ajar door and taking a double take after seeing a female figure, then realizing it's just you, and wondering if you were heeseung's girl-friend or girlfriend.

they had grown used to your presence in the almost six months of you constantly around their home. yet nobody could ever figure out your name and who you were.

despite running into you in the dorms multiple times none of the six had ever muttered anything more than a mere ‘hi’ or ‘sorry’ while passing.

they always saw you around the dorms at least two times a week. though never once did they recall seeing you enter or leave. their eldest never brought you up, feeding into the idea you were some imaginary person.

heeseung was good at everything, including sneaking you in and out.

all of them being scared to say anything to you. acting like your identity was classified when they could just ask heeseung or you who you were.

but of course, riki loved to make anything and everything into a competition.

after betting with his hyungs’ on who could figure out your name first, he spotted you in the house, residing in heeseung’s lap while he did some work on his computer. face buried in his neck while he typed away.

riki camped out in the bathroom, with the door open, pretending to be cleaning the mirror. scrubbing the same corner repeatedly for almost ten minutes, waiting for you to use the bathroom. surely you would need to get up soon.

when he concluded that he couldn’t clean the mirror forever, he picked up his toothbrush and brushed his teeth.

after brushing his teeth for a solid three minutes his plan was finally set into action.

“hi riki,” you knocked on the open door. “how long do you need to brush your teeth for?”

“howdoyouknowmyname-” he spit out the toothpaste in shock.

“riki, i’m here all the time,” you replied. “and you’re also a famous idol.”

“oh yeah..” he wiped his face with a towel from the counter. “why don’t i know your name though.”

“you’ve never asked,” you shrugged your shoulders at the younger boy covered in toothpaste. “do you mind if i wash my face, i think you’ve brushed your teeth thoroughly enough.”

“yeah of course,” riki set his toothbrush back in its holder and moved towards the door.

“you missed a spot by the way,” pointing to your chin to show where the toothpaste was left on him, lightly shutting the door.

riki’s plan had failed.

the next to try and talk to you was jake.

he was confident that he could get your name out if you. maybe he’d even be good enough to figure out if you were heeseung’s girlfriend or not.

it was the day after riki had run into you in the bathroom. since it was their break before the long comeback season jake knew that you would probably be sleeping over. giving him the perfect opportunity to ask heeseung and you if you both wanted to eat ramen with him.

once the time on his phone read 11:15 he knocked on heeseung’s door.

“come in,”

“hi,” jake opened the door. “i was wondering if you wanted ramen, her too..”

this was perfect. surely heeseung would call you by name when he asked if you were hungry. everyone would owe him dinner for the week.

you and heeseung were on his bed. you cuddled up into his side while you both watched tiktoks on his phone.

“baby are you hungry?” heeseung leaned down next to your ear.

baby was not your name. jake frowned.

“no i’m okay hee,” you mumbled. “you can go eat though.”

he kissed your forehead before getting up from his bed to follow jake to the kitchen.

jake’s plan had also failed, but the fact heeseung had called you a pet name gave him some idea that you weren't just a friend.

the uprise of interactions with the members confused you. they went from running away from you and avoiding looking at you every time you were within six feet of them to constantly seeking you and heeseung out. though it relieved you in a way since you were convinced that heeseung had strictly told them to act as if you didn't exist in the months you had spent together.

you and heeseung were in fact not an item, even though you both wished you were. you've known him since his nerdy bowl cut days in middle school, you weren't close before but after running into you years later that changed.

you knew that he had become an idol, it was hard not to notice when you saw his face on ads. never listening to his group but being able to recognize him if you were asked.

one day when you were on shift, at your then job as a barista at a small place. you had recognized him as you took his order. you didn't want to sound like an obsessed fan if he didn't remember you, so you simply bit your tongue the entire time. he had decided to tip you for bringing him his drink, which made you even more on edge when he left a stray napkin on his table with his number.

after that incident it was clear he recognized you from school, which was more worrying than relieving as he started to show up to your work even more.

eventually, his visiting you at work was not ideal anymore as he stuck out like a sore thumb with how tall he was paired with the black mask and sunglasses he never dared to take off.

alas, he had asked you to hangout somewhere else. now you no longer worked at that cafe and spent all of your free time off from classes being snuck into a kpop boy-group dorm to hang out with a boy who acted like your boyfriend but wasn't. awesome!

after your first encounters with riki and jake everyone followed after.

jay came in to ask if you had any allergies because he was making some lunch, again heeseung addressed you as anything but your real name.

two days later sunoo had sat down next to you on the living room couch and offered you a face mask. you nodded and you guys spent an hour together as heeseung and jay were gone filming for a variety show. right as sunoo was finally confident you guys were casual enough to ask you for your name heeseung walked in.

you jumped up from the couch making your way over and throwing yourself at him. holding onto him like a koala when he picked you up. he greeted sunoo, and brought you all the way to his room. shutting the door behind him.

you didn’t even get the chance to thank sunoo for hanging out with you.

within the same hour jungwon had barged into heeseung’s room, the door banging against the wall.

“jungwon what the hell!” heeseung scolded, though keeping his voice at a whisper. “don’t you know to knock?”

“this is me exercising my leader privileges,” jungwon crossed his arms and fixed his posture.

“you could have woken her up..” heeseung stroked your hair, as you laid passed out on his chest.

“woken who up?” jungwon said mischievously, heeseung had to say your name now.

“don’t act dumb, you can literally see her sleeping.” heeseung deadpanned.

you started to shuffle in your sleep, beginning to wake up.

“hee?” you grumbled.

“it’s nothing, baby,” he answered. “just go back to sleep.”

heeseung sent jungwon a glare, shooing him out of the room. so much privacy for having only single room.

right when you thought it was over, it was finally sunghoon’s turn to figure you out. he contemplated creating a list of names that you kind of looked like and just shouting them throughout the house until you answered to one.

but after hearing jungwon explain how heeseung looked like he was about to chase him out of the dorm onto the street after he woke you up, sunghoon decided against his original idea.

he was sat on his bed for almost an hour thinking about what he could do.

he concluded he should just be straightforward and ask you already. why hadn’t anyone else just asked you?

he let out a horrendous evil laugh that sunoo had given him a weird look for as sunghoon thought about how his plan was foolproof. he was about to be picking dinner every night for everyone.

sunghoon created a list in his head from what he gathered from all the other boys' failed attempts :

knock LIGHTLY on the door

make sure he is not interrupting anything

ask you NOT heeseung

get that free dinner

he waited for everyone to get to their rooms after dinner to make his way to the eldest’s room. you surely couldn’t have possibly fallen asleep yet as the sun had only just set. using his right hand, he softly knocked on the door. heeseung opened the door enough to show you sitting at his desk.

“hoon?” heeseung questioned.

“i have a question.” sunghoon said firmly, keeping his chin up high, making himself look cocky in the process.

“shoot,” heeseung replied dryly, yawning at the end of his sentence.

“not for you,” sunghoon recalled the list floating around in his head, he pointed at you. “for her.”

overhearing their exchange, you took your attention away from the game you were playing on heeseung’s computer and spun the chair towards sunghoon. heeseung had no choice but to move aside and let the boy in as you had already taken note of his presence.

“what’s your name? oh, and are you heeseung’s girlfriend?” he smiled, fist-bumping himself in his head as he finally did what the others couldn’t.

“i’m ____,” you grinned, finally happy someone had asked you directly like you and heeseung were hoping for. “i don’t know about the girlfriend part though.”

“____ i swear i was just about to talk to you about that soon-”

“i’m kidding hee!” you giggled. “i don’t understand why it took you guys so long, i’m always here.”

“i don’t know either,” heeseung agreed.

“yeah right. you strictly told us not to look at her the first time jake caught her inside the dorm,” jay said as he walked into the room.

one by one the rest of the group filtered into the room. sunghoon gives a whole speech about how he is truly the smartest and the first thing he wants for dinner is steak. which was nothing different from the usual but he was happy that he got to decide. the whole group talked for a few hours in heeseung’s bedroom.

once heeseung saw you yawn he quickly got up and ushered all the guys to get out as you were tired. while he was busy forcing riki to leave you collapsed on his bed and waited for him to join you.

“so girlfriend huh?” you teased as he climbed into the empty spot next to you.

he scratched the back of his head with a nervous laugh before turning off the lamp on his bedside table. when the lights were off and you could barely make out each other's faces in the dark he spoke up.

“can i be your boyfriend?” he asked, his voice dripping with gentleness. he snuck an arm under your head and pulled you towards his chest.

“i mean i guess so,” you joked, causing heeseung to tickle your sides.

you squirmed in his grip trying to bite him until he finally gave it a rest.

you tilted your head up towards his trying to find his lips to give him a short kiss. ultimately missing due to the darkness and kissing his chin instead. the both of you giggled. heeseung then used his free hand to trace around your face to find your lips, bringing his head down to finally connect your lips to his.

the last thing you remembered before drifting off was the sound of heeseung lulling you to sleep with a song he had been working on for their upcoming album.

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mrshesh · 1 year ago

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i saw on your rules that you don’t write hardcore nsfw, so im gonna try to stay tame LOL

how would ghost be in bed? i feel like im so conflicted about this topic

ghost in bed - simon "ghost" riley x reader

overview: how simon "ghost" riley would be like in bed

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gender neutral reader, romantic

genre: smut, fluff

a/n: i'm actually so passionate about this topic. he's very misrepresented in our fandom, so i'd like to give my two cents regarding this topic. thanks for the request, anon!

TW! mentions of SA, abuse, suicide, and torture. proceed with caution.

Contrary to popular belief, he is not the rough dom everyone makes him out to be. He wouldn’t slap or spit on you. He wouldn’t push your head into the mattress and call you the filthiest words that come to mind - no, he’d be gentle, careful, and loving.

Simon has been through hell and back - he knows what it feels like to be hurt better than anyone. Physically, verbally, emotionally, and psychologically, you name it! He knows it all, so he doesn’t get off on it.

His past is extremely gut-wrenching. He got betrayed by everyone, even his own team. He got tortured for months and months on end, to the point where he got severe PTSD and anxiety. He suffers from nightmares and panic attacks and has even tried to take his own life. We also know that he got SA’d in the past, in the months he got gravely tortured. (Reading the comic was seriously terrifying.)

The fact that his father was abusive isn’t helping his case, either.

And on top of that, he dislikes exposing his body and face.

So best believe he’s only sleeping with you when you fully trust each other.

And when he does have sex with you, my god, it’s gentle.

He loves missionary and sitting cowgirl. Being able to hold you close, look you in the eyes, kiss your cheeks, and press his forehead against yours - those things he’d do during sex, not choke you till you pass out.

He has lost everything he has ever loved, so losing what he loves the most, you, is out of the question for him. And that results in him being extremely cautious while having sex. He’s terrified of scaring you away.

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear constantly. “I love you so much.” “Takin’ me so well.” “You’re so beautiful.”

His face is redder than a tomato. Having intimacy with someone he loves is a pretty new thing to him, so his cheeks are painted a light pink from the get-go.

The aftercare consists of soft kisses, compassionate touches as he cleans you up, and praise, so much praise.

The moral of the story - he's a gentle giant who's absolutely terrified to lose you, despite his hard rock exterior.

this turned dark really quick, but it had to be said.

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blitzyn · 1 year ago

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pervert

miguel o'hara x spiderman!reader

request : none

Synopsis: A game of cat and mouse goes to shit, and you find yourself bound in Miguel's webs.

a/n -> literally nobody asked for this but he's been stuck in my mind for decades and i wanted to get something out for my bbg <3 also super sorry i disappeared again, writers block straight up bitch slapped me and left me in a ditch, plus ive been losing interest in writing for genshin or just the game in general, unfortunately.

wc -> 3.3k

cw -> very dubcon, mean dom miguel, degradation, bondage?, face fucking, google translated spanish, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex, slight and brief choking, (semi) public sex??, not beta read

Exhilaration filled your veins as breathy laughs escaped your throat, weaving through buildings and rubble with the precision of someone who has experienced this type of chase countless times before.

And that's because you have. You've been in a near never-ending game of cat and mouse with the esteemed Miguel O'Hara, always close enough to feel the swipe of his talons in the air but too far to catch. No matter how many times he's cornered you, you always find a way to get past him; it was predictable at this point.

That pissed Miguel off like no other, hellbent on capturing you to put an end to your snide remarks, to put you in your place. While that usually would've enticed you in any other circumstance, you weren't too keen on letting him dig his claws into you now that you were chest-deep in this predicament — and his wrath.

"Stop running, already!" he shouted, the sharp edges of fury evident in his voice.

"I'm not running!" you respond, peering back at him with a smug grin. True to your words, you, quite literally, were not running. You were swinging with the agility of a seasoned acrobat, twisting and flipping through debris while looking like you were having fun. You offered him occasional glances and nearly laughed each time. Seeing him, a grown-ass man, almost constantly on all fours was amusing, but hearing him curse and grunt and growl made electricity shoot down your spine in a way that nearly got you caught several times.

Adrenaline filled your body and threatened to burst through your chest each time you evaded him. "Missed me!" you laughed, juking away from his swipe.

"So close!" you flip over him with a taunt. "Try again next time!"

"¡Voy a matarte!¹" He growls, and it was hard to ignore the shudder that rushed through your body. You slightly winced at the feeling. If you don't get your shit together when he spoke Spanish, then you were asking to get caught.

But it's not like you'd mind — Actually, yes, you fucking would!

You click your teeth in annoyance. Despite how hard you tried, you couldn't remove Miguel from your thoughts even though he was right behind you, hunting you down like a wild animal. Your mind strayed toward his broad shoulders, beautifully tiny waist, fat ass (that you'd give a lot to slap), and the massive piece of rubble being hurled at your body.

You blink out of your stupor, feeling your senses going off rather violently. Oh shit.

Everything seemed to move painfully slow as you stared at the debris with wide eyes, noticing Miguel's red web attached to it as he brought it down. You flung your arm out in an attempt to attach your webs to something and swing away, but was unable to pull yourself fast enough as the debris pinned you down to the roof of a building.

"Fuck!" you thought as you grunted and squeezed your eyes shut, agony tearing through your entire body. Swiftly, you pushed against the ground to shove the heavy object off of you, groaning with effort. Just as you managed to stand back up, you heard the familiar thwip! of his web wrapping around your waist and arms to yank you to him.

"Caught you," he said, voice rough and breathless as he panted hard. He loomed over you menacingly, hands curled into a fist.

You struggled, kicking and straining against your binds. "Come on, Miguel." You offer a tense grin. "We both know this won't last very long."

"Ay dios míos,²" he growled, dropping to a knee to roughly press a hand on your face, his fingers digging into your cheekbones. "¡Cállate!³"

...

Woah.

You stared at him with wide eyes, feeling your cock stir in your pants. Oh fuck.

It was hard to ignore your ever growing attraction (and hard-on) for him that seemed to intensify when he deactivated the hologram of his mask. Sweat beaded at his temple while his eyes narrowed at your bound figure, fangs peeking out from behind his lips as he caught his breath.

Even when you were the target of his anger, he was still breathtakingly hot.

You opened your mouth again to shout at him — probably to let you go or something along those lines — but Miguel wasn't having it.

"Why is it so much to ask for you to keep your fucking mouth shut for once?" he hissed, squeezing your cheeks tight enough to ache, but it only went straight to your dick. "Is that all you can do? Run your mouth until someone gets sick of your shit and shuts it for you? Huh?"

You whimpered, meekly shaking your head in denial. Tightly closing your eyes, you swallowed hard and squirmed, secretly trying to will away your hard cock straining against your clothes.

"You're so annoying! Stop moving," he demanded, reflexively looking down to adjust his position over you. His eyes raked over your body for a moment before zeroing in on your erection, pausing in surprise.

...

"Oh, you pervert."

Your eyelids snapped open at his words, mortification seeping deep in your chest as you shifted your head away from him in shame. Despite everything, you could only feel yourself getting harder under his intense gaze.

"Is that why you made me chase after you?" He forced you to look at him again, your face aching at his manhandling. "Because you wanted to fulfill some dirty fantasy of yours?"

He let out a dry laugh. "You couldn't find anyone willing to satisfy that depraved urge, so you turned to me. Just how desperate are you?"

You shook your head again, letting out muffled words. He mercifully removed his hand from your mouth to allow you to speak, sliding lower to rest on your throat. "I was just playing..."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head mockingly, momentarily adjusting himself to grope your painfully stiff dick. "And this was your master plan? To get off at the face of danger? You're more of a degenerate than I thought."

"N-No, I didn't—" you moaned, reflexively bucking your hips up into his hand.

"Stop lying." He squeezed the hand around your throat just enough to force labored gasps from you. "It's stupid how you don't think I've seen the way you look at me — how you think I haven't noticed you eyefucking me."

A furious blush rises on your cheeks as your cock twitches in his hold. It doesn't go unnoticed.

He laughed again, staring at you in mock disbelief. "You're enjoying this."

And this time, you don't deny it.

"Can't say I expected anything higher from you." He rolled his eyes in exasperation and removed his hands from your throat and dick to place them on your thighs. Effortlessly, he pried them apart to slot himself in between your legs, pressing his crotch flush against your ass.

Groaning, you lifted your hips a bit in an attempt to grind on him. With a growl, he swiftly slapped a hand on your abdomen to push you back on the ground.

"Don't move," he said, glaring at you with a mix of arousal and irritation in his eyes. "I've had enough of you getting your way." He leaned forward, a wince crossing your face when he pressed some of his weight onto your stomach. "It's my turn."

"My way—?" You cut yourself off with a huff when he gave you a stern look.

A thought seemed to pique his interest when he suddenly decided to kneel beside your head. It was nigh impossible to tear your eyes away from his crotch, the area beginning to glitch with a dim, pale blue glow at the strain from his hardening cock.

"Let's put your mouth to better use." He grabbed a fistful of your hair and deactivated the hologram covering his dick. It landed on your face with a quiet slap before his hand guided it to your lips.

You hesitantly parted them, only for them to be forced open wider to make room for his cock. You let out a surprised sound at the entry, but he was entirely focused on making you take him completely.

He was gracious enough to take it slow, relishing in the sounds of your gags and sputters and every deep inhale.

"Thaaat's it," he drawled out, sighing heavily when he felt your tongue rub against the underside of the shaft. "Fuck..."

Your eyelashes fluttered as he buried your nose into his pubic hair, uncontrollably drooling over him while you sucked and licked what you could. You felt him harden in your mouth, forcing himself deeper into your throat while it tightened and spasmed.

He increased the speed of his thrusts, absentmindedly shuffling closer to your face. A shiver ran down your spine when he slithered a hand on the junction between the back of your head and neck to hold you firmly.

A garbled whine left your throat as you subconsciously jerked your hips upwards, searching for some form of relief for your aching cock. You strained against the webs around your torso and arms, utterly intoxicated with his taste, his scent, his sounds—with him.

With a groan, he shoved himself as far as he could inside your throat and held you in place, ignoring how you instinctively struggled against him. A high-pitched ring sounded through your ears as your head spun, chest tightening with the need for oxygen.

Shuddering, he finally pulled out of you, watching with satisfaction as you coughed and gasped for air. A mix of saliva and precum connected your lips and the tip of his cock, to which you quickly licked away. You let him inspect you with a hand still buried in your hair, gaze locked in on your drool slicked chin and swollen lips.

A quiet hmph left him before he turned to place himself back in-between your thighs again, this time extending his talons to tear a path in your clothes from your ass to your crotch.

"H-Hey! Hold on—" you protested and kicked his arm away from you.

"Shut up," he cut you off, swatting your foot away while grasping your painfully hard cock again. "Don't act like you don't want this."

"G-God..." you moaned, furrowing your brows as you stared at him. A squeak left your throat when he suddenly pressed your legs to your chest, a quiet ptuh! escaping his lips alongside a glob of saliva that landed on your asshole.

Retracting his talons, he let go of one of your legs to press two fingers against your hole, shoving them inside you abruptly. You winced at the sting his thick fingers made as it mixed in with the arousal that burned in your gut. He separated them in a scissoring motion, moving in and out at a pace that had you yearning for more. His fingertips brushed against spots so frustratingly close to your prostate, you were sure he was purposefully avoiding it to mess with you.

"H-Hurry up," you demanded, the ache in your balls beginning to prove to be something you could hardly handle.

He gave you a sharp look. "Tell me to hurry up again and I'm leaving you like this."

You stared at each other for a moment longer before you looked away in defeat, muttering under your breath. He ignored you and added another finger, the wet squelching blending in with your soft moans. His hard cock pressed on your thigh, and you briefly wondered how he wasn't fucking you within an inch of your life already.

Quickly enough, you were able to realize that he wanted to make you wait. He wanted to give you a hard time — just like you did to him.

"C-C'mon, Miguel." You breathlessly chuckled, straining against the webs around your torso.

"What?" He raised a brow, satisfaction seeping into his expression at your growing desperation.

You opened your mouth again when he unexpectedly jabbed his fingertips onto your prostate, sending a violent surge of electricity through your body. "Fuck!" You cried out as a spurt of precum leaked out of your dick and enlarged the wet spot on your clothes. He continued targeting the gland, refusing to let you get a word in your sentence. The coil in your abdomen tightened into an almost unbearable degree before he abruptly removed his hand from you entirely.

"God, just fuck me already!" You jerked your hips upwards in a futile search for stimulation.

"You sound just like a whore," he commented, tone full of condescension. A heat washed over your body at his words as you stared at him with wide eyes. You tensed when he leaned down, lust and mirth swirling within his red irises. "Is that all you are?"

"What?" You found yourself unable to look away from him. "N-No, I—"

He shoved his cock inside you mid-sentence, tearing a loud moan from your throat. He held your thighs to fold you in half, using his body weight to pin you down. You panted hard as you tilted your head to the side and squeezed your eyes shut. It was hard to focus on anything else but his dick filling you up so perfectly.

Miguel released a gutteral groan, grinding his hips against you. He dug his fingertips into your legs hard enough to bruise, but that was the least of his worries — not when he had you below him. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he leaned back (mercifully removing some of the pressure on your chest) and watched himself move in and out of you, pulling out almost all the way before he slammed himself back inside.

"Ohh, fuck!"

"This is what gets you — mierda⁴ — all compliant, huh?" He taunted, abdomen flexing with every thrust. "The moment you get some dick inside you, you're like a trained mutt."

You opened your eyes to weakly glare at him, to deny what he said, but the moans spilling from your lips did nothing but prove him right.

"Te gusta cuando te trato como si no fueras nada, ¿no?⁵" He leaned back down, hooking his arms around the back of your knees as he pressed his chest against yours, curling his wrists around your thighs to grip the flesh. His breath was hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, lips so close you could feel the vibrations of his voice in your ear drum. "Aren't I right, you dirty little pervert?"

"N-No! S'not right!" You cried out, the burn of his cock stretching you out mixing in with the pleasure so deliciously it was almost addicting.

"Deja de mentirte y admítelo, puta,⁶" he hissed, widening his mouth to graze a fang along your neck threateningly, which sent a shiver down your spine. "Admit it — that you're a depraved whore."

"Admit it." He emphasized each syllable with a thrust, ramming into you hard enough to fuck the breath out of your lungs.

"Shit—fuck! Oh, god!" You sobbed, arching your back into him. You nearly came at the feeling of his abdomen rubbing your aching dick. "I'm a whore! M'your whore!"

His cock throbbed fervently at your words, rewarding you with groans and grunts directly into your ear. Your ass slightly stung at the force of his thrusts as he fucked his anger into you, but neither of you cared.

"Fuuuck!" You drawled out. "Miguel, m'so close! Let — ngh, ah — Let me cum!"

"Yeah?" He cooed in your ear, gently licking the shell. "You gonna cum f'me?"

"Yes, yes—!"

"Then beg."

He stopped moving so unexpectedly that it left you disoriented for a few moments as you stupidly stared at him with wide, watery eyes. "W-What...?"

"Beg to cum," he leaned away from you to get a clearer look at your face. "I'm not repeating myself."

You took a moment to catch your breath (and secretly savor the feeling of his dick twitching inside you). "God, please, Miguel! I need it so bad. I need to cum — please let me cum! I'll be good, I promise! Fuck, Miguel, please let me cum! Please, please, please!"

The sight of the tears along your lash lines sent electricity down his spine as his breath hitched. "You'll be good?" He dryly laughed. "I don't think I believe you."

You opened your mouth in defense when he suddenly slammed himself back inside you, tearing a moan instead of words from your throat. He fucked you hard and fast and deep, grunting in a way you could only describe as animalistic.

But you loved it. You loved how he controlled your body so effortlessly, how he treated you like a cheap fuck toy. You mentally deemed all those chases worth it in the end.

The heat from less than a minute or two prior returned full force as you tilted your head back in ecstasy. You babbled out incoherent words of (what Miguel suspected to be) praise, straining against your binds once again.

You screamed out when the coil in your abdomen finally snapped, electricity shooting down your spine as your cock spurt cum underneath your clothes. You weren't able to process the stain in the fabric when you realized that he hadn't slowed down, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm to chase his own.

You stared up at him, admiring the slight flush on his cheeks, how his brows furrowed in concentration, and even his eyes that shone with disdain towards you.

You could feel his dick throbbing inside you, and you quickly realized that he was about to cum as well. The ecstasy you were granted slowly began to merge with the pain of overstimulation, but it only made the hazy bliss you were in so much better.

"Yes, yes, Miguel!" You gasped out as your legs trembled in his hold. "Cum inside me, please, I want it!"

He grunted at your words, fucking you with a few more harsh thrusts before he suddenly pulled out. It took you a moment longer than normal for you to process the uncomfortable emptiness as he let go of one of your legs to quickly jerk himself off.

"What—No! Please, Miguel!" You pleaded uselessly, wincing when he tightened his grip on your thigh and unintentionally extended his talons. They penetrated through your clothes and pierced your skin, drawing a bit of blood, but that was neither of your concern at the moment.

"Ay, solo cállate ya,⁷" he growled, releasing your thigh to press his palm against your mouth to silence you. You let out pathetic whines and whimpers, but Miguel was focused on achieving his orgasm.

With a final few strokes, he finally came with a loud groan as his cum spurt onto the floor. He angled his hips to make sure none of it landed on you, much to your obvious dismay. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back and stared at your bound body, trembling and helpless. It was satisfying to see you in such a state.

He reactivated the hologram over his softening cock before binding your legs together in a way that hid the large hole in your pants to prevent anyone from figuring out what the two of you did.

He sighed heavily and slung you over his shoulder, standing up to look around and figure out where the fuck he was.

"You have a really nice ass," you commented after a moment, unable to keep your compliments to yourself.

He groaned. It was gonna be a long trip back to HQ.

Translations:

1: "I'm going to kill you!"

2: "Oh my god."

3: "Shut up!"

4: "Shit..."

5: "You like it when I treat you like you're nothing, don't you?"

6: "Stop lying to yourself and admit it."

7: "Oh, just shut up already."

cross-posted on ao3

3K notes · View notes

finniestoncrane · 9 months ago

Text

Date, Digger Style

KTJL!Boomer x Fem!Reader, word count: 6k hi i am sorry, this was supposed to be like. a lil silly thing about what a first date with george might be like. and it ended up being 6k words. i just want him so bad it makes me look stupid quite honestly and i am ok with that 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: sleazy behaviour, groping, tongue kissing, just the tip and then not just the tip but agreeably so, lots of physical affection, reader has tits and a vagina, reader is referred to with feminine pet names, descriptions of a gross kitchen, also let's pretend that he's always a lil bit drunk so his drunk driving seems like the normal state of things. he's a villain. he's allowed to break laws lmao (and it's fiction, so i'm allowed to decide what alcohol does to him)

Sitting on the edge of your sofa, you took a quick look at your phone to check the time and to see if you had missed any messages. Nothing. Not even a quick courtesy text with "on my way" typed hastily, or auto filled. You'd been sitting there for twenty minutes already, with no sign of George. If this was what he considered a good start to your first formal 'date' then you two were perhaps too different after all to make this work. He was laid back, to a flaw. Horizontal. And you were more organised, at least more so than George Harkness.

Just as you began typing out a message, you heard the tell-tale screech of the tyres on his van, followed by the rumbling of the engine as he put the brakes on and came out of the creaking door. The sharp buzz at your door was enough for you to know your suspicions were right, and without answering it, you headed downstairs. At the door, you could see Digger, picking at his teeth and tucking the stray strands of hair back under the rim of his hat before he noticed you and struck a pose, goofy smile plastered onto his face.

He moved to grab you when you met him on the steps leading up to your building, but you dodged him, spitting his nickname at him.

"Digger."

"Aw, are you mad cos I'm late? You're not some bloody princess, I think you can wait five minutes!"

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty, the- Twenty!?"

His eyes were wide as he looked to you, and you offered a solemn and unimpressed nod in response.

"Fuck... alright, that is a bit much. This'll be worth it though, I promise."

Raising an eyebrow, you silently questioned that. You'd known him for a while now, skirted around the conversation, flirted constantly, but turned him down at every offer of a date. And now, when you had finally agreed and given in to his constant pestering, he was going to show up late and not even dressed differently or in clean clothes? You weren't sure it would be worth it. But, if all else failed, you could always count on him to make you laugh, or at very least conjure up a smile. And despite wanting to still maintain an exterior of disappointment, you could feel the corners of your mouth lifting as he opened up the passenger door and gestured to it with his arm, bowing low.

"M'lady, your carriage awaits."

As you stepped up and into the front of the van, the smell was the first thing that hit you. Stale beer, sweat, and about five other scents just indistinct enough to elude your keen nose. Trying not to think about it, you turned to grab your seatbelt and noticed, out of the corner of your eye, that the back of the truck was filled with empty beer cans and bottles, piles of clothing, some dirty and some clean. And in the middle of it all, a mattress, some pillows, and a scattering of sheets.

"Do you live in here?"

"Don't worry about it, babe."

Before you could ask him any follow up questions, he pulled away from the kerb with a stuttering acceleration, and carelessly pulled into traffic. After a few minutes of teeth grinding, life-threatening driving at high speed, he pulled off the main roads and began taking back streets.

Granted, you didn't know where you were going yet, since Digger was insistent on keeping it as a surprise, you still assumed that after ten minutes of nothing but roads dotted with potholes and routes plagued by speedbumps that it was surely quicker to have stayed on the main route until you were closer. However, it became clear that there were intentions behind this path after all, when you turned to question George about the route and found him quickly glancing from the road to your chest, smiling wider every time a bump jostled your body, causing your breasts to jiggle. With a heavy sigh, you turned to look out of the window, concealing the smile that threatened to give away your façade. There was no way you could let him know how oddly flattering you found his constant gawking, that would be a nightmare.

When the van stopped at a red light, you spoke, still looking out of the window, to try and get Digger to tell you where you were going.

"I just would feel better knowing how long we've got left to drive is all."

He reached over to you, placing his hand on your thigh and pressing his fingers and thumb together, squeezing the ample flesh.

"Listen, don't worry about it, we're almost there."

His palm pressed down and skimmed further up your leg, and as you turned to catch his eye, hoping to at least shame him into not continuing his bold heavy petting, you were instead met with his lopsided, careless grin. With one hand on the steering wheel and one permanently on your thigh, he continued driving for another ten minutes, until you were well on the outskirts of the city. When the van finally stopped, you could still hear the tinny rumbling and sharp clinking of the empty bottles and cans bashing around in the back, feeling like it had shrilly inserted itself permanently into your head. But once you had stepped out of the van and the fresh air, plus the odd stench, hit you, you could hear yourself think clear enough to know that you were definitely beginning to regret this decision once more.

"Told ya we wouldn't be much longer! We're here!"

"Where is here?"

"About twenty minutes outside Gotham."

"Digger."

He slapped his hand on your back and pulled you into a side hug, dragging you along as he walked towards the door of the flat roof building with broken neon lights that stood in front of you.

"Ah, come on babe! Get a sense of humour, or you'll always look fuckin' miserable!"

You weren't sure if he could hear your sighing over the sound of the gravel as you made your way to the front door, and he definitely couldn't hear the louder second one you let out when you got inside. The one that was cut short when you realised you could taste the smell that lingered on the air.

Taking your hand, an oddly gentle move from Digger. The moment was gone quickly when he smacked your ass as he ushered you into the dingiest looking booth at the back of the bar.

"George, really? Here?"

"Yeah, babe! This place is great. Cheap beer, good food. I promise, you just gotta trust me, alright?"

Taking a quick look around the place told you otherwise. But there was just something about him you found hard to say no to. Which you imagined would land you in much bigger problems later on, but for now, potential food poisoning and a hangover of the worst order seemed like a fair risk for what would no doubt be a fun night regardless. It always was with George.

"Aw, I know that face! You're on board! Right, I'm gonna go to the bar and get us some drinks and food."

"I don't know what I want though, I haven't looked at the menu."

"Don't have to, I'm getting us the usual. You'll like it, tr-"

"Trust you, yes, I know."

With a wink, he slid out of the booth and you watched him make his way to the bar, leaning on it with his oh-so-cocky attitude as he ordered for you. And when he sat back down, he slid a pint in front of you and began chugging at his own. Looking over the tip of your glass as you sipped, you tried to get a glimpse at the kitchen. From what you could see, it looked like the kind of place that might give any decent health inspector an aneurysm. The chef's clothes were dirty, the walls were a stained yellow colour that seemed as though it was dripping down the walls, and every surface had a strange assortment of crumbs and stains on it. But still, you persevered.

And still, when the plates were slammed down on the table in front of you by the uninterested waitress, you were optimistic. Because you were determined to have a nice time. It was likely that which annoyed you the most of all, because the moment you bit into the greasy sandwich you didn't care in the slightest what kind of health hazard it was prepared in. You just wanted more.

"See, told you it was good."

Nodding in agreement, mouth too full to speak, you swallowed down the rest of the sandwich, although by the time you had finished it and your accompanying beer, Digger was already onto his third pint, and the sandwich was but a memory. Until he burped and you could smell it on his breath, something he found hilarious.

"Lighten up! You try, give it your best shot."

"I'm not having a burping contest with you, George. We're on a date."

"Yeah, but you're on a date with Digger. Way more fun, far less stuffy. Go on."

You mustered up the best you had to offer, cheese and beer and lettuce the most noted flavours in the air you expelled. Closing his eyes for a moment, Digger reached out across the table and took your hands.

"That was, without a doubt... the most pathetic fuckin' burp ever. We gotta get you another drink!"

Before you could say anything, he was already shuffling out of the booth and shakily making his way back to the bar. A bad decision being made and you couldn't really stop him. He could handle his alcohol, definitely, you'd seen him do it a number of times before. Digger could put away what might kill a lesser, for want of a better word, man. But it didn't make him any easier to be around. You'd already found yourself flushing hot, cheeks darkening, a heat building in your stomach with each lingering touch or flirtatious stare. So far this evening, you'd almost kissed him twice. It wasn't going to be any easier to prolong what you felt was the inevitable if he got far too drunk and became his usual, handsy self.

Of course, that's exactly what did happen. One more pint in and Digger was all over you in the booth. He'd leaned in at first to say something to you, speaking over the noise of the bar, close to your ear, his arm reaching up and around you and pulling you close and then keeping you there. As his fingers stroked at your shoulder, the other hand fell to your thigh, periodically squeezing it between his fingers and thumb. And every time you got distracted by how far up your thigh he was snaking his palm, fingers splayed out, pinkie grazing over your crotch, his other hand would pull your attention away as his fingertips skimmed over the top of your breasts.

It was difficult to try and hold him off. You were both tipsy, or at least you were tipsy, Digger seemed to be wasted. No good decision could come from that. But the way he touched you, the way he smelled as he leaned in, sweat, cheap body spray, acrid beer, it was intoxicating. If you'd been any less sober you might have leaned in then and there in the booth to kiss him, tasting the alcohol on his tongue, letting him put his hands all over you, anywhere, anywhere. But luckily, before you could make what you knew was a mistake, he sat back and laughed, one loud and sharp 'ha'.

"I fuckin' love this song, babe! C'mon!"

Before you could argue otherwise, you were being dragged out of the booth to join Digger on the tiny dance floor in front of the band. The song was difficult to dance to, at least you had assumed, given the heavy rock riffs that underlined the inaudible, high volume lyrics. But George wasn't deterred. It was almost endearing, how horrendously embarrassing he was, standing there with his air guitar, throwing goat horns at the band as he bounced on the spot. Cute, nearly. But mercifully cut short as the song ended.

"Aw, just as I was finding my groove."

You smiled at him, rubbing his shoulder in sympathy, biting your inner cheek as you felt how strong he was, impressed by his muscular arm as you let your hand slip down to graze over it.

"A real shame, George. Let's go back to- "

The band started up again, this time, a slower song, one that lent itself well to the kind of 'end of prom' vibes all young lovers were hoping for. And before you could finish your suggestion of heading back to the booth, Digger had pulled you close, his arms around your back, falling to your waist as he swayed back and forth. It could have been dancing, it could have been the uncoordinated shuffling of a man who had one too many beers, but either way, you leaned into it, allowing your head to rest against his chest while you placed your hands, linked together, at the nape of his neck.

It was almost too romantic, in its own, strange way. The dim lights, the other couples around you, the unique twang on the guitars, the stench of the greasy food, and the way George kept his hips, his crotch, pressed tight to you as you leaned against him. Not particularly from a storybook romance, but perfect all the same. You'd known this would happen. One date, and you were already falling for him. Not because of anything he'd done, but because deep down you knew you had been into him, since almost the moment you'd met. But you'd fought it, because men like George Harkness, you assumed, weren't the kind of nice boy you dated.

But here he was, holding you, swaying you, sighing softly as the music swelled. Granted the movements weren't exactly graceful, but they were surprisingly fluid, as though he might be good at dancing when he was sober. Yet another surprise for you to learn about, but obviously not right now. He was trying though, his hands at a respectable height, his head leaning on your shoulder. Every so often, he nuzzled into your cheek, placing a soft kiss to it when the notion took him. And when the song finished, you could hear his words clear, spoken gently into your ear.

"You wanna head out?"

You weren't sure if that was "out" as in "get some fresh air" or "out" as in "let's head home, yours or mine" but either option seemed good. The last remaining bit of sun and a soothing breeze might be enough to sober George up before you brought him back in for more dancing. And if it didn't, you were happy to take him to your place for a coffee, nothing more. Although, you were potentially considering letting him sleep on the sofa. You couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to nurse a hangover in the back of his van.

Outside, finally able to breathe without choking on the stench or the thickness of the air, you watched as Digger shielded his eyes from the sky. His stumbling stopped, and he began walking with his usual confidence, almost sobering up immediately in the light of the day.

"Christ! Still pretty bright out here..."

"Yeah, it's not that late. You tapping out early, George?"

"Nah, nah. Not at all! If I've got you for the night, then I'm havin' you for the night. C'mon, I know a place."

Admittedly, and strangely enough, you really hadn't had enough of him yet. It was one of the few things you agreed on, actually. This was supposed to be a date, you'd set aside the evening for it, so you were keen to make it last as long as possible. You couldn't let George know that, though. Keeping the upperhand seemed to be key with him, so you offered him a reluctant smile and rolled your eyes dramatically.

"Well, I suppose so."

Stepping up into the passenger seat of his van you caught him smiling back at you, knowingly. You weren't kidding him, he wasn't as stupid as he seemed at first pass, but he was kind enough to let you keep up the ruse. It didn't stop him getting a little dig in at you, however.

"Are you sure? If you're not keen I can take you home, babe. Wouldn't want you to be bored or something."

"And where are you planning on taking me that isn't boring, then?"

"Eh... just a little spot I know of. Quiet, secluded. Up that back road to the overlook. But again, if you're not into it..."

"No, no. It sounds... well, it doesn't sound boring, anyway."

Digger laughed, starting up the van which groaned horrendously before sputtering to life. Before he drove off, he turned to you and winked.

"Definitely won't be, it never is with me, babe."

Pulling out of the parking lot, he turned away from the city and onto the quieter roads which led out past the city lines and into the expansive countryside that secluded Gotham from the rest of the world. From the window, you watched the sun slowly setting, clouds turning purple and navy as they pushed in from the sides like curtains on a stage show. You had all the time in the world to gaze peacefully, as George was driving in complete silence, way below the speed limit, focusing intensely on the road. He'd seemed to sober up once you were out of the bar, but you didn't want to distract him while he was doing his best to keep you both alive.

The van bounced along a short dirt trail until it stopped in a small clearing, surrounded by trees on all sides and far above the dim, intrusive glow of the city, which buzzed against the now deep, navy sky. Shutting off the engine, George turned and shot you a smile, eyebrows raised playfully, before he leapt out. He walked quickly to the back of the van and you followed, waiting patiently as he opened the two back doors wide, finally giving you a better look at what had been rolling around there the whole time he had been driving.

There wasn't much you could think to say, being of the opinion that you should only speak if you had kind things to say. From where you were standing, you could definitely tell that you had been correct in your earlier assumptions. This was where he lived. His rolling apartment. Convenient, yes. But it was a long way away from being one of the trendy 'tiny homes' you'd seen. The walls were adorned with four posters in total, all of them the kind of cheap standards you would expect in the bargain bin of some ancient music store, miscellaneous women in very little clothing gazing out as seductively as they could from the airbrushed backdrops. On the floor, there was a stick and poke tattoo kit that looked like it might be the source of several new variants of hepatitis, and it was littered with empty beer bottles and cans, some of which may have been half-full at the point he decided to drive off given how sticky the surfaces looked. And to top it off, there was a worn out mattress. No sheets on it, no sheets around it save for one scruffy blanket. It was covered in stains that you couldn't quite place, which matched the single, dented and almost flat pillow that lay haphazardly to the side.

"You live like this?"

That was what you had wanted to say, but again, your polite nature stopped you.

"Handy to just get in the van and sleep, or get out of bed and go."

George smiled, looking oddly proud of himself.

"See, you get it. You won't believe the amount of people who have been put off by- uh... well..."

He looked to the ground, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand.

"Not that there's been that many people I've invited into- A-and not that there haven't been any people that have been-"

"George."

You placed a hand on his shoulder and raised your eyebrows, offering him a sympathetic grin. He took the out, thankful that you'd put an end to his suffering, and reached in for the blanket, placing it flat over the top of the bed before offering his hand to you. Taking it, he helped you shift yourself into the back of the van, watching as you got comfortable on the mattress as best as you could, at which point he joined you.

Leaning back on his arms, he looked to the sky, sitting in silence for a few minutes. You had joined him, watching the stars start to sparkle as they became visible against the darkening backdrop. At some point, you realised that he was staring at you, and you wondered how long you'd had his gaze trained on the side of your head. Not on any other part of your body, you noted. He was looking at your face, gazing at your eyes. When you turned, you caught his stare immediately, smiling softly when he blinked and looked away with a cough meant to clear the air of the awkwardness he was bringing about.

Rooting around behind him, he eventually found two unopened beer cans, both of which were loose amongst the rest of his belongings. Keeping one for himself, he passed the other to you. He raised his, tipping his head with a 'cheers' and then cracked it open. You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, a small trickle of foam slipping past his lips and down his chin. The urge to lean in and lick it off was disturbing, most of all because you felt yourself moving towards him before you even realised it. Settling back down into the strange romance of the moment, you pulled the tab on your own can.

The immediate explosion, the build up of pressure and gasses from the can being jostled around as you drove up the bumpy, dirt track to the spot you now sat in, left you in shock. Your shirt was soaked, completely, and the cool air was already beginning to chill your body. You blinked in shock, watching as Boomer tried to conceal his giggles while he stood up.

"Take your shirt off."

Looking to him, you raised an eyebrow, a look that said "is this really how you're going to make that move?" in a way that he read almost straight away. He began unzipping his blue hoodie, turning from you and passing it behind him, generously, and uncharacteristically, offering you some privacy.

Taking it from him, you quickly made the swap, your body exposed to the cold night air only briefly before you zipped up the hoodie, still warm from Digger's body. You tucked your bra and shirt under the mattress, making a mental note to collect them before you were home, hoping they would be dry. Making sure the zip was up completely, not offering any suggestive cleavage for Digger to hook his ideas into, you settled yourself, noticing that you were smiling. You could smell him on the fabric that covered your body. Beer, sweat, lingering smoke, an acrid smell you couldn't quite place and a sweet one on top of that. As the fabric grazed over you, you could feel your nipples hardening. It wasn't the cold though, it was faint arousal at the way you felt so close to him.

"You done yet, you're only putting a hoodie on!"

"Shit, yeah, sorry."

"I can look?"

He raised his hands, pulling them from his pockets and holding them up to his side, questioningly.

"Mhm, yeah."

When he was facing you again, he let his lips turn into an appreciative expression.

"Looks good. Suits you!"

Thudding back down beside you, George immediately lifted his arm up, wrapping it around your body and pulling you close. You found yourself settling into the hug, a natural embrace, one that made your heart flutter slightly as you let your head rest entirely against him. And then it happened, the moment that secured your confusion about him and his intentions. He sighed wistfully. So deep and joyous, his fingers digging into your arm to let you know you were the reason for the warmth spreading through him.

"It's nice out here, you can actually see the stars. Couldn't tell you what any of them were though."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

He turned slightly to look at you.

"What?"

"What? What are you doing? You brought me up here to look at the stars?"

George narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing in confusion and slight irritation.

"Yeah! I thought it would be romantic!"

"Exactly!"

"Exa-... what?"

"You're so confusing. This whole evening, you yourself, it's not how I thought it would be. I mean, it wouldn't be you without the occasional grope and cheeky wink, but you've been so... You're so... It's weird to see you being so..."

Digger's hand fell to your thigh, a light pressure aiming to calm you down.

"So what?"

You couldn't answer it, because you weren't even able to settle on a definitive answer yourself.

So confusing?

So disgusting?

So gentlemanly?

So romantic?

So hot?

All of that and more.

And when words had failed you, you decided that you'd have to express your feelings another way.

It was less of a romantic, graceful move and more that you sank into him, falling against his body, your lips luckily making contact with his as you both found your way in the kiss. Neither of you expected it, both of you surprised. The tenderness, the hunger behind it. You could taste everything about him, smell him even better than you had when you had put on his hoodie. You expected he was experiencing the same.

Digger fell back, his hands catching your waist as he pulled you with him, both of you laying now on the mattress in the back of his van. His hands pawed, grabbed, skimmed over you, oddly restrained in fact. That was until you shifted yourself up and onto him, straddling his hips and staring down at him, panting heavily as you both caught your breath and took stock of the situation you were now in. His hands on your waist made their way up to your shoulders, your neck, cupping your cheeks as he grinned at you. Watching your face, your expression, for any subtle changes as he let his hands trail back down your front, fingers catching on to the zip of his hoodie and pulling it down slowly, opening it to expose you to him before he cupped at your breasts as you bit your lip.

"Fuck me..."

Digger let out a low groan that followed his short, to the point statement. His fingers circled your nipples, tightening around them as he teased you. His hips bucked up, jostling you, letting you feel how hard he was. You could tell just from that motion that the rumours about how gifted he was had truth behind them.

Bending down to kiss him again, you let your tongue slip past his lips, his own meeting in your mouth. He tasted divine. Sweet, but acidic. Earthy almost, definitely addictive. Everything felt dream like, surreal. Mostly, you assumed, because you were doing something you'd never dream of, something you knew was ill-advised, a little bit silly, embarrassing in the right company. But it was hard to care.

You were quickly brought out of the dream like state however, as you felt Digger's hands between both of your crotches, unbuckling his belt and fiddling with the zipper on his jeans.

"Wait... on the first date? You think you've charmed me enough for that?"

With the smug, self-satisfied grin you had grown oddly fond of, George looked into your eyes as he spoke.

"I think you started this, so it's a pretty good indication of how much I've charmed you."

He winked as he let his fingers tug at the waistband of your own pants, pulling at them as you leaned in to another kiss. Your attempts to stop him, or at least to pretend that was your intention, were put to one side as your body reacted to the feeling of the cool air against your bare skin, his hands, rougher than you expected, holding your thighs, pulling your pants down further until he needed you to move.

"Well... have I charmed the pants off you at least?"

Smiling back at him, you nodded your head from side to side as though you were weighing up his efforts over the evening.

"I suppose you have charmed the pants off me, yes. But... I'm not sure how much further your winning personality has gotten you."

"There's plenty of time for me to catch up, then."

Clumsily, and with very little grace, you shifted and removed your pants, blushing as you noticed Digger watching you intensely, taking note of every movement, every second of you undresssing, as though you were offering him the performance of a lifetime. As you steadied yourself, he hooked his fingers into the band of your underwear and pulled you back to him, landing you flat on top o f his body, your hands on his chest.

Teasing at the band of your panties, he dipped two fingers underneath the fabric, skating over your mound and down to your lips, stroking them gently before spreading them apart. He rubbed one finger up and down, collecting your slick as he licked his lips, desperate to know how you tasted. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he ran them on his tongue, sucking them with his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me."

He continued unzipping his pants and pulling them down, boxers included, to reveal his more than impressive cock. At least ten inches, easily, thick, perfect, topped with a tuft of almost flaming red hair. Trying to control yourself, you leaned back.

"What are you planning on doing with that, Harkness?"

He squirmed, pressing his eyes shut and biting his lip before he managed to strain himself enough to speak.

"I just want... I want you... touch it... feel you... something... come on, please!"

Shuffling forward, teasing him knowingly as you felt his head, his length, against your thighs, you mused out loud, humming as though you were actually considering it, as though you hadn't already made your mind up yet.

"I suppose... this was a pleasant enough date. I could give you something, throw you a bone."

He nodded furiously below you, muttering his words of agreement.

"But! Just the tip. I'm not sure how much more of that I could take. It should come with a warning."

George actually blushed, looking away from you for a moment, as though the comment had genuinely embarrassed him. It did seem odd to you in that moment that he wasn't constantly bragging about his prowess in that area. He struck you as exactly the kind of person who would mention the size of his cock at any opportunity. You wondered if had the effect on others that it had on you. It was daunting, a little bit nerve-wracking. How many of the few people who had made it this far had given up at the sight of it, you wondered.

Most, you assumed, as despite how desperate he seemed to fuck you, he agreed enthusiastically, happy to be offered any opportunity to get as close to you as possible. He was already pulling at your underwear, grasping at it, trying to pull it down before deciding to push it to the side as he lined up the head of his cock with your swollen lips.

Looking directly at you he maintained the intense eye contact as he slid himself between your lips, pushing at your tight entrance slowly, carefully, only allowing his head to enter you. It felt amazing. So good, better than you thought. It stretched, filled you up, and that was ten percent of what he had to give. He hissed, gritting his teeth in concentration, trying his hardest not to move his hips, to buck them, to push himself any further inside of you.

As you balanced yourself, trying to contend with the little of him that was inside of you, he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it, making you twitch, contracting against him, tightening the grip your cunt had on his head. As he groaned, you couldn't help yourself anymore. You wanted him, all of him. You were willing to risk it.

"God, George... just fuck me."

"Wh-what?"

"Fuck me! Just..."

Realising you might need to take matters into your own hands, you let yourself slide down his cock, each inch stretching you further, a shockwave of pain followed by dull throbs of ache and arousal coarsed through your body, the pit of your stomach feeling pressed, your insides stuffed with him. Llike you were being entirely consumed, enveloped, in George Harkness.

"Christ..."

It was all he could manage with the limited breath he had, his whole body stopping any other function to focus on not letting himself cum inside of you immediatel. The sudden warmth, the tight, wet embrace, the way you leaned back, breasts bouncing as helped yourself to him, riding his cock as he lay back and held your hips. His thumbs, stroking against your skin, where the top of your thighs met your lower stomach, feeling your own desperation as you worked him harder, faster, palms resting on his chest to balance yourself as you took everything he had.

Brows furrowed in concentration, pursuing your orgasm, you wailed as his fingers found their way back to your nipples, teasing them, grabbing at your breasts as you rolled your hips and felt his cock twitching agaisnt your walls. It hurt, but in a way that was delicious, a way that felt like it should be borderline illegal, like most things that provided such a wonderful, addictive experience were. But there you were, enjoying it. Loudly, explicitly. And very publicly. It didn't matter to you, and it really didn't seem to matter to George. You were quite happy to scream it from the rooftops then and there, how much you were enjoying it. Being fucked by Captain Boomerang, as ridiculous as his name always seemed to you. You'd be quite content to tell everyone that he was making you cum, that he was one stroke of his thumb against your erect nipples, one tap of his cock against the exact spot inside of you, from losing all composure.

"George... George..."

"Yeah... yeah, it's good... eh? I'm good."

"Fuck, you are. Yeah. Yes! Yes!"

One final, loud, resounding 'yes' echoed around you, filling the air, bursting through the trees. You imagined that anyone within a five mile radius might have heard Digger coming. His cock, falling from you against his body, still dripping with your slick, still spurting streams of his thick, white cum all over his abdomen, covering his thick pubic hair. His hands, still embedded in your skin, creating deep, red marks where the grip was far too tight, stinging so perfectly pleasantly.

Your own notes of pleasure hadn't exactly been all that much quieter than his own, but still drowned out by the amped up grunting and wailing of George. At least you could hold that saving grace. Allow yourself to cling to that modicum of your dignity.

Because you certainly weren't bothered about any other facets of it, as you slid down beside George on the dingy mattress, curling around his body, hand on his chest, smugly satisfied to know that you had contributed to the stains that would no doubt be a permanent feature.

#captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomer x you #captain boomerang fanfic #finnie writes

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erosology · 2 months ago

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a taste of domesticity | simon "ghost" riley

❀ cw/tw: NSFT, fem reader (afab anatomy, fem pet names), established relationship, american author trying to make an english person's dialogue sound authentic, you'll have to pry blond-haired and brown-eyed simon from my cold dead hands, tooth-rotting fluff, undertones of obsession and codependency (because duh it's me), soft dom simon, thigh riding, body worship, praise, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex

❀ wc: 7,248

❀ a/n: i will never, ever apologize for writing simon as a lovesick slightly pathetic man

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Simon “Ghost” Riley during your time together, it’s that he takes his job very seriously. So seriously, in fact, he’s often too tired to do much other than eat the dinner you’ve prepared him, take a shower, and go straight to bed. Despite his demanding and hectic career path, you both find ways to spend time together—him allowing you to sit in his lap as he does paperwork, you sneaking into the shower as he gets ready for the night, him coming home early and helping you with dinner—all small things to piece together a picture of domesticity and love Simon has craved his entire life.

But sometimes, he thinks, things in the bedroom are a little…lacking.

He only has himself to blame, really, considering he chose a job that demands every bit of strength he has. But there are times when he’s looking at you, your body wrapped in one of his t-shirts and your hair thrown up into a messy bun as you’re curled up on the couch reading, and he wonders if being a butcher is really that bad.

It’s no matter, though, because as insane and hectic as his job might be, he knows, deep down, he wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re a breath of fresh air for the man who is constantly drowning in his desire to be useful, a lighthouse for the man who is constantly swimming in his failures, a safe place for him to strip himself of the wet clothing trying to cling on to this body (much like how his stormy thoughts try to cling on to him) and bask in your warmth. He’s enamored by your compassion, utterly and completely in love with your honesty, and bewitched by your loyalty—a soulmate for someone who has only ever known chaos.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

“We should have lemon garlic shrimp tonight,” you suggest to your partner, leaning against his office door frame in hopes maybe he’d look up.

Simon’s eyes don’t even leave his computer as he asks, “What’s the special occasion, love?”

“You’re home in time for dinner for the first time in a month.”

It’s a small stab, he knows it, but it still hurts nonetheless, and you can see him flinch at the blunt edges of your words. He fists clench and unclench, as if debating if he can physically fight off the sense of guilt wrapping around his broad shoulders, before he saves his report progress and shuts his computer down. His movements are always so methodical, measured, but there’s nothing measured about the way he nearly chokes on his own spit when his eyes land on your outfit. Dressed in nothing but one of his t-shirts, thigh high stockings, and a pair of panties, you look nothing short of absolutely divine, and Simon nearly has to check his pulse to make sure he hasn’t died and gone to heaven.

You gaze at him through your eyelashes, eyelids half-closed in lust and the smallest of smirks on your lips. “S’matter, Si? Cat got your tongue?”

It never fails to astound him how easily you rev him up, how you make him feel like some horny teenager on prom night trying to score with his date–clumsy words spilling from his mouth as he tries his hardest to find the magic words to part your legs, palms sweaty as they try to hold your hand, body vibrating with anticipation to see what your tongue tastes like. He’s so unbelievably attracted to you, it makes his head fuzzy with hormones and irrationality, even after all of this time together.

He’s careful as he walks from his desk to you, strong arms wrapping around your waist and his lips brushing your hair. “Are you my starter?” he asks and pinches your thigh for good measure.

You giggle at the rare show of unabashed flirtation from your normally stoic partner and reply coyly, “I could be your dessert if you behave.” Feeling rather bold, you pull him into the kitchen by his belt, and he has to bite his lip to keep the groan clawing at his mouth at bay. You’re too precious for something as barbaric as fevered kisses and frantic hands eager to rip your clothes off. Valuable crystals deserve only the most tender of hands, the most careful of eyes, handled with the utmost precision and patience, and he’s always considered himself a good gemologist.

“C’mere for a second, love,” he says as you turn your back to get started on dinner. Before you can fully turn towards him, he gently cups your jaw and tilts your face up towards his, lips ghosting each other before he finally slots his against yours. You can feel how eager he is, how much he’s holding himself back so as to not break you, so you wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss that much more. That’s all of the motivation he needs, evidently, and he’s quick to wrap your legs around his waist and place you on top of the kitchen counter. Whatever small grip he had on self-control has snapped—a hungry beast finally let free and allowed to feast however he pleases. He wants to completely devour you and keep you safe in his chest—strong bones to keep filthy, undeserving hands from touching you. One taste of you and he’s already drunk on love and all of its promises of companionship and domesticity.

His hands tangle themselves in your hair, fingers massaging your scalp as his tongue gently prods at your mouth. That’s when you pull away, much to your disappointment, and he groans at the lewd line of spit connecting your lips. Mind hazy with lust, he tries to tilt your face towards his again, anxious to eat until all that’s left is a pile of bones and love, but you gently stop him by pressing your fingers to his mouth.

“Was I too rough?” he asks worriedly. “We can slow down, if you want. I just…miss you, is all, and you’re right about this being the first time we’ve had some time together in God knows how long. I…I know ‘s my fault, and I want to make it up to you—if you’re alright with that.”

And he looks so sincere—dark eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort, hands resting on your thighs and not daring to move, tongue nervously darting out to lick his lips, chest rising and falling with anticipation—you nearly allow him to devour you right there on the kitchen counter. But you’re determined to have a proper dinner with the man you love more than you could ever hope to comprehend. And what’s a good dinner without a nice show?

Your hands fiddle with the collar of his shirt, teeth gnawing at the inside of your cheek in hopes it’ll calm the hunger rolling around in your stomach. “You weren’t too rough, honey, I promise.” At that, you can see relief flood his features, and you gently tug on his collar so he brings his forehead down to meet yours. The pure adoration in his eyes nearly makes you choke, and you swallow down the lump of emotion that had begun to form in your throat. Simon has always been a gentle man despite his very impassive shell, never pushing you and always ready to communicate boundaries and comfort, so to see him so unraveled after a month of missing him is bringing out a masochistic side of you you’d never knew was buried underneath all of the domesticity. Still, you want to be able to enjoy him as much as possible before the moon hangs high and exhaustion begins to settle into heavy bones.

Simon mildly pulls your hand away from nervously toying with his shirt and kisses your fingers—an action that causes you to shudder with admiration. “Did I push you too much?”

“No, sweetheart. I just really, really want to have a nice dinner with you.”

Chuckling, he kisses your temple and helps you off of the counter, his hands lingering on your hips a little longer than necessary before swatting at your bottom and allowing you to begin cooking. “Then a nice dinner together we shall have.”

It’s intoxicating how much your thighs rub together as you cook dinner, how they jiggle and ripple, and Simon isn’t sure what he’s more hungry for. Your hips sway to and fo to the music—nothing inherently sexual about the movement, but his heart speeds up nonetheless. His dark eyes drink in every inch of you like a parched man in the desert, lapping up every single drop so much, he fears his stomach may burst. But it’d be worth it. It would be absolutely worth any form of torture to be able to touch you, hold you, hear you laugh, watch your lips form the syllables of his name. His greatest high, his greatest weakness, the person he’d try to find in every life after this one, the song he hums to himself when he thinks no one is around—all wrapped up in the prettiest package he has ever had the privilege of laying his eyes on.

Simon “Ghost” Riley, special forces operator trained to deal with things most people only see portrayed in overly-budgeted action movies, is absolutely hypnotized by how absolutely gorgeous you are.

“Didn’t know I was getting dinner and a show,” he nearly purrs at you as you pour him a glass of bourbon. Kentucky, of course.

“Hmm?” You innocently cock your head. “I’m just making you dinner, silly, a very normal thing.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

Lust and hormones roll off of your body in tidal waves, nearly drowning the man under the chaotic waters, but he wouldn’t mind, not really. He could spend hours, days, weeks floating around in all of your oceans, exploring every part of you until he has a clear map ingrained in his brain. He’s in love with your heart, in lust with your body, and enamored by your mind.

A warmth only alcohol can provide spreads across his body, and Simon Riley, known by even his closest friends as stern and forthright, dares to relax in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him and his eyes half-closed as they watch you sway to the music. At times like this, Simon is reminded of what it’s like to be naïve again, excited, ready to face the world and all of its possibilities. He’s content, basking in the security you provide him with and the knowledge that he has you to call home. He’s safe, and that’s something he’ll never, ever take for granted.

“You look happy,” you giggle, taking note of the pink flush to his face.

He hums, and in the blink of an eye he’s got his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your head. His lips brush against your hair, fingers fiddling with the t-shirt clinging to your body, and he swears he could stay like this forever if you allowed him to. He thinks this is what paradise must be like—his soulmate wrapped in his arms, the scent of delicious food hanging in the air, music softly playing over the sound of your giggles, his heart let free from its cage and soaring in the air.

“Must be because I am,” he utters into your hair. “I really, really am, sweetheart.”

And though he’s never been one for grandiose displays of affection, he finds himself spinning you around your shared kitchen, strong hands pressed into the small of your back and swaying your bodies to and fro, a makeshift ballroom squished in between the living room and his office.

Your hand fists his shirt, giggles bubbling out of your lips—the most beautiful sound he’ll ever hear. “Simon Riley! What has gotten into you?”

The smile he bears is a gentle one full of love and admiration, and you swear you feel your heart squeeze in your chest. “I’m very lucky to have you. In fact…” And then, his lips are ghosting over yours and his hands are clutching at your hips, desperate to feel you close but scared to admit how much he needs you. “I’d wager I’m the luckiest bastard on this shithole planet.”

“I think you’d lose,” you whisper back, a joyous light dancing in your eyes. “Because I’d wager I’m the luckiest person on this shithole planet to have you.”

He kisses you before he can stop himself, before he can second guess whether or not he’s worthy of your lips, before either of you can begin to decipher what love is and why it heals as much as it hurts. He kisses you and tries his hardest to commit dedication to memory. He kisses you and forgets what the definition of pain is and all he can feel is your fingers carding through his hair. He’s consumed by you—the smell of your shampoo stubbornly clinging to your hair, the feeling of your heart hammering against his, your eyelashes brushing against his cheek, the little squeal you let out when he picks you up, everything, everything everything. All he wants is this moment right here tattooed into his brain, burned into his eyelids so every time he closes his eyes all he can see is bliss and sunlight filtering through.

And though he’s the one with the infamous appetite, he swears he’d crack his ribcage open and allow you to feast as much as you need to. What is love if not all-consuming—cannibalistic desires flooding empty veins until the need to eat is unbearable? Hungry teeth clash against a bare tongue, and he groans loudly into your greedy mouth.

“Simon,” you gasp, “the food—”

“Can wait,” he finishes for you, and you both find yourselves stumbling into a chair. Quickly, he sits down with you on his lap, careful as to not hurt his precious meal. He can feel your cunt throb against his thigh and, god, he needs to eat, eat, eat before he goes completely mad. His thumb draws circles against the growing wet spot on your panties, a groan reverberating in his chest and deep eyes rolling to the back of his head. He sees you’re wearing the pink lacy panties with a white bow that always drive him up the walls of your shared home, and he has to fight the animalistic urge to rip them clean off of your body. No, he won’t be rough no matter how hungry he is. He’s not a beast void of all humanity. He’s simply a man with an empty stomach and the prettiest meal sitting on his lap, and his teeth miss how your skin feels pinched between them.

He easily slides your panties off, an expert in disarming prey, and brings them up to his nose, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Simon,” you moan out at the sight. “Simon, please—”

His hand strikes at your bottom before you can finish your sentence. “Ride my thigh, love.” And he pockets your panties, promising himself he’ll give them back one day.

His big, calloused hands grip your hips as you drag your pussy across his thick thigh, your juices coating his pants but he doesn’t even care. How can he when you look so precious moaning and pleading on his thigh, shaky fingers grasping at his tie to gain some sense of balance? His brown eyes gaze down at you with a predatory light, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth as your grinding becomes more and more erratic.

His voice is strained when he speaks, husky, a caged animal frustrated at not being able to roam free. “That desperate for me, hm? So impatient…” But he can’t deny the erection swelling in his boxers, nor can he deny how hypnotizing it is watching how your brow furrows in concentration with every swivel of your hips. The squelching sound of your drooling cunt is downright filthy, but it’s so intoxicating to the man who gets drunk off of your submission. Adam’s apple bobbing, he tries his hardest to swallow down all of the primal urges flooding his body, to allow you to continue chasing your high, but he can’t stop himself from planting a kiss on your exposed shoulder, nor can he stop himself from resting his forehead upon that very same shoulder. His arms wrap around your torso, bringing your body closer to his so your chests are flushed together, and he groans when he feels your leg brush against his aching cock.

“Si…,” you gasp.

“Shh, just let me do this, darling,” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck. “I want to be close to you.”

Tears poke at the corner of your eyes and your throat constricts, a small gasp leaving your lips before he kisses them gently. A vulnerable Simon is a rare one, but you’re so parched for the smallest taste of intimacy you’re nearly afraid of draining him completely. Still, you wrap your arms around his neck and quicken your pace—anything to keep him close, to keep his face buried in the crook of your neck and his hands stroking at your spine. Shaky fingers bury themselves in short blond hair, pulling at the strands and his heart strings. Trembling thighs squeeze around his own muscular one, and he feels just how hard your heart is slamming itself against your ribcage. What should’ve been an act of climacteric horniness is truly an act of desperate love, depraved intimacy that has been simmering under the surface—two people trying to find themselves buried in each other’s chests.

“Si…” His name rolls off of your tongue so easily, a sound that floods his veins with a warmth his blood couldn’t possibly supply. “Si, please!” Fingernails dig into his back, and he knows just how dire it is for you to feel all of him, but, fuck, he needs to hear you beg a bit more. He needs to be reminded that yes, he is worthy of love, and yes, even with a heart as scarred as his, he is capable of loving back. He needs his ears to be flooded with the sound of unhinged adoration and unwavering dedication. He needs to run his hands all across your skin until he’s able to commit romance to memory and he can’t bear the thought of touching anything else.

Pulling his head back, his amber eyes search your face, fingers gently tracing your bottom lip, and the sheer intensity of his expression has your movements slowing. You’re surprised to see him hesitant, unsure, because in a world of war and uncertainty, Simon Riley is a man made of osmium. He can’t afford the luxury of insecurity in a market that feeds off of humanity. But here he is, one hand keeping your hips stilled as his other one languidly traces all of the bumps and curves of your body, his brow furrowed in concentration as if afraid of breaking you with the slightest of pressure, his eyes full of worry.

“Si—”

“You know I love you, right?” he uncharacteristically cuts you off, his tone steady despite the tremble in his hand.

You answer without missing a beat. “Of course I do. I love you, too, honey.”

He nods, moreso to himself than you, and finally meets your eyes. You’re surprised to see the fire burning in them, how his soft eyes look nearly deadly as he wraps his arms around your chest and brings your body flush against his once again. “Then we’re going to do this the right way.” And before you can ask what he means by that, he lifts your body up with ease, earning a surprised squeak from you. His lips attach themselves against your shoulder, and you wrap your legs around his waist to allow him to carry you easier. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he confesses softly between kisses. “You keep me grounded, sweetheart. You keep me sane.”

Longing strangles you and you can’t help but shutter at his raw declaration of love. Simon reminding you how much you mean to him isn’t rare in the least bit–he’s rather forthcoming about his feelings after many months of you teaching him how to loosen his tongue–but to hear it said so tenderly, as if your ears are made of paper and he spits razors with every word, is something worth crying over.

And you do.

Glistening crystals poke at the corner of your eyes as he tenderly lays your body on the bed, and it’s at this moment Simon Riley thinks you’re something worth dying over. His fingers swipe at your tears, rough palm resting against your cheek, and you nuzzle your face into the callouses, a soft smile on your lips and galaxies in your eyes. He’s hopelessly, painfully, undeniably in love with you, and he absolutely hates himself for neglecting you so much.

“Sweetheart,” he begins, voice strained with love and weakness. How can he look into your eyes and apologize for being a horrible partner? You—with your patience and kindness and strength and dedication and selflessness—you deserve better, better than being left alone to wonder if he’s safe and alive. Better than brisk pecks to your forehead after a thoughtfully prepared breakfast. Better than rushed showers and swift promises of love before a day of unguaranteed nights. Better than him. Better than anything someone like him could ever hope to offer you.

And of course—because you’re you, you, you—you place a kiss on his palm. It’s an innocent enough gesture. A quick press of your lips to the palm of his hand. It’s something that he normally wouldn’t think twice about, something he would smile about and then kiss your cheek for. Definitely not something worth gasping over. Not something worth losing his breath over. Not something worth the shudder that wracks his body. Not something worth splitting his soul in two over. But, as he hovers over you, he can feel his shell crumbling away until all that’s left is the part of his heart he’s been saving for someone like you. He can’t breathe, can’t think, not when you’re kissing the same hand that has killed, that has failed, that has been scarred and covered in blood. And then you’re kissing the pulse in his wrist and then his forearm and then his bicep and before he can even warn you to save your kisses for the worthy, you’re kissing his shoulder in the same tender manner he was kissing yours moments ago.

He feels your breath dance across his neck and refuses to move until you give him permission.

“Simon,” you whisper, and his ears ring at how much affection you place in the syllables of his name. “I love you more than I could ever hope to fathom. I don’t think you realize how much you keep me sane.”

“Sweet—”

You silence him with a kiss to his neck, humming at the steady beat in his jugular. “You’re my comfort. You’re my safe space to be myself with no worries about what’s going to happen tomorrow because you’re prepared for anything. You allow me to be neurotic and moody and a ball of stress without judging me or trying to baby me. You understand that sometimes I need to be neurotic and moody and a ball of stress. You’re caring and thoughtful and straightforward and I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

You can’t be real. Even the holiest of heavens couldn’t craft something as angelic as you, and yet here you are, touching your forehead to his and filling his lungs with your stardust, divine hand caressing his cheek, sephric eyes holding so much unfiltered love he can’t stop himself from kissing you. His lips are tender at first, trying their best to memorize immortality and savoring how ethereal you taste, but when you place your hand on his neck, he feels himself giving into his mortal instincts. Using his body weight to his advantage, he lowers you back down to the mattress, never daring to break the kiss. His hands begin to tug at the shirt clinging to your torso, and you’ve never been quicker to dispose of clothes.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles against your lips, hands grazing across your thighs and squeezing them appreciatively. “You’re so beautiful, darling, do you know that?”

A sudden bashfulness warms your body, and you fight the urge to hide behind your hands. “You make me feel it,” you reply shyly and try to pull his face back down to yours, but he stops you by kissing the tips of your fingers. Pouting, you try to grab his face again, but again, he simply catches your hand and kisses your palm, his eyes resting on yours and full of unadulterated dedication. “C’mere, I wanna kiss.”

“You’ll get plenty of those, love, don’t worry.”

Forever and ever, he silently promises himself, I’m going to kiss you forever. And, keeping his promise like the dutiful man he is, he kisses his way up your arm, every touch of his lips measured and careful, until they gently brush against your cheek. You giggle at his breath tickling your neck, and he swears he feels his heart collapse in on itself like some pathetic parody of a supernova. This right here—you stripped down to your underwear and allowing him to love every inch of your supple skin, him stripped down to the bone and being forced to let go of control–is something he used to fantasize about, something he never ever thought himself worthy of, but when you look up at him with your eyes full of trust and dedication, he can’t stop himself from drinking in every second of it. His lips brush against your neck, right above the jugular so he can feel how your heart rate spikes, and then your collarbone, and then his tongue gently swipes across your nipple, earning a soft gasp from you.

“Simon,” you whine, “no teasing, please.”

His fingers brush against your cheek, lips still attached to your breast, while his other hand snakes down to your cunt. “‘m not teasing, darling, I promise. Just want to show every part of you some love.”

He’s an expert at unraveling you, at lightly grazing his fingers just above where you need him most, at dragging his tongue across your peddled nipple, at nipping and sucking at your breasts until you’re bucking against his hand. Even after all of these past weeks of quickies and fevered shower sex, Simon Riley is nothing short of a master at making you moan out his name. His penchant for precision is often deemed a tedious mindset, something to hold him back from admiring the big picture, but it’s a gift from the heavens above when it has you a writhing mess underneath him. Your juices are coating his hand and his ears are full of your vows of love and lust, but it still isn’t enough for him. He needs all of you, all of your tears, all of your gasps and whines, all of your shaking thighs wrapped around him, needs to feel skin brushing skin and the promise of loving and being loved forever.

Your shaking hands bury themselves in his hair, pulling and tugging at the strands and causing him to groan against your skin. “Simon, f-fuck, you’re so good.”

A moan stutters in his chest at the unexpected praise. He needs to feast on everything that is you until he’s full. Without so much as a warning, he kisses your forehead once more before throwing your legs over his shoulders in one swift movement. You open your mouth to protest that he deserves a little love too, but his lips are already attached to your throbbing clit and all you can do is cry out his name. You can feel another groan reverberate in his chest, his hands kneading at your plush thighs and pulling you closer, closer, closer, until his nose is buried in your pubic hair, and he looks nothing short of a man utterly in love with the person beneath him.

“Simon! Oh my fucking god, Simon!”

He slides a finger inside of your fluttering hole, and then another, curling them and scissoring just the way that has your thighs twitching around his head. Brown eyes roll to the back of his head, and he somehow manages to bury his face even further into your pussy. “Like that, baby? You like it just like that?”

“Yes, Simon, yes, please!”

“Fucking hell, darling, I could stay here forever.” Forever doesn’t seem like a long time as long as you’re by his side…

Simon isn’t sure what he’s more drunk on—the alcohol he indulged in earlier, or the juices dripping from your cunt. He’s intoxicated on submission and domination, lust and love, every saccharine memory with you in the past and every hopeful wish with you in the future, every broken piece of you and every picture he’s painted on your skin. He’s drunk on you. All of your moans and pants and pleas for more, more, more—eat until you’re full, Simon! Completely devour until all that’s left is an illustration of what love is!

He was never an indulgent man until you came into his life and discovered just how large his stomach truly is.

His tongue draws languid circles on your clit as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, his half-lidded ambers watching the rise and fall of your chest. Once he finds a good rhythm, he brings his free hand up to pinch and roll your nipple between his nimble fingers, and you’re sure this is what heaven must feel like.

Simon Riley is almost certain you’re an angel in disguise, but you’re starting to suspect he’s a god who’s too humble to admit his omnipotence. How else would he know exactly how to curl his fingers just right to get your thighs to shake? How else would he know how much you love when he flattens his tongue and slowly drags it along your clit? How else would he know to kiss your inner thigh as he takes a minute to catch his breath and rest his jaw? He looks up at you with ambers filled to the brim with worship and adoration, but you swear you can see a flicker of greed lingering somewhere in there—obsession disguised as fascination, possession parading as love, anything to keep you by his side.

“Look at you, so wet for me,” he coos up at you, using his fingers to spread your pussy lips and admire the mess between your legs. “Do I make you feel that good, sweetheart? Can’t help but fucking drip for me, hm? So wet for me, baby, so good for me.”

“S-S-Simon!”

“Keep moaning my name, sweetheart,” he groans as he brings his mouth to your cunt again, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the tightness of his pants. “Fuck—scream it, I don’t care. Just wanna keep hearing you.”

“Simon fucking Riley, please, you feel s-so good!”

Taunt skin is pulled across knuckles as you grip the bed sheets underneath you. Eyes rolling to the back of your skull, thighs uncontrollably shaking around his head, chest heaving as if you just ran a marathon, sweat clinging to your skin, cunt throbbing rhythmically along with the pumping of your partner’s fingers, you can feel your orgasm swiftly approaching. Simon must be able to tell also, given the way his licks to your clit are becoming more and more frantic and he’s starting to goad you on.

Desperation is laced with fascination as he begs, “Go on, baby, it’s okay. Cum on my fingers. Cum for me, please, let me make you feel good. I know you can, love. Just cum for me.”

As if under his spell, you feel the control you had been trying to grip on to snap and unadulterated pleasure crash over your body, leaving you heaving and twitching underneath his touch. He easily helps you through your high, gentle as he kisses your thighs and slowly eases his fingers out of your throbbing cunt. Crystals poke at the corner of your eyes, causing them to look like stained glass on a sunny day, and Simon is sure to say his prayers as he kisses them away.

“So, so gorgeous,” he whispers between the brushes of his lips. “So pretty when you’re cumming for me. Fuck, love, you’re so beautiful.”

Relishing the praise he’s pouring on your skin, your shaking fingers begin to tug at the shirt clinging to his chest. He tries to stop your ministrations and tell you that predators typically don’t get help from their prey, but you shush him and tell him that not every prey is helpless just like not every predator is invincible. He watches your hands fumble with bemusement, and after a moment of struggling you decide to flip your bodies over so you’re now straddling him.

He’s surprised to say the least, eyes widening and body struggling to regain control, but after a kiss to his forehead and a nip at his ear, he begins to think that having control isn’t what it’s all cracked up to be. Besides, why would he deny himself the perfect view of your body—of your breasts heaving in front of him, your pulse thumping in the hollow of your throat, of your neck exposed and ready to be bitten? Why would he deny himself of the feast before him, coated in sweat and glowing with love?

“Off,” you mumble against his neck and tug at his pants. “Off, please, Simon, take them off.”

Desperation drips from every syllable that falls from your intoxicating mouth, and he’s quick to dispose of the pants that restrict him. Strong fingers cup your jaw and bring your face in front of his, hungry ambers drinking in the sight of adoration and lust. His lips slot against yours, hands grasping at your hips and dragging your cunt across his hard cock, and he swears this is the sweetest form of torture.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I want you to look at me while you put me inside of you. C’mon, baby, don’t be shy now.”

Your trembling hands find his dick, and you have to stop to admire the masterpiece laying underneath you—a pretty red head beaded with precum, a prominent vein running along the side of his shaft and wrapping until it meets with a tuft of blond pubic hair, stomach muscles contracting with every breath, pink-flushed cheeks on a stern face, a naked chest rising and falling with anticipation. He’s beautiful. He’s everything every artist has tried to capture on blank canvases and fell just short of. He’s ethereally gorgeous but also alarmingly human. He’s an angelic face with blood-stained hands. He’s Simon “Ghost” Riley, and you’ve never been more proud to be able to call him yours.

Bashful eyes meet greedy ones and you’re lowering yourself on his cock before you can begin to ask yourself who’s more vulnerable in this moment—the prey on the pedestal or the predator whose appetite can only be satiated by one person. The swollen tip of his cock rests easily inside of you, and right when you’re about to start rocking your hips, he sits up so your chests are flushed together, much like how you were in the kitchen.

His lips brush against your shoulder, and you’re reminded of how gentle he can be despite the calluses on his palms. “I want you close, baby, please. Need to feel all of you. Every inch, inside and out. Will you let me do that, sweetheart?”

A thick blanket of submission wraps itself around your shoulders, and your head is nodding before you even give it permission to. “Want all of you, Si! Need all of you! Jus’ wan’ you.”

He begins to rock his hip, bones digging into plush flesh, and swears he can see flashes of golden gates with each thrust. “That’s it, baby. Such a good girl—my good girl.”

“S-Simon!”

Watching your breasts bounce as he bucks into you is hypnotizing, and he has to dig his fingers into your thighs to keep himself from bucking into you wildly. No, he refuses to be the beast he keeps buried down. It’s taken years of self-discipline and self-discovery to keep it locked away. He can’t unleash it now during a moment of vulnerability. But there’s something so tantalizing about you, so tempting and delicious that causes his teeth to sharpen and his mouth to flood with drool…

“Roll your hips, darling,” Simon whispers into your neck. “Be my good girl and roll your hips.”

And like the obedient girl you are, you listen, clit brushing against his pelvis and sending delicious waves of pleasure over your body. He thinks he’s dragging you down to hell with him, but you’re certain this is what heaven feels like. The love of your life beneath you, a light blanket of sweat over his body, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tries not to overindulge, his heart slamming against his ribcage in a frenzied attempt to reach you, his hands touching every inch of you they can reach, his lips kissing away the tears that stream down your face… No, this is better than heaven. With his hunger and your curiosity, you’ve both managed to find a place better than the promiseland, better than anything any god or mortal could even begin to hope to comprehend, a place where he’s free to feast on you as much as he wants and you can bury yourself in his ribcage.

Strong fingers slip under your chin and force you to look in a pair of shining ambers, and you swear Simon has never looked more beautiful than in this moment. “Kiss me, sweetheart,” he pleads, his hips stuttering.

Starving lips come crashing together, and it takes every ounce of self-control to not feed until his stomach ruptures.

And the worst part of it all is he knows you would allow him to.

You would absolutely allow him to eat, eat, eat, Simon, sharpen your teeth and bite as hard as you want! You’ll never go hungry as long as you’re with me! Just eat, goddammit, eat, eat, eat! Eat all of me until we aren’t sure where you end and I begin! Eat until I’m swimming in your veins! Just fucking eat!

Simon buries his face into the crook of your neck in hopes that maybe he can get through the night without any bloodshed, struggling to keep himself under control. But you have other plans. Lacing your fingers through his blond hair, you guide his face to one of your breasts in a silent plea for him to suck on it as you ride him. He obeys, of course. How could he not when you look so delicious covered in sweat and bouncing on his cock?

With teeth as sharp as diamonds, he tugs onto your nipple, and you cry out his name until it’s all you can dare to think about. “Fuck, baby,” he swears, one of his hands massaging your other breast, “you’re so beautiful. You know that right, darling? Have I ever told you how beautiful you are as you ride me?”

Your thighs begin to shake, and it’s then you both know you’re at the brink of unadulterated pleasure. Mustering as much strength as you can, you slam your hips down on his in frantic motions, feel the head of his cock prodding at your cervix, and tears poke at the corners of your eyes in anticipation of the feast about to come.

“So close, baby,” your partner moans, “so fucking close. Just a little more, love. Can you do that for me? Can my good girl ride me just a little bit more and make us both cum?”

“Y-Yes! Anything for you, Simon! Jus’ wanna be your good girl…”

Your whines and moans become more and more warbled the closer you get to your orgasm, and Simon is drinking every ounce of your submission. Unable to maintain self-control in the face of greed, sharp teeth pinch your nipple, the swell of your breasts, your shoulder, your neck, your jaw—anywhere he can feed and hear you squeal out in delight, just so long as he eats, eats, eats. Every time enamel pinches plush flesh, he can feel a piece of you slither down his throat and land in his ever-growing stomach—somewhere you’ve learned to consider home. Whispers of praise and love dance across your skin, his hands running up and down your spine as if coaxing you to give him just a little more of yourself, just a bit more so he can sedate the beast and continue to be the practical man you know and love.

“So fucking good for me,” he moans into the crook in your sweaty neck, his cock beginning to throb with the need to release. “That’s my girl, just a little more. I’m so close, love.”

Shaky hands bury themself into thick hair, and you pull until you can hear a hiss leave his lips. “Please, Simon, cum with me, please!”

“My baby wants me to cum with her, hmm?” he teases, albeit weakly. He’s losing control, you both know it. His abs flex with strain, his brow is shining with sweat, and his lips wobble with weakness, and yet he’s fighting to have you cum first just so he can taste how sweet you are on his tongue before he’s no longer human.

“Yes, please! I’m begging you, Simon, cum with me!”

“O-O-Oh, fuck...” Though he’s never been much for blind optimism, a part of him hoped maybe he finally could have control over his desires around you. A foolish thing to think, really, when you call to the beast buried in his ribcage so easily… “I’m gonna cum, darling, cum with me!”

And you do, almost embarrassingly quick. With your arms wrapped around each other, your face buried in his chest and his buried in your hair, your hips clumsily crashing together, you both cum together loudly, lewdly, your names burned into each other’s throats and echoing off of your bedroom walls.

“You did so well for me, baby,” he mumbles against your shoulder, his lips fumbling to kiss everywhere his teeth sunk into. “I love you so much.”

You sigh and lean into his kisses as much as you can, arms still hanging loosely around his neck and your lungs trying to pull in oxygen. “I love you too, sweetheart, so, so much.”

“C’mon, I’ll go prepare a bath for us.” Gently, he untangles your limbs and lifts you in his strong arms. With one last kiss to your forehead, he begins to make his way to the bathroom, you curled up against his chest and listening to how hard his heart is hammering.

And somewhere between the sound of running water and satisfied giggles, Simon swears he hears a growl coming from his chest—low and threatening, a warning he only has so much time before he loses control and he can no longer contain how he feels about you.

And, for the first time since he discovered that wretched beast, he thinks he might be okay with that.

#; ophie writes #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x y/n #simon riley #simon 'ghost' riley

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thebestandworstdayofjune · 2 months ago

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I love the way you write Logan, it's so comforting! Can't wait to see more of your work, it's lovely💗

Idk if this would be your thing so feel free to ignore obviously!

How do you think Logan's dynamic would be with a reader having intense intimacy issues, to the point where they struggle to even think about doing anything more than make out with him? I really haven't found any fic like that and I think that you would a concept like that more than justice

I do see him having some intimacy issues himself (traumatized wet cat💀)

this is so sweet, thank you so much! My brain immediately supplied a list of head canons, I hope that you enjoy <3

~ So I am thinking about Logan from the original trilogy for these in particular ~ He definitely has some intimacy issues, more so on the emotional intimacy side than physical intimacy ~That is, until he meets you. You're a professor at the school, and while he can tell you love the young mutants with a large part of your heart, you remain physically distant from them. When the Youngers ones reach for a hug, you meet them instead with a fist bump or a high five. Never cruel, but always setting your boundary. ~The first time you catch him noticing your habit, you expect him to roll his eyes, or hit you with a judgy side eye. Instead, he quirks his head and resumes what he had previously been doing. ~Eventually, the two of you start spending a lot more time together. He will nudge a cup of coffee your way, and ask after you when you have a headache. He never encroaches on your space, despite being quite touchy with the other faculty.

~You spend a week working up the courage to confront him about it, strategizing the best way to ask for the reassurance you want but have trouble asking for. You expect him to blow you off, but when you knock on his door, he ushers you inside and lets you choose where to sit in the room, choosing his seat to be close enough to show he is invested but far enough away for your comfort. It isn't even a conscious thought for him, it's natural. ~You fumble through your question, doing your best to explain your line of thinking, before eventually just spitting out "do you hate me?" ~He is so shocked that he doesn't know what to say for a few seconds, which only makes your anxiety feel worse. ~He takes a few seconds, collecting his thoughts, and then you can see the typical Logan smirk start sparkling in his eye again. "Sweetheart, it's a little hard to hate the person you're acting a fool over". Your eyes practically bug out of your skull, and he chuckles to himself. He is twitching in his seat, and you can tell he is trying his best to not gather you up in his arms. ~You extend a hand out to him, palm upturned. He takes it instantly. He raises your entwined hands halfway towards his mouth, before meeting your eyes and waiting for your reaction. ~You nod, holding your breath and he drops a kiss on the back of your hand, before adjusting so that he can kiss your palm as well. ~When he hears your heartbeat stutter, he is quick to hold your hand again, resting against his knee. He confirms that you feel the same way, insistent on getting verbal confirmation. Your face feels like it is on fire, but you reply in the affirmative. "We are going to take this as slow as you need. I... I care about you so much, and your comfort always comes before anything else." ~You feel a few tears well up, and he moves to wipe them away as they begin to fall. Again, he pauses before actually making contact with your face, waiting for your gentle nod. ~From that day on, you are even more attached at the hip than before. Logan loves knowing that you are with him for more than his body, and he is constantly making sure that you know how much he values you. ~Overall, I just imagine him being very sweet and understanding and taking it as slow as you need. He is protective of you when you meet new people, often coming in between you and others who are not as considerate as he thinks they should be. Definitely sends his protective instincts into a bit of an overdrive, but you also appreciate having the scary dog privilege when you are out in public as well. People are definitely giving you a wider berth than you are used to. You always feels safe and taken care of with him, which is exactly how he wants it to be

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hansensgirl · 11 months ago

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summary. | Breaking up with Steve Rogers is harder than it seems.

prompts. | Steve Rogers + no AU + “Don’t be a brat.” + Manhandling, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!Steve Rogers x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, manhandling, roughness, mean!steve?, angry!steve, friends-with-benefits/sex-only relationship, pet names, attempt at breaking up, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

Captain America’s hand squeezes your arm tightly as he drags you out of the elevator and to one of the spare sleeping quarters. You let him do as he likes, knowing you have no authority compared to the Star Spangled Man.

“Captain Rogers–” you begin, but he grumbles. “Sir, if you’d just stop and listen for a second–” you insist, trying again. “Shut up,” he spits out, throwing you onto the cot.

You land with an ‘oomph,’ forgetting for a second just how much stronger Steve is than the regular person. “You know, I thought you’d be happy with what I did,” he begins, shutting the door behind him. The small room is dark, but you can still see him pretty well.

He leans over you, eyes flicking as he runs them up and down your body. You gulp thickly, nervous under his stare.

“I am, Steve. I promise,” you breathe out, forgoing the professional farce you’re forced to put up in public. But behind closed doors, he’s your Steve—the one you’ve been having a strictly sex-only relationship for the last few months. “Really? It doesn’t feel that way.”

You sigh in annoyance. Steve is crazy about communication despite this not being a traditional relationship. You’ve explained it to him time and time again, and although he says he understands, he never listens.

“I swear,” you tell him, sitting up to level your gaze with Steve. You roll your eyes at his anger.

He’s referring to how he used his rank to get a few weeks off for vacation, where he promises he’ll take you to whatever foreign country you’d like. The only issue is that you don’t have the same clearance as Steve, so you’re stuck with the same schedule.

Except now, he has all the time in the world to hound you as you try to work.

“Don’t be a brat,” Steve hisses, grabbing you by your arms once again as he lifts you up. “I’m not being a brat, Steve. I just wish you’d have told me sooner,” you sigh.

His jaw clenches in frustration. “Why? You’ve been avoiding me for the last two weeks. I thought it would be a nice surprise, yet here you are, sulking,” he says, seething the entire time.

You wince at how rough Steve’s voice is. You’re sure the only other time he’s like this is on the field, and it hurts your feelings. Undeniably, you’re scared.

“I’m not sulking,” you groan in annoyance. You have to tell Steve what’s been on the tip of your tongue for days on end. It’s the only way he’ll realize why you’ve been distant from him. “I’m thinking of ending things. Between us.”

You sigh out the words and are greeted by complete silence. All you can hear is Steve’s heavy breathing.

“What?” he finally says, as if your words have just sunken in. “I don’t think we should continue… this, okay? You’ve been great to me, and I really do like you, Steve, but it’s not a good idea to keep it going. You deserve better. So do I.”

Steve squints his eyes as he listens to your monologue. The silence prolongs.

“You know, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I can pull a few strings to get you some time off,” he finally says, breaking the tension in the room.

“...What?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, sweetie. We’ll leave and come back on the same day, too,” he smiles, and you furrow your brows. Steve places a hand on your face and strokes your cheek, the anger in his face cooling.

“No, Steve–”

“What? Can’t even be grateful for that either?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. His constantly switching behaviours give you whiplash. “You’re going on that vacation with me, whether you like it or not,” he tells you, pushing you back onto the cot.

“Did you really think you can leave me that easily, sweetie? How cute.”

#sabs concepts #steve rogers #marvel #the avengers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #chris evans #dark!#drabble #request #sab’s dark concepts (2023)

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alphajocklover · 6 months ago

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Can we see the Alpha turning a couple of gay betas who used to be boyfriends into pussy obsessed straight bros?

Someone clearly saw my post about Alphas and sexuality. When I talk about Alphas I usually talk about them in general terms, since getting close and personal with an Alpha is practically begging to get turned into their beta. I usually don’t name names or get into specifics. But since you asked…

Meet Alvin and Benny. They’re boyfriends, or at least they were when this photo was taken. They used to be a loving couple. Alvin, the bigger one, loved to travel and dreamed of taking a trip to Paris. He was an outgoing, friendly guy who was always very kind. Benny, the shorter one, was slightly less social, being painfully shy. Still he had a good heart, loved to write, and once you got to know him he was the funniest person you’d ever meet. Alvin and Benny were great together, being an ideal couple. They brought out the best of each other and supported eachother in everything.

And then they met Cal.

Neither of them really remember how Cal came into their lives? Was he their new neighbor? No, that wasn’t right. Was he Alvin’s new coworker? That didn’t ring true either. Maybe he was Benny’s childhood friend who had come out of the woodwork? Whoever he was, he quickly integrated into their lives. It started off with small things, like skipping drag brunch with their other gay friends to hang out with Cal, or eating a salad instead of a donut because Cal suggested they try to eat healthier. But things escalated quickly, as they usually do with Alphas. Soon Al and Ben, as they now liked to be called, were working out like crazy because they wanted to keep up with Cal. They started talking differently, using words like bro and dude almost constantly, because Cal talked like that, and they were Cal’s bros. They quickly started to forget they were ever anything but Cal’s bros, his betas. Still, through it all, they stayed a couple. It was… weird. Cal was kind of impressed honestly. Usually by the time someone became a beta they lost all interest in relationships with anyone but their Alpha. But these two… they had hung onto it, despite everything. It was impressive… and it pissed Cal off. He didn’t mind that they were gay, but he fucking hated that they were still resisting him. He was their fucking Alpha, and they were his Betas. He should have complete control over them. But he was confident in his powers, like all Alphas are.

So he made a game of it.

He decided to see how far he could push them, how many changes they could handle while still being a gay couple. It wasn’t hard to increase their libidos, nor was it hard to give them an intense urge to fuck pussy. It took 3 months for the changes to finalize, and Cal found it hilarious to watch the two former fags slowly transform, how they’d insist they were gay while also bragging to eachother and Cal about all the pussy they were getting. How they were still convinced they were boyfriends when the closest they’d get to being intimate now is when they’d spit roast a bimbo together on their cocks. In the end there never was never an exact moment where they went from gay to straight. Overtime they just slowly forgot that that was what they used to be. They didn’t think about it anymore. Their relationship with their Alpha was far more important than their relationship with each other after all. And if their Alpha wanted two pussy obsessed straight douchebags, that was what he’d get.

Maybe Cal would let them be a couple again one day. Or maybe he’d make them both into his personal cock suckers. But for now Cal was happy to watch the former fags act like a couple of straight bros. All for him.

**Another Gay to Straight story, this time taking place is my ‘Alpha with a Capital A’ world. I love it when people ask me to expand on the stuff I’ve made, and I had fun writing this. Hope you liked it! If anyone ever wants to see me expand more on anything I’ve written before, just ask!**

#muscle growth tf #jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #twink to jock #muscle tf #alpha with a capital a

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ironunderstands · 2 months ago

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My reaction (or rather rebuttal) to this amazing theory by Lalody’s lore; and how I think it exposes a problem with theory making in general

Now disclaimer, I would like to start off by saying that this is not an attack on the creator of this video in the slightest. This is a very well researched and thought out theory and I 100% understand why she came to the conclusions she did, even if admittedly I believe they are a bit of a stretch. I also am not here to debunk anything, lore is not my speciality or something I really care about in general, and admittedly I’m not very well versed in it even if I know the basics.

Rather, this post is going to be discussing this theory from a thematic/charaterization perspective, and why I think it’s wrong because of that- as well as how it exposes problems with theory making in general.

This is going to be mostly a stream of consciousness-style rant, and although I recommend you watch that video before reading this (both because it’s a) very good, and b) obviously relevant to the conversation), I’m going to be speaking very generally about the content in it, so you don’t necessarily have to watch it.

Alright, on with my major problem with this theory: ie, never in a million goddamn years would it make THEMATICALLY make for our dear Veritas Ratio to willingly become an aeon

His whole character is about being human and humanity man

Ratio, in essence, is the most human character in Honkai Star Rail, and I don’t mean that literally, as there’s reason to believe he isn’t.

Rather, him (as well as Aventurine and Acheron) are characters that embody the human spirit/what it means to be human.

I could talk about them at length later, but in Ratio’s case, the story makes a point that despite how remarkable his life and achievements are, he is still at his core, human, mundane, and not unique in the face of the universe- that is what makes him INTERESTING.

He objectively has amazing accomplishments- ones which by far qualify him to be a member of the Genius Society- Lalody mentions it herself (and thank god for that).

However, every step Ratio takes, he reaffirms his humanity and mundanity- LITERALLY

He calls himself a Mundanite constantly- hell he made a whole secret society of them, he believes that any person, fool or genius is capable of living their life to the fullest, and he dedicates his time trying to help them rather than chasing the stars himself. Ratio is very self aware, admitting he’s not good with people and can be rather abrasive, admitting he knows how he comes off to others, but refusing to change despite that because that’s who he is. His opening a chest voiceline has him saying that he accepts the material offer it values- like any man would. Never in Ratio’s life has he distanced himself or put himself above others, and the quest introducing him is called the MUNDANE and the Divine for a reason.

At his core, Ratio is no different from any other person and that’s what makes his objective exceptionality meaningful. He’s a character that smacks you in the face with how even the average person can achieve great things in live- that creativity and intelligence aren’t limited to Geniuses- aren’t limited to those acknowledged by Nous, by the divine.

Hell, that’s something I ripped straight out of his first character story because at his core this is who Ratio IS

He is a rejection of the divine- not an embrace of it

To make Ratio an Aeon would take everything he stands for away, and be a direct spit in the face to how inspiring he is both in universe and for the players.

Making a character whose whole thing is saying “you do not need to be extraordinary to do great things,” and then going “hah psych he’s a god actually and this is unachiveable for normal people, just like every other genius- you know, the people he stands against!” would just suck. It would suck. I don’t have more intelligent words for this other than saying that doing THAT would suck ass.

It’s not that Ratio couldn’t become an Aeon, it’s that he would never WANT to be one. It would be the most tragic thing ever to do to him, and would hurt him in every way possible to do so. Tearing him away from the thing he cares about the most, from what defines him as a person would be worse than killing him off in my opinion, and in universe he would hate that more too.

There’s several reasons why he doesn’t like the Genius Society, and their disconnect from humanity is one of them. Hell, when Screwllum invited him to work together, Ratio instead of centering the project in aeons, chooses to focus on people instead. Screwllum likens them to both ends of the spectrum- with himself and the rest of the Genius’s exploring Divinity, and Ratio Humanity- or rather Mediocrity.

That’s also why me and my Screwllum loving friend believe that in “The Mundane and the Divine,” Ratio is the Mundane and Screwllum the Divine, so to make both of them divine would ruin that dichotomy, and the whole opposites thing he currently has going on with Screwllum, Ruan Mei, and the Genius Society in general.

If he’s an aeon- if he’s divine too, then who is left to be the mundane?

2) Why is he stealing Ruan Mei’s and Acheron’s nachos

If any of our playable characters are going to become an Aeon, it’s her for obvious reasons. From a meta perspective, pulling that same shit twice or robbing Ruan Mei of the plot line she deserves and slapping it onto Ratio is cheap and stupid, especially considering he’s her narrative foil which only again goes to prove that it wouldn’t make sense for him.

As for Acheron, the reason I mention her is because the only Aeon I can actually see Ratio becoming is the Existence- who a) probably already exists b) finding them is her storyline anyways, and if anyone is going to become them, it will be her c) although I absolutely believe Ratio’s personal philosophy is incredibly similar to Acherons, they’d actually have to interact on screen once before it would make sense for that to happen.

Either way, the theory itself is an interesting premise, but there are far better characters to ascribe it to, which leads into my final point.

3) Why the hell would the writers do this?

Just because they can doesn’t mean they should, and from a thematic and character perspective, I have already gone over why if they care to actually do his character justice, they would never ever consider making Ratio an aeon, unless it’s against his will or something.

Which is why I think this video is actually an exemplar of the problem with theory making in all fandoms now a days- ie; people don’t actually stop to consider whether their theories make sense in the story.

And I don’t mean logically. Honestly I’m going to call this the Game Theory Effect because they do it better than anyone- just because something can happen in a story doesn’t mean it should.

The writers could make Ratio an Aeon, they could go “oops it was all a dream” again in Penacony and local astrophysicists could theorize on how I managed to throw a brick at my computer at light speed. They could do literally anything and justify it in the process because HSR is a work of fiction, but that does not mean the story itself would be good.

This is more of a criticism of how people approach storytelling in general, seeing media only for their plots and not for their themes, which is frustrating beyond words, because at least in my opinion, the most interesting parts of stories are their themes. Also, I feel that when debunking theories, people should focus less about the logic behind them, and more about whether they would actually make sense or not to be involved.

Moreover, Lalody’s video raises some very interesting ideas, and it’s caused me to think of a storyline involving similar elements- but in an opposite direction.

What if Ratio was initially Divine- but willingly became Mundane. Maybe it wasn’t willing and he was forced to be this way, but either way, it would make far more sense- and be far more interesting- if we see him reject divinity rather than embracing it.

It’s no secret Ratio’s lore is sort of a black hole at the moment, which is half the reason why so many crazy theories about him exist- we barely know anything about the guy personally. However, I’d liked to see it filled in a way that doesn’t completely demolish his current character, or who he literally is currently, as I rather like Ratio in his present form, and a bait and switch might actually drive me a bit nuts, just saying.

There’s plenty of speculation to be had, especially considering that one Cosmodyssey occurrence that haunts my every waking hour game please explain, but I’d like the hsr community to move away from the “Ratio is super special and extraordinary” direction, because what makes him interesting is the fact that he ISN’T

#hsr #honkai star rail #dr ratio #Dr ratio hsr #hsr theory #again no hate to Lalody they gave me so much to think about haha and I appreciate the effort put in #Their bringing up of Prometheus intrigued me #Because Ratio like Prometheus giving his all for humanity and paying a price for it #becoming mundane #Would be really interesting #We will have to wait and see though #I am very curious

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hadesrise · 7 months ago

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beware of the nicest guy.

summary ➳ even the nicest guy turns violent when provoked. patience isn’t forever.

pairings ➳ sweet pea x male reader

warnings ➳ fluff, violence, reggie being an asshole, foul language, homophobia, homophobic slur, mentions of being ganged up, broken bones, blood, no use of (y/n)

author’s note ➳ i’ve always done this trope, haven’t i? 😔 previously written on closedmadness, edited. that one will be deleted.

Northsiders refusing to welcome Southsiders isn’t an unfamiliar matter in the northside of Riverdale. Nearly everyone was the same; prejudice littered across the town with judgmental stares and narrow-mindedness that serves as immaturity, their lack of human decency evident with the way they’d rather spread hatred and negativity than actually get to know the Southsiders.

It’s gotten a lot boring, if the Southside Serpents were being honest.

Being constantly picked on by Reggie Mantle and the Bulldogs while the others watched, it was getting too old and unamusing for the gang. There’s nothing new to the way Reggie spits insults after insults that doesn’t even offend them in the slightest, the lack of creativity just making him seem like an unloved child. His mouth continuously moved despite the Serpents displaying a bored look on their faces, his superiority complex getting the best of him and causing him to be blind to his surroundings.

It was supposed to be the same; get picked on, everyone ignores, the Bulldogs get tired and leave, just like that. However, a new unfamiliar presence disrupted the routine that everyone seemingly fell into.

Adorned in an indie outfit of white button down, brown vest and khaki trousers that’s almost out of place in Riverdale High from its simplicity, you hurriedly walked towards the commotion and separated the Bulldogs from the Serpents by shoving Reggie back. The jock stumbled back from the force before glaring at you, who didn’t hesitate to stand tall in front of the Southsiders without much thought.

The Serpents who were in front, Sweet Pea, Toni and Fangs seemed taken aback by your protective stance, how you stood as if you were shielding them from the stupid jocks. They stared at the back of your head as you stared at Reggie, deeply unimpressed.

“Won’t there be a day where I don’t hear you making a fuss?” You asked rhetorically, sighing and adjusting the files you were holding in one arm. “It’s about time you grow up and act like your age, Mantle.”

Reggie sarcastically smiled, ignoring your remarks. “If it isn’t the nicest guy in Riverdale.” He tilted his head, “You would get nothing out of defending these fuckers, Mr. President. It’s only pointless, so get out of my way.”

“Picking on them is also pointless, what are you exactly trying to prove?” You retort, raising one of your eyebrows and shoving your empty hand in the pocket of your trousers. “This childish and immature actions must be definitely coming from being spoiled like a brat by your parents, but I assure you, you look nothing like but a pathetic attention-seeking bitch for going after people that couldn’t even give a single penny to care about you.”

A snicker erupts from behind you, undoubtedly from a couple of the Serpents, as Reggie clenched his jaw and stepped forward with a harsh glare.

“The fuck did you just say?”

“I’m sure you’re not deaf.” You fiercely met his eyes, unbothered by how he looks like he could punch you any moment. “I’m also sure what I said was true, but you’ll only prove me right if you attack me right now.” Your eyes cunningly glinted under the school lights.

Reggie grits his teeth, glares at the Serpents for a few moments before turning around to walk away, his teammates following behind.

A deep sigh escapes your lips as soon as he was out of sight, pinching the bridge of your nose under your round spectacles and turning around in your place to see the Serpents still standing there, observing you. They all plastered a curiosity on their faces since you were a new sight to them, someone who had never caught their eyes before. It’s also intriguing how you seem much more… nonchalant and mature than the other students, your atmosphere holding calmness that’s rare to find in people they’ve encountered.

“I apologize on their behalf. I know you could’ve handled it by yourselves, but settling things down is my job around here.” You formed an apologetic smile, which surprised them, along with the friendliness in your tone. No one had ever talked or looked at them like that. It was strange to interact with someone who had no malice or negativity in the atmosphere.

“Don’t be sorry!” Toni grinned, holding her hand out. “I’m Toni. These are Fangs and Sweet Pea.”

You shook her hand and introduced yourself before looking at the two guys on both of her sides, Sweet Pea’s eyes lingering on you causing you to flash him a shy smile and look back at Toni, gesturing to her pink hair. “I really like your hair, it’s pretty.”

“Thanks,” She happily fluffed her hair with her hands.

“This is probably your first time seeing me here, I’m actually the school president although Cheryl likes to act more like it.” You explained with a chuckle.

Sweet Pea raised his brows, “How come you’re not around?”

“I’ve been doing charity work for my family’s business,” You shrugged. “Teaching kids basic lessons, serving foods and drinks to people in need, visiting nursing homes, taking care of people with disability, something like that. My family’s business provide help to all community that needs a helping hand.”

Your explanation left them impressed as their eyes fell on the files in your arm, some posters and documents sticking out from it. There were also sticky notes and note tabs that shows your effort to the project, which revealed your genuineness to help people. Perhaps, Reggie Mantle was really telling the truth when he said you’re the nicest guy in Riverdale. The way you smiled was genuine and warm, as if it came from the bottom of your heart, looking at them with nothing but kindness and friendliness behind your bright eyes that sparkles in excitement.

Toni found you adorable, your softness coming off as unexpected from your sophisticated attitude. Fangs found you cool, your lack of hesitation in calling out other’s bullshit even when people were just muttering among themselves making him laugh and want to befriend you more.

Sweet Pea, on the other hand, found you endearing. You were like a bright soul that got lost in a jungle full of animals, the only sane and more human person in this town. Your soothing laugh tugs at the strings on his heart as warmth spreads across his chest, an unfamiliar feeling building up in his stomach. He admires the way you push your glasses up with one finger when it slides down, the way you furrow your brows when concentrating, the way your fingers flip the page of the files you’ve made by yourself.

You had enthusiastically joined them in class when you found out they shared the same one as you, choosing to sit near them so you’ll be able to have hushed conversations while the teacher discussed some nonsense.

Everyday, you would spend time with them despite the amount of students wanting to converse with you, becoming some sort of an unofficial member of their little circle as you share them some accomplishments you’ve achieved. Getting taught by you in their studies proved to be so much effective than listening to boring professors when Sweet Pea discovered he actually excelled at mathematics while Toni at history and Fangs at science, with Jughead not being surprised at the outcome. He did expect it since you were one of the most excellent students.

The four of them occupied the seats on the corner of the classroom, Jughead and Toni on the last row with Sweet Pea and Fangs on the front, unbothered by the subtle looks being thrown their way as you sat in front of them concentrated on a paper. You were seemingly working on another project for your family business.

Sweet Pea couldn’t help but stare at you, admiring how your structured features shift each time you come up with ideas. He wanted to ask you on something about the paperwork he was doing, but admiring you first seemed ideal in his head.

Feeling someone drill a hole on the side of your face, you turned to meet Sweet Pea’s eyes and your features softened, a warm smile spreading across your lips. He made sure to engrave it in his eyes.

“What’s up, Pea? You’re staring.” You chuckled, sounding like a soothing melody in Sweet Pea’s ears as his face also softens.

“I kinda need help with this,” He says, voice uncharacteristically quiet and warm, scooting closer to show you his notebook. “You okay with me bothering you for a bit?”

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind.” You shrugged and settled your pen on top of the desk, fully facing him to start explaining where he didn’t understand. Sweet Pea kept nodding each time you explained, his gaze never leaving your face yet still understanding everything you say, a subtle almost peaceful smile across his lips.

Both of you had failed to notice the three of your friends burning holes into the two of you.

“Are they…?” Jughead trailed off, pointing at you.

Both Toni and Fangs shook their heads, “Not yet, unfortunately.” They replied in sync before Fangs adds, “Though I think it’s a matter of time before Sweets make a move.”

“Bet,” Jughead smirks.

They weren’t wrong.

The Serpents and the Corefour with Kevin and Cheryl gathered in the cafeteria, unbothered by looks shot by Northsiders as they conversed among one another, light meals in front of each of them with the exception of Sweet Pea who was restlessly drumming on the table with his hands. He keeps looking back at the entrance, as if he expects someone to barge in any moment.

Toni and Fangs exchanged a glance with smirks before Jughead nudged Sweet Pea lightly to catch his attention. “Where’s your lunch?”

“Didn’t get any,” The tall serpent shrugged, but failing to hide his excitement despite his attempt.

“Right, ‘cause your boyfriend’s making you one.” Toni snickers, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly. Sweet Pea scoffed and rolled his eyes, but couldn’t resist the smile spreading across his lips.

The cafeteria doors opened as you finally enter with a lunch box and box of cupcakes in both hands, your eyes scanning across the room before falling on your boyfriend. A smile easily crossing Sweet Pea’s face when you waved enthusiastically and started rushing towards their table.

He immediately pulls you to sit on his lap and you peck him on the lips as a greeting, making your friends let out awes. You giggled after pulling away, making him smile. “What’s up, baby?”

“I made a lunch for you,” You showed him the round metallic lunch box with an excited grin. “It’s really not much, but I’m confident with my cooking skills so I promise it’s not poisonous. I also baked cupcakes!” Placing the lunch box in front of Sweet Pea on the table, you set the box of cupcakes down in the middle to ensure it wasn’t just for your lover.

Sweet Pea’s eyes sparkled in joy, his atmosphere radiating happiness that the Serpents had almost never seen him with. His anger issues tend to be the most noticeable trait of him, but ever since he got with you, they feel like it calmed down a bit. He kisses you on the cheek as a sign of gratitude before opening the lunch box and coming across his favourite foods, making his smile widen if that was possible. It made you smile softly, ruffling the back of his hair.

“Aww, aren’t there any for us?” Fangs asked, his arm thrown around Kevin’s shoulders.

“I want some too,” Toni whines beside Cheryl, attempting to reach her hand into the lunch box but being swatted lightly by Sweet Pea with a glare.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

You laughed at their interaction and gestured to the thick and big box of cupcakes, “I couldn’t make lunch so I over-baked some cupcakes. Sorry pals, maybe next time.”

Everyone letting out cheers and noises of excitement, Cheryl stands up to open the big package and distribute each, the delicious sweet scent of baked goods making them sniff it. Awing at the sight of different flavoured cupcakes, Fangs couldn’t help but take a bite of his chocolate flavoured one, letting out satisfied noises before holding it out for Kevin to have a taste.

You also picked a banana flavoured cupcake for yourself after observing their reactions, pleased at the satisfaction and pleasant surprise coating their faces. Having a mother who opened her own bakery by your house had its perks; you were able to learn how to bake and cook many things through helping her, making it your new hobby. It also helped greatly in terms of charity work — you can share foods to people who aren’t financially capable and give them the opportunity to taste what they’ve never tasted before. Your father became even more proud that you’ve found more ways than one to help the people in need.

“This is so fucking good,” Sweet Pea remarks while munching on the lunch you gave him, oblivious to the loving gaze you had on him.

Everyone watches with soft smiles on their faces, how equally in love with each other you looked despite the obvious differences between your upbringing.

It came as a shock to everyone — except the Serpents — when the news spread that the nicest guy in Riverdale and the rage filled Serpent were dating. Some people placed a bet on how long it will last, some people showed their prejudice and disappointment, some people genuinely didn’t care.

Offhanded commentators were quickly shut off when the two of you displayed affection and love towards each other and ignored them entirely. No one could even tell you in person how much you let them down for associating with the worst one of Serpents because you always acted ignorant with too much happiness. If someone were to tell you that it was a terrible choice to date Sweet Pea, they were met with your passive-aggressive remarks on questionable choices they’ve made in the past that you somehow knew about. It got terrifying, to say the least.

The difference in your upbringing, status, or anything else didn’t matter at all. Neither of you judged each other for what you are.

Sweet Pea never questioned your unconditional kindness despite feeling upset when you let assholes slide, instead choosing to get angry at them for your sake. You never questioned his status as a gang member despite the several unpleasant rumours about Southside Serpents, instead choosing to learn what he does in their daily life and educate yourself.

The two of you fit together perfectly like a puzzle, as if you were each other’s missing piece. Arguments happen sometimes, but it’s quickly finished before the next day.

Really funny how the most healthy and non-toxic relationship in all of Riverdale is between a young Serpent and a young Humanitarian.

Unsurprisingly, the Serpents were quick to treat you as their own even before Sweet Pea had begun dating you. Your lack of judgment made every single one of them comfortable in your presence, often greeting you wherever you go and even helping you out when you need an extra hand, unafraid to be themselves knowing you wouldn’t think low of them. Your boyfriend’s friends were the most happiest at how their gang was being treated by you; all of them had nearly forgotten what it’s like to be seen as normal.

However, one question always remained in the back of their heads.

Could you get violent if pushed hard enough?

You never were.

There’s always an angelic halo floating above your head no matter where you go and no matter how aggressive your mouth gets. Sure, you spit out impressive insults sometimes when you get truly irritated by some idiotic behaviour, but that never really changed anyone’s perspective that you couldn’t hurt a fucking fly.

You were still soft, still kind. It’s impossible to even think about you having violent outbursts, it just seems too uncharacteristic of you.

Sweet Pea was always the one to throw fists when someone insults you knowing you’d never defend yourself. He’s the hot-headed while you were the cool-headed. It’s always been like that, and everyone refused to believe otherwise. After all, how can a Humanitarian go against what they usually do — helping people?

The obnoxious sound of Bulldogs’ laughter causes your smile to vanish in an instant as they approach with Reggie in front, leading them like a pack of filthy dogs as usual. Your friends stopped as well, each displaying a look of annoyance.

“What a bunch of losers sharing lil’ cupcakes,” Reggie mocks, earning snickers from his teammates.

Veronica rolled her eyes at their childishness, “Oh my god, just leave.”

“Shut up, bitch.” Reggie spat and Veronica was quick to hold her boyfriend Archie back, shaking her head to tell him it isn’t worth it. The Bulldogs laughed when the ginger sat back down, cockiness evident on their body language.

You caught Reggie eyeing the remaining cupcakes that were left on the box and quickly pulled it away before he could even reach a hand out, not noticing the way Sweet Pea was quieter than usual despite his nemesis’ arrival. “This isn’t yours, kid. Don’t even try taking one.” You sternly scolded, moving off of Sweet Pea’s lap to sit beside him closer to Reggie.

“Don’t fucking call me kid, I ain’t one.” The jock hissed, sharply glaring at you.

“Then quit acting like one.” You retort without missing a beat.

Letting out a scoff, Reggie’s lips twist up in a sneer. “At least I’m not acting like a pathetic little fag hanging out with other fags.”

“Reginald!” Cheryl shouts with disbelief, standing up abruptly at the same time Sweet Pea slammed his fist on the table while shooting Reggie a death glare. You quickly hold his bicep to calm him down, not wanting him to get in trouble. Everyone held unpleasant looks towards the nasty slur he just uttered, disgusted by his nerve.

“Fucking asshole,” Toni spat distastefully.

The Bulldogs laughed her off to themselves like a bunch of hyenas before Reggie’s gaze fell on Sweet Pea that didn’t seem to let his fist talk this time, a knowing smirk crossing his face. “What’s up, bro? You’re too quiet, we hit you too hard last time or something?”

You scowled and looked back at your boyfriend to see him glaring threateningly at Reggie, as if he was avoiding your gaze. “What is he talking about, Pea?” You question with a stern tone, then repeated it to the jock when he doesn’t answer, “What are you talking about?”

Reggie raised his brows, “You know nothing?”

“What are you talking about, Mantle.” You emphasised through gritted teeth.

Seeming amused by your slight impatience, Reggie tilts his head and mockingly chuckles under his breath. “Your little boyfriend here seems like he doesn’t know his place, so we taught him a lesson is all. You should put a tight leash on your dog if you don’t want dudes to jump him.”

Disbelief and anger morphed on your face, about to stand up from your seat to confront him more, only to feel Sweet Pea’s arm wrap around your torso to keep you in place. “Baby, don’t.” He whispered.

“What the hell, Reggie?” Betty gives him an incredulous look.

“Unfortunate that he didn’t fight back. Would’ve long been kicked out and thrown in jail if he did.” Reggie snickered along with his teammates before walking away, flipping the box of cupcakes in the process.

You glared after them with a clenched jaw and turned to Sweet Pea, your bright eyes piercing right through him that forced him to make eye contact with you despite his urge to avoid it. “Where are you hurt?” Your tone soft yet an edge to it, a suppressed anger only noticeable by Sweet Pea.

“I’m fine,” He tries to reassure you, turning to continue with his lunch.

“No, he said they jumped you.” You shake your head sternly and grabbed his shoulder to forcefully turn his body back, freezing when he yelped in pain and flinched. Sweet Pea swallowed, cursing himself internally for proving you right on accident, and looked up at you slowly. Your face was unreadable, which brought more nervousness on him.

Everyone watched as Sweet Pea sighs defeatedly and pull down his shirt to reveal the large bruises on his collarbone, your eyes widening and getting closer to inspect if it was shattered. Luckily it didn’t seem so, but your guts told you this wasn’t the only injury he got. Glancing up at Sweet Pea, you pulled up his shirt as gently as possible. Your breath hitched; a large, purple and yellow bruises littering his ribs and stomach.

“Motherfucker,” Fangs cursed in anger as rage filled him, Toni, and Jughead— however, before anyone could react, a chair loudly slammed against the floor from the sheer force of someone abruptly standing up.

A figure was sprinting towards Reggie in a flash, forcefully turning him around by the jacket before a strong fist collided with his face and he was tackled down to the floor. Gasps erupted all over the place as everyone in the cafeteria stood up in shock upon realising it was you, fearfulness appearing on their faces when you began punching him repeatedly without remorse.

Trapping Reggie under your body, you pulled him by his jacket only to punch him square on the jaw and slam his head on the concrete floor, pained noises leaving his mouth as he attempted to protect his head and face. Two Bulldogs scrambling closer to help Reggie while one of the others rushed off to call the Principal, you grabbed the arm of the guy who tried pulling you off of their leader and twisted it before kneeing his gut, making him fall to the floor on his knees. You used it as your opportunity to pull his arm to his back and dislocate him, a scream erupting from his mouth. The other guy swings his fist in your direction, which you dodged and kicked him towards a table, quickly grabbing his head to repeatedly slam his face on the hard surface.

Speechless was an understatement to describe what they felt witnessing the horrors of your rage with some trembling, some covering their eyes, and some unable to look away.

All you saw was red.

There’s nothing in your mind but to hurt the people that hurt the love of your life, dark and bloodthirsty eyes glinting dangerously as you look at Reggie’s bloodied state again. Blood pooled beneath his head as he coughed from the pain on his abdomen and head.

No one could recognise you — the gentle and soft atmosphere you usually surrounded yourself with being replaced by cold and lethal one. Rage is supposed to be foreign for someone as nice as you, but seemed fitting in this moment, as if you’ve been building it up within yourself until it exploded. The only ever push you needed was Sweet Pea being hurt to take everything out.

You were about to walk up to Reggie again before the sound of Sweet Pea’s voice calling your name reached you through the blood boiling in your head, and you stopped. Principal Weatherbee hurriedly rushed to the commotion, a look of terror spreading across his face after seeing you standing over Reggie’s beaten up state.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Weatherbee shouts, kneeling beside Reggie, who had passed out from the pain and shock.

Sweet Pea was the only one brave and courageous enough to approach you without hesitation, calling your name first to catch your attention as he gently pulled you by your forearm. “Stop, baby. That’s enough,” He whispered.

You stared Weatherbee down with calm rage and coldness that made fear dance across his face. “You teach your students to fight square and fair if they don’t want any more worse than this,” You muttered loud enough for him to hear, voice emotionless and non-remorseful.

Shifting your glare to the remaining Bulldogs that were frozen in their spot, they flinched when you stepped forward. “Gang up on my boyfriend again and I’ll fucking kill every single one of you,” You threatened with a murderous tone which told the graveness of it, making them nod their heads vigorously and care for their leader.

Weatherbee instructed them to bring Reggie and the two injured Bulldogs to the infirmary, then looked back at you with disbelief still on his expression. “Do you know what you have done? You could get expelled.”

“You think I care?” You challenged him, tilting your head. “They should’ve been expelled for what they did to Sweet Pea, but it wouldn’t matter because he’s a Southside Serpent, right? So I did exactly what they did to make them feel what it’s like, except it was just me alone. It’s a fair fight, Mr. Weatherbee. I don’t think I should be punished for making things equal between us.” You smiled, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly before rolling your eyes and walking away with Sweet Pea’s hand in yours.

Sweet Pea pulled you down to sit with him and began inspecting your bloody, busted knuckles. You look up to see not only your friends but everyone else staring, causing you to scowl. “What?” You snarled and they all looked away in fear.

Sweet Pea shushes you with a look as you returned your gaze on him, flashing him an innocent smile. Rolling his eyes with a shake of his head, he takes out a midnight blue handkerchief from his jacket pocket to gently wipe off the blood from your knuckles. “You’re lucky you didn’t break any bones on your fist.”

You chuckled, “Babe, I literally learn martial arts. And they were the ones who got their bones broken.”

“Still, shouldn’t have done that.” He replied. “Let’s go to the infirmary, you need this disinfected.”

“If you want me to actually end up killing Reginald Mantle, then I’m down.” You smirked, earning a disapproving look from him.

Sweet Pea takes your glasses that you had removed before the fight with the Bulldogs and gently places it on the bridge of your nose, adjusting it so you’ll be able to see properly. “Babe, I really don’t think you should. I love you for it, I’ll fucking watch you beat the shit out of him over again, but it wouldn’t be good news for your family business if rumours spread you have violent tendencies.” He gave you a pointed look.

You scrunched your nose, “Only when someone messes with my Sweet Pea.”

“Being violent’s my job, baby.” He chuckles.

“Not really,” You pushed up your glasses with the tip of your middle finger before leaning on the table on your elbow. “Being constantly nice isn’t my job, sweetheart. I can’t really show humanity to someone who hurts you, and I promise this wouldn’t be the last time you’ll see me take revenge for you.”

Sweet Pea sighed.

He doesn’t want your reputation to be tainted; being the bad guy is not unfamiliar for him and he was going to keep it that way if it meant nobody thought of you negatively. You’ve worked hard to build trust among the community and proved yourself a kind and helping soul, Sweet Pea didn’t want people’s perspective of you to change. But it’s actually true how people misunderstood you; all you have is basic human decency, something which some people lack, you weren’t the divine only-do-good they perceived you to be.

You’re still human despite being more helpful and nice than average, so you obviously have imperfections — that is, not being able to contain your anger when the one you love is unfairly treated. You were intelligent, but sometimes, your fists speak for yourself when assholes tests your patience too many times. Sweet Pea knew that and always tried his best to prevent you from losing your temper, although it couldn’t be helped in this case.

“You were pretty badass there, dude.” Jughead remarks after seeing you’ve calmed down, getting over the initiate shock.

Fangs agreed, “Yeah, it was dope. We didn’t know you could fight.”

“And break bones.” Kevin added, astonished.

“Fucking lit,” Toni chimes in with a box of emergency kit in her hand that she placed on the table. You raised your brows, wondering when she got out the cafeteria to get it, but smiled nonetheless.

“But wait, you said you learn martial arts.” Archie spoke next with curiosity in his expression. “Where do you learn it? Since when?”

You chuckle at their excitement and eagerness, feeling happy for the lack of judgment. Sweet Pea starts tending to your busted knuckles as you reply to the ginger head, “My father’s a professional. He’s been training me and other kids who wants to learn self defence techniques. It’s part of the business.”

“So, you’ve always known how to beat up people but never did it before?” Fangs asked.

“Yeah,” You shrug. “It’s unnecessary to result to violence all the time. No one tested my patience as far as Mantle did, he really deserved that to shut up for once. It’s absolutely effective to people who can’t mind their own damn business.” Grinning almost childishly, the gang chuckles at your new side while Sweet Pea, unamused, presses the cotton ball a little too hard on your injury causing a hiss to erupt from your mouth.

He had a glare in his eyes. “Don’t fucking do that again, you’ll get hurt. You know those scumbags would get back at you.”

Your face softened at the concerned look in his eyes, how the hands that treats you trembled slightly. “Darling,” You softly called and intertwined your fingers with his. “You know I had to. They can’t gang up on you like that, it’s not right. I couldn’t see you hurt and just let it slide.”

Sweet Pea nibbled on his lower lip nervously, still a little upset.

“I know you’re worried about my reputation and all, but I’m your boyfriend, Sweets. You come first before that.” You ruffled his hair affectionately with your uninjured hand and smiled. “I don’t care about what other people think of me, I’m still going to defend you.”

Sweet Pea stared into your sincere eyes before sighing in defeat, looking down at your injured knuckles. “Fine. But promise me you wouldn’t take any hits, I fucking hate seeing you injured.”

You chuckled at the sternness in his voice and saluted jokingly, “Copy that, boss. That can be arranged.” He rolled his eyes with a smile.

Betty raised her brows, “Okay… Has this ever happened before?” Gesturing to you.

“Uh… kind of?” You grimaced, scratching your head, as everyone gave you a questioning look. “I didn’t really beat up anyone at that time, but I might have… punched a hole through the wall.”

They widened their eyes in surprise as Cheryl drops her jaw, “The science classroom!”

You winced and nodded.

Toni laughs with a shake of her head, somehow finding the situation funny. “Who knew the nicest boy had the beast within him?” She jokes. “I’m glad to see this more human side of you. You were always so nice it was almost unsettling.”

Smiling at her, you nodded in acknowledgement. That’s a comment you always heard from people, that you were unnatural for being too kind. You were taught since childhood how to be a decent human being but to never let anyone take advantage of you, so you were just balancing it out — no one ever saw this side of yours before because they weren’t being unreasonable. You only lose your patience when pushed hard enough.

You looked at Sweet Pea to see him already getting back on treating your wound, dabbing the cotton ball gently on the cuts, making you admire his every features. It was adorable how he cared for your reputation. Made you want to make out with him right then and there, but it wasn’t appropriate for a dining place.

Everyone looks at Toni when your attention focused on Sweet Pea, shaking their heads slightly. Not certain if they were glad or scared to learn new things about you that’s been unknown for a long time.

“You don’t have to worry,” Your boyfriend speaks up without averting his gaze. “He’s not easy to piss off unless you push the wrong buttons all at once.”

“Sweet Pea’s the wrong button,” You immediately added with a grin that resembled a Golden Retriever, except it seems actually threatening. “Couldn’t care less about my haters.”

Of course, none of them disagreed to that.

The next day, Reggie walks in with his tail tucked between his legs after seeing you leaned back on your locker with Sweet Pea and the entire gang. Your mouth chewing on a bubblegum, that stupid glasses of yours resting on the bridge of your nose as usual with an outfit that reminds everyone of an elite nerd student.

Bruises and cuts littered around Reggie’s face with a prominent black eye, busted lip and swollen cheek. His steps slow to not add pressure on his injured leg and bruised torso. The students stared at him as if he was something else, probably gossiping among themselves about how he’s the one who caused the nicest boy in Riverdale seem like a completely different person.

He scoffs. You’re not the nicest boy at all.

You can’t hold that title anymore after the incident, but Reggie knew he didn’t have the guts to mock you about it when your presence alone made him cower and feel small.

As he carefully walked through the hallway, your eyes finally catches his figure and darkens almost in an instant, bright expression dropping to a blank look. Your friends were quick to become nervous seeing your almost deadly look, although Sweet Pea found it fun and amusing. Reggie looked at you as he stopped, afraid that if he walked past you’re just going to swing at him.

You cocked your head slightly, eyes burning deep into his soul as you stared at him from head to toe and circled around him like a predator watching its prey. Reggie felt uneasiness cloud his chest. He would’ve never done something like that if he knew the consequences to it.

Bumping on his shoulder that made him hiss in slight pain due to the injury on his shoulder, you returned to your place and sneered. “Where did the big bad dog go? He afraid of the faggot now or somethin’?” You laughed mockingly.

Reggie licked his lips nervously, not meeting your gaze.

You leaned your head down to forcefully look at him in the eye, grinning at the fear there. “All of this is merely a warning, Mantle. You go after my boyfriend like that again and I promise it’ll be much worse.”

Gulping, he nods his head vigorously and scrambles away when you finally decided to let him go.

Sweet Pea snickers under his breath after Reggie’s gone, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Really cool, baby. He was so fucking scared!” Smirking smugly at his laughter, you wrapped an arm back around his waist securely.

“After what happened, you probably can’t hold the nicest guy reputation anymore.” Archie remarked which causes you to laugh in agreement.

“Yeah. Besides, I don’t even know who gave me that nickname.”

“For a quick information, it was Chuck and he actually did it to mock you but it backfired.” Cheryl stated and everyone hums, finding it makes sense.

You feel a little bit glad for lashing out, knowing not everyone will perceive you as this perfectly nice guy who could do no wrong. Having that kind of expectations are truly heavy on your shoulders when you’re not even half of what they expect. Your kindness isn’t infinity nor unconditional; it wears off like any human beings, you didn’t know why people thought otherwise when it came to you. It’s impossible to keep being nice when some assholes just ganged up on your boyfriend who’s never done anything wrong.

Sweet Pea’s always been precious to you. He’s the love of your life that brightens up your day, a ray of sunshine even though he’s got anger issues and you would do anything to prevent that brightness from wearing off. Now they know not to mess with him if they don’t want to get their asses beaten.

“Hey, Sweets?”

He hummed, turning to you. “Yeah?”

You peck his lips and smile, “I love you.”

Sweet Pea smiled back, pecking your cheek. “Love you too, baby.”

Beware of the nicest guy; no one’s ever allowed to hurt your boyfriend without the consequences of getting your fist on their face.

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inmyfxith · 2 years ago

Text

Being a member of the Sully family (Youngest child version)

A/N: Female reader.

-> Requested by @itshamleth.

Part. II

Being born two years after Tuk makes you the Sully family's youngest child. Just like your siblings, you bonded with your mother and the Pandoran consciousness through the Tree of Voices instantly after your birth and developed a solid connection to Eywa and the natural world.

As the daughter of Jake, you may have inherited some human physical traits due to your father's Avatar status. One such trait could be the presence of five fingers on each hand, rather than the four fingers that are common among the Na'vi. That would maybe lead to you experiencing discrimination or prejudice due to being a hybrid of both Na’vi and human ancestry.

Just like Tuktirey, you would be bubbly and energetic, and always eager to follow your siblings on their escapades on Pandora.

You would be the spitting image of your mother, sharing her gentle and nurturing spirit, and taking care of small animals and plants that you would come across. But you would also inherit your father’s adventurous spirit and love for exploration.

You would have a mischievous streak, enjoying pushing boundaries and testing the limits, much to the dismay of your older siblings who often find themselves having to rescue you.

Neytiri would be a nurturing and caring mother, she would make sure to spend as much time with you as possible, playing around, teaching you things, and taking you on adventures in the forest. She would be overly protective of you, always making sure you stay safe and are not put in any unnecessary danger. Your bond with Neytiri would be very strong, with you looking up to your mother as a hero.

Your relationship with your father would be that of a doting father and his beloved daughter. Jake would always be there to support you and encourage your curious nature. You would feel deeply loved and protected by Jake. With you, he would be patient and understanding, always taking the time to listen to your thoughts and concerns. Despite his tough exterior, Jake would have a soft spot for you and do anything to make you happy.

Neteyam would be a role model for you, setting a good example and always looking after you. He would show a lot of patience towards you, that’s why you would have a close bond with each other. You would enjoy spending time with Neteyam, following him around, and trying to imitate his actions. He would be like another dad to you.

Neteyam was sitting with you, telling you a story for you to fall asleep while Lo’ak sneaked up behind both of you and scared you, causing you to laugh and giggle. Neteyam scolded Lo’ak for his prank, but deep down he would probably be happy to see his siblings getting along.

Lo’ak might sometimes tease you or try not to include you in his mischievous antics, but he would fiercely defend you if anyone wanted to hurt you. He might get annoyed with you at times because of your curiosity and desire to follow him on his adventures, which he might view as a burden. He might sometimes feel envious of the attention and affection you receive from your parents. But, despite all of this, Lo’ak would secretly enjoy spending time with you and teaching you new things.

Kiri would be a constant companion, showing you Pandora and teaching you about the ways of the Na’vi. She would be a nurturing and protective older sister, often helping to take care of you and looking out for your well-being. You would share her strong connection to nature and animals, always looking for new creatures to add to your collection of treasured trinkets and mementos.

You would be constantly surrounded by love and support from your parents and siblings, who would always be there to protect and guide you. Everybody would know you and find you cute because you would always smile around and be happy.

Leaving your home would be a difficult ordeal for you. You would have to say goodbye to your friends, including Norm and Max, and all you had always known.

As Tuk would fly with your mother, Neteyam would offer to take you on his own ikran so you wouldn’t have to fly with Jake (Busy finding the right road). You would feel secure with him holding you close as you soared through the air. Neteyam would comfort you if you started to cry. He would also listen patiently to your stories and never complain, even if you chattered on for hours. If you would fall asleep, he would ensure you’re comfortable.

As you flew over the village of Metkayina, you would be amazed at the azure blue color of the water that bordered Awa'atlu. When the ikrans landed, Neteyam would gently carry you to the ground where you would run around by the time your parents get off their own ikrans.

Jake would call you, and your siblings, to behave and you would instantly be impressed by Tonowari’s imposing stature and tattoos. But you would also feel frightened by Ronal’s inquisitive stare from which you tried to hide against your father’s leg, his hand caressing your hair while he dealt with the situation.

He would push you slightly behind him, to address Ronal. Neteyam would grab you by the shoulders, pulling your back against him before holding you in his arms.

Being in your brother's arms would probably give you a little more courage than if you were alone, so you didn't hesitate to stick your tongue out at Aonung when he started criticizing your tail. He would respond to it by frowning and squinting, which would scare you slightly. But you will just have to turn your head to see Lo’ak rosy cheeks.

Don't forget, "The Sullys stick together!”

You would discover Awa'atlu in the company, mainly, of your sisters. Neteyam would follow Lo'ak more willingly, and Lo'ak would follow Tsireya more willingly. It’s Tsireya who would help to bond with your own small ilu.

Because you would be with Kiri when Aonung came, sitting in the water while she admired the marine life, you would try to protect her in your own way. Pushing Aonung, Rotxo, and the others with your little hands.

You would stick your tongue out at him again after Lo'ak arrived, calling him by a stupid name such as "Bumbling oaf" or "Boogerbrain".

Turning around for you all to leave, Neteyam would reach out his hand for you to take. Before Lo'ak starts to fight. Although you saw your brothers having the upper hand, you couldn't bear to see them getting hurt. So you would approach, trying to separate them, while Kiri would try to pull you back.

And you'd end up taking a hit. They would all stop, looking at you as you started to cry, not necessarily because you were in pain but because you were scared.

This would be a way to stop the fight since Neteyam would kneel down in front of you to see if you were not injured. He would take you in his arms, not paying attention to his split lip from the blows.

Seeing Jake coming in the distance, Aonung and his comrades would run off, leaving the Sullys together. Obviously, Jake would hold you, stroking your hair while barking at Lo'ak and Neteyam for an explanation. He would take you back to your mother, who would take care of you for the rest of the day.

Tag -> @eywas-daughter

#avatar #avatar the way of water #awow #avatar headcanons #jake sully #neytiri #neteyam #lo'ak #kiri #tuk #tuktirey #headcanons #tsireya #aonung

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bones4thecats · 11 months ago

Note

i hope I'm not late to request!!

Can I ask for apollo, anubis (if you write for him), and Nostradamus with Aphrodite child reader? She's as pretty as her mother and She have this crystal eye that look like Athanasia from suddenly I became a princess, thank youu have a great day

A/N: Nope, Anon, you are not to late to request this! Loved this idea ngl!! I hope you like how it turned out!

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

☀️ You had known Apollo ever since you two were young

☀️ Aphrodite had you with a human long ago, and because of this, you were found far weaker than others

☀️ Though, you had proven yourself and earned the title as the Greek Goddess of Faith

☀️ Apollo met you when he was working and his followers were starting to build, slowly, but when Zeus ordered you in, they grew in a couple days by four times

☀️ He was grateful for you, and despite knowing you were Aphrodite's daughter and were known far and wide just for your beauty, he saw everything behind that

☀️ The Sun God loved how peaceful and calm you were whenever someone tried tearing you down with mention of your father

☀️ He also loves looking into your eyes, one being a solid crystal blue and the other being a crisp (e/c)

☀️ Aphrodite loved how delicate Apollo was with you, and approved of your relationship very quickly

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🐶 Anubis had heard about you from his fellow Pantheon members

🐶 You were known mostly as the daughter of Aphrodite, and your title as the Greek Goddess of Growth was left in the sands of the dessert in favor for your mother

🐶 When he first saw you sitting behind a pyramid of his, just meditating while helping a small sprout grow from the sand-coated ground

🐶 He smiled and jumped onto you, and that was when he saw your eyes

🐶 One a beautiful (e/c) and the other a shimmering and gorgeous blue, a spitting image of your mother's eyes

🐶 Anubis smiled, introduced himself, and began to speak about your role and life

🐶 It surprised you that he wanted to talk about you and your life instead of your mother, her life, and the beauty you both shared

🐶 He and you would run out to meet one another often, and when news of your relationship broke out, it angered Aphrodite that you would lie to her that much

🐶 But, she eventually forgave you and accepted Anubis, despite the small bits of flirting she does

🐶 She's trying to stop, she swears! Force of habit!

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🎙️ He teased you about being in your mother's shadow constantly, and it annoyed you so much that you punched him through the wall

🎙️ Your mother didn't bother flirting with him, as he annoyed her to the point where she said;

" I'd rather give my body to the Serpent than lust after that annoying bastard. "

🎙️ Nostradamus would watch as you got praised as your role as the Goddess of Sound, as you helped others hear and creatures connect with others

🎙️ While he's an annoying gremlin, he does seem to like you quite a bit

🎙️ From holding your hand while he runs his errands to hiding behind you as he teases the Gods, he shows affection for you in the oddest ways

🎙️ He adores your one eye, saying it looked like a sapphire and diamond combined into one beautiful eye

🎙️ Nostradamus is a massive tease, if that hasn't gotten pointed out enough. He teases you constantly, no matter what it's about

🎙️ Aphrodite, your mother, is upset you liked this guy, she would rather have you date Loki than him! But, seeing the way you and him look at one another, she cannot deny she sees, and feels, the love between you both

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55sturn · 9 months ago

Text

✮ COVERED IN YOU

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis: in which history has a tendency to repeat itself for matt and y/n, and this time y/n’s had enough of the back and forth because despite fighting it for years, she’s in love with matt, but does he love her back?

warnings: swearing, matt is the epitome of avoidant attachment, no established relationship, ex situationship to enemies to something complicated, making out, suggestive, alcohol consumption, angry!matt, mentions of sex.

THIRD PERSON POV

to anyone that dared to ask, most people would imply, rather than flat out explain, that matt and y/n hated one another for good reason. no one would ever divulge into full detail what the good reason was.

most believed it was feelings that were never dealt with, or lingering resentment from a fight that was never acknowledged. a lot of people had their theories, a plethora of them even. but no one but matt, y/n, and matt’s brothers knew the real cause.

when matt and y/n were in their senior year of high school, the year it happened, the two were close. like undeniably and i breakable bond close. they were attached at the hip. but one night things changed when the two of them shared a kiss at some party that eventually led to a much more intimate moment, it being their first of that kind.

from then on, they grew closer romantically. they went on dates, they kissed, held hands, spent hours talking to each other. all for matt to call it off in the middle of them laying in the yard watching the stars.

y/n was confused, to say the least, because she was so sure matt was going to ask her to be his girlfriend after nearly a year of them being whatever they had been. they had already said their “i love you’s”, matt just didn’t think a label was necessary so she waited.

“i just don’t see this going any further than what it is right now.” matt sighs, his gaze flickering from the stars above to the girl beside him, he felt guilty lying to her because in all honesty, she was the center of his universe. but he and his brothers had finally agreed to move to los angeles the second graduation finished, and he wasn’t going to put her though the pain of a long distance relationship.

“that doesn’t make any sense matt, you told me you loved me.” the girl whimpers, tears welling along her waterline.

“i figured that’s what you wanted me to say.” he hums, his voice void of all emotion as he stares ahead, trying not to give into the voice in the back of his mind telling, screaming at him, to take it all back, to tell her the truth.

“so you don’t actually love me?”

“not in the way you want me to.”

“fuck you matt, i gave myself to you, and this is what you do?”

“i’m sorry.”

“at least look at me while you rip my heart out.”

and from that night onward, the two haven’t shared much more than two words. after the triplets moved to los angeles, they lost contact with the girl for a while but nick refused to let up and soon brought her back into their lives after he found out that she had moved to a deeper part of los angeles for the social marketing courses she was studying.

matt, at first, despised nick for bringing her back into his life. he felt like he had finally gotten rid of every touch she left in his life, like he had finally taken a breath that wasn’t full of her for the first time in his life. just for her to resurface.

they had been so consumed by their feelings, which y/n felt was the worst part of it all. she believed love was never meant to be all consuming. and her love for matt, consumed every part of her and when he accepted that love without giving it back, it spit out someone she didn't want to know.

but she learned to love the version of herself that didn't know matt, that didn't want to know matt. but here she was, unfortunately thrusted back into his life and being forced to be someone that knows him again.

the two found endlessly for the first little while, constantly bickering over things that held no genuinely purpose to them, they fought for the sake of fighting. of hearing each other's voices. but when matt found y/n standing on their front step, drenched from the rain and biting back tears, his heart clenched and he softened up around the edges, letting the very clearly distraught girl into his house without hesitation.

he soon learned that the guy she was seeing had only used her as a rung on his ladder in his social climb due to her relationship with the triplets, and on top of that, the internship that she worked hard for that she had landed at one of the top social media networks, had fired her without so many as a good reason.

that night, they rekindled their friendship. they began to lean on each other again, finding solace in each other’s arms. but y/n was apprehensive of getting close again, she couldn’t go through being heartbroken by him again. but he reassured her that he was there and he wasn’t leaving again.

PRESENT TIME

y/n laughed as her and the triplets made their way down the busted sidewalk that led toward nate’s house, the four them of had flown back to boston for a couple weeks due to being overworked and homesick, and what better way to celebrate being home? a party in their childhood friend’s garage. the cold february air nipped at y/n’s hands and cheeks as she struggled to keep warm, and matt took notice of this, falling behind the group to hold her and keep her warm. once she felt like she was warm enough to keep walking without shivering, the two made their way up nate’s driveway, and were welcomed with the smell of beer, weed, and stale cigars.

as the party went on, more people arrived, some y/n knew well, and some she was only acquainted with. there were a few girls from shared high school classes present, and y/n spent most of her time catching up with them, sitting matt or playing beer pong with nate, but there was one blonde girl in particular that kept eyeing y/n. the nasty look on her face made it evident that she didn’t like how close y/n and matt were.

y/n knew the girl from high school, she was friends with matt’s ex fling nicole, and had always seemed to have a strong disliking for the girl so close to matt. but y/n brushed it off, figuring it was just jealousy because y/n stayed close with the triplets and she didn’t. but y/n was proven wrong when matt went to the bathroom and the blonde girl approached her.

“why are you so close to matt? it’s like you’re practically sitting in his lap.” the girl, that y/n remembered was named alara spat.

“what does it matter to you?”

“seeing as he’s my boyfriend, i’d rather not have a random girl hanging off him.”

“since when have you and matt been dating?”

“about a month, we hooked up the last time he was home and now we’re keeping it lowkey.”

“matt’s never even mentioned you.”

“well now you know to stay away from him, m’kay?” the girl laughs, before walking away, leaving y/n angry and upset as she stares at the beer she just opened. y/n scoffs and goes to throw her beer away as matt reentered the garage, immediately noticing her furrows brows.

“you okay?” matt hums, reaching out to brush the hair from her face as she steps back.

“don’t fucking touch me. i cant believe you.” she spits, leaving matt dumbfounded as he watches her walk over to nate, the two of them sharing a quick hug before she exits the garage.

matt’s eyes dart around the room, meeting alara’s pleased smirk as matt storms his way over to the blonde girl, gripping her bicep as he drags her to the corner of the garage.

“what the fuck did you say to y/n?”

“i told her the truth.” alara laughs, watching as matt’s expression grows angrier.

“please enlighten on what you believe is the truth? because the last i remember, you’re just some girl i fucked six months ago and then blocked when you went psychotic.”

“i told her we’re dating.”

“jesus christ alara, i just got her back into my life and you come in and fuck everything up.”

“well now you can be with me, matty.”

“no. you’re always going to be the random hookup that i regret and wish never happened. stay the fuck away from me.” matt seethes, dropping the girl’s arm and quickly leaving the garage, hoping to catch up to y/n. as he runs down the sidewalk, he spots her a couple feet ahead and he picks up his pace until he’s right behind her.

“y/n wait.”

“save it matt. i don’t want to hear whatever excuse for breaking my heart, again, that you’ve got ready.”

“it’s not an excuse. i’m not with her. she’s some chick i fooled around with six months ago, before you and i fixed things.”

“i don’t care matt, you and i aren’t together!” the girl yells, turning around to face as tears slide down her rosy, cold cheeks, prompting matt to delicately take her face in his hands as he wipes the tears. y/n’s eyes squeeze shut as she tries to find the willpower to pull away from his touch, but his hands are warm and she misses his hands on her and it’s harder to pull away with every passing second.

“i know we’re not together, but i want us to be. i fucked up the first time we had something because i listened to the fear in my head. since the night you showed up crying in the rain, five months ago, there hasn’t been another girl in my life. you are the only person i love, and want to love. i am completely covered in you. i am consumed by you. so please listen to me when i say there is nobody else, and there never will be.”

“matt, i’m scared. you made me let you in again, you made me love you again, and there is this fear in my heart that you’re going to push me away again. that you are going to tell me you love and not mean it again, that you are going to keep breaking me over and over again.”

“i know baby, but i don’t want to let you go again, i fucked up, and i don’t ever want to fuck uo with you again. so if you’ll let me, i will prove to you that i’m here for good. if you let me be your boyfriend, i will promise to never break your heart again. please just give me one more chance to love you right.”

“okay.” y/n whispers, her guard growing thin as matt whispers promises against her lips, and that fear is still there and alive, but how can she say no when he looks so pretty staring at her with frozen cheeks and tears threatening to fall? so, she gives in, pressing her lips to his to seal the proclamations and promises he makes, hoping that there will be some truth to them.

taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee

taglist: @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @cutenote @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @33sturniolo @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi @wronqness99 @sturniolossss @hesvoid3434 @mattsfavwh3re @inlovewithmattstur

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo oneshots #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x fem!reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo imagine

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