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punkshort · 8 months ago

Note

i’m the anon who asked about the request! if you decide to do it, i’d absolutely wait forever😂 it’s very angsty tho, so the idea was for outbreak joel who doesn’t get the happy ending. reader who was head over heels in love coping with his death, maybe flashbacks to show the moments of reader seeing him die? idkidk the idea is very vague, sorry if it’s too sad!! if so maybe reader seeing him die was just a terrible nightmare & he’s there waking them up & helping them through a meltdown?

i’ve been craving for some emotional torture for wtv reason😭😭 thank you for even considering requests!🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Thank you for this request! It's my first one, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I had to take the out you gave me and make this a nightmare because I am a big ol' softie and I won't apologize for it, but I will apologize for taking so long to write it 😂

I hate when you're right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him into leaving Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.

Warnings: major character (Joel) death - but it is just a nightmare - don't read if you think that will still upset you, angst, language, violence, descriptions of blood/gore/death scene

WC: 2.5K

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

You knew it was childish. You knew it wasn't essential. But you also desperately wanted to feel more comfortable, and was that really such a crime? To want to feel like yourself again? To want to wear clothes that you liked? That fit you properly? Jackson was well stocked with essentials, clothes included, but the clothes the men picked up on patrol were... utilitarian, to say the least. They grabbed the biggest and the warmest clothes so that it afforded more people the opportunity to use them, but you were beginning to grow tired of tucking men's oversized shirts into your pants, the material bunching up at your waist and twisting around as you walked, constantly trying and failing to feel comfortable in your own skin.

You thought Joel would be more open to the idea of heading outside the walls on your day off. You even teased him with the promise of picking up some new underwear, but he didn't fall for it. He fought you tooth and nail the whole evening, his voice lifting over yours angrily to explain how there's been an influx of raiders the past few weeks, that everyone agreed to lay low until they passed through, not wanting to draw attention or pick any unwanted fights. But you persisted. You always did, and you eventually wore him down when you threatened to leave without him.

Why was it such a crime to want to feel comfortable? It was just two people, you could lay low and go unseen, no problem. You've done it countless times before.

You had hoped he would have gotten over it by morning, but you were wrong. He hardly made eye contact with you during breakfast, skirting expertly around you in your kitchen, mumbling under his breath as he sipped his coffee and only shooting you angry looks when your back was turned.

The air was crisp and the woods were peaceful. You thought that would surely turn his mood around. He always appreciated being out with nature, living off the land. As much as he loved living in Jackson, he couldn't deny that part of himself that felt useful, that felt a sense of accomplishment by surviving out in the wild.

"C'mon, are you really gonna act like this all day?" you teased as you held up another shirt against your body before determining it was the right size and then tossed it in a pile with the others.

He was standing at the storefront window with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. "Don't know what you mean."

You rolled your eyes and looked around the store, spotting a table of underwear with a grin. You lightly skipped over and tossed to the side the pairs that looked far too dusty so you could look at the ones underneath. Clearing your throat, you held up a pair of bright red stain underwear. He turned around and you saw it: it was fast, he hid it well, but you still saw it. That all too familiar excited look in his eye.

"Don't you like them?" you asked with a playful pout. He furrowed his brow at you like he was annoyed, and maybe he was, but you still saw the heat beginning to crawl up his neck.

"They ain't practical."

You gave him a defeated sigh and strolled over to your pile of clothes, your fingertips daintily holding the undergarment out to him. "No? Then what are they?"

His eyes shifted from yours to the red material in your hand and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

"Useless," he croaked, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You got a little closer, letting the soft fabric glide against the back of his hand when you dropped your arm to your side.

"Oh, yeah?" you said breathily, and you watched his eyelids flutter at your tone. "Then I guess it wouldn't matter if I brought them home and let you rip them off me."

He stepped forward, a growl emitting from his chest, low and deep, when at the exact same time, you both heard shouting outside the store. Swiveling both your heads towards the glass storefront, your blood ran cold when you saw six heavily armed men advancing towards you.

"Shit," he muttered, his arm pulling your shoulder down just in time to avoid the cascade of bullets that rained down upon you. You laid face down on the rough carpet, covering the back of your head with your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the shooting to stop. Joel tugged on your arm and you opened your eyes in a panic.

"Follow me!" he shouted, army crawling towards the registers, and you dutifully followed behind, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Once you made it, the counter offering some, but not much, safety, the both of you pulled out your guns and double checked your ammo.

"Alright, when they stop to reload-"

"I know," you said, cutting him off. You've both been in this situation before. You knew what to do.

Holding your rifle upright and against your chest, you breathed deep, trying to steady your hands until the bullets slowed and you heard more shouting. Joel nodded to you and you both sprung up from the floor, pulling your rifles against your bodies in sync and lining up your targets.

Patience is a virtue. The amount of ammunition they wasted on the two of you was laughable when you each caught one of them between the eyes, leaving four against two.

You thought you would be able to get another shot off but Joel tugged your arm and you slinked back to the floor as a shower of bullets rained over you once again.

"You good?" he asked, and you nodded, gasping for air. Your hands began to stabilize when the shock wore off. You were in the zone.

Pressing both your backs against the small counter, you remained calm and waited out your attackers. Glass shards tinkled and scattered behind you. Bullets pinged against the metal shelving, ricocheting into the drywall.

"Assault rifles for two people? Really?" you muttered, more so to yourself, but Joel heard you.

"Told you this was a bad fuckin' idea," he said angrily.

When there was another brief pause, he looked to you again and nodded. At the same time, you rose up and took aim, firing on your attackers once again. Joel made his shot, you didn't. Three down, three to go.

"Fuck," you grumbled, reloading your rifle even though you still had rounds left.

"Focus," he scolded.

The men sounded like they were getting closer. Their voices were louder. Clearer. The shots were deafening. You prayed they weren't inside the store, because you hadn't planned an exit strategy. Without warning, Joel stood up and fired a shot. You heard a man scream and then a loud thud. It sounded like the man was just on the other side of the counter.

"That's not the plan," you seethed at him when he dropped back down next to you.

"Didn't have a choice, he was 'bout to jump us," he sneered.

Two against two.

When the shots slowed down, you held your breath, looking at Joel from the corner of your eye. He held his palm up to you silently, signaling for you to stay where you were. You heard boots crunching slowly against glass and your heart leapt into your throat. They were in the store.

You shot Joel a panicked look but he just shook his head, focusing on their footsteps, calculating how far away they were.

"Come out now and no one gets hurt," a man's deep voice called out. He was close.

Joel clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. You knew that look. It was the look of a man who was about to do something stupid. But before you could stop him, before you could reach out to him and hold him back, he stood up and took aim.

One shot. That was all you heard when Joel slumped to the floor next to you, clutching his stomach as dark red blood poured from the wound. Your eyes went wide and you saw red. Without thinking, you stood up and shot, taking one of the two men down with a yelp. The remaining raider ducked behind a display, and you dropped your rifle in favor of your handgun. Crouching low to the ground, you inched forward, careful of any broken glass that would give your position away. When you were on the other side of the display, you heard the man's labored breaths. He was scared. He was out of his element. And you had him right where you wanted him.

Silently tucking the gun in the back of your pants, you slid your hunting knife out from your ankle holster. You took a deep breath and lunged forward, driving the knife deep into the man's chest.

He dropped his gun and clutched weakly at your hands, but it was no use. His blood poured from the wound when you yanked your knife out with a grunt, and you watched as his hands slowly slid back down to his sides, his eyes still wide open and staring up at the ceiling.

You smirked, feeling victorious for only a moment before you remembered Joel. Dropping your knife, you rushed back to his side, only to find his face pale and his hands stained dark red.

"Joel!" you cried out, pressing your palms against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. His eyes drifted towards you, softening when he saw you were alive and unharmed. That you were going to make it.

Panic consumed you. Your heart was slamming against your ribs as you fumbled with your backpack, trying to find your first aid kit through the tears.

"I love you," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"Don't start with that, you're gonna be fine."

"Baby," he said weakly, and you choked back a sob.

"Hold on," you told him, still searching in your pack.

"Look at me," he said, and your hands stilled for a moment before you dragged your eyes back to him, your lower lip trembling as you took in his deteriorating state.

"I need to-" you began, but stopped to take in a shaky breath. "I need to patch you up and get you to the horses."

"No, you don't," he said softly, and more tears spilled from your eyes.

"Yes, I do. I gotta-"

"I ain't gonna make it, sweetheart," he slurred, and you could see by the amount of blood he was losing that he was right. But still, you pressed your palms against the gunshot wound, your fingers slipping through his thick and sticky blood.

"Don't say that. I can't do this without you," you whimpered, and closed your eyes for a brief moment. You felt his fingertips weakly grip your chin and you forced your eyes back open.

"Yes, you can," he said as firmly as he could. He was so pale and weak and it was making your stomach turn.

You shook your head, about to argue with him, but he stopped you.

"You keep goin', you hear me?" he said, and still, you shook your head from side to side, small sobs slipping past your lips. "Don't let this world win. You... go on and keep fightin'. Please. Be happy, baby. For me."

"No!" you cried out, spittle dripping from your lips now, mixing with your tears. "I won't! I-I can't!"

"You can," he repeated, and gave you a weak smile. "I'm ready, baby. It'll be okay."

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, the tears leaking out, hot and angry on your cheeks as you sobbed over him, clutching his hand in yours so tightly, like if you squeezed hard enough, you could give him your lifeforce. Give him your breath. But moments later, his grip weakened and when you opened your eyes, his head slumped to the side and his lifeless eyes stared off into the distance.

"Joel!" you screamed, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat with tears still streaming down your face. You looked to your side, where he normally slept, but he wasn't there. Panic squeezed your throat, your chest fucking hurt, but you flung the blankets off you and ran towards the door. Still not hearing any sounds, you raced down the stairs, almost tripping in the process but you had a grip on the railing to keep you steady.

When your eyes finally landed on his familiar form stretched out on the couch, his back to you, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Reality came back to you now. You had your fight about leaving Jackson, but he won and you slept apart. You never left. He never got shot. It was all just a horrible dream.

You stumbled over to the couch, your tears unstoppable, the nightmare too vivid, too real. Your trembling hands clutched his shoulder as you fell to your knees on the floor, shaking him awake.

"What?" he grumbled, clearly still pissed off about your fight.

"I'm sorry!" you sobbed loudly, and when he realized something was wrong, he whipped around to face you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I-I had-" you began, then you hiccupped, cutting yourself off. His face was etched with concern as he forced himself up and cupped your face.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, the fear in his eyes reflecting back to you as you looked at him, still not sure what was real and what wasn't.

"I had a nightmare," you finally managed to get out. "About our fight. That we... we went out like I wanted and-and-" you collapsed into another fit of sobs, your shoulders shaking violently.

"Hey, it's alright," he soothed, pulling you up and into his lap and rubbing your back. You pressed your tear stained face into his neck, inhaling deeply, grounding yourself. He was alive. He was here. Everything was fine.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your throat still tight but your tears were slowing down. "I'm sorry we fought. I don't wanna go out anymore. I don't need new clothes, it was stupid, I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," he said, pulling you tightly against his chest, "I'm sorry we fought, too. I just wanna keep us safe."

"I know, you're right," you said, pulling back a bit and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Will you come back to bed?"

"Yeah," he replied with half a smirk. "'Course I'll come back to bed, baby. Don't cry, it's alright."

You let him lead you up the stairs and to your bedroom, your side of the bed still damp with sweat but it didn't bother you. Joel was safe and sound and in your arms and you didn't care if you had to wear a potato sack for the rest of your life, as long as you had Joel, nothing else mattered.

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cowboybarzy · 10 months ago

Note

enemies to lovers with mat with D 13 and D 22. media girl x star player where mat loves to get under her skin because he’s dumb and can’t admit he likes her. she breaks up with her horrible bf and one night when she is out with the team something changes

thank you so much for the request!! this turned out very smutty but also a long part of plot so I hope you like it <3

13. “Let me help you forget that jerk.” & 22. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me.”

word count: 6.5k

warnings: drinking, jerk ex boyfriend, SMUT (18+)

"Oh, hey guys." The elevator door opened and a bunch of laughing hockey players stumbled out.

"Hey, (y/n)! Not going back to your room are you?" Oliver broke from the conversation to greet you.

"Yeah, actually. Kinda tired," you replied, hoping the stained tears you'd just dried in the bathroom weren't that obvious.

"Oh, come on. The night is young. Come out with us." He pointed to the guys behind him, including Mat, who looked at you with an expression you couldn't make out.

"Had a bad night so far, I think I just want to stay in," you said, shaking your head and forcing a smile.

"Well, what a better way to end it with a drink?," Matt Martin chimed in, his charming smile almost convincing you.

"I think she doesn't want to come. So let her be," the other Mat said, not even looking at you, and turned away from you and started shooing the guys in the direction of the exit. The guys let it go and with a wave they started following Mat.

As you watched them walk away, the tone in which Mat had said it sunk in and the sadness you had just felt turned into anger. Looking back on the relationship you had with Mat over the past few months, you could tell you really didn't have any. You were friendly with all of the other guys, coming to work was always a blast and with being around the team so often you had developed many inside jokes and gotten to know most of the very well. Except Mat. You could tell he had a problem with you but you didn't know why when everyone else was so nice to you. When you walked into a room and Mat was joking around and acting goofy, this side of him immediately stopped when he saw you. He was always acting quiet and when it came time for you to film content with him, he was acting like his normal self when the camera was on, but the second it was off and it was just the two of you, he was back to quiet and mumbled backhanded comments.

"You know what," you snapped out of your thoughts. "I think this night does call for a few drinks."

Wally turned around with a victory shout and threw his arm around you when you caught up with them.

***

"Alright, now tell me why you're downing these shots like you want to black out." Wally's face was already a bit blurry when you moved your head too quickly, but you finally forgot your boyfriend. Sorry. Ex-boyfriend.

That's right. After three years, you finally saw through all of the red flags and gaslighting and had enough of his bullshit. Or maybe it was the fact that you caught him cheating that made you realize all of these things.

"Oh, no, no, no. I am not drunk enough to spill my secrets to you." Wally acted all offended and again tried to the information out of you and finally flagged down the waitress to get you more shots. She delivered quickly, placing four more shots in front of you.

The first went down easy, so the second should go down just as smoothly. But you never got to that. "I think you've had enough to drink," Mat's voice carried over all of the noise from the bar. Your head snapped in his direction and you saw him staring at you intensely.

"He speaks." You lifted the little glass in the air. "And who are you to tell me I've had enough to drink?"

"You couldn't even get that question out without slurring, so maybe that." His stare somehow got more intense the longer you stared back. It might have something to with the fact that you crept the shot glass closer and closer to your lips.

"You don't like me. And I don't listen to guys who don't like me." You closed your eyes and took the shot. "Anymore."

"And there it is. Boyfriend?" Wally got your attention again and slightly pushed him.

"I don't wanna talk about him." You pouted and while Wally grinned victoriously, the other guys went back to their own conversation. A few moments passed, where you started to fast track through your memories of your relationship. The good and bad ones, but the bad ones stood out. "Why are all guys such idiots?"

All six of the guys turned their head, looking at you with a playful smile. "Yep, I am suddenly extremely aware that I am sitting at a table with just guys. Excuse me."

You stumbled through the bar to the bathroom, your head was spinning like crazy, not just because of the alcohol but also because despite how your ex-boyfriend mistreated you these past few years, it was still a loss you felt deeply. He was an ass, but you loved him and that didn't just go away in a night. You had no idea how long you stood in the bathroom, trying not to fall over but also gossiping with a few girls that found you in the bathroom with whom you had now become friends with.

A loud knock and call of your name disrupted the rather nasty conversation about your ex-boyfriend. You slowly opened the door to reveal Mat standing there with a glass of water. "You ok?"

"Why do you care, Mathew?!"

"Oh my god, are you the cheating boyfriend? She told us how cruel you are so get the hell out of here! You don't deserve her!," the blonde girl, whose name you'd unfortunately already forgotten and who was one of the sweet girls listening to your little rant, pushed herself through the door and in between the two of you.

"What?," Mat said perplexed looking at you for help.

"No, that's just Mat. What do you want?"

"You've been in here for a while. Thought you might need some water."

"No, thanks." You turned away, walking deeper into the bathroom to sit on the little couch. Your head started spinning again. Why was he being nice to you?

"Here." When you looked up, the girls were gone and only Mat stood in the bathroom handing over that glass of water that looked absolutely delicious. You crossed your arms, pouting, to which he rolled his eyes and placed the glass on the counter. "He cheated? Don't tell me you're still with him?"

"No! I might have stayed with him longer than I should have, but I do have some self respect. And, again, why do you care?"

"Jesus Christ, (y/n), why the hell do you think I don't care?," he shouted at you to which you let out a loud chuckle.

"Are you kidding? You hate me. Fine. I don't care." You did. "But don't come in here pretending to care and make a fool out of me."

"What are you talking about?" You scoffed, jumping to your feet, the alcohol giving you the courage.

"What am I talking about? Are you kidding? You never talk to me. You never even look at me. You stop joking around when I'm in the same room. You're visibly in pain when I have to take some pictures and videos of you. I don't know what I ever do to you, but whatever. I don't care anymore. Clearly it's your problem."

He sighed, then took a deep breath. Still never looking directly at you. "See, you're not even looking at me now! So get out. Have a laugh about my little break down in here but leave me alone!"

"I don't hate you," he simply said, making you even more angry. He was so insufferable. Always brooding, giving you dirty looks and now he says he doesn't hate you? That's exactly what you told him, listing every time he made you feel small and unliked by him.

"From day one! I walked in, thinking this was going to be the best job ever and yes it is! But the one guy I actually wanted to like me turned out the best the biggest asshole. But that's not what everyone else says about you, so why are you so mean to me? You're not like this with the rest of the social team, so it must be me! What did I do to you? Why is it just me?," you continued to now yell at him. But he stayed silent. He was on edge though, itching to tell you but fighting to hold back whatever he wanted to say. "You know what? I have had too much to drink to have this conversation right now."

"No you didn't," he replied, pressing his lips together.

"What? Were you not there starring daggers into me while I took like six shots with Wally?"

"I had the bartender switch to water. Half the time you were drinking water. Not counting your Long Island iced tea, you maybe two shots." Hm. Maybe that's why you didn't feel as drunk as you normally would be after that many shots. Your surprised faced actually made him chuckle for a split second. "Yeah. Wally didn't notice either. On that, why the fuck were you taking shots with Wally?"

"Because he offered. And he likes me. And I like him." He looked like you just stabbed a knife in his heart. "Why? You jealous?"

He didn't answer and your heart skipped a beat.

"Why'd you do it?," you asked quietly, concerning the fact that he had made the bartender switch to water.

"Why do you ask so many questions?"

"Maybe if you would answer one once in a while I would have so many! So why did you do it? Why are you jealous?" Silence. Again. And you started to get annoyed again. "God, Mathew would you just answer the damn question! You are such a difficult person. Why did you-"

"Because I like you!," he yelled back, shutting you up.

"W-what?," you asked, very confused. "That doesn't even make sense."

"I know." At least he admitted it. His face grew soft and he closed his eyes for a second. "Let's go, I'll walk you back to the hotel."

"No! I'm not going anywhere with you," you protested, crossing your arms again. He rolled his eyes.

"Come on."

"No. Not before you explain to me why the hell you would say you like me when these past few months clearly state otherwise."

"I-." But he wasn't able to say more than that.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Disappoint you brushed past him heading for the door, but before you could make it, his hand grabbed you by the arm, spinning you to face him. His large hands grabbed you by the sides of your face and pulled you into him until your lips met.

The act caught you off guard so it took a couple of seconds to react, but when you did you practically melted in his touch. All the pain you had felt from your breakup suddenly vanished and only warm fuzzy feelings remained. His lips were so soft and warm, you wanted to explore them further. He must have felt the same way as he began to open his mouth with a sigh. His tongue brushed over your lips and elicited a small whimpering from you in response. You quickly became addicted to his touch and lifted your own hands to feel him.

"Holy shit." You both ripped apart turning to the familiar voice. The bathroom door was open and in the frame stood Ryan who was desperately trying not to laugh. "Sorry." But just as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared again.

Stunned at what just happened, not only the kiss but also that you'd been caught, you stood in that bathroom silently. Your brain went 100 mph, but to your surprise after the eventful day you had, the only thing in your mind was that kiss.

Mat broke the silence first. "Will you let me walk you back now?"

You only managed to nod and let Mat guide you out of that bathroom. He went to go talk to the guys quickly, letting them know that you'd be leaving. You were too embarrassed to face the other, knowing that Ryan probably told them what he saw, so you awkwardly stood by the exit until Mat came back to quickly escort you outside.

"Your purse."

"Oh." You accepted it, hanging it over your shoulder. You didn't even realize you forgot it. "Thank you."

The short walk back to the hotel was silent, even the elevator ride up to your floor and up until you reached your room. "Thanks for walking me back. Good night."

You started closing the door, but Mat interrupted. "I don't hate you."

"Okay."

He chuckled. "That's it? No millions of questions?"

"You're confusing me. And I'm tired. It's late? I don't even-"

"It's 11:30," he answered your thought looking at his watch.

"Oh. What? That's it?"

He chuckled again. "Yeah you were drinking at lightning speed."

"Well, I was trying to forget a certain someone."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry that he cheated on you. You don't deserve that."

You tried to smile as a thank you, but it turned out very sad. Mat's hand reached out to brush some hair out of your face and your heart clenched at that gesture. "Did it work?"

"What?"

"Forgetting him?"

"The alcohol? No." It was definitely not the alcohol that helped you forget him, but the person standing in front of you. You thought he understood what he meant when his hand came up again to brush that same strand of hair out of your face again, but lingered slowly creeping back to the same place it was nested when you kissed at the bar.

"Want some help?" He suddenly stood very close to you. In the last few minutes he had entered your room enough to push you in and have the door close behind the two of you. And you hadn't even realized. You only had eyes for him. Or his eyes, which sparkled a desire full green. The tension that had been building ever since your fight at the bar almost became unbearable, which is probably what gave him the confidence to ask the question and for you to reply as you did. "Will you let me help you forget that jerk?"

You took the last step needed to stand flush against him and within a second your lips were on his. This kiss may have started out as passionately as the one at the bar but it quickly grew into something hotter.

Mat pushed you further into the room until you stumbled into the dresser onto which he lifted you with ease. You legs wrapped around his hips tightly so he had no room to escape, not that he had any plans to do so as his tongue licked into your mouth. You couldn't hold back a moan as Mat devoured your mouth like he couldn't get enough of you, your fingers digging into his soft brown hair.

You kissed for endless minutes, but when Mat eventually pulled away, your chest heaved, lungs pulling in much-needed oxygen. He breathed harshly, his mouth not retreating too far so you could feel him breathing against your lips. He nibbled on your lower lip, the feel of his teeth sinking into your swollen flesh making you moan softly. "Such pretty sounds," he mumbled in between teasing bites. "All for me?"

"Mhm," you whimpered, nudging your lips closer to his, desperate for his touch. He chuckled, but couldn't help but kiss you back, him too needy to feel this passion again.

More kisses, moans, and whimpers passed until you slowly inched your hips to the edge of the dresser until you finally met his. A deep groan rumbled through Mat's body upon contact and with his big hands he placed on your ass he pulled you even closer, rubbing his growing bulge against your quickly heating center. The layer of both of your jeans got in the way of the best possible friction and both of you realized that the clothes issue needed to be solved as fast as possible.

His mouth broke from yours to explore your jawline and neck. Just as your hands moved from his hair to open up his jeans, one of his hands moved to pull you v-neck down one shoulder, exposing more skin. Small moans climbed up your throat as his tongue started nibbling and licking your skin. "Mat," his name was barely a whisper, but he heard it and picked up on the plea to speed things up. He stepped away just enough so you could comfortably take off your sweater and bra in which time he pulled his pants down.

You didn't have a lot of time to react to the sight of his erect cock straining his underwear that already looked too tight from his thick thighs before Mat stepped back into you capturing your lips for another intoxicating kiss. You arched your back when his grabby hands got ahold of your breast, massaging it and rubbing your nipple between his fingers.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me? How could you ever think I hated you?," he asked out of breath as he continued to rub his hard cock over your center.

"Well, there is the time you-"

"Let's not get into this now, eh?" You laughed, but agreed since what he was doing to you felt way too good to stop. "But let's get you out of the pants and onto this extremely comfortable bed."

With that, he lifted you in the air walking you over to the bed and throwing you onto the mattress. Before dropping to his knees with a mischievous grin, he tore his sweater off then got to work on tearing your jeans off as well.

"God, I have been waiting to get my hands on you since the moment you first looked at me," he groaned as if he couldn't believe this moment was real.

"Then why-"

"Shush, I wasn't being mean to you," he interrupted.

"I was going to say, then why are you talking so long to take me?" The right corner of his lips curled up and his eyes darkened before finally also taking your panties off and grabbing you by your ass pulling you to the edge of the bed.

"Oh, honey, you're so wet" Mat rumbled, his fingers exploring your drenched folds, spreading you open for him while you trembled. "And who are you dripping for?"

"You." The word only a whisper.

"No one else on your mind?"

"No," you moaned bucking your hips into his touch. "Just you."

"That's right." He finally circled your clit, dragging a strangled moan from your mouth, before spanking the little bundle of nerves, making you jerk and cry out. "So sensitive and responsive," he murmured. "I've dreamed about your pussy—and it's even better than I imagined," he confessed distractedly before ducking down, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking until you were squirming beneath him so badly, he had to pin you down to the bed.

Pleasure washed through you in waves so overwhelming, your hands grabbed Mat's soft hair to keep yourself steady. Your whole body quaked, your hips bucking up against his face while he sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue teasing the tip of it until you felt like you were going to shatter apart. But he wouldn't let you come so fast and continued teasing you. Mat licked at your pussy, his tongue digging into the depths of your hole as far as he could go, before using the tip of his tongue to tease your clit.

"Oh, god! Mathew," you moans grew louder at the sounds of him eating you out, something you ex never liked to do (not that you were thinking about him at all), and the thoughts of how hopefully he'd be fucking you numb in just a few minutes. If he was that good at foreplay, how good was he at the actual fucking part?

Just when you thought he couldn't get any better, he ripped his head out of your grasp and lightly slapped your clit, making you cry out. "So sweet," he mumbled, admiring your pussy again after having a taste. His fingers explored the sensitive tissue again before sinking one and then another finger into you. You moaned and squirmed, grabbing the sheets for some support.

"That's it. I can feel you squeezing me, you're close, eh?" You could only hum in response, still squirming beneath his touch. "Then come for me, honey."

Mat's fingers worked in and out of your hole slowly, dragging against your sensitive walls like he was reveling in how tight you were. His tongue brushed against your clit, making you moan and whine, the pleasure he offered so exquisite, you felt certain you were going to come soon. When his fingers pressed against that spot inside you, you abruptly screamed as you finally came. Your hands clutched the sheets then captured his hair again as you bucked your hips up violently against his face, his mouth never relenting even as your entire world shattered around you. His kept fucking you with his fingers, his mouth sucking on your puffy clit as pleasure coursed through you in wave after overwhelming wave. Your legs shook on either side of his head, the rest of your body trembling while Mat worked you through your orgasm.

Then, when the pleasure began to subside, Mat didn't relent. His fingers were still plunging in and out of your pussy while he licked furiously at your sensitive clit. You squirmed, whining at the overstimulation, but he only raised his head for a moment to stare up your body at you.

"One more," he rasped, pressing a kiss to your clit. "Gimme another one, honey," he said, greedy hunger in his voice. Then he spoke no more because his mouth was busy eating you out like a starved man. When he added a third finger to your cunt, fucking you harder with his fingers curled inside you, pressing against that spot, you felt the tension coiling inside you again. Mat was relentless, his tongue lashing against your clit, and it wasn't long before you came again.

If you'd thought your body had trembled and shook through your first release, it was nothing compared to the quaking shudders of your second orgasm. You screamed your throat raw at the overwhelming pleasure consuming your body and mind, and all you could do was hold onto his head and ride it out with him.

When you finally started to come down, you saw him licking your arousal from his fingers, his green eyes heated when he caught you staring at him. He smirked at your slumped, limp body and began to rise. He climbed on top of the mattress, pulling up with him, so your entire body now lay next to him.

"Gimme a minute," you huffed, still catching your breath, to which he chuckled.

"Take your time." With one hand under his head, he grinned at the ceiling. What he was saying earlier was the truth. He did like you and cared for you. He pinned for you and lusted after you. He just couldn't express that in the workplace and that somehow turned into passive aggressiveness. But he would apologize for that later. For now, he was just happy that after months of fantasizing you were actually lying in bed next to him.

"Thank you," you finally said waving your hand around. "For that."

Another laugh, one that made your heart skip a beat, left his mouth. "You sound like it was your first time being eaten out. And you're welcome."

When you didn't answer, only cringed, he sat himself up on his elbow looking down at you. You were strangely comfortable with being naked around him. With past boyfriends or hookups, you always quickly found something to cover up with. "How long were you with this jerk?"

"A few years."

"And he never once went down on you?" His perplexed face suddenly made you feel ashamed. Not about yourself but that you kept up with your ex for so long.

"Not never. He just didn't like doing it. And I haven't enjoyed it with others either so it wasn't a big deal," you admitted, though after what you just went through, you might have some reevaluating to do.

"Jesus Christ, (y/n)! You wasted your time with him. He should have been at your feet, worshipping you, thanking whatever god he believes in that you even looked at him let alone touch him. You especially deserve so much better." Your heart clenched and that fuzzy warm feeling in your belly returned. Since you had no idea how to respond, you kissed him. First softly, almost hesitant, but that feeling only grew stronger and within a few minutes you had pushed him back into the mattress and climbed on top of him.

You moaned into Mat's mouth, kissing him harder, your drenched center settling over the bulge in his pants. Your breath hitched in your throat and Mat took the opportunity to nip at your lower lip, making you moan again before you began rocking against his hardness. Renewed arousal flooded through your body, your skin heating while you kissed him until it became too much and you had to wrench your lips away from the handsome hockey player so you could gasp for air.

"Mathew," you cried softly, his name falling from your mouth in a whispered plea while your hips kept grinding down on his cock. He felt so big and thick beneath you and you didn't know what you wanted more, to keep grinding down against him or feel him fill you up.

Mat pressed his smile against your jaw, teasing your skin with kisses and little nips of his teeth, making you gasp and moan and clench down around nothing while you worked your pussy against his bulge.

"My mouth not enough for you, honey?" he rumbled teasingly in your ear, his hands sliding down your sides. He grabbed your ass with his big hands, kneading your soft flesh while helping you rock against him, dragging more moans from you. "Do you need my cock?"

"Yes, yes, please," you begged in a whining voice. Your pulse was thrumming beneath your skin and throbbing in your clit. Your hands pressed into the mattress next to his head and you used your grip as leverage to grind down harder on his bulge, pressing your clit against the fabric of his boxers until you were a whimpering mess. "Need it, please!"

"What do you need?," he whispered roughly.

"Your cock."

"Say my name. Who's making you feel like this?" His voice was rough in your ear sending more shivers down your body and directly to your clit.

"Mathew. You, Mat. Please, I need you."

His hands on your ass moved quickly to lift you to your knees just high enough so he could wiggle out of his underwear.

"Condom?," you whispered quickly before anything further progressed. His head dropped back in agony before he cursed. "Fuck."

Your head dropped to his chest, spinning as you considered the sides of the argument. "Sorry, I didn't actually plan on anything happening anytime soon."

"It's okay," you whispered, then kissed your way up his neck to his lips. "It's ok, we don't need one. I'm clean and on the pill."

"Me too. You sure?," he asked breathlessly in between more intoxicating kisses. "We don't need to do anything tonight."

"No, please, Mathew," you begged, lowering your hips onto his cock, sliding up and down his length. "I need you, please."

"Fuck! I would never say no to you, honey." Mat's gaze darkened before your eyes, a sound rumbling deep in his chest almost like a possessive growl. Then he was diving forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss while his hands went back to your ass. He used his arm around your back to lower you down until the tip of his cock brushed against your dripping folds. "I'm gonna fuck your sweet pussy bare," he promised, bullying your clit with his tip until you were moaning and squirming on top of him. "I'm gonna fill you up with my come until it's dripping down your thighs."

Words escaped you, so you nodded your head, which felt light and fuzzy with how aroused you were. Your hands braced on Mat's shoulders and you stared deep into his eyes as he guided you to start sinking down on his cock. You gasped when you felt the head of his cock press inside your tight hole. You moaned when he was buried all the way inside of you, loving the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open, stretching out your little pussy. It was nearly overwhelming, just how much you had to stretch to accommodate him, but you enjoyed it too much to stop or protest. "So big," was all you could mumble, your lashes fluttering as you tried to keep holding his gaze through the feeling of his hardness stretching your inner walls.

Mat rumbled a pleased sound in his chest. "Ya like it, honey?" he asked, his lips curling in a devilish smirk that made you want to kiss his mouth hard. "Like feeling my big, fat cock splitting open your tight cunt?"

"Oh god, oh god," you mumbled, moaning while you slid down more of his length before lifting up and pressing down even further. "Feels so good—s'good, Mat," you muttered, still holding his gaze even as your eyes threatened to close from the overwhelming pleasure.

The moment felt too intimate to cut off the connection of your held gaze, so you stared into Mat's eyes as you worked yourself up and down his shaft, taking him impossibly deeper.

"F-fuck, oh fuck," Mat groaned, finally breaking eye contact to bury his face against your chest, like he was overwhelmed by the feeling of being buried inside you. His breath was hot against your breasts as he sucked in deep gulps of air, breathing in your scent while his hands gripped your hips so hard, you thought he might leave fingertip-shaped bruises on your hips—not that you minded. You shivered and clenched around his stiff cock, which only made him grunt in pleasure. "Feel so fucking good, honey," he rumbled, his voice muffled where it was pressed to your sternum. "So warm and tight and fucking perfect around my cock."

"Mhmm," you murmured, rocking your hips in small movements, feeling his cock drag against your sensitive inner walls. You were pressed so close together, you felt a shudder pass through Mat's body and continue through yours. It wasn't long before you were both writhing together, reveling in the feel of each other. "Feel so full—so full of your big cock, Mat," you said in a breathy whisper. You raked your nails through his hair, as he held you to your chest as your hips moved against his tiny thrusts.

"That's right, full of me," he mumbled possessively, nipping at your neck, moving back down to your breasts. He kissed your soft mounds while you rocked on top of him, his hands bringing you down harder and harder on his cock. Steve sucked on your nipple, lapping at the tight peak before giving the same attention to the other. "You feel better than I ever dreamed, honey," he rasped, looking up and catching your eye, depthless emotion filling his green eyes.

Shy heat filled your face and you smiled, warm pleasure curling through your limbs and pulsing insistently between your thighs. Your inner walls clenched down around Mat's cock, like your body was possessive of the feeling of him inside you and never wanted to let him go.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against your ear, pressing small wet kissed along your jaw. "Sorry I've been a bit of a jerk."

"So you admit it?" Your response sped up his thrusts to which you let out a surprised squeak which turned into a string of moans.

"Why don't you accept my apology for now and let me fuck you mindless like you deserve and we can talk about the rest later." His voice turned rough and possessive again, one you already loved as you pussy clamped down on his cock, so you nodded.

In a quick maneuver, Mat had turned the two of you around, lifting one of your legs. "Good girl."

He didn't give you a chance to react before he mercilessly started pounding into your sweet flesh. It was better than you ever could've imagined, the feeling of his hot, hard cock sinking into your tight cunt. His hips were smacking your thighs, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust as he fucked you. You reveled in the feel of him, your arms and legs wrapped around him and dragging him deeper into the cradle of your body.

Mat's face hovered above you and you could see the way it was contorted with pleasure. The way he was fucking you—so possessively, you knew he was serious when he'd told you he had liked you all along. "Fuck," he choked out the whispered curse, pressing his forehead to yours. "Your pussy feels so fucking good gripping my cock."

You tilted your head up for a kiss, pressing your lips to his as you pulled him closer with your legs, rocking up against him. "More, please—need you, need more," you begged against his mouth, your breaths mingling until you didn't know where you ended and he began.

Giving you what you asked for, Mat pulled his hips back, dragging his cock along every sensitive inch of your cunt, before slamming back inside. His breathing was harsh in your ear as he let out stuttering moans, almost drowning out the sounds of his hips smacking against yours, his balls hitting your ass. "So good, so good, honey, so fucking good," he chanted against your check, his breath hot on your face.

Your face pressed into his neck, lips sucking on his skin until you knew you were going to leave marks, too far gone to care as your tongue darted out to taste him and soothe him. Your legs locked around his waist, your feet hooking behind his thighs so you could draw him deeper until he was fully seated in your cunt and he couldn't pull out more than an inch.

"Oh god, that's it. I'm so close," you mumbled as his thrust slowed but doubled in strength. Words escaped you, your lips forgetting how to do anything but kiss and moan and whimper and whine for Mat. Your head felt hazy, however not from the alcohol from earlier, but on Mat's cock and the dirty words pouring from his mouth.

"Yes, need you to come for me, honey. Need to feel you come on my cock," he muttered, picking up the pace of his slow grinding until he was rutting into you as much as your legs would let him. "Fuck, I can't stop, baby, 'm gonna come." He grunted and groaned, the sounds of his pleasure and his words filling the truck cab. "Come on my cock, baby," Mat rasped as he pounded his cock deep in your hole, grinding his pubic bone against your clit with every thrust, sending you careening toward the edge.

The desperation in Mat's voice and the way his cock pummeled a spot deep in your pussy that had your back arching into him, grinding your clit on him, pushed you over the edge. Your nails dug into his back, desperate to be anchored to him as it felt like you were free-falling through pleasure. Pressing your face into his neck, you muffled a scream, sobbing your release as your cunt rhythmically clamped down hard on his cock.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, that's it baby, that's a good girl," Mat praised, rutting into you harder, fucking you through your orgasm as he chased his own.

His fingers dug into your soft flesh so hard you were sure he'd leave bruises and that thought only sent more warmth curling through you, joining the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Please," you begged, your mouth finally remembering how to form words. "Come in me," you whined, squirming beneath him.

"Fuck—yes," he grunted, thrusting hard and pinning you down onto the mattress with his hips. "Take it, honey, take my come," he bit out through gritted teeth as you felt him start to come deep in your pussy. You moaned when you felt his cock twitch inside you, his come filling your warm hole. He panted, as he thrust a few more times, shallowly, until he was spent. Mat collapsed on top of you while you reveled in the feel of his come coating inside you. "So good for me, baby," he praised, turning his head enough to kiss your cheek.

Your arms and legs felt heavy and loose as your full body relaxed, drifting in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm, feeling sated and happy. Running your fingers through Mat's hair, you hummed in happiness. Unable to stop yourself, you planted little kisses on his neck. He made a contented sound in his chest in response, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand.

He still stayed buried deep inside you, brushing his lips over your face, your neck and collarbones. You enjoyed it, almost more than what you just did, breathing him in, staying in your fantasy just a little bit longer.

You suddenly snapped back to reality, realizing that while he had just been very sweat and caring, he did behave like a jerk these last few months. You pushed him off of you, pretending you didn't feel the extreme emptiness when his cock slipped out of you. "Get off me."

Mat laughed, sitting up on his elbows as he watched you scramble to find a shirt to cover up with. "Oh, come on, honey. Can't we enjoy this moment?"

"One phenomenal orgasm does just erase these last few months and prove that you actually never hated me," you explained in a snippy tone, blushing when you realized you admitted how good he'd made you feel.

"I'm pretty sure I made you come three times." You rolled your eyes, throwing his sweater at him before finally reaching your sweater and pulling it over your head. "Should I prove it to you again?"

Let's just say that that night and many other nights he continued to prove to you over and over again that he did in fact like you. Maybe even more than like.

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal smut #nhl smut #hockey smut #smut #nhl fics #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey fics #new york islanders

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pedropascalluv · 1 year ago

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when you know, you know.- Finnick Odair

You and Finnick have always had a bond. It was undeniable. Many were jealous of the love you two shared as best friends, even if they always thought you two had something more going on you both denied it every time. Now that The Hunger Games are officially over, you and Finnick decided to stay around District 4 (Other than going to visit Peeta and Katniss) this was where you two grew up together, it was your home.

The front door closes and you know exactly who it is as the footsteps get closer to my room and there he is giving you the big smile you love so much “You reading?” he lays next to you the smell of the sea becomes stronger “yup, did you catch anything?” you breathe in the salty aroma “Yes ma'am I did, how about we cook and then you can catch me up on your book?” you drop the book now staring at him “That's just about all we do”

“We live a simple life”

“That we do” he gets up

“I’m gonna go take a quick shower”

“I’ll start preparing the food”

you decide to play music while you get started and because you did that you didn't hear Finnick coming up behind you, his hands moving to your waist "Can you not scare me when I have a knife in my hand, I will stab you." he laughs “you would never do such a thing” he grabs the knife in your hand placing it on the counter and bringing you close to his chest “Finn you know I’m a shit dancer don’t even try it” of course this doesn’t stop him, his hand resting on your lower back “come on just feel the song” you tried, you really did but feeling one hand moving the hair out of your face and the other was trailing up and down your back it was quite distracting

“I love you” you smile squeezing his hand “I love you too” his face is serious more serious than you've ever seen on him “No I love you in a way a best friend shouldn’t, you are my whole life and I’m sorry if this is a lot all the sudden but this war is finally over and I should’ve told you years ago but I- I didn’t want to lose you. I can’t keep acting like I’m not completely in love with you” You pause your head spinning as the grip on his hand has gotten even stronger.

“You're in love with me?”

“Yes” there was nothing but silence in the kitchen "I don’t know what I was-” he stops talking and starts to walk away but you grab his hand.

“You remember when we kissed right before I went into the games the second time?” he asks you nod the smile on your face not faltering “was that real, did you mean that or was it just a in the moment type thing? because I understand if it was” he was looking at the ground you cup his jaw his eyes meeting yours “It was real. I couldn’t even form a sentence sitting in that room with you. I didn't know how I was going to say goodbye to my best friend, the guy I've been in love with since I was a little kid. I knew you would go back into the games, and you might not be coming back. I couldn't lose you” his eyes glossy with tears threatening to escape “God I love you so much Finnick” Within a millisecond your lips were on his, the distant memory of when you first kissed him back when they announced that Finnick would go back in for the 3rd quarter quell the familiar feeling made you smile against his lips he pulled you away briefly his smile beaming back at you, he leans in your foreheads now touching

“I love you more.”

“You are so competitive.”

“I am. And I always win” you roll your eyes at him

“I take it back I don’t love you and your cocky ass.”

“No taking it back your stuck with me darling” he shrugs kissing your forehead "I love you more end of discussion" you say running to your room Finnick not far behind you go on the other side of your room he grabs you and throws you on the bed hitting you with a pillow you laugh covering your blushing face "I love you more" before you can say anything else he kisses you with more passion and hunger.

I guess when you know, you know.

-I might make more with Finnick but I will be posting something about Sejanus from tbosas so get ready-

#finnick odair #the hunger games #thg #finnick x reader #thg finnick #catching fire #mockingjay #finnick imagine #finnick x oc

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gingerjolover · 9 months ago

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The Love Nest - Julien Baker x young!gf

read the blurb here!

synopsis: young!soft!gf has a bad day but julien is always there to make it better

g's notes: oh heyyyy.... this is a small installment in the controversially young!gf universe, she is lowkey soft!gf coded - i am really going to try and push out more fics now that things are falling into place for me and my life doesn't feel so out of control :-)

warnings: RPF, age gap (both consenting adults!), young!gf is 20?? in this fic, bad day vibes:/, talks of internet bullying, smoochin/lovin/the works, no fundamental physical descriptors except hair that can be tucked behind ear??

The frantic succession of pings had woken Julien up from her post-studio haze, her body half laying on the couch when the panicked texts came in. She didn't even hesitate to get up, changing out of her recording clothes into a pair of boxers and a big t-shirt, moving around the house like a zombie, the routine is one she could do with her eyes closed.

20 minutes later, she sits on the porch, messy hair and slippers on, half exposed to the neighbors by the gaps in her landscaping. She's only lived in the house a few months, having narrowed down what she wanted right around the time you both fell in love almost 8 months ago. It's a small Spanish-style home, close enough to her friends but far enough away from the city that she doesn't feel suffocated. Phoebe relentlessly teased her about the renovations she made, "Oh, so your girlfriend gets to choose the color of your backsplash... it's a love nest!" she had squealed, poking Julien's side as Lucy and Jo admired the palette you had chosen for her kitchen.

She'd hated the teasing, the constant (but loving) making fun of how she worships the ground you walk in, bending to every whim needed to make you happy. Her friends could see it was reciprocated, having finally gotten to know you enough to feel comfortable teasing you about your relationship, your skin thickening with every lousy comment, but smiling at everything from Julien's friend's mouth, laced with admiration for you.

It scares Julien, despite being on the same page about your love, often having deep talks before bed about how the love between you feels like the only thing to ever exist; it scares her just how much she loves you. There's something natural about you flittering around her house, an old ratty band tee adorning your figure as Julien playfully mocks you about not knowing the song blasting throughout the house despite it singlehandedly getting her through her sophomore year of college.

But the best thing, the most natural thing of all, is seeing you pull up into the driveway. Julien envisions when you're done with school, following your dreams full time, and coming home to her every night. Normally, she'd stand on the porch, smiling wide and staring dreamily at you as you park your car. The dog at her feet would wag his tail, ready to pounce when your Converse hits the first step.

But the dreamy eyes are replaced with concern today. She can see your blotchy cheeks through the windshield, eyes bloodshot and streaming. "Oh shit," she mumbles under her breath; every nerve ending is on fire, worry flowing through her veins as she makes her way down the steps to you.

You've barely parked the car before flinging the door open, jumping out, and rushing into her arms. She catches you with ease, one hand moving to support your bottom as you wrap your legs around her, the other tight on your back.

"Hi baby," Julien murmurs, lips pressed to your cheek, your skin warm and damp. Your tears leak down Julien's neck, her hand rubbing up and down your back over your t-shirt, hot and sticky from the sweat, no doubt a result of your anxiety.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, rubbing your nose against her skin as she walks you back to the steps.

"You never need to say sorry for coming here, you know that." She gave you a comforting squeeze before walking you to the porch, the soft glow from inside the house and a few small lights outside were enough to illuminate the whole yard, a warm glow in the incoming darkness.

"Careful buddy, be gentle, mama's sad," Julien says gently, sitting you both down as her dog excitedly moves to you, as if knowing you need comfort, licking your cheek, pawing at your back.

A small giggle and a succession of pets give Julien some hope, her eyes watching your face. Cheeks flushed and puffy, eyes brightened by tears, lips bitten and red, you look so innocent and clearly hurt, but despite it all, approach everything with kindness and gentleness.

“I just needed to see you and I know you have an early session in the morning and I’m not supposed to be here until Thursday but I—“ you start to ramble, knowing that you and Julien both have strict schedules.

"Baby... breathe. It's okay, okay? You're here and safe," Julien says softly, seeing your eyes descend into panic once again when trying to be considerate of her schedule. Julien presses kisses into the crown of your hair, mumbling against the skin, "Besides, I missed you, except I hate seeing you sad, so talk to me; what's happening?" Julien says, pulling away, thumb coming to wipe away tears under your eyes.

“Everything that could’ve gone wrong today went wrong, and I’m so tired,” you breathe out, almost like you couldn't get oxygen back into your lungs. The sobs start up quickly again, heading towards dangerous territory quickly.

Julien's worried frown deepens slightly, but she squeezes you reassuringly. This wasn't good. Not at all. You were usually a ray of sunshine, but the way you breathed out, having such a pessimistic view, sounded... it sounded terrible. She rubbed her thumb against your back in a gentle rhythm. "Slow down. What happened?"

You let out some shuddering breaths, sobs broken up between sniffles before you explain, “I slept through my alarm which I never do, so I missed my meeting with my manager, and then on my way to class my smoothie spilled all over my bag and laptop, and thankfully I backed it up b-but I need a new one, a-and I haven’t gotten the checks from my shop yet so I’m stressing about rent and then all of my paints dried out so I couldn't even work, and my lunch ended up being spoiled so I haven't eaten and I walked to my car after class and there was a fucking p-parking ticket and then when I got home and tried to shower a-and the water was ice cold, and then I stupidly went on instagram and I just—“ you sob gently, all your words like mush, coming in out in only a few breaths.

The more details you explained, the more worried Julien's expression grew. This was a bad day. Worse than most. Her brow furrowed as she took it all in, a frown settling. She kept stroking your back gently as she pulled you in closer, legs interlocking as you sat on the steps. "Okay. Okay. One thing at a time. You don't have to worry about rent. I've got you. Let's just breathe for a sec and figure all of it out…"

“And I failed that stupid philosophy test! He’s making me retake it because my answers were “plagiarized,” according to Turnitin,” you cry out, the elective you were so excited to take because your girlfriend's enthusiasm is a main stress point this semester.

"Hey, hey, let's not worry about that right now. We can deal with your philosophy professor later. Right now, you just need to take some slow breaths, okay?" Julien's voice was soothing; she gently rocked you as she spoke. "Now… the laptop. You said you backed everything up?"

"Yeah, I- but I have so much homework due on Thursday and I— I won't have time to get a new one or even have time to go to the library,” you whine gently, leaning into Julien's affections.

"Hey, look at me." Julien holds your chin gently but sternly; she looks more serious now as she speaks. "You don't need to worry about all of that tonight. You're not going to the library. You'll have some dinner, then we'll crawl into bed and watch a movie, and you can just rest, okay? We'll figure all of that stuff out tomorrow."

“I— I don’t have the time, and I—" you try to explain, tears coming down faster.

The gentle tone in Julien's voice disappears as she shakes her head. "Princess, listen to me." She looks at you firmly and takes your hands into hers, her thumb rubbing your ring finger softly. "You can skip the library. You can tell your manager everything's all right. You can fail one test. You can sleep. We will figure out the laptop situation tomorrow, and everything will be okay. You're safe here, okay? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you right now. You're just gonna relax. I'll take care of everything else."

"But the parking ticket-" you sob softly, cheeks heating in embarrassment.

"I'll deal with that tomorrow." Her tone was more definitive, her eyes locked into yours. "You can just focus on getting some rest right now. Okay? I promise it's gonna be okay."

Julien searches your eyes, watching you nod. Her heart cracks when she sees the tears streaming down, a more profound pain behind your eyes. Her face fell instantly, her hands touching your cheeks as she pressed her forehead to yours. She breathes with you, trying to figure out how to approach what's clearly not a bad day but a breaking point. She gently strokes your hair, "You wanna tell me what's really bothering you, sweet girl?" Julien speaks softly.

“Why are you with me? You’re like— older and successful and isn’t this just— all so stupid, I mean I’m in college and I—“ you whispers, your words riddled with shame as you stare into her brown eyes, feeling small.

Julien's stomach drops; that definitely wasn't a response she was expecting. All of their friends joke about it, but you've never asked the question directly like this. Her mind reeled of every interaction she had witnessed that your relationship was the topic of conversation, wondering which comment was the nail in the coffin, one she didn't even know you had been preparing. She hesitates for a long moment, her brows furrowed. Her expression grows tender again as she pulls you into a hug and squeezes you softly. "Because I love you. And I'm proud of you. And I'm here to support you with everything."

“You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this; it’s all— childish, you’re like—taking care of me,” you say sadly, sniffling again. Julien notices specific language, the rhetoric not like your own, it sounds like a direct comment and not a narrative you've created for yourself.

Julien's eyes widened as she listened; she definitely heard those exact comments on social media, blocking most of it out for the sake of your relationship. "You're not childish. I'm not taking care of you. We're a partnership. We're taking care of each other. You take care of me too. Everything's gonna be ok," she says sternly but gently, tucking some hair behind your ear. "Can I ask you something?" she says softly.

"Mhm," Julien smiles softly at your hum, thumb rubbing your cheek gently. "Did something else happen today? Did someone say something about our relationship? Or have you been reading comments again?" Julien's eyebrows knit together in worry as she looks into your eyes. The trolls were nasty enough as it is. The thought that you might have been rereading their bullshit was heartbreaking.

You look into her eyes guiltily, bottom lip between your teeth as you open your mouth, but nothing can come out, just a sheepish blush crossing your cheeks.

"Sweetheart..." Julien groans, her voice more concerned now. She takes your hands and holds them more tightly in her own. "That's a terrible idea; we've talked about this, okay? You know not to read those comments. They don't know anything about you or us. They're just assholes with a keyboard."

"I couldn't help it, I-" you whine softly, dropping your head low to hide from any disappointing looks Julien might shoot your way.

"Look at me, come on." Juliens pulls your chin up, tilting it so her eyes meet yours. Her expression is soft as she strokes your cheek. "These trolls are just miserable people who have nothing better to do than make other people miserable. We've discussed this: you can't let their opinions take over your life. You can't let them affect you like this."

“I just— had such a bad day and I felt like I couldn’t get my emotions under control and— I just was on there for fun I swear, but then I saw the post from Saturday that Katie posted of us and some of the comments were just so mean, and I started to wonder why you would wanna deal with me? Deal with all of this stuff when you graduated like 6 years ago and I don’t have my shit together, I’m not even 21 so—“ you start to ramble, getting worked up again as the panic floods your chest.

"Hey. Look at me." Julien's voice is gentle as she strokes your hair, holding you close. "I'm not dealing with anything. It's called being in a relationship. There's nothing to deal with. What other people think doesn't matter, remember? Not a damn thing. All that matters to me is that you're here. With me. That's it."

Julien cant help but look down, your lips in cute small pout. She smiles lightly as she wipes your cheeks, kissing your lips quickly.

"Promise me you won't read through that garbage anymore, okay? You know it isn't good for you. It's not good for us. We're good. Just us. Don't let them get in your head. And you never have to justify why you're with me. That's not how this works."

You nod gently, chest lighter at Julien's reassurances. The heavy weight of people's comments still weighs on you, knowing this is something to discuss later, but for now, having Julien dote on you is enough.

Julien's lips curl into a soft smile as she brings her forehead up to yours, eyes still locked into one another's. She whispers softly, "That's my girl. You're gonna rest and I'll deal with the parking ticket and everything else. Okay?"

You nod softly, thanking everything in the universe for the woman sitting before you. You lean in, kissing Julien's cheeks a few times, the corner of her mouth, and then her lips.

Julien hums when you kiss her, your soft lips against her chapped ones. Julien's smile grows wider, her eyes gleaming softly in the dim glow of the porch light, the sun almost set. She closes her eyes and lets out a happy sigh as she pulls your body closer, wrapping her arms tightly around you.

"Are you happy?" you mumble out, tone laced with insecurity, silently face-palming yourself for how you sounded.

Julien's expression grows soft as her hands rub up and down your back, those words tugging at her heartstrings just a bit. She swallows before her voice comes out gentle and sincere, "I am the happiest I've been in a very long time, baby."

Julien's arms wrap tighter around you, and she pulls you into her lap, her lips meeting yours gently and tenderly. Her hands hold your head, mouths softly brushing together, the warmth of your breaths mingling against and into one another's.

She can't help but giggle when you pull away, cheeks flushed and your face moving to her neck. "Can we shower?" you mumble against her skin, Julien's hand rubbing your leg softly.

The blush spreads further up Julien's cheek as she leans in to kiss the top of your head. "Of course we can, pretty girl. I want to get you all cozy," Julien says softly, placing you back on the step as she pats the dog's head, quickly stepping down and towards the car.

She moves to grab your overnight bag, favorite pillow, and purse. Carrying the items in one hand, she locks the car and walks back towards the house, sticking out her opposite hand.

"Thank you," you murmur, kissing her cheek as you grab her hand. "S'no biggie, baby," Julien smiles softly, pushing you through the door first, locking up behind her, and following you straight up the stairs.

You make their way upstairs to the bathroom. The bathroom is dark, except for the light from the bedside lamp nearby that casts an orange-yellow glow. Julien runs the shower, watching you slip into the tub with a small smile. The shower is quick, like any other, Julien tending to you gently. She washes your hair and massages your scalp as you rest against her, a low song coming from her lips.

Wrapped in a fluffy towel, Julien grabs a pair of pajamas from your drawer in her room. Her hands move gently as she works lotion into your back, attempting to relieve the tight muscles in your overworked body. She kisses your neck and shoulders as she moves, her eyes locking into yours in the mirror, her expression so loving and caring, just wanting you to feel better.

“Thank you,” Julien's eyes shine brightly when she sees your soft, tired expression, your sweet thank you music to her ears. She pulls you closer to her chest, rubbing her thumb against your cheek gently and kisses your forehead. "You're welcome. You wanna order food?” Julien mumbles against your skin.

“Mhm, only had half a smoothie today."

Julien's eyes glow softly with admiration as she watches you lean into her. She kisses your forehead again and hums soothingly. “That’s not good,” she breathes, running her fingers through your wet hair. "Poor baby. You wanna lie down in bed while I order? I promise I'll be quick?"

“Yeah,” you say, eyes closing as you allow yourself to enjoy Julien's tender touch.

Julien's smile grows a little more, rubbing your back reassuringly. She pulls out her phone and pulls up the delivery app, watching you cross into the bedroom. She also moves into the bedroom, turning on the bedside lamp and pulling the curtains across the window, dimming everything to a soft, cozy glow. The room is warm and tranquil, any space in Julien's house can achieve this with just a few alterations.

As you snuggle into bed, reaching for the remote, Julien crosses in front of the TV to plug in your heating pad, setting it across your lap.

Juliens watches your face, taking in your exhausted expression, puffy eyes, and the way you're sunken deep into the blankets. Her soft, loving look changes into a teasing one, she can't help but to gently nuzzle her face into your hair as she leans down to you. "I know it was a hard day, baby, but try not to fall asleep before the food gets here," she whispers softly and playfully.

You squint back teasingly, “What’re you ordering?”

"Probably from that Thai place? That okay? That coconut curry could do you some good... it should warm you up and ease those muscles too."

“Is that the one that Phoebe got for me last time?”

"Yeah... think so," Julien's tone reflects the fond memories of Phoebe and Lucy trying to impress you and how cute and sweet it all was to them. "She said she did a little research for the best spot in town. It was so nice of her to do that, wasn't it? The food was really good too."

“Yeah, it was good. I haven't had it since that time with them, like 6 months ago," you say, looking up at Julien as she stands next to the bed, one knee resting on the mattress.

"That’s when I thought Phoebe and Lucy hated me,” you snort softly.

"Oh, definitely not. Lucy and Phoebe are probably both a little in love with you if you want the truth." Julien's tone is teasing; she knows how much her bandmates and best friends appreciate you, even if you don't see it yourself. Her tone grows kinder and softer as she continues. "Phoebe just wanted to feel out the vibe and get to know you better,” Julien says.

Julien's expression softens as she rubs her thumb against your mouth, arm sticking out in front of her, "Yeah, they were probably a little skeptical of you when they first met you. I don’t think they were sure what to make of you."

“Was because of my age, right?” you ask softly, eyes shining with insecurity when the 7-year age gap reappears.

Julien's expression grows warm and apologetic, feeling a lot of guilt over your anxiety about the age difference. She sits on the edge of the bed, tattooed hands running up and down your leg reassuringly. "That may have played a bit of a role, but honestly? I think there was a bit of jealousy there, too. You’re smart, pretty, and funny, and I was pretty smitten instantly. I think they might have felt a little threatened by you," Julien says with a twinkle in her eye, her smile moving to the side with jest.

“Shut up, Jay,” you groan, covering your face with your hands as you lean back into the pillow.

Juliens chuckles slightly at your reaction. "What, it may have been true. I mean, have you seen you?" Julien says playfully, pinching your cheek playfully.

“Flattery will get you nowhere."

Julien's playful expression grows a bit more mischievous. "Oh, it'll get me somewhere, alright. I have a certain spot in mind for that flattery." Juliens nuzzles her into your neck, leaning over you, her body half off the bed, as her lips land near your ear. "You know which one I mean."

“Jules!” you laugh loudly, pushing her off.

Julien's grin grows even wider as she's pushed off of you, leaning back toward you, kissing your lips playfully. "Sorry, angel, I can't help myself. I see a pretty girl, and my hands get a little excited."

You cock one eyebrow up at Juliens use of “a pretty girl”. Julien's eyes narrow playfully at your reaction knowing she's been called out for her choice of words here.

"Okay, okay, fine. I see my really, really, incredibly stunningly gorgeous girlfriend, and I just can't help myself. Better?" Julien chuckles.

“Better."

Julien moves to finish ordering the food, patting your leg quickly before going downstairs to get her laptop to try and get some of the things that went wrong in your day sorted. She lays on the bed, resting against the headboard, your back slightly towards her as you focus on the TV. One of her hands moves back into a gentle massage on your back, trying to relax you, your muscles still somewhat tense.

Julien works on setting up an appointment at the Apple store to get you a new laptop, highlighting and noting which options would be best for your current needs. She also makes sure to transfer enough money for your portion of your rent, knowing you will pay her back as soon as you get paid. And you didn't ask, she knows you would do it eventually, but she goes ahead and orders some replacement paint (and a few other things on your wishlist), knowing you need to get prints done.

Julien's fingers move up to your scalp, trying to commit to memory to ask you tomorrow about the parking ticket information so she can pay it as soon as possible. Her fingers move rhythmically, each stroke a gentle massage of your head. She hums softly as she continues, her eyes moving back and forth between the TV and her phone, watching the delivery time on the door dash.

Her fingers slow down and stop in place for a moment, taking a deep breath and realizing despite the hardships, she's never been more fulfilled and content. She can’t help but smile with tender affection as her mind is filled with thoughts of the girl in her bed, this sweet, smart girl who's taken up an unexpected home in her heart.

“Can I take a power nap?” you mumble, already half asleep, Julien's tattooed fingers to blame.

"You want to take a little power nap until the food gets here?" She asks with a smirk, lifting her arm and widening it, a signal beckoning you to her side.

“Mhm,” you nod, moving on your side and snuggling into Julien.

Julien's face is loving as she watches you settle into her side. She pulls a bit of the blanket over both of you, "Go on, baby, take your nap. I'll watch out for the food."

g's notes: does this suck? i feel like its somehow so long and yet nothing is happening lol

g's notes again: yes its 1 am, i- i don't have an excuse actually

#julien baker x reader #boygenius x reader #julien baker fluff #julien baker x fem!reader #controversially young!gf universe #julien baker x young!gf #julien baker x soft!gf

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abiiors · 9 months ago

Text

one for the road // george daniel x reader

a/n: the idea belongs to my sweet friend ace @ughgoaway and i'm just bringing it to life but JFC GEORGE'S HANDS HAVE BEEN THE ONLY THING ON MY MIND SINCE BOILER ROOM (side note but it took me sooooo long to think of a title until one for the road by am came up on shuffle) cw: semi-public, fingering, edging, slightly dom/sub?? like it's kinda hinted but that's it, the writer’s hand kink is very obvious in this one wc: 2.6k

l.a. traffic is the bane of your existence. everything crawls at a glacial pace, there are a million and one red lights and every once in a while someone tries to honk or zoom past as if that would magically clear the road for them. you try to play some music and even that keeps getting interrupted by the two calls george has gotten so far.

you’re frustrated beyond belief and so is he, judging by his tight grip on the steering wheel and his clenched jaw.

“george!” you whine. it’s childish and immature, and yet you can’t help it. it’s not even ten a.m. and everything is already hellish.

“i know, baby,” he speaks in a low voice, navigating yet more traffic. by some miracle, the car in front of you speeds, opening up space for you to cross the green light. george perks up, about to floor it when someone cuts in from behind, and gets stuck right in front of you. just in time for the light to turn red.

george slaps the steering wheel, letting out a few choice curse words, you groan into your hands, about to curse some more when his hand lands on your thigh.

it’s innocent enough—something he’s done countless times. it’s almost a permanent resting spot for his hands when you’re driving anyway, but the rough pads of his fingers scratch against your thigh. his rings glint in the sunlight, and you stare at his hands, completely forgetting about the frustration from just a minute ago.

the red light lasts far longer than it should, longer than it has any right to. but in the end you move again, and george’s hand goes back to the steering wheel. instantly, you miss the warmth of it, the friction of his fingers against the smooth skin of your thigh. you fidget with the hem of your short, short skirt, wishing your fingers felt the same. they don’t, not even close.

“fuckin’ hell,” george curses quietly, voice gravelly. his fingers drum on the leather, and a deep groan echoes around the car, making your mind go to all the places it really shouldn’t.

you sneak another look at him, at the way he dwarfs the car seat. his long legs are almost stretched out in front of him, spread wide. your mind wanders to all the times you've sat between them, pleasing him for hours, being a good girl and keeping him warm.

“you’ve gone quiet,” he speaks suddenly and places his hand back on your thigh. it almost makes you jump but you see right in front of you, at another red light and then at his hand on your thigh, at the veins littering it.

“‘m fine!” you squeak, voice weirdly high-pitched.

“you’re annoyed, aren’t you,” he tuts. “‘m so sorry, baby.” he does sound genuinely sorry, stroking your thigh with a gesture that he thinks is comforting.

for you, however, it only makes everything worse.

george draws small circle on your skin, round and round and absentminded as he waits for the car in front of you to start moving. he doesn’t know how strongly you’re trying not to rub your thighs together. he doesn’t know the kind of buzz filling your head, each time his hand inches higher or inward.

“n-no,” you choke out, trying to sound as normal as possible. you’re completely fine! you’re not about to soak through your underwear and onto the rich leather seats. “traffic’s normal.”

the last bit catches his attention but before he can say anything, the light turns green and george removes his hand once again. you scrunch your eyes shut, embarrassed at breathy your voice sounded just now. how girlish and needy.

but the sunlight makes his rings glint again and your mouth goes dry.

oh to feel them against your cunt… your ass…

oh to feel the cold metal on your lips while he shuts you up by shoving his fingers in your mouth.

“baby? you alright?” he tries to sneak a quick glance at you while also keeping an eye on the road. “shit, you’re not carsick, are you?”

sick. yes. that would be one word to describe you—sick in the head for wanting him to use his fingers right now, so publicly in the middle of a busy l.a. highway. right here where anyone can peep in.

he sneaks another glance at you, a bit longer this time with his brows furrowed and lips pressed in a straight line, and places his hand on your leg again. deliberate.

“bab—”

“george!” a whine slips out of you, and you can’t help but cross your legs this time, effectively trapping his hand between them. his fingers are so fucking close to your cunt, so…

“oh,” he breathes out and you feel his fingers move. it’s a swipe against the inside of your thigh, so fucking high up that he might as well be touching you now. no, scratch that. he is touching you now as his finger softly brushes over your clothed cunt. you hiss through your teeth, already sensitive.

“what have you been thinking about, hmm?” your eyes linger on his hand still, half of it disappearing under your skirt. his fingers move deftly, still swiping against your pussy, on the insides of your thigh. “you’re drenched…”

the breath whooshes out of your lungs once the red light hits and george slides the underwear aside.

“yeah?”

“please…” you all but beg, spreading your legs just a bit wider so his hand can fit better. slowly, leisurely, his fingers move through your folds, parting them and making you moan softly each time he brushes against your clit.

the red light even allows him to look at you, but you’re far too gone to care what he sees—your eyes half shut, mouth parted and slack, parting further when his thumb presses against your lit. the cold metal of the ring brushes against warm skin, sending a shiver down your back, and you but thrust up.

“can you–can you go faster?”

“my dirty girl,” he tsks, “you think i’m gonna get you off here? where anyone can see you?”

right. the people. not that you can be blamed for it, the outside world is the last thing on your mind.

“we aren’t in a rush, are we?” his voice takes a low, mocking quality. it’s so unfair that he should know you this well. that he should know how desperate you are for a release. he isn’t in a rush only because you are. a minute more of this teasing, and you might just lose your mind.

“i’ll be—”

a horn cuts you off and his eyes snap to the road, where the light, much to your frustration, has turned green once again. within moments george pulls his hand away, fingers just about coated with slick and places it back on the steering wheel.

“no, no—”

“patience, baby…” he uses the voice he always does when he wants you to obey. it’s the voice that rings around in your head. “i’ll get back to you if you sit patiently.”

and just like that his attention is back to the road again. you huff, aching all over and trying not to replace his hand with yours. it won’t end well for you, if you did that. your thighs feel sticky and the leather of the seat rubs against your skin all wrong. everything is all wrong. craning your neck a little you try to see where the next red light is—suddenly that’s all you crave. suddenly your pulse spikes when you see a light turn green.

but the traffic takes care of the rest, and george’s fingers are back at your cunt the moment the car comes to a standstill.

“you’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he asks sweetly, pressing his thumb against your clit just hard enough that you lurch off your seat, squeezing your legs shut again. this is where his hand belongs, this is where it should stay.

“i’ll be good, i’ll be so… so g-good.” the words get harder the more he touches and teases, drawing a lazy eight around your clit and dipping his fingers in and out, never deep enough though. he always pulls them out just before, keeps you right on your toes. in turn, your fingers curl, long nails digging into the leather until it leaves half-moon shaped marks behind.

if this keeps going, you might just tear through them…

“just a bit m-more… please, george,” you try begging again, not that it worked for you the first time but george relents just a little and pushes his fingers deeper. desperately you clench around him, whimpering and whining and pushing your hips up to take more of him. a second later, he wrenches his hand away, leaving you cold and empty.

tears of frustration brim on your lash line. you were so close, so close to feeling good, feeling floaty. the seat is soaked with your arousal now, and your fingers dig into the seat tight enough to leave your knuckles while. your heart hammers in your throat, head dizzy and swimming with thoughts of only his hands—his hands around your throat, choking the breath out of you. his hands on your ass, squeezing and kneading the skin, hands gripping your hips, your thighs tightly. leaving bruises.

“shh, baby… you’re doing so well,” his gravelly voice interrupts the train of thoughts and you realise you’ve been squirming and moaning, trying to find at least a little friction from the seat but it’s utterly useless. “you’ll wait till the next red light, won’t you? my good girl.”

“your good girl,” you nod fervently, eager to prove how much you deserve his fingers, how much you deserve an orgasm. george looks at you quickly, smiling in a way that makes his face look sharp and smug and goes back to driving. if it weren’t for the bulge in his jeans, you would have been convinced that this doesn’t affect him at all.

you almost close your eyes, swallowing harshly to get rid of the tears clogging your throat. you almost even manage to calm yourself down just a smidge, when the car stops again. this time, you barely get a moment’s notice before fingers thrust inside you, deep. all the way in, hitting the sweet spot. your back arches all the way off the seat and you cry out his name. you gulp in large breaths, trying not to pass out at the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

it’s like he’s turned the dial up from zero to one hundred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, thumb pressed against your clit. his body is twisted to look at you, lips hovering so close to the shell of your ear. once or twice he even nips the soft skin, earning himself yet another cry.

“yes, yes, that’s it… that’s…”

“yeah? that’s it? am i doing good, baby?”

he is, he knows he is. you feel like you’re on cloud nine, completely forgetting about the other cars outside along with the heat and traffic and every other thing that frustrated you not even an hour ago. the only frustration you know is the frustration of not getting to cum.

“words, sweet girl,” he taunts, “am i doing good?”

“so good… so good…”

george tsks. “but what if i’m not done with you yet, hmm?”

you can almost hear the pout in his voice, the undercurrent of smugness, and this time you see it coming before he pulls away.

“no no no nooo, george!” it’s the most frustrated you’ve ever been, shaking and crying, edged over and over again, and at his mercy. every time he pulls away it’s like your body’s doused with ice cold water, each time more tears fall down your cheeks. your mascara must be a mess by now, lipstick smudged by how much you’ve bit your lips.

“you’re mean,” you pout at him and george laughs. he actually laughs!

“do you want me to stop th—”

“no!” you cry out, scared that he’d really stop. scared that you’d have to sit here in a limbo, aching so desperately between your legs and not being able to do anything about it. but at the next red light, george takes mercy on you.

his fingers hover right over your clit, flicking it swiftly before they’re inside you again. the metal of his rings stings against your skin, digging into the sensitive skin. if anything, the mix of pain and pleasure is all the more heedy, dizzying. your head falls back, back still arched off the seat until your hips are moving of their own accord, rutting and grinding against his hand, riding his fingers. you try to match his pace.

it’s too much, too much, too much.

“pretty baby,” he coos, “look so good riding my fingers, look so good when you’re desperate for me like this.”

desperate is exactly what you are. you finally place your hand over his, pushing his thick fingers deepers. to your surprise, george even lets you. the rough calluses provide just the right amount of friction. his name is the only thing you can chant over and over again, moaning to the rhythm of his fingers.

“please, please, wanna cum. please george…”

you know the light's about to turn green, you don’t have much time. you know if he denies you again, you might just lose whatever hold you have on your sanity. george places a kiss on your jaw, lips warm against your skin, his stubble almost scratchy. then his mouth hovers right above your ear.

“since you asked so sweetly…”

your entire body tenses at his words, pussy clenching around his fingers so hard until your can practically feel the rings inside you. pleasure swims through your whole body and your vision turns white. the next thing you feel is something wet and sticky sliding under your ass, coating his hands and george continues to finger you.

your legs shake and tremble with the force of the orgasm, stars flare in front of your closed eyelids and you grip onto his hand, keeping it buried deep between your legs, riding it until the dizzying waves of pleasure subside. grinding on it until you can finally slow down and open your eyes again.

two seconds later, the light turns green again and he has no choice but to pull away. his fingers leave a trail of your release on the steering wheel.

“can i clean you up?” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him even though he’s trying to focus on the road. doesn’t matter though, his hands look just as delicious as before and you can’t help but stick his fingers in your mouth, suck on them, swirling your tongue around the digits until all you can taste is your release. the salty taste of it sits on your tongue and you pushing his fingers in deeping, almost gagging around them, till your lips touch the cold rings.

“fuck,” george curses under his breath when you let go of them and swerves the car, taking the exit he’s just seen.

“what are you doing?”

“going to find a hotel for us, sweet girl.” he mumbles, shifting in the seat, trying to adjust his very obvious bulge. “haven’t gotten enough of you just yet.”

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl @sinarainbows @starvchaser @noacfapologyst @abouttofillhisshoes

add yourself to the taglist

#no i'm not writing a pt 2 sorry. they fuck. you can imagine 🤭#the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george daniel smut #minors do not interact #the 1975 fanfic #george daniel fanfic

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smallidarityfan · 3 months ago

Note

this is my first ever ask hi I just wanted to say.. u shared that adorable teleporting clip of scar and pearl & Ive been thinking about them ever since!!!!....... & I know this is a smallidarity account but you've infected me so if you have any more scearl thoughts in that large brain of yours. me personally. I am all ears ^__^ ^___^ ^____^

JAHSHS HI im very honoured to claim your first ask and also sorry for replying to this after months 😭 tbh I just wanted an excuse to show this art I made of them like 2 years ago that i recoloured recently

anyways thoughts:

I watched both their POVs since the start of Season 8 to season 9 and loved their vibe of messy, ambitious architect x bright and passionate artist and caretaker?

( character rant ahead )

In Season 9 to me, Scar is this stressed out architect trying to envision his ambitious dream for his theme park within the limited timeframe of the season. He struggles taking care of himself staying up for projects and inevitably leaves messes around the place (chest monsters and lack of proper base lighting)

Even before the sudden light into his world, Scar already admired Pearl's work as an artist— frequently going to her base just to admire what she's done— and now this amazing artist was here at his theme park working as his designated cleaning lady, as someone who doesn't mind the crummy pay of 64 diamonds per week he was only able to offer...

And then Pearl comes around and decides to offer her cleaning lady services to lift his stresses yk? She offers to help him organize his chests, to clean up the area, and to teach him how to take care of himself again. Scar was appalled by that care since nobody really took that time for him, yet slowly melts into it yk?

Haven't even gotten into the life series aspect of their relationship GOSHHHH with the whole sunflower thing AGHDGGDHSD

In Double Life, there should be something said about how Scar was able to understand Pearl's loneliness after Scar's Magical Mountain in Last Life... and especially how they both loved their soulmates in Last Life/3rd Life before they abandoned them in the series about soulmates.....

And then Secret Life.... Secret task: Be Pearl's Wingman.............. "What's going on here Sunflower?"................ "If there's one thing I learnt, Pearl, is that no alliance is ever sacred." "*chuckle* Y'know what Scar, you're growing on me."............... Scar having to choose a side between Scott or Pearl and decided to side with Pearl..................... She's dead Scar, you won..............

IM ACTUALLY CRAZY

In my head, nearing the end of Secret Life is when they both already internalized their feelings but of course so close yet so far due to their own griefs (Pearl specifically with the Mounders and her failure of sacrificing herself for them. AND MAKES IT UP BY OFFERING HERSELF TO SCAR........) to ever pronounce it to each other and now Life!Series Scar lives with that grief within him forever CANONICALLY....... BECAUSE HE ISN'T DEAD........ STILL IN THAT FREAKING SUNFLOWER FIELD........................ GAHHHHHH

#pearlscar #my art #i actually havent watched pearl's s10 i desperately need to get on her POV 😭#trafficshipping #hermitshipping #again I have a maid-for-hire au based on s9 but set in modern real life society #but only exists in my brain....#asks stuff #their relationship starts of slow-burn and one-sided from Scar #but eventually Pearl starts understanding Scar and sees the world through his eyes #i feel like all this could be explained better if my head was set straight but hopefully you get what im saying 😭#i made like 2 rants about pearlscar on this blog which are mostly the same thing

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that-sarcastic-writer · 1 year ago

Text

Twisted Love

Billy Russo X Latina!Mercenary!Reader

Summary: based on this moodboard murder date with Billy made by the love of my life @fluffyprettykitty thank you for the inspo

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors yall better dnfi, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, fingering, blood kink, choking, hair pulling, degradation, he calls her a whore and she likes it, allusion to gunplay & knife play, Billy and reader get turned on by questionable acts, def dark themes, dark!Billy, dead bodies, actual murder, many acts of violence, and Billy canonically likes it rough and painful, they're both just unhinged

Reader is referred to as she/her, speaks Spanish here and there and is described to have long hair. If this is not you, that is okay. This is solely based on the moodboard. I use no further specifications so you can enjoy it regardless :)

WC: 4k

A/N: I'm sorry in advance for the person that I am, I blame selene for encouraging this. You have been warned, you read under your own responsibility. I missed Billy and his murderous questionable kinks, so here we are. (If you actually enjoy this you I guarantee we will see each other in hell)

"Billy." You groaned quietly, the voice in your earpiece shutting up at the sharpness of your voice.

"Yes darlin'?"

"I can't focus on shooting your target if you keep saying how you're going to fuck me stupid tonight. Or how you've been really wanting to fuck me with your gun." You said the last part through your teeth as you did your best to remain professional and stay focused. You were a mercenary, sure, but you were a professional one.

"If you keep talkin' back, I will do so much more than that. You like knives, don't you?" You could hear the smug smirk he probably had on his face through his voice, even through your earpiece.

You couldn't help but groan, your skin growing burning hot under all of your gear, and it was getting hard to control your breathing the longer he kept spitting filthy words at you.

"This is your op, Billy. So we can either have phone sex or I can shoot your target. Can't do both." You rolled your eyes, adjusting your grip on your handgun as you tried to ignore the heat between your legs. You heard him chuckle.

"You're gettin' paid either way darlin'," he reminded you. "But if you get a headshot, I'll give you your bonus."

You actually laughed at this, a smirk of your own falling on your lips, "You know I never miss. Don't gotta double tap if I shoot 'em in the head."

This was like a little game of yours. Any time Billy called you— for anything other than a good fuck— it was for a target mission off the books. Legally, he was just a private contractor. Private security was his main gig. But off the books, he was still getting paid to take out targets for his old military superiors. When someone pushed at his buttons too much, he called you. Because you were like a ghost, in and out, no one even knew you were ever there. And he thought your post-op adrenaline made for killer sex. You getting paid was just a courtesy on his end. You had honestly stopped caring about the money a long time ago. But he paid you your part anyway. So it was a win-win situation for everyone involved.

"Mhmm, I love it when you talk dirty." He sighed a long breath and you smiled to yourself, holding your gun close to your chest as you quietly walked through the dark, otherwise empty house. You could hear movement and indistinct voices on the other side of the wall

"I hear voices in the next room. Two targets so far. Standby for confirmation." Billy laughed at how official you sounded. You truly never did get rid of that military part of you.

You peeked your head through the crack on the door of a large study. You chewed on your bottom lip as you tried to identify the targets. One was the man Billy had hired you to kill, a Marine Colonel that had gotten too greedy and was making threats. That didn't exactly sit well with Billy or anyone else involved. The other man, though, you weren't sure, but he also seemed to be military.

"I'm looking at your target. But I'm not sure who the other one is. Looks military, though. What do you want me to do?" You whispered the question to Billy. He stayed silent for a few seconds. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, growing inpatient at his silence. But he spoke before you could yell at him.

He groaned first, clearly something hadn't gone according to plan. "Just take both of them out. I don't need witnesses."

"Whatever you say, pretty boy." You took in a deep breath, your heart starting to race as the adrenaline started to pump in your blood.

"Remember, I want you in and out, don't worry about nobody else. That's what I'm here for, baby."

"You're such a romantic, mi cielo." You bit your lip, you heard him chuckle in response.

You waited another second, long enough for them to be close enough for you to take them out both at the same time before the other could draw their gun. Stealth was your specialty anyway. You were thankful the large doors didn't creak when you opened them further. Both men were facing away from you. Good. You took a step inside the study, and with a grin, you pulled the trigger.

One.

Two.

Both men dropped to the ground with a thud. You sighed out the breath you had been holding and you slowly approached the two bodies. And you smiled at your work.

Headshots.

"I'm done here. Getting out now." You said to Billy. You heard him give you a quick hum of confirmation.

You nodded to yourself, picking up your shell casings before you hurried out of the study. You went around through long halls for what seemed to be an eternity, until you came to the hall that led to the foyer of the house.

Almost there.

"Don't you fucking move." A voice rasped beside you. You saw out of the corner of your eye the barrel of a handgun. Well so much for Billy taking care of everything.

You closed your eyes, slowly raising your hands to show your handgun. You turned your head enough to look at the man. More military. Great. This was going to be shit show.

"Who the fuck are you? Why are you here?" The man screamed at you, his gun still on your face. You said nothing, you simply stared at him. He couldn't really see your face, not through your balaclava. Only your eyes were visible. "Give me that fucking gun and get on the ground. Now!"

You stared at him, not moving a muscle. The only man you would ever get on your knees for was Billy. This one could shoot you for all you cared.

"I said get on your knees or I'll shoot!'

"Shoot me then." You said dryly, hands still in the air.

Just get a bit closer, you thought.

The man seethed at your response and stepped closer. Your lips irked up. You turned your body, your free hand gripping his gun and diverting it away from your head. The man squeezed the trigger. You grunted loudly, your ears ringing, but you didn't care. You wrestled with the man, landing a punch on his face that made his nose gush with blood. He stumbled backward but didn't fall. If anything, that made him more angry, and he lunged at you. He reached for the braid that stuck from under your balaclava and he pulled, really fucking hard. You grunted out in pain when he tugged your hair to drag you close enough for him to grab you. You fought against him, but you could only do so much against a man twice your size. His fist hit your jaw with enough force to make you dizzy for a second. And he took that opportunity to grab your vest and threw you over a nearby coffee table. Your body slammed so hard against it you ended up on the floor, with it in pieces.

You weren't a religious person, but goddamn, you were seeing God right about now. You groaned in pain as you tried to push through. You tried to sit up as fast as you could, but the man was already towering over you, and a large boot forced you down by your chest. You forced down the cry of pain you wanted to let out, only breathing out sharply instead. You couldn't find your gun, and you had one, pointed right at your face now.

"Fucking bitch." The man spat, leaning down to tear your balaclava from your face. You grunted, your face twisted into a scowl as he pulled it off. He scoffed. He was about to say something into his walkie when a voice you were all too familiar with caught his attention.

"Hey." Billy stood a few feet away, having heard the gunshot and ran in. He didn't even flinch when he pulled the trigger. The man dropped dead a second later.

You blew out a breath of relief, and you laughed, running a hand over your face. Well shit. You were hoping you wouldn't get any blood on yourself tonight.

Billy was beside you in a split second, a large hand pulling you up to your feet. His eyes were big with a mixture of panic and anger, and he scanned your body for injuries. His hand landed on your lip, split and bleeding. His jaw ticked but you shook your head at him.

"You okay?" He asked with a heavy breath. You nodded at him, your own hands touching his face. Blood stained his neck and part of his face. But you had a feeling it wasn't his. "Si?"

You nodded again, "Si."

Billy plastered a hard kiss on your lips, his hand holding the back of your head. You hummed against his lips, gripping his own vest. He pulled back after a few seconds, and his eyes landed on the dead man lying next to him. His neck twitched, and his jaw tightened as he pulled the trigger two more times. The man was already dead, Billy had shot him in the head the first time. But he needed to get that out of his system.

"That was by far the hottest thing you've ever done for me." You breathed out, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You kissed him this time. Much harder. He groaned into your mouth, the side of his handgun brushing your hip as he gripped them with both hands.

"Did you do what I asked?" He muttered against your lips.

"Headshots. As always." You smirked against his lips, your skin growing hot just as the ache between your legs grew.

"Mhmm, that's a good girl." He pressed another kiss to your lips. "Come. Gotta get outta here."

You nodded, looking on the ground for a second for your handgun. Your eyes skimmed around for a bit before you smiled and you happily picked it up from the ground. When you looked up, Billy was looking at you with an irked eyebrow.

"Que? It's my favorite gun. I wasn't gonna leave it here. It's got my fingerprints all over it." You shrugged, casually walking past Billy towards the kitchen. You came through that backdoor. It'd probably be easier to leave that way as well.

Billy watched you with a raised eyebrow. It did always turn him on to see you in your tactical gear. He laughed to himself and followed you. He stayed close behind you, within hand reach at all times. He was so close that he actually bumped into your back when you stopped abruptly. You turned around, and one of your hands came to grip his vest while the other held up your handgun. He frowned, about to question you when you forcefully moved him to the side an inch or two.

"Agh shit!" He grunted out, a bullet still catching the plate on his back with enough force to make him stumble.

You kept your grip on his vest as you pulled the trigger twice and he heard a loud thud a second later. When he turned his head he saw a guard on his back, writhing in pain as blood gushed from his chest. Shit, he must have missed the guy when he was clearing the outside of the house.

He draped a hand over his shoulder where the bullet hit, eyes never leaving you as you quietly walked over to the guard, gun held up. The man began to stammer, coughing up blood as he tried to crawl away. You blinked, head tilted and jaw tight as you pulled the trigger two more times. The man stopped moving with that second bullet. Your face twisted with disdain when you felt blood splatter on your face. Again.

"Agh, puta sangre de mierda." This fucking blood.

You harshly wiped your hand over your face, probably making a bigger mess than there already was. You flinched, your gun held up and stopped at Billy's chest. He had a wide smirk on his face, his hands raised, but he was just mocking you.

"You wanna point that gun somewhere else, pretty girl?" He taunted with a smirk. You gritted your teeth and clenched your jaw.

"Estás fucking sordo?" Are you fucking deaf? Billy couldn't speak Spanish. But he had learned to pick up on your angry Spanish over time. His smirk only grew wider when you holstered your gun and slammed your flat hands against his chest, attempting to shove him, but he didn't move much. "Did you not hear the motherfucker coming? Are you okay? Did the bullet go through the plate?"

He found your angry concern amusing, endearing even. But the mocking smirk on his face only made your blood boil more.

"Aw, my pretty mercenary is worried about me?" He taunted you more, and the fire in your eyes made him completely forget about the throbbing on his shoulder blade. Though he felt a different kind of throb when he felt your flat palm collide with his cheek.

His eyes widened for a second as he processed the heat spreading through his cheek. He breathed a laugh, but it wasn't a humorous one. Not in the slightest. He ran his tongue over his lips, he could taste the smallest bit of blood. He counted in his head. Six guards altogether, three Marines inside. There were five dead bodies outside. Four inside. Good.

He didn't say a word as he reached out to you, he grabbed the back of your braid and crashed his lips against yours with so much force it gave you whiplash. You didn't protest though, you welcomed it, actually. You gripped his vest tightly as he slipped his tongue inside your mouth. He hummed with satisfaction as you clung to his vest. He gripped your hair tightly as he made you back into the kitchen island behind you.

You gasped into his mouth when you felt him hoist you up on the counter.

"The fuck are you doing?" You pulled back enough to speak, not that you were arguing with him, you had been wanting him ever since you got here. He flashed you a sadistic grin as he gripped your vest and pulled you to the edge so that he was standing between your open legs.

"Gonna fuck you stupid. That's what." He replied in a heartbeat as his fingers unbuckled the clasps of your vest. He tossed it aside and his eyes instantly landed on the blood splatters staining your jaw and neck.

"Right here?" You gave him a wide eyed look, lips slightly parted as he ridded himself of his own vest, leaving him a plain black long-sleeve compression shirt.

"Right here. You did everythin' I asked, and more. And you know I'm a man of my word." Your long-sleeve black shirt was gone next and his lips immediately attached to your jaw. "You don't gotta play innocent with me darlin'. Bet if I touch you you’ll be soaking wet."

Fuck, you wished he didn’t know you so well. You were real fucking good at pretending with the whole world. But you couldn't pretend with him. And you couldn't deny that you had been wanting him to fuck you senseless the second you saw his face that day. And that tactical uniform of his, fuck it didn't help your cause in the slightest.

"You know I always want you, doesn't matter when or where." You answered through a ragged breath, your eyelashes fluttered as he ran his tongue over the skin of your neck, and at the same time, he shoved his hand into your cargo pants, right past your panties.

"Yeah, you want me? You want me right now? Covered in blood and everythin'?" He pulled back enough to watch your face as his finger brushed over your cunt. And he was pleased by how right he was. You were so wet. Your mouth fell open as he slipped a finger into you with ease. "You are such a fuckin' whore. You've been this wet this whole time, haven't you? You just killed three men for me, and you're wet?"

God, you should feel disgusted with yourself, with him, but you felt nothing of the sort. If anything, it aroused you more. You ground your hips against his hand, desperate for more as your shaky hands fumbled with the belt of your cargo pants. You tugged until you ultimately got them off one leg once you managed to kick off one of your combat boots. Billy only watched with amusement as you struggled. But he otherwise didn't help you. He liked watching you struggle.

"Goddamn you're so needy. Such a needy whore." He mocked you with a laugh, but he rewarded you with another finger nonetheless.

"Yes, yes I'm a whore." You whined, holding yourself upright by gripping his shirt. "I'm your whore. Fuck— Please, I did good."

Billy nodded at this, the pathetic pleads coming from your mouth making his cock strain against his cargos even more. How such a fierce and vicious mercenary like yourself could give in so easily to him he had no idea, but he sure wasn't complaining. Not in the slightest.

"Yeah. Yeah, you did. I'm gonna give you exactly what you deserve, don't worry." He spoke through a groan, he rutted his palm against your clit, brushing against it as he curled his fingers against that one spot that made your thighs shudder.

You bunched his shirt around your fist as your mouth fell open in a silent moan, your hips involuntarily grinding against his hand. Billy watched with amusement as you desperately rocked yourself back and forth on the counter while he undid his pants with his free hand.

His fingers left you abruptly, leaving your chasing and jaw slacked. You whined, your mouth opening to curse at him but he was gripping your braid with one hand as he brushed his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick.

"Yell at me again and I will fuck you with my gun until you cry." He spat, his jaw twitching as he forcefully slammed into you with a snap of his hips.

You actually cried out this time, your toes curling and your nails dug into his chest. He pulled you to the edge of the counter until your legs hung loosely over his hips. He wound up his hand around your hair, pulling your head back as he rutted himself against you. He held your neck on full display as he dipped his head and ran his tongue over where blood stained your skin.

"Fuck baby— you always feel so good. But goddamn, you fuckin' taste like heaven." He breathed against your skin, dragging his tongue from your pulse point to your jaw.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, tangling around the chocolate locks to the root. And you pulled, and you pulled so hard he actually grunted in pain.

"Dios Billy." You moaned, your lips against his ear, and he slammed into you so hard then he made you slide back on the counter.

"Not God, baby. But I can be." He breathed out a laugh, his face pressed against your cheek as he wrapped his long fingers around your throat. "Trust me, darlin', when I'm done with you, not even God is gonna make you get outta bed tomorrow."

You choked out a cry as he brought you closer against him— if that was even possible— and threw one of your legs over his shoulder. His cock hit so deep it actually made you roll your eyes back this time.

"O-oh shit— shit Billy. I'm gonna come. Please, I wanna come." You spoke in between pants, what you could manage to say with his hand on your throat. You were holding on to him for dear fucking life, both arms thrown over his shoulder as if he was the only thing keeping you from slipping off the countertop.

"You wanna come? My pretty mercenary wants to come? You earned it, didn't you?" He pulled back enough to watch your face, and he released the grip on your throat so you could respond.

"Yes! Coño I earned it, please." You sounded so desperate but you didn't care, if there was one man in this world you could let yourself be vulnerable for it was Billy.

"Mhmm, of course you did." He slipped his hand between your bodies and his thumb rubbed harsh circles on your clit and he drilled into you, pretty much holding you in one place with a tight grip on your ass. "Yeah, like that? Yeah just like that, come for me. You're good at following orders, so come."

You were seeing white the second his thumb was on your clit and your fingers tugged at the roots of his hair as you came with a silent cry. You eyes were screwed shut and your mouth was hanging wide open as you gripped him tight enough to make his cock twitch. He breathed out a sigh of satisfaction and his lips curled up as he felt your wetness coat his cock. He looked down, and the sight of his cock slick with your come almost made him lose it.

With a grunt he held you to his chest with a tight grip on the back of your neck and his fingers dug into your ass, holding you still for him as he fucked you.

"Yeah, you take it just like that. Fuck— fuck that's a good girl." He moaned out the words, his head falling back ever so slightly. Enough for you to press your lips to his neck. But what made him completely lose it was your tongue, on his neck, similarly licking up the dry blood on his skin. "Ooh fuck me."

His fingers dug deep into your scalp, enough for you to feel a slight burn, but you didn't fucking care. You dragged your lips up to his jaw as he fell still and you breathed out a laugh of satisfaction when you felt him spill himself inside you. He dragged his hips lazily, once, twice more before he just stood still. His fingers were deep rooted in your hair and his eyes were closed. You closed your own eyes as you pressed your forehead against his chest with a lazy smile on your face.

Billy was silent, his fingers loosening on your hair until only his fingers were lazily dragging his fingers through the now loose strands. You kept your face on his chest, simply listening to his rapid heartbeat that matched your own. It slowly went steady, back to its normal rhythm. Only then Billy pulled back enough to look at your face. His dark eyes watched your face with something much softer and his fingers brushed over your bruised lip.

"'M fine Billy. You've done worse." You sighed softly at him, your hand coming up to hold his wrist. He furrowed his eyebrows at you.

"That's me, though. I've never hit you— without your permission anyway. But I've never bruised your face. It ain't the same." He frowned, and you couldn't help but grin at his protectiveness.

"I said I'm fine, mi cielo." You squeezed his wrist and shot up your eyebrows at him with a suggestive smile on your face. "Does this place have a master bathroom?"

Billy thought for a second, he had been here once at least before. He figured a house this big probably did have a large bathroom.

"Probably, why?"

"Wanna wash this blood off me?"

Billy's scowl was quickly replaced by a wide smirk of his own and he could feel his cock twitch the slightest bit as your suggestive tone.

"For this pussy? Baby, I'd kiss the fuckin' ground you walk on."

Billy was a fucked up man that had met his fucked up match. And he'd be damned if he ever denied you anything.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #billy russo smut #billy russo #the punisher

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 2 years ago

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Ok, I've had this idea in my head for WEEKS

(Sagau) what if creator just nonchalantly told the characters (archons (including nahida(platonic ofc)))

that they were pushed in a campfire as a kid? (God this is so random please save me)

^ mmm Pyro brain go burrr

#nothoughtsheadempty

READER WAS WHAT?!

OHOHOHOHO, @royalrose2011, THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GO DOWN. THEIR ACOLYTE CAREERS SHALL BE TURNED UPSIDE DOWN >:)

(Disclaimers: Might be OOC!)

Venti

Man would be concerned as frick. How—no, why would someone push you into a campfire of all things?! Were they not concerned for all the hazards it could've brought?

"Your Grace, you were pushed into A WHAT?!" Man will be praying to the Almighty Creator (aka you) that what you just said was just a prank—or maybe he heard it wrong.

But once you confirm it, this man is throwing all dignity into the wind (get it?) and about to hunt down these dudes who decide to throw you into a fire.

It takes all of your will to stop him from committing arson in your world, knowing you have no control over the government :')

Zhongli

He's more worried if you were hurt from the incident than worrying about morons who don't know what's dangerous or not.

"Your Grace, are you unharmed from such an incident?" Constantly checking over you to make sure you're unharmed whenever he gets the chance. He might not be exactly free all the time, but he can certainly make sure you are protected.

Guy will use every excuse in the book to make sure you are shielded. Whether literally or metaphorically, that depends on the situation.

Once this guy sees your hurt, expect to be walking behind you like some sort of bodyguard for a good few months.

Raiden Ei

Both worried and enraged. Who dares to hurt the Almighty Creator, going so far to have the audacity to push them into a campfire?!

"You need not worry, Your Grace—I will ensure you that these traitors deem no threat to you any longer." Even though it's probably been years since this incident, here's the archons, taking it seriously. Ei is not an exception—she will literally hunt the people who pushed you into that campfire.

Would see no end until she's killed the traitors, even though you're basically trying to convince her otherwise. It was years ago—you've gotten over it! Besides, you weren't dead!

She is not taking any of your excuses, so be prepared to pin her down when she does realize and see those traitors. No one shall stop her pursue of vengeance for the Almighty Creator!

Nahida

Very very worried and is practically hoping you weren't hurt.

"Your Grace, why would they push you into the campfire? Don't they know how dangerous it is?" Doesn't really like the fact that mortals do this to one another, let alone the Almighty Creator.

Poor bean is very worried about you so now you must reassure her that you are fine whenever you go off on long trips, travels, etc.

And that's about it! Sorry if it isn't to your liking, but that's all I got lol :')

See you all around!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO MAKE THIS! MY MOTIVATION DIED ON ME SOBBING. I HOPE YOU GUYS STILL ENJOYED IT THO!

AND HOLY COW, TYSM FOR 200+ FOLLOWERS 😭 YALL ARE AMAZING!

Check Out The Ghost Rebel's Blog Description to See if Their Mailbox is Open!

#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact sagau #yandere sagau #sagau genshin #genshin cult au #sagau x reader #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #genshin x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact #platonic #sagau venti #sagau ei #sagau nahida #sagau zhongli

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blindmagdalena · 1 year ago

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When you mentioned D&D ( I play too!), this idea started to rot my brain. What do you think John would do/think if he found out that the reader made a character based on him? Would he be flattered or upset? Christ, I have so many of this dumb things in my head. I am so sorry for the future spam. 🥲🥺

"What do you mean you made me?" Homelander asks, brows furrowed as he holds the sheet of paper at a distance, squinting at it slightly.

You can't help but laugh at his bewildered expression. "As a character. You know, for my D&D campaign," you say, which earns you a critical side-eye.

Your "nerd stuff," as he refers to it.

"I went sorlock for it. Storm sorcerer with a two level dip in warlock. That way you can fly, we've got enhance ability for your super senses, and eldritch blast serves as your laser beams," you explain, using your pencil to underline each feature.

"Huh," he says, cocking his head to the side. He frowns. "Strength ten? Ten?"

You purse your lips, biting back a smile. "It's a magic build! And I needed a dump stat," you dismiss, moving to pull the sheet away, but he lifts it away from you, stealing your pencil while he's at it.

"Nope. That's gonna have to be one hundred," he says, pressing the sheet against the wall as he adds a zero to the stat. "Hey!" You protest, pulling on his arm until you're practically hanging from it. "The stats only go up to twenty!"

"Maybe for everyone else they do," he says, barely containing his own smile. "But this is me we're talking about." Continuing down the sheet, he scowls. "12 intelligence? Seriously?" He rewrites that as well.

"Stop messing up my sheet!" You demand, laughing as you try to swipe it out of his hands, but he's holding it high up against the wall, well out of your reach.

"I'm not messing it up, I'm fixing it," he says, full on grinning as he goes down the list. "Aaand... there, perfect," he says, finally handing the sheet to you with all the smug contentedness of a cat bringing home their kill.

You snatch the paper out of his hands, shaking your head as you look it over. "Ridiculous. You gave yourself the stats of a literal god."

"Well, if the shoe fits," he purrs, winking.

It may not be a playable character, but it's the closest you've gotten Homelander to playing Dungeons and Dragons with you.

So far.

#couldn't help myself this was such a fun mental image #and also i HAVE been thinking about making him in BG3 so it fits HAHA #homelander x reader #homelander x you #ask and you shall receive #my writing #thank you for the ask!!#tell me what you play!!#i only have one active pc right now and she's a twilight cleric

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luveline · 2 years ago

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ok so i’ve been thinking about a line in one of your steve zombie au drabbles where steve says something along the lines of “you only stop taking to me when you’re mad” . Maybe we could get a fic where they get in a fight and that happens? i love your writing so much 🫶🏼

thank you for your request ♥ steve zombie!au ♥ I am not good at writing fights so I did them making up! fem!reader 1.2k

The silence is icy cool. You look up at your bedroom ceiling and its small yellow line of water damage and blink. You haven't cried since your argument, though you've felt like you could a couple of times.

It's the longest gap of quiet you've had with each other in a long time. Not counting when you're asleep, you and Steve talk a lot, and when you're sleeping you're touching, so it doesn't feel like you aren't talking.

Now you're both straight in bed, on your backs, hands close but not touching. Not talking.

The window is open, springtime air infiltrating the room. It smells like the wet mulch of sycamore leaves, chilling your skin uncomfortably. You cover your chest with your arms.

"You want me to close the window?" Steve whispers.

Your words feel like mush in the back of your throat. You worry you'll cry if you speak.

Fuck, you hate fighting with Steve. It's a great thing to communicate with one another, and you're good at it — you'd spent a long time learning to get along. Love makes it easier to forgive infractions, but fights still happen.

It's the possible consequences of a fight that freeze you up.

Steve says your name softly. "Come on, don't give me the silent treatment."

"I'm sorry," you say genuinely, your voice all stuck together like you've swallowed a big lump of taffy, "I don't mean to."

"I know. I'll close it, okay? It's…" He stands up. "Cold." He sighs.

You're still mad. You're upset by some of the things he'd said. Underneath that is a searing, unquenchable thought. What if he dies tomorrow and you wasted tonight being mad? What if he gets bit? Shot? Has an aneurysm? You want to stop being mad but anger doesn't work like that. You can't will it away.

Steve closes the window. The frame plunks. You turn your head to watch him climb back into bed, and, buoyed by your looking, Steve slides in on his side and meets you head on. He smells like hand soap and the low hum of a day's worth of sweat. It isn't the worst smell in the world —you're used to far worse— and you kind of like it. You tilt your head toward his and breathe in sync.

"I was wrong when I said you were being selfish," he says quietly. "When you explained it to me, I got it. But I really would be happier if you tried to keep the room clean."

"I'm sorry," you say again.

You try not to fall back into the defensiveness you'd felt earlier. You'd taken your insecurity in yourself and projected it on your relationship.

Steve waits.

"I didn't realise you were cleaning up after me so much."

He puts his hand on your hip, a warm handprint seeping into your skin. "I don't really mind cleaning up after you," he says sheepishly.

He shouldn't have to, though.

You're being honest, you hadn't noticed that he was keeping things in certain places, organising your stuff, turning your tiny room into a clean, safe space for the both of you. But when he'd tried to tell you, you'd gotten defensive, and he's quick to frustration, and tada, your first fight in the loved up months had occurred.

You don't know what to say. You don't really want to talk, your body focused almost completely on the shape of his palm where it presses into you.

"Just talk to me," Steve says.

"I don't know what to say."

"Say anything," he encourages, his hand travelling under your t-shirt to squeeze at the naked skin under your chest.

"I don't want to fight again."

"Then we won't." Steve bursts forward and kisses you. Despite its sudden nature it's a soft thing, close-mouthed. He pecks you twice and breathes a sigh against your lips. His hair brushes over your cheek so lightly it tickles.

"I shouldn't have said you were selfish. I'm sorry, baby."

He'd actually called you a selfish asshole, which had hurt a shocking amount. Name-calling isn't really a thing you guys do anymore, and it had surprised you, but…

"I think I deserved it for brushing you off. For not noticing how much you do in here," you murmur.

"We've haven't talked about it before, I don't blame you for not taking it seriously." His hand moves to the small of your back. He pulls you in, and only after he's closed the gap between you does he ask, "Can we stop fighting?"

"You're not still mad?" you ask.

"Not really. Are you?"

You wrap your arms around him. "Maybe a little," you admit. "I don't think it's your fault, though. I don't know."

"Be mad if you want. Have space if you need it, even if it's gonna drive me crazy, but please don't stop talking to me."

His voice sounds uncharacteristically small.

It might be silly, but any anger you'd been holding onto dissipates just like that. You tuck your face into the nook over his shoulder, fingers splayed over his back. You kiss his neck gently.

"Stevie," you mumble. "Sorry. I'm not mad, okay? Are– are you?"

"I just told you I'm not."

"I know, but sometimes I think you'll tell me what I want to hear."

Not to be full of yourself, but you know Steve loves you. It makes a lot of things easier, most things in fact, but it makes understanding how he's feeling in moments like this harder. You both want to sweep it under the rug and be sweet on one another again, but avoiding the issue will only make it bigger.

"What do you want to hear?" he asks lightly.

"Steve." You laugh, rubbing the tip of your nose against the neckline of his shirt. It pulls.

"I'm not mad. I think all the mad kind of went away after I called you an asshole. Which I'm sorry for."

"You've called me worse."

"I'm sorry for that, too."

You drop your head back on the pillow to get a good look at him, locking your gaze onto his. His eyes look very dark in the dim light of the room. The sun is setting quickly. Soon, it'll be night time.

"So we're both sorry," you say, twisting a piece of his hair around your finger. "And I'm not gonna stop talking to you. You couldn't make me. You could break up with me and I'd still follow you around asking stupid questions."

He tries not to smile. A laugh bubbles between his lips, and it's like the sun comes out right there in your tiny dorm room in Michigan.

"Shit, I love you," he says.

You push his chin up to kiss the underside of his jaw. "I love you too."

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you

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wavypotatochips · 2 years ago

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i love sergio so much, can u write another one? maybe where he likes to tease reader a lot but she’s very shy and introvert so sometimes he stops doing it because he might be scared he could offender her, like he’s very soft and lovey with her and maybe they both have a crush on each other ?

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Sergio Ramos x Female Reader

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.4k

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: You are a shy, introvert photographer who PSG hires to take pictures of the players. You have always had a soft spot for Sergio Ramos, even before you were hired. With more time spent together, your crush is just growing, especially considering how sweetly he treats you. One day, He believes he has overstepped the mark one day when he does something that makes you flee.

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: I am so sorry for the wait!! (college has me in a chokehold rn) Of course I can write another! Thank you so much for requesting (: I'm not truly sure how to convey a very shy/ introverted individual, but I tried my best! Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

[Translator Spanish is used- Note that translation may be wrong.]

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ♥

With just a few seconds remaining, the striker has a chance to score and is going to kick, but Sergio stops him, giving PSG the victory. You smile to yourself and raise your camera to your eyes while shooting pictures of everyone as the boys rush over to him to celebrate. In order to capture Ramos alone, you keep the camera raised while you wait for the ideal opportunity. As your wish is granted a short while later, you start snapping quickly. He turns to look at you and gives you a wink as you peek through the camera lens to take the picture. Your heart starts to beat quickly as a flush spreads over your cheeks. "Got any good shots?," Ricardo, one of the other photographers for PSG, inquires. Ricardo, who is your age, constantly makes an effort to start a short conversation with you despite the fact that he is aware that you might not be interested in talking. But, because you two work side by side all day, you are closer to him than the other employees. You don't say much to him; you just nod your head in return as you look down at the camera and start looking through the pictures you've shot. You are a PSG employee recruited to photograph them for the social media department. As you are far from an extrovert, it comes as a surprise to you that you even got the job. Yet, social media is to thank for your opportunity. As several of the player photographs appeared on the explore page and started going viral, someone from PSG's social media team came across your profile. The next thing you know, an interview has been scheduled, and the rest is history. With butterflies in your stomach, you take a bit longer than necessary to look at the picture you just shot of Sergio Ramos. As a spectator, you have always found Sergio Ramos to be handsome, and your emotions have only gotten stronger now that you have the chance to meet him in person and get to know him better. He never appeared to mind that you were shy, and he always adjusted how he interacted with you to make sure you were at ease, which was especially important given that you spend more than half of your time with guys. He always made sure you were comfortable, whether it was by ordering the boys to step aside when he knew you were too afraid to speak up or by leaving blue raspberry jolly ranchers on your desk when you weren't looking after noticing that you were thrilled to find a blue raspberry-flavored one day in a candy jar. He always shows you the greatest kindness, but you can never tell if it's because he likes you or is simply being nice. Even though you have the largest crush on him, your mind keeps tricking you and making you overly anxious to communicate with him more than half of the time you two speak. Despite your best efforts, it seems difficult for you to make a change.

“Y/N The team is heading back through the tunnel! We should make it back before they do tunnel shots.” Ricardo exclaims, giving you a small smile and then begins to jog towards the team tunnel. You give Ricardo a small smile as you nod your head, mentally thanking him for removing your focus from the picture of Sergio Ramos.

Sergio Ramos looks up at the bleachers and waves to everyone before gazing straight, his smile widening as he spots you walking into the team tunnel. He takes off his shirt and slings it over his shoulder, the adrenaline pumping through his veins from the exhilaration he felt. He sees you gaze down at the camera and as you move towards the tunnel, he starts to lightly jog in your way. He hopes you would compliment him on his outstanding save. Thousands of voices in the stadium have undoubtedly already applauded him, but the only words that will truly resonate with him are those that come from your mouth. He has always had his sights set on you ever since you were hired. As he is frequently surrounded by pretentious models, something about your timidity makes him feel like you are a breath of "new air," which makes him feel compelled to protect you. There hasn't been enough talk between you and him to qualify as a conversation. While he sees you as a fragile flower, he is unsure about how to approach you. The majority of the time, he makes an effort to imply that he is interested in you by showing you small acts of kindness. Other times, though, he will playfully tease you because he enjoys seeing how you respond, whether it be with a smile or a blush to the cheeks.

You hum to yourself as you enter the tunnel, keeping your distance from the players by walking close against the wall. Ramos' voice can be heard saying "Hey Y/N!" as his arm is wrapped around your neck and rests on your shoulder. You flinch a little in surprise at what he does. Your heart beats fast as you swallow anxiously and look up. Your body begins to heat up as your eyes contact him, your eyes instantly scanning down to his tattooed, shirtless torso, which is gleaming with sweat. When you glance up into his eyes, he smiles and winks at you from above. He smirks and leans in to whisper into your ear, “Me desempeñé bien hoy porque sabía que estabas mirando (I performed so good today because I knew you were watching.)” You let out a tiny laugh since you didn't know what to say or do. You look away as your brain begins to process how close you are to his bare chest, your heart is pounding rapidly as if it is going to burst out of your chest. You look around to try and find a way out of the circumstance you are now in, your breathing starts to get faster. Sergio obviously has no malicious intentions, but this is simply how your body responds. When he notices your irregular breathing, his smirk suddenly vanishes. "Y/N are you o-" he begins, but you hurriedly push his arm off your shoulder and move swiftly in the direction of the closest restroom. Ramos was unable to do anything but watch as you almost ran away from him, his joy leaving his body and being replaced with remorse.

And the fact that he did not see you for the rest of the evening only made him feel worse.

Meanwhile, in the restroom, your smile never fades as you recover your breath before squealing. “Oh my gosh,” you mutter to yourself, "Oh my Gosh, I can't believe that just happened!” You start whispering as you begin to recount all that just occurred. “I performed so well today for you, Y/N.” "Oh?-" you exclaim as you put your hand on your chest, “-for me?... How sweet of you. Deberías mirar las fotos que tomé hoy, te ves tan sexy(You should look at the pictures I took today, you look so hot.)” You remember the warmth that radiated from his covered in sweat body and giggle as you put your hand on the shoulder that his arm was on. That may seem disgusting, but hey, Sergio Ramos is Sergio Ramos, so even that is acceptable. Your grin then fades as you realize you are in the restroom and you glance in the mirror. You ran away from him yet again. A few weeks ago, you made a vow to yourself that you would talk to him and return his flirtations, but once again, your feet move more quickly than your lips. You groan and run your hands through your hair, too ashamed to even step back outside to see him at this point. "Next time you better speak out!," you say, pointing in the mirror at yourself. “You can do this!" You sigh once more as you realize you must return outside in order to provide the pictures you took on the field to the social media department. You expected your next opportunity to come later that night, but as soon as you went out of the bathroom, you ran into the manager of the media department and immediately began assisting them with their needs. The following day was a rest day, so there was no team meeting. Yet, as the day of the next team practice drew near, he didn't approach you to chat as he typically does. He might occasionally wave or crack a little smile at you, but he hardly ever even blinked an eye at you. You were saddened by this because you assumed that since he now thought you were awkward, he had lost interest in you.

Days have passed, and it is now officially two weeks since your last 'regular' interaction with one another. The guys are practicing right now, and you're back in the restroom, trying to convince yourself that you can talk to him. You are holding your camera and are dressed in black leggings with a PSG windbreaker because it is a little chilly outside due to the wind. You're pacing back and forth while telling yourself, “Okay Y/N…. you can do this…. How hard can it be? You talk to people all the time…. Maybe you can practice with Ricardo first…” You bite your bottom lip, trying not to let your nerves get the best of you because you haven't even attempted anything. You sigh and check your watch, realizing that practice is about to end and that you should head back to the field right now to take any last-minute shots. You give yourself one final nod of approval before heading outdoors to the practice fields.

You go down the hallways, your eyes widen as you start to hear a lot of voices, and you start to walk quickly. Of course they end practice early the day I don't need them too, you think to yourself. You witness Ramos pouring water into his mouth outside, still without a shirt. You want to scream at the sight, but you decide against it and carry on walking. YAs you start to move, you are too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice that you are walking right toward him. “Y/N?” You become aware that you are once more in front of a shirtless Sergio Ramos when he asks a question. Your mouth starts to open and close as if you are a fish out of water as you attempt to conceal the sound of your rapid heartbeat. Come on, say something! Your mouth starts to open and close as if you are a fish out of water as you attempt to conceal the sound of your rapid heartbeat. Come on, say something! Sergio Ramos observes your frozen state for a few seconds before smiling and shaking his head. Before leaving, he puts his palm on top of your head and slightly messes up your hair. As you turn around and watch him walk away, you are upset with yourself. This time you pushed back instead of giving in, even if your neck feels like it has been sewn shut. “Sergio!,” You call out to him. He swiftly turns around with a smile on his face as he realizes you are speaking to him first. He answers, "Yes?," back. You take a sharp breath and swallow, hoping to get rid of your nerves. “You s-should put on your shirt…. I-I don't want you getting sick.” "Alright," He nods and chuckles as he quickly pulls the practice jersey back over his head. With the last inner power you have at this moment, you approach him as he was putting his shirt back on. “Sergio, I also want to apologize,” there is a brief pause as you glance down and start to play with your camera,“I know I don’t always show you how thankful I am for the things you do for me, but I truly am. It's just my inner thoughts getting the best of me, and I believe that if I don't know what to say- then you shouldn't say anything at all.. I'm so-" "Y/N, you don't need to apologize," Ramos interrupts you and says, “I should've never made you feel uncomfortable by invading your personal space last game… I just didn’t know how to apologize to you so I did what I thought was best and kept my distance in hopes that it made you feel better.” You give him a puzzled expression. "I didn't feel uncomfortable at all; I just responded that way because you were too hot to handle." Your lips are swiftly covered with your free hand as you think to yourself, there is no freaking way I just said that. Your eyes widen. Ramos' eyes light up with amusement as he approaches you, hoping to taunt you a little,"Oh yeah? So, am I too hot to handle, or did you really want me to put on my shirt because you didn't want me to get sick?” You use your hand to conceal your face as much as you can because your other hand is still holding the camera. Ramos wraps his arm around you and gives you a big bear embrace as he laughs at the sight of you feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but you are just too cute. I can't help but to mess with you a little." He glances down, but all he can see is the top of your head as you continue to mentally swear yourself out and conclude it's better to remain silent. "How about we go eat ice cream and I meet you in front of the staff housing in about two hours? He asks as he begins to rock you back and forth, "¿Eso te haría sentir mejor? (Would that make you feel better?)” He smiles once he feels you nod your head against his chest.“Great! Then it's a date.” "¿E-espera qué?(W-wait what?)" you ask, raising your head to look up at him, your chin pressing against his chest. He simply winks and releases his hold on you. "I'll see you later, princesa (princess)," he says as he turns to walk away. All you could do was look in disbelief because your brain was unable to comprehend what had just transpired.

The one time you speak first, you get a date with your biggest crush. I suppose there are some risks that are worthwhile.

A/N: Part 2 with the ice cream date, maybe? c;

#sergio ramos imagine #sergio ramos #sergio ramos icons #sergio ramos x reader #x reader #Sergio Ramos x female reader #Sergio Ramos one shot #Ramos one shot #psg imagines #sergio ramos psg #footballer x reader #football imagine #football fanfic #soccer x reader #soccer imagine #soccer one shot #Sergio Ramos x y/n #x you fluff

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distort-opia · 1 year ago

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Hello! So I recently got into batman, and I’ve been slowly climbing my way up my reading list while also browsing through tumblr in search for metas about him, which is how I found your blog, and I really enjoy your metas!

I have a question though that won’t leave my mind, yet I also don’t want to stop my current reading list to jump into another series (JL), so I hope you don’t mind me asking this question to you instead 🙏

Basically, I’ve been wondering whether Bruce has opinions about Clark in relation to his self—Bruce’s self? So far from what I’ve read, Dick is (excuse me if the wording isnt exactly accurate, but just as a sums up) “the one that brings the light to Bruce’s darkness & the ideal self—the best of him”, whereas Joker is “the mirror to his self—the him that ‘what could have been’, the him who took different route”, and I wonder if there is a similar thinking/opinion about this self thing from him @ Clark too (like some sort of parallels)? I’m sorry if it sounds confusing 😅 Thank you!

Welcome to the fandom! Thank you for the kind words, glad you've enjoyed what meta I've put out. Hope you're having a fun time with Batman comics.

Oh Bruce definitely has opinions on Clark and Superman in general, in relation to himself. Though I have to make the note that in no way was Superman intended or built as a narrative foil for Batman's character, a "mirror self". Dick and Joker are characters who populated Batman's world from early on and were always meant to say something about the protagonist. Superman is a protagonist onto himself; he was created before Batman, and his popularity was actually a big factor contributing to Batman's creation. But that doesn't mean these two characters haven't grown together and influenced each other in a myriad of ways.

On a surface level, you've got the... grumpy one/sunshine one dichotomy. Superman is brightly colored and more emotional and fights in the light to bring people hope. Batman is enshrouded in darkness and stoically represses his emotions and fights in the night for justice and vengeance. One in the light, one in the shadows, one alien, one human, the "boy scout" and the "bad boy"... Even though they work together and are both on the side of good, these contrasts between Bruce and Clark are easily noticed by both others and themselves, and have led to conflicts on more than one occasion. But the way this translates in Bruce's head, to approach it from the angle you mentioned, is probably best summed up by the following pages... which I'm putting under a cut since this gets a bit long. Spoilers too I guess, for the Rebirth Batman run (if you haven't gotten to it yet).

Batman (2016) #36

"He's a better man than I am. [...] Who am I, compared to him?" And this is no way a new sentiment for Bruce:

Batman: Hush

Bruce doesn't see himself as a good person. He's capable of risking people's lives, of blackmail, lying, torture and manipulation, of unbelievable brutality and violence in the service of what he believes is his Mission. But he sees Clark as an inherently good person; as an ideal that he himself is not capable of ever reaching, of ever being. If I were to summarize only the projection aspect when it comes to Batman and Superman's dynamic, I'd say it's this one-- Superman is the hero Batman wishes he could be, but not one he'd ever try to become, because he believes himself fundamentally incapable of it. If as you said Dick is someone Bruce relates to and sees parts of himself in, but better (in trying to help Dick he retrospectively tries to help his child self), Clark isn't that. Superman is less of a mirror Bruce actively acts on, and more of a... negative. Clark is technically an alien, and yet in many ways he's more "human" than Bruce, having grown up with a loving family that Bruce wishes he had. Where Bruce tries to rise above the humanity he sometimes sees as weakness, both in emotional and physical terms, Clark is someone who's already "above" humanity, and yet yearns to be part of it. Moreso, Bruce envies Clark's sheer god-like power, but he knows that he doesn't have Clark's good character; that if he had this kind of unstoppable power, his need for complete control would drive him mad. Which actually happened one time, in Superman/Batman (2003) #53-56.

That being said, as is noticeable even in the pages above, this can result in Bruce putting Clark up on a pedestal, and idealizing him a bit too much, to the point of forgetting that Clark is a person too, with flaws and weaknesses. And not just that... the more ruthless and calculated side of Bruce never truly stops seeing Clark's power, both as something he can wield and something that can be turned against him (hence the hoarding of kryptonite and the contingency plans, in case Superman went bad). Perhaps Bruce's attitude more generally is illustrated best in this very recent moment:

Batman (2016) #128

Superman as Earth's greatest hero, and its greatest weapon. And Bruce is willing to risk his life to preserve that, because by comparison, he isn't these things. (And because Clark is his friend.)

#there's so much to their dynamic tbh. didn't delve too much into the more Superbat side of things but #this plays a part. they ARE best friends no matter what they say. but it was a complex journey to get there and it's still complicated #anyway. with the disclaimer that these are my personal thoughts of course #perhaps you'll have different interpretations as you make your way through canon #but I hope this was a fun read Anon!#asks #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne meta #superman #clark kent #my meta

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mbti-notes · 6 months ago

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Anon wrote: Hello mbti-notes. Sometimes I (INFJ) come across people, both kids and grown-ups, who insult my appearance and try to humiliate me in front of other people, and I don't know how to handle the situation besides keeping a stone face and keeping it together until it ends and I find an isolated place to let the tears fall out.

I'm still greatly affected by this despite being already past my teenage years. As I said, I don't know how to effectively react. One of the ways frequently suggested is to pretend it doesn't affect me, but it does affect me so I would just be lying to them and myself and in turn feel even worse for not expressing my real emotions, but at the same time these type of people are shallow, and it would be pointless and counterproductive for me to express my real feelings without them dismissing me or taking advantage of my weak spots again.

When I don't react properly and don't say anything to stand up for myself, I start to feel even worse about myself for allowing them to disrespect me, but I am also at loss on how I should deal or react in this type of situation. I don't know how to properly deal with people like this, what to say to them, how to stand up for myself and not allow myself to be humiliated in front of everyone.

When it comes to any other topic, I know how to call people out, but when it comes to my appearance I just freeze, my mind goes blank and I don't know what to say, especially when I am dealing with middle school kids. As I said, if I play it cool, I feel even worse because they just reopened a scar inside me and I don't know how to stop the bleeding.

I tried to address my core thoughts and beliefs on beauty and disprove them, and while I dismantled my automatic toxic beliefs, it still doesn't fundamentally work, the pain I carry inside still doesn't go away, it still doesn't heal and I still feel offended and degraded, so I'm at loss on what to do now.

Getting support from my family is not an option. Getting support from my friends didn't work. I was bullied for my appearance in middle school, and after that I refused to even think or confront the issue, I currently want to confront it and heal from it but I don't know how or what exactly am I supposed to do to heal the hurt and stop getting hurt over the same thing over and over again. It's not feasible for me to have a mental breakdown every time this happens.

Right now my ultimate goal is to obtain a high self-esteem, so I need to find a way to deal with this issue. I want to stop getting hurt when people insult my looks, learn how to effectively respond when it happens, make it clear that I will not take disrespect and learn how to make people back down and respect me.

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

I'm sorry to hear that you've had to experience such terrible bullying. Disproving core thoughts and beliefs is very important but isn't likely to be enough in your case for two reasons:

Like it or not, feelings matter a lot to you as a Feeler, so until the negative feelings get sorted, the problem will persist. And only dealing with the thinking side but not the feeling side runs the risk of triggering self-sabotaging Ni-Ti loop patterns. You've basically only implemented half the solution, so the results will suffer accordingly. (Although, I do doubt how successful you were with the core thoughts and beliefs as well, which I will address later.)

Bullying is a recognized form of trauma. When you're living with significant past trauma that hasn't been properly addressed and resolved, then the problem goes far deeper than core thoughts and beliefs. You haven't gotten to the heart of the matter yet.

Bringing up your teen years is important because those are formative experiences, and negative formative experiences often lie at the root of adult self-esteem issues. Adolescence is a critical time for learning good social skills. Because teenagers are only in the early stages of learning, the way they think about socializing tends to be overly simplistic.

For example, to the average teenager, successful socializing is defined simply as "fitting in", and they jump to the conclusion that the easiest way is to be like everyone else or get approval from those with status and power. This is why social contagion (the spread of attitudes, beliefs, emotions, and behaviors through the members of a group) tends to be much worse among teenagers. When they see someone else get social validation, they rush to do the same thing in order to obtain the same reward.

However, the fact of the matter is that each one of us is an individual, and there is a limit as to how far an individual can conform. If a teenager is unlucky and simply does not share many things in common with their immediate peers, they won't be able to "be like everyone else" no matter how hard they try. Worse, their attempts to fit in or obtain approval can be transparent and make them come off as pathetic and unlikable.

Not being able to find acceptance in adolescence means the goal of that stage of development remains unfulfilled, which can have a negative effect on ego development. Basically, it can keep a person stuck in the adolescent mindset into adulthood. The more they were denied social acceptance, the more desperately they may crave validation. This is one reason why some people crazily chase affirmation, attention, affection, praise, or social status, as though trying to fill a bottomless void. Or, if they believe it impossible to obtain acceptance for whatever reason, they might develop antisocial tendencies and live in deep denial of their social needs.

Conformity is an unsophisticated socializing strategy. It's the strategy people use when they live under a dictatorship because they don't want to stand out and get their head chopped off. Now, some might say that middle and high school life is very similar to living under a dictatorship, which is fair. Teenagers can be quite harsh in ridiculing and bullying each other into conformity. However, you're not a teenager anymore. As an adult, you have more intellectual capacity for nuanced thought, you have more freedom to get away from toxic people, and you have more resources at your disposal for learning healthier methods of socializing.

Conformity is ultimately a shortsighted strategy that produces negative long term consequences. Any time you desire or attempt to be like someone else, you are denying your individuality, which means you are actively stopping the individuation process. Individuation is a core concept in analytical psychology and considered the main goal of every human being. It is the process through which you bring together all the fragmented parts of yourself to become a whole person. Going against the main goal of life prevents you from living a fulfilling and meaningful life.

Individuation requires you to become more aware of how you define your identity. If you hope to become an adult in mind, not only in body, then at some point you have to be willing to expand your sense of self beyond the narrow confines of your early socialization. Whatever it was your parents/caregivers hoped you could be, whatever it was your peers pressured you into being, whatever it was society convinced you was desirable... these concepts are very limiting, and they do not come close to encompassing the entirety of who you are. Unfortunately, many people never realize this.

The fact that these insults keep shaking you so badly suggests that you are still confined by the images, standards, and expectations of your early socialization. Unconsciously, you still buy into them, you still hope to "fit in" with them, and you still wish to reap the social rewards of living up to them, even when, consciously, you claim otherwise. As a result, you are instantly transported back to adolescence every time you are insulted. In psychology, this is called regression. It's like you are that same person, experiencing the same hurtful rejection. That teenager is still alive and well in you, and you haven't learned what to do with them yet, which is why you have no response available.

Generally speaking, criticism hurts the most when a part of you, deep down, believes it is true or fears that it could be true. That teenager inside you still believes what they were told, so the criticism activates a deep sense of shame or self-loathing. To what extent do you believe it's true that you are indeed physically "ugly"? Are you ashamed of how you look? On what basis do you make judgments about physical attractiveness? Are you using standards of your own making (as a true individual), or are you using standards that were imposed upon you (by your tormentors)? If you have truly "disproved your core thoughts and beliefs" on the matter, then you wouldn't be using any of the standards of the shallow people who insult you. Can you honestly say that is the case?

In psychoanalytic theory, one reason people keep re-experiencing and perhaps even re-inviting similar traumatic experiences over and over throughout life is because they are unconsciously seeking resolution, to obtain closure or to get compensation for what was damaged or lost in the past. Your teenage hurt is still screaming for redress. What got damaged and lost in those experiences? Your self-worth. You say your ultimate goal should be to have high self-esteem, which isn't wrong. But it isn't the root of the problem. To be more precise, it is your self-worth that is being attacked, and then your immature reaction leads you to think poorly of yourself and have low self-esteem.

Self-worth is defined as the degree to which you believe yourself "good enough" and deserving of love. You were basically told, again and again, that you are not worthy of love because of being "ugly", until you believed it. As long as you continue to believe it, the insults will cut you deeply. If your self-worth was damaged or lost during those early experiences and that pain keeps recurring, what needs to change? You need to recover your self-worth. You need to build a self-worth strong enough to withstand the world.

Since self-worth gets tied to social acceptance in adolescence, many people mistakenly believe that self-worth comes from the outside, from the judgments of others. That's not the case. Self-worth is firstly about how YOU judge yourself. Secondly, it is about how to put the judgments of others in the right perspective.

To the first point, reflect on what makes a person worthy of love. Until you can arrive at the right answer for yourself as a true individual, you have no real choice but to default to the ideas you've internalized from others earlier in life. Disproving toxic ideas isn't enough as long as you don't replace them with the right ideas, ideas that you can proudly stand up for.

Healthy self-worth involves:

having a truthful understanding of yourself

being accepting of and compassionate toward the humanity of yourself and others

making good use of your gifts, talents, and abilities

doing things in the world that matter or make a positive difference

When you build self-worth properly, from the inside out, and you fully understand your own worth, who can take that away from you? How could you not feel good about yourself? How could you not feel deserving of love?

At that point, you would understand that the best response to outer negativity is expressing your inner positivity:

With a truthful understanding of yourself, you would be the first to acknowledge your flaws and weakness.

With genuine acceptance and compassion, you could show yourself empathy when others don't, and you could have empathy for whatever was damaging them enough to lash out at you.

By realizing more of your potential, you'll see much more of your positive qualities and your innate power.

By being a good contributor in social situations, you'd be the one to influence others rather than the other way around.

This is what it means to "rise above". People with healthy self-worth don't take things too seriously because they don't perceive every negative thing as a personal attack. They tend to have a good sense of humor, even about themselves. And this easygoing manner can be contagious and encourage others to ease up as well. Imagine what could happen if you were able to meet hostility with such inner strength? Imagine what might happen if you were able to respond to your hurt teenage self with such maturity?

To the second point, reflect on what really motivates people. Fe overindulgence is a pitfall of INFJ development. One common symptom is lack of healthy boundaries. There are two aspects to consider:

- Unexamined desire for affirmation: When you indiscriminately seek "union" with every person you encounter due to Fe overindulgence, what happens? You expect everyone to care for you, you feel pressured to conform to everyone's ideas about you, and you make yourself open to everyone's influence, positive and negative. Is it a good idea to walk around with the underlying expectation that everyone should be good and kind to you? It's not a crime to want love, but you're setting yourself up for disappointment and heartache by seeking love from the wrong people. The smarter way to use Fe is to actively surround yourself with loving people and only pay attention to them, rather than just hoping for the best or waiting around passively for love to appear.

- Unable to separate self from others: What other people think, feel, say, and do is their business; it may or may not have anything to do with you. Until you can learn to "mind your own business", you'll keep getting tangled up in other people's drama. What kind of person goes around insulting others without provocation? A hurt person. An insecure person. A narcissistic person trying to make you bend to their idea of what you should be. These psychological issues are none of your business, so you are under no obligation to attend to them. Don't take on other people's problems as your own. Once you understand that no one is entitled to an answer, agreement, affirmation, or attention from you, you'll no longer take their bait. Having good boundaries means you are assertive in preserving your well-being and honoring your needs. Perhaps you should look into assertiveness training. It is sometimes included in therapy for people who have difficulty setting boundaries.

To recover self-worth isn't easy but it's doable as long as you're willing to put in the self-work. What I've written above should be enough to get you started on the journey. To the final point, you ask me what the best response is in these situations. It depends. Every social situation is unique, so it's important to consider the context. Before I can answer, you'll have to answer this first: Why do you need to respond at all? If what you're really wanting to do is prove that you're "good enough", then you're falling into a trap of depending on others to define your self-worth.

#infj #auxiliary fe #physical appearance #criticism #self worth #self esteem #shame #regression #boundaries #assertiveness #adolescence #conformity #ask

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