Saturn/Ratchet - 19 years old - They/Them - mostly rygos and OC fanfics, but theres more to come ;) - OPEN TO REQUESTS AND IDEAS!
ALL MY RYGOS OCS!
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DNI + Boundaries + More info under the cut!
DNI LIST
ANYONE UNDER 16
proshippers (anyone who ships adult x minor, abuser x victim, or siblings)
trump supporters, ICE supporters, charlie kirk defenders, conservatives
generative AI users (yall are bums)
people who support vivziepop, the game The Coffin Of Andy And Leyley, feral p*rn, the company bad dragon, alfreds playhouse (although if you enjoy Helluvaverse but dont support the creator, thats fine)
GENERAL BOUNDRIES
youre allowed to reblog my posts! ill always appreciate the shares and comments
you can give constructive criticism as long as its still respectful!
you can absolutely ask for smutty requests (ONLY FOR 18+)
fanart of my OCs is encouraged! same with fanfics as long as you tag me and say its my OC :)
nsfw art or fanfics of my OCs is fine too (AGAIN ONLY FOR 18+)
MORE INFO ABOUT ME!
im a BIG FAN of Deadpool!
i currently self ship with Jonas from Oxenfree
IM A THERIAN! my theriotype is a wolf and bird!!!
started writing poems initially, it became a hobby of mine when i was like maybe 15? tryna get back into it occasionally though
i got OCs for almost every media i like, i love doing character design!
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feel free to send me questions or requests or even send your own ideas and OCs for me to see! when i get enough posts made ill make a masterlist eventually :)
Awsten Turner is nothing but a closeted trans guy with horrible insomnia, a passion for art projects, little to no empathy, and a fanclub of girls at his school that are always attempting to hit on him.
His usual outfit would just be an acid washed t shirt, a grey and black striped sweatshirt underneath, dark worn out baggy jeans, black converse that were always dirty as ever, black fingerless gloves, and always having ink or paint on his hands and sometimes even on his face. Where on his face he had specks of ink, he also had dark circles under his eyes from constant lack of sleep, and therefore he always looks like a zombie almost.
When hes painting, he typically works with dark or neutral colors on some random dirtied canvas or a wall somewhere. What does he paint? His lack of feelings. He paints shadows, storms, abandoned scenery, crime, or even just random eyes that stare everywhere. His paintings are rather morbid compared to his sketches in his skethbook.
In his sketchbook, its more pleasant, not better, but pleasing enough to the eye to say "thats nice!" His sketchbook is seen to be filled with sketches and drawings of random flowers, cute wild animals, or people. He only draws random people that he would find attractive, like Richard Haywood.
Awsten lives with his workaholic mother in a big house near a river. He may have difficulty feeling empathy, and his mom may be busy 24/7, but that doesnt mean he feels hatred for her or anyone for the matter. In his eyes, life would suck regardless if his mom paid attention to him or not.
Since his mom never notices, he sneaks out quite often when he doesnt find himself painting til dawn. When he goes out, he usually just goes to the river and sits there thinking about a million things at once, but other times he'll be at a random spot in town by himself or with Richard.
Considering how much of an asshat Richard is, he tends to believe that Awsten has a crush on him. In reality, he rarely gets crushes or catches feelings, and the only thing Richard is good for is that he buys a bunch of weed from Awsten.
He's dealt with at least 8 manipulative exes, 2 narcissistic teachers, 3 friends who had a thing for lying, and a deadbeat dad who gaslit him up over anything. Therefore, any tactic that Richard tried to pull to get Awsten to fall for him, would only backfire to make him upset that you cant fall for shit.
If Richard was cold, you were colder. If Richard pretended you were only friends, you would sigh with relief at the agreement. Richard would push, you would shove. Richard would yell, you would scream. Richard would love bomb, you would talk to a different guy. If you did that, boy did he get jealous.
The only difference between you and Richard was that you were more experienced in manipulation than he was, and you weren't a nepo baby.
.✦ c.w. afab!reader. kinda mean!reader. smut (MDNI!). masturbation (m). fingering. p in v. holland calls reader bitch once. pain kink (slapping & biting). drunk sex. it might feel a tittle rushed i'm sorry
.✦ summary. march finds out something new about himself when you walk into his life.
.✦ word count. 4.7k
.✦ author’s note. this goes out to that anon who was nice enough to share their oc with me! i hope i did her justice. writing this i kinda realized i need to work on my enemies to lovers LOL i hope its not complete shit
see, the problem wasn’t that you were spending 24/7 cooped up in a little office downtown. the problem was the people there. yeah yeah, uncle j was nice enough to offer you a job, and yeah sure, at first, you thought it would’ve been fun. now you can’t really picture leaving even if you wanted to, cause honestly, how would these guys survive?
“‘m sorry, sweetheart—” first of all, why. march knows your name. he knows you don’t like nicknames. you’ve grown awfully tired of telling him not to call you that, so all you do is sigh every time a ‘sweetheart’ or a ‘doll’ comes out of his stupid, stupid mouth. and what’s even more infuriating is the fact that you don’t like him at all. you wonder how your uncle even found him in the first place. you picture march accidentally breaking into his house and healy keeping him like an alley cat. he’s incompetent, stupid, or, very stupid, actually.
very stupid as in accidentally leaving sensitive case information in his desk. which, obviously, you had to deal with. because quite honestly, not only were you your uncle’s assistant, but also kind of like a miracle worker. the one who picks up after both men, the one who accidentally lets out a groan when they’re discussing how to solve a case, muttering under your breath how obvious it was. the one who is sat out front like a goddamn receptionist, as if you didn’t do like 70% of their jobs for them.
“have you seen the larsen’s file?” march asks you, making you come back from your inner ranting. you sigh. standing up without a word, and walking to his office, where you last saw it. he follows behind. “i swear it’s not here. i looked everywhere—“ he interrupts himself when you pull it out from the last drawer in his cabinet. he never looks there.
you shove it into his chest and walk back to your own desk. “oh, here you have it, march!” he imitates your voice poorly. making fun of the way you almost never talk to him. this makes you roll your eyes, although he doesn’t see you.
you busy yourself with organizing the files they don’t seem to be working on right now. when you hear someone approach you. “hey, you can take off. we don’t have any open cases right now and you seem tired.” healy tells you. “my car’s in the shop, j. and the bus won’t come by for another hour. i’m okay right here.” you tell him without looking at him, still organizing the files on your desk. “march will drive you” he states. “i’d sooner rather wait one whole hour under the sun at the bus stop, thanks. and why can’t you take me? you’re my uncle.” you tell him, finally looking at him. “don’t be fuckin’ rude. he lives right by you. and you know your apartment is out of my way. take it or leave it, i don’t care, we’re both leaving anyways.” he tells you. going into his office to collect his things. yeah, he has little patience of your little aversion towards march. sometimes you wonder if they’re secretly lovers, what, with the way he defends him and all.
“so?” you hear march’s voice. and there he is, standing right in front of you. you arch your eyebrow. “am i takin’ you home or what? healy said—“ “healy asked me and i said no, thank you very much. i’ll just wait for the next bus.” you interrupt. he scoffs. “don’t be a fucking baby. c’mon, grab your things.” he tells you, heading for the door.
on one hand, having to ride with him would be hell on earth. but your uncle’s right, you are pretty tired and the bus would be burning hot and it would take you at least one more hour to get home. you hum. silently grabbing your things. you try your hardest to ignore the smug grin march wears.
after you lock up, because of course, somehow, you’re tasked with also doing that, he opens the copilot’s door for you. “thanks” you mutter. he makes a stupid, stupid face and goes “wow! i didn’t know you were capable of showing gratitude, sweetheart.” he retorts. making you roll your eyes, once again.
you try really hard not to start conversation during the drive. but of course he has something to say. “are you doing anything later?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. you hate to admit it but he looks awfully hot driving with one hand on the wheel and smoking out the window with the other one.
why he wants to know your comings and goings is above you. “why?” you simply ask. “jesus christ, can’t i just be nice? i don’t want to know, i could care less.” he’s aggravating. “you couldn’t care less, dumbass. if you could care less it means you care.” he sighs loudly. deciding to shut up for the rest of the ride. after he parks in front of your apartment, you get out without a word and thank him under your breath half-heartedly, not really wanting to hear him go on about how surprised he is you can say that word.
to think he’d leave you be is wishing for too much. “you’re welcome! i’ll pick you up before work too. unless your car is ready?” you furrow your eyebrows momentarily. the car wouldn’t be ready for at least three days. and sometimes he does have the ability to shut up. “8 sharp, march.” you simply tell him. turning on your heal and heading for your door.
“ungrateful little shit.” he says to himself. three whole days of this. he can manage, he thinks.
he can’t help but wonder when this whole ‘hating each other’ thing would end. but honestly, he didn’t mind. not to be self-deprecating but he was used to people calling him stupid. hell, even his own daughter did. but whenever he heard you groan or saw you roll your eyes, he really couldn’t help his imagination running wild.
wondering if you made those same looks and those same sounds in bed. you were healy’s niece for godsakes. but that didn’t matter when he found himself stroking his dick while showering, thinking about how mean you are to him. thinking about how you say ‘jesus christ, march.’ in a low, disappointed, tone. thinking about having you on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, telling him exactly what to do. and when he pictures you slapping him when he doesn’t do what you ask of him, he comes, with a high-pitched groan, covering his mouth with his left hand, to keep from fucking screaming.
that’s new. he thinks. up until now, he didn’t see himself getting off to a mean, ungrateful, and fucking hot bitch.
and of course, march isn’t there at 8. you don’t know what you expected. but because of this dumb fuck, now you’ll be forced to walk a few miles to the nearest bus stop. as you begin walking, already sweating two minutes in, you hear someone honk behind you. you know it’s him. even his car is obnoxious for crying out loud. “you couldn’t wait two fuckin’ minutes?” he asks, slowing down right besides you. you shot him a look. “get in. you’re already sweating, jesus christ.” he tells you, turning the AC to the max. “fuck you.” you snarl. getting into his car. you’re not sure if you heard him right, but you think he mutters ‘gladly’, although the AC on full blast made it impossible to tell.
now, to say you hated march is exaggerating. although evidence shows otherwise. you didn’t hate him. you were just…aggravated by his presence. ever since you began working there, his childish and unprofessional attitude made you form a bad impression on him, only worsening with time. but you couldn’t really deny how funny it was to push his buttons. he’d get all red in the face and you could tell he wanted to scream at you, restraining himself only because he knew healy would take your side on any and all arguments.
you notice he’s weirdly quiet today. by now, you were sure he’d tell you how he burnt his breakfast or how badly he slept. and not that you really mind the silence, but it was not a comfortable one. you turn to look at him. making note of how quickly he diverted his gaze when you made eye contact. opting to light up what would be the fourth cigarette of the day. at 8 a.m., mind you.
what you didn’t know was that he was completely embarrassed by his little…fun time yesterday. he couldn’t really look at you and not remember the mental image he concocted yesterday. and the fact that every time he thought of that his pants tightened a bit, which he didn’t want you noticing.
against all odds, you speak to him. “somethin’ on your mind?” you ask him, looking out the window. he clears his throat. grateful of how you’re not holding eye contact anymore because he was sure the tent in his pants was beginning to grow against his will. “yeah, uh, just this case we’re working on. it’s very hard— the case, it’s very hard.” he takes a drag of his cig. you hum. didn’t your uncle say you didn’t have any open cases? “healy told you you weren’t working on anything at the moment.” you think out loud.
shit. he didn’t know you knew. “well, it’s not an open— open case, per se. it’s like, this case that was really hard to figure out.” he quickly says. trying to come up with whatever gets him out of this situation. out of all days you could’ve chosen to talk to him, you had to pick today. he eyes you, sees the way you’re thinking about the stupid thing he just said. “okay, then.” you say.
so, he’s lying. obviously. you wonder if it’s got anything to do with healy. maybe he was working on a case by himself. boy, would that be a mistake. you know he used to work alone before, although you weren’t sure if his stories you heard him tell healy were true. he’d paint himself this sherlock holmes type, although the time you’ve known him, he’s done nothing but drink himself to sleep.
the day goes by rather quickly. you busy yourself all day with color-coding the files. once again wondering what march is hiding, given that there are absolutely no open cases. just like healy said.
not that you expect march to tell you he’s driving you home again, but you kind of do.
he’s drinking. surprise, surprise. and although he insists he can drive you, you aren’t willing to risk your life over a middle-aged man drunk driving. “fuck off, you shouldn’t leave, either.” you tell him. “it’s like you don’t even know me, doll. i’ve been doing this since my prime. and i only had one glass of scotch, big deal.” he shrugs. “oh, only one glass of 40% alcohol? that makes me feel so much better. you’re not driving. i’m leaving.” you tell him. quickly grabbing your things and heading for the door. but you stop yourself. “if i leave you’re still going to drive?” you turn to him with an exhasperated sigh.
he shrugs again. “yeah, probably.” unbelievable. he has a whole ass daughter, doesn’t he care? “do you have a death wish, march?” his face contorts in what can only be a smile. you’re confused. “awh, are you worried about me, sweetheart?” his head tilts to the side. full-on grinning. you roll your eyes again. “yeah, keep doing that, see what happens.” he mutters. what the fuck?
“is that a threat or are you hitting on me?” you ask. standing in your place, astounded by his audacity. “i’m not going to answer that.” he says, heading back to his office. you’re actually too dumbfounded to move. “i’m leaving.” you say, more to yourself than him. fuck it if he dies behind the wheel. that’s his business.
but you don’t move. you slowly realize it’s way past the last bus. shit. it’s either walk all the way home, or wait until march sobers up. you were less inclined to walk forty minutes than to stay behind with march, much to your dismay.
you sit down at your desk again. soon after, march shows. “i thought you were leavin’, you are worried, huh?” he says, sipping on another glass of scotch.
truth be told, march did not care a single bit about driving home. holly has been spending all her time locked in her room. and he doesn’t like the reminder that he’s by himself once he gets home. and it’s probably the two glasses of scotch talking, but he can’t seem to care about hiding his intentions from you. and the fact that you stayed behind, only encourages him.
“there aren’t any buses anymore, genius. maybe i’ll take a cab, i don’t know.” you tell him. he places his drink on your desk. “i think you’re worried. i think you don’t want me to die.” he grins.
“and that makes it special? march, you have a daughter. i can’t believe you don’t care.” you tell him. “she’s used to her old man getting home drunk, and she probably hasn’t noticed i’m not there yet, i’m not in a rush. i could take you home, though.” you shake your head. “you’re unbelievable.” you mutter. “why do you hate me so much?” he blurts out. you furrow your eyebrows. a moment passes.
“s just that, i don’t know, you’re very mean to me.” he all but pouts. chugging down the last of his drink. “don’t get me wrong, i like it, but i didn’t know i liked it, til’ you showed up, that is.” he continues. at this point you’re too amused by his babbling to interrupt. “you’re here every day, with your cool clothes and your cool jewelry— where do you get that, anyways?— and you’re nice to healy but you’re mean to me, i get he’s your uncle but i don’t think i’m too bad myself, am i?” he swallows. “say something.” he says.
you laugh to yourself. he doesn’t even sound drunk. this is just his normal self talking. “have a drink with me.” you try to say no, but he’s running to his office to get the bottle and another glass. he comes back, serving himself another drink and serving you one, too. “cheers.” he clinks your glass, which is still at your desk, and chugs all of it.
you hesitate, but he looks awfully vulnerable and you’re afraid he’s going to insist, and also the scotch does look good. you grab it and take a small sip, without looking at him because you’re sure the grin is back on his face. he eyes you up and down while you drink. feeling surprised by how fuzzy you feel, only half a drink in.
“are you just going to watch me drink?” you ask him. “beats drinking alone.” he says. “‘m sorry to have sprung all of that on you.” he clears his throat. “i’m just a bit confused as to why you seem to have a problem with me.” he lowers his gaze. “march, i don’t have a problem with you. and didn’t you just say you liked that i was mean to you?” you try, not really letting him off the hook so easily for what he admitted.
“yeah, i do.” he mutters. “kinda turns me on, your whole goth demeanor.” he can’t seem to shut the hell up. and it’s not like he can attribute it to the drinks. he’s not even tickled by the alcohol. you laugh. and he can’t seem to tear his eyes from you. “are you laughing at me?” he asks, laughing now, too. “yes!” you tell him, making him scoff like he’s offended.
you chug the rest of the drink and pour yourself a second. hell, if you’re not leaving might as well get drunk.
“are you, really?” you turn to ask him, he’s still hovering over your desk, daring to get closer, he sits on it. honestly, he was a little bit afraid of you until he heard you laugh. now the whole mean thing just seems like a ruse to him. “am i really what?” he turns to see you. “turned on? that whole me being mean thing?” now it’s your turn to eye him up and down. and you can’t really blame the alcohol for the warm sensation forming in lower stomach. he smells of alcohol and smoke, he’s such a guy.
“well, obviously. whatever little show you’re doing, it’s working.” you’re confused. “show? no. you’re just an incompetent detective. i can’t deal with incompetence.” you tell him. “hard as it is to believe, i can be competent. when i really, really want.” he says.
“oh yeah? and when do you really, really want to? so far i’ve never seen you work.” he shakes his head with a smile. “like when i can figure out you’re turned on right now. your cheeks are all red and you keep squeezin’ your thighs.” he catches you by surprise. you hadn’t even realized you were doing that. you try to come up with something to say, but words don’t come to mind. “yeah, case closed.” he retorts. serving himself yet another drink.
“where’d you come up with that, march? can’t i just enjoy conversation?” you try to say, although it comes out a bit more shaky than you want. “with me? no dice, doll. you don’t speak to me unless it’s to insult me. i don’t mind.” he shrugs.
holland can’t really tell where his confidence is coming from. maybe it’s knowing you’re both a bit drunk and alone. maybe the scale simply tipped over and he can’t really hold it in anymore. or, you know, maybe he’s just as turned on as you are.
you sip the last bit of your drink, a small droplet sitting on your lips. he tentatively runs his thumb along your lower lip. and when you don’t object, he smiles to himself.
honestly, you could’ve pictured this night going any way, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the way his hand slides from your lip to your arm, yanking it to make you stand up. and when you do, he wastes no time attaching his lips to yours. you suppress the small gasp of surprise coming out of you. not wanting to give him the satisfaction. you’re quick to kiss him back. placing a hand on his thigh, squeezing slightly when he slips his tongue in your mouth.
he moans. and what a pretty moan he has. your head becomes flooded with wanting to hear more of that. he puts his hand that was previously on your arm on top of yours, moving it towards his crotch. you hum into his mouth when you feel just how hard he already is.
to say this is surprising is an understatement. never in a million years would you have thought you’d be rubbing holland march’s dick through his clothes on your desk. it’s a nice surprise, honestly. it’s not like you can overlook how attractive he always looks in his tight pants and his overgrown mustache.
“you’re so fucking hot.” he thinks out loud. briefly stopping your full-on make out to attach his lips to your neck. you involuntarily let out a whimper, feeling him smile against your neck. “don’t be so smug.” you tell him. he stops what he’s doing to look at you. “you’re letting me do this and i can’t be smug?” he asks. placing a hand on your neck. suppressing the grin that fights to form in his face when you briefly close your eyes at the feeling. he lightly squeezes and you press harder on his dick. yeah, he can be smug, he thinks.
“sit down on the desk, sweetheart.” he tells you while standing up. without really thinking about it, you obey. sloppily taking your pants off. fuck it if he thinks that’s too forward. he sets between your legs. his hand returns to your neck, lightly squeezing, while his other hand grabs ahold of your thigh. you subconsciously make space for him, opening your legs, in response, he puts his middle and ring finger on your underwear. looking at you intently, as if asking for permission.
you take a play off his book and grab that hand to place it on your clit, making small circles with it. “kiss me.” you tell him. he obeys immediately. it’s like a back and forth of dominance.
he puts your underwear to the side, running his fingers down your core. he wants you to ask for it. beg, even. that’s just not happening. he doesn’t have the upper hand. you could just get up and leave. but damn it if it doesn’t feel too fucking good.
“what’re you waiting for, march?” you break the kiss to ask him. in turn, he slides his middle finger in you. you try not to squeeze him in to no avail, and he bites his lip, turning towards the obscene scene in front of him. “if you can’t take a single finger how are you gonna take my dick, sweetheart?” it’s quite weird to you to hear him dirty talk. but the need to shut him up, to erase that stupid grin on his face is only making you wetter.
“bet i’ve taken bigger than you.” you try to provoke him, only to have him laugh in response when he slides another finger in and you gasp.
you don’t think you could do anything but moan and gasp when he gets you right on edge, only to entirely stop his movements. fingers still deep inside you. “why’d you stop me?” he asks you, you notice how black his eyes look right now. any and all color gone. only to be replaced by pure lust.
“take— take your clothes off.” you tell him, one hand tugging at his shirt. he stops all movement and wipes his hand on his pants. he unties his tie and unbuttons his shirt, not bothering to take it completely off.
he begins to unbuckle his belt, but you stop him. he turns to you with a panicked look, only to realize you want to do that part. you take his belt off and slide his pants down to his thighs, unable to tear your eyes off the prominent tent in his boxers. oh, he’s big. you weren’t expecting that when you said you’ve taken bigger. that’s why he laughed.
in turn, you also take your clothes off, feeling very smug when you feel his eyes linger on your chest. he’s quick to kiss down your neck, until he’s sucking on one of your nipples. you arch your back towards him, and he places one hand on your waist, slowly laying you down until he’s practically on top of you.
he takes his hand off your waist momentarily to free himself. feeling relief once his hard dick is out. without warning, he’s sliding those two same fingers in your pussy, moving them back and forth and gathering your slick and rubbing your clit once more. you tear him from your nipple and kiss him again, this time licking into his mouth.
you’re on the brink again, equal parts not wanting him to stop and wanting him to just finally put his dick on you. your hips involuntarily lift from the desk when you feel your orgasm reach, moaning into his mouth, only making him smile in return. “yeah?” he asks, oh he thinks he’s so funny. you want to nod, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.
you reach down and grab his dick, aligning it with your entrance. a silent plea, so to speak. “you want me to fuck you?” he pants. you don’t react. not uttering a single word or nodding. but he sees the goosebumps cursing through your arms and legs. he is a detective, after all. “say it.” he whispers. you won’t budge, no matter how much you’re squirming. “please?” he pecks your lips. “hm, sweetheart? can you say it?” another peck.
you shake your head. “c’mon, darlin’ i know you want to. you want me to fuck you, right?” it’s more of a plead than a rethorical question. you groan. this is taking far too long and you’re too far gone to keep your pride. “yes, holland. fuck me.” you quickly tell him, almost coming from the whimper that comes out of him. his first name on your lips intoxicating him.
“yeah, doll— i’ll fuck you. you want me to, right?” what is it with this man and his questions? he slides in, finally. moaning loudly and dropping his head to your shoulder from the feeling. “oh my fucking god, you’re so— jesus you’re so tight, hmm fuck.” he blabs. your hands slide to his hair. petting it as a silent thank you, for finally having him where you wanted to the most.
he’s big. the stretch burned momentarily. he stays in place. only moving once he knows he won’t cum right then and there. he starts with small thrusts, not daring to pull out. “christ, you feel good, hm?” he pants. in turn you tug on his hair to kiss him again, otherwise you’re sure he’s just going to keep talking.
one of your hands travels down to your clit, rubbing circles on it to enhance the feeling, only to be slapped away by him, replacing your hand with his.
you moan into his mouth, and he can’t help but to be just a little disappointed you weren’t as mean as you were all the time. he still thought about his little fantasy of yesterday, where you slap him. he stops kissing you, only to whisper into your mouth. “can you— can you slap me?” he asks. had he not been balls deep inside you, you would’ve laughed. but since he was making you feel so good, you obliged.
a quick, almost painless slap. he didn’t even feel it. “c’mon, didn’t you hate me like, yesterday?” he pants. still keeping his thrusts short, but deep. you hit him again, and it made your hand hurt. you’re afraid it might’ve been too much until you hear him groan and pull all the way back only to thrust back with more force than he had before.
"you like a little pain, march? didn't peg you for a masochist." you try to tell him without your voice shaking, made impossible by his deep thrusts. "i think you put a fuckin' spell on me, doll.” he pants. his hand returns to your neck, squeezing a bit more than he had before. relishing in the way your eyes roll back and you squeeze his dick. his rythmic thrusts become sloppy, signaling how close he is. but he doesn't want to come just yet. he wants to savour the feeling, in case you don't let him do this again.
he turns to kiss you once more, feeling smug again of the way you can barely kiss him back. he takes the opportunity to bite your lower lip, hard. tugging it and licking it afterwards as an apology.
"you like that huh?" you nod. letting go of any restraint you still had left. seeing how he reacted when you slapped him, you tentatively bite his shoulder. and really bite. "fuck- oh christ." he arches his back towards you. he ruts against you. you feel him so deep, it's all you can think about.
your face scrunches up, feeling your second orgasm incoming. you moan loudly, and in turn he whimpers again. “not so tough now, huh? fucked the mean out you, didn’t i?” he asks. and when you come, so does he. unable to keep his mouth shut about how good you feel. “i’m gonna— fuck, oh my god— sweetheart, you’re—“ he moans.
catching your breath, you feel him going limp inside of you. his whole body on top of you, catching his breath, too. only bothering to move once your breathing has regulated.
he tucks himself into his pants and buttons his shirt again. giving you your clothes back and sitting besides you. as you’re dressing up, you can feel the stickiness of his cum between your legs. oh well, that’s a problem for future you. he gives you a shy smile. almost as if he didn’t just fuck the shit out of you.
“am i allowed to be smug now?” he asks, and in turn you roll your eyes. “don’t get so used to this, march.” you tell him, noticing how his whole face drops. oh, you didn’t mean not get used to…you know, fucking. “although i do have some notes for next time.” you’re quick to say.
his whole face brightens again. “oh yeah?” he laughs. “i’ll have to hear all about it. c’mon, let me take you home. i’ve definetely sobered up now.” you sigh, only giving him a little nod and gathering your things.
he hopes to god healy never finds out. he doesn’t think he can take another beating from him. that’s a problem for another time, he thinks.
Nadia Perkins is a post punk woman with a different mindset compared to a lot of other women from the 70s. Shes a photographer, detective, and journalist that's supposed to be helping Healy with every other job or case he gets. Healy only hired her because he knew he couldn't do shit by himself with Holland, they needed a third that can think differently and also collect evidence and info properly.
A usual outfit she would have would be a black leather or denim jacket, a few bracelets, dark worn out skinny jeans, paired with a big black belt, black platform boots (or regular ones), and of course an ankha necklace.
Her short dark hair is almost always really messy looking, and she'll usually have exotic goth eyeliner. Also she has a scar underneath her eye.
She does private jobs mostly when it comes to photography, and she actually used to do photography for Amelia before she went missing. She never remembers names but shes great with remembering faces, even faces she's only ever seen once.
Her journals are full of a lot of stuff. Her life, her experiences with certain people, certain cases, certain jobs, all that jazz. She writes down anything she thinks is important that she witnesses. Even when shes hiding from a killer, she'll be writing about it.
She is in love with music like Depeche mode, Joy Division, Siousxie and the banshees, the cure, and more. If she hears it playing in a public place, she would feel so fucking lucky for once. She can also appreciate other kinds of music, but she will always choose that kind of music as her forever loves.
Holly thinks shes like so fucking cool cuz of her style, Nadia is always happy and flattered to see how much Holly admires her even though she low-key hates her dad lmao. Holly will be like "Dad I wanna dress like Nadia!" and Holland would be like "No you don't. Shut up."
She isn't much of a people pleaser, she actually hates the idea of people pleasing even if its for money. Her only job is to show the truth once she finds it.
She isn't a fan of drinking, but shes definitely one to enjoy doing some za! If she sees free weed, you bet your ass shes taking all of it home with her.
Nadia doesn't do relationships, not unless she knows for a fact it could work. She would need at least over a month in order to really commit, and if you cant make it work with her she will end up hating your guts. In reality, she just cares you'll fucking show up.
Holland annoys the fuck out of her more than Healy does, which is funny considering Healy is usually more grouchy then Holland ever is. Holland is handsome sure but he cant even go a full minute without getting into some kind of physical fight with someone he shouldn't even try with.
Her past is...not great. She's dealt with an unfortunate amount of step moms, fights in high school middle school and kindergarten, always did something fucked up through her teen years, dated way too many dumb guys to count, and now shes a certified detective that prefers to work locally rather than with a huge unit. Only that way she can do whatever she wants however she wants.
dawg I LLLOVVVEEEE trade goth ocs, and since the nice guys is a movie based in the 70s yoU KNOW I had to make this oc have that style. anyways, please show me your own ocs for rygos movies or whatever I love seeing peoples ocs yumyumyum
Harley is a delivery girl and a painter in the daytime, but at night she deals drugs to get paid more. She's also partially deaf, and only wears it sometimes when shes driving her bike or talking to Irene and Benny. Regardless, she doesn't talk much unless she's talking business or calling someone out on their shit. That's one of the only things she has in common with Driver, even though they hate each other to their core.
Her usual outfit would be a black motorcycle jacket with a dark red spider design on the back, a dark red skirt, dark leggings, and black motorcycle boots. Most of the time she also has her short hair up in a small ponytail, and her motorcycle helmet is black with cat ears on top of it.
She has a couple of scars near her chin and chest, from past fights she's been in before that almost risked her life, shes always been into taking risks if it meant being able to live and survive.
Her motorcycle is probably her greatest possession. Anyone who comes near it would instantly get shanked if need be. If you just ask to look at it, she'll be polite enough to say yes, but if you ask to touch it its always a no unless she knows you well enough.
Irene is her coworker at the restaurant, and she sometimes babysits Benny for her when she knows that Irene is working and Harley isn't. If Irene needed any help, Harley could be called. If not Harley, it was Driver, and Harley hated that.
Harley mostly hates Driver for the fact that he's always getting in her way with customers buying her stuff and stealing Irene from her, but eventually it became clear they also had some tension that was never resolved due to both of their communication problems.
Her real name isn't Harley, but she wouldn't ever say it out loud to anyone even if she was paid a million dollars. She doesn't talk to any family members because of this too, she's rather eat a plate of roaches than do that.
She knows a lot of American sign language, and she even started to teach Irene and Benny some of it. If she was babysitting Benny, she'd do a lesson or two on some signs for him. During break at work she'd show Irene those same signs, Irene would learn them more slowly due to having a busy schedule, but she's able to learn the important signs quick enough.
If she's being pulled over a cop, she'll always use the excuse that she forgot her hearing aid so that she doesn't get a ticket or anything. >;)
PLAYLIST!
EEK this is prolly one of my favs btw, I really really really like driver haha, before you ask yes I named her after the motorcycle brand ik ik I'm so original and awesome
Dallas Wrath is Grace's assistant teacher, she knew Grace from college, and they've always had some kind of hate for each other.
Her usual outfit would be her black star patterned cardigan, a regular gray shirt underneath, brown work shorts, black loose socks, and dark grey Vans shoes. She would also pair it with a black necklace too.
Another outfit she may wear would be a tank top with some graphic design of Orca whales on it, purple plaid shorts, tights, and a pair of black boots (platforms if she feels like it)
She also has visible burn marks over her eye, chin, neck, chest, and shoulder from an accident she had in middle school. Sometimes she'll draw on part of her eyebrow that's unable to grow back due to the burn marks. She prefers to keep her hair down in the same short jellyfish bob, where she also has parts of it dyed black, which it mostly looks natural thankfully!
She's got a couple of tattoos as well, but she keeps them hidden with her choice of clothing and if needed she'll use makeup or a skin colored undershirt.
Her favorite sea creature is Orca whales, also known as killer whales. If you ask her about them (or anything marine biology related) she could go on and on with fun facts and lectures about certain sea creatures. Dallas knows way more about marine biology than Ryland ever could >:)
She likes to read, a lot, its her favorite pastime hobby. During break time, she doesn't go to the teachers lounge, instead she hides somewhere to be able to read her book in peace. Ryland is always questioning where she goes during break, but she cant be going around exposing her hiding spot and letting him disturb her peace!
In college, Dallas was in a band called "Firestarters" where her and her band made punk rock music. If you were to look up her band name on YouTube, you'd find videos of her with a much shorter haircut screaming vulgar lyrics on a stage, and occasionally a video of her also stage diving and dancing in a mosh pit. Ryland occasionally makes fun of her for it.
She has a disability that involves chronic body pain and leg problems, so she uses a cane most of the time to get around successfully. Usually, shes able to manage pretty well when getting to work, but there's still some complications at times. Once or twice a month it can get to a point where she has to call out of work, but thankfully they're very accommodating and let her take those times off since shes just Grace's assistant.
Dallas hates the smell of sand or the beach, it makes her feel nauseous. Unfortunately, she can smell it in almost every teacher's room in the school due to the all the febreeze plug ins they all use, except Ryland thankfully. If Ryland started using them with that specific beach scent, she'd probably end up killing him.
During class, there's a specific student that also has burn marks and gets teased and bullied for it, Wrath always steps in and tells them back off so obviously this student trusts Wrath a lot, and Wrath always feels glad that there's a student really trusts her because of the common things they have with each other. <3
Shipped with: Lars Lindstrom (Lars and the real girl)
Eve is a pagan witch with a love for baking, cats, and talking peoples ears off! shes the owner of a bakery called Beloved Bakes, its been owned by her family for generations!
Her usual outfit would be a sweater with a cute design on it (like stars, a floral pattern, or maybe even cute cats!) an earthy toned long skirt, regular dirty brown boots with maybe some colorful socks, paired with some jewelry like crystal necklaces and rings, either made with DIY or bought from a friend. Her favorite crystals are amethysts, peridot, and rose quartz! she would also usually have her mid length hair in a tiny ponytail with a couple of braids made near her ears.
Occasionally, her outfit would instead be a tank top, a comfy brown cardigan, a plaid skirt (or with a pretty pattern!), colorful tights, leg warmers over her same brown boots (she loovess her brown boots <3) but she would still pair it with her fav crystal jewelry and fun colorful makeup!
She regularly goes to church out of respect for Lar's religion, but Lars will also listen to her yap about fun facts on pagan witchcraft.
She loves to bake pies and other good treats, and she especially loves to try new fruits to mix together and create cute decor designs for her pies and baked goods.
Every day she wears fun and exotic makeup when she goes out. She loves doing colorful looks with stars, swirls, hearts, rainbows, or even drawing random bugs on her face! she almost never finds a reason to use neutral colors with her makeup!
99% of the time, she's always talking about something. whether she wants to yap about her day, or about her mother, or some funny thing she heard from a customer, shes always got something to say! the only time you'd find her not talking as much is if shes having a bad day, but eventually she can be cheered up and she'll go right back to her usual yappy self :)
She has a sister named Lilith, who isnt always the nicest, but Eve really cares about Lilith nonetheless. Lilith will sometimes help Eve around in the bakery when she isnt busy, but sometimes it feels hard for Eve to manage the bakery by herself and often Lilith will come up with some excuse to not come and help but unfortunately Eve isnt great at confrontation :/
Her mother does help her out more often though when shes not sick. considering how old her mother is, shes usually down with some kind of sickness. Sometimes its the flu, sometimes its a mild cold, a stomach bug, a fever, its very common. Thankfully she will usually get better whenever Eve or Lilith take care of her!
Eve has a similar problem to Lars when it comes to physical touch, except it also involves her overall health sometimes. Sometimes, she'll wake up with so much pain in her arms that she cant even lift a small plate. It gets difficult to move properly, but she gets through it the best she can!
Summary: youre an assistant teacher for Dr. Ryland Grace, and youre not too fond of each other considering you went to college together. he always thought of you as a tacky punk rebel who didnt care about school, and you always thought of him as a smartass brainiac nerd who cared too much about school. even today, you still have your quips and bickers but try to keep it down low since youre now coworkers. he always going to be difficult with you, and youre always going to be questioning everything he does. why? not even you know. unfortunately, you happened to run into him at a public place when you were just hoping to have a good time for once....thankfully, you still do
the ideal OC's appearance: short brown hair with black dyed parts that looked more natural, burn marks over the eyebrow, eye, neck, and shoulder, wearing a star patterned cardigan with brown shorts and vans shoes at first, then changing into a gray graphic design tank top with purple plaid shorts, ripped tights and platform boots, name is Dallas
pairing(s): ryland Grace x reader, simon x colt seavers, simon x reader, and yes ryland and colt are related in this (also featuring Nancy Wheeler and Mike Schmidt)
level of smuttiness: 5/5, they fuck in a risky place oo la la (OBVIOUSLY MDNI, MINORS GO THE OTHER WAY PLEASE)
4.4k words
In the afternoon, you're still stuck at work with Dr. Ryland Grace, teaching certain lessons in science for your class. He may have a lot of knowledge in space and astronomy, but you have more knowledge in marine biology than him and sometimes it shows.
At some point, while Grace is at the teachers' lounge during break, you hide yourself in the janitor's closet to read your book. Grace is never able to find you until you finish your chapter and head back to the lounge.
"There you are! Where the hell do you end up during break anyway?" Grace said with a somewhat annoyed yet curious face.
"Wouldn't you like to know weather boy?" You said smugly, knowing that it would peeve him if you kept him from knowing.
His face went from partially annoyed to fully annoyed, as you expected, with a slight grin plastered on your face
After a split second of silence, he rolled his eyes and walked out while sipping his coffee a bit more.
DING! You got a text from your friend Simon
Simon: we still on for tonight? Got word from Nancy and Mike too; they said they'ree gonna join us!!
You: yeh I'm still down, just gotta get through my last class period with Dr Whoopdeedoo and I'll get there around maybe 6 pm
As soon as you got home, you hopped in the shower and started getting ready for the party tonight at the bar. While picking out your outfit, Simon texted you again telling you that Colt was coming as well.
You: Colt? Ryland's brother Colt???
Simon: yeeaahh? Is that bad? Thought Colt was the one who was nice to you
You: yeah he was, actually im kinda glad cuz he's obviously better than his smartass of a brother, plus you 2 have good chemistryyyyy
Simon: I work as a researcher of foreign creatures, and he's a stunt double; no, we do not, girl.
In the middle of putting on your makeup, you laughed at Simon's text response.
You showed up to the bar on your motorbike at around 6:30-ish, you set your helmet in the seat compartment, locking it with your keys. As soon as you stepped inside, a whoosh of the AC breezed past you, which is good considering how hot it is out today.
Simon saw you come in and called you over, where Nancy and Mike were sitting with him as well. You saw his beefy figure wave at you to come over as you spotted him and smiled a bit, walking over and sitting down next to him with Nancy and Mike greeting you with a warm smile.
Nancy started ranting about the drama going on between her and her coworkers at the reporting establishment. Something about her coworker being crappy to her assistant, blah blah blah, the same stuff you've already heard from her, but you still find it funny and laugh a few times.
Simon turns to you and smiles, his grin was very masculine and subtle. He strikes up a conversation as a recap. "So Colt is on the way right now..."
You hummed in response and elbowed him as a sign. "So you gonna stop being a wusspuss and finally ask him out?" Simon laughed at your suggestion and shook his head while sipping his drink.
"Hell no, he's most likely not even into guys like me anyway. Plus, he's still dealing with his heartbreak after splitting up with Jodie"
You groaned at Simon in slight annoyance, since you've already heard that one before. "That was over 3 months ago, I'm sure he's over her by now! I'm tired of you acting like you don't-" the bartender gives you a pink drink, looks like a Bloody Mary. "Oh, thank you!"
Simon speaks up. "I already ordered you your drink before you got here... you're welcome." He says with a wink as you blush a bit. He's always been a sweetheart, even behind that beefy, muscly figure he's got that looks like he could break your knuckles and wrist with a single handshake. Sometimes you'd find yourself blushing by just hearing his deep low voice.
You happily took a sip of your drink while Simon continued the conversations he had with Nancy and Mike, keeping his hand right next to yours. You blushed a bit harder and stared at his hand as it was inching to hold your own. You stared at his face a bit, keeping note of his mouth mutation and extra sharp teeth, as well as his scars on his eye, the way part of his mouth moved only slightly as he laughed.
You were only staring at him for what felt like a minute before he looked over at you with curious eyes, to which you immediately looked away and sipped your drink again while your face was even redder. He took notice of that, staring at you back a bit more, glancing at your patterned burn marks on your neck, face, and shoulder, how your hazel eyes appeared more saturated in color as they hit the light, the way your short hair hung perfectly near your ears, which were pierced with a bunch of jewelry.
You noticed him staring back at you and laughed a bit. "Stop staring at me ya freak." You teased him with the same playful banter you guys have had since college.
"You were staring first, I know you're not exactly down to earth or whatever, but you did NOT seem focused," Simon responded with the same level of teasing tone as you. You laughed at him and gave a slightly snarky clapback.
"Says the guy with the attention span of a walrus!" You laughed as Simon elbowed you because of your insult and laughed along with you. "Shut up!"
Just as Simon was about to sip his drink, Colt appeared behind him with his rough hands on Simon's shoulder, giving him a slight spook from his sudden arrival. "Did you already order without me?!" Colt asked while feigning an insulted tone. Simon scoffed, "Yeah cuz you were taking too long to get here, so obviously I got drinks for me and the enby." He said while tilting his head towards you.
Colt looked over at you with a polite smile. "Sup Dallas? Is Simon here giving you a hard time?" He said as Simon scoffed in offense
You grinned a bit and rolled your eyes. "Surprisingly, not today."
Colt snickered along and looked back at Simon. "Wanna go play some pool?" Simon smiled and nodded in agreement, looking back at you, waiting for your approval or for you to join in.
You shook your head with a smile back. "Go ahead, I'll stay here; my legs feel like jelly after today anyway." In response, Simon smiled and nodded as he stood up to go play the ballards with Colt and Mike. You noticed Colt and Simon almost holding hands, grinning at the confirmed prediction of their chemistry.
Ryland came into the bar moments later, scanning the place for any sign of Colt, or you. He walked in through the crowd towards the bar, before seeing you sitting down with a drink in your hand. In his eyes, you looked... really different, but in a really good way. He's only ever seen you in a simple outfit with a cardigan, brown shorts, and Vans shoes. Right now, you seemed more natural to your style.
Ryland stared at you for what felt like hours to him, captivated by your less professional look and almost feeling his face get hot. It only took half a minute before you looked up to notice him standing there staring at you.
(In this scene I would imagine him wearing his usual grey blazer with the sleeves rolled up midway but paired with a graphic band tee, some worn out jeans and his usual white converse. If you'd rather imagine Grace wearing something else please do so lol)
"Crap. He's actually here?! What the fuck?!" You thought to yourself, your face turning a shade of pink. "I thought it was just Colt here, and he brought his stupid fucking brother, who he KNOWS that I work with, and I still hate?! That fucking idiot, and yet Ryland is... why is he staring at me like that?"
Ryland decided to finally do something and came over to sit down next to you. You could've gotten up to sit down somewhere else or to go and join Simon and Colt at the pool table, but you didn't. You let him sit next to you, but you looked away to hide your blushing face and drank another sip of your Bloody Mary before he said something.
"You here with Simon, I assume?" He asked casually, almost trying to seem nonchalant. You looked back at him with a polite yet almost fake grin. "No, I'm here with the pope himself." You answered with clear sarcasm laced in your voice.
He faked a laugh in response. "Right, of course you'd still give me attitude while we're not at work right now." You rolled your eyes in response and held your face up with your hand on the table.
"Didn't think you'd be here with Colt, though." You said with a slighty snarky tone, but instead of Ryland being offended, he just laughed. He looked at your outfit again, almost like he was checking you out. You took notice of it and looked at him with annoyance visible in your expression.
"What? Your first time seeing an adult dress however the hell they want to in public?" You teased, expecting him to get annoyed or even flustered. Instead, he just shrugged. "No, but you do look good."
You almost choked on your drink and blushed quite a bit, your eyes twitched at what he just said. "What the fuck did you just say to me?" You thought he was trying to make fun of you or something.
"I said, you look good. I never see you wearing an outfit this hardcore, but you look really nice in it. If I didn't mean that, I wouldn't be saying it right now, so don't get your panties in a twist just cuz I'm complimenting you." He said that so casually as if he was a totally different person, even though he's literally a middle school teacher. Not only that, he was your coworker who has hated you since college. Funny enough, it was still Ryland there.
You sat there quietly for a second, processing what just came out of his mouth. His stupid fucking mouth that still never shuts up even during a moment where he should be saying nothing, yet he still chooses to talk and say stupid stuff. Finally, you gave a reaction and scoffed and stood up to go to the restroom. Ryland stands up too and follows behind you.
When you reach the empty hallway where the unisex bathrooms were, he calls out to you. You turn around lazily, only to be somewhat polite enough to hear what he has to say. He stands right in front of you with a serious expression you can't quite read.
"Look, I know we hate each other quite a bit, but can't you at least pretend to be nice to me like we always do at work? We kinda need to anyway." He asked of you, but you shook your head with slight disdain in your voice
"We're not at school Ryland, we're at a friggin bar with other adults around us. I don't have to be nice to you at all right now, especially since I don't even want to."
Something about the way you said his name caught him off guard a bit; he gives you a certain look. "Okay, then what do you want to do?" He asked with a kind of curiosity that didn't feel very hateful to you now. You held your head back in surprise at the question.
"What? W-what do you mean?" You shook your head while asking that, almost as if it would help you to process that question he asked.
He didn't even change his face much while repeating the question. "Considering how much you pretend to be nice when we're at school, and you're pretending anymore right now, I assume you want to also do something else. I don't know maybe you wanna punch me in the face, scream at me, call me names, so just do it, okay?"
You just stared at him like he was an actual brainless idiot, and honestly hearing him say this made you believe he was a brainless idiot... but maybe he's right? Maybe you do have other intentions, but at the same time you both knew what those intentions could be. You've wanted to be able to scream at him, call him names, maybe even punch him ever since you first met him. Yet for some odd reason, you also didn't want to right now.
Plus with how close you two were, it wasn't exactly helping your cases right now. You felt the air get warmer and warmer as you stayed silent in order to really think. How did you actually feel about Ryland Grace? He raised an eyebrow as he noticed your face get red while you stood in silence.
You noticed his face shift while his eyes stayed on you, you wanted to punch him in his stupid face, his dumb stupid yet handsome face. Instead you threw yourself into him to have your lips meet suddenly, letting your hands feel his upper chest to his shoulders, while his hands immediately move to grab your waist.
You just let yourself go completely insane as you kept your lips onto his, not even really grasping the idea that this is probably not a good idea since you were coworkers that taught the same class. Not only that, you're coworkers who have hated each other since day 1.
You pulled away from the kiss as you realized what you were doing, attempting to step away before he suddenly pulled you closer to kiss you more, except this time you didnt even try to pull away again. You gave in, letting him grip your hips with possession, feeling one of his hands roam up your shirt and the other one grip onto the waistband of your shorts.
With one short move, he pulled you into one of the bathrooms, locking the door behind him, before pinning to the wall to continue kissing your lips, this time with his hands feeling you up more intensely. He started to even lift your shirt up to attempt to reveal your lace bra.
As you noticed his intentions, you stepped back a bit to pull your shirt up off of your chest and helped him take off his own, revealing his bare chest and faint abs. You had no idea he'd be the type to work out at all, but imagining the fact that he ever did was just as arousing as seeing him shirtless.
You attempted to try and sit up on the counter near the sink, but failed due to the mild chronic pain you were starting to get in your legs. Crap, why now of all times?
He noticed your struggle and showed concern in his facial expression. Without a word, he lifted you slightly and helped you be able to sit up on the counter. Your face turned a bit more red as you noticed his gaze being all over your body. He started glancing up and down where he could see your burn marks on your bare neck and chest, and noticing the tattoos around on your waist and hips. You looked down at them yourself, almost forgetting that seeing you shirtless would also mean seeing your scars and marks.
While he's never even seen you without your cardigan at work, he actually liked this deeper view of who you were. He went back to kissing you as he was now standing between your legs, continuing to feel you up, holding you by your bare waist and hips. Your hands went to hold onto his shoulders, kissing him back with a level of intensity you never thought about with him.
His hands moved around on your skin, eventually moving back to the waistband of your shorts, but instead of just keeping them still there, he then started to try and undo them, making it clear what he really wanted from you.
Almost immediately, you unzipped your shorts by yourself and slid them off with his help, your panties coming off with them. Your panties were then hanging on your foot with your shorts lying on the floor.
He leaned back just a little to see the view before him of your half-naked figure, smiling with lust in his eyes. You pulled him closer and started to clash lips back into his, almost needing his lips locked onto yours as he began to fumble with his jeans and push them down with his boxers coming off along.
He pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, but he did this with a look of possession, like he was finally claiming something that should've always belonged to him.
He let out a low groan into your mouth, resulting in you doing the same with him as he tried to be closer to you, skin to skin. This made you shiver in arousal, hoping that he would claim you. After all, maybe this unspoken hate for him that you had was just a result of the tension you two always had. Now, this was the time to just let all of that hate go and replace it with what it really should've been all along.
He pulled you closer to him and put his lips all over your neck, leaving marks on his territory. You let out a few quiet moans in response to it, right before you let out a loud noise of pleasure as he casually just slid himself inside of you and gripped your hips harder than ever.
You continued to let out your pleasuring noises as he began to move his hips against your body in a rhythm you noticed that he was really good at being consistent with. After a few seconds, you noticed him gripping your hips harder and harder with his rough hands. You winced at the pain, and Ryland moved his head to look at you, stopping himself and loosening his grip on your sensitive body.
"What's wrong? Are you okay? Do you want me to go slower?" He asked immediately on instinct, to which you almost laughed at his concern and shook your head.
"No, I'm fine, it's just that you were gripping me too hard. You've got really strong hands." You chuckled as you just involuntarily complimented his hands, which he raised an eyebrow in response to that and gave a slight smirk as he inched his face closer to yours and responded in a low voice that made you shiver. "You like my hands?"
Your face turned redder as you realized what you really just said to him about his hands. In reality, yeah, you did like his hands. They were gentle and loving while handling anything, yet still rough and sexy to have holding you this way.
Out of impulse, you locked your lips back onto his as he continued moving his body against yours in that same rhythmic pattern, making you continue to let out more moans into his mouth that he had never heard from you before, but this made him grow more aroused as he was now moving his hips at a faster pace.
He pulled away from the kiss to hear your beautiful moans, and went back to your neck to continue leaving bruises there to mark what's his. His hands moved from your hips to hold you by your back so he could be closer to you than ever. He let out his own sounds of pleasure into your neck, leading you to bite your lip when hearing him be as noisy as you, and silently praying that you wouldn't get caught.
"I love you..." He whined into your neck unexpectedly, causing your face to change in expression in response to his words. Hearing those words made you feel warm, but the kind of warmth you never thought you would ever feel with Ryland, or anyone for that matter.
Your pleasure continued as he started to move a bit faster, you had to cover your mouth so you wouldn't be too loud and get you two busted.
He lifted his head from your neck and grabbed your hand to move it from your mouth, watching your face betray you in embarrassment while still making the same wonderful noises he just couldn't get enough of.
You felt a certain kind of pressure as he sped up his pace, getting closer and closer to releasing yourself on him, and he felt you getting as close as he was. His moans grew as loud as yours, and his hands were now gripping at your hips again with more intensity, but thankfully not too much where it hurt like earlier.
You bit your lip some more as you were reaching the edge of your release, until he suddenly leaned over to bite at your neck a bit, resulting in you finishing on him with a loud final moan, which he finished as well once he heard your beautiful noises. Thankfully, he pulled out in time; zero panic about that.
You both stayed in the same position for a few seconds while you both were breathing heavily, your chests heaving full of air, maybe your lungs were also hoping to be able to breath some cool air.
"We should probably... get outta here before we get into trouble," you said while still catching your breath. He lifted his head from your neck to look at you again, staring into your eyes with some kind of notion that he wanted more. Obviously, you did have to leave.
He pressed a few kisses to your cheek before grabbing a paper towel from nearby and helping you clean up. You looked at him as he helped you with the aftercare, with a soft expression that silently said "thank you" without actually saying it.
"You need any help walking back to the bar?" He asked with a low and caring tone in his voice, placing his hands beneath your arms to help you get down off the counter.
"Only a little, plus I don't want anyone being suspicious of....this." You replied in reassurance, even though you stumbled a bit while trying to reach for your shorts and underwear off the floor. Out of instinct, he reached out, ready to catch you if you were actually going to fall.
Once he saw you were okay and able to get your shirt back on without help, he picked up his own shirt off the floor and changed back into it, and also straightened out the placement of his boxers, as well as fixed up his jeans so he didn't look so...messy.
You looked into the mirror above the sink to check your makeup and hair in case it needed fixing. So far, only your hair was needing a bit of a brush, so you just ran your fingers through the stray strands sticking out to hopefully smoothen it out and make it look like nothing at all happened with it.
He stood behind you while you leaned over in the mirror, feeling the urge to grab you and hold you close to him from behind you. The second he did, you gave him a confused look in the mirror, but held his hand as it was rested on your hip, smiling at him while he planted small kisses along your neck.
When doing so, thats when you finally noticed the hickies he left along your neck. "God dammit, really man?!" You scolded him with your words, and he laughed at you a bit just to tease, continuing to give your neck the real kind of love and affection, hoping it was good enough for the kind of aftercare you needed, since you didnt think to bring your cane with you.
You finally opened the door and let you both out to walk back to the bar to meet back with the others, who you assumed were all busy playing pool still. You turned back and noticed Ryland's zipper was still down. You cleared your throat to get his attention towards that so he would fix it.
He looked down, and with slight panic he fixed it as you laughed at him quietly. In response, he rolled his eyes in slight annoyance, but still smiled at his own stupidity.
"You're such an idiot I swear." You mumbled to him, he caught on to it though.
"You're the one who was sounding like an idiot in there earlier..." He teased at you, to which you elbowed him in the stomach as payback.
When you got to the pool table, you both saw Colt and Simon getting awfully close to each other during the current game. Simon greeted you both as he noticed you were both back finally.
"Hey enby! Where were you two at this whole time?" Simon asked cluelessly. You and Ryland looked at each other as your faces got a bit hotter when having nothing else to say about it.
Simon noticed your exchanged look and caught on fast, giving you and Grace a smirk. "Oh damnnnn, were you actually getting it on?!" He asked unnecessarily loud, and in response you shushed Simon immediately and tried to be discreet about it.
"NO we DIDN'T so SHHHUSSHH." You tried to whisper to him, obviously failing to do so. Colt gave his brother the same look as Simon gave you, to which Ryland looked away immediately and tried to act like he wasn't paying any attention to anything else.
"Whatever, at least you two aren't being total lards to each other tonight." Simon said, then turned to Colt. "Colt you owe me $20 now!"
"YOU BET ON US HAVING SEX?!" You almost shouted at them with total embarassment and pure annoyance. Simon began laughing his ass off at your reaction, trying his best to make it seem like its not a big deal to literally make bets about the two rivals eventually banging it out.
"Calm down its just a joke!" Simon tried to reassure you, even though he knew you were still very much embarrassed at the situation.
And yet you thought tonight was gonna be a normal night of games and drinks.
PS: im kinda new to writing smut specifically, again, plz be nice to me, and hopefully at least some people out there with chronic pain issues enjoyed this. im personally suspecting i have fibromyalgia, and i wanted to make my PHM oc be disabled almost in the same way. so hopefully yall enjoyed that specific kind of thing :')
WARNING!!! mention of hard drugs, violence, murder, blood, homophobic hatespeech, punching a nazi though
summary: you really hate Driver, and Driver hates you. like Driver, you do criminal work by dealing drugs and delivering them around on your motorcycle. in the daytime though, you deliver food and paint at an art studio. you and Driver have this habit of running into each other while doing your dirty work at night. This one time, you were delivering a pack of hard drugs to a client when you were randomly being harassed by a stranger, and Driver happened to step in to help you, but you obviously can't just take his help with gratitude when it's clear he hates you....at least that's what you think.
the ideal OC's appearance: brown hair always in a small ponytail with a single blonde streak, usually wearing a dark red plaid skirt and a black motorcycle jacket, motorcycle helmet is usually on and it would have cat ears attached as decor, burn marks on the right of the face and a bit on the neck too, name is Harley
pairing: fem reader x driver, an enemies to lovers dynamic
level of smuttiness: 3/5, mostly just making out lmfao
After half a day spent at the art studio painting, you start your deliveries to your clients at night. You went to each client's house, workplace, or meet-up spot to deliver packs of Coke, weed, acid, the usual. Each client is usually either a junkie with an addiction problem or a single parent just looking for a way to feel free for a night or two.
It was almost 1 in the morning, and you're delivering for your last client of the night, so you pull your motorcycle up in the parking lot of a pizza restaurant. You turn the engine off, stick your keys in your pocket, and head inside with a brown box full of 2 pounds of coke.
Behind the counter, 3 men were having a conversation you couldn't give much of a crap about. As soon as you stepped in with the package, their focused gaze shifted to you, obviously eager to have the goods in their own hands.
"Hello, miss! You have our order?" the owner says with a grin. You hand him the package and mention the payment upfront. "That's 100 by the way," you said with a serious but slightly dull monotone.
The owner looks back up at you with an eyebrow raised, almost surprised at the price, as if he didn't know how much it would be before putting in the order. He huffs through his nose as a way to laugh. "No one told me it'd be that expensive! How about $75? Hm?"
You take off your helmet and reveal your face with a serious killer look, also featuring the burn scars on your chin and upper neck. You were not willing to negotiate.
"It's 100, now pay up if you wanna keep your teeth in your mouth instead of your stomach."
The smile on the man's face instantly dissolves and is replaced with a concerned look. He then rummages through the cash register and pulls out a couple of 20s with a shaky hand. You count the 20s to make sure he's given the right amount; to your satisfaction, he did.
You slip the money into your wallet and walk out of the restaurant in silence.
Right when you step outside, you notice Driver's car in the parking lot; in response, your eye twitches slightly, and annoyance floods your mood instantly. You remember how much of a bother he can be, considering he tends to get in your way a lot, even though he actually thinks you're the one getting in his way all the time. But seriously, does he always have to be fucking around with the same people that are buying stuff from you? It's infuriating.
You stand there for a second to recollect your thoughts. With a deep breath, you try to think of what to do for dinner tonight once you get home. While walking back to your motorcycle, you hear a loud shout behind you, but you decide not to respond or even look behind you.
As soon as you got to your bike, a random man ran up to talk to you. "Hey, just wanted to talk with you."
You only give a quiet greeting back just to be barely polite. "Hi, not interested." You then reach into your pockets again to get your keys.
The stranger ignores your rejection and tries to still keep your attention, "I know, but I saw you inside talking to those guys, you know em?" He gives a toothy grin to seem nice and active.
Since he ignored your initial rejection, you give a response that's a bit harsher, especially since you kept the same serious monotone with your voice. "Look, I'm not interested. Please leave me alone."
His face changes like a stubborn fox trying to seem innocent to his prey. "Oh, you got a boyfriend or something?"
You set your helmet down on the seat of your bike, starting to get fed up with the shit this random stranger is trying to pull. "I'm. Not. Interested." Then you continue to rummage through your bag to find your keys.
The stranger snorts and says something that definitely catches your attention. "Wish it was the 50s so dykes like you would still be exterminated."
You look up slowly to process what just came out of this pig-faced shit-eating fascist's mouth.
"I swear the world was better before feminism became popular and everyone was agreeing that queers should be in the psych wards. If you-"
You shut him up instantly when your fist swung into his face, he bounced back with his hand holding his face as a bruise formed near his eye. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU YOU BITCH!?" He shouted at you with anger, attempting to grab your arm before you grabbed your pocket knife and stabbed him in the hand. he yelped in pain, holding his punctured hand with the other one. He tried to swing back with a punch before he was suddenly pulled back by the collar of his shirt by....Driver?
Driver shoved him to the ground and kicked him in his crotch, but he didn't stop at his actions. He kept kicking at him, eventually started to stomp on him with the brutal force of his leg. The stranger's face and chest was bloody as Driver kept going at him, not stopping until he wasn't breathing much anymore.
You didn't stop him; you could've yelled at Driver and told him to stop, you could've tried to hold him back before it got worse, but you didn't. You willingly let him just beat the brakes off of this nazi until his face was unrecognizable. Not only did you let it happen, you almost found it... arousing. You couldn't possibly have a crush on him now, after weeks of wishing for this man's downfall; you saw him before you beat a man bloody just because of some bigoted comment he made.
After the stranger's face was bloodied and unrecognizable, Driver stood up straight and slowly turned to you, expecting you to run off, to be scared of him. Funny thing is, you didn't know how to feel about this. You felt confused if anything, he hated your guts as much as you hated his, so why would he try so hard to protect you from this rando?
You stood there, slightly shaky, your eyes stricken with concern and surprise. "Why did you do that...?" you asked quietly, hoping for an answer that makes sense and sounds like him.
"He was...harassing you. I couldn't just stand there and watch...." Driver answered with a look of concern. Not for the man, but for you.
You laughed a bit to yourself; you weren't buying it. "I could've handled it myself."
His eyes twitched in confusion, expecting you to at least say thank you. To be fair, even if he hated you so damn much, he knew you better than to accept any kind of help given. "I know, but still I-"
You cut him off almost immediately with a slap to the face. "Exactly, you knew I could've handled it by myself, and you still tried to step in, acting like you're my knight in shining armor. You're stupid as hell, Driver."
He was still looking down from the slap you gave him, he continued to speak in hopes that you'd understand. Hopefully you would realize his true intentions; hopefully you'd trust him with this at least a little, but of course you wouldn't.
"I know... but it was for a good reason," He responded with a low and careful tone, slowly looking back at your face, seeing as it was filled with hate and disdain. Meanwhile, his face showed an expression not even a psychiatrist was able to read.
You scoffed in his face and shoved him out of instinct; he didn't react with much other than a grunt. You swung a few punches to his face, all of which he blocked with his arms; despite this, you kept attempting to make him fight back.
You attempted to punch at his chest and his face more, to which he only gave a single punch back but missed, and kept blocking your hits and stopping your punches as you continued. Out of impulse, you swung at him with your pocket knife and stabbed him in his abdomen, and he bounced back on his car door. You realized what you just did; you actually stabbed him in the stomach, just because he stuck up for you. Shit.
You took a step back, realizing what you had done, and came closer with a slightly worried face as he kept his hand on the bleeding wound. "Shit, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I was just-"
"It's fine, I'm okay," he responded with a slightly flat tone. He didn't seem all that fazed by the literal stab wound that was in his stomach that you caused.
"You're not, we gotta get you to a hospital! Get in the car, I'll drive while you-" You attempted to open the car door to the driver's seat before he closed it behind him and blocked the car door. He looked at you with a soft expression that seemed weirdly reassuring.
"I'm okay. If you had done it higher or lower than this, then I'd be passed out by now. Calm down." He says with a softer tone. Driver puts his hand on your lower waist, shifting it to your back as he finds a way to bring you closer to him. Your heart is literally thumping out of your chest; this is obviously the closest you've ever been with each other.
It feels warm being this close to him, like this is something you've been needing to do with him without ever realizing. Suddenly all that hate and disdain and annoyance is washed away and replaced with bittersweet desire.
Your bodies shift closer and closer by the second, his hand slowly motioning up and down your back to calm you down, and his other hand that was on his stab wound then moved to your other side, making him hold you properly close to him. As he pulled you against him, ignoring the pain and bleeding from his abdomen, your hands then moved to his shoulders for balance.
You see a calm, soft look in his eyes; for once, you can read his expression. "Are you sure you're okay?" you ask him softly for reassurance once more, although you know he can clearly handle the injury he has to endure, but you just want to make sure.
"I'm fine, I've dealt with worse," he smiled slightly, his head inching slowly closer to yours, and you feel your head involuntarily also moving closer. In a single second, his lips moved into yours, your eyes closed immediately as you let go of all the hate you once had for him and moved your lips with his.
His hands moved around your back more intimately than earlier, letting himself go and feeling you from your hips to your upper waist to your ass. You found yourself breathing at a calm pace now as you let your arms sit by his neck and sliding your fingers through his rough blonde hair.
He let a few noises into your mouth back in response to your motions. As he let his hands go to grip your waist with possession, your back arched slightly, all that anger and annoyance melted away by his touch.
From how he's acting now, you get this sensation that this is right.
You pull away from the kiss, but your gaze stayed on his; it felt weirdly warm. Is this normal?
You snapped back to reality and looked down at the stranger's bloody body lying still on the ground. "We need to leave before someone finds us." You took a single step back, motioning towards your bike.
You slipped back on your helmet and turned the key on your motorcycle.
He hopped in the driver's seat of his car, turning on the engine and pulling out into the road while you followed alongside his car on your bike.
After you took off on your bike, you noticed his car right beside you, following you on purpose, it seemed. You glanced over at him in confusion, seeing him looking at you a few times with this strange look in his eyes. You can't read his expression that well, but mostly it seems like he's studying you.
The way your eyes fixate on the road with a foxy look, a look that could kill, more violently than the way he messed with that stranger harassing you. How your hands grip the handlebars with possessiveness, almost like how you were grabbing him with that same feeling earlier.
All you knew was that you were riding along for the thrill of things, and there's nothing more thrilling than speeding around past midnight with the most handsome yet annoying man you've ever met.
At first, you were mostly getting the thrill from driving around on a bike where cops could possibly arrest you, but that changed almost completely tonight.
You sped up your bike to be slightly past Driver's car, looking back at him with your motorcycle visor making your eyes barely visible, but Driver could see them perfectly. He could see your eyes making that smug look towards him, your expression being obvious of what your true intentions were. He gave you a smug grin before you revved the engine and sped up a bit more through the empty roads you were chasing each other down on.
After all, this is why you drive.
PS: im very mid at writing i know, please be nice to me lol, imma post more oc x canon stuff though, if you dont like you dont gotta read it lol
