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wastelandresident · 1 month ago

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Rescue / Lestappen

Charles can tell his friend is in an abusive relationship, so he makes up his mind to get her out of it. But a few months into having her in their home, he gets a little confused about his feelings.

Charles wasn't blind, he noticed the signs.

It all began with the way she interacted with her boyfriend when they were in public–she tried to look small, always looking apologetic as if she had done something wrong if he as much as looked at her way, and she seemed generally nervous every time he touched her. It wasn’t healthy, no woman should act like that in the company of someone they supposedly loved.

But then they met in a store, and the sleeve of her jumper slid up her forearm, revealing a bruise on her wrist that was unmistakably the sign of someone grabbing her with enough force to leave a mark. When she noticed the way he was looking at it, she quickly pulled down the jumper and said goodbye. It broke his heart, because she was so kind to everyone, she surely didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

The breaking point arrived at a party they both attended. She was wearing a turtleneck sleeveless shirt that covered up most of her neck, but he was looking at her at the right time and noticed the way she pulled away the neck of the shirt to rub her throat. It was bruised, purple marks showing the way she had been probably strangled by her boyfriend. It took every ounce of willpower not to confront the guy or her, so instead he went to find the only person he trusted with this in another room.

Max looked surprised when Charles grabbed his arm and dragged him away to a quiet corner, looking angrier than he had ever seen him. “What is it?” he asked.

“I’m going to kidnap her.” The Monegasque looked sure of himself, determined to do exactly what he was planning, but his boyfriend looked utterly lost and gave him a questioning look to get him to tell him who exactly he was talking about. “Y/N. There are bruises on her neck! We can’t let her stay with him, we have to do something.”

“And how exactly are you planning to do that?” Max wondered, honestly interested in the plan–if he even had one.

This seemed to make him stop and think. The wheels were clearly turning in his head as he thought about it, probably going through dozens of possible conversations and scenarios. “I’ll spill my champagne on her, then I’ll ask Kika to help her in the restroom. I’m sure another woman helping her wouldn’t ring the alarm in her boyfriend. Then I’ll go into the restroom, talk to her, and convince her to come with me.”

The Dutch raised an eyebrow at this. “And?”

“And what?” Charles asked, looking confused.

“You get her to come with you,” Max began to explain, keeping his tone firm, but kind. It wasn’t condescending, yet his boyfriend knew it perfectly well it meant he had his doubts about his idea. “To where? And what then?”

“To our place, obviously.”

“Without asking me?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m asking you now.”

With a sigh, he folded his arms over his chest. “Okay, she comes with us. How will she start a new life without leaving Monaco? I’m sure she’ll meet him again sooner or later, and who knows what he will do then.”

“Then she stays by our side and we will protect her,” he replied, sounding utterly confident.

“Charles.”

This drew an annoyed huff out of him. “What? We can’t leave her in that relationship! She’s obviously afraid to leave him. Let’s help her,” he tried.

The thing is, he was perfectly aware of the fact that Max was smitten with him and always had a hard time saying no. So, when he let out a defeated sigh and ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, he knew he won. “Okay, fine. Pierre and I will keep her boyfriend occupied while you and Kika deal with her,” he said.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile before leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

Max took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Try not to screw it up. The last thing I want is a fist fight with her boyfriend.”

“It will be fine. I'll give you a call when we're far enough.”

“Okay, good luck.”

Knowing he had help, he was becoming more and more sure of the success of this mission. They looked for Pierre and Kika to quickly fill them in, and while the other two men left to mingle with the group Y/N’s boyfriend was chatting with, Charles was busy picking up a glass of champagne with his partner in crime before heading out to find her. She wasn’t hard to spot, and they didn’t hesitate to walk her way with wide smiles on their faces.

Kika was ready to do most of the talking, acting like it was her idea to find her, and after a few minutes of pleasant conversation, Charles finally found the perfect reason why he poured his champagne at her in the face of a poor guest who happened to bump into him. With an exaggerated move, he acted like he lost his balance, and the champagne flute turned her way just enough to spill the drink on her shirt. She looked a little distressed, and they looked at each other for a moment before she started to panic.

“It’s okay, why don’t we go to the restroom and clean it up? It’s no big deal. I’ll help,” Kika offered with a smile.

She looked uncertain for a moment, but then she agreed and so the two of them left. Charles waited a minute, but then he went after the girls, not bothering to check if anyone saw him enter the ladies’ room. The panic in Y/N rose to an even higher level, but he was quick to raise his hands to calm her down. “Don’t freak out, I just wanted to talk to you in private.”

“I don’t think… It’s not… He’s gonna–” she began, her voice broken and terrified.

Kika gave him a worried look, finally understanding how bad the situation was, and Charles didn’t hesitate to move over to her. “It’s okay, Max and Pierre are making sure he’s occupied. Look, I saw your neck, and I remember seeing that handprint shaped bruise on your wrist a month ago, and I’m not blind, I can see the way you act around him. Is this really how you want to live your life?”

“He’s not that bad, it’s just that sometimes he has a bad day, and–”

“Y/N, please,” he tried. “Leave him. If you come with me now, you can hide at our place and we’ll figure out how to get you out of this relationship for good. We’ll protect you, okay?”

She gulped loudly, then she licked her lips as her eyes moved over to the other woman, as if she was waiting for someone else’s opinion. “I know it’s hard to leave, I know you must be afraid, but we’re here to help. Nothing will happen to you, we promise,” she said with a kind smile.

Charles’ heart broke when he heard her talk about how she shouldn’t do this, how she shouldn’t doubt that he loved her, how impossible it was to start a new life, but he didn’t give up, he kept telling her it would be okay, and eventually they managed to convince her to go with them. So he left, moving to the elevator to get to the parking garage, while Kika and Y/N followed him a few minutes later. Once he noticed the two women approaching the car, he sent a message to Max to tell him they were leaving, and he got into the car with the damsel in distress.

The car ride was silent–the kind of thick and heavy silence that felt like being wrapped in a weighted blanket. It made Charles nervous, forcing him to wonder if it was even a good idea, if her boyfriend would put the pieces together and confront them. But even if that happened, he was just some random guy from a rich family, someone his parents ignored most of the time. No connections, no fame. Him and Max? The whole world knew who they were, and there were F1 fans everywhere, he was sure he could pull a few strings to get the guy out of the picture eventually.

The silence was broken by her heavy sigh, one that drew a questioning hum out of him. When he briefly looked at her, she bit on her lower lip and gulped, eyes shiny from the tears she was trying to hold back. “I only have my bag with me, but I don’t have any spare clothes or… I should just go home. I will tell him I didn’t feel well, but I didn’t want to bother him either,” she mumbled as she unlocked her phone, clearly ready to either message her boyfriend, or call him to apologize for leaving.

Charles slowly reached out and gently put a hand on her wrist, making sure he didn’t startle her. “I’ll give you something to sleep in, then tomorrow I’ll go and buy you some new clothes with Kika, okay? And if you need anything else, just write a list, we’ll get everything,” he assured her with a smile.

“This is too much, if he finds out I left…”

He squeezed her hand a little, hoping this gesture could make her focus on him. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re safe with us, and we’ll figure out what’s next.” She nodded, then looked out of the window, lost in her thoughts as she watched the buildings pass by. Taking a deep breath, he considered whether or not he should ask what was on his mind. But his curiosity was stronger than his common sense, so he went, “How long has this been going on anyway? Him treating you that way, I mean.”

She turned to him with a surprised look on her face, but then her gaze shifted to her hands that were anxiously gripping her dress. “It’s not like that, he’s not a bad person,” she muttered.

“Y/N, come on. No one should treat you like he did, you deserve much better than someone like him,” he said softly, forcing himself to stay calm.

“Do I?”

This was like a slap across his face. It wasn’t some hopeful question as if she was trying to figure out if she truly had a chance to find someone better. Instead it was something sadder, more depressing, a question that told him she didn’t think she was worthy of being treated better than that. He had known her before she started dating her boyfriend, he knew how different she had been back then, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pinpoint the time when things changed so drastically for her.

“Yes, you do,” he assured her.

Two hours later she was curled up under the comforter in the guest room, hopefully sleeping peacefully, but most probably crying and thinking about her escape and the possible consequences. Charles didn’t want to bother her, after all he had assured her that if she wanted to talk, or if she needed company, he would be in the living room. Max arrived half an hour after them, but they agreed not to talk about her before they were sure she was asleep, because the last thing they wanted was her overhearing their conversation. So he sat in the simulator, occasionally checking on his boyfriend since he wasn’t streaming at the moment.

Once they peeked into her room and made sure she was asleep, the two of them discussed what to do now. Charles wanted to buy her the essentials the next day, inviting Kika to make it less suspicious, then he also wanted to find her a therapist, because after their conversation in the car he was sure she could use it. Max was okay with everything, but there was one little issue that had to be talked about: the upcoming race weekends.

He didn’t trust her judgment enough to leave her alone in Monaco, afraid she would go back to her boyfriend despite their best effort to help her, but Charles had thought about that too and already sent a message to the right person at Ferrari to get her a pass for the triple-header.

Three months later things seemed to be a lot better. Charles could see the woman she had been before picking the wrong partner, and while she insisted on finally moving out after selling her old apartment and buying a new one that her ex didn’t know about, the Monegasque was usually against the idea. They had settled into a comfortable rhythm together, and he didn’t feel like letting that go just yet. Max thought differently, he tried to convince his boyfriend that she wouldn’t be that far away from them, they could meet whenever, and she could even go to some of the races with them, but it was futile.

“Are you ready?” Charles asked as he stopped in front of her room, his fingers playing with one of his bracelets as he looked at her.

Picking up her jacket, she walked over to him with a big smile. “Yes, we can go now.”

Since Max left the day before to film another challenge with Red Bull, it was just the two of them until Charles also had to travel to the next race, and he wanted to use this time to have fun with her. The two of them had gotten close in the past months, reviving their friendship that was lost because of her past relationship, but things weren’t weird, the conversations were effortless and lighthearted, and some even confused their banters with mutual flirting.

Deep down Charles knew he shouldn’t get this attached to her. There was something about the rumors, about the occasional articles that included photos of their nights out, that made him think about what exactly he was doing. Max never complained, he never said a word about this, but he could tell it bothered him. And he had every right not to like it. Yet every time he looked at her, he remembered that small crush he had had on her back in the day, way before he and Max got closer than expected.

“What got you thinking so hard?” she asked with a small smile as they sat in his car in the parking garage.

He got so lost in his thoughts that he completely forgot how to function, so he just sat there in the driver’s seat and stared out of the window. It was only her voice that brought him back to reality, and he turned to her with a sheepish smile. “Nothing, I just… I don’t even know.”

The Monegasque fell silent, his head full of questions and ideas, but once again he got lost in the noise. He didn’t even know what he was doing until he felt his lips being pressed to hers, a hand instinctively moving to the back of her head to keep her close. At first, she returned the kiss, but then she placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him away, her eyes wide from the confusion.

“Charles, what are you doing?” she asked quietly, her hand covering her lips as she leaned against the door to be as far from him as possible.

“I have no idea,” he admitted with a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. I crossed a line I shouldn’t have.”

But she just shook her head, chest heaving from her panicked, heavy breathing. “No, it’s–it’s my fault. I really need to go,” was all she said before quickly getting out of the car and heading to the elevator.

Charles cursed under his breath for being this stupid, then decided to follow her so they could sort this out like adults. He had to wait for the elevator to return, but he could only hope she went back to the apartment, and didn’t leave the building to go for a late night walk alone. Five nerve-wracking minutes later he was finally inside his home, moving to the guest room without hesitation since the lights were on. And when he looked inside, he found her packing a suitcase.

“Y/N, don’t do this, let’s just talk about what happened,” he tried, but she only shook her head at this. So, with a sigh, he walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder to make her look at him. “I’m sorry, okay? I–I don’t know why I did it, but I know it was a mistake. Just don’t blame yourself, it’s all on me,” he clarified.

“I shouldn’t have… I think I just shouldn’t have been so nice to you, I should have kept my distance, I should have moved out a long time ago,” she said, already sobbing. “It’s definitely my fault, I’m sorry.”

It was only now that he realized she was terrified. She was back to that woman she had been a few months ago, the quiet scaredy cat that alway assumed she had done something wrong, and who expected some kind of punishment for it. “Hey, look at me,” he said softly as he placed a finger under her chin to tilt her head up. “I was the one who kissed you, not the other way around. I’m the one to blame, not you. Do you really want to move out?” She nodded, her cheeks wet from the tears that kept falling. “Alright, I… I guess I will help you move, okay? Will you let me do this?”

Shaking her head, she let out a sigh. “I’ll call a friend to help, if you don’t mind him coming here. I’ll see if he can jump in tonight. The sooner the better.” Charles licked his lips as he watched her, his green eyes focused on her, taking in every little movement that could tell him about how she felt. It looked like she truly felt better now, her mind made up about the plan. “Please?”

He nodded, knowing perfectly well there was no reason to fight. “Sure, sure, it’s okay. I just… Weren’t the three of us good here? I like what we built up in the past months and–” he began, but was interrupted by her putting a hand on his arm.

“Max will be thrilled that I’m out, believe me,” she said with a sad smile. “And I need some space. I need to be away from you, I need to clear my head. Maybe one day we can talk again, but that… I don’t know, it seems a little far away.”

His chest tightened at the thought. Did she really want to leave for that long? Was she really planning to avoid him? It was worse than he thought, and he didn’t think he could let her go so suddenly. Maybe he had feelings for her. Not the same ones he had for Max, but still, he had a soft spot for his friend, something that could be a little confusing. With a sigh, he took a few steps back and ran a hand through his hair as he thought. Maybe she wasn’t the only one needing a little time.

When she saw him nod and leave the room, she made a phone call that he partially listened to, so he knew she called that friend of hers. Then she returned to packing her things, and he could do nothing but sit on the couch and stare at his phone. Should he tell Max that he had kissed her? Or should he only say that they agreed she would move out tonight? In the end, he decided not to cause drama. It wasn’t like there would be anyone between the two of them after the kiss. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a mistake. Something that would never happen again.

#lestappen #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 #max verstappen

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stevie-petey · 3 months ago

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stug stug stug pleaseee i would LOVE to see something where bug is comforting steve maybe he had a fight w his dad or j in general. i’m so excited for season 4! but obvi take your time j know that we’re all very excited bc we just know that you will blow us away with your writing!!

really missin happy steve and bug so im writin this <33

enjoy !

"i dont think it looks that bad."

"youre a terrible liar, y/n."

"im not lying!" but the way your voice pitches gives it all away, and steve knows it.

"im ruined." he drops his head into your lap, burying his face in the flesh of your thigh. partially because hes mourning the loss of his hair, but mostly because he adores your thighs and revels in them whenever he can.

steve is in mourning. he can be as selfish as he wants when it comes to your thighs. its his god given right as your boyfriend.

knowing what hes doing, you shove steves face away from your thighs, though not unkindly. youre still shy around him, his touch against your bare skin foreign after only a month of dating. steve is gentle and patient with you, he understands that youve never really been in a relationship before, so he takes his time with you.

secretly, you adore how gentle he is. how cautiously he skims his fingers over your waist or how softly he breathes against your neck. it makes everything easier, lighter, for you. to be loved so tenderly without any falsehood behind it.

lost in your honey warmth of love for steve, your fingers tangle through his hair. that is, whats left of it. steves chest faces you, the hem of his shirt has lifted slightly during his complaining. soft skin spills out from underneath, revealing a plush tummy. with a mind of their own, your eyes draw down the lines of his abdomen. a low hum stirs in your own stomach.

"are you seriously checking me out right now?" steve taps your nose with his finger, snapping you out of your daze. "i mean, here i am, the love of your life, mourning the loss of beautiful hair that was taken from us too soon, and youre drooling over me."

you flick his forehead, he scrunches his face, and its familiar and lovely. "i wasnt drooling, i just wasnt listening to your dramatic despair."

steve gasps, hand over his chest. "my hair was murdered!"

"honey, only like, two inches were cut off."

well, more like three, but you wont tell him that.

somehow one of the kids, almost certainly mike, left their chewed up gum on the counter top of family video when they visited earlier today. they came in like a storm, turning the place upside down before you, robin, or steve could even stop them. apparently dustin had wanted a new movie, will was bored, lucas wanted max to go outside, and el forced mike to join because shes never seen a movie store before.

the wreckage they left behind for such simple reasons for even entering the store in the first place had astounded you.

then, because steve is always perpetually suffering the consequences of the partys actions the most, had dropped his head down onto the counter top in exhaustion as soon as they left.

right in the same spot the gum had been left.

never before have you ever seen steve crumble to the floor quite so suddenly. it was comical, really. the way he shrieked in horror while you and robin watched, neither having any idea what had just happened.

which leads you to now: consoling steve as you comb through his newly cut hair.

"what, are you implying two inches isnt a huge amount of length?" steve raises an eyebrow at you, teasing, and you blush furiously. sparing you, he doesnt point it out and instead changes the topic. "i hate those little heathens, i really do."

"how do we know one of them is the gum culprit?"

"because theyre cursed little shitheads who always mar my appearance one way or another." then, as an afterthought, steve adds, "plus that wheeler kid has a weird obsession with watermelon gum."

again you try to defend the kids, even though you know it was most definitely mike. sure, he shouldnt have left his gum on the counter, but it was funny. "and how do we know it was watermelon gum?"

"i could smell it when robin was cutting all my hair off, angel."

"and yet youre as handsome as ever!" you press a purposely messy kiss atop of steves head, blowing slightly into his face and making a dramatic kissing sound when you pull away. anything to distract him from realizing it was all mikes fault.

gotta protect the little shithead somehow.

steve shrieks, reminiscent of the shriek from earlier, and shoves you away as he wipes at his face. "ew!"

"how dare you wipe my kiss away, steve harrington."

"you spit on me!"

"lovingly."

steve rolls onto his stomach and throws himself onto you. now its your turn to shriek as he throws his weight on top of you, tackling you onto his bed. luckily his parents arent home, otherwise theyd have some very horrified questions.

"steve!" you land with a soft thud on his pillows, and he smiles up from above you. hes all proud, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and his eyes shine with adoration for you.

hes beautiful. you cant believe hes yours.

"youre supposed to be comforting me, angel!" steve presses himself down even more, rendering you unable to move and wiggle away from him. you squeal when his hands find your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he tickles you. "i mean, im wounded here!"

you squeal with laughter as his hands attack you, mercilessly, yet gentle nonetheless. "s-steve! stop!"

"not until you apologize to my hair."

"your hair?" more laughter rips from your chest, ribs aching.

"mhm, tell my hair that its still handsome. his feelings are hurt." steve buries his nose into your neck, causing you to giggle even more, and the sound encases his body and reminds him of everything good and lovely.

you try to pull away, but steve has you pinned. "youre-ah! youre such an-an idiot!"

"that doesnt sound like an apology, y/n."

finally giving up, you force out an apology in between breaths of laughter. "i-im sorry! your-your hair is handsome!"

steves fingers leave your sides, but he pulls you deep into his chest and collapses upon you. he nuzzles into your neck, wraps his hands around you, tries to meld the two of you into one. "much better," he mumbles into your skin.

"your hair really is handsome, you know." you draw circles into steves back, breath slowly returning to normal. fingers finding his hair once more, you play with the strands and massage his head with your nails. "youre handsome. two inches lost or not.”

"really?" steve lifts his face, looks down at you, preening at your words with an unusual shyness.

you bring your hands to his face, holding it with all the love you have for him. "the handsomest."

lips find lips, and soon the two of you get lost in each other as you inevitably always do.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #ask #anon #m speaks #come home blurb #m's writing #set in between seasons 3 and 4 !#this is officially my favorite come home blurb btw #i miss them sm #too bad season 4 they get absolutely fucked #<3

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kiame-sama · 2 months ago

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[Human reader being filmed while having a rare moment to themselves] This is human reader. Human reader likes her personal space.

[next shot is Human Reader being crowded by the Monster twst cast] This is Monster Twst, they also like human reader’s personal space.

Jokes aside I love your au! I think it’s really breathed some life into the aus of twst!! I especially love your world building!! I must admit, when I first read some of the monsters that you picked for the cast I was hesitant, but now I can’t imagine them as anything else? Especially Rook!! When I first went into this au I was expecting a wolf, some breed of hunting dog, maybe a bird of prey, something like that right? But I can totally see him as a spider now!!

If I may ask, this is in regards of poachers in your au, are they strictly trying to kill reader, or are there poachers hoping to catch her as like, an exotic pet? What would be the ratio/market for that? Personally speaking, I can totally see someone trying to get close to the royals/high ranking families of the twst guys by stealing reader and presenting them as like an “exotic pet” (even though I know it would end awfully for that person) imagine Hades or Maleficant’s reaction to that… yikes. On the other hand, if someone tried to gift reader to Leona’s family, that would be like free PR for them. Like imagine the show of “we would never!” and the following act of showing how trustworthy they are in taking care of such a “fragile species” you’d have to pry Reader away from their cold, dead, furry grippers

Oh!! And do you have any old wives tales/folk legends regarding humans and, well, their body parts? Ik this sounds morbid, and I’m so sorry, but I have a headcanon that some humans were used for potions. Idk what kind of potions, but I just know someone was dripping blood or throwing hair into a cauldron. I also can’t get this thought out of my head of some guy in twst having a “lucky charm” that’s like, human hair or something, kinda like rabbits feet, that “their grandpa passed down to them and it’s been In the family for generations”, you know? Last question, I promise, do you think Crowley has a secret collection of human artifacts? I can totally see Reader snooping around and finding an ancient cookbook or a map of the island that shows you where you can finds herbs, spices, fruit, and safe places to hunt

Warnings: poachers, talk of Human consumption, my monster AU, history of my AU, some Crowley history for this AU,

~~~~~~~~

- The poachers are not only trying to kill the Last Human, though there are many. Some are seeking this Human to be a pet, either for themselves or someone very influential. Some are seeking to be 'middle-men' and take the Human to sell later down the line. There are even a few older Fae poachers looking to 'raise' this Human as they lost their own adopted Human children a while back and seek to rekindle that feeling even if this Human is technically an adult already.

- Some poachers do seek to kill this Human and sell them piece by piece to whoever is buying. Human wombs and testicles were often used in 'fertility' potions as it was believed Humans were fertile universal breeders (they technically were, but consuming their parts did nothing for monster-folk fertility). Human teeth were often collected by Fae as luck charms (hence the idea of a tooth fairy) and many Fae who raised Humans still have their Human's baby teeth or have since passed those teeth on to their descendants. Many poachers are looking to get and sell the Human's teeth for charms, the meat to those eccentric monsters that want the rarest meat, their reproductive organs for these 'folk-medicines', and the other parts to whoever will pay enough for them.

- Those Poachers that seek to sell the Human as an exotic pet will absolutely go to the most influential they can think of- Hades and Malefecent are high on that list given their age and power- but several dignitaries and Kings/Queens are also on the list of potential buyers for a pet Human. Some even seek to take this Human to put in a Zoo/nature preserve as this is the last of a species after all, why not parade this specimen around for all to see? It will end very poorly regardless of who these poachers try to sell the Human as a pet to, but ESPECIALLY bad in the case of Falena, Maleficent, and Hades for different reasons.

- None of these poachers realize THE Malleus Draconia has already staked a claim and made this Human part of his Hoard. Some would stop dead in their tracks and give up the hunt if they were to find out, some are desperate enough to try their luck. None will succeed if Malleus has anything to say about it.

~•§•~

- Crowley does have a lot of Human artifacts! He is a Crow and Humans made such lovely items that he has collected quite a bit. (Y/n) isn't the only Human Crowley has tried to keep before. He is determined to keep this one, unlike the last little female Human six-hundred years ago who was unfortunately taken away from his care for reasons. He loves Humans. LOVES them. He loves that they are such a diverse species and he loves the way Humans just make things work even between monster-folk that traditionally hate each other.

- Crowley collects Human things and fully sees this current Human as his chick. He will try to parent them regardless of how old they are. He loves the idea of raising his own Human and is somewhat hoping this Human can give him that sense of parental success or even provide a half-human infant he can raise later on. Of course, he is not sure who he would ever allow to mate his precious chick in order to make that half-human infant, but the idea is still one he holds out hope for.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #Humans Are Extinct TWST AU #twst monster au

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redfoxwritesstuff · 29 days ago

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CW: Titty fucking, large breasts, Adam being adam, oral, cum shots, facial Rating: Adult Summar: Adam and his new, large breasted lover have been fucking like rabbits but you're tired and sore. Adam though, in love with your curves will gladly take the chance to lavish your chest with some affection.

Adam was a woman’s man. That was for sure. He loved every part of the form of women. How could he not? They were shaped with him in mind. That was why he named his warriors after parts of the female body.

That was why as he took his time, when he had the time, to enjoy the bodies of his partners. If someone grabbed him by the balls and demanded he pick a favorite part of the woman’s form, though, he’d have no choice but to pick their breasts.

He was a father and remembered well how they would swell when seed took root within the womb. He remembered how they fed and supported life in a way nothing else could.

And he remembered how fucking good they felt pushed together, wrapped around his cock.

Look, Adam wasn’t always a bad motherfucker he was now, but he was created with the single goal of going forth and making babies. With that written into your very soul, how could he not think with his cock?

“Adam?” you asked, standing in the middle of his living room, bathed in the bright sunlight of Heaven.

“Fuck, babe,” he let out a long breath, coming back to reality as his eyes ran over your form, taking in the way his silk robe clung to every generous curve. It strained to cover the massive swells of your breasts. “You look so fucking good like this. I’m getting hard again.”

You rolled your eyes, paying more attention to trying to put the mess of your hair to rights than the man that you had spent all morning and most of the afternoon rolling around the sheets with.

Your body was sore, satisfied, and you were ready for water and some food before you were even going to consider sixth round. Or would it be the seventh? In Adam, you had met your sexual match, and you were thriving.

Adam walked up to you, hands eagerly running over flesh as soon as he was close enough to reach out to you. Palms smoothed over curves and worked their way under the fabric covering your body, slipping it off your shoulders. You stood naked in the bright sunlight.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Adam said in a voice as close to a whisper as he was capable of.

“Seriously, Adam.” You tried to sound stern but lost any resolve as his large hands cupped your heavy breasts. The buds of your nipples poked out between his fingers.

“I fuckin’ love your tits,” Adam’s voice was full of greed as he pushed you back, guiding your body to sit on the couch by your tits.

He hit his knees, lips peppering the large mounds of your breasts with open-mouthed kisses. His tongue swirled around flesh, pulling your nipple into his mouth. Adam suckled as your breasts, kneading the handful of tissue in his other hand.

Your head fell back, a soft moan falling from your lips as he worked over the already sensitive and bruised tissue. Your breasts, hips and thighs were covered in purple love bites, red marks from where fingers dug into soft skin. His tongue ran over skin as if you were the last meal on earth.

“Adam,” you gasped as he slotted himself between your thighs, fist pumping his cock. “I need to rest. I’m sore.”

“Babe,” Adam whined, looking up at you from where he seemed to be putting a solid attempt at getting smothered by your breasts, “I want you again.”

“I can’t,” you sighed, his mouth kissing your nipples.

“I got an idea.” He leaned back, hands gathering up your tits as he stood. “Lean back.”

“What are you doing?” you asked, even as you leaned back on the couch as he asked.

Adam straddled you on the couch, one knee on each side of your hips. He was careful to avoid crushing you as he held his cock in his hand. He pumped his fist around it a few more times before letting go and instead grabbing your breasts and thrusting his cock between them.

“Fuck, babe, they swallow my cock up.” He moaned as he thrust his cock up between your breasts. “Fuckin love your tits.”

“Are you going to fuck my breasts?” Your laugh died in your throat as Adam looked down at you with pure lust.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” Adam moaned, thrusting into your chest again and again. “If you’ll let me.”

“Alright,” you whispered, watching his face as he fucked into you.

The way he looked at you, the pleasure on his face, made you feel powerful. While the act of having his cock between your breasts didn’t feel particularly pleasurable, the sound of his moans was.

“Fuck, this is amazing.” Adam was panting, body tired from the rounds of sex earlier in the day.

Looking down, you watched the head of his cock pop in and out of the space between your breasts. Curiosity won out, and you opened your mouth, pushing your head down. The head of his cock pushed into your waiting mouth.

Adam moaned as your warm, wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock again and again. You stuck your tongue out, giving his shaft something to guide into your mouth.

“Babe,” Adam moaned, “That’s so fuckin’ hot. Keep doing that and I’ll blow my fuckin’ load.”

Your eyes flicked up to him, daring him to. Asking him to. You felt so wanted, so desired, as he fucked your breasts faster and faster. Your saliva smeared between your breasts, dribbling onto your chest as he moaned.

“Going to cum,” Adam moaned deeply as his rhythm became uneven.

You moaned with him, not from sexual pleasure, but from the way Adam’s lust and desire made you feel. His cock twitched as he fucked harder through the space between your breasts.

He came with a deep curse, cock shooting ropes of cum up between your breasts. It splattered into your waiting mouth. Ropes coated your face and landed on your breasts as he fucked his way through his orgasm. Seed smeared between your breasts, lubricating his passage.

Legs twitching, struggling to support his tired body, Adam fell back. Wings fluttered as he realized there was nothing to catch him. It was too late to stop his plummet to the floor, wet cock slapping against his stomach as he landed.

“Are you okay?” You asked, leaning forward while looking for something to clean the cum off your body.

“Yeah babe, just almost had a second death due to your titties…”

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

i don’t know if this is something you might feel comfortable with writing but could you do something like any of the marauders or poly!marauders where they have a moment of misogyny. it could be towards reader or just in general during a conversation. i think it’s really interesting considering their time period isn’t really that progressive yet.

Thanks for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Three days ago, you’d decided to go on strike. Three days, and now the sink is completely full of disgusting, almost-smelly dishes with food still crusted to them.

Sirius simply doesn’t do dishes. Ever. You’re not sure if it’s some kind of rich boy syndrome where he thinks he just puts them in the sink and then later they magically disappear, but the assumption that he doesn’t have to clean up after himself is really starting to grate on your nerves.

You have to remind yourself that Sirius is a great boyfriend. For the most part, you like living with him, you really do. He brings you home sweets after he gets off work, he gives you lazy massages while you sit watching TV at night, and you may be biased, but you think he’s generally a delight to have around.

So for a while, you tried to tell yourself that it was worth having to do a few extra dishes. You love him, and he loves you, and there’s no reason to rock the boat, right? You could do this extra thing for him, just like he does so many for you. But eventually, it was the lack of appreciation that got to you.

When Sirius takes his plate to the kitchen after dinner, you keep your voice light as meringue. “Would you mind washing that, please?”

“Why?”

Ire flares to life faster than you knew it could. You think your eye twitches.

“Why?” you repeat.

“Yeah.” Sirius turns to look at you over the kitchen counter, and the confusion is so plain on his face that it mollifies you slightly. “Can’t you do it?”

“Why would you assume I’m going to do it?”

He shrugs. “Because you like cleaning stuff, right?”

You force yourself to breathe in and out through your nose, but despite your best intentions, the words come out with a sharp edge. “Not really.”

Sirius actually blinks in surprise. “Oh. But I thought…you’re always saying Sunday is relaxing for you because it’s your cleaning day.”

“That’s because I like to have things be clean, Sirius. Not because I like cleaning.”

“Oh,” he says again, seeming somewhat lost. “Okay, I’ll just…wait, is that why all these dishes are in the sink? Have you been trying to tell me something?”

“Those are all yours.” You’re burning through your fury fast, and you know what will be left after it’s used up. But you’re not going to cry about this. You will not.

“I didn’t realize.” Sirius looks up at you, a crease forming between his brows. “I’m sorry, gorgeous, I had no idea. I just thought you liked doing them yourself.”

“It’s fine,” you say, but it’s not, and your voice is taking on a slight wobble despite your determination to keep it out. “I just…I wish you wouldn’t have assumed that I’d always do them for you. It kind of hurt my feelings that you never asked, or said thank you.”

“Aw, baby.” Sirius sets his plate down, coming around the counter. He hesitates a second, looking back at the pile. “I’m going to do those in a second, okay?” he reassures you before crossing the rest of the distance to where you sit on the couch. “I’m so sorry, gorgeous. I’m an idiot.”

You nod up at the ceiling, blinking to keep your tears from falling.

A ring-clad hand finds your shoulder, thumb rubbing into your collarbone. “Hey, just let it out.”

“No, I’m still—” you draw in a breath, and a tear slips down your cheek. “I’m still mad at you. Just ignore this. I don’t want to cry when we’re in a fight.”

“We don’t have to be in a fight,” he suggests. “I’m sorry for all of it, I was totally in the wrong. I didn’t mean to make you feel…baby, hey, would you look at me?”

You take a deep breath before you do, more tears falling as soon as gravity allows them. You try to ignore them, but Sirius sets a hand to each cheek, thumbing them away. He looks miserable, lips pressed into a thin line to hide his own discontent.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel unappreciated,” he says softly. “I do appreciate you. You do so many sweet things every day, and I appreciate them so much. But you’re right, I wasn’t appreciating how you were cleaning my dishes for me. I’m really sorry, sweetheart.”

It all feels really good to hear. Part of you wants to let him go on, but you have too many questions to stay quiet. “You never did your own dishes before, did you?”

His eyes drop to your shoulder, embarrassed. “No. I guess it might have been my mother, or we had some, like, help” —his face contorts as if the word tastes bitter in his mouth— “but I actually never asked who did them. Pretty fucked, huh?” You agree, but you play it down with a one-shouldered shrug. Sirius seems like he’s feeling guilty enough without your help. “And then in my last place, it was just James and I, so we used pretty much paper everything. No dishes to clean.” He shakes his head at himself, dismayed. “I never even thought about it. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I put that on you without even thinking.”

“It’s fine,” you reassure him. Then, at the look he gives you, “Okay, it wasn’t before, but I think it can be now. It was…a tad inconsiderate, but now you know, right?”

He nods determinedly. “Now I know. Promise.”

“And now you’re not just going to assume every woman in your life will do the housework for you?”

Despite your teasing tone, Sirius brings a hand to his face, his head lolling back despondently. “Fuck. I’m a real piece of shit, huh?”

“You were acting like one,” you say laughingly, reaching forward to give him an affectionate shake by the shoulder, “but you’re not.”

When he tilts his head towards you again, hair falling in his eyes, there’s still evidence of guilt lining his features but he seems to be trying to get back to his usual levity. He pouts at you, taking your face back between his hands. His rings are cool against your skin. “I can’t believe I made you cry because I’m too much of a prick to do my own dishes.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to cry.” You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “I don’t want your pity, Black.”

Sirius’ pout worsens, his thumbs stroking over your cheeks. “I can’t help it. You did weeks of unpaid labor.” He kisses the skin above your nose tenderly. “My sweet girl. You should have told me earlier.”

Your face warms a bit under his hands. “I did sort of take the petty route by letting your dishes pile up.”

“I’ve earned some petty treatment,” he says firmly. “You should have let my dishes pile up from the first day I moved in. You should have put them in my room so I’d have to ask about them. In my bed, under the sheets.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Jesus, I’m not that cruel. That’d be disgusting.”

“I know, baby,” Sirius laughs, pressing another kiss to the tip of your nose. “That’s because I’m the petty one. You’re just in training.”

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 5 months ago

Text

Further Celebrations

Word Count - 3200

Author's Note - I literally wrote this because these pictues of Matt at the parade did something to me. But since of life and starting/stopping this so much. I personally feel that it's probably the worst smut I've ever written. So if this the first thing your reading from my page please check out my other works. 🤣🤣 As always thank you for reading, I truly can't believe how much my blog has grown in such a little amount of time. 💞

Warnings - LOTS in general: dom!male/ sub!fem, daddy kink, lowkey breeding kink, unprotected p in v, as always for me LOTS of dirty talk, semi public sex (i think that is it if there are any I missed kindly send me a message and I will add it to the list)

Summary - something about watching Matt be a cocky asshole all day at the parade celebrating winning the Stanley Cup really does something to you.

Masterlist

You had no idea what it was, if it was just how cocky of an asshole Matt was being. Or maybe it was the fact that he was soaked in a mixture of beer and rain making his curls stand out more, which if you were sober you would think was kind of gross. But you’ve literally been pregaming since 10 AM, with Matt and the boys. Or maybe it was his shorts, leaving little to imagination. Honestly, it wouldn’t be the first time you sneak Matt into a random corner and have a quickie. But you were trying to be good and let him celebrate with his team one more time this week with the community at the parade about the fact they won for the first time in franchise history. Plus you knew this was the last time the team was going to be together before next season and who knew with free agency starting if this team would exist next season. But after hours of watching him walk around with the damn cup basically benching it above his arms, making his biceps strain. On top of how he looked so fucking hot with that cigar between lip fingers, beer in the other hand yelling at fans. Again his thighs on display, you knew that you wouldn’t last much longer without begging Matt to take you to the closet bathroom or storage closet.

It was now 8 at night and the whole team was out at some random dive bar. The music was blasting and you walked over to Matt mid conversation with Evan. Slowly take your hand and slide it down Matt’s chest, as you lean up and lightly pout due to being extremely drunk.“Matt,can we go dance please.” you give him the puppy dog eyes you know that go directly to his cock every single time.

“Yeah baby whatever you want.” obviously forgetting that Rodrigues was even standing there. As he let you lead him to the small make-shift dance floor some other players made by pushing some tables against the wall. He couldn’t his eyes as they watched your hips and curve of your ass move to the music as you walked further into the center of the dance floor.

You turned around and Matt literally pushed you flush to his chest.His hands were going to squeeze your hips making sure you stay close. His face went to your neck as he spoke softly to you and to hide the fact that he was leaving small wet kisses between his words. “Hey…darling…you…look so pretty… right now.” Slowly inching closer and closer to your ear. You slowly turn your head to look at your boyfriend, his eyes piercing back at you.

“Your drunk Matty” you can’t help the giggle let out and small hiccups. As you turn around in his arms your ass purposely rubbing against his cock, his arms quickly pulling you closer as he snakes them around you.

“Maybe…but so are you.” he whispers in your ear, but not before forgetting to spend extra time on that one spot on your neck. You attempt to turn around again but Matt’s arms tighten around you, obviously enjoying teasing the fuck out of you right now.

“please Matt.” you whisper, closing your eyes, momentarily forgetting where you guys are lost in your own little world.

“Hmmm” he lets out. “I’m not doing anything” he says in an innocent tone. Even without you seeing his face you knew he had a wicked massive smirk on his face.

“Matty..” turning your head trying to catch a glimpse of his face. As you grind harder on him, but it’s useless because it’s only making your need for him grow. “pl- please.. I can’t wait till we're home.” you say finally catching his eyes.He finally lets you turn around connecting your lips immediately.Your hands trying to go to the nape of his neck reaching for the ends of his curls, attempting to balance on the balls of feet as you fight for dominance. Obviously failing in both as you feel Matt bit your lip a little harsher than expecting making you open your mouth open in surprise giving him the chance to slip his tongue in your mouth.His hands go to your ass as he feels you almost lose your balance. He squeezes and kneads your ass like he’s wanted to since he walked over here with you.

You slowly pull apart to catch your breath after a few minutes. Matt’s hands don’t leave the curve of your ass, if anything they’re squeezing and kneading harder. “Tkachuk I am not being dramatic.” you say in the most serious tone he’s heard from you all day. The smile breaks out even further at his girlfriends 'seriousness.’ “But..” as you reach up to whisper in his ear, to make sure no one can hear you because you know you aren’t the most quiet when you're this drunk. “I have been thinking about all the ways you can make me cum in the bathroom before anyone even notices that we’re gone since we stepped foot into this bar.” As one your hands say in his hair pulling just hard enough to get a reaction. You can’t help but break out into a smile when you hear a small grunt from his lips.

“Oh yeah..” practically picking up ever so slightly off the ground so his cock can stay perfectly lined up against your pussy and going back to attack your neck. “And how would that work, princess. ya gotta be a good girl.” as he bites your sweet spot behind your ear.

“Fuck matty please, i need to feel you, anything.” you whine.

“Anything???” he asks in a deep voice full of lust.

“Please.” your eyes pleading with his eyes as they darken, filling with lust.

“Okay.” he says softly, pulling apart and going further to the back hallway. Thankfully no one was in the back hallway, when you both walked into the single stall bathroom.Not that Matt cared anymore only one goal in mind. As soon as you entered, he slammed you on the door locking it.

“You sure you can get off…with anything?” he asks the devilish smirk still hasn’t his mouth and raises his eyebrows in a curious way as he backs away from you.

“Please Matty, I'm already so close.” you beg as you reach for the zipper of your jean shorts.

“No.” he demands. But before you could ask what he meant. He answers for you. “Since you said you can get off with anything” as he steps forward, slowly picking up your Panthers' crop top pushing it up the bottom of your neck, to attack the top of your boobs. “Get off on my hand.” you reach for his hand to go inside your shorts. He lets out a sigh of frustration and backs away enough to look you in the eyes. “Damn it. Did you not hear me slut! Use my hand ONLY completely clothed. Grind on my hand and if you cum, then I’ll reward you with my cock. But if not.. then we're gonna be in here a long time baby girl.” as he goes to suck on the top of your left boob. Leaving small little nibs into between his next words. “A” nip “very” nip “very” nip “ long” time.” You’re practically a crying mess already as you reach to steady just on Matt’s bicep.

Closing your eyes trying to focus on the pressure his palm is giving you and turning into a whimpering mess. Each whimper makes Matt’s rock hard cock somehow even harder. Matt’s other hand holds you at your hip helping you find a steady rhythm. “ I am not that much of an asshole princess, I'll help you.” His eyes are also closing, moving his head to rest on the side of your neck, so he can whisper to you. “That’s it baby, God you so fucking beautiful riding my hand like a good girl.” Your only response whimpering as you move your hips faster to the sound of his voice. As you can feel all of him against your thigh. Naturally by rocking your hips, moving your thigh. The only response from him being a sharp hiss, “fuck baby, your so good for daddy.” His mouth sucking on your neck sure to leave a fresh bruise you won’t be able to hide from your friends outside. Matt gives your pussy a little squeeze as he leaves your neck. Your hands immediately go to his curls as you feel him go on his knees. His head linking perfectly with the hem of your crop top.

You open your eyes and look down at him through your eyelashes. As you feel that familiar knot in your stomach start to form. “Please daddy, I need ya- you. i - i can’t-” but before you can finish your whimpering attempt of making a coherent thought he stops you.

“I wish I could, baby but you said you could.” you whimper in protest as a response. As his hand on hip helps you go even just a little faster. “You can get daddy’s help after you cum babygirl.” As he goes to the top of your thighs teasing you with wet kisses. “I can feel your wet cunt on my hand and your shorts are still on. Your close princess and then I promise you can have my cock however you want it.” His words being your final push to finally cum your hands leaving his head to squeeze your boobs, your nipples begging for attention. “That’s it baby. Ride it out on my hand, there yeah go.” As he leaves a wet kiss where your clit is through your shorts. Finally feeling your breath coming down to a normal pace. Your hands go back to Matt’s hair and pull him by his curls back up to you to share a kiss filled with nothing but even more lust than before. Once you broke apart Matt said “i swear to god that was one of the hottest fucking things I’ve ever seen.” as he kissed your check softly, teasingly grazing his teeth along it.

“Matty..” you say pushing closer so you can grind down on his clothed cock. “I need you inside me.” you whisper in a way that makes Matt’s knees go weak. The way you literally had an organism less than a minute ago and you're already begging for his cock.

“I don’t have a condom babygirl.” grinding his hips along with yours adding to the pressure trying to give both of you some relief.

“Doesn’t matter” you mumble as your hands go under the back of his shirt scratching down the center of his back. While your mouth goes to the right below leaving his ear. “I don't care if you put a baby in me. I don’t care, I need you, please.”

“Fuck you wanna be all swollen with my baby in you huh?” he carries you over to sit on the sink as he pulls down his shorts and boxers just enough to slip his dick out of. You slowly shimmy out of your shorts as he walks back over to you pumping his cock with the precum leaking out. “Fuck babygirl, i can’t believe your letting me go bare.” as you lean back on the sink, your shoulders leaning against the mirror to give him more access. He pulls your shorts and underwear down to only your ankle. So that he can spread your legs more apart to give him even more access to your core. Your palms naturally flatten on the counter behind you to keep balance.

Taking his cock and slowly rubbing the tip up and down your folds before slowly pushing it in. Both of you are having a hard time keeping quiet now. “Fuck Matty you feel so good” you let out a sound that’s a mix of a moan and a scream as he starts thrusting inside of you. His thumb goes to your clit, the circular motions matching to the speed of his thrusts. “Fuck daddy” as you arch your back even more. Your hands stretch further apart adding to the pleasure of the new angle.

“Fuck baby” as he brings one of his hands to your throat, squeezing your throat just enough for the air to cut off to your brain for a seconds. The new sensation makes you feel nothing but pleasure. As you naturally clench your core due to the pure feeling of pleasure you feel lost in. It makes you wonder how long you're going to last. “You want a baby in you huh?” Only being able to shake your head yes. Obviously being the right answer. He pulls almost all the way out and then slams into you hitting your g-spot with thrust. He continues to repeat his deep thrusts as his hand on your throat continues to put slight pressure making your brian feel a good kind of fuzzy.

Just as you were about to tell Matt that you were close as you were starting to feel the familiar knots in the pit in your stomach and the tingling all over your body. A loud banging comes on the door and a male voice on the side “yo, the other bathroom is out of order! Hurry the fuck up I gotta piss.” Matt’s hand that was on your throat going to your mouth, as much as he loved the sweet noises you made the idea of another man, especially a stranger hearing made his body tense.

“Dude shut the fuck i’m busy take a piss in alley.” Matt yells back, not slowing down his pace at all. One of your hands going to his forearm knowing that you're leaving marks from deeply pressing your nails into his arm but neither of you cared in the moment. Not sure if the man left from in front of the door, Matt talks in a softer tone. “God I can feel you clenching around me, you like that huh?” only responding in whimpers. Now leaning down to your ear “god you're such a fucking whore getting off on the idea of being caught in public huh? You like that another man can hear how good my dick makes you feel.” All you do is nod, but apparently that’s not good enough of an answer.

“Answer me princess or I swear I will stop.” slowing down his movements, already teasing stop as he removes his hand from your mouth.

“Yes daddy. I like almost getting” a sharp whine lets out of your lips as the speed of his thumb on your clit increases. “C -caught.” you whisper out.

“Who’s the one who makes you feel this good huh?” he asks in a dominating tone ob

“ya you- daddy” you say another wave of pleasure taking over your body, “i- i am gonna cum.” you say throwing your head back.

“Uh uh uh what do you have to do, pretty girl.” his voice is deeper than you swear you’ve ever heard. “You know you gotta ask baby. Ask for me to let you cum and make you nice and full with mine.”

“Daddy please, please i need to cum i -, i need to be full with your cum please daddy.” you ask, tears spilling from your eyes as the pleasure is slowly becoming too much.

“You think you can be a good girl and go out there and sit all nice and full with my cum and no one will notice.” as he fastens his pace again, his thrusts becoming sloppier telling you that he’s close. You nod your head yes and his head goes to bite you softly on the flesh of your neck and shoulder.

You both cry out a mixture of curse words and moans of pleasure. You swear you felt like you almost blacked out as you felt yourself let go. Your body must have been more overstimulated then you realized because you squirted all over Matt’s cock.

“FUCK” he screamed as his hot cum shot so far up your pussy you swear you felt it hit your g spot lightly. As both of your breathing returns back to normal, Matt lifts his head back up. “Have you ever done that before baby?”

You knew he meant how you squirted all over. You look down feeling embarrassed all of a sudden “no.. i’m sorry matty i didn’t mean to.” He uses his index finger to lift your head so you're making direct eye contact.

“Hey hey” he coos “don’t apologize ever! I swear that was the hottest thing that’s ever happened and I am so glad that I got to share that with you. His forehead resting against yours “let’s go home and see if we can make you do it again.”As looks down and slowly pulls out of you catching any juices that might go legs, putting them to his lips. “Hmm we taste good together baby, wanna try.” you give him a nod and he puts his two fingers in your mouth and you moan around them.

Matt helps you stand and put your shorts back on as he slips his on as well. Before you even leave the bathroom he’s already ordering the uber to take it back to his house with one goal in mind making you squirt again. He unlocks the bathroom door pulling you by his hand leading you out the bar trying to sneak past everyone. But then you hear someone call him name.

“Tkachuk” you hear Rodigez again, “dude i’m glad i found you remember you taking the cup home so you can drop it off at the arena tomorrow.” He said, trying to pass the cup to Matt. He held it with his arm so effortlessly like it weighed nothing, his hand still in yours.

“Right, right thanks bro.” he says, pulling you out of the bar. As your walking to your uber he leans down to your ear “hey you know what would be really hot, fucking you from behind until you squirted again while the only thing you can grasp is the cup.” Your eyes widen as he continues to talk. “Wanna test my theory?” he asked as he ushered you both to the uber that just pulled up.

“For matthew?” the man asked as Matt opened the door.

“Yes.” he confirmed as he let you slide in first, then sitting the cup in the middle seat of the saden, finally sitting down himself. The uber driver immediately recognizes Matt and talks nonstop about how big of a fan he is. How happy he is that the Panthers won the Stanley Cup. All while Matt sneaked his arm behind the cup, up your inner thighs and lightly creased your clothed clit knowing you can’t make a single sound.

Matt continued talking to the driver as if he wasn’t doing anything at all. Finally at a red light turning to you and leaning down to you. “You alright baby?” loud enough for the driver to hear.

“Yeah” you say trying to make your voice sound an even tone as he moves his fingers add a bit more pressure.

“We'll be home soon. I know your tired bubs” he says as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “Too bad we're not gonna go to sleep.” A deep blush covering your face as Matt kisses your cheek as you think about all the possibilities for the night.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk smut #florida panthers fic #florida panthers smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hockey smut #nhl smut #nhl x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #matthew tkachuk imagine #schwritingsmt19

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year ago

Note

hii iris!! being one of my fav writers, i was wondering if it would be okay to please request you write something halloween related between Satoru and reader while they're in a lowkey relationship and instructors at jujutsu tech? maybe he drags reader and the students on some night of shenanigans? up to u, i just love how u write and i feel you'd kill this hehe

thank u so much! have an awesome day!

life's no fun without a good scare

summary: you have the brilliant idea of playing hide and seek in a corn maze against the most powerful sorcerer in the world. should be fun, right?

wc: 2.6k

cw/tags: fluff and crack and crack and fluff, established relationship, swearing (a lot of it, you'll see why lol), mentions of eating, angst if you squint, co-parenting megumi AND his friends!!

note: AAAA hi!! thank you so much for the love omg :')) i hope you like this, i definitely enjoyed writing it even though i did get a tad carried away lol. GOD this was so fun to write, thank you for suggesting it

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3 thank you for your support!!

“I’m going to eat so much candy, I’ll throw up.”

“What’re those tubs over there?”

“They’re for waterboarding Itadori,” Megumi deadpans without hesitation, clearly misrepresenting the apple bobbing game just ahead. You state his name warningly, like he was six years old again, and he mutters a half-hearted apology under his breath. “Maybe we switch out the victim for our esteemed teacher, instead.” You cover a snort with an unsuccessful cough. Even though you’d practically raised him, his jabs at Satoru never lost their humor.

“Your suggestion will be taken into careful consideration,” you say, “though it will become more of a possibility if he continues to run on Satoru-time.” Nobara hums in agreement, kicking a stray piece of hay with her toe while you continue to progress through the general admission line to the pumpkin patch. Your fashionably-late boyfriend had sent you a very cryptic text at noon, instructing you to “pack up the kids and take them to the following address.” When you replied with a chain of question marks, he sent an infuriatingly unserious GIF that had you pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What time did he tell you?”

“5:00.” You check your phone preemptively, already anticipating the followup question.

“And what time is it now?”

“5:20,” you sigh, sliding your card across the shelf of the ticket booth and receiving four orange wristbands in return. After slipping them onto the wrists of your three unofficial children, Itadori and Nobara immediately disappear into the crowd; Megumi, however, stays plastered to your shoulder and makes his distaste for the bustling festival known. You scan nearby groups of people for a tall idiot with white hair with no luck. If Satoru still showed up, he would have to pay for admission himself. “Let’s grab a table and find me a bottle of soju–”

“Barely twenty minutes and you’re already drinking? Since when did Shoko replace my lovely partner?” Satoru’s sing-song voice calls out from behind you, like he’d been standing with you the entire time. Despite your attempts to remain irritated at him, you can’t resist when he turns you around, lacing his fingers with yours and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. “Hi, gorgeous. What took you so long?”

“I assumed you were running late, like you always do,” you argue futilely, the world melting away when you catch his eyes over the rims of his sunglasses. “Is this not too overwhelming for you? Having so many energy signatures in one place?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures you with a confident wave of his hand. “After all, I have your energy to ground me.” Your legs start to feel a bit gelatinous when you hear a very obvious throat clearing itself and suddenly remember that Megumi is still standing there. “Shouldn’t you be on the playground or something, my dear student?”

“Shouldn’t you be on the playground or something, my questionable teacher?” You burst out laughing and your boyfriend’s jaw drops in indignance, gearing up to say something just as childish. On instinct, you cover his mouth with your hand, recoiling in disgust when his tongue darts out to lick your palm. “Gross. I’m gonna find my friends.”

“Don’t do anything dumb!” The boy waves his hand dismissively and you roll your eyes. In a different universe where he actually was the child of you and Satoru, he had his father’s sass gene.

“He’s used to this by now, isn’t he?” Satoru chuckles and it reverberates against your body, making your head spin in lovesick circles.

“I’d imagine so, seeing as we did raise him like this,” you answer, letting him start to guide you toward whatever stand interests him first, his arm draped over your shoulders. “Do you think Yuuji and Nobara have figured it out?”

“If Megs hasn’t told them, then definitely not,” he states with utmost certainty, looking over one of the games with all the concentration of a hunting tiger. In the middle of the stall was a large pool of water, and swirling around in it were small, colorful bowls in the shape of blooming flowers. The goal, you guessed, was to land a small ball in a certain color and get a corresponding prize from the lineup hanging overhead. It was truly an enticing array of stuffed animals, too, from wolves and monkeys to dinosaurs and little princess dolls. “Which one do you want?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“Choose a prize and I’ll get it for you, guaranteed.”

“Guaranteed? You do know these are designed to scam you, right?”

“And I am designed to do whatever you want, so take your pick.” After a moment of consideration, you point to a stuffie of a black cat wearing a pumpkin costume. “Cute choice.”

“It reminds me of Megs.” He laughs and pulls his arm back, stretching his neck from side to side and handing a few dollars to the game attendant. It was all for show and completely unnecessary, and he knew that; he also knew that his over-the-top shenanigans always made you laugh after a stressful week. Whether you knew it or not, he’d noticed you were increasingly overwhelmed by all the work from the previous days, specifically regarding training his students while he was off on an assignment. Along with completing your own missions, you were supervising the three first years and guiding them through boring paperwork, which he knew made you feel like shit. It’s why he suggested you go to the festival in the first place, to get your mind off of work and spend time with you. And, he’d be damned if he didn’t get you that fuzzy little cat on his first try.

“Watch the master at work, sweetheart,” is the last thing he says before carefully tossing the first of three balls toward the only purple bowl in the pool. He’s the tiniest bit off, though, and he curses under his breath as it ricochets against the edge and into the water. “That was a practice shot.”

“Sure, baby, sure,” you giggle, stifling your amusement into a fist. His tongue peeks out the side of his mouth in absentminded focus and you’re sure he’s found the perfect arc when the voice of one of his students cheers from behind you.

“You’ve got this!” Despite their well wishes, Yuuji and Nobara accidentally timed their cheers at the precise moment his fingers let go of the ball, messing up his aim even worse than the first time. They deflate in embarrassment and Megumi’s face turns red from trying not to laugh. The usual deadly aura radiating off of him increases tenfold and it makes you shiver despite the warm autumn air. “T-Third time’s the charm, sir!”

“Fucking hell, why do I even bother–”

“Satoru, that’s cheating,” you whisper, sensing him imbuing the tiniest amount of Cursed Energy into the last ball to easily manipulate its trajectory. “I can just buy the thing online; you don’t need to be doing all of this.”

“I can buy you anything online, but I also want to prove that I’m better than everyone else,” he mutters much too seriously than the situation required. “Plus, once I win that damn cat, it’ll have a nice story to go behind it.”

“Your ego truly knows no bounds.”

“You know you love it.”

A minute later, you’re walking away from the game with the fuzzy cat in your arms and Satoru’s arrogant smirk by your side. The rest of the night is spent watching him drag his students into various inflatable obstacle courses and tumbling down the slide after they push him over the edge. In spite of all the excitement, you have to drag them to a picnic table to sit and eat; even then, the three students challenge their teacher to a funnel cake eating contest. To no one’s surprise, Yuuji wins by a landslide.

Satoru pays for everything, of course. When someone wanders over to a game booth, he pays for their game every single time and continues to pay until they win a prize. By the end of the night, all five of you have at least one prize in your possession and Satoru’s bank account is barely affected.

Before the fair closes, you propose a game of hide and seek in the gigantic corn maze. You and the three students would get a five minute head start, and then Satoru would enter and race to find you before you reached the other side. The first years’ eyes shine with excitement when you tell them they can use techniques as long as they don’t make a mess. You consider throwing a veil over the entire thing, just to make sure Megumi’s dogs don’t start any rumors of hellhounds in the area.

“If the kids can use theirs, then you’re not allowed to use your technique,” Satoru concludes and you make a noise of indignation while you gameplan by the entrance of the maze. “Don’t start with me; that’s totally fair!”

“I don’t understand how that’s fair in any way,” you argue up at his ridiculously confident smirk. You wanted to slap him and make out with him at the same time, none of which would have been appropriate in present company.

“You make portals, sweetheart. If we’re making the maze a no-fly zone and I run into one of your doorways, I’m gonna be in there for the rest of time.”

“I’ll just make simple doors!”

“The last time you said that, I was stuck on a mountain for three hours,” he reminds you and you huff in defeat, completely forgetting the three pairs of eyes watching this entire conversation. Sweetheart? Since when did he call anyone sweetheart? Nobara and Yuuji knew that you both were friends from high school, but the bickering seemed suspiciously akin to that of an old married couple. They glance at their spiky haired friend for confirmation of their theories, but he avoids their gaze and continues munching on pumpkin spice popcorn. “Alright, five minutes on the clock. Don’t let me catch you,” he smiles wickedly and you all but shove the three students into the maze.

In a blink, Megumi summons his dogs and sends them to look for the exit. As you sprint down straightaways, Nobara intermittently sticks a few nails into the walls, essentially creating security sensors that will trigger if Satoru passes by it. It also helps establish what paths you’ve already explored and where you need to go next. In what feels like seconds, five minutes is gone and your heart drops as you see a black veil descend over the maze. The atmosphere of the maze feels electric, like wind before a storm, and you nervously laugh and urge the students to move faster.

“So, are we ever going to talk about you and Gojo?”

“That’s what you’re focused on right now?” You shoot back in amusement and Nobara shrugs, sending another nail into the corn with a strike of her hammer. “I don’t think this is the proper place to have this conversation!”

“So, are you two actually dating? Megumi won’t say anything, but he’s a terrible liar when we ask if he knows something!”

“I think the latter shooting ominous strikes of lightning into the air is a more pressing issue!”

“Lightning strikes which, I’ll add, are increasingly getting closer!” Yuuji’s voice rises to a panicked yelp and you curse in disbelief as your group slams into another dead end, giggling from sheer fear and swatting the students to find another way. All the while, blasts of pure Cursed Energy fly upward like fireworks, illuminating the field in terrifying shades of blue and red. “Any status on the nails?”

“He just passed the third one closest to us,” Nobara reports, face slowly losing color as the most powerful sorcerer in the world hunts you down. “You can’t send Nue to stall him?”

“You think a bird is going to stop Gojo Satoru?”

“Well, your damn dogs haven’t come back yet and we’re running out of options–” The back-and-forth is cut short by a faint howl coming from the back right corner of the maze, just a few hundred yards away. One of the dogs appears from the floor, hooking a sharp right turn that has you four stumbling to catch up to it. The howls continue, as do the strikes of lightning, while you follow the dog to what you assume is the exit. “The nails haven’t picked up his energy signature in a while,” Nobara informs you in slight relief while the howling grows closer with every step. Yuuji’s mouth breaks into a victorious grin, but you and Megumi aren’t convinced.

“Does that mean we lost him? Or did he get lost?”

“Something doesn’t feel right,” you mutter low enough for only Megumi to hear and he nods in agreement. “I don’t feel him anywhere.”

“That cracking behind us is just the corn, right?” Yuuji’s voice becomes uncertain and the static in the air only becomes more palpable. You’re so close to the exit and you can tell he’s getting nearer, but something in your gut tells you that you can beat him. But, Nobara’s realization makes your blood run cold.

“Wait, I don’t sense any of my nails anymore–”

“Found you.”

Your throats rip a collectively brutal screech as Satoru’s voice seems to come from directly behind you, and you glance backward to only see a pair of knife-sharp blue eyes staring through the black corridor of the maze. Colorful curses of fear babble from the mouths of the students and you slam your feet even harder into the ground as you sprint for the exit. The bright lights of the pumpkin sign were in sight; you just had to make it a little farther.

“Elephant, elephant, elephant!” Yuuji’s suggestion comes out as incoherent yelps and he tries to fire off black flashes to no avail. Megumi looks at him like he’d grown four new limbs.

“What?!”

“Summon the fucking elephant, Fushiguro!” A nail rockets away behind you only to be immediately sent back, embedding itself in the husk by your feet.

“I hate to break it to you, but the elephant isn’t going to do anything when–”

“When I’m already right behind you,” he whispers directly into your ear and you scream as his footsteps line up with yours and his arms snake under your legs, lifting you off the ground like you weighed no more than a cotton ball. He disappears with you into darkness, firing off a single precise attack that cuts the lights of the entire exit so that the path is pitch black. Somehow, you end up outside of the maze while the three students continue to panic inside and he gently sets you on your feet. His menacing aura disappears in a blink and he nuzzles his nose into your neck, his arms holding you close by your waist. “I found you,” he says with a smile.

“You did. I know you always do, eventually.”

“Mhmm. Did you have fun?”

“Honestly, that was the most terrifying experience of my entire existence,” you laugh, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging him even closer. He chuckles warmly, ironically just as quiet as the fearful bickering of your students in the maze. You barely feel any sweat on his forehead against your shoulder and you can’t even imagine how messy you looked after running for your life. “I look like shit, don’t I?”

“You’ve never looked prettier,” he murmurs, pulling away briefly to press a kiss to your cheek. “We should probably go grab the kids.” You hum absentmindedly, vaguely making out the voices of Megumi and Yuuji trying to figure out which way to go.

“Stay here a little longer. Let them think you’ve taken me away to your scary vampire lair, or something.”

“As you wish, sweetheart. I'll be your scary vampire anytime.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #ask iris!

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nephalem-da · 2 months ago

Note

Hiiii the request you wrote (sarcastically yours) was so cute and I really loved the gender neutral non description of the reader like somebody else pointed out in the comments too.

I have another idea/request if you happen to be up for it.

Bill x gn!reader who is touch starved and had a terrible week. When Bill pops up to cause trouble they just snag him from mid air and trap him a hug as they lay down to cuddle him if he wanted to or not.

Over all mood can be kind of reader being tired and not taking shit or giving any fucks while he quirms in their hold, complaining and threatening them dramatically because how dare they just cuddle him? And why does he feel strangely cozy?

Anyway, thanks again for bringing the first request to life <3

Have a lovely day!!!

Caught In A Hug

(Bill Cipher x GN!Reader)

Enjoy!

Genre: Humor, Fluff, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warning: Emotional exhaustion, Bill's chaotic behavior (mentions of bugs, fire, etc.), Light angst, fluffy ending.

Summary: After a rough week, you're too tired to deal with Bill Cipher's antics. When he appears, you pull him into an unexpected cuddle, ignoring his dramatic protests.

After an exhausting week, all you wanted was some peace, but of course, Bill Cipher had other plans. The chaotic dream demon had been popping in unannounced, causing trouble like always. But tonight, you were done. When he appeared mid-air, ready to start his usual antics, you didn’t hesitate. Reaching up, you snagged him from the air, pulling him into a firm embrace as you collapsed onto the couch.

“What the—HEY! What do you think you’re doing?” Bill’s voice was loud, his single eye widening in surprise as he flailed in your arms. “Let go of me, fleshbag! I’m the all-powerful Bill Cipher! You think you can just—HEY!”

You ignored his dramatic outburst, too tired to care about the dream demon's protests. Your arms tightened around his floating form as you sighed, settling deeper into the cushions. “Not today, Bill. I’ve had a really crappy week, and I just need this. You can complain all you want, but you’re not going anywhere.”

His yellow, triangular body squirmed against you, and his eye darted around, probably plotting some chaotic retaliation. “Oh, you’re gonna regret this! I’ll make bugs crawl out of your cereal! I’ll—ACK! Hey, are you even listening?!”

“Nope,” you muttered, eyes already half-closed as you buried your face into his smooth form, not bothering to think about how weird it was to be cuddling a literal demon triangle. “You’re warm. Kinda cozy too.”

Bill sputtered. “Cozy? ME? You’ve got some nerve! I’m a nightmare, a terror, an all-knowing force of the universe! And you—you—let go right now, or I’ll—” His threats trailed off as you shifted slightly, adjusting your grip to pull him closer.

He wriggled, floating slightly above you but still locked tight in your hug. “You really have no idea who you’re messing with, do ya? This is gonna end badly for you, I swear—Hey, stop nuzzling me! What’s wrong with you?!”

“Bill,” you grumbled, barely opening your eyes. “I’m too tired for your drama. Just… be quiet for a bit. I’m not letting go.”

There was a pause. You felt him stiffen, probably trying to figure out how to react to the situation. You couldn’t tell if he was more annoyed, confused, or horrified that you dared to trap him in such a mundane, human gesture.

“This is so beneath me,” he grumbled under his breath, though his voice had lost some of its earlier venom. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. Normally, I’d make you regret this for eternity.”

You snorted softly, tightening your hold slightly. “Sure, Bill. Whatever you say.”

The room was quiet for a while after that. You could still feel Bill’s occasional squirm as if he couldn’t decide whether to break free or not. His eye darted around, and you could tell he was struggling with the situation—partly because it was so mundane, and partly because… well, he wasn’t used to this. Who would hug a literal chaotic being?

Bill’s grumbling gradually faded into silence, and you felt him settle in your arms. Despite his earlier protests, he wasn’t putting in much effort to escape anymore. It was almost as if he was… relaxing?

You could feel his energy pulsing slightly against you, warm and oddly comforting. It was bizarre, really—cuddling Bill Cipher of all beings. But right now, with how drained you felt from the week, it was exactly what you needed.

A while passed before Bill spoke again, his tone a little quieter and far less aggressive than before. “This doesn’t mean anything, got it? Don’t go thinking I’ve gone soft or anything.”

“Mmhm,” you mumbled, too close to sleep to argue. “Sure.”

“And I’m only letting this happen because you’re clearly too weak to handle my usual brilliance,” he continued, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “But just wait. I’ll make you regret it. I’ll turn all your furniture upside down, make your mirrors talk back—maybe even—”

You interrupted him by shifting slightly, pulling him even closer. Bill went silent, his body tense in your arms again as if he wasn’t sure how to react. After a few beats, he let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “You’re impossible.”

Despite his words, Bill didn’t move. In fact, he moved a bit closer, his usual chaotic energy now strangely subdued. For someone who thrived on chaos and destruction, being held like this clearly wasn’t something he understood—or was used to. And yet, he didn’t pull away.

The longer the silence stretched, the more you noticed a subtle shift in Bill’s attitude. His squirming had stopped, and while he still made the occasional sarcastic comment, his usual snark had softened into something more… tentative.

“Alright, fine,” he muttered at last. “But don’t think this is a regular thing. This is a one-time deal, got it? You try this again, and I’ll—”

“Mmhm,” you repeated, your voice sleepy. “Whatever you say, Bill.”

Bill grumbled something unintelligible, but his protests were far less forceful now. His body felt warm and secure in your arms, and despite all his complaints, he hadn’t made any real effort to escape.

As your breathing slowed, you couldn’t help but notice a strange, unfamiliar comfort in his presence. Bill Cipher, the all-powerful, terrifying demon, was somehow… calming? Cozy, even.

And though he’d never admit it, you had a feeling he didn’t hate this as much as he was pretending to.

“You’re still going to regret this,” he muttered, though his voice was softer now, almost tired.

“Sure, Bill,” you whispered, finally drifting off to sleep, still holding him close. “Whatever you say.”

And for once, Bill Cipher didn’t argue back.

#bill cipher x reader #gravity falls #the book of bill #bill cipher #fluff #mutual pining #touch starved #tired

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merrygay · 9 months ago

Text

“Ah ah… What did you say ?”

Alastor x reader

Warning : NSFW, Dacryphilia, Dark Themes, cannibalism, Alastor is a Warning himself. English is not my first language. I’m bad at writing synopsis. I’m bad at writing in general in fact.

Synopsis : Innocent reader tries to make a deal with Vox in order to protect herself from Alastor.

Other : Lovely ; Alastor x reader

(Sorry for the long delay, college is kicking my ass)

————————————————————————

It’s been a week since the incident with Alastor happened, he hadn’t touched you since or even come your way.

Though you still tried to avoid him like the plague, every time you saw him, around the corner, in the living room, anywhere, you just quickly run away for dear life.

You were scared, what if this time he eats you for good ? What if he does the same thing he did last time and then proceed to eat you at the same ? You were getting paranoid at this point.

Seeing your small figure scare away from him like the pretty prey that you are made him grin even wider. He was clearly enjoying this, enjoying you, at first he hated that he lost control to a miserable thing like you, but as time passes the idea of a plaything didn’t seem to bother him anymore, especially when he was this hungry.

You've tried to forget what happened, you've really tried, but every night when you're alone in bed, you can't help yourself.

The pulsating feeling between your legs won’t stop, oh poor you, it gets even worse when the image of his head between your legs becomes clearer, his tongue unashamedly licking the most intimate part of your body, making a mess of himself with your juices as they drip from your sensitive pussy while you moan and whimper.

An innocent thing like you can’t even understand why you are feeling like this.

You rub your thighs to cease the sensation the same sensation you felt when he did this forbidden thing to you but it doesn’t work, you keep whining until you finally fell asleep.

You had to find a solution and quick, you don’t know when he’s going to jump on you again and this time eat you for good.

So Here you were, in front of the building of nonetheless than the Vees. It was a dumb idea let’s be honest here. Each step you take to get closer to the doors makes your heart beats faster. Making a deal with Vox must be better than being killed by Alastor right ? Right ?

“You want me to do what now ?”

The man in front of you, with a flat-screen TV for a face, looked at you as if you'd said the stupidest thing in the world.

“Why would I make a deal with an employee of this stupid fucking hotel huh ?”

You swallow nervously at his answer, playing with your fingers as you try to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I-I need to make a deal with you because I heard you are the only one who is as strong as Alastor-“

Vox smiles widen as he seems to like the compliment, “Ahah. Go on, continue I don’t have the whole fucking day” he says tapping against his office table.

You then proceed to explain, trying to avoid some of the… more embarrassing details.

he begins to laugh… laugh ? Why is he laughing ?

“You’re telling me that you are the new toy of Alastor”

He pauses for a second smiling devilishly while looking at you from head to toe

“You know what I’ll make deal with you, stealing Alastor fucking food is much more fun I can’t wait to see the face of this old prick when-”

His TV face starts to vibrate, you could see it was one of the other Vees calling. He puts the call in one of his other TV.

“Hello there, Velvet. How are you this Hellish morning”, in stark contrast to Vox lively greeting, Velvet response was one of pure annoyance.

“Cut the shit vox, i need you up here NOW. Your little boy toy is wracking my department while I tried to put together a show !”

Other voices could be heard behind her notably Valentino’s who was cursing around, yelling and destroying the entire department. Velvet ends the call without giving Vox any chance to say something.

Vox’s smiling face drops, he lets out a loud sigh.

“Here I was.. excited for something… anyway come this afternoon, so we can finalize our deal, I have a fire to put out upstairs”

With that, you leave the building, and quickly go back to the hotel avoiding the sinners running around and killing each other.

You open the doors, but it's strangely quiet - maybe they've gone out, you wonder. You climb the stairs back to your room, but when you finally reach the corridor, you suddenly hear a static sound.

“Are you still going to avoid me hmm ?”

You hear that familiar voice, filtered through the radio, with that all-too-familiar smile. He appeared right in front of you. You flinch and take a few steps back, your legs ready to run in the opposite direction.

He chuckles, his smile widening, awnnn how cute, you're still this scared of him.

“Now now don’t be scared, I just want to have a little chat with you” he says while turning around. Alastor was now walking towards your room Insinuating you to follow him.

“N-no ! I’m not going to, you should stay away from me, I made a deal with Vox !”

As those words settles in, the corridor seemed to shrink, suffocating you in a claustrophobic embrace.

The lights starts to flicker casting grotesque shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

A sudden chill permeated the air, causing goosebumps to rise on your already trembling skin.

“Haha.. What did you say ?” His voice took on a deeper timbre through his radio filter.

An oppressive weight settled over the corridor, squeezing the breath from your lungs and filling your minds with irrational fear.

He turns to you, his predatory eyes shining through the flickering lights. Each step seemed to echo with ominous intent while he grew taller and taller and his antlers increased in size.

"Do you really think he can keep me away from you? I don't think you really understand the situation you're in, my dear… You're my plaything, my prey and my meal. If you utter those stupid words again... I'll end Vox's life and broadcast his screams for every disrespectful wreck who dares to take what's MINE”

You were on the floor, you shaky legs were to weak to stand on their own, while Alastor’s glowing eyes pierced through your soul.

"Have I made myself clear?" He asks, leaning slightly so that his face is close to yours. You nod, lips pressed together, too scared to speak.

He tilted his head, his eyes softened, but the smirk that played on his lips refused to yield, a silent mockery that belied his gentle gaze.

In stark contrast to the anger that had consumed him mere moments ago, his voice now returned to its normal tone as he uttered the words “good girl” while petting your head.

The transition was jarring, as if a storm had suddenly given way to a calm, clear sky, leaving those around him bewildered by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

He straighten up and turns his back to you “Come now, I don’t know for you my dear but all that action has worked up quite an appetite, I'm absolutely famished !” he chuckles darkly as he starts walking towards your room.

He didn't give you time to get up, as one of his tentacles wrapped itself around your waist forcefully.

Next thing you know, Alastor was sitting at the edge of your bed, you straddling his lap facing him, with only your bra and skirt remaining still while your shirt was torn on the floor.

“You are terrible liar” Alastor force you to look at his smirking face.

“You didn’t make any deal .. yet” as he states those words without any warning he bites your neck, you let out a cry of surprise, you tried to get away, pushing him away in vain, he had one firm hand placed on your hips his claws digging in harder and harder each time you moved. Ironically his other hand holds yours in a romantic embrace, your fingers intertwined to his.

“Stay still, or I will devour you. You have no idea how much I’m restraining myself right now little one”, he can't help it, it's been a week since he's tasted you, since he's bitten your pretty little body, everything about you drives him crazy, your smell ahh your smell.

He goes back to your neck this time nestling there, inhaling deeply and then proceed to lick the spot he bit earlier, licking up the blood, his tongue started to go down, until he reached your breasts still covered with your bra, he looks up at you, smirking.

You were a trembling mess, your emotions swirled like a tempest, fear tightening your chest with every breath, embarrassment flooding your cheeks with a telltale blush. Yet amidst the chaos, a stirring of arousal sent shivers along your back, a well too familiar feeling between your thighs started to show up much to your dismay.

His hand, which was on your hips moved with a slow, deliberate, grace, gradually tracing a path upwards, each caress sending shivers down your spine until it reached the delicate lace of your bra.

His eyes were still staring into yours, drinking in your every reaction as his claws ripped the clasp of your bra, freeing your breasts for his hungry eyes to see.

You tried to cover them with your hand but He withdraws it “a-a”, he says sarcastically before his tongue trace a sensual path along your neck, gradually venturing lower and lower, your breath came in shallow gaps, each inhalation tinged with anticipation.

He finally reaches your chest, his tongue tracing precise circles around your nipples, you try to stifle your moans with your hand, but he suddenly bites your breast, making you cry out his name as he chuckles.

He continues for a while without ever ceasing to lick and bite, his hand still intertwined with yours, as you keep whimpering.

He was getting excited each sounds that came out of your mouth made him feral making his antlers grow and his eyes took on a predatory gleam, a never stopping hunger.

Without Warning, he forcefully lifted you from his lap, abruptly changing position as he pushed you down onto the bed, he slid your legs up onto his shoulders, giving him access to your thighs which he didn’t wait a minute before biting on it much more harder this time making you yelp in pain.

You watch his shark like teeth digging into the flesh of your skin, eliciting a crimson flow that trickled down you thigh, his tongue darted out to lap at the blood pooling around the wound, hungrily savoring again the metallic tang of the fluid.

“P-Please stop” you begged, tears rolling down your cheeks. He ignores your plead instead he keeps going, biting your other thigh, licking it and then taking another bite, while he slowly gets closer to your cunt.

His fingers played with the edge of your damp panties, teasing you. Your pussy was dripping wet. Your scent was intoxicating, everything about you was intoxicating, the way he was ruining you, both physically and mentally turned him on even more.

He abruptly ripped out your panties, your pussy was now exposed to him, it took him a lot of restraint for him not to eat you right fucking now, just like before.

His index finger teased a delicate trail along your belly, he descended lower his nail traced a deliberate scratch along your skin, igniting a surge of desire that pulsed through your vein.

You weren’t supposed to feel like this, but instead of hating it, you were desperate, one part you wanted him to touch your pussy, make you feel the same feeling of just pure bliss, and the other part, fear just pure fear.

“P-Please don’t go any lower” you plead again each word punctuated by a stifled sob, but it was too late, the demon before you was too intoxicated by your scent, by your wetness, your whole body really.

Again your pretty little mind had no idea about the struggle he was going through right now, struggling to restrain his cannibalistic impulses, and hearing your cries wasn’t helping at all, in the contrary, he derived such pleasure from your tears.

The way your puffy eyes would look at him, lips cutely pressed together, face flushed ahhh don’t blame him for acting out while you look this delicious.

“I want your soul” the demon says, before his finger applied gently pressure to your sensitive button, making you gasp in pleasure, he stroked circular motions over your clit heightened the pace, while watching your face which was trying not to moan but failed miserably.

“Let’s make a deal”, you were surprised by his sudden request “w-what” you stutters out, is he really suggesting it now ? Like right now in the middle of that ?

You couldn’t think straight you were too absorb by the pleasure he was providing you, you shake your head no, which made him stopped his movements making you whine, you look up at him, with that desperate look on your face.

Suddenly, he thrusts two fingers inside you, causing you to let out a moan of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

Alastor didn’t like the way you reacted to his request and it showed, as he pushes his fingers in and out with a forceful intensity.

He easily found your sweet spot, not letting you the time to process anything, you were a moaning mess at this point, clutching the sheets, fingers digging into the fabric while you begged him to slow down it was all too much for you.

“I will take you under my wig, and in exchange your soul would be mine forever” he declares.

Oh how ironic was it ? The problem himself proposing you this offer, it’s not like this morning you were literally trying to find a solution to get away from him.

You couldn’t reply back, only moans came out of that pretty mouth of yours making him chuckle, the intense heat that was building inside you, ready to be released at any moment was making you dizzy.

And then

He stops

Completely

Leaving you in a state of desperate longing, denied the released you craved.

“A-Alastor” you keep whining, moving your hips desperately.

“Accept my deal… just let it go” you couldn’t resist anymore you needed this so badly, you finally nod which made Alastor’s smile became more sinister as he starts to push his fingers in and out again, each stroke hitting your sweet spot harder, his other free hand comes towards yours to take, “it’s a deal then ?”.

The atmosphere changed drastically, Alastor form was becoming more demonic but you couldn’t care less at this point fear already consumed you, you were too absorb on reaching your climax now.

You hold his hand, nodding eagerly, moaning out a yes, and that’s all he needed to hear. Before you know it a collar appeared around your neck its chain dangling freely for Alastor to hold, which he does.

His fingers was buried deep inside your pussy while his other hand grasped the chain of your collar, you were his now forever there’s no going back.

Your body quivered with anticipation as you were reaching you peak, your tried to speak but your words were incoherent, but Alastor knew what you were about to say.

He suddenly buried his face between your legs, his fingers remaining inside you pumping in and out rapidly, while his tongue was devouring your pussy as if each taste was his last.

Your arched your back and with a shuddering gasp your body convulsed letting waves of pleasure washing over you, your moans getting louder as you finally came.

Your juices were all over his mouth and fingers. He eagerly took all in swallowing it without hesitation, while you were laying there panting and whimpering trying to regain some sense.

Alastor straighten himself, pulling out his fingers and bringing it to his mouth to lick it clean while fixing you with an intense gaze.

After regaining some sort of composure, a flicker of realization crossed over your features “n-n-n-noo what have I done !”, your voice rise in panic as you seat up, which made Alastor laugh with mockery each chuckle making you realize even more in what situation you were in now.

You tried to get off the bed but the grip that had Alastor on the chain held you firmly in place.

“Oh my dear, but I’m not done yet” he says before slamming you back into the bed.

Indeed he wasn’t done yet.

———————————————————————

It’s 3 am and I hope what I wrote made sense

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin alastor

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carnalcervidae · 10 months ago

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There’s definitely something to be said about weight gain kink stuff engaging in the stereotypes around fatness in order to reclaim it but sometimes? Sometimes a fic just takes every fatphobic myth about dieting for granted. It’s hard to explain, i guess. There’s a difference between a fic where, say, a humiliation thing is involved and the character experiences some amount of conflict between liking/accepting their body and the general views of society, and then there’s fics where actually, the characters fully believe every fatphobic thing, but are fat anyways, and very little if any pleasure seems to be derived from this for anyone except supposedly the reader.

Like i’m reading a fic right now that seems to basically buy into the idea that dieting works, and once the characters have their lives in order they’ll totally just diet. But like, diets don’t work. The vast majority of people either don’t lose weight long-term or gain back more weight than they ever lost. Of course, in the fic, they’re setting up a punchline about how they’ll promise they’ll diet and then get fatter anyways. But this whole line of “should i diet?” Doesn’t even spur any kind of self-reflection on, say, “what do i want for my body? Do i like my body? Do i even want to diet? Do i like my life how it is?”

I guess in short i don’t like fat/weight gain fics that only ever view weight gain as a problem, even as a reader or writer derive pleasure from their bodies.

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exactlycleverpirate · 10 months ago

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What happened to Lemuria and Rafayel?

A mix of facts and theory. I try to quote where I got stuff from in the game, but let me know if something is unclear.

This is a monster. For TLDR, jump down to the bold words, as this sums up the general idea of this post.

SPOILERS for Main Story, Anecdote 3, and some Memories.

(MS stands for Main Story)

What we know:

Rafayel is Lemurian (Ebb and Flow and MS Chapter 7)

As a child, a long long time ago*, he lived in a Lemurian community in the ocean, specifically in the Deep Sea. He would sneak away from his home to explore the ocean and the surface world. (Nightly Stroll, Whalefall Lament, Ocean At Night).

*(What is a long, long time ago? 10-15 years? 800 years? He says his age is “24…probably” (promotional video). What does that mean? Has he forgotten exactly when he was born or is he alluding to the fact that he is much older? He made his vow to MC when they were both children (MS Chapter 7.11). Was that current MC or a previous reincarnation of her? If current, then he must be actually around 24. If a previous life of MC, then he could easily be 800 or more.)

Lemuria was believed to be mythical, and/or to have disappeared thousands of years ago. It was confirmed to really exist when, on December 31st, 2034 (the same year the Deepspace Tunnel appeared and the Chronorift Catastrophe occured), a tsunami and earthquake southeast of Linkon opened a rift in the ocean, revealing an ancient Lemurian city (MS, in-game article, and promotional video). When asked how he can be alive today if Lemuria disappeared thousands of years ago, Rafayel says to think of him as “a lost pearl that washed up on the beach”.

Other Lemurians are still alive. Rafayel’s Aunt Talia appears to be a Lemurian herself (his only remaining family) as she has known him a long time, knows about Lemurian ceremonies and other Lemurians, etc. In 2047, a Lemurian named K died. Rafayel attended his Seamoon Ceremony (essentially a funeral of sorts, returning him to the ocean to pass on and return to the water from whence he came), as did other remaining Lemurians (Anecdote 3).

Now that we have that foundation to work with, let’s start with Louis’ Tale in Anecdote 3.

For the sake of argument, I am going to assume that Louis got most of the story right, since Rafayel doesn’t contradict him on most points, aside from dismissing him in general, which I feel was to downplay how close Louis was to the truth.

They are discussing the opera Rafayel just performed in, particularly, the Siren’s Ballad. In the opera, the siren is a woman and the human is the man (played by Rafayel). Louis says they got this wrong. The Siren was “a charming, handsome merman”. Presumably this Siren is Rafayel.

Simple enough so far, but now it gets confusing.

The Siren (Rafayel) “met a woman on the beach, but she took his tail and cut off his scales”. This sounds similar in some ways to MC, but opposite in others. MC was a child, not a grown woman. And Rafayel got stranded on the beach (No way out, no hope, and waiting to die) and MC rescued him from death, rather than taking his tail and scales.

However, if we assume Fragrant Dream was a memory and not just a dream (Rafayel acts as though this dream is significant somehow), Rafayel gave a scale, his blood, and his voice to save MC, and ultimately sacrificed his life for her, in some past life. The perfume (bitter like fermented aquatic plants, the same description as the potion in the dream) that brings the possible memory to MC’s mind is from Your Fragrance. Rafayel has some very strange lines in Your Fragrance when he is under the apparently intoxicating effect this perfume has on him. He says the perfume smells familiar, then goes on to say:

“It must be an allergic reaction. This isn’t perfume. How dare they use such underhanded methods to trap me…”

“Who gave you the perfume?”

“Are you trying to run away again?”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re gonna lock me up again… You’re with them, I just know it. Don’t think I’m unaware of what you’re about to do. (MC name), I won’t fall for it again. Not this time.”

This all implies that Rafayel was trapped and locked up in the past. And that on at least some level, he feels like MC played a role in him getting tricked. (Which might explains why he considers abandoning her when she is drowning in MS Chapter 7.11. See an alternate theory for this here.)

Back to Louis’ story, he describes the fate of the woman. The Siren is on the verge of death, and he sings the Siren’s Ballad. (Later, we learn this portrayal of the Siren’s Ballad is inaccurate: ““Siren's Ballad” isn't a song of revenge. It's an elegy sung for Lemuria”.) According to Louis, “Ultimately, the woman on the shore passed away with a smile as he sang.” Obviously, MC is currently alive. Did Louis get this wrong? Was this a past life? A different woman?

Louis then describes what he believes those who die by the Siren’s song experience.

“People lured by the siren's ballad don't die peacefully. Their smiles are just a mask bestowed by the Siren. Instead, as they near death, they witness bizarre visions as they're plunged into endless torment.”

The man, Mr. Fallon, who died during the opera is described as having died of no obvious cause with a smile on his face. After singing during the opera that Mr. Fallon died watching, Rafayel goes backstage.

“A searing pain throbs in his throat, pulsating in tandem with his heartbeat, rapidly stimulating his nerves. As he touches his Adam’s apple, he pulls out a new tie from his leather briefcase, a smooth satin entwined between his fingers. The cool texture gradually envelops his neck. It’s like sheathing a blade.”

This strongly implies that Rafayel used his voice for something more than singing, hinting at it being a weapon. I think it is safe to assume Rafayel somehow killed Mr. Fallon man with his song, presumably in the way Louis describes.

Another interesting thing of note in this part of Louis’ description is: “A blue pattern, representing the Siren, appears on their chests. It's a constant reminder of the sins they committed against the sea.” At first, I thought this may be the pattern we see on Rafayel’s chest in Chapter 7.11, implying he sinned against the sea, but on rewatching it, I realized that the mark is red, not blue. So I am inclined to go with my first impression that Rafayel’s mark is related to his bond with MC (since it responds to her calling out to him).

So, now that we are thoroughly confused about what has taken place between Rafayel and MC, let’s move on to the next part of the story. This is when everything takes an even more heartbreaking turn.

“The Siren returns to the sea, believing everything has ended. But he discovers his underwater kingdom has turned to ruins, soaked in blood. His people have either vanished, turned into bloody foam, or were kidnapped. His homeland has turned into a silent, deserted city overnight. Oh, and as for the name of this underwater kingdom - Lemuria.”

(Interesting side note: After this part of Louis’ story, Rafayel’s meal is served: “a fish laying amidst white rosemary”. Rosemary symbolizes fidelity and remembrance.)

Later, in his memories, Rafayel adds to this scene for us.

“The young boy sits alone in the middle of the coral reef, softly humming “Siren's Ballad.” Waves lap the shores, staining it dark red. The color blends almost seamlessly with the bloody setting sun in the distance. Those who deceived him have long since sailed away on their massive ships, laughing all the while. “Siren's Ballad” isn't a song of revenge. It's an elegy sung for Lemuria.”

He also remembers:

“The dying cries of his people echo in his ears, fizzing and crackling like a broken record that's been ground into pieces.”

“In the darkness, the shadows of those he personally laid to rest emerge and drag him down, lower and lower into the depths.”

Now, let’s talk about the painting Raymond bought from Rafayel.

But first, let’s talk about Raymond. He is a former patient of Zayne’s with a congenital heart disease. In his mansion, he has a giant fish tank with no water in it. Instead, it has a dull and pale skeleton. (MS Chapter 2.2-2.3)

“Fin-like bones protrude from its pelvis. This skeleton lacks legs, its spine extending like a long string. Its pose is ominously beautiful, resembling a girl sitting cross-legged.”

I think it is pretty safe to say this is a real Lemurian skeleton.

Additionally, Zayne notes that “According to the Akso remote monitor, your vital sign data has improved. The equipment also determined your age to be far younger than what it actually is.” In other words, Raymond’s health has improved, and he is unnaturally youthful for his age. Raymond even suggests he should be dead by now and asks Zayne if he is curious as to why he is not dead. Zayne admits to initial curiosity, but then moves on.

Before K died, he said “They took away my scales and drew my blood. Over and over again. I’m no longer Lemurian.” The doctor told Rafayel that K had endured “such agony”. This appears to be something many of the Lemurians on land are facing or trying to hide from.

In Rafayel’s Myth (Chapter 3), it says that the humans of that time believed:

"Every Lemurian was blessed with beauty. Their tears turn into glimmering pearls, their voices brought dreams of wonder, their blood made one live forever or could even resurrect the dead. Once you tamed a Lemurian, they were the most loyal, powerful servant. They listened to every command, even if it cost them their life."

Even if only parts of this are true, it shows that Lemurians are considered highly desirable as slaves or for parts. And the part about the blood seems to have at least an element of truth, given Raymond's health.

It seems reasonable to conclude that Raymond has been harvesting something (scales, blood, etc) from Lemurians to unnaturally lengthen his life and make him younger.

Now enter Rafayel’s painting.

He used blood red coral, infused with Metaflux, from the ruins of Lemuria for this painting.

When MC resonated with the painting in Raymond’s house, this is what she experiences:

“A stunning oil painting hangs on the wall opposite of the sofa. It depicts a brilliantly blue sea with cascading white waves. Each brush stroke feels alive as if countless fairies are jumping out of the water.

At the edge of the sea, the water is gradually stained crimson like something is being torn apart, swallowed, and coalescing into a blood clot.

The gloomy weather, the sound of the ocean - a salty humidity slowly creeps into my hair.

A girl by the shore, the lower half of her body submerged in the water. Strange. It's almost like she’s crying and laughing at the same time.

The swirling fog carries a faint, ethereal melody on the sea breeze. It sounds like a song, yet is also a lament.”

Mermaid Song plays in the background while MC is resonating with the painting. The translation of it is:

“A fish in your hand. Please burn with passion. Nets of moonlight. With coral, a prison. When waves kiss the morning sun. The scent of roses pierce. With a fish in your hand. Blood. Blood. Blood covers the sea.”

When MC visits Rafayel’s art gallery, we learn a bit more about this painting.

“When I was a kid, I had dreamed I turned into a fish.

I swam and swam and swam from the deep sea, seeking a place beyond the water's surface. Only to end up in blood-red seawater.

It was the first time I ever saw such a color. Who knows how many years I've spent trying to recreate it. But I never really could get that same shade of red.

It was always a slightly different hue, you know...”

All of this put together paints a scene along these lines for us:

A young Rafayel returns from an encounter with a human woman on the beach (MC?). He finds that Lemuria is in ruins and empty. He swims to the surface. It is nighttime on a coral reef. There is a smell of roses in the air. As the sun rises, he sees that the water is filled with blood. Perhaps there is a Lemurian girl there singing mournfully, or the girl in the painting is representative of Rafayel’s experience and the experience of other survivors. (Perhaps it is even her skeleton in Raymond's home). Some Lemurians are dead or dying in the water or on the beach. Rafayel hears their dying cries and returns those dead on land to the sea to become one with the water. He then sits alone on a coral reef, surrounded by bloody water, singing an elegy for Lemuria as the sun sets. He knows he was deceived and that his deceivers have already sailed away. Some of the Lemurians have been kidnapped and taken away with the deceivers.

("A fish in your hand" from the Mermaid Song seems to refer to the Ocean Emissaries (little blue fish) that come from making a Lemurian vow (though Rafayel also seems to be able to summon these on command). Is this a reference to the promise between Rafayel and MC? How does that play into the rest of this scene?)

Given how vulnerable Lemurians are on Ebb Day, I think it very likely that this occurred on Ebb Day. (Perhaps this vulnerability was revealed to those who killed the Lemurians by MC or Rafayel himself. Did one or both of them trust the wrong people with this information? This also might be why Rafayel was stranded on a beach in the first place when he met MC.)

So now we have some kind of a picture about what happened to Lemuria. Is this ancient or recent history?

Either way, Lemurians still live and are still being harvested for parts.

Louis concludes his story by asking Rafayel, “When the Siren returns to the beach…How does he exact his revenge on those responsible for Lemuria's destruction?”

To which Rafayel responds, “I think he’d first learn from them. He's gotta study their wits and cruelty, you know.”

Which brings us back to Mr. Fallon dead with a smile on his face at the opera. And also Raymond drowned in his bathtub after carving fish scales into his body. The painting has vanished from his home. (MS Chapter 7.3)

I think this is why Rafayel has a bounty on him, since those participating in harvesting Lemurians are being killed by him, but can't exactly go to the authorities about it.

I also think Rafayel is not solely motivated by revenge. He tells Aunt Talia “Not every Lemurian survivor can wait.” Somehow, what he is doing is supposed to prevent other Lemurians from ending up like K.

Talia notes that Rafayel has changed "After that incident in Lemuria." He seems unrecognizable. Past Rafayel was like a blazing flame, whereas he "now resembled a reef battered by relentless waves - outwardly cold and hard, yet riddled with cracks, vulnerable to crumbling from the next wave." Talia is helping Rafayel gather information for his goal, but she isn't convinced that they are doing the right thing.

What are your thoughts? Was this helpful? More confusing? Is Rafayel ancient or young? What the heck happened between Rafayel and MC? Let me know your thoughts!

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel

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howlsofbloodhounds · 2 months ago

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hey I was wondering, do you have any thoughts or headcannons about Crescent? (Killer and Nightmare most popular fanchild) I always thought that his existence would be very interesting for the interaction between the two but the fandom kind of completely ignores them when it comes to Crescent, which is really annoying because this has so much potential to traumatize both of them (especially Killer)

Oh man, it’s been awhile since i thought about anything related to shipkids or Crescent. Now I did talk about how I think Stage 2 Killer, the Killer Crescent is most likely to be familiar with, would think of, react to, feel about, and behave around children in general right here.

All is to say, i don’t think Killer would ever want children of his own. Any kids he may potentially have would be on accident or something he was not willingly doing or had a hand in.

I do still think Stage 2’s ways of thinking about people in general—not full “people,” unreal, objects of fascination and study, NPCs running on scripts and predicable, tools or resources, targets, threats, etc—would extend to his own kids.

If it was something he didn’t willingly partake in, he’d avoid confronting his lack of agency or desire for such a thing—and he wouldn’t think of any kids as his. He’d think, “they’re not mine. Just another way this body was used.” Or “the results of someone else’s choices” or in some cases, “a means to an end.”

At most, if the child was an accident and unplanned, he may begin to see the kid(s) as “his.” But not in the way a parent typically thinks about their child; just as a fact. They’re “biologically” or magically, I guess, his. They may even be his in the same way that, say, the phone I’m typing on to respond to this ask is mine.

I wouldn’t want anyone touching it without permission or going through it or breaking it or stealing it from me. I have a password to keep it safe. I have a case on it so its screen doesn’t break when I drop it. It’s a cute case. I make sure to charge it when it needs to be charged, manage its storage, try to avoid giving it any bugs or viruses and try to fix it if it does get any. I make sure not to overcharge and overheat it.

Sometimes I play around in its settings and try to figure out how it works, what it can and can’t do, what I can and can’t change about it. There’s ideas and worries and thoughts floating around that my phone could be used against me, leak my personal information, explode and hurt me, etc.

When it doesn’t work as intended or in a timely manner or does anything that happens to regular phones and are just natural or inconvenient, I get annoyed with it and think about throwing it at wall. I don’t do it—but killer would have a much harder time with a kid in this analogy then I would.

I am not conditioned to respond with violence to certain triggers—it just mildly annoyed me. And he may just have to forcibly remove himself from the situation/kid, if only because he doesn’t want this kid “controlling” him.

If I lost or broke my phone id be annoyed and frustrated, upset about all my data and photos and videos and memories being lost—but would ultimately move on with my life. I would more so be upset that I wasted the money of the person who bought and gifted the phone.

Of course things with Killer and any kids of his in this phone analogy don’t fit perfectly. For one thing he wouldn’t even bother getting a “phone” in this case, and if he ever accidentally ended up with one and he wasn’t able to “share” it with someone (raise the kid alongside the parent as support or have any form of support), he’d find someone else to take it.

If he couldn’t find anyone else to take it, and the phone was capable of being taught to care and look after itself, he might do that if he’s in the environment to do so (aka not with Nightmare), then leave once he’s sure it can. Probably wouldn’t think much of the phone again.

Now back to Crescent specifically. I forgot what his story was so I had to look up a wiki, which may not be reliable, but something in particular stood out to me and kinda made me laugh.

“Killer doesn't care about Crescent. When Nightmare said that they now have a child together, Killer commented on this news with an emotionless "Wow".”

Very silly of him to do. But makes sense, since it’s to my understanding that this kid was not made out of any love between Killer and Nightmare—Crescent was made purely for Nightmare’s plans.

It’s mentioned that Nightmare is the mother, and maybe possibly given birth (?) to him, so at least Killer didn’t have to experience the body horror of unwanted pregnancy. But the way it’s said makes me think he still definitely wasn’t given any choice in this matter.

I remember hearing around that Nightmare actually raised Crescent in his early years due to wanting to raise him “right.” I personally don’t see Nightmare doing any of the child rearing honestly, i think it’d actually be left to Killer.

And I already talked about how I think Killer would fare with having been ordered to care for a child in the linked post, but there’s the added bonus of Crescent being Killer and Nightmare’s kid, Killer’s unwanted kid, the fact that he was likely ordered by the Boss to train and basically indoctrinate Crescent into whatever plans Nightmare has for the kid.

It was mentioned that Crescent is resentful and resistant towards Nightmare and his plans, hiding the full extent of his powers simply to spite Nightmare. And while I do think Killer may be all for spiting Nightmare, there’s the fact that Crescent himself isn’t likely to face the consequences for his disobedience; Killer is.

Hell, in the darkest timeline, Killer may even be the one ordered to dish out any punishment on Crescent himself; encouraged to give in to his conditioning while also having to restrain himself from killing the kid.

But it’s more likely that Killer would face punishment from Nightmare for any disobedience Crescent displays. Which in turn builds Killer’s both resentment and feelings of being powerless, but also leads to deep repression which increases his apathy and indifference.

All in all, i think Killer would both fear and hate that kid deep down. Very deep. But enough that whenever he’s in Stage 1, he’ll stay far away from Crescent; and warn the kid to do the same. He may even arm Crescent with a way to protect himself from Killer, similar to the way he tells Color he has to kill him if he ever goes Stage 3.

Crescent would likely be raised with the knowledge that his father—the one whose been taking care of and raising him all these years, but may have also been the one to have greatly wounded and betrayed him (regardless of choice or not)— is a danger to him, and one day, he may have to kill him—or he’d die instead.

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ballad-of-birdy-lamb · 7 months ago

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Hi!! I’ve just discovered your blog, could I request Ted x female!Reader, maybe general romantic headcanons? Tyyy 😊 (I’m so insane for this man, so happy to find another ihnmaims writer on here aaaa)

I need you to run to me, run to me, lover.

Ted (IHNMAIMS) x Female! Reader romantic headcanons Summary: Romantic headcanons of Ted and female! Reader Warnings: talk of outdated ideas (just feminine ideas but nothing extreme), basic IHNMAIMS violence (references to AM's torture, possessiveness on Ted's end. Word count:874 (pretty sort sadly) ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Any feminine presence outside Ellen isn’t common in the group, so you being a part of the group and staying with Ted is what he takes pride in. He’s got a lovely lady he gets to kiss and keep for himself that treats him well. He’s never been more grateful for someone in his life since you said you reciprocate his feelings.

The group also sees your love as a benefit, Ted shuts the fuck up more often now that you’re on his arm. He doesn’t go on as many rants about his hatred for all of them since you just kiss him, and he gets quiet from embarrassment.

Ted would view you as an angel if you’re a lot kinder than he is, not only because of his insanely religious ideas, but because that’s what AM will try pushing in his mind. It’s more likely because the AI wants to see if you’ll lose feelings for Ted if he’s beyond clingy.

Religious ideas definitely have an effect on him, especially with AM fucking him over. The religious ideas would be so much worse in the relationship, the idea you’re an angel would become worse. Worshiper ideals. But that worship from him to you won’t fly with the AI, if anything, it’ll cause him to be more inclined to hurt you.

Speaking of clingy, it’s to an insane extent. Ted is always sleeping next to you or in your arms, holding your hand on the journey for the canned peaches, and sobbing in your arms when he sees fit for a good cry. Ted isn’t extremely pleased at the idea either, usually trying to push away before that lost dog mindset sets in. Open your arms and he’ll go back eventually. You make him so soft! How cruel you are!

Unironically, it’s a “us against the world” sort of thing for Ted, and he’s right to an extent. AM is against you, the others don’t care (meaning for Ted: they want to take you away), and he believes it. If anything, it won’t make him better with relationships, he’ll be insecure and he’ll say you’re trying to leave him too. It’ll cause him to hold you a little closer at night.

He’s gone so long without real romantic love to the extent he is so desperate for nice lady touch. As much as he denies it, he’s desperate for a feminine presence (which plays into his lost dog habit of following you). Ted will also keep you very close.

When Ted is tortured, he’ll go crawling to you again. Not only because he genuinely wants you to take care of him but because you’re so soft. He knows for a fact you’ll help him, going into your arms will be met with kisses and soft touches, a great contrast from the usual treatment from AM.

As little as his family life affects him under AM’s hold, he’ll be a husband for you. Ted will do things for you a husband would: being soft to you, saying nice things (when he isn’t having bouts of anxiety), and pulling you along when AM gives him delusions again. Don’t worry though, he’ll hold you real tight just so you feel better.

If you’re a lot more feminine, he’ll view you as needing protection (what do you expect he grew up in the 50’s/60’s). Ted will keep you in the center of the group with Ellen, keeping you close but not close enough for discomfort.

If you ever find a way to get something as minute as makeup, give him kisses with lipstick on, he likes knowing you left a mark. Not only to taunt the others about having a lover, but also to know you like kissing him.

Calls you his wife so the others know you’re his. It’s met with laughter and taunts from AM since he thinks marriage is an entire joke in the first place and will mock you with it. “You must be such a pretty wife to Ted if he goes out of his way to say such nice things about you,” AM would muse. Of course, Ted didn’t take it too seriously, he knew AM said that sort of stuff whenever he felt fit.

“You’ll stay my wife forever, right?” Ted muttered; the rest of the group having gone off to sleep. You sat against one of the deckplates, holding his head against your chest. His grasp on your body got tighter, making you slightly uncomfortable but you knew it wasn’t his fault for all of his worries.

“Of course,” you nod, brushing his hair from his face to kiss his forehead.

On the journey for the canned peaches, he’ll mutter about how sweet it will be. He’ll feed you the peaches and get to see you smile a bunch, not just because he kissed you, but from genuine happiness. He’ll start thinking of ways he could turn it slightly romantic, hoping his anxieties don’t get the best of him and he tries running off with you, coming back just to find the peaches eaten up.

At the end of the day, Ted is anxiety filled and knowing you’re there to hold his hand helps just a little bit more.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

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Do No Harm

CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!

Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3

Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.

He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him.

Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.

Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense.

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again.

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true.

He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks.

Foggy dislocated his shoulder.

It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”

He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act.

The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.

The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.

Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.

He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.

The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers.

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.

Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.

Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.

The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital.

A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.

Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.

The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.

That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.

Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.

The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.

“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.

Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”

You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.

You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.

Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.

Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.

“Do you need something?” you ask him.

He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.

Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.

The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”

“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”

“No. Don’t.”

Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips.

You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him.

“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”

Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.

His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on.

You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”

Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought.

Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence.

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.

He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.

“Olivia,” you say.

Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.

You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.

You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why?

“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.

“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”

“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“You work here?” he dares to ask.

You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”

Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.

You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.

He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”

“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your eyes roam over him once again.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet.

You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says.

“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”

He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind.

“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real.

Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says.

That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further.

“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”

He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”

“Sorry?”

“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go.

Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort.

“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”

That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about.

The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?

You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”

Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot.

Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself.

“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise.

Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”

You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.

He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.

You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Matt says.

You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated.

“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart.

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.

“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”

“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?”

Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.

He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”

“Oh?”

“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”

You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”

Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.

“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”

“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”

“You think that would end my career?”

“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”

Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”

He joins in. “Anytime.”

For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing.

Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier.

“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”

“An accident?”

“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”

“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor.

Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin.

You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry.

But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help.

“It’s fine,” he assures you.

You nod. “I believe you.”

You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.

“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”

His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.

“Can I fix it?"

He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”

“Please.”

There is no arguing with you, it seems.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier.

“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”

“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes.

“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”

Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”

He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do.

You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”

That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie.

As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for.

Yet.

You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.

“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”

Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers.

“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.

The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.

You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go. Save a life!”

You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.”

Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye.

“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”

His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says.

“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running.

Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.

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