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hunn1e-bunn1e · 11 months ago

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Dorm Heads - With Zhongli Male Reader

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I'm sorry this took so long to post, Mystery anon! I've been super busy with personal stuff so I haven't had a lot of free time to work on this. I got pretty burned out at Idia's part and I couldn't be bothered to touch it up honestly; so, sorry about that. I hope this is what you wanted. —Benny🐰

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🌹 This hot headed boy was pretty surprised to find that the supposed magicless student from the orientation ceremony was not in fact magicless; seeing as you brought down a literal meteor and crushed the poor unsuspecting, feline resembling, monster. A meteor which appeared out of thin air and left no traces of damage behind after its impact. To say poor Riddle was confused and also fairly alarmed was an understatement.

🌹 Your mannerisms were very strange to him. You're very well spoken and composed; yet you're seemingly wise beyond your years. Why are you speaking as if you're in your 80s? Riddle won't lie though; for an old man you're quite good looking. If he didn't have a reputation to uphold and examples to set, he could stare at you all day long.

🌹 A dragon? Well… that explains a lot. No wonder the Dark Mirror couldn't detect magic in you; or at least, that's what he reasons with himself. Please; he needs an explanation, he's so confused. Upon seeing your dragon form though… Riddle is once again confused. Are dragons supposed to be that long? Not that he's complaining though; the way you make a massive bed out of yourself is hard to contest.

🌹 T‐Treasure? Him? That's— Now look here; no amount of buttering him up will make you exempt from the rules, You— you scoundrel! Riddle is not easily tricked! Even if he is a tad bit more lenient with you, no he's not. You have no proof.

🌹 You have a son now too!? Just what else aren't you telling him!? Riddle doesn't mind Xiao at all actually. He thinks that they're both similar in how dedicated they are to their work. The adeptus seems to only tolerate him though; which, while disheartening, he completely understands.

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"How odd, the Dark Mirror perceived you as magicless, yet you summoned stone and earth just now. Just who are you..?"

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🦁 Right off the bat Leona could smell it and immediately he knew; that ain't a damn human. However, he couldn't seem to pinpoint just what you were exactly. You smelled similar to his one sided rival, Malleus, but it was different somehow. In the end, he just chalked it up to you being a fae of some kind. He did find it bizarre that the Dark Mirror claimed you to be magicless and directly after that you used magic. Whatever, he just wants a nap.

🦁 Why the hell are you talking like that? You sound like Diasomnia's Vice Dorm Head. Seriously, who in the world says ‘quite’ anymore. But, Leona doesn't mind you going off on one of your long winded story times about your past. Your deep voice is very smooth and soothing to his ears and has lulled him to sleep successfully every time.

🦁 HA! He knew it; his nose is never wrong after all. Well… maybe Leona was off by a little; but you're certainly not a human. A dragon though? No wonder you smelled similar to his nemesis; except your scent is more earthy than the dragon fae's. Your dragon form makes a very comfortable body pillow to cling onto. Yes, he is indeed speaking from experience. What was said experience, you ask? You were taking a nap in your dorm room while in your dragon form and woke up with a wild lion beastman clinging onto you.

🦁 Treasure, huh? Okay, be prepared for him to call you nicknames of his own. Noodle is one that Leona uses the most; a way to endearingly tease you about the foreign look of your dragon form. Another one he likes to use is old man/gramps; a tease on the strange way you speak.

🦁 Oh dear Seven; please not another Cheka, he doesn't think he can deal with another gremlin in this lifetime. Thankfully for Leona though, the avian adeptus is far older than his hyperactive nephew and awfully cold too. The lion beastman is pretty sure that Xiao doesn't like him, but you've continually assured him that your son actually really enjoys his presence.

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"Damn, you sure talk a lot, Gramps. Hah? I didn't tell ya to stop or anything, keep talkin' I'm almost asleep."

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🐙 His immediate impression of you was actually very positive! You seemed incredibly knowledgeable and well spoken. But what really caught Azul's attention was your apparently unrecognizable magic. The Dark Mirror proclaimed you magicless and yet shortly after the proclamation you displayed an exceptional control over stone and earth when you suddenly summoned a large stone pillar to attack your rampaging familiar. Color him intrigued.

🐙 My, what a strange way of speaking you have; are you perhaps anything like Diasomnia's Vice Dorm Head where you're far older than you appear? Azul actually doesn't find your mannerisms all that strange to be honest, he thinks it just gives a certain charm to you.

🐙 Oh, so you're a dragon are you? Would you perhaps be interested in signing a contract with him? It's for your benefit, he swears. No? Damn. Your dragon form reminds him a bit of various aquatic animals that populate the Coral Sea. Don't mind him calling you any names of fish you've never heard of, okay. Sometimes, if he's tired enough, Azul will allow you to cuddle with him in your dragon form. It's quite comfortable, so he doesn't mind too much.

🐙 Azul doesn't mind giving nicknames to people, but he's not too used to receiving from anyone other than Floyd and sometimes Jade. So when you refer to him as your treasure, he's caught off guard and pretty flustered. He'll never not be red in the face when you call him by that pet name, but he has a few of his own for you. Oarfish is one that he uses often, mostly in a teasing sense. Another is Ropefish, this one is used sparingly, he never told you why though.

🐙 Xiao… does not like him. The adeptus made it very clear upon their first meeting when he held the blade of his polearm to the poor cecaelia's throat and fixed him with the sharpest glare Azul had ever seen. It would seem that you told him about the whole contract debacle that went down before his overblot and your son wasn't going to forgive him any time soon.

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"Are you perhaps interested in making a contract with me? My services are quite high quality and will certainly benefit you in the future. Eh? S‐shady? Me?"

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🪲 Kalim thought that you were really cool when he first saw you at the entrance ceremony! Not only did you help him put the fire on his butt out, you also summoned a huge meteor out of nowhere! “‘I will have order!’” You sounded so cool! Ah… but wait– didn't the Dark Mirror say that you were magicless? Oh whatever, it doesn't matter anyway.

🪲 Why do you talk like you're old? You look way too young to talk like that; maybe around Professor Crewel's age but that in itself is a stretch. Expect a lot of questions from Kalim; like a lot. How old are you really? Are you a fae? Were you raised by your grandparents? What do you mean you don't know what omg means? How did you get your hair so shiny? Why do you wear clothes like that? Where are you from? Do you have a job? What do you do for work? Why are you looking at him like that? Huh… who's Hu Tao?

🪲 A Dragon!? That's so cool! Our precious boy was completely blindsided by the revelation that you were, in fact, not a human. When you reveal your dragon form to him Kalim is ecstatic, attempting to wrap his arms around your now massive form. Most times you'll be lounging on his massive bed while in your dragon form as he lays in the middle of your coiled body; running his fingers through the fur on your neck and pressing kisses to your snout.

🪲 While he certainly doesn't mind receiving nicknames and pet names, actually he loves it, it makes him happy, but Kalim isn't one to give nicknames himself, he prefers to use their birth names because it feels more intimate. However, he's not against it when you call him your treasure, he's very happy, it makes him feel all warm and bubbly inside. He might call you Cobra from time to time but it definitely won't be too often.

🪲 You have a kid? Can he meet them!? Please, please, please! Yes? Yay! Your poor emo son was immediately glomped by the eldest prince of the scorching sands as soon as he entered the room. Kalim was so excited that he didn't even let the adeptus speak before he vomited questions at him. Xiao actually didn't mind him at all, the golden retriever-like boy reminded him of a certain oni he once met in the Casm in Liyue.

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"Why do you talk like you're old but look so young? Are you a fae like Lilia? What kind? Can I see your wings? Am I allowed to ask that? Wait! Was that rude!? I'm sorry!"

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👑 Vil actually had a very positive but slightly strained impression of you. You were very well put together; a foreign beauty from another land if you will. Well dressed, well spoken and dashingly handsome; it would be a lie to say that he felt a bit threatened by your arrival to the NRC. Not only were you undeniably attractive though, you possessed an unknown magic that the Dark Mirror couldn't even identify. You were marvelous but mysterious, beautiful yet dangerous. He couldn't help but find himself lost in those glowing amber eyes as you summoned a translucent shield around yourself.

👑 Goodness you're like that Lilia fellow from Diasomnia, only taller, far more charming and much less with the times. Truly, your lack of knowledge about modern technology and tendency to forget your wallet is astonishing. You're like an old man trapped in a young man's body. Don't worry though, Vil will do his best to lay it all out clearly for you.

👑 I'm sorry, you're a what? Could you repeat that darling, Vil doesn't quite think he heard you right. Oh, a dragon, well… okay. He's never seen a real dragon before but something about that form of yours seems a bit… off should he say? You actually resemble more of a snake in his opinion. He won't cuddle with you in your dragon form, unfortunately. His clothes are far too expensive to be covered in dragon fur; but he will give you a few pets from a good distance away. Take what you can get, man.

👑 I need you to know that Vil is the fairest of them all, he's heard it all by now. Well… he thought he did. It wasn't really the pet name but the sincerity in that loving tone you used when you called him your treasure. Oh, how it made him swoon! You rascal, flattery will get you everywhere with him.

👑 Xiao… is afraid of him. One time, you left the two of them alone for ten minutes and came back to a trashed room, a grinning Vil and a beautified yaksha that was trembling in embarrassment and rage. Your poor emo son was holding himself high up and far away from the beautiful man by hanging onto his winged jade spear that was stabbed into the wall. The Pomfiore prefect was right though, green really is Xiao's color.

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"Are you sure you're a dragon? I've never heard of dragon being quite so... oddly shaped. No– I'm not saying you look bad, you're very majestic and dare I say intimidating, I simply haven't ever seen a dragon like you before."

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💀 He recognized you from somewhere; he was sure of it, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. From his tablet, Idia watched as the Dark Mirror addressed you as magicless; though, shortly after, you summoned a pillar of dark brown and amber colored stone to subdue your fire spewing familiar. You were so familiar, yet he couldn't think of where from, it was like some divine intervention was preventing it. Weird….

💀 You… How are you so clueless about technology? Just where the hell are you from that you don't know what a phone is? Your young appearance betrays your age too… You're like an irl anime character! Idia is absolutely raving! Hold on; let him write down a couple catchphrases and design you a costume! Don't worry, he'll teach you all he knows about modern tech as long as you go to this upcoming cosplay convention with him. You can be his main shielding healer from ‘Outworld Collision’!

💀 A dragon? Okay… so? Diasomnia's Dorm Head is kind of a dragon, so what's there to be surprised about? Your dragon form is a bit strange looking, but it's not like he'd actually tell you that; then again he's seen a lot of weird fantasy shit in the media he consumes on the daily, so he has no real reason to comment. Idia enjoy sitting in the middle of your coiled up serpentine body as he plays his games and reads his light novels; enthusiastically explaining the plot as he goes.

💀 T‐teasure? Your treasure? This poor man just about died when you called him that pet name for the first time. You thought he was so valuable that you compared him to treasure? Hold on, give Idia a second so he can compose himself, he's absolutely blue screening right now.

💀 Your son actually still has yet to meet Idia; he always psyches himself up to meet the yaksha but then chickens out at the last minute. He's just worried that if Xiao doesn't like him then you'll change your mind about being with him. It's not that he thinks the adeptus would purposely try and break the two of you up, he's just super paranoid.

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"T‐treasure? Me? Ah... t‐thank you... I t‐treasure you as well; you mean a lot to me. Um, g‐give me a second, I'll give you a nickname too.."

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🐲 Malleus, of course, hadn't attended the orientation ceremony due to not receiving an invitation, however Lilia had told him all about you when he returned to Diasomnia. He was very intrigued to hear about how you didn't seem to be human despite your appearance. As well as how the Dark Mirror had mistakenly labeled you as magicless as you seemed to display expert control over stone and earth. You truly lived up to expectations when he finally met you during his midnight walk around Ramshackle. You were quite the beauty as well.

🐲 Your disposition didn't faze him in the slightest. If anything, it just confirmed Malleus’ assumptions that you certainly weren't a human. He and Lilia speak in the exact same way as you, so he has no reason to be concerned nor intrigued about it. However, your habit of forgetting your wallet is a bit vexing.

🐲 You're… a dragon? Really!? Oh, you have absolutely no idea just how extatic he is to meet another dragon! Er, well, he isn't exactly a dragon, but he is close to it. Whenever you show him your dragon form, he's even more in awe of you than he was before. Truly, you were the most majestic creature he has ever had the pleasure to bear witness to. He'll happily show you his own dragon form too; expect to set aside a few hours once every week so that you and Malleus can cuddle together in said forms.

🐲 Your Treasure, you say? My my, you're quite charming aren't you? Now, Malleus isn't one to be easily flustered, but knowing how important treasures are to dragons, you're practically getting down on one knee when you call him that. Of course, he's not cruel enough to leave the sentiment unreturned, so he's taken to calling you his jewel or his fallen star in reference to you coming from another world.

🐲 Believe it or not, Xiao actually tried to kill him upon their first meeting. The yaksha had mistakenly thought that he was a demon that had somehow followed you all the way here. Thankfully though, you calmed your son down, explained the situation and introduced the two. Malleus actually took quite the liking to him despite the initial frosty reception; saying how the adeptus reminded him of a more quiet version of Sebek.

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"My, look at you. Such a gorgeous mane of fur, those glossy brown scales, curled horns of glowing amber, and those cute whiskers you have. What a magnificent creature you are, my darling."

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welp-back-on-my-bs · 8 months ago

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OM charicters and how they handle periods

Lucifer

- can and will fuck the shir outta ya if it helps-

- he will also baby you

- I mean- he literally sends the brothers out to gather sweets and other needs

- heated blanket on hand for you

- you can sleep in his bed

- he watches over you as you sleep of you get tired

- none will hurt his little lamb

Mammon

- he panicks

- you're BLEEDING WTFFFF

- especially worried and unprepared if you don't identify as a female

- thinks you're dieing and lucifer wil kill him

- when its explained he does good and gets everything he knows you need

- here, have literally all this expensive chocolate he knows you like

- have all the midol he could find

- have the products you need to survive this- and more♡

Levi

- he probably learned about periods trough anime/an online AFAB friend

- he wont mind if you stay with him, he can clean whatever gets blood on it, you chose to spend time with him, he is hapoy with that :>

- anime and video games to distract you

- you can sleep in his lap as he plays

- you get to share his anime themed snacks

Satan

- for those who get moody during hell, he is here to help

- cat Cafe is the haven for you both-

- he also gets his anger out with you in healthy ways

- you both write out everything, scream out your toughts into the Forrest, and sing along to songs that bring out that anger

- afterwards he will read to you until you fall asleep

- he takes good care of you

Asmo

- feeling extra ✨️horny✨️ he is here to help

- he fucks ya fore a few hours then you both have a nice hot bath, makeovers and stuff

- you get sugar coded fruits with him

- sleep like Royalty and wake up feeling refershed✨️

- literally a phone call away for anything

- period products are in his bathroom too

Beel

- this man has the comfort food

- he will allways share with you and Belphie

- he notices when you come to him more often for sweets and stuff, so he stocks more for you ^^

- om nom nom

- one of the best people to nap with

- he is also a good workout bud to help with the cramps n stuff too

- one of the best boys to go to tbh-

Belphie

- now- of you need sleep- he has ya

- he sees you being tired and d r a g s you to one of his spots, cuddles you, and falls asleep with you

- it's fuckin comfy so ofc you fall asleep too-

- you get only the best dreams by his side

- cuddle, sleep, it's done- he won't stop- help QwQ

Diavolo

- the me is that?

- he didn't know until you bleed trough your clothes sadly

- he helps by haveing teas with you and has barbatos find some thar help with cramping and just to make thibgs more comfortable

- sweets galore (you're allowed to take them home

- you can sit on his lap and cuddle him, he is warm

Barbatos

- he knows when your periods are, its not weird-

- he has products set up in the bathroom near the room you're staying in and the next fee over just in case

- he brings you tea and sweets that help you

- he has a change of clothes for you on the ready along with spare blankets/sheets/pillows

- he can take care of any and i mean ANY of your needs, just ask ^^

Simeon

- he isn't that exposed to them, so he dosent know what to do or if he can interfere

- he decides that he can if you beg him enough or he sees that you're suffering

- finds things that can calm the symptoms and help your body

- gentle massages

- he is a little cold but damn can he take care of you

Luke:

- also has no idea wtf to do

- he learns sweets help and bakes alot for you

- like- they all are get well things or if you like to celebrate it then the sweets are red and pink

- he'll tell off anyone who tries to bother you

Solosus

- he has a potion for that

- you just have to beg

- :>

Thirteen

- hasn't had one, but she likes to help you if you promise to help her on a trap

- or you can be the trap by surprising someone with your moodyness

- she gets the perfect things for you

- a damn good tradeoff

Rapael

- like the other angles VERY confused

- he does help tho

- number 2 for sleep spots, no cuddles tho

- gets you weird foods to try

- about 5/10 could be better

Mephistophlies

- bro dosent know anything about this, why should he?

- when he does learn, he sneaks some sweets into your locker, high quality ofc

- he would give you shit as he gives you some spare clothes

- this man, he finds good shit to help ya

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me headcanons #obey me nightbringer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me thirteen #obey me raphael #obey me barbatos #obey me mephistopheles

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agoofyannoyancetolaw · 10 months ago

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Command

a/n: I wrote this out of pure spite and the fact that I got another cold and realized I hadn’t posted in forever 😭 this is an utter blurb and I’m seriously writing this after my sixth sick nap of the day. Literally no idea what this even is ngl

minors DNI

“Please just tell me what to do- please?..” graves whimpered through the phone without a care in the world if you had speaker on or not, your voice being the only thing keeping him awake other then the blunt feeling of his plastic dildo against his rim

“you know what to do baby, come on- you really miss me that much?” Your static voice humming through the phone followed by his whimpers and whines as he lowered himself down on it inch by inch and accompanied by little huffs of breaths from you as you lazily stroked your aching cock. You could easily imagine what he looked like, down to the little tears dotting his eyelashes and his slack jaw.

this wasn’t the usual late night call for you, but he had practically begged you for you to at least call him so he could have some relief

graves needed to be told what to do! years of work and military and pmc work wearing at his mind.. he needed something to do in his retirement before he went damn insane. Waiting for you to be back from your missions was so boring and he was so pent up for the months you were gone :(

he had waited for a full week for you to be able to call, and when you could it was very late at night, sleep already making his eyes all blurry. Your voice was more static than usual on the call, but it was enough to make him get all hot and bothered.

“feels good, hm? Doesn’t feel the same without me though?” He could hear you mutter with a soft chuckle

“y-yes sir..” graves mumbled back, If you could see his face now he’d be bright red. God your such a tease. “Can I- I-“ graves said, his little whimpers and winces audible through the speaker

“can you what? Use your words?” You remind him. You knew what he was asking for but hearing him stumble over his words so easy from just a simple toy and a phone call was too cute of an offer to pass up.

“can I go faster, please? Please please please I promise I won’t be too loud?” His words were already broken, punctuated by little breaths as he worked himself up and down the toy, still not content! He wanted you- he wanted your hot breath on his neck or your cologne filling his senses. This isn’t fair at all! He could already feel the warm coiling and constricting feeling building up in his mind by the time you gave him permission to go faster

it only took minutes before you could hear his pretty moans from the call, his breath getting heavy and you could practically see his eyes rolling back. You had seen him like that so many times to the point you already new he was close.

“C-an I?” Graves whispered into the mic in between broken whimpers and whines, his gummy walls clenching around the plastic as he patiently waited for you to give him permission- like a dog waiting for its treat.

Before you could even finish replying you could already hear him gasp and moan as he painted the towel below him white. Hanging up and knowing he would be cleaning himself off and waiting around for you to get home again.

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dreamauri · 1 year ago

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♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗔𝗧 𝗛𝗘𝗥 max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . while on a drive, lando's car breaks down and you're the best mechanic in town.”

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests | taglist )

"Now my phone's dead too." Lando scoffed throwing his phone on the leather seat. He's been standing at the side of the blue carbon covered £380,00+ car for the past 20 minutes. He was in the middle of utterly no where, with no cars passing by ( the people that did stop, happen to not speak English nor Flemish Dutch for that matter yes lando tried speaking dutch to italians ).

What a lucky day.

And it was about to get a lot luckier when another car passing by stopped after Norris waved over. "I need help, with the car." He tried saying slowly, switching to Dutch to try his chances.

"I can . . . I can help push it? to uh . . . car doctor?" "Yes, car doctor, that would be great. Thank you." And so after about 2 hours of hard work, the two men ( well one man, one boy lando small ) arrived at a town where several other men came and helped Lando to the mechanics shop.

"Ask kiku. Uhhh . . . Kiku help with car. Very good."

Lando made sure to thank everyone before they left, going through the door. "Un momento per favore." [one moment please]. A female voice shouted through the garage, she was laying on a skateboard rolled under a car.

"Matteo!" she shouted again startling Lando. "Matteo. Porta qui il tuo culo e aiuta quel dannato uomo." [Matteo. Get your ass over here and help the god damn man]. 'Matteo' seemed to have either passed out and taken a nap or walked out. "marcire All 'inferno . . . Cosa c'è che non va nella tua auto?" [rot in hell . . . what's wrong with your car] You asked giving up on finding your co worker.

"I'm sorry?" Lando asked again feeling nervous in this situation, making you pause your tweaking. You rolled from under the car, looking at the British driver. "There shouldn't be anything wrong with your car." You spoke in English, fluently, rolling back under and continuing with the wrench.

"You didn't even take a look at my car-" He was stuttering. Lando was surprised and shocked. It's not everyday you run into a hot Italian women, that can fix cars and speaks English like she's from Chicago or Milton.

"What did you do to it. Were you racing with it? Drifting? Rallying? Or did you completely destroyed it, cause I don't have any carbon fiber or fancy doors and steering wheels."

"No." He replied to all of your questions. "Then it's fine. There's a gas station two roads south from here-" "You don't even know what the model of the car is." He argued, not believing you.

"You're Lando Norris, aren't you? its a 765LT Spider, McLaren." You answered with no hesitation, making the boy zip his mouth. "What do you want, Mr. Norris?" You asked again getting annoyed.

"I was told to look for, uh, Kiku was it?" He said unsurely. You sighed, grumbling a few Italian cuss words under your breath as you finished your current task. Rolling out, you stood up, lifting your tank top and wiping your face dry from the sweat, which in turn smudged some grease on your face.

Fuck not being attracted to Italian female mechanics, you were hot. Very attractive in Lando's eyes.

"I'm Kiku." You told him, handing him the greasy wrench. It was a stupid nickname a few friends gave you as a joke, and it stuck. You looked out at his car hand on your hip as you examined it. "Can you turn it on?" You asked as you approached it, ready to open the back trunk and check the engine.

Lando looked grossed out at the wrench, setting it on a random surface as he unlocked the truck. You examined the car for the next 15 minutes. "I can give it back tomorrow. It's not a big problem. Like I said, you're just out of gas."

"But the measure doesn't say that. And If it's just out of gas, shouldn't you be able to give it back today?" "Yeah. That's the problem, your fuel sender is lying to you and I have to change it." You patted his back, moving back into your garage.

"But I can't stay here forever." "What's wrong with this place?" You asked frowning, looking him in the eye. Lando was going to open his mouth before he closed it quickly. "Nothing I just don't-" why was he rushing? He didn't have places to be at the moment. ". . . I don't have a place to stay?" He answered, more like asked from how unsure of himself he was.

You looked at him for a few seconds. "You can wait over there, just don't touch anything." You told him sighing, nodding towards a few chairs near your office.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I'm not getting in." Lando refused, looking at your green car. Well it wasn't any green car. It was a classic, a Ferrari 250 gte. Highlight Ferrari. "Yeah, I'm definitely not getting it."

"Suit yourself, the coyotes here would not pass on eating you alive." You joked, not even sure if there were coyotes. "It's not everyday you get to eat a formula one driver, especially a British McLaren driver named Norris." Yea that statement did it for Lando, quickly getting in the car and closing the door after him.

"Good boy." You humed, not really thinking about it as you pulled out the driveway and made your way home. Lando could feel his face redden, hearing your praise, crossing his arms and huffing.

When you arrived at your house, the McLaren diver was quick to jump out first. "Think fast." Lando turned around, quickly catching the keys you tossed. He dropped them once he saw the yellow and black logo with a yelp.

You were laughing at him, moving to his side and picking up the keys, moving towards the house. "casa mia è casa tua." you told him as soon as you unlocked the door. Landor entered after you, copying you as you took your shoes off. The first thing the British driver felt was warmth, your space was giving him solace. This place felt like home.

"You can look around, I'm not going to take long in the shower." You set your bag down on the floor near the couch, making your way to the bathroom. Land did look around, he felt curious. You clearly knew him but he knew so little about you. While scouting for information he found your collection of music discs.

When finally came out fresh, Lando was quick to ask you about a few pictures he found. You two were quickly becoming close with one another. Sharing stories and jokes.

"What about this one?" Lando pointed to one on the grand piano. "Oh yea, I can totally see the picture, Mr. Norris." You chuckled. You were busy with your hands, making dinner for both of you ( you usually ordered out but it world be rude to do that with a guest around so you were putting your heart out in the spaghetti you wee making from scratch, something you knew would impress the McLaren driver ).

Lando picked up the photo frame walking over to you. "Why do you keep calling me by my last name? I have a first name, or did you forget." He chuckled looking at you. "Cause your first name sounds like London." You teased joking. It was out of respect, you did not want to get on his bad side, and it did sound like London just a bit.

Lando smiled laughing. "Well, I'd rather you call me by my first name." "Of course, Mr. Norris." You teased, leaning your forearms on the counter, flicking some flower on his face. He only held up the photo in return. "Oh, I remember this." You hummed, wiping your hand in a towel, taking the photo.

"It was before the last race for the European karting championship. I think I was . . . eleven in that picture?" Lando moved beside you looking down at it. You were in your kart, with your helmet on holding a thumbs up.

You took a moment looking at the photo, your father was sitting beside you on the floor, delivering the kart it's last few tweaks before the race. "You karted?" Lando asked, ruining the moment.

"No." You sarcastically replied, pushing the picture on his chest. "I flew planes at the age of two." You rolled your eyes. "Did you win?" "Hell yeah, I did. Do I look like some weak ass sissy?" You replied laughing. "That championship was mine. I Literally beat up Albon and Leclerc. "

"Really?" He was interested, leaning forward to listen closely. "What else did you race in?" "Just that really." You shrugged smiling. "Other than the karting track a few blocks down." "There's a karting track a few blocks down?" You looked at him blinking quietly. "I think answered your question before you answered it."

The boy looked away chuckling nervously. "Right." "I can drop you off tomorrow morning while I fix your car." You offered as you gently cooked the chicken alfredo. "Really?" You looked back at him deadpanning. "I mean, I'd enjoy that. Thank you."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Hey, I never got to ask, why didn't you continue with racing? You won the championship after all. We could've been competing in f1 together." The sun had already risen again and Lando was unwillingly sitting in your car as you drove through the town. "Not everyone is high born, Norris." You sighed, shrugging. "It's my cannon event. Besides, I'm happy like this."

After finally fixing the lying fuel measure, you drove the McLaren to the karting track, honking the horn to get the attention of the race car driver.

Turning back from the fence, Lando smiled upon seeing you lean on the blue carbon in the car park. "You fixed her!" "Of course I did." You chuckled, tossing him his keys once he was close enough. "You're free to go Mr. Norris." You chuckled getting off the McLaren and patting his back. "I don't need to leave just yet . . . by the way do you have plans next week?" "Why what are you up to."

lando.jpg

lando.jpg lesson learned, always carry a portable car mechanic with you

alex_albon ease my heart and tell me thats not who i think it is ↳ youruser long time no see alex ↳ alex_albon THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPLES YOU ↳ user 💀

charles_leclerc omg ew, kart theif ↳ youruser you're ew, you took my kart first! ↳ charles_leclerc it was a good kart ↳ alex_albon your only win ↳ charles_leclerc THATS MEAN

user who's that ↳ maxverstappen1 a nightmare ↳ youruser hey max ↳ maxverstappen1 BEGONE DEMON

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 2 months ago

Text

weren't we the stars in heaven? | m. murdock

a/n: hi guys. so sorry i haven't posted a full length fic about matt in a while so as a sorry here's a BEAST of a fic. i have nothing much to say about this, but i will say that i am not thrilled with the ending but oh well. enjoy! i'm gonna go take a nap but i am really proud of this so if you guys like it, let me know! warnings: oh boy. so many things. cursing, use of weed, drinking, matt is married but it's an open marriage, lots of religious imagery, sex, rough fucking, unprotected sex, no use of y/n, lowkey some mean matt smut, his kid is autistic but its not mentioned a ton, reader is hard of hearing but its only mentioned once, female reader with female anatomy, age gap, nicknames, ANGST, dirty talk, hella flirting and pining, just. it's a lot. word count: 9.2k (holy moly) summary: you develop a crush on a friend of your dad's from work. the only problem is that he's married, twice your age, and you babysit his son. pairing: dbf!matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: anything - adrianne lenker "lay on your lap when i'm crying/weren't we the stars in heaven?/weren't we the salt in the sea?/dragon in the new warm mountain/didn't you believe me?"

Spring

A week at home is too long. You think about how torturous a whole summer here will be. It’s almost enough to make you sign up to be a summer orientation leader or even a tour leader. Almost. The pay isn’t that good to stay in the dorms without AC all summer.

Of course, your mother asks you to go to church on Easter Sunday and because she did your laundry and cooked you your first home-cooked meal in months, you oblige her.

And as you’re sitting there, on your knees with your hands folded, your eyes peek open, beginning to wander around the church. It’s way too hot in this church, and you are bored out of your mind.

You realize you are the only one who is bored out of your mind. Well.. Almost.

Your gaze catches onto a man who looks just as bored as you do, only, you can’t really tell if he’s looking at you. You lean your head back and roll your eyes, trying to signal how god damn bored you are to him. He just smirks, and your heart flutters.

It almost looks like his smirk widens at that.

Your face flushes and you just put your head back down, closing your eyes as if you’ve been caught doing something you’re not supposed to.

Eventually when the service is over, you’re still thinking about the strange man on the other side of the church as you sip church lemonade that is way too sweet—But you’ve been up for hours and this is the first thing you’ve had since you woke up.

Your parents are making pleasant conversations with various friends they know, and you smile awkwardly at friends from high school. You almost choke on your lemonade when you see the man make his way out of the church, his arm hooked to a woman’s as he taps a cane against the pavement, a young boy next to them as well.

And before you know it, the family of three is approaching your family and your ears are burning red.

Your dad happily shakes his hand and pulls him in for one of those weird man hugs that you don’t really understand, as your mother does one of those weird moves where she presses her cheek against his wives.

Your father gestures over to you and says, “This is our daughter,” And he gives them your name, “She’s home for spring break from school.”

You wave to the kid, before shaking the wife’s hand, and then his— His hand is warm. Your heart is racing and you just shake his hand, trying to ignore the soft squeeze that accompanies the shake.

“Matthew,” He introduces himself like your insides aren’t discombobulated, “Matthew Murdock.” You just look at him, blinking for a second, and your mind begins to wander. How did he know you were rolling your eyes in the church if he’s blind? And how is he so hot?

You think you might die—Your face is flushed, and you think for sure that you’ve been caught, and that his wife will see right through this little charade and knows that you have a huge crush on her husband, whom you just met. He must know what he’s doing because he just smirks at you and opens his mouth to say something, but your mom just looks at you with a look of concern.

“Honey, are you alright?” she asks, “You look warm,” You shake your head with a soft smile.

“No, I’m uh.. Well, I think I’m gonna take a quick walk, find some shade—Excuse me.” You say politely, but before you can leave the conversation, Matt smiles,

“I’ll come with you. I could use the fresh air.” He offers, and you almost say no, but your mom smiles like she’s trying to fucking kill you—

“What a wonderful idea, You can tell Mr. Murdock all about your studies.” She offers, and something in your stomach twists with embarrassment—the way she phrases it makes you sound so.. young. So, you just offer Matt your arm, and he hooks his hand onto it like it’s casual.

And so, the pair of you walk through the courtyard of the church, eventually finding a bench where the sun barely creeps through the leaves of the willow tree that hangs over it, and the pair of you sit down, silence overwhelming you.

“So, what’s your major?”

“Oh, uh—English. I’m an English major.” You say, almost ashamed at how boring you sound, “And.. what do you do?”

“I’m a Lawyer,” he smiles. Your dad is a security guard at the court you have in town, so there’s no question of how they know each other.

“Your wife seems nice,” you blurt out, wanting to say something nicer to convince him—maybe yourself, that you really truly are not jealous of a woman you just met.

“She is,” he answers politely, as if that’s.. the kindest thing he can say about her.

“What’s your son’s name?” You ask curiously.

“Lucas.” He smiles fondly now, and your heart melts at the thought that this man truly feels nothing but pure, burning affection for his son. “When do you go back to school?” He asks curiously.

“Oh, tomorrow.” You smile, “Thank god.”

Then, he catches you off guard.

“That’s the most genuine thing you’ve said since we sat down.” He smirks, “Not a fan of your hometown?”

You don’t know how to explain it, not really—When you were applying to college, your mom asked you if you wanted to apply to any local colleges. And while you’re persistent that there’s nothing wrong with community college, you were sure that you needed to get out of here, or else you think you would’ve died.

But, you owe Matt an explanation.. Well, maybe you don’t, but you think you do.

“It’s not that,” You promise, “There’s just something about being here that brings out the worst in people.” You sigh.

His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, and while it’s subtle, you notice the way that his thumb rubs against your skin, and you might melt right into him.

“Don’t let anyone ever shame you for leaving.” He offers gently, and you think you just about fall in love with him. Then, his head picks up as the screechy tone of his wife calling for him interrupts your conversation. He just sighs, and makes a bold move—his hand goes to your thigh and gently, just barely, rubs his fingers against the fabric of your sundress, the tips of his fingers teasing your skin. “Well, I’ll.. see you in the summer then?” he ponders.

“Uh-huh..” You say, your eyes soft with want. Then, he walks right out of your life.

Summer

As spring melted into summer, and as you finished the rest of your finals, your dad picks you up from your dorm, packing everything you hold near and dear into his truck, and then starting the drive home.

For the past month and a half, you have heard nothing about Matt or his family. Sometimes, you ask your parents, ‘How’s your job, how’s the church’, begging for any crumbs of information about Matt. And you aren’t even sure why, because in your mind, he is very happily married.

It takes about a week. You sit, day after day, summer job hunting, waiting to be doomed to minimum wage and exhausting hours. Then, your mom comes home with groceries and a smile that you know can only mean bad news.

“I found you a job!” She declares happily, as you put the milk in the fridge.

“In the dairy aisle of the grocery store?” You question, and she laughs.

“No, no, I found you a babysitting job for the summer.” She smiles. “For the Murdocks!”

You squeeze the orange in your hand so hard that your thumbnails pierce it as orange juice drips down your hands, blinking before throwing out the orange, your hand reeking of the tangerine, fingers sticky with sugar.

“I’m sorry?” You manage to squeak out.

“You’re going to be babysitting their son, Lucas. They both work from nine to five, sometimes later. You’d get paid to just hangout with the kid,” She shrugged with a soft smile.

Oh, great. You’re gonna be trapped in the man’s house, looking after his kid. Fucking amazing.

But, you really don’t even see Matt, especially not the first day. Well, really, you barely see him over the course of the first week, but you get whispers of him, and it’s almost worse. You see his graduation photos, his wedding photos, a photo of him holding Lucas in the hospital.

You see his office door cracked open, you see a mug with his name on it, you see his wedding ring on the table—

You see his wedding ring on the table?

He’s elusive. But, from the fragmented sentences you get from Lucas, he tells you how his parents aren’t quite like other couples. Your mind is caught on the fact that Matt and his wife might not be 100 percent happy together, and then you feel guilty that you want to take it as an opportunity to comfort him, in the least Godly way possible.

Matt and Lucas’ mother will be working late tonight, she tells you in the morning, there’s money for dinner on the counter, and you can just relax until they get home.

Lucas drags you all over town that day. The park, the comic bookstore, and then you spend two hours in target, trying to find anything related to Bluey or Cars 2, the only two things he wants to talk about. Your body is sore from looking after him. He’s a very nice kid, but you recognize that he’s.. different.

Nobody in your town has a diagnosis, but you can tell that Lucas is on the spectrum, and you have every intention of telling Matt to get him a diagnosis, so he has the resources he needs to succeed in school.

But, tonight, you’re tired. Very very tired.

So, after putting Lucas to bed and enjoying a slice of semi cold pizza, along with flat diet soda, you find yourself in the backyard. Lucas’ window is open, and you can see the downstairs steps from where you’re sitting, so you’ll be able to see Lucas if he needs anything.

You’re sitting in a patio swing, letting your feet rock you back and forth. Maybe it’s unprofessional of you.. but you scrounge through your bag, finding your pen and turning it on, taking a long hit. You walk to and from work, so it’s not like you won’t be able to drive yourself home.

Then, you see Matt come in, and you freeze. Fuck.

You watch as he sets his bag down, slipping his suit jacket off after. Then, he tucks his cane somewhere safe, before his fingers begin to work at folding his sleeves up to his elbows. His fingers rub his temple for a minute, obviously exhausted from a long time. Then, he takes off his glasses and your heart skips a beat.

He pauses as soon as your heartbeats and he smirks when he turns towards the backyard door. Oh fuck.

He slides the patio door open and approaches you,

“Why are you outside?” he asks, sitting next to you.

“Uh.. Just, enjoying the weather.” And he laughs like you’re the funniest person he knows as he sits down next to you, groaning as he does, and your heart can barely take it.

“You’re a horrible lair, sweetheart.” He tells you. Does he know how desperately you want him? “What are you really—” Then he pauses, his nose twitching. “Are you smoking weed?” He questions.

“No.” You say, but as you breath out, smoke blows out of your mouth as you cough a bit.

“Oh my god—”

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t fire me—”

“Hand it over.” He says, hand outstretched, waiting for the pen. And not even for a second does your brain imagine denying him. It doesn’t cross your mind that maybe he doesn’t have that authority over you and you’re a grown adult.

In fact, you’re foolish if you ever thought he has no authority over you.

You hand over the pen sheepishly, but.. you’re caught way off guard when is fingers study the pen, finding the button and taking a hit for himself. You just watch him, mesmerized as he exhales through his nose.

“Sorry,” he starts, taking another hit before passing it back to you, “I’ll make it up to you.” he promises.

“It’s okay,” You giggle, a little bit from how comical it was, but a little bit from how fucking hot that was. Then, you take another hit, as he just rocks the porch swing back and forth, like he’s rocking you to sleep. The night is cool enough that the smoke barely rattles your lungs, and the intensity of summer has gone to sleep. Silence fills the air, as you just pass your pen back and forth, love in your eyes.

“Why is your wedding ring on the table?” You finally ask. You expect Matt to tense up, to scoff and tell you to mind your fucking business, but he just blows out more smoke before responding,

“My wife and I don’t have the most.. conventional of relationships.” He responds, “We’re in an open relationship.” He adds.

“Oh.” You breath out.

“Yeah. Oh. It’s more like.. She goes out and dates and fucks and I flirt occasionally, but that’s sort of a long title.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He takes a hit, “Oh.”

You don’t have anything to offer to that.

“Are you from here?” you ask, and he just smiles.

“No.” He says, and now there is true yearning in his voice. “Hell’s Kitchen, New York.” He responds.

“Do you at least like it here?” You ponder, as if his far away voice didn’t give him away.

“At first it’s fine. You try to fit in, just, make your way through, settle down. Then, you begin to hate it. You feel like if it sunk into the ground right at this very second, you’d die happy. Then, you become.. indifferent. You don’t mind the numbness of it all, you just stay perfectly complacent. Then, you wake up and are desperate to escape, like your own personal Truman show. The Matthew Show. Wouldn’t that be something to see?” He muses.

And again, you have nothing to offer but another piece of your soul, just throwing it out there,

“Would you date anyone?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, if you had someone you were really into, would you date her—Them, whoever?” You ask. “Whomever?” You ask, quieter now, mostly to yourself.

He smiles.

“If someone came along, someone say, who smoked weed, got along very well with my son, and was a horrible liar? Bonus points if she—they,” You suspect he’s making fun of you, “were an English Major?”

You tilt your head with a doe eyed smile.

“You remember I’m an English major?” He coos at you like you’re stupid,

“I remember everything about you, sweetheart.” What is wrong with him? What is wrong with you? Why aren’t you saying anything more to him?

“You know, sometimes, I remember the feeling of your fingers on my thigh when I touch myself,” And he grins like he knows he’s won.

“I bet you do,” He whispers, leaning forward so that his breath was hot against your skin, “Bad, Bad girl..” he ticks, and you can’t help but blush.

“Sorry,” You giggle out as your hand comes up to his face, just to move the pads of your fingers over his scruff.

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” he purrs, his hand finding your thigh again, the twitch of your legs not lost on him. “I don’t mind,” he hums. The weed you smoked is starting to kick in, and with it, your inhibitions start to slip away, your hand reaching so that you can barely touch his hair with the tips of your fingers. He takes another quick hit of your pen before taking your face in his hands, squeezing just a bit so he can lean in and blow smoke into your mouth, and as if it’s communion wine, you inhale, wanting every part of him you can have. Maybe it’s greedy, but you’ll atone for your sins later.

When he pulls away, you think you might just die and go up to heaven.

“I think..” You think so many things. You think that maybe he’s fucking with you. You think that this is a nice little dream that you’ll think back on when you’re old and wrinkly. The deepest, darkest, most insignificant piece of you that you pretend isn’t there, says—

What if he leaves his wife for you?

And you completely understand that you’ve barely kissed the man, but you never claimed that the deep dark part of you was smart, chill or even a little bit in touch with reality, only that it exists.

Besides, the deepest, darkest, most insignificant piece of you that you pretend isn’t there isn’t something you can ignore. Ignoring it is like trying to hold a beachball underwater—Eventually it’ll pop back up and hit you in the face.

“I think that maybe I should head home.” You finally answer, and maybe it’s the weed, but you see a flash of.. disappointment cross over his features. But that couldn’t be it, you’re much more pathetic than he is, he wouldn’t be so upset over you having to leave..

Would he?

But as quickly as the disappointment was there.. It was gone. Poof. As if it had never even existed.

“That’s okay,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and handing your pen back to you so you can tuck it into your bag, until the next time you need another hit. His head picks up as you glance over to door, where his wife walks in, putting her things down. He glances over to you, “Let me walk you home.” He offers.

You smile gently, standing up with him. You don’t say much as you make your way to gather your things from the front door, making pleasant conversations with his wife as he waited for you to get your shoes on. Soon enough, you’re making the quiet walk back to your house, and you’re accepting the swirling mess that is your emotions—Sure, he’s married, technically your boss, way older than you, and most definitely able to read you like a book, but there’s something about him that makes you forget all of that.

Maybe it’s just the general look of him—the salt and pepper hair, the stubble that’s just a bit too long, the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, the way his hands have just a few wrinkles and are covered in scars (from what, you do not know), the feeling of his hand on your thigh or the way his pink lips blew smoke into yours, the way his pants hug the curve of his ass, or maybe, you pathetic college student, maybe it’s the shine of his shoes, professional but just begging you to ride them.

Jesus, you’re too high for this.

But you’re almost certain that what did you in, the roots of your delusion, is the way he squeezed your hand the first time you met. You think, with the upmost affection, that your handshake was the most intimate two strangers could get on a Sunday in the blazing sun, the hypnotic daze of the light shining through the stained-glass windows of the church finally wearing off.

You want to tell him as much, to tell him that you haven’t gone a day without thinking about him since that day, that no amount of college students who ask you out for coffee have been able to drown out the sound of his voice in the back of your head, that the deepest, darkest, most insignificant part of you thinks that he might leave his wife for you.

But the walk home is silent.

You say nothing, but you listen to his breathing, calm, steady. You’re envious. Sure, he’s blind, but there is quite literally no part of you that doesn’t betray you, that doesn’t give you away.

He stops at the end of your driveway, and you hold your breath, waiting for him to speak. You can tell he has something to say, by the way he inhales, lips just barely parted. Sure, you’ve been an English major for years, but you’ve quickly picked up a minor in Matt Murdock studies.

“If I made you uncomfortable tonight, I’m sorry.” He starts, and your brows furrow in confusion.

“I’m—You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you promise. If anything, even though you were the one who said it was time to go, there’s a twinge of disappointment in your throat.

“Still—I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you or anything..” He starts, “Just.. Have a goodnight.” He smiles gently, his hand slowly, all too slowly, sliding off your arm as he steps away, but in a moment of, possibly THC induced, boldness, you grab his hand as he stands, arm outstretched to you. His sightless eyes hold onto you.

“You aren’t even gonna kiss me goodnight?” You ask, your voice vulnerably hopeful.

His lips twitch up in a smirk, pausing for a second, his head tilted in the most curious way. Like he’s waiting for the perfect moment. Then, he pulls your hand towards him so now you’re the one with the extended arm, like the two of you are dancing, pulling each other back and forth with an intensity birthed from desperation.

He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of it, something straight out of a fairytale. But just as quickly, he gently drops your hand, his eyes blazing with affection.

“We’re okay?”

“We’re okay.” You confirm with a soft smile, not wanting to dwell on any uncertainty that’s between the two of you. To accept that there is any uncertainty at all would be to accept the chance that this is as far as you two will get—lingering crushes and the ghost of a pair of lips on your hand.

He waits until you get back into your house, then walks down the sidewalk back towards his house, putting the idea of you in the trunk that sits in his armoire, only in the back of his mind, next to his old suit, his old friends, and his old life.

On Monday, you get to the Murdock’s house after Matt and his wife have gone to work, but before Lucas has woken up.

On the counter, a tiny envelope sits, your name typed onto the envelope. You tear it open, finding a freshly bought cartridge for your pen. A note falls out of the envelope, and it’s.. in braille.

You sneak into Matt’s office, pulling out a braille dictionary, and you quickly figure out that the note says, ‘We’re okay?’

In the middle of his work day, Matt gets a text.

‘We’re okay.’

When you tell your mom you got invited to go out with some friends from high school, she nearly jumps with excitement. You weren’t exactly popular in High School—that’s not really something you hide, since you’re now going into your senior year of college and you can admit that you were something of a loser in high school..

And in college. But, at your college, that’s more normal and even encouraged, so you run with it.

But your stomach churns at the idea of hanging out with the girls that you hung out with in high school—Wasn’t one of them married?

You knew from your mom, mostly, that the three girls from high school stayed very much in touch throughout their time in college. They were always closer to each other than you were with them, but you know that wasn’t really their fault. They were dumb teenagers just like you.

Maybe not inviting you to hangout outside of school was a side effect of being a seventeen-year-old, as so many things were.

You tell her that you have no interest in going out with them, but she tells you that you should have some friends at home! You want to tell her that having no friends was one reason why you went away to school, but instead, you text them back, asking what they had in mind.

So that’s how you end up in a bar two towns over, liquor burning the back of your throat, your head pounding and your ears aching. Your face twists into despair as you swallow the shot, not feeling as good as your ‘friends’. You’ve never been a fan of drinking, even feeling guilty when you took your first shot of communion wine when you were 8.

Your friends start giggling and laughing as you try to keep up with the conversation, a little lost, a sinking feeling in your stomach as you poke at the ice in your empty glass with a straw.

Then, the bartender comes over to you, placing your drink of choice in front of you, your friends pausing their conversation as she does.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t order that,” You say politely, smiling awkwardly to her. You wish you were underage, you wish you were anywhere but here, you wish—

“Actually, the gentleman at the bar got it for you,” she smiles, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, glancing at the bar and—

Warmth explodes in your chest, your heart beginning to thump loudly in your ears.

Your friends laugh a bit, shoving your shoulders gently, teasing you.

“You have to go talk to him,” One starts, and another picks up,

“He’s hot!” You smile shyly down to the drink in front of you and nod,

“Fine.” You hum, picking up the drink and walking over to where Matt sits at the bar, sipping a whiskey on ice. You sit next to him, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, and then his head turns to you.

“Why are you here with people you don’t like?” he asks, and you just blink in surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your friends. You don’t like them.” He says, and you just blush, embarrassed.

“How do you know that?” You ask, and he shrugs, taking a sip of his drink.

“You’re just.. quieter than usual.” He says honestly, sending you a sympathetic smile. You feel seen in the worst way possible. It’s like you’ve spent your entire life hiding, and Matt can see you for exactly what you are. Your face burns with embarrassment, taking another sip of your drink.

“Can we just flirt and almost fuck like we usually do?” You wonder.

“That makes it sound so much more.. casual than it is.” He pouts, and you just laugh, already feeling more relaxed than you had been before. And it isn’t even because of the alcohol, or so you suspect.

“What are you doing in a bar two towns over?” You ask, unsure how to respond to his comment about the casualness of your.. relationship, although that’s a rather strong word for what you two have.

“I was meeting with a client in town,” he responds, “Thought I’d stop for a drink before going home.” He says, and all you can find to respond is,

“Won’t your wife be mad at you for getting a drink when you could be home?” And he laughs, like you said something funny or cute.

“No, when she says she’s working late, she’s probably getting a drink and hooking up with someone. I thought I’d try it.” He smirks, and your face flushes. This is not a man who has any pure or holy intentions, and that absolutely turns you on. You have so little inhibition at this point that you simply lean forward, grab his tie, and pull him in for a long kiss.

Your nose twitches at the smell of vanilla, mixed with a bit of the whiskey, but quickly followed by just a hint of lemon. His hand quickly finds your waist, causing your posture to straighten as he kisses you deeper, his other hand trailing up your thigh, just like that first day outside the church.

The bar is dingy, so no one cares when he pulls away to finish his drink, then, straightens out his tie (which might kill you), and then he stands up, taking your hand in his.

“Let’s go,” he says quickly, pulling you along to the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. On the way there, your friends whistle and hoot, and while your face flushes, Matt does not seem to even notice. He opens the bathroom door without hesitation, like he knows it will be empty.

And the bathroom is.. disgusting. It’s dingy, dirty, but the sink looks.. clean enough. As soon as the door is closed behind you, Matt has you against it, his hands exploring your body as he kisses you, your hands instinctively going to his hair, as if you’ve done this a million times before.

His kisses are gentle, but invasive, like he wants to taste every single inch of your mouth with his tongue, and you happily let him. His fingers slip beneath your skirt, creeping up, finally finding the waistband of your panties, and he hums against your lips as if to shush you when you whine at the contact, his fingers slipping right under them to touch your throbbing cunt—It’s the type of warmth he’ll chase during cold, snowy days come winter.

His lips begin to attack your skin, kissing your jaw and your neck as he rubs circles into your clit, sucking up the breathy moans that escape your lips as he touches you. You’re soaking wet, and he wonders if you’ve ever been with anyone who knows where your clit is.

His fingers don’t even slip inside you, they just rub your clit with the attention it deserves, Matt taking your moans and how your hands grip his shirt as payment. But the movement of his fingers are too much for you, and before you know it, you’re squeezing your eyes tight, hands tangled in his clothes and hair, as you reach your first orgasm of many brought to you by the man.

He continues to rub your clit as you come down from that high, your breath getting more even, despite the way your skin burns and cum drips down your thighs. Then, he kisses you, jarringly soft—

“All that over some attention from my fingers?” He teases, that shit eating grin on his face. Part of you wants to tell him to fuck off, defend yourself, but you recognize, as does he, that he holds all the power in this dynamic.

“If I say yes, will you fuck me properly?” Because ‘make love’, despite what your mother and aunts always said, doesn’t seem proper. You two aren’t in love.. you’re in lust for this man—Or at least, you’re telling yourself that because of how desperately you want his cock inside you.

“I guess you’ll have to try it and find out.” He says, as if he’s not hard, his cock twitching in his pants at every little whiff he gets of you.

“Yes.” You hum, “All that over your fingers,” And he just smirks before asking,

“Anything else?”

“…Please?” And it seems to be the magic word, because he leans forward and kisses your cheek before adding,

“Good girl.” And at how excited that makes you, Matt finds himself practically fumbling for the condom he had put in his wallet the day he met you, but as soon as you realize it, you’re grabbing at his hands, trying to take it out of his hands, and his free hand finds your chin, gripping it just tightly enough to make your brain feel fuzzy, “What? What is it, baby?” he asks, and you have to take a moment before you respond,

“I’m on the pill, we don’t need a condom,” And a part of Matt’s brain that never quite grew out of the Catholic upbringing in which he was raised wants to remind you of all of the complications that could come with that, but another, stronger and more tempting part of his brain, the devil part of his brain thinks about the feeling of being buried deep inside of you, in the middle of this dingy fucking bathroom, with your ‘friends’ waiting outside, and he literally tosses the condom on the floor.

No words are spoken as he kisses you again, his hand that was holding the condom now working on unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, his free hand simply holding yours—perhaps the most romantic thing a man has ever done for you.

Eventually, your panties are rolled down to your ankles, and he pulls you just to the edge of the sink so you’re hanging onto him for dear life, and he just kisses you, and in between kisses he says, “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, just like that,”, and you trust him.

He pulls away from kissing you, to take your chin in his hand one more time and demand your attention.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he starts, “And it might hurt at first, but we’re gonna go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” and he kisses your forehead, strikingly loving compared to the situation that you have found yourself in. You wait, anticipation dripping down your thighs, before Matt slowly pushes himself inside of you, and as he fills you up, you moan into his skin.

There’s a part of Matt that starts shaking at the feeling of how tight you are around him. He lets out a low groan, his breath hot against your neck, as he bottoms out inside of you, his finger twitching a bit, aching to fuck you so intensely you’ll forget your own name..

But he resists, waiting for your grip on him to loosen softly,

“We’re okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“We’re okay,” You breath out, ready for him to move.

“Yeah, I know, baby, we’re okay,” he purrs, before slowly, agonizingly slowly, beginning to thrust in and out of you, only encouraged by your moans as they begin to pick up, thrusting into you faster, unable to resist the way you clench around him.

Your fingers barely scrape over his skin as he thrusts into you, his lips kissing your skin. He wants to tease you, he wants to tell you that you’re so dirty, letting a grown man fuck you in a dingy bathroom, but he finds himself lost in your warmth, unable to provide you with the dirty talk that he has dreamt of giving you for months.

But.. this is better. This is a well put together man, who falls apart at the feeling of your cunt, who shudders at the feeling of your hands on his, who tears apart at the seams of his being when your lips touch his. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to being an artist, mending and molding him with your hands.

It’s mesmerizing, and if you could, you’d stay here forever, letting him fuck into you like it’s his god damn job, slowly becoming faster, harder, more intense, never letting up, so you decide to push him—

“Need you to come inside me,” You pant out, and Matt won’t ever admit it to you, but he almost comes right then and there, not even bothering to give you a warning. Almost.

“I will, baby,” He hums, kissing your neck as sweat glistens his forehead, trying to push himself, trying to fuck you like you deserve, like he knows you deserve, his thrusts unrelenting.

Your thighs begin to shake as you claw at him, your breath catching in your throat.

“Matt- Please, oh my god—” You whine, “I’m gon—”

“Yeah, I know, baby, You’re squeezing around me so well,” He purrs, “C’mon, you can cum, you just gotta let go for me,” He advises, “C’mon, show me how good I’m making you feel,” And as you creep closer to the edge, your heart thumps loudly in his ears- You can’t help yourself. You’re sort of taken by the fact that when he’s breathless like this, you can hear his New York accent twinge out of him..

And that might just be what pushes you over the edge.

You cum with a moan, shuddered into his ear, panting as he keeps thrusting into you. The only time your mind wanders is rather briefly, as the way the stained glass windows looked in your church on the day you met him.

He lets out a soft whimper as he bathes in the feeling of you coming around his cock, the feeling of your hands in his hair, the feeling of your breath against his neck—he’s actually falling apart, and his thrusts only stutter as he comes inside you, deep deep within you.

Neither of you say anything as your hips pathetically roll, and he leads you down from your high as he slows his thrusts. For a moment, you both need to sit in the silence of your breathing..

And then, you start to laugh.

He laughs with you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks through laughs, tracing the side of your face with his hand, and you just laugh harder.

“You’re just..” You find the words, “You just exceeded my expectations is all,” and it’s so funny to him, that that’s where your mind goes after he fucked you so well. You’re adorable, he thinks, and he needs to keep you like this forever, stuck in time with his cum dripping down your legs.

When you both come down to earth, finally, he kisses you and says gently, “Let’s get you cleaned up,” And you happily oblige him.

He helps you off the sink, steadying you with his arms as your legs shake, holding onto him like a newborn deer, unsure of your movements.

But soon enough, you’re stable enough to stand on your own and the dawning realization hits you— you just ran away from your friends to go fuck a married man. And.. there’s so little regret—really, there’s nothing much at all that you feel besides an aching in your core for more.

He squeezes your arm gently, before asking,

“Feeling okay, honey?” he asks gently. And you just grin at him.

“Never better.”

So, funny enough..

You get grounded after your night out.

“Grounded?” Matt laughs as you tell him that, not at all caring that he has you sitting on his office desk, hands wandering your thighs, “You’re twenty one, how’d they ground you?” He ponders, and you huff.

“Well, my fuckin’ friends were telling their parents about this hookup I had in the bar, and their parents told mine, and they got mad at me—So now I’m only allowed to go to work, and then go home.” You huff.

Matt smirks against your skin, kissing your neck. He pulls back and grips your chin, tilting your head up to look to him, his thumb slipping into your mouth, pressing your tongue down.

“What’re you gonna do all summer, stuck in your big bad bosses house?” he asks, and you just roll your eyes as your face reddens. “Don’t worry, pretty thing,” he says gently, planting a long kiss to your jaw, “Your old man is gonna take good care of you.”

And you know he means it, too.

One weekend, your parents go away. They trust you won’t have any boys over, not even considering the idea that you’d have Mr. Murdock over.

He has his arm wrapped around you as you lay in bed, mumbling something soft in your ear. You roll over, admiring him for a minute, the way his eyes look.. he’s so pretty. You reach out and gently touch the skin around his eyes, noticing the scarring around his eyes.

“Hm?” You question, tilting your head. You didn’t quite hear him. He looks at you for a long time before responding,

“I think you’re hard of hearing,” And you can tell by the tone of his voice that he means it. “I’ve noticed it a lot, you always miss things when you aren’t looking right at people, and you’re always asking people to repeat themselves. There’s nothing wrong with that, I just.. You should be able to get the resources you need to help with that.” He shrugs, like it isn’t the most observant anyone’s ever been of you.

You lean in and kiss him, for a long time, your hand on his cheek. When you pull away, you take a second to breath before kissing him again.

“What was that for?” He eventually asks, a smile on his face.

“I just..” You shrug, “No one’s ever really noticed anything like that about me.” You feel seen, in a way that pulls at your heart. He smiles gently to you, kissing your forehead before responding,

“All I’ll ever want is for you to feel seen.”

The end of the summer comes a lot faster than you would’ve liked. You had a great summer, you tell yourself, you spent a lot of time at work with Lucas, smoking weed, sitting under the stars, and being with Matt.

But, as your move in date for your senior year approaches, and you begin to start packing, an anxiety starts to creep into you.

How will you say goodbye to him?

Neither of you have discussed what will happen when that day comes, but it looms over you like doomsday. Each day that passes, you get hit harder and harder with the realization that summer will end, and nothing will be the same.

And eventually, though you will and pray it does not, the day comes.

It’s hot. Blaring hot, hotter than you would’ve liked. Even as the sun begins to set, there’s a brutality to the air that does not provide any relief.

You’ve already said goodbye to Lucas and Matt’s wife, so now, you just sit on your front porch, staring at the house down the street. When the door to the house opens, you advert your eyes like you’ve been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

Soon after, you pick your head up to see Matt approaching you. He smiles to you, and you try to smile back, but your heart aches with the knowledge that this will be the last time you see him until.. well, you aren’t sure when. You stand up to meet him at the end of your driveway.

“All packed?” he asks. You scoff softly.

“Something like that.” You shrug, and he smiles.

“What’re you still missing?” You answer before you can stop yourself.

“You.” You say, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. Immediately, his arms are around you, overheating you in the late August weather, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. He holds you gently, as if you’ll break when he lets go, crying into your shoulder. His hand rubs your back as he gently shushes you.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, “I’ll be here when you get back.” He promises, and you know he’s right. But for the first time, leaving your home will be hard, and you do not know what to do about it, other than buy a candle that might smell like him.

You stay like that for a long time, longer than you care to admit, before he slowly pulls away. You look to him for a few minutes, before he kisses your forehead. He hands you an old Columbia tee shirt of his, one that smells just like him, and you clutch it like your life depends on it.

“We’re okay?” He asks gently, and even if it’s a lie, you nod, and respond,

“We’re okay.”

Fall

Adjusting to dorm life comes back to you quicker than you would’ve thought, despite your heartbreak that came with living. You and your friends fill your time with studying, smoking, and doing anything you can to distract yourself from the aching in your chest.

But, you can’t deny, that on nights where it’s too hot to sleep, you scroll through Facebook—yes, Facebook of all things, looking at photos of Matt, getting just small glances into his life from two hundred miles away.

And as the time melts away, you become more and more.. numb to the pain that stung so intensely.. But you also spend a lot of time looking for the cologne that he wore, and you won’t deny that when your roommate leaves for the weekend, you spend hours in the memories of the summer, with your hand between your legs, aching for just a bit of the pleasure he gave you.

You almost have a heart attack when your mom asks you to come to church with her while you’re home for fall break. Of course you’ll go, of course it’ll be your pleasure, mainly because you’re hoping—maybe even praying for him to be there.

When that Sunday comes, you spend an hour getting ready. You know that Matt is blind and won’t care, but maybe a part of you believes you need to dress all pretty for him. You even wear the sundress you wore for Easter Sunday.

Your thighs are already slick with heat when you get there, and your eyes scan the crowd for Matt.. and when you eventually find him, your breath hitches in your throat, just like the first night you felt him inside you.

You grin as you see him, all by himself, at the back of the church. You excuse yourself from your parents, making your way back to him like it’s your god damn birthday you’re so excited.

But as soon as you approach him, someone calls his name behind you—an old friend or maybe a coworker, and Matt walks toward you, and you open your mouth to say something your eyes following him, and then—

He walks right past you, avoiding you completely. Your face falls with disappointment, your heart sinking. Maybe.. he just didn’t realize it was you. Maybe. You don’t know, but it messes with your head throughout all of the service.

You and your family are sitting more towards the back, while Matt and his family sits in front of you—You watch him like it’s your damn job, waiting, waiting, Until—

He gets up, quietly making his way towards a door to the side, one that will lead downstairs and to a restroom. You begin to count to sixty, waiting so very patiently, before quietly excusing yourself, and following him down the stairs.

As soon as you open the basement door, Matt is pulling you further into the basement, to a deep dark corner, and immediately, you’re pressed against the wall, his mouth on your neck. You moan softly as your hands find his hair, tugging on it, as his hands begin to explore your thighs like a starving man.

“Matt—” You go to say, but his hand clamps over your mouth as his free hand tugs off your panties, his hand cupping your cunt as you roll your hips, desperate for more contact than that.

“You gonna behave for me, pretty thing?” He grumbles, and you nod against his hand, so he bites down on your shoulder, “There we go,” He mumbles, his hand coming off your mouth to pull your panties down, before working on his belt and his zipper.

Your hands work at his hair, trying to cope with the fact that he is not being gentle, in fact, he seems to be purposefully mean, like he’s trying to see if you can even take it. This is nothing like when he first fucked you—this is a fucking that is making you see stars, and will leave you in tears.

Two of his fingers spread you open, making sure that you’re ready for him to fuck you. When he decides he is, still kissing your neck, he thrusts into you quickly—unapologetically. He doesn’t care about much else besides chasing that feeling of you clenched around him. He bottoms out inside you and moans against your neck.

Then, his thrusts start. He doesn’t even pretend to start slow, immediately he is thrusting into you, harder than he had in months, relishing in the feeling and the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

“Missed your tight cunt,” He mumbles into your ear, “Missed how well you take me,” he hummed, his pace relentless. He’s trying to satisfy his cravings for you, but his attempt is messy and he’s losing his mind over the idea of not being able to fuck you for another few months.

“I’m—” You whine, your hair falling into your face, your brain fuzzy, “I’m gonna—” He coos softly as he grips your chin with his free hand.

“C’mon, pretty thing, cum for me—” And just like that, you do. You absolutely do. You don’t hold back, and as soon as he feels you clenching around him, he’s coming too. You don’t know what else to do other than let him ride his high. When he pulls out, his hand comes back to your thighs, beginning to gently massage the mess the two of you had made into your thighs, pulling your panties back up so that for the rest of the service, you kind of just.. have to sit with that.

Your hands stay in his hair as he cleans the pair of you up, and you lean in to kiss him, and he lets you, but.. he doesn’t really kiss you back. And it breaks your heart. Your eyebrows furrow, as you reach for him like a child, and he just grabs your hands, “Just.. relax, okay?” He sighs.

“Why are you being like this?” You ask, “You’re..” You struggle to find the words as he buckles his pants, ignoring your gaze. There’s something inside him that’s stopping him from being affectionate towards you, that reminds him that you’ll be heading back off to school in a day or two and his heart will break all over again.

“Go back upstairs, Honey,” he says, but you shake your head.

“No, stop ignoring me—”

“Now.” He says firmly, ignoring the nauseating feeling as the saltiness of your tears fill his senses.

“Fuck. You.” you spit out, and he’s not angry with you for your reaction. It’s valid, of course. He knows why you’re angry, he just fucked you lovelessly, in the basement of the church where you first met.

He doesn’t say anything.

But he listens to the angry sniffles and foot stomps as you make your way back upstairs.

Matt’s neglect made you turn a new corner, and as soon as you get back to school, you find yourself constantly working and studying. You can’t possibly think about the intensity of his thrusts, the sternness of his voice.

You can’t talk about it, you can’t talk to any of your friends about the way you fell in love with a married man, you can’t talk to your parents about how you developed such intense feelings for the man who lives down the street..

So, you study.

On Halloween, you get a little too fucked up.

You drink an intense amount, needing to wash away the anger you have for Matt. At some point, you’re sitting in your bathroom floor, leaning against your wall.

Matt does not answer your call.

But you listen to his voicemail like it’s a sermon.

Winter

After Halloween, you begin to drink water every day, you eat more balanced meals, and you cut back on your substances. Truly, you know you need to make a change. And you do—school work becomes less of a coping mechanism and more of your job again. You mostly focus on enjoying your senior year.

But as the winter creeps in, you shop around for a gift for Lucas, fondly remembering your time with the young boy, despite your interaction with his father back in October. You store the gift away and focus on your finals. By the time you make it home, you’re exhausted.

You sleep most of the day on the 22nd, and then on the 23rd, you spend your day unpacking and helping your mom get ready for Christmas. Before you go to bed, you wrap Lucas’ present, and store it away, not caring much to deliver it any time soon.

You tell yourself you’ll drop it off tomorrow, and you aren’t sure if you’d rather come face to face with Matt, or his wife. The walk takes seemingly forever, and you feel anxious the whole way there.

You knock on the door, and wait with baited breath.. When Matt opens the door, your breath catches. He looks really good—A grey button up and dark jeans. You just smile at him.

“Hey,” You breath, “Uhm, I was just.. I wanted to give this to Lucas.. Is he here?” You question, not knowing where else he’d be on Christmas Eve.

“Oh, he’s actually staying at his moms today,” And your head darts up.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Matt says somewhat sheepishly, “We’re.. Separated. In the process of getting divorced.” He confesses.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” He chuckles, “I guess It was inevitable.”

“Well.. Then I guess you’re not doing anything tonight, huh?” You wonder, and he nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll probably just have a drink and listen to Christmas music.” He chuckles. You ache for him to invite you over. But you don’t get to tell him that before he says, “I’m so sorry about.. October.” He sighs gently, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You say gently,

“No. It’s not. I was a dick, and you didn’t deserve that. I really am sorry.”

“I got over it,” You shrug.

“So.. We’re okay?” He offers.

You smile.

“Yeah. We’re okay.”

“Good. Because I’d really like to take you out sometime. Like, a real date.” He offers, and your face flushes.

“Yeah, that would be really nice..” You grin.

“No more sneaking around?”

“Well.. Maybe from my parents.. And it is kind of sexy,” You grin, taking a step up further onto his porch.

“Yeah?” He laughs, his hand coming down to rest on his waist. “Maybe that could be arranged.” He hums.

“Good,” You hum, and then you open your mouth to add, but he cuts you off.

“Do you want to stay for dinner? Tell your parents you’re keeping your old man company?” He hums, and your face flushes.

“I’d really like that.”

“That’s my baby,” He hums, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil fic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock #daredevil fanfiction #danny speaks to the void #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x fem!reader

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chrisevansleftpeck · 2 years ago

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Family Snuggles

Word Count: 777

Content Warnings: mention of wine, nothing else just pregnancy fluff.

DAD SPENCE

Wine night at Rossi’s. Shit. Normally wine night at Rossi’s was good, well, mostly the aftward when you and Spencer drove home and had some of your own tipsy fun. But now, it was just about the worst thing that could’ve been scheduled. Rossi hadn’t called for wine and pasta night in months and of course, once you’re pregnant, he wants everyone over.

You sifted through your side of the closet, looking for a dress or dressy pants and blouses of sorts. You decided on a silky olive-green dress, one that was form-fitting which wasn’t a problem for you yet because you were only about four weeks pregnant.

It was a little tight around your waist, but it still worked. Spencer froze in the doorway between the bedroom and the bathroom for a moment, watching you admire the dress around you in the standing mirror. “Can I say that you look maybe even hotter while pregnant?” Spencer asked, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Hmm. Thank you. You don’t look too bad either.” You looked at Spencer behind you in the mirror. He was wearing a cute black blazer with a plain button-up underneath it and normal black dress pants. Pretty much what he wore to work minus a vest. And damn he looked hot as always.

“At what point tonight do you think I can unbutton this shirt?” You turned around, placing your hands on his chest and running them up to his neck.

“After Rossi’s.” He said sternly with a smile. You threw your head back with a groan. “You're still trying to put off telling them you’re pregnant.”

You frowned, arms around his neck with Spencer’s hands relaxed on your waist. “It’s not that I don’t want them to know-”

“I know, baby. You’re just nervous.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

You sighed, relaxing in his kiss. “How are you not?”

Spencer walked you over to the bed, sitting you down so he could put your shoes on for you. He slid you into your fancy black flats. “Well for one, I’m not the pregnant one. And two, I’m not quite sure how much it’s hit me yet, I guess. I’m very busy taking care of you and your supplements and the doctor appointments that I haven’t really just sat with you or talked to the baby in your stomach. Maybe I’m distracting myself.”

Spencer finished the sentence quietly as he analyzed himself. He lightly touched your right foot, sliding the last shoe on. “You enjoy those ankles before they bloat.” Spencer laughed a little, up and sitting beside you. “Hey, I have an idea before we go to Rossi’s.” You say, Spencer nodding.

You scooted towards the headboard, laying down on the bed. Because the dress was form fitting, your very small bump was easier to see. “We’re napping?” Spencer asked, confused.

“No, come here.” You pulled him close, resting his head on your chest and placing his hand on your bump. “Family snuggles.” You whispered, feeling Spencer brush his thumb over your belly gently.

“Wow.” Spencer whispered, all choked up but you couldn’t tell with his eyes on your belly. “I love you.” He whispered, placing a small kiss on the bump, leaving a little tear drop on your dress.

You scratched the back of Spencer’s head, soothing him however you could. It was very real to him. Surreal at that. “I’m so excited, Spencer.” You said, letting him rest his head on your stomach, his face towards you. “Two to three more weeks we can hear its heartbeat.”

“I’m going to listen to it all the time.” Spencer laughed, inhaling deeply as he stood up. He loved intimate moments but they always caught up to him afterward. He exhaled, closing his eyes. You met him standing and gave him a small kiss.

“We can listen to it as much as you want. We also get an ultrasound tomorrow.” You remind him.

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Crap, right. Three pm. I almost forgot. I need to work on my list of questions.”

You let go of Spencer, making your way to the front door as he followed you. “Oh god, Spencer. Don’t bother those poor nurses.”

“They should’ve picked a different profession if they don’t like being asked questions.” He replied sassily, holding the door open for you.

You rolled your eyes at him, watching him lock the door behind the two of you. You couldn’t wait to turn that guest room into a nursery. You couldn’t wait to be a mom. You couldn’t wait to have Spencer Reid’s kid.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #fanfiction #fluff #cute #domestic fluff #dadspence #dad!spencer #criminal minds #criminalminds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff

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xoxovalrea · 6 months ago

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Ifhy. Fugishiro m. + !fem reader

🎀Based on this audio🎀

༊*·˚ Warnings- hatefuck-ish, rude words, alcohol use, mentions of weed, dom megumi, sub reader, smut

༊*·˚ A/n: pretend megumi is gojos bsf cus this isn’t like yuji😇☺️

༊*·˚ Sypno: You’re at a party you came for one sole reason, your crush. Just to find out he has a gf. Butt things work out in the end.

⋆·˚ ༘ * MINORS DNI🕊️ ⋆·˚ ༘ *

You liked gojo for a while. A while as in one whole college semester and two weeks during the summer. To back track you gave up on him after a party a specific party at that was of course hosted by the man himself Gojo and his dick of a best friend megumi. You three were friends you and megumi were even in the same classes but there was always this tension between you guys.

Anyways, your bestie nobara heard about a party gojo is hosting. Of course being the best friend ever she encourages you to go because “he might see how hot you are and tap that i would too honestly” you hit her and you both laughed in response.

Fast forwarding to the night of the party, you took a nap because shit you were fucking tired from all the beach trips you did previously throughout the week. You woke up two hours prior which was NOT enough time to get ready but who the hell shows up for a party the time it starts? You hopped in the shower cleaning off all the crusties and musties you had. You of course shaved EVERYTHING just in case Nobara was right. But you had a feeling the night would not go as planned.

There wasn’t really a theme but you knew it was a typical house party. So you threw on a black halter top and a beige mini skirt you didn’t really care about with some black shoes. You sprayed some type of sweet smelling perfume on and called nobara.

“Bitch pick up“ you looked at the ringing facetime call. She finally answered looking like she was driving. “Heyyy you look cutee girlie” she smiled at you. “Thank you pooka what the fuck should i do to my hair pony with a side part or down with a side part” she nodded and held up a 1. You quickly did your hair and headed out of your apartment complex and saw nobara’s white honda civic in front of the place.

“Hi my fav girl” you said as you entered her car. She was putting on some sort of lipgloss. She basically had on the same thing as you but with tan pants total copy cat. “Soo have you even been talking to satoru.” She questioned as she started heading to the party. “Yea a bit he is just so damn hard to talk to like just a few weeks ago he texted so much and now im unadded on everything” She looked at you with disappointment in her eyes knowing you’re gonna spend this whole party sulking over him. Funny thing is you definitely didn’t well for the record you didn’t cry at all but you got upset and other things but for the record you didn’t cry

See what you didn’t know is megumi liked you and hated the fact that you were wrapped all around Satoru’s finger. He hated the fact that you would stare off at him and just blank out everytime you, him, and satoru hung out. He purposely let gojo fall inlove with another girl and he would casually just let gojo ghost you. He went as far as to even setting gojo up on a date just so he couldn’t have you. He wanted you to forget about him in more than one way.

Anyways, nobara just nodded and said “maybe you should try his bestfriend he’s pretty cute” you looked at her like she was crazy “oh he HATES my fucking guts nobara. he wants me dead like the stares he gives me are the worst” you whine she shrugs her shoulders and adds “well maybe megs wants to rearrange them you know its always the quiet ones” she giggles as you punch her shoulder and blush. You guys arrive to the party at around 9:30 ish As soon as you step into the house the thick sent of weed engulfs your lungs. Yea you smoked every 5 months but that smell could be the worst but the best at the same time.

You see nobara walk off leaving you all alone. “Well just say fuck me huh” you mutter to yourself trying to find the kitchen. You see megumi pouring himself a drink a simple one at that rum and coke. “excuse me” you say pushing past him to get a cup and some pink Whitney and a sprite . He looked you up and down rolling his eyes and scoffing “all dressed up huh“ he says taking a sip of his drink. You finish pouring your drink, “yea i guess“ you laugh “well you look like a slut” he chuckles trying to insult you “you must like sluts“ you reply as you walk off to find nobara. Feeling his eyes piercing through your skull. Yea megumi was cute but his attitude was fucking terrible.

As you walk around you see gojo kissing a girl. You felt every bone in your body twitch with not with hate just sadness. Being honest you only liked his attention he was cute but his attention was amazing. The playful texts the calls everything it was amazing. You felt a tear run down your face and you walked upstairs towards the bathroom bumping into megumi who scowled at you.

You gained your composure after a solid 5 minutes of standing in the mirror with a burning throat feeling you couldn’t even cry. You sat on the stairs scowling and pouting at gojo and his new girlfriend. She was beautiful really really beautiful. You were snapped out of your thoughts when someone pushed you. It was megumi standing infront of you.

“Enjoying the view?” Megumi questions as he laughs. “Go to hell” you say looking up at him pouting. “Already there” you roll your eyes as he sits down next to you. “the outfit didnt work huh?” He pouts at you as you shift over. “You know you could probably fuck anyone here but your too focused on gojos dick” you roll your eyes again trying not to curse megumi out “you wanna bet?” You say out of confidence. “Oh you’d lose in an instant”

You remember what nobara said and sigh. You grab megumi’s hoodie and straddle his lap seeing his face tint pink. “Are you fucking crazy” you roll your eyes as if he isnt getting rock hard under you right now. “Your not even pushing me off dont deny it now” you laugh looking into his low glossy eyes. “Well fuck kiss me.” He says you hesitate a little looking at gojo who obviously isnt paying any mind to yall. You kiss him gently holding his face. You feel him get harder by the second as you grind on his lap trying to get some friction.

Megumi snakes his hands around your waist. He sighs a bit as he deepens the kiss and carries you into gojos room. He quickly opens and shuts the door pushing you against the wall kissing you harder. He hooked his hands under your bra cupping your breasts.

“You’re such a slut you know that right?” You gasp in response as he pinches your nipples. You think about how wrong this is especially fucking Gojos best friend in his room. You snap out of your thoughts from the feeling of being picked up megumi still dominating your mouth as he sits you on the bed. “Come on baby open that pretty mouth let me fuck it” he unzips his pants pulling them down along with his underwear. Revealing his pale colored dick suprizingly he was pretty big. He shoved his length in your mouth making you gag violently. He groaned loudly as he slowly thrusted in your mouth picking up pace by the second.

“So fucking wet and warm” he growled as he fucked your throat at this point he should be in your lungs because you can barely breathe with his length. “Look at me pretty girl” he said as he held your face you looked at him with cock drunk eyes and spit running down your chin. He rolled his eyes and took his cock out of your mouth. “lay down and spread your legs” he ripped your skirt off examined the wet spot on your panties and whispered a low fuck. Yes you hated megumi but fuck it felt so good to see a man look at your body like a starved animal. He kissed up and down your thighs leaving small marks, finally he slid your panties off revealing your arousal and pocketed them. He kissed the soft fleash of your pussy then licked a long stripe from your hole to your clit. You shivered at the sensation after a long minute of licking he finally sucked your clit making your hand jolt to his hair.

You arched and moaned as megumi ate you out. Really his tounge was skilled the muscle knew every spot inside and out of your body. “More” you uttered out in pleasure and he added two fingers in. You gripped his hair tightly from the sudden stretch he growled as you tightened around him. His fingers hit every spot you couldn’t its like you hated him for making you feel this good but at the same time you loved every second of it. You didn’t realize how this whole time he was watching expressions until he spoke “no come on baby look at me look at me and cum all over my face” you opened your eyes as your orgasm suddenly began building up you were seconds from coming eyes tearing up body shaking you came all over his fingers he lapped up your sweet liquids and came up to kiss your neck.

“Surprisingly you taste really fucking good” you scoffed at him he chuckled and slapped your ass harshly “Say thank you” you rolled your eyes “for what? Gojo’s probably better” you knew what you were doing you’re making him jealous it really fucked him up seriously. He looked at you like you were fucking stupid “Take it back” you laughed repeating what you said “really okay” he kissed you roughly biting your lip making it bleed breaking the kiss then flipping you into doggy style pushing your head into gojos pillows slapping your ass harshly multiple times then slapping his dick on your pussy. He slid it in quickly thrusting in giving you no time to adjust. Your eyes were rolling back head foggy not even 10 minutes in thats how good his dick was. You tried not to moan loud but megumi didn’t like it he grabbed your neck and yanked your head back to look at him. “Come on moan like the slut you are” you had no choice really you moaned his name loud enough for the whole house to hear luckily the music was up extremely loud. “Megumi fuck too big I can’t-“ he shoved your head back into the pillows he hated the word ‘can’t’ it just wasn’t in his vocabulary.

“Fuck megumi please im sorry” you dont know how many orgasms or how many positions megumi put you in but you know he wasnt even close to cumming and you guys ended up on the floor. “No no you want gojo right dont even think about moaning my name slut.” He smacked your ass harshly as he twitched inside of you as you came again. “Sorry ‘m so so sorry” you say slurred he laughs as he watches your make up run down your hot cheeks biting your shoulders again “awhh you want my cum baby? Or you want gojo to fill you up?” You shake your head no violently he doesn’t take this as an answer and slaps your ass four times making you scream. “Please you i want only you please cum in me please” you moan as he rubs your clit violently groaning and picking up his speed as be finally climaxes inside of you. “Fuckk baby you feel so fucking good” he shutters as he pulls out putting his cum back in with his fingers. Fingering you slowly to your last climax. You arch your back and cry his name as you squirt all over his fingers with a slight shake as you slowly fall asleep.

He picks you up off the floor and places you on the bed seeing you fall asleep. He laughs and puts on his clothes and dresses you carrying your sleeping body over his shoulders down the stairs letting gojo and nobara you guys are leaving. You woke up in the morning groggy and sore from last nights events, you felt a hand pull you in closer as you tried to get away. “Stop fucking moving” you rolled your eyes but obliged when the not so mysterious man behind you kissed your neck. “Megumi stop” you rolled over and kissed his lips softly as he looked at you with sleepy eyes arms still wrapped around your waist. He buried himself in your breasts and fell back asleep you did the did same resting your chin in his hair.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

THE END💗

This may be the last jjk fanfic I write as of rn😭 i gotta move on. Bye lovessss💗💗💗

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #megumi smut #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu megumi #loverzzlane

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hamborgerz · 5 months ago

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Starve a Fever (dpxdc)

Act 1: The Aftermath Never Looks Pretty

Scene 1: Hot Knife

Danny thought he was safe from disaster after everything he’d been through. He’d saved Amity Park from Ghosts and their Hunters time and again. Ancients, he saved the entire Ghost Zone—the Infinite Realms itself—from its very own tyrannical ruler when the fruitloop woke that damn Pariah Dark up from his forever nap. He even saved the world from his own future self, and it horrifies him to think about the thermos and its inhabitant locked away in the Long Now.

Yet, disaster strikes. It always has to in Danny’s life. Danny’s starting to think he was never meant to exist without disaster. That he’s cursed to forever half-live with everything crashing down around him no matter what he does. In another timeline, all it took for his entire family, his best friends, and the one good teacher in his life to be killed was him cheating on one stupid fucking test.

And in this one, all it took for the destruction of everything Danny ever cared about was for him to have a sleepover.

He should’ve known. He should’ve expected those bozos in white to try their luck again in destroying the Ghost Zone. Ever since they started kidnapping and experimenting on Ghosts, Danny has been working overtime to thwart them; he’s been endlessly ruining their bases, freeing their captives, and scaring them off of his streets.

But they’re like roaches, always coming back. It had gotten to the point that Amity Parkers, including his very own parents, got tired of their shit and started retaliating against their presence.

So, he should’ve expected this. Should have known that the GIW would take advantage of his parent’s portal once again. But this time, instead of the GIW getting permission to use the Portal, they invaded his home, killed his family, and shot a bomb into the Zone before Danny even woke up.

At least, that’s what Danny assumes is what happened, because there’s nothing left of his home to even figure out what really happened. If he had to make a guess, Danny would say the Ghost Zone acted on its own to protect itself, pushing out as much ectoplasm as it could to combat all the anti-ectoplasm that was shot in. Because that’s about the only thing Danny can think of that would destabilize the portal and the Zone that badly. The U.S. and the world is lucky that the explosion only took out half of Illinois.

Yeah, Danny thinks as he stares at the ashes of his home, lucky.

That’s what he must be too to have survived it all. From what Danny can remember, he’d woken up to the start of the explosion and didn’t even have enough time to transform before he felt like the portal opened up on him a second time. The tearing of his entire being, the evisceration of what makes him human—of what makes him a Ghost—and the subsequent nothingness until he woke up again.

It must have been weeks, months, maybe even a year. Danny couldn’t know for sure. All he’s done since he woke up is float above the remains of his home and feel every fissure in his core grow wider.

He failed them. Danny failed. He’d let go of his responsibilities—took a day off—and this is what happens. He’s lost everyone. His mom, dad, Jazz, Tucker, Sam—everyone. And there’s nothing he can do to fix it. He has no way to access the Ghost Zone, not unless he bows down to Vlad, if the fruitloop is even still around, or conveniently finds a natural portal. And even if he could get into the Zone and find Clockwork, it’s likely that if Clockwork could have done anything to stop this reality from happening then the Ghost would have done so already.

Which leads Danny to know this from deep within his heart, his core—

This was always meant to be.

Danny was always meant to lose everything.

The pain from accepting this breaks him, and all he can do is collapse into the ashes of his haunt and wail.

Scene 2: Genesis

Danny can't remember another day where his core didn’t throb, and his heart didn’t hurt. It seems like he's in a perpetual state of pain with his Obsession screaming from within him to fix what was done to his haunt, snarling at him to pick himself up and take on his responsibility (whatever that could be now that the Ghost Portal is destroyed along with his entire town).

Danny is starting to see how Dan truly came to be inevitable. He’s tried to block out his Ghost half by staying in his human form and depriving himself of any ectoplasm-rich environment, but his core still thrums with his heartbeat even though both his human body and his Ghost is weak. He’s so weak that he's even wound up passing out multiple times in random alleyways in random cities, or on the side of highways, walking toward a destination he doesn’t know and doesn’t care to figure out. If he feels himself coming across a place with higher ambient ectoplasm, he turns tail and runs.

What's worse is that there’s an anger within him that incites an even greater fear. It’s so strong that, in his lowest moments, he begs for the Ancients to be merciful. It’s gotten down to the point where all Danny can think of to stop himself from going ballistic is truly to bite the bullet.

But then he thinks about how Dani might still be out there, and it makes him continue walking. Vlad’s still missing; the fruitloop being the first person Danny tried to find, but there was no trace of him in Illinois nor in Wisconsin. Danny can only hope beyond anything that Dani might still be around, maybe even searching for him too. She said the last time they met—which from what Danny learned was around seven months ago and a month before the incident—that she’d be in the states for a while. A while being anywhere near one week or a full year. Danny desperately wants her to have meant a full year.

With no way to easily track his clone—the very last of his family, his people, his haunt, his responsibility—since every single piece of Ghost Hunting equipment blown up with the GIW and his parents inventions, Danny has been going off of his internal compass, letting his core direct him. It’s about the only thing that he lets his core do, no matter how much it screams at him to let out everything he’s holding inside.

Anyhow, it’s a very wishy-washy way of tracking since he’s trying to avoid areas rich with ectoplasm and other such places like Fawcett city that are so intertwined with the extranormal that they’re bound to affect his Ghost-half. He doesn’t know exactly where he’s being directed, but there’s a definite path. Every time he’s strayed from going due East, his core would roar and thrash within him until he redirects himself.

Danny almost regrets going off the whims of his core when he winds up in Gotham, a city bound to death and debauchery. He can feel his core sucking in every ounce of ectoplasm it can. The only thing keeping him from getting the hell out of dodge is the tugging on his core, the distant feeling of ectoplasm so familiar that he’d think it was his own if not for the fact he knows it’s not. If he digs into the feeling, Danny can make out all that makes Dani’s ecto-signature unique from his own, almost like an appraiser seeing every little detail defining an art piece as unique to its artist’s style.

Danny knows with every fiber of his being, even betting on his non-existent grave (something that somehow carries more weight than one would think), that Dani was at least in this city recently, if not in it now.

He drags his starving body through the bowels of Gotham, letting his eyes wander to the neon signs that mingle amongst the gargoyles. Danny doesn’t know much about the city, other than what his parents told him; of which was that he should never go there unless he wants to gamble his life away or die in a shoot-out between the various mobs, or in a rogue attack. He also remembers his parents trying to spook him with a rumor about there being a crime-lord so powerful that he strikes fear into the hearts of every criminal, rogue, and mob-boss in Gotham. A single man—the Batman, his parents would whisper as if simply saying his name could summon him even though they were nearly a thousand miles away—who stops at nothing to fulfill his mission.

Now his parents never told him what that mission was, but Danny really didn’t care to know and even just thinking about his mom and dad drives the hatchet deeper into the fissures of his core.

His feet, bare and bloody, scrap across the concrete, and Danny pushes himself to go faster as his nose picks up the actual scent of Dani—his clone, his cousin, his sister, his family, his haunt. Danny doesn’t even care that the nighttime stragglers—the gamblers, the drunks, the working girls, the homeless, and everyone else—are giving him an even wider berth as he starts to fling his head around, trying to catch the trail his core cries for him to follow. He forgets the pain from his hunger, the glass digging into his souls, and the strengthening of his Ghost as he finally, finally has a direct path to Dani.

Danny doesn’t even realize that he’s running until he’s already coming upon an abandoned building that’s drenched with ectoplasm. In the back of his mind, Danny makes the connection from the gaudy sign out front that this must have been some Ghost Hunter’s business, one that could actually do their job based on slight tang of blood blossoms. But the thought stays in the back of his mind until Danny rushes into the basement and sees it.

There, in the very center of the musty basement, is a circle of dried blood blossoms surrounding a very intricately written spell that Danny can’t make out because there’s a massive splatter of ectoplasm soaking the concrete. A splatter of ectoplasm that his core recognizes. A splatter that he lets himself drop onto his knees in front of, desperately grasping at the dissipating ectoplasm that smells like his own, but he knows it isn’t because it’s—

It's—

His core stalls like a car engine when you've pressed too hard on the gas. Danny feels the electricity inside of him crackle. Goosebumps spread across his arm, and his hair stands on end. The static in the air climbs, and there’s half a second before Danny’s humanity slips away in a lightning strike of pure white.

Danny takes that time to breathe in.

----

uuhhhhh okay well this is from my Thomas Wayne Batman thing here's the description lmao

Thomas Wayne (Batman) wards Danny Fenton (Phantom) after shenanigans and Amity Park plus half of Illinois exploding itself due to the Ghost Portal destabilizing after the GIW send a rocket of anti-ectoplasm into it. The Ghost Zone acted on its own to protect itself, pushing out as much ectoplasm as it could to combat all the anti-ectoplasm that was shot in. Luckily, it only took out half a state instead of the entire country.

#dpxdc #electric core au #dcxdp #i've got some more written up but it's like a scene way further in the future #anywayyy #maybe will post this to AO3 but only if I actually get to finishing up the first Act (which is short but whatever)

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instarsandcrime · 5 months ago

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Under the Weather

Oh my God @rosieknows you put me up to a really fun challenge!! Vo/x and A/la/stor are the two characters that are the hardest to write for me. But I really enjoyed this and it took so long because it became. Almost 7 pages???? It's a bit long and wordy but I hope you enjoy it, and that it matched what you wanted as a request!

Song near the end is Lady Luck by Ted Lewis and His Band from the musical "Show of Shows".

Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

---

Alastor would not call himself a reckless man.

He prided himself on his calculations, his patience, and a dash of eloquence for good measure. After all, you can't slice your game without a well-sharpened cleaver.

But if there was one thing The Radio Demon lacked, his one Achilles Heel, was the eye of Lady Luck. Today, for instance. All it took was her flick of the wrist and a winter blizzard had all but ended him. He trudged through the snow, steaming breath hot on his face as it carried on the wind. Without an audience to speak of, and a lack of energy to even hide his misery, he rubbed at a raw nose that wrinkled against the cold.

Sadly, his near-frozen fingers did little to ease what came next.

“Hgg’tshzzzt! Het’tchzzzzt!” He wrenched out, stumbling...somewhere. Strange, he seemed to forget where his path went. His mind began to frost over as a sudden dizziness overtook him from reaching…reaching…where…where was he going again? His snowflake-laden eyelids drooped, swaying on his feet as his impromptu nap was rudely interrupted with a stinging itch that didn’t seem to quit. He wrapped his arms around himself. Image be damned, there was no one around and he was determined to keep his warmth. He was absolutely not going to...t-to...!

“Het’TSSZZZEW! Oh, fuhh..for God's sa-sakeET’SHHHZ̴̠͕͝Z̵̢̛͓̅͛Z̷͈̈́̄̕T̶̢̛̲͇̫͊͛͐̈́!̸̱̟̰̝̗̃” He gasped for air, barely catching himself on his cane. Of course there was nothing more he could do, could he? He was all but reduced to a walking shell. There was no path. There was no opportunity. There was no plan.

“Well, well, well! If it isn't Hell's most ancient artifact!” The ghost of a memory lit through the fog that was just about to swallow him whole. He would be more grateful, if said ghost wasn’t the most annoying burr that dared to attach itself to him every chance it got.

So in the face of his prey he did what he did best: straighten his spine, tug on his lapels, and flash Vox a smile. Despite the fact that its edges were already wearing at the seams. Despite the fact that he felt his face tingle with a rising heat. Despite the fact that, no matter how hard he tried, his nose just wouldn't. Stop. Streaming.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Can’t take a little water? Is the ol’ machinery finally rusting over?”

“I'm ahh-- afraid I don't know what...what you mean.” Alastor cleared his throat to stifle a cough, uncomfortably aware that it did little to hide the rasp in his voice. He quickly pulled his handkerchief from his breast pocket to stall the mess, cringing as its soaked fabric bit the tip, flickering tickle building to a dizzying roar.

“Oh come on! Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look even older than you usually...do...” Vox’s sharp grin fell, screen flickering lightly as he leaned in closer. And for a brief moment, Alastor too was stunned to see the reflection that stared back. His shivering frame rocked his entire body, forcing it to wilt as pathetically as the ears that once stuck straight up. His nose was not unlike the color of his suit, feverishly flushed and twitching madly as he slowly lost the battle against an itch that never seemed to...to...!

“Hgg'tshhhew! Hih-Hegg’tshhhhew!” He let out another desperate set, and Vox yelped as he stumbled back.

“Jesus, fuck! Watch where you're pointing that thing!”

“Well maybe if you weren't in my way you w-wouldn't…h-hhheh..! HeT̴̗͓̱͘̕͜S̵̮͚̽́C̵̼̱̠͎͓̀̊H̴͎̬͓͎͓̋́Ź̸̧̩̺̪̝͗̒͠Z̸͔̟͖̒̑͘ͅŹ̸͍͚̝̊̍T̸͔̔̽͌!̷̢̰̯̳́̀̉͒!“

Unable to safely trust his sensitive skin with the handkerchief he carried, he helplessly sneezed into the crook of his collar-- to no avail as the obvious happened and panic began to set in. He could only mourn his sloppy state of mind as he doubled over again.

“Het'tschhh! Het’shh! ‘Tschhh! ‘Tschh’HEW!” Alastor could feel himself lose control of his body. A blur of tentacles broke through the snow, writhing and curling in agony. And though the street was blurred with irritated tears and overwhelming vertigo, he swore he could feel unseen eyes crawl up his back. Examining him on a butcher’s block, sharpened cleavers waiting for the right angle to slice.

“Stop it. S-stop-- kaff! stop looking at me! All…all of you...” Alastor protested through slurring words.

“There’s...uh. There’s nobody here.” Vox answered.

And all too suddenly the audience grew quieter, satiated– a fever dream that nearly willed itself into existence. But it didn’t matter. All The Radio Demon could do was fall limp into the snow like a ragdoll, landing with a sickening crunch, a sudden gasp responding in kind. If Alastor had the energy to laugh, he would. An all-powerful Overlord reduced to a useless toy. For once, Vox had The Radio Demon in his hands. He had the power to end his life. A limp ear twitched when Vox made the first move. The mounds of ice beneath him shifted. His opponent was thinking. Most likely deciding on how to kill him, or worse. A sharp row of claws slipped to his waist and...

...gently uprighted him, slinging one arm over his savior's neck. Then pulled close, fans whirring to life and soaking the android's wool suit like a soft bedwarmer.

And as two sets of foosteps picked up again, Vox grumbled out an irritable, “You're a fucking idiot.”

For the first time in his afterlife, Alastor couldn't help but agree.

The rest of the walk was a passing blur. By the time Alastor's eyes had opened and awareness returned, the ice between his bones had thawed under layers of blankets— though the ache between his eyes wasn’t quite as settled. He reached to massage the bridge of his nose, mortified to find that it was still horribly sensitive. He clenched his teeth and tried to will the sneeze back–

“Seriously? Again? Come on, it’s not like we’re on air.”

– as Vox continued to examine him, luck still run dry. He sat opposite on an identical couch, leaning over the coffee table between them.

“Why were you out in a storm.” He narrowed his eyes.

“I see no need to dihh...!" Don't you dare! "Di- snfff! dihh-! ...hhh...d-discuss my mundane shopping excursions.” Alastor breathed out, hiding a sigh of relief as the budding tickle subsided.

“Ouch! You have to be feeling like shit if your lies are this bad.”

“And why would I bother concealing the answer to such a ridiculous question? Are you really interested in my everyday activities? My, your obsession for me must run deep.”

A spark popped from Vox’s antennae. “Will you shut up and take this seriously?! I'm trying to interrogate you!”

Alastor hummed, unimpressed as his dulled eyes swept the room. Garish pink and gold wallpaper rudely invaded his vision, wallpaper and furniture alike littered with disgustingly gaudy hearts. And to add insult to injury, the hideous decor touted posters of a familiar Overlord's sex workers. The most famous front and center, proudly rubbing a quote on quote “sexy as fuck” smirk in his face. Well. At the very least, The Radio Demon respected his attempts to make that miserable masquerade of a smile real.

But still.

Eugh.

“You really must choose a more intimidating cell for your next victim. Unless you mean to torture me with sparkles and hearts.” Technical clockwork whirred irritably, flickering screen brightening at the center, not unlike a flustered blush. Alastor's smug grin widened. Pushing himself up on a couch that smelled of smoke and cheap cologne, he grabbed the cane leaning against an armrest, clutching the handle with a death grip. “Now if you'll excuse me, I-- kff kfff! I must be going. I can only entertain your antics for so long."

"Whoa, hey, wait! Don't you dare--"

The second Alastor stood his body swayed, caught in another wave of dizziness. He was pulled in all directions, pitching down down down-- and into Vox's arms.

“The fuck! I saved you from a double death, the least you can do is listen to me!” He spat.

“Oh? And why should I do that?” Alastor huffed. He couldn't help but feel humiliation return at the way he was cradled– cradled– bridal style. Slipped back into the makeshift bed, Vox motioned to the wall wordlessly. Slowly, carefully, Alastor followed suit, paling at the garish sight of his shadow. Its form dripped heavily like ink, clutching its chest and swaying dangerously. Its ears pinned to its skull, stomach heaving once. Twice. Until the tickle that still lingered brushed just under Alastor's nostrils and he found the damn thing mirroring his every feeling, physical or otherwise. He cursed, instinctively reaching for the ruined handkerchief in his breast pocket— when a box of tissues was unceremoniously shoved under the crook of his arm.

“There. There's your fucking reason. Now stay. Down.” Vox hissed through gritted teeth.

And through a string of curses, Alastor ripped two— three— five tissues from the box, bringing it to his nose. “Het’kshhh!! Het’kschhhzzt! Hehh…hekt-! Het’KSCHHHZZT!!”

His lungs finally gave out, collapsing back into the cushions with a hacking cough, wincing in pain.

“Y'see?” Vox snapped, “You suck at not dying but you keep tempting it anyway! How the fuck am I supposed to keep my viewers entertained if you keep doing that?!”

“Doi'g– kff! ...what? ETCHHḤ̵̡̰̣͌̽Z̶̧̠̙̍Ẕ̶̼̱̬̆Ź̵̦T̵̢̳̅͌̊̓!” Alastor wheezed out, blowing his nose. Dignification be damned, he was already saved by this walking, talking eyesore. He didn't expect to sink any lower. “I-- Snff! Ugh, pardon me-- I don't follow.”

“That!” Vox gestured wildly, “That whole ego shit you've got goin' on!”

Alastor opened his mouth to question when a palm pressed to his head. All words died in his throat, and the world came to a standstill, claws blaring with each mechanical beep.

"...102.4." Vox decided, "Ugh, no wonder you're dizzy. Your body's probably running on empty and…uh."

He faltered when he met Alastor’s face– eyelids fluttered closed, ears drooped. He pressed further into the cool, metallic palm, entirely hypnotized. Involuntarily peace only lasting a moment before he stepped back at the sudden telltale twitch of his patient’s nose.

"Et’schhhzzt! Heh-eh-S̵͇̓̀͜C̶̮̻̉H̸̗̃Z̵̛͎͋Z̶̮̖̀͋Z̴͍͎͝Z̷̬̼̀T̷͕̦̓!" He pitched forward, the reluctant caretaker yelping as he barely dodged another wild, uncontrollable circle of tentacles. Shivering, frost laced Alastor’s breath as the lights in the room flickered and darkened– only for a moment as he felt the weight of a comforter. He sunk into the sudden warmth, shadowy whips snaking under the floorboards and disappearing entirely.

"Look, just. Let’s call whatever this is a truce, okay?" An onyx-tipped ear twitched in response from under the hem of the covers. Suddenly, a piercing whistle broke through the darkness. When he opened his eyes time had apparently passed, and Vox was hovering over him with a mug of tea-- and of course it was the Fuck Alastor mug.

"How charming." He sighed, feeling the heat of the ceramic between his claws, relishing the steam that loosened his slowly growing headache. Taking another tissue, he pressed it to his nose to keep from sniffling back the loose congestion that threatened to drip.

"I can see why you wanted to sponsor that broken down shack of a hotel. You're all so weak it's sad--"

"Rosie's."

Vox blinked, "...What?"

"Let me be perfectly clear: I'm only giving you what you want so you will finally stop screeching at me." Alastor muffled in cotton fabric. "I was going to Rosie's to..." His static-laced voice trailed off, as if testing the right words in his mouth. "...treat this bothersome illness."

Silence fell over the room. Vox stared like he had just burst into flames.

"I, uh. Oh." He stumbled over his own stuttering before readjusting himself, sharpening his smile and definitely not wiping the shock from his mind. "I-I mean Christ, about time!"

The Radio Demon narrowed his eyes, doing his best to focus and not somehow slip into unconsciousness while lying down. "I am simply doing this for my survival since you won't leave me to rest-- koff koff! Oh-- koff! Oh, dear." He mumbled, sipping the honey-laced drink to calm his throat. Surfacing with a soft hum to test his voice. "Besides, my death by illness is far less entertaining for you than viewed on those tacky picture boxes of yours."

And from the way you aren't broadcasting my suffering in the first place, your current motives are far more personal. He wanted to add. But didn't-- for his pounding headache, mostly. He wasn't interested in another childish tantrum complete with competitive singing. Instead he felt himself fade again, and allowed it. If not to see Vox's angry face one last time.

The next time Vox woke, the couch was empty.

Good. Finally rid of that smug ass face and stupid fuck ass bob, he rose to his feet, stretching his limbs and popping his spine for good measure— getting his synthetic nerves back in working order. Finally free of that walking malware, he could finally resume his work. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the empty mug resting on the nightstand. Well, it wouldn't hurt to check the balcony. Or the mini bar. And y'know, behind the TV. Just in case the dumbass decided to slink into the shadows.

And as he stepped up to the screen, the sudden blast of snowy static made him nearly leap out of his skin. A rapidly beating heart in his ears calmed, making way for a distant melody that played on the radio waves.

--Come on show me

Show me that you've got it

I wanna see that golden smile.

Oh Lady Luck, I knew, I knew you should

I knew I knew you would be good to me!--

Vox quickly flicked the remote with tightened fingers, an annoyed sigh breaking the short silence.

He really could never read that guy.

#ha//zb//in//ho//tel//#snz #snz fic #snz request #a/la/stor #vo/x

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wolveria · 5 months ago

Text

The Anomaly Archives - Reality #004

AU of The Raven's Hymn

Pairing: SCP-035 x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Dubious consent, mind sex, tentacle sex, vaginal sex, 035 being 035

AO3

You gasped in a breath and automatically reached for your face. You patted down your forehead, your cheeks, even your nose and mouth. All you felt was sweat-slicked skin, too warm, but you ran hot after waking up.

Normal. Everything was normal. There was no reason to believe otherwise, because nothing ever changed no matter how long they kept you in this room.

Or rather, how long the Site Director kept you in this room. There was really only one man responsible, but you could blame the whole damn Foundation if you liked.

Your daily routine was a simple one: drink water out of the sink, relieve yourself, stretch, eat breakfast, exercise within the limited space, shower, get dressed, and most important of all, ignore the bastard in the center of the room until it was time to take him out.

Until instructed, you refused to look at the pedestal that seemed to mock you no matter where you stood or what angle you viewed it, should you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander.

You could only drag on the morning ritual for so long before they started making demands through the intercom, but at least you had a few moments to yourself before you had to share the privacy of your innermost thoughts with someone who didn’t know the definition of decency, respect, or anything that didn’t directly involve his entertainment.

Instructions were given, and you approached the pedestal and lifted the glass. The porcelain theater mask stared up at you as it always did, greeting you in a wide, jovial smile. It had no teeth, but you imagined them under the surface, bared and eager to sink into exposed flesh.

It was fortunate you were immune to his bites. If anything, you were the muzzle.

As you slipped on the mask, all of the influence it exerted on its environment, seen in the way it leaked black ooze, and unseen in how it eventually enslaved anyone in close proximity, came to an immediate stop.

SCP-035 was now an inert piece of theater costume.

Well, at least to anyone who wasn’t you.

Morning sunshine, he purred from inside your head. Took you long enough. You’re almost thirty seconds late.

“How would you know,” you muttered. You could respond to him completely in your own head, but you hated doing that. Made everything feel more intrusive than it already was, which was a lot, and at least this way you felt a degree less crazy. And having half of the conversation out loud put a barrier of separation between you and showed 035 that he was not welcome in your head.

You would be surprised the things I know.

When you didn’t take the bait, he continued on anyway, because his own voice was reason enough to keep talking.

Take, for example, your little friend with the long hair. Kaiju? Kirby?

“Kenneth.”

Half the time he falls asleep during the overnight observation detail. Richard got a mark on his record for trying to order whale jizz from 294. And Lucy from Pathology Section 3 and Phebe from Comm Sector in Light Containment? They’re definitely fucking.

You blinked—not because interdepartmental sex was going on, or that another idiot had tried to request cum out of the anomalous vending machine, or that Kenneth was once again napping on his shift, but… because of the fact 035 bothered to pay attention.

After a few seconds of thinking, which wasn’t easy when someone sat in your brain trying to metaphorically look over your shoulder to see what you were thinking, you said, “You’re bored.”

No shit.

You slowly paced the length of the cell, looking down at the progress your feet made without truly seeing them.

“I mean, you’re really bored,” you pressed. “And it’s getting to you.”

035 said nothing. That wasn’t a good sign, the bastard always had something to say.

Finally, in a flat tone, he said, There’s only so much petty human drama I can watch. Only so many small, dull lives I can overhear before I feel the incredible urge to crush you all like the pathetic microbes you are. And then, maybe, after I’m done ripping out spinal columns and crushing all that wasted grey matter into paste, I can finally get some fucking silence where I don’t have to listen to every stupid thought that escapes every minuscule brain in this shit-parade!

You waited until he seemed done with his tantrum.

“That bad, huh?”

You sensed the mental equivalent of a sigh.

It’s like a radio receiver that’s tuned into every station and blaring all the channels at once. All 2,518 of them. And they only play shitty music on repeat.

You’d known 035 could tune into people’s thoughts, but you didn’t know he couldn’t control it. That did sound kind of bad.

It is.

“What did I say?” you growled.

Sorry, sweetheart. Old habits.

You rolled your eyes but let it pass. You tried to hold conversations verbally, but sometimes a thought slipped through, and 035 was supposed to ignore errant thoughts and respond only to spoken words.

Funnily enough, most of the time he did follow the agreement. It proved more than anything how bored he was, that he would continue this arrangement and not piss you off too badly, because wearing 035 was the only time he got to connect with senses to experience the world.

Even if it was only from the inside of a concrete cell, that seemed to mean something to him. And ever since you had been accidentally locked in with SCP-049 and the Site Director discovered you had some kind of immunity to SCPs, your life had been one nightmare after another. Test after test, SCP after SCP, and Leahy had settled on permanent residency for you and 035.

Leahy had said it was a containment measure for the mask, not a punishment for you, but it was starting to feel like punishment for you both. Because while 035 had his powers suppressed when you wore him, including no longer having to hear the thoughts of everyone in Site-20, it apparently made it harder for him to ignore them at night when you slept and didn’t wear the mask.

That was the one request Leahy had agreed to. You didn’t want to sleep with the mask on, and the Site Director didn’t seem keen on 035 having access to your body while you were unconscious.

But that was the one allowance you were given. You couldn’t leave the room, or have any visitors, and the only change in routine was when the researchers gave you new questions to ask 035. Whether or not he would answer them seemed to depend on how funny he could make his answer.

You laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling, blowing out a long breath. Without you wearing the mask, ooze would be dripping from his eyes and mouth. He seemed agitated enough that there could have even been a few tentacles sprouting around the room too. They hadn’t made an appearance yet at Site-20, but you’d seen the footage of the Site-19 breach. 035 could turn a room into an inhospitable alien landscape in under an hour.

What if you asked about the TV again? he mused, and you could practically see the finger stroking his chin.

“They won’t go for it.”

I can’t mind-control a fucking TV.

“You think this is easy for me?” you asked sharply, cutting through his bullshit. “That I don’t get bored too?”

You tried to rest your arm over your face, then stopped when you bumped into the mask. Sighing, you folded your hands over your stomach and closed your eyes, but that just made 035’s presence in your head larger, almost tangible, so you opened them again and glared up at the concrete ceiling.

I know you do, darling.

Oh, he was trying for soft and sweet today. That was always entertaining, right up until he remembered it wouldn’t work and his wry sarcasm mocked you for something trivial and petty. That was almost a routine too.

Whatever. He could suck it up and deal with the boredom. It wasn’t as if either if you could change it anyway.

A new round of tests left you hollow and aching, and when you were returned to 035’s cell, you were surprised to find the mask had begun to leak black ooze from its eyes and mouth.

You went straight to the bed, ready to curl up for a nap, but the intercom ordered you to put on the mask. It must have still been the day cycle then, and you begrudgingly lifted the glass. You’d already tested what would happen if you disobeyed orders, and the last time you’d refused to wear the mask, the floor had been electrified and shocked you straight through your thin socks.

So, you wouldn’t be doing that again. As soon as you touched the mask, the black ooze vanished as if evaporated away. Wearily, you placed the ceramic piece against your face, and once it stuck, you laid down on your meager bed and shut your eyes.

“Don’t,” you muttered, sensing 035 nudging at your thoughts.

You’ve been gone for two days, love. Can’t blame me for being worried.

Had it been so long? That explained the ooze.

Oh, yes, I wept for your return, but the cruel jailors wouldn’t return you to me.

You stayed quiet and stared blankly at the wall.

Not even going to engage me in witty banter?

“No.”

All you could see was a young girl, kept alone in isolation, crying when you were eventually ordered to leave. You couldn’t even promise her you’d come back.

You know, it’s only the two of us, so it’s quite rude to—

“Fuck off.”

035 went silent, and he stayed that way. You couldn’t remember a time when he’d actually listened to you, and you savored it, eyes fixed on the wall as you let the hollowness eat at you in a way 035’s secretions never could.

After the second round of tests, you stumbled into 035’s chamber, catching yourself on the pedestal as your knees wobbled. Your neck ached, the bandage around it old, soft linen. You guessed it had come from 049’s bag, as you’d woken up on his autopsy table, your last memory of SCP-173 staring at the corner before you’d been forced to lower a blinded helmet over your head.

049’s soft gaze was a surprise, and his concern followed you as he was forced into the inner chamber, security taking you away, back to 035’s cell. Whatever 173 had done to you, it was bad enough the Site Director had ordered 049 to medically treat you.

You hadn’t even had time to thank him before they’d dragged you away, and you felt sick, your eyes shut tight against the images. It wasn’t only 173 that haunted you. 106’s leering grin and the hunger in his eyes lingered on your flesh, and all you wanted to do was take a shower.

But 035’s mask was leaking worse than last time, and after being ordered through the intercom again, you placed the mask on your face and crawled into bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

The first tremble was mild, but it was followed by another, and another, until you were a shaking mess, biting the blanket so you wouldn’t whimper.

Shhhh.

You automatically balked against the presence in your head, but 035 didn’t barge in with his intruding presence as he usually did. He was being careful, almost gentle, and if you’d been in a better frame of mind you would have told him to fuck off again.

Instead, when something warmed your cheek, like a caressing hand, you closed your eyes and relented. It felt… surprisingly good.

That’s it, 035 crooned softly. You have nothing to fear now.

But you did. The staircase that led downward with no end. The crying man who wasn’t really a man. 173 with its incurable hatred, and 106 with his more calculating version of the same wish to tear you apart.

The staircase can’t move, Skinny doesn’t want to hurt you, and the other two assholes can’t. Although, it looks like Peanut gave it the old college try.

“Who?”

You’re safe here, he reaffirmed, ignoring you. Another sensation joined the warmth on your cheek—a ripple down your spine, like someone was petting a hand down your back.

You thought about shaking it off, you didn’t know how 035 was touching you like this, and it should freak you out. But it felt nice, and if he tried anything weird, you could always take off the mask. That would be the worst kind of punishment for him, being cut off from all physical sensation, so you knew he would behave.

Safe as houses, he added, his voice low and smooth. You’d been so accustomed to his over-the-top showmanship that it was strange to hear him talk like this. Almost normal.

Safe as houses. You’d never really understood that phrase.

Me neither. Houses can have termites, black mold, or explode to a natural gas leak that has already killed the entire family—

“You’re not helping,” you said out loud, and you could practically feel 035’s smugness.

You’re not shaking anymore.

It was true.

Bastard.

The third experiment—which hadn’t been a test at all but a failed execution order—left you nauseous and bleary-eyed. You thought your blurred vision was deceiving you, but as you drew closer, you realized your eyes weren’t playing tricks.

Thick black viscous liquid trailed down the pedestal to the floor, worse than any other time you’d left, and you hadn’t been gone more than a few hours.

The light was dim, indicating the night cycle, but you didn’t wait for the intercom instruction. By the advanced state of decay leaking from the mask, you figured they would break the routine of giving you a nighttime respite

That was fine. Right now, you didn’t want to be alone, even if your only company was a sarcastic disembodied voice that couldn’t take anything seriously.

Just as before, as soon as you touched the mask the ooze vanished from its polished, white surface, but the oily substance dripping down the pedestal stained its surface. They would have to send D-Class in tomorrow in biohazard suits to clean up the mess, but that wasn’t your problem.

035’s presence filled your mind, and though you would never admit it, it was better than being alone. You curled up on the bed over the covers, shivering and too hot at the same time.

Mmm, 035 hummed in your head. I always suspected they’d kept 682 alive. He’s very hard to kill.

“So I’ve heard,” you said dryly, your voice muffled by the sheets. You shuddered, and by the intensity of it you knew there would be more following. You couldn’t get it out of your head, seeing the reptile anomaly being ripped apart and stretched inside-out again and again.

He was still there, right now, endearing torture that would destroy anyone after a few seconds. Maybe you should have tried. Maybe killing him would have been the merciful thing—

None of that.

Just as before, you sensed the warmth layering over your skin, soothing an ache you didn’t understand.

“035…”

You’re wound too tight. You’re gonna snap one of these days, and trust me, that’s going to suck for both of us.

You frowned. What did that mean?

Just… let me try something. If you hate it, you can dash me against the wall and step on me.

“You’d like that.”

He laughed. It reverberated through you in a funny, tingling sensation.

Come on, he said, warmth in his voice that actually felt genuine. What’s the worst that can happen?

A shit ton, for starters.

“You’re not taking over my body.”

Nah. You’ll have full control.

The warm ripple moved up your back again, and you closed your eyes as you tried not to shiver.

Just more of that. A simple massage, that’s all. I promise.

You didn’t respond, shifting onto your back to stare at the ceiling. This was a bad idea.

That’s how you know it’ll be good.

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

035 let the silence stretch between you, and okay, maybe he had a point about being so fucking stressed you were probably going to maul the next person you laid eyes on.

“Fine,” you said in a quiet huff. “But stop when I say. And don’t get weird.”

Yes, sir. Right away, sir.

You rolled your eyes but then closed them, resting the back of your wrist at the top of your head since you couldn’t touch your face. You imagined 035 would start gradually, like any normal fucking person would when giving a massage, and that was your first mistake.

Heat flooded through your body in a wave, like a dozen vague hands were caressing your skin under your clothes, and you nearly kicked the blanket off the bed.

You hissed through your teeth, “S-slow down!” trying to keep it at a whisper so you wouldn’t draw attention from the other side of the observation glass.

They’re not paying attention, 035 said, amusement laced in his words. Was that too much for you, sweetheart?

You glared up at the ceiling. He would get your point.

He sighed, and the intense feeling floated away, replaced by something more pinpointed and focused. It was scattered at first, and then solidified into what felt like a hand on your arm. You had to looked down to make sure someone wasn’t actually touching you, but you were still physically alone in the room.

“It feels… real,” you said doubtfully.

It is, he agreed. In a way. The only reason you feel anything by touch is due to synapses in your brain. I’m simply plucking away at them. I used to be quite the harpsichord player. It’s no different than that, if one knows what they’re doing.

“Uh-huh,” you muttered under your breath. It was getting harder to pay attention when a second “hand” joined the first, both of them rubbing up and down your arms. You didn’t think playing an instrument could possibly be the same as playing with someone’s brain, and you really shouldn’t be letting him do this, but…

But…

Relax, he purred. This won’t work otherwise.

You blew out a breath and let your eyes close again. It did feel really good, and he was keeping his hands—for lack of a better word—in the safe zones.

But it didn’t feel entirely safe the way the hands wrapped around your throat, and you tensed, but his touch remained gentle. He kneaded the nape of your neck, and you melted like warm butter, tilting back your head as if he needed a better angle.

Something… changed. Like a switch being flipped. You’d thought it felt real before, but it paled in comparison as a weight settled over you, a warm body pressing you into the thin mattress. His hands traveled upward to cup your face, not letting you move as his mouth covered yours.

You froze, afraid for a moment that someone else was there, had slipped into the room when you weren’t paying attention, but you could breathe through the kiss. No one was actually there, it was only him.

Before you could panic, 035 broke the kiss, but he didn’t let you go or move off of you.

Don’t open your eyes, he whispered across your thoughts. Don’t break the illusion.

You sensed what he wasn’t saying. Once in a while, emotions would bleed through the barrier, much more easily from your side than his. But sometimes, when he was feeling particularly strong about something, you caught a glimpse of it. Normally what you felt from him was rage at being imprisoned, but this wasn’t that, and the force of it hit you like a storm.

Aching, yearning, desire always denied, it slammed into you and through you, leaving you bare and open.

This time, when he kissed you, you didn’t reject it.

Warmth settled over and around you, leaving you surrounded by sensation on all sides. It was good, really good, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more of that sensation, enough to drown out the fear and loneliness and isolation. You wanted to feel safe.

You’re safe with me, he said, reading your thoughts as fast as you could think them. No one will touch you again.

You could almost believe it. Wanted to believe it. But he had no more control over the tests than you did.

Let me worry about that, he purred, the words caressing over your mind. You really should yell at him for continually reading your thoughts, but you were preoccupied by the unseen pressure of hands on your hips.

Your clothes weren’t really a barrier, but you still wanted them off. Slipping under the covers, you yanked down your leggings and underwear, and hiked up your gown so it bunched around your waist.

035 didn’t need another invitation; pressure delved between your legs, focused and intense, and you grit your teeth to keep from making a noise. So many sensations at once, too many to parse, like there were fingers plying you apart and a mouth latched over your clit, while something else prodded at your entrance.

It was too much but you still spread your legs wide, fisting the sheets for something to hold onto.

That’s it, sweetheart, the honeyed voice whispered in your ear. Surrender to me…

Even while being fingered and eaten out and about to be fucked by something that felt like a cock, you held onto your mental defenses. He could have your body, but he couldn’t have you. 035 wasn’t like most of the other SCPs, most of which were rendered powerless at your touch.

035 was bridled when you wore him, but he wasn’t powerless, even now. He was different from the rest, and you suspected out of all of the anomalies in the facility, he was the most dangerous. Whatever he was, he wasn’t just an SCP—no matter how much he pretended he was only a sentient mask.

Your thoughts were wandering again, and you sensed his amusement at trying to keep him out even while you groaned softly at the back of your throat. You were dripping into the bedspread, so wet you could hear it as he played with you, keeping you just at the edge and not allowing you to spill over.

“035…”

That’s not my name.

You trembled as he dragged his “tongue” along your clit, the prodding pressure at your entrance unbearably teasing.

“I don’t… know your name,” you choked out.

Do you want to?

No. Maybe. You didn’t know—

You trembled as he delivered a cruel flick to your clit, and then you groaned in frustration as he pulled away almost entirely. The pressure of fingers spreading your labia kept you suspended in trembling anticipation, but the sensations on your clit and entrance were gone. So was the comforting weight on your body.

You broke out into a sweat, grinding your teeth so you wouldn’t beg him to continue, but it didn’t matter if you stayed silent with how you were broadcasting desperation in every thought.

“Fine,” you gasped aloud. “Tell me your name.”

Anything to get that feeling back, for him to stop teasing you and finish what he started, but you sensed him hovering just out of reach—you could almost see the amused smile behind the mask.

Even though your eyes were already closed, you squeezed them shut.

Please?

Your silent plea reverberated back at you with a sense of satisfaction, along with a wave of desire that was poorly disguised. At least you weren’t the only one whose emotions kept leaking through the mental barriers.

The weight on your body returned, and heat warmed the side of your face as 035 whispered in your ear.

Dýo.

Something massive pushed against your entrance, and then breached it with a determined thrust. You opened your mouth to cry out, but 035 gripped your jaw and forced it closed as you twitched against his hold. And he was holding you down, trapped against the bed as he slid further inside, stretching you open until you thought you’d go crazy.

You tried to close your legs on reflex, but your ankles were pressed firmly to the mattress, along with your wrists, by something flexible and strong. And when they touched your skin, there wasn’t just pressure, there was texture and real heat.

Panic shot through you like a jolt, and you opened your eyes, twisting your head down to look at yourself. The covers blocked your view, but you could see the shape of flexible appendages holding you down. 035 shouldn’t be able to summon them while you were wearing him, and they only appeared during advanced stages of decay.

Shhh, he hushed you in what might have been a genuine attempt to comfort except for the mockery on the edges. I said you were safe. I wouldn’t lie about that.

You opened your mouth to shout in warning to whoever was in the observation room, but a scarlet tentacle shot out from under the covers and delved between your lips, forcing its way past your teeth, too far as you choked on it.

Another tentacle slithered up your cheek and over your eyes, forcing your head back down onto the pillow and smothering you in darkness. Claustrophobic terror surged inside you as you struggled not to gag.

The tentacle in your mouth slid out immediately and you gasped for breath, tears springing in the corners of your eyes.

I didn’t want to do that. He sounded oddly irritated; how funny your roles had been reversed. But you make every damn thing so difficult, Reid.

The heavy pressure inside you began to retract, and you immediately regretted the loss and reached out, wanting to be filled again, the emptiness making everything worse.

A deep, primordial growl echoed in your mind before he thrust back inside, pressure digging into your hips as if he actually held you there. And he didn’t stop, his rhythm picking up until you were being repeatedly fucked into the mattress, or at least it felt that way even if your body didn’t move an inch.

Your eyes rolled into your head, the ecstatic sensations pulsing through you so deep you feared you might be torn apart. The tentacle that had been in your mouth now grasped you lightly around the throat, and you arched your spine, silently begging for more.

More tentacles slithered up the bed and over your skin, around your legs and stomach and arms, even across your chest to tease your nipples with the deftness of a very flexible tongue.

And then a tentacle thicker than the others slid up your thigh, pushed between your legs, and forced its way inside, its smooth surface joining 035’s thrusts along your walls, fucking you bodily as well as mentally.

035 stopped talking a while ago, but you felt him entrenched just as deeply in your thoughts, wrapped around you so completely that it was an orgasmic sensation all on its own. You were glad you hadn’t known what this was like, otherwise you might have begged for it at the start.

You sensed his need, urging you to come apart, to give yourself to him. A tiny shred of resistance remained as you tried to hold on to your self, your identity.

The tentacle pulsed and squirmed inside you, phantom teeth nipped at your throat, and you shattered, breaking apart into a million tiny shards as you silently cried his true name in a litany of pleasure and surrender. It wasn’t intentional, but it was inevitable. All you wanted was for the bliss to continue, to never end, and 035’s presence wrapped and twisted around you until you couldn’t tell the difference between your thoughts and his. All that remained was sparking heat and ecstatic sensation.

The orgasm dragged on, tugging you past your limits as you twitched with overstimulation, and the pleasure you sensed wasn’t just yours. 035 also felt sluggish and heavy, as if your climax had hit him just as hard.

The tentacles gradually retreated as did the pressure splitting you open, and you whined at the absence. You were drenched in your own slick, and you really should get up to clean yourself, but you didn’t have an ounce of energy left.

Something coiled around you, but when you blinked your eyes open, there was nothing there. 035 had wrapped around your mind like a satisfied cat—or a constricting snake.

I’ll take care of everything, he lulled with his low whispers. Sleep.

Sleep sounded like a great idea, and also a terrible one. You really should take off the mask, but instead, you closed your eyes and basked in 035’s presence. Normally intrusive and cloying, his closeness was oddly comforting. Secure.

You couldn’t trust him, not ever, but as you closed your eyes, you allowed yourself to open up to him. Just a little.

Alarms blared from a great distance, slowly becoming louder and louder until they ricocheted in your skull. Your eyes blinked open, or… were already open, and you winced at the flashing emergency lights over your head.

You were holding something heavy in one hand, and when you looked down, the blank, lifeless gaze of a guard stared back at you.

Dropping the body, you shuddered backwards, confused and panicked. You were in a corridor somewhere, Light Containment by the looks of it. You wanted to shut your eyes, not against the pulsing lights but at the bodies strewn across the tile like broken toys.

Only then did you realize you weren’t seeing the whole picture—literally, your vision partially obscured as if you were looking through something. Your hands tried to touch your face, but smooth porcelain blocked your fingers.

“035,” you whispered, horror strangling your words. “What did you do?”

Your hands jerked away from your face, clumsy and uncoordinated, and you instinctually fought against it. But the presence looming in your mind was too large, and he quickly wrested back control, his movements smooth as he used your body to pick up a guard’s rifle at your feet.

He cradled the weapon in one hand, using the other to pull a level 4 security keycard from the fallen guard. He glanced at the card before twirling it between his-your fingers and pocketed it into the lap coat you were apparently wearing.

A grin spread across your face, so wide and obscene it made your cheeks ache. You fought against his hold, but his tether within your body was too strong.

035 attempted to soothe you, like someone petting an agitated animal, and you wished you could bite. His amusement was patronizing and unnecessary; you both knew you couldn’t break free. You had surrendered to him, let your guard down, and he’d finally gotten what he desired.

“I think the question is…” He spoke using your mouth, your voice layered with another underneath, silky and sinister. “What are we doing?”

His grin spread wide.

“Whatever the hell we want.”

#scp 035 x reader #scp 035 #scp 035 fanfiction #scp foundation #the anomaly archives #wolveria writes

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