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eatommo · 3 years ago

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Wake up call [m.m.]

Cw: age gap, sexual tension, intern!reader, Matt’s a hard ass, virgin!reader, little bit of corruption kink, size kink, possessive/protective Matt, d/s elements, mental and physical collaring, one-bed trope, daddy kink.

Summary: You work for Nelson and Murdock as an intern, and you volunteer to drive Matt to an important meeting a few states over.

Authors note: Thank you for all your patience with this fic! It is my favorite one I have written so far so please reblog/like if you guys agree! (here’s the sequel! Tear You Apart)

W.C. 8.4k

Some days, working at Nelson and Murdock was really fulfilling. Other days, Mr. Murdock made you want to shove pencils into your eyeballs and twist.

He was a hard-ass to put it nicely, constantly quizzing you on terminology, hassling you about errands you already ran, and constantly having you repeat notes back as if you weren’t paying attention.

Your uncle Paul had warned you about his temper but said he was a man who carried many burdens and you felt the very least you could do was offer him grace.

There were moments he was very considerate, he would often grab you something from the bakery if he stopped on his way in, or he would walk you home after late nights or offer to pay for a cab. He never made it feel personal and it always felt out of responsibility.

Nevertheless, he was also extremely attractive. He had smug confidence that radiated off of him 24/7, and you’ve witnessed him charm women to do his bidding more than once, and each time it had made your cheeks heat and goosebumps erupt over your skin.

Then, Foggy ended up unable to drive Matt to an important arbitration for one of your wealthiest clients, and you, unable to control your mouth, volunteered to drive with Matt for the 8-hour car ride just outside of Detroit. You even had to expedite a passport to be able to cross through Canada and save a few hours.

You were not looking forward to the quizzical and judgemental nature of Mr. Murdock for the extended period. But hey at least he wouldn’t be able to judge your driving skills.

The day you dreaded of course came quicker than you could hope, you even built a playlist on your phone specifically for the long drive, trying to keep it a modest mix of music that was inoffensive and popular, you also enabled the text to speech feature so if Murdock did want to play a specific song or even a podcast he would be able to do so without your help.

You arrived at the office ahead of schedule, the car cleaned out and smelling like a piña colada, you figured fruity smells were the least offensive as you knew he had a sensitive nose. Loading the paperwork into the car, Foggy strolled up to the office just as you were carrying the last of the boxes down.

“Perfect timing Mr.Nelson, I’ve just about finished packing.” You chided playfully, it was earlier than he was typically in the office, and he had probably come in to help you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you to be here so early. Because you know Matt’s either late or absent one hundred percent of the time.” He took the box from your arms and placed it in the back seat with grace. “Is Karen in yet?”

You dropped your voice a little lower than typical, “She’s inside but I don’t think Ms. Page ever left.”

“Sounds about right, come to have some coffee with us before you leave. It might be a while.” He motioned up the stairway, you nodded, smoothing your skirt out with your hands as you walked up the stairs at his heels.

Foggy was right Matt showed up over an hour after you were due to leave, and with your favorite muffin in tow, he handed it over in apology.

He must’ve fallen again, one of his eyebrows was split open in a gaping wound held together by a few butterfly stitches, and he had a nasty cut on the bridge of his nose that was also fresh.

You thought you noticed he was breathing a little shallowly, but you tried not to stare at him too long, afraid the others in the office might notice.

Foggy seemed concerned over Matt’s appearance as well, but he quickly let it pass and started running over their expectations for the arbitration.

You jot down notes in your workbook, while also having a voice-to-text app open on your phone so Matt can listen over them if he needs to.

What feels like an eternity later, Matt hugs Foggy goodbye and wishes him good luck. Foggy quickly gives you a brief hug as well, whispering a quiet, “Don’t let him get you down kid.”

You grabbed Matt’s suit from the coat rack and asked if he minded if you changed into something more comfortable. To your surprise, he laughed, “ I’m putting sweats on, so I am not one to talk.”

He went into his office to change, and you went down the hallway to change as well.

You stood in the quiet door office, picking at your fingernails to keep your eyes away from Matt’s glass pane on his door, you could see the shift of his body as he took his shirt over his head, replacing it with a dark blue hoodie.

Mentally slapping yourself on your wrist you pull your sweatshirt further down your body, making sure that it reaches below the curve on your ass in these leggings. You didn’t know how but if he thought you were dressed inappropriately he would say something. Despite you doing him a favor.

He emerged from his office, coffee cup in hand, cane tucked under his arm, and his briefcase in the other. Your gaze fell over him, he was wearing gray sweatpants.

You felt your brain malfunction, thankful that he wouldn’t be able to see your gaze settle on how the fabric clung to his form as you drank in the sight.

There would be no judging your leggings if he could be dressed in practically the most flattering piece of clothing a man could wear.

A brief image flashed through your mind, you wanted to see him hard in those pants. You could feel yourself get wet at just the intrusive thought of the sight.

You cleared your throat as quietly as you could, afraid it could come out as a squeak.

“Let’s get this show on the road, I hope you like Harry Styles Mr. Murdock.” You winked at Karen who was laughing in the kitchen and waving goodbye.

You settled into the drive rather quickly, the methodical movements of the traffic getting out of the city was almost relaxing. You didn’t get to drive very often while you were living in New York, you didn’t realize how much you missed it.

“So how’s life?” You spoke up over the low drone of the radio. You couldn’t help but want to at least settle into a comfortable silence after the typical small talk.

He snorted, “I guess you could say I’m hanging in there. Did you happen to pack any Tylenol?”

You tried not to laugh as he fumbled around the back seat looking for your bag. You tried to direct him the best you could and eventually he came across the correct bottle.

“Are you drinking drip? Or espresso?” You blurted before even getting a chance to stop yourself. Watching him from the corner of your eye swallow the pills and trying not to stare at the muscles in his neck and throat.

“Are we playing twenty questions?” He turned to you, a look of annoyance on his face.

“I’m sorry I just realized I don’t know your coffee order. I am a bit of a people pleaser so I wanted to know so I could get the right thing if I got some for you.” You felt your cheeks warm, embarrassed by your own stammering.

He took a deep breath, “I don’t really care, just as long as the coffee is good quality. The cheap stuff is hard for me to deal with.” He gestured to his face.

“Okay… so only the finest of coffee for you Mr.Murdock.” You tried to sound playful in hopes to lighten the mood.

His facade broke a little, “I’m sorry, I don’t like being away from the city,” he took a deep breath, “so what are you going to school for?”

It went on like that for the rest of the drive. You found that he was actually pretty funny, and very good at driving conversations in the direction he was looking for answers in.

You talked about your uncle, and Matt seemed to enjoy hearing a little more about Lanthom outside of the church. You did your best to try and plant seeds for further conversation at other times, hoping he would continue to talk with you.

You didn’t realize how much his voice was soothing until you unconsciously were seeking it from him.

You pulled into the modest hotel, there must’ve been a convention or something around because the lobby was packed and parking was a bitch.

You waited in line folding and unfolding the paper in your hands anxiously. Matt had brought his cane inside and with the crowd, he took your arm in his hand and stood over your shoulder.

You swallowed, god were his hands always so big? And warm? Jesus. You looked at the crinkled paper again and swore under your breath, “Mr. Murdock we’re hours late. Our check-in time was supposed to be at 4 pm.”

He gritted his teeth tilting his head in confusion. “I’m not sure we might have to find another hotel. I think I just heard someone say that they don’t have any rooms. There’s a comic convention evidently.”

You squinted at the room around you, and when you were actually paying attention: yep, definitely looks like the crowd of a comic convention. There were even people in uniforms walking around.

“I didn’t even notice, we’re almost at the desk. Maybe they held a room.” You hoped, not needing this trip to get even more complicated.

The desk attendant waved you two forward with a welcoming but forced smile. “Can I see your reservation?”

You handed the paper over, foot-tapping anxiously on the ground. She looked over the paper and immediately made a face, you swear you felt your eye twitch.

“Okay,” a few clicks of her mouse and her smile switched to one of faux sympathy, “So it looks like all our doubles are booked, and I can only offer you an upgraded single for the same price?”

“Well, is there at least a couch?” Matt’s strained voice startled you.

“The room we have available has a desk chair, a small armchair, and a queen bed.” She winced.

“I guess we have no other options, Mr. Murdock, that is fine, will you send us some extra pillows?” You ran your hands through your hair, you figured you might as well form a makeshift bed out of whatever extra pillows you could get, after all this was going on the copy card, and you could hardly expect Matt to give up the bed.

“Yes, of course, I would be happy to do that for you. Here’s a coupon for a free drink in the Billiard hall next door Sir,” Her voice dropped, almost sultry, “it's a very popular place for the staff to go after work.” She practically giggles out the invitation. Then against all practicality, she winks.

Without any sense of grace, you snorted. The two of them snapped their heads to look towards you, and you felt a little embarrassed but mostly for her small act of flagrant but wasted flirting gesture.

“Ignore her, I understand some things just come as a habit, but I hope you don’t wink at all your guests.” Matt chuckles back at the receptionist, licking his teeth.

You suppressed a shiver that ran up your back, and you felt uncharacteristically… bitter.

You rolled your shoulders back before hoisting your overnight bag over your head and nudging Matt with your arm to signal him to hold onto you somehow.

His fingers found purchase on your sweatshirt, you followed the signs leading you to the correct room. There was a braille label under the door numbers so you worried less about him getting lost, you made sure to tell him where the ice machine and the emergency exit on your floor was.

“I’m going to plug in your laptop and stuff for you and then hop into the shower if you don’t mind.” You set your bag in the corner next to the bed.

“That’s fine, I’m gonna go check out the pool hall, it shouldn't be long, but don’t wait for me just in case.” He set his briefcase on the floor next to the mini-fridge.

“Mr. Murdock please don’t go far. I won’t have time to drive all over town for you tomorrow before our meeting.” You knew that he was gonna do what he pleased, but you tried to reason with the business aspect of his brain, if it existed, after a beat, you added “I think I’d like to check out this famous staff pool hall.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, but you had succeeded in finishing the setup for the night before he could finish his words and shut the bathroom door.

You listen to music from your phone speakers as you let the water fall down your back. The tile bit into your forehead with its rough grout and you hear the door open and close. Air is expelled from your lungs you didn’t know was there, and you let out a slightly exasperated, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Your heart still beating out of your chest, you tried to piece together your thoughts. You had never felt so much jealousy before, and Matt had never spoken to you so much, and he never seemed to bother asking so much about you before, and he never made your heart flutter by touching your arm. All things that shouldn’t be a big deal at all. Yet you stood in the shower, with an incurable desire to know what he tasted like, what he felt like, how those fingers that squeezed your arm felt around your throat.

An ache settled in your core, and you turned the temperature down in the shower and let the cool water run down your legs until you began to shiver.

You turned the water off and almost slipped on the shower floor getting out of the tub. You glanced around and quickly realized you left your change of clothes out in the room.

You wrap yourself in a towel and open the door. Steam pours out into the much cooler bedroom, you bend down to grab your backpack when you hear Matt’s laptop slam shut.

You jump, falling over in surprise and letting out a startled gasp. “I’m so sorry I thought you’d left.” You scramble back against the wall.

“You know I can’t actually see you?” He chirps, that charming smirk on his face, you’d never seen it directed at you before. “If it wasn’t for your reaction I wouldn’t have even known you weren’t dressed.”

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, you can’t help but stare into the red glass over his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’ve never been exposed in front of anyone like this before. You just startled me.”

He furrowed his brow and tilted his head as if thinking a little harder on your admission than you’d like. “Fair enough, I was just checking the locks. I figured we could walk to the hall together if you’re gonna come hang out. I don’t trust all these people around someone like you.”

Someone like you.

What did that mean? Did he think you were weak? Or untrustworthy?

You bit back a sarcastic comment. “Thank you, I’m wondering if they will even let me in.” You noticed he had changed out of his sweatpants, and into his suit from this morning.

His gaze never faltered from your crouched form. “I’ll get you in. Don’t worry about that.” He chuckled, a hint of wickedness in his tone.

Words couldn’t form in your brain, so you stood up with your bag and closed the bathroom door behind you.

What was wrong with you? Your skin felt warm, and you didn’t have the sense of dread being around him usually carried.

He felt like he was a completely different person, he was smiling and talking to you as if you weren’t fetching his drinks or noting his interactions with clients. In fact, it made you a little angry at yourself, now that he’s treating you like a person he has you all flustered? Shouldn’t you be mad that it took him so long?

Regardless, you couldn’t spend too much time in the bathroom. You didn’t want to cause more weird tension between the two of you. Not when you had to sleep in a room together or make the trek home.

After running a brush through your hair, brushing your teeth, and putting on jeans and a plain black v-neck. You opened the door and cautiously yet amusedly called, “Is it safe to come out now?”

He laughed again, “Yes, you’re acting like I’m out to get you.” He stood up and began rolling up his sleeves.

“Aren’t you lot always out for something?” Your bravery shocked you and you weren’t even sure where you were piloting this conversation.

“My lot? Meaning lawyers? Or my lot meaning men?” He passed the topic right back to you, and your heartbeat almost hurt in your chest.

You opened your mouth to respond but hesitated, he capitalized on the opportunity and strode a few steps until he was practically hovering over you. “Either way, the answer is yes.”

You swallow hard, emotions you couldn’t register bubbling up in your lower stomach.

He drapes his arm over your shoulder and grabs his cane from beside the door. “Lead the way.”

You smiled and shook your head in amusement, trying to hide the heat on your skin where he was touching you.

You don’t know what you were expecting from a billiards hall, but it was definitely underwhelming. The whole joint had the sickly sweet smell of cigarettes plastered to the carpet and a musky smell that could only be explained by the near rotting bar top.

Matt’s arm fell from your shoulder and his palm came to gently rest on your lower back, “Can you take me to the bar? I’ll cover your first one.” He was clearly mocking you, knowing you weren’t possibly going to try and order a drink in front of him despite the legal protection he might be able to offer you.

His finger never left your back, and part of you wished you wore a shirt that was a little smaller so that it might ride up and he’d touch your skin, the other part of you wished you had more between your skin and his.

You silently led him to the bar, steering clear of wayward pool sticks, and grumpy looking gentleman. You tapped the barstool on instinct, indicating to him wordlessly that he could sit there if he liked.

The bartender approached you, and you nudged Matt to order first, “Macallan, neat please.” He put his card on the table to start a tab, then pointed in your direction.

“Um, can I just have a Shirley temple please?” The bartender was tall and had a similar charm to Matt’s, and flashed a bemused smile as he nodded and began making the drinks.

“You write my jokes for me, you know?” He quipped as you settled into the stool next to him.

“What? I’m not allowed to order a soda?” You feigned a hurtful cry, spinning the stool to look at him some more.

He hunched over the bar, the cut on his nose looked aggravated and painful, but the smile on his face would’ve had you believe he had the most wonderful day.

“You’re like a good little catholic school girl, you order Shirley temples and squeal at the thought of being near-nude in front of a blind man.” He leered, his tone only increasing in playfulness the more things he listed, “Don’t even get me started on the ‘Mr. Murdock, Mr. Nelson, Yes sir, no sir.’ stuff.”

The bartender set the drinks in front of you, and you reached for the stem of your cherry, eager to escape from his ridicule.

“I’ve called you other things, just not to your face.” You declared, trying your best to sound a little malicious.

Matt raised an eyebrow at you, and you all but smacked your head on the bar top at your cluelessness.

“Don’t worry, it’s endearing. Just don’t let people take advantage of you.” He conceded, the tone becoming a little more serious. “But seriously, how old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“You’ve got so much time. Lots of mistakes to make, people to meet, hell a few years older than you I was itching to leave everything behind and move to Europe.” He seemed a little shocked at his admission. You didn’t press any further, mostly because you didn’t want to scare him away.

“I know, that’s what everyone keeps saying, I just feel this indescribable pressure to not make any mistakes.” There you went again, Matt had this ability to pull things from the people around him, information, stories, hell you’ve even seen him pull confessions from unwilling clients. He was just easy to talk to, and you wanted nothing but to hear him talk back, so you continued, “I’m very thankful for the opportunities that you guys have given me at the firm, and Uncle Paul has told me so much about you. I love the idea of being able to do something good for people.”

He smiled back at you in between sips of his drink. You settled into a comfortable silence as you spun your chair around to watch a couple of the pool tables and the heated competition between teams.

After about 20 minutes, the receptionist from earlier showed her face. You felt your body stiffen.

“I thought I might’ve convinced you to swing by.” She practically purred as she waved the bartender over and settled into the empty chair on the other side of Matt.

“It’s hard to turn down a free drink.” He grinned, he spoke clearly and confidently, like he was addressing a courtroom.

Your ears felt hot, and you were fighting the urge to return to the hotel room, disgusted by the way this woman was laughing and touching on Matt in front of you. It was like every time she laughed she leaned into him like she couldn’t support herself. Yuck.

You cleared your throat, and took out your wallet, shaking out a few quarters before walking over to an empty pool table and pushing the coins into the machine.

You went and grabbed a pool stick off the wall, purposely avoiding looking behind you. Out of your peripherals, you see someone approach the table as you line up your break.

You straighten, the gentleman is about six foot even, probably in his mid-thirties, and is sporting short-cropped hair and a thick full beard.

You introduce yourself and offer a hand, he offers to join you. “I’m Aaron. Are you here for the convention?” He has a wonderful smile, and while you are not exactly looking for any sort of attention he’s willing to keep up a friendly conversation.

He was in for the convention, he was working it. He owns a small cosplaying company and creates and builds costumes for a living. As fascinating and riveting as he kept the conversation, you fought the drift of your attention towards Matt and the receptionist. Her hand was now resting on his thigh.

Eventually, he seemed to catch on, “Is that your date or something?”

You snorted, heat rising to your face, “No he’s my boss, I’m here on business.”

“Gotcha, I have a room across the street, did you want to come to hang out? I’ve got some cool costumes you could try on? And the drinks are free?” He was standing less than a foot in front of you, damn he was extremely handsome, and you’d never really gotten this type of attention before. A drink or two couldn’t hurt…

“I’d love to. Let me go tell him I’m leaving.” You smile back at him, as flirtatious as you could manage.

As you approached Matt, you were once again greeted with the unquestionable anger in the back of your mind, you watched as he leaned in towards her hair to say something to her that made her giggle. A sudden pain flared in your palms as you realized they were curled into fists at your side.

“Sir, I am going to go back and hang out with this guy I just met from the convention.” You cleared your throat for his attention. “I have my phone on me so text me if you need anything.” You turn heel, intent on not letting his words stop you.

And you don’t, his hand catches yours instead, “Who? That guy you were playing pool with?” His voice is critical, “You don’t even know him.”

Your logical brain is telling you to pull away from his grasp, but you can’t find the will to care.

“Relax, he’s just going to show me some stuff from the con—“ He shushes you mid-sentence.

“Excuse me,” he mutters her name, “would you give us a moment.”

She frowns but gets up and walks towards a group of people.

“I don’t trust him, he’s trying to use you.” Matt says to you in a hushed tone, “Just trust me on this one okay? Let’s just make it back to New York and I’ll find you another useless loser to fuck.”

You felt all of the suppressed emotions bubble up inside of you and you used the newfound strength to pull away from his grasp. “Who made you my keeper? You sound like my dad.” You spit, voiced barely above an angry whisper.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You like it when I tell you what to do. In the office, in the car, in the hotel room. You’re just itching for someone to tell you how to do every little thing.” He inches closer to your face, and you can feel his breath on your lips, “I’m not gonna stop you, but don’t come crying to me when he doesn’t fuck you how you need him to.”

You reel, pulling away from him and gritting your teeth. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. I don’t know how much more of your abuse I can take Mr. Murdock.” You fumed, hoping that Aaron couldn’t hear or at least didn’t care about what was currently being said.

He sat away from you, cocking his jaw to the side in contempt, chest rising and falling harshly with each bitter breath. You took this as your signal to leave.

You meet Aaron’s gaze and he hangs out by the door waiting for you, finishing the last of his beer. You take a single deep breath and step towards the door as surely as you can.

The two of you walk towards the lights of the hotel, the cold outside air helps your body cool off, but it does nothing to clear the fuzziness in your brain or the heat between your legs.

You glance at the time on your phone, it’s just past ten, and you have to be up early even if you can’t stand to look at him you still have a job to do. When you got back to the city, you would talk to Foggy about leaving, as much as it hurt to think about.

“I have an important meeting with a client tomorrow so I can’t stay for very long…” you spoke as clearly as you could despite the ball of emotion in your throat.

You grasped for the emotions you were feeling, struggling to put them in their form. Part of you wanted to go back and apologize to Matt, part of you wanted you to let this stranger have his way with you just to see if Matt would get jealous, and the last part you could identify, it wanted to kiss him with a force you’ve never kissed anyone with before.

You snapped back into reality when you realized that you’d arrived at Aaron’s room, suddenly the heat in your body dissipated and was replaced with ice water.

“I wasn’t expecting you to stay anyway, but before we get started Are you on the pill? My wife—” he began explaining as he stepped into the door and flipped the lights on.

“Hold on. Wife? I wasn’t coming here to sleep with you.” You took a step back, fumbling over thoughts and words that make your chest ache with every syllable.

“Yeah sure. You know what, this isn’t worth my time, I’m not here looking for some holy bitch.” His hands come up and he gestured at you to back away, and before you can even really complain the door is shut in your face.

You blink a few times, you were in a small state of shock. So many events had happened in the last 45 minutes you didn’t even know how to still your hands from shaking.

You began a slow walk back towards the hotel room, and for the first time ever, you hoped that Matt would be with someone else tonight.

When you got back into the room, you changed into the pair of silk pajamas you brought, lavishing the comforting feeling on your skin. Settled into the armchair you pulled out your current read and tried to hold back the embarrassment and confusion you felt.

Tears welled, and you sniffed a few times letting your emotions circle you like sharks around a lifeboat. Matt was right, that married man wanted nothing from you other than a quick fuck, and you were dumb enough to believe he was going to be kind to you?

Your throat turns to jagged pieces of glass, and you were afraid to move or the tears perched precariously would fall until you passed out from exhaustion.

You like Matt, you like it when he’s nice to you, you like it when he’s mean to you, but only because you understand he wants you to be the person he knows you can be. He pushes your buttons, he tests your boundaries, but you feel it in the way he speaks with you, the gentle way he holds your arm when you’re assisting him, he’s not indifferent to you. He might even like you.

Your shoulders shake with laughter at the thought of him caressing your cheek, or kissing your forehead with those pretty pink lips of his. The sadness fell over you again, you would never know, even if he was attracted to you there’s no way anything could happen, he was your boss, and he was older and had different priorities…

You felt flayed, like your muscles and veins were exposed to this emotion, heartbreak you realized, for the first time it felt like the air in the room was touching the most fragile parts of your mind.

Everywhere you looked reminded you of him, the braille display for his laptop sat inches from your elbow on the desk, and his sweatshirt lay on the back of the chair you were sitting in. You could smell his skin, like coffee, brick walls, and the musky scent of his deodorant, but there was a sweeter smell, and you realized it was from the air freshener in your car.

Click

The door screeched open, and you rushed to wipe the tears off your face, half expecting to be met with Matt and the receptionist. Matt’s cane ran into the wall as he struggled to shove the door open and fold it up at the same time.

Your muscles strained as your brain willed you to stay still, “Hey Matt, I’m here. Things didn’t work out..” You let your voice trail off, hoping the conversation would die.

He snickered, grabbing his bag from in front of you, you could smell the spice-rich alcohol on his breath, “I told you so.”

You let out an agitated sigh, “I don’t want to have this conversation now. I’m just gonna make a little nest on this side of the bed and go to sleep.”

“What? No. I’m taking the floor.” He began to unbutton his shirt, kicking off his shoes at the same time.

“Sir, don’t be ridiculous, you guys paid for the room, let me and my young bones lay on the floor.”

He took his shirt off, and at first, you tried not to stare, but the deep purple bruises and the lacerations in various states of healing held your attention. “What happened to you?”

This time you stood, approaching him like one might an injured animal.

“I like to box, it keeps my brain sharp.” His head tilted toward you, practically nuzzled into your hair with how closely you examined him.

“How does a blind man box?” You ran your fingers over a heeled scar just under his peck.

“Poorly it seems.”

He shuddered under your touch, you bent down to look at a cut on his side, “I’m gonna clean this up a bit, it looks aggravated. Hopefully the other guy looked worse.”

“Didn’t see him.” Matt’s smartass comments were the least worrisome thing on your mind, “Were you crying?”.

You still, “No? Why would you think that.” You look into the red of his glasses and admire his face, fingers twitching on his chest.

“Your voice sounds different.” He states, not elaborating further. “Nevermind, it’s getting late, we should get ready for bed.”

“I'm already in my pajamas, and I’ve got some pillows on the floor. Just try not to step on me in the middle of the night.” You withdraw your hand, immediately craving the heat of his skin again.

“What if I’m stubborn enough to sleep on the floor out of spite? Then will you take the bed?” He reaches down to unbutton his pants, your skin gets hot and you force yourself to look away.

“What’s the point of the argument then? We’re adults, couldn’t we share?” Your voice breaks as more of the sentence come out, unable to stop yourself from speaking.

“Deal.”

“What?! You agreed to that but won’t agree to me taking the floor.” The air in your lungs burns, and you cough in surprise.

He raises his hands in defense, “It was you that said it not me.”

You roll your eyes, sitting on the bed in defeat for a moment, then getting up and picking up the pillows off the ground and laying them in a line down the middle of the bed.

“What are you doing?” You glance up at his voice, he’s standing with his hands at his waist and nothing but a sleek pair of briefs on. The heat between your legs is undeniable.

“Making a wall of pillows, you treat me like a child, I’m going to act like one.” You did your damndest to make your voice sound condescending, but it came out sounding more like a child.

His expression softened, “Look, I–”, you cleared your throat to cut him off. You grabbed your book from the desk and went and settled on the side of the bed that was closest to the single window.

“I can’t believe this is the first time I'm sharing a bed with someone and I can’t even stand you.” You whisper to yourself, holding your book over your face in a mixture of exhaustion and frustration.

You wished you couldn’t see him, his doe eyes had a hint of sadness that wasn’t anywhere else on his face. He settled into the bed next to you, heat pooling in your face as you realize he didn’t put anything other than his boxers on.

“What time are we getting up tomorrow? Should I set an alarm?” You lift your head to peek at him, and to your surprise, he’s facing you.

“The meeting is at 10, we could probably get there in 20 minutes or so according to Foggy, so we’ll get up around 8? Time for breakfast.” His voice is hushed, and wavering just a touch, if you hadn’t heard him speak every day for the last few months you wouldn’t have noticed.

“Are you okay? Do you need more Tylenol?” You sit up a little more, ready to get up and grab your bag.

“No it’s okay, I just don’t like being away from the city.” The cut on his nose stood in stark contrast next to the white of the pillowcase.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You feel incredibly small next to him, the bed feels impossibly large and small at the same time.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all those things to you.” Your gaze followed his blank stare as he propped himself up on an elbow, “I am letting… things get in the way of your experience with the firm, and I shouldn’t behave like that. I'm sorry.”

His apology was written in his posture and was evident in his tone. He was genuine. “What things? Is there something I’m doing wrong?”

“It’s nothing you’re doing consciously. I’ll leave it at that.” His voice trails off before mumbling, “You’re in my head.”

You move the pillow that separates your faces, “I love being around you, I know I probably shouldn’t, but it makes me feel…good.” Your heart is in your ears, and each breath feels like it could be your last.

He shifts slightly, moving ever closer to you. Suddenly you’re hit with the impulse to kiss him, it’s like two magnets that had pushed each other away so harshly they flipped and now they‘re pulling towards each other with the same fierceness.

You inched closer to him, electricity bouncing off your skin. You studied his face, this close to him he had a lot of tiny scars on his cheekbones, and his eyebrows had little chunks missing from them from faded scars, but he was breathtaking. His eyes fluttered shut as if they felt you look at him, and he was basking in the heat of your gaze.

“Matt?” Your voice broke into the room before you could comprehend the words you were saying, “I want you to be the one to show me.”

His shoulders lifted with a deep breath, “Show you what?” He brought his hand up the bed to rest between the two of your faces, and you looked at his scarred knuckles longingly. You wanted them to touch you, you wanted them to card through your hair, you wanted them to make you cum.

“Everything, show me what I need, tell me what to like, make me feel good.” You slowly brought a nervous hand to his cheek. To your surprise, he didn’t turn away, he lifted his head and kissed the palm of your hand, and heat flooded between your legs.

He pulls himself over your little pillow wall in a fluid motion, settling next to you but not allowing himself to touch you as his finger twitches at his side.

“Can I kiss you?” He speaks, and it’s almost as if the words release you from chains. You lean into him, gently placing your lips on his, tasting the expensive liquor on his breath.

You’re done fighting your instincts, you run a cold hand up his abdomen, dragging it slowly until you reach his neck. You pull him closer to you, shifting your body to press against him.

The thick line of his cock pressed into your thigh, you shift against it. Eager to please him but not quite knowing how.

He groans, his fingers finally allowing purchase on your hips, pulling you against him harshly.

“Are you sure you want this?” You both speak in unison, and you're touched that he is asking for your permission, despite the eagerness your body is displaying for him.

“Yes, please Mr. Murdock. As long as you’re not—” You breathe, biting at his lower lip, begging for him to continue.

“I’ve wanted you since we first met. I’ve dreamt of filling that sweet mouth of yours endlessly. There’s been moments where I’m one ‘sir’ away from pinning you to my desk and fucking that delicious cunt of yours until you can’t say anything but my name.” He’s pulling you against him in gentle movements, mimicking slow deep thrusts of his hips.

He runs his hands up your clothed torso, settling to rest gently around your throat, deepening the kiss. He shifts positions again, hovering over you, settled between your legs and his cock pressing against your drenched core. He licks into your mouth, hands falling to the buttons on your pajamas.

He pulls away groaning as he licks your saliva from his lips, you tighten a hand in his hair in response, “God you taste like those fucking cherries.”

You chuckle, body flushing in embarrassment as your chest is revealed to his skilled hands. He runs his fingers down the slope of your breast, you watch as he traces slow small circles around your nipple. You feel an undeniable sense of vulnerability, but you can’t help a low whine rising from your chest. He’s never touched you like this before, no one has, what if he didn’t like what he’s finding?

Almost as if he hears your concern, he moans, “God you’re so perfect for me.” Kissing along the edge of your jaw he brings his knees up slightly opening your legs just a tad wider. Leaning into your hair, his teeth graze the shell of your ear, “Can I taste you, sweetheart?”

You mumble a yes, unable to even think in complete sentences. He begins to trail kisses down the base of your throat, nipping and grazing at the sensitive flesh, drinking every last sound that comes out of your mouth. When he reaches the waistband of your pants, he hesitates, placing a few extra gentle kisses on your hips.

The reality of his movements settled into your core, he treated you with a tenderness you hadn’t seen in him beforehand, the part of you that longed for this was screaming. He sits up slightly, tapping your hips in a silent plea for you to lift them.

You comply. He slides the thin fabric over your legs, giving open mouth kisses to each inch of skin he reveals. With the last of your garnets removed he runs his warm hands along the outside of your thighs soothingly rubbing circles into them with his thumbs.

Your breath was ragged, and you fought the urge to close your thighs together in shame. His hands ran up the insides of your thighs, getting dangerously close to your aching pussy but he didn’t yet grant you the satisfaction of his touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pauses taking a deep breath, and you swear it was almost like he was tasting you with his lungs, “Use some of those names you use in private,” he sinks back down before his breath brushes over your sensitive skin, “but only if I deserve it.”

You hear a devilish smile in his voice as he slowly begins to lap at your entrance, the sensation causing your legs to twitch. Mewls and cries begin to spill out of your mouth when he starts to run his tongue in slow circles around your clit. “Dear God, Matthew, that feels so good.”

He sucks your clit into his mouth and begins flicking it harsher with his tongue. You clench around the air, hips lifting to grind onto his mouth chasing your release. He hums what sounds like a challenge, as he tightens his grip on your thighs.

“Matt- I think I’m gonna–“ he stops. Before you can protest or shove his head back into you a single finger teases your entrance.

“I think you can be more creative than that sweetheart.” The teasing edge in his voice is almost sharp, cutting through the fog in your brain.

Your thoughts fumble, scrambling for purchase, eager for his approval. “Daddy, please…” your arm covers your eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of his breath on you and not the heat of shame and embarrassment on your cheeks.

He groans in approval, slowly sinking a finger into your virgin heat. You moaned with him, shifting your hips against his hand. He smirks, sucking your clit back into his mouth after whispering, “So eager for Daddy, hm?”

You let your fingers thread through his thick auburn hair, tugging his mouth against you as you roll your pelvis against his tongue. You winced slightly as he stretched you open with a second finger, “Relax baby girl, just getting you ready for me.”

He crooks his fingers just right, building the speed slowly. Your body starts to peak, heat pooling in your stomach. Praising his skills comes naturally to you.

You've had plenty of orgasms before but this one had to be the hardest. Every muscle in your body tensed at once, it felt like your body was going to explode, and then it did. The energy that had been building inside of you came out in waves of shaking legs, curling toes, and furling fists in sheets.

You lifted your head to watch Matt’s pleased smile lift from your core, chin glistening with your slick. He comes up to rest his forehead on yours before, cupping your face and pulling you in to share your sweet taste.

Weakly, you grind your hips against him, swallowing each of his pants and moans. “Please?” you whimper, a few times in between breaths.

“Please what? Tell me what you need, sweetheart?” he sucks your lips in between his teeth, slowly pulling his cock free from his briefs.

You glance down between you, his long, thick cock teases your folds, grinding against you. “I want you inside of me please.”

He nods, sliding himself against you a few more times, coating himself in your slick. “Relax sweetheart, It might hurt for a little bit, but I’ll make you feel good I promise.”

He lets his hands settle at your hips for a moment while slowly sinking himself into you. You breathe as steadily as you can, trusting him to take care of you, and focusing on the hammering of your heart as you look at his face.

If you thought he was the most handsome man before, this was akin to being a god. His hair was tousled, sticking to his forehead with sweat, lips swollen and pink and glistening with the obscenity of your pleasure, his brows knitted together in concentration as he felt you struggle to accommodate him.

You burned. Your skin was on fire without his touch, every little pass of his hand soothed yet awakened you to feelings and rapture you were experiencing for the first time.

Part of you was afraid. You didn’t know how you would make it twenty minutes without kissing him, five minutes without touching him, or thirty seconds without hearing his raspy voice.

Your hands fall over the tops of his on your hips, and you stroke the busted knuckles as you work on relaxing your body around him. After a few moments, you shift your hips, and both of you let out soft little cries of pleasure.

He brings his lips to your forehead, placing a chaste kiss before drawing himself out and slowly guiding you back in building a slow but deep rhythm. Each thrust gradually raises in speed until he is hammering into you.

Your body is careening towards its second orgasm, still sensitive from the first, and you struggle to keep quiet. Somehow he notices, “Speak up for me sweetheart, how does daddy make you feel?”

Nonsense comes out of your mouth, mixtures of grunts and praises. He stills, clarity coming a few seconds after, your hips are lifted and placed atop a pillow. Before you can form words, he’s pounding ruthlessly into you deeper and faster than you thought possible.

“God, you’re gonna make me cum again.” he fucks the words out of you, the air practically knocked from your lungs. He smiles against your skin, before sitting up and pushing on your lower stomach with both of his hands.

“Good, cum all over me while I fill you up princess.” You have no choice, the orgasm runs over you and your vision blurs as your hips buck viciously against him.

A few moments later and he’s moaning your name as he fills your cunt. You dig your heels into his back, pulling him closer to you as he whines low under his breath.

Giggles and giddiness overcome you, and you're not sure if it's anxiety or relief or the post-sex haze you’ve heard so much about, “Can I call you Matt now?” You speak with fake authority trying to cover the concern sneaking into your thoughts.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” he flashes a bright smile that creases the corners of his eyes, and your heart swells, “ you can call me anything you want.”

“I’m going to be limping into that meeting tomorrow, and you have bruises all over you, they’re going to think we got jumped.” you snickered as you walked into the bathroom to clean the mess from your thighs.

“Or that we had some wild sex.”

If he wasn’t blind, you would swear he was saying it to see you blush. “Is this a thing? Or should I just let my heartbreak now?” you spoke at your reflection addressing the gnashing of your logical brain. There were bundles of small fresh bruises blooming on your hips, and an ache deep inside of you that caused your gait to be a little wonky, so you would be walking in as quite the pair tomorrow.

Matt walks into the room, and your eyes scan his figure in the mirror as he looms over you. “I have no intention of letting anyone else touch you,” his fingers run up your sides before cupping your breasts and rolling your nipples between them, “no one else can kiss you,” he lowers his mouth to your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin, “no one can even consider you again, I won’t allow it.”

He straightens, taking off his cross necklace and draping it over your quaint frame. It settles on your chest, the metal heavy and unfamiliar to you. “I want it back, but I’ll replace it with something more… permanent.”

Not more than a week later, you have a new necklace placed upon your neck. With a plain silver chain, with a single loop in the middle matching the scarlet red of his glasses, he locks the collar in place and forgets the key entirely.

#daredevil x female reader #matt murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #charlie cox #matt murdock fanfic #marvel daredevil #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #one bed trope

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incorrect-mha-bnha · 4 years ago

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BNHA HEADCANNONS again

Eri holds anual tea parties with everyone but banned Bakugou for “a thousand eternities” because he kept getting into bickering matches with her stuffed animals on who was the better princess.

Kaminari can, in fact, cook and bake. You can’t tell me I’m wrong because I also hc him as a huge stoner. The same with Sero. Those boys be cooking and whippin in the kitchen. Case closed.

Much like Star Lord, I believe Dabi would be one to wear headphones and carry around a cassette tape while he destroys things. People screaming and havoc being caused but it’s all muffled by his tunes. He even dances around as he works.

Mitsuki is the kind of woman to bark at men that catcall her. You can’t say I’m wrong, because I’m not. She would have no shame barking at some sleazebag that passes a rather suggestive demeaning comment her way thinking he’d get away scotch free and have a laugh over it with his sexist buddies— WELL HED BE WRONG because as soon as she hears some punk yell “Nice (insert sexist joke)!” She’d stop, turn his way slowly and start barking as shown.... “BARK BARK RUFF AWOOOO GRRRR BARK BARK BARK!” And the man would literally die on the spot. Gone. A queen. A badass. What a woman.

During that scene in the sports festival where they brought out Bakugou in chains and a muzzle like some villain rather than a teenage child. You know the one— yeah you do. Anyway. He was having an PTSD attack about the slime villain. Tell me I’m wrong. His mouth was covered and he was restrained. It was NOT very long after it either. What were they thinking? Trick question. The whole hero system is trash.

(CW: Vore) I personally think the most twisted hero turned villain scenario would be Tamaki. He eats things to gain power in his quirk.... I think you know where this is going. Imagine finding out a villain literally eating heroes and random civilians to gain their quirks? Wack

Back on my partially blind Todoroki hc. Due to his impaired vision, he tends to stand with his right side towards the opponent as to keep them in his sights and guard blind spots.

When Bakugou gets lonely, he will set off tiny explosions like fireworks that remind him of younger days when him and his friends would attend festivals and run around with sparklers.

I do like the Latin Sero hc so along those lines... you cannot tell me he wouldn’t chase anyone around the dorms with a chancla over something. It’s about as scary as an Aizawa woken up mid nap. He could chuck it a 100 yards and away and still hit you square in the head. Sero is so scary with a chancla, even Bakugou won’t attempt to fuck with him. *Starts yelling* *Sero comes out of nowhere with a sandal in his hand* “Are you yelling at Midoriya again?” *Bakugou looks up then slowly turns away and stalks off grumbling*

Izy is blasian (I don’t know if that’s the correct terminology for the mix) and will from this point on be known as Dekquan on this blog and to me. My mind is Astral in this bitch today. So many hc and thoughts. Hair care products, routines, ethnicity to learn from, SO MUCH. I also hc Mina as black, gods and her know how much of a struggle that boy will go through to take care of his hair.

Listen... I love the Bakusquad.... but they really aren’t exactly feral. Dekquansquad is immensely chaotic in terms of actions. They almost got charged with multiple offenses and Todoroki tried to square up with the head police chief. Not to mention Iida quite literally went to mu1der Stain with the help of Dekquan and Todd. After that they practically said “And what about it!?” THEN half the Dekquansquad went out to rescues Bak, and didn’t give a single fuck about the consequences. Bottom line? Dekquan knows every heroes weakness and has yet to snap completely, Iida has attempted murder under his belt, Todd has the pure teenage rebellious spite mixed with “Neutral chaotic come at me Bro!” Energy fueling him, Ochac is there for the money. Whats bakusquad got? Some Latin scotch tape, a badass breakdancer, pika pika let me charge your phone mister suave, “oh that doesn’t sound very heroic” sunshine and daisies man, and ‘I go to bed for 8’ rabies n company. Don’t even try.

Bak’s parents are fashion designers. Why does this detail matter? Take a look at his hero costume. The color pallet doesn’t clash, the asccesories make sense. (In a sense). It’s the most well put together hero costume out of Class 1A. He had to have picked up tricks and rules to follow from his parents work, you cannot tell me otherwise.

Mina would sing WAP at Uraraka’s wedding..... change my mind.

(Not a ship hc) Will I ever shut up about Kirishima, Bak and Mina being my emotional support Wonder Trio (Im going to need to think of a different damn name) even if I don’t post about it? No. Mina forms a close bond with them as the years progress. Spending more time, opening up with them, nurturing with affection. It goes both ways as well. The boys care about her immensely, becoming protective and promising to be there when she needs it. Inside jokes, training and teasing- they have it all. Their dynamic is *chefs kiss* and I promise to post about it in the future.

Denk has to have brain damage, I’m pretty damn sure. If you’re using electricity to the point of being incapacitated and numerous amount of times then there has to be some adverse effects at play.

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chimerabal · 4 years ago

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My Witness Brings Me To Existence - an Alina Gray Playlist

Best listened to with AdBlock enabled, playing from a separate tab, while you gaze deeply into some macabre artwork- desperately trying to parse out a meaning.

~CWs and tracklist under the cut~

CONTENT WARNINGS:

Violent lyrics and themes of suicide.

Explicit Language, and a bit of outdated-probably-offensive terminology.

The videos have flashing lights, nudity, and insects.

TRACKLIST:

And some notes, two of the songs I snagged off of Viierah (on youtube) who also has a fantastic Alina playlist-- Devour and Dead in this House are just-- *chef’s kiss*. I couldn’t find replacements.

also... I know its a lot of GHOST. I know. GHOST just was goin’ through it and made some absolute bangers, okay?

Simple Plan - I’m Just a Kid

Emilie Simon - Dreamland

Nicole Dollanganger - Poacher’s Pride

GHOST [ft. Macane Nana English] - Star of the Show

-sigh-

PianoDeuss - Iskiereczka

Regina Spektor - All the Rowboats

Fiona Apple - Left Alone

IMAX - Dead in this House

Will Wood - Me / Myself / I

-CRUNCH-

Sanctified - Blasting Piano

Mother Mother - All Gone

-ah ha, hahaa-

FIDLAR - Leave Me Alone

GHOST [fr. Fukase English] - BROADCAST ILLUSION

Shinedown - Devour

Panic! At the Disco - Crazy = Genius

The Living Tombstone - My Ordinary Life

The Avalanches - Frontier Psychiatrist

The Paper Chase - You’re One of Them Aren’t You?

Will Wood - Dr. Sunshine is Dead

~Let’s Party!!~

GHOST - Perfect Nothing

Joe Swensen [ft. Gumi] - Oh Ana (Mother Mother Chiptune Cover)

GHOST [ft. Utatane Piko] - Chelovek

SKRILLEX - KILL EVERYBODY

GHOST - Culpability and the Panopticon

-psssfffffZRT-

#Playlist #pmmm #magireco #Alina Gray #music #fanart #ok so its not AR T art but sure I gotta sort it #you should be thanking me for not naming it 50 shades of Alina bc I Really Wanted To

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queer-omens-in-the-archives · 4 years ago

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On the use of the “violent alter ego” trope in Jonny Sims’ book “Thirteen Storeys”

This is a rant that’s been marinating in our brain for a while, about how Thirteen Storeys is part of an unfortunate trend of “excellent singlet writer, influenced by pop culture representations of what “multiple consciousnesses in one body” looks like, writes an explicit “multiple consciousnesses” experience as a harmful and offensive stereotype, even as they – clearly on accident – write extremely accurate portrayals of plural experiences... in other, non-explicitly “multiple-consciousnesses” areas of their work”.

You won’t be lost if you haven’t read the book, but proceed with caution – major spoilers ahead for chapters 4 and 10. CW for non-detailed descriptions of violence regarding chapter 10.

A few terminology notes before we start:

By “plurality”, we mean “the experience of multiple consciousnesses existing in the same physical body”. A “plural”, or “system”, or “plural system” is one such group of consciousnesses sharing the same body. A “singlet” is someone whose consciousness is the sole consciousness in their body.

Plurality does not automatically mean Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), which is a clinical diagnosis for a specific set of symptoms, not just the mere presence of plurality. We, personally, are plural without DID.

We use "system mate” and “brainmate” as a more inclusive synonym for “alter”, which is clinical terminology that many plurals reject.

For those of you who haven’t read Thirteen Storeys: it’s a horror anthology about a haunted building, where each chapter has a different narrator, and the pieces assemble slowly and subtly until the last chapter brings all the plot threads together.

---

Chapter 4 is told from the point of view of a little girl, Anna, who has an imaginary friend named Penny. That immediately pinged our plural radar, because “weirdly consistent imaginary friends” was how we first conceptualised our plurality to ourselves. We thought, “if there’s going to be an evil alter ego in this novel, pretty sure it’s going to be Penny in this chapter!”

Witnessing Anna and Penny’s friendship only convinced us more. The way Anna’s parents can’t see Penny and Anna knows they can’t, but she still treats Penny as real, no matter what they say; the way Anna and Penny interact and talk to each other; what they do together and how they do it; how Penny is sometimes there, sometimes not – all of this resonated with us. It’s how we, as several people sharing a body, experience the world.

We later learned that Penny is not Anna’s brain-mate, but a ghost haunting her. No evil alter ego trope here! We were a little disappointed because this would have been a legitimately delightful depiction of plurality, compared to how the “evil alter ego” trope is usually wielded.

---

Alas, the trope shows up in a much more unpleasant form in a later chapter. This time we did not see it coming, because – as usual with this trope – it did not in any way look like our actual lived experience, which the first of two problems we have.

Chapter 10 tells the story of Jason, who works as a concierge and has a co-worker named Max. To the reader, it looks at first like they exist in different bodies. Among other things, Jason remembers Max teaching him how to do his job; we see Jason talking to Max in front of other people; we see Max talking to other people in Jason’s presence; and Jason sometimes watches Max through surveillance screens.

Now, knowing that the chapter was told from Jason’s point of view and that Jonny Sims often uses unreliable narrators, perhaps not noticing earlier was on us for not being observant enough. There are enough little clues that you can see the reveal coming, but these clues did not ping our plural radar the way Anna and Penny did, because the clues that are relevant to the “violent alter ego” trope are so far removed from our actual experience of sharing a brain and body.

For instance, there’s no way, internally, that we could mistake “someone inside our brain is doing something outside and I’m watching them do the thing” for “I am literally seeing my brain-mate do something on a surveillance screen in a different room”. Even those of our plural acquaintances with stronger dissociative barriers than ours usually “only” experience amnesia when their brain-mates control the body. Full hallucinations of one’s brain-mates, while possible, are not in any way a common plural experience.

---

Coming back to the story: Max is very verbally aggressive, which Jason tolerates because he’s not part of the groups Max usually criticises; and one of Max’s defining traits is a baton he always keeps on hand. Jason considers Max a friend, until Max becomes physically violent and beats up a sixteen-year-old, before turning on Jason and beating him up as well.

After that happens, the ~twist reveal~ is that Max and Jason were in the same body all along, and Jason was “actually” the one doing all the violence.

And here lies our other problem.

We understand that Jonny Sims uses the “violent alter ego” trope to make several important points about not enabling other people’s violence; about complicity through silence; about radicalisation and the perpetuation of white supremacy; all topics that absolutely deserve to be broached.

Years ago, we were friends with a guy very like Max (that friendship has since ended, thankfully in less bloody circumstances), and we rationalised it to ourselves in eerily similar ways to how Jason rationalises Max’s behaviour; so we could tell where that was going to go, and we definitely enjoyed the commentary there. There is valuable input there.

But plurality is not a purely symbolic experience for singlet authors to wield. For many of us it’s our lived reality, and there is nothing symbolic about it. There would have been ways to make the exact same points without using a trope that is actively detrimental to plural folks, especially plurals with dissociative disorders.

Besides, while some plural systems do have violent members, these members are usually violent to others in the system, not to people outside of it; and, like so many other demographics often demonised in popular culture, plural systems are vastly more likely to be the victims of violence than the perpetrators. We’ve had enough Splits, and it’s time to start writing better depictions of plurality.

---

It especially hurt to see from Jonny Sims, a writer who we can generally trust not to use neurodivergence and mental illness as a source of horror.

It shows, in that his portrayal of the “violent alter ego” trope is still the least bad we’ve seen. He never makes an explicit link to any form of plurality (when others have no qualms about namedropping DID for shock value) and doesn’t use the trope to make “crazy people” a source of horror (Max’s existence and evil-ness is clearly tied to the building’s weirdness, not at all inherent to Jason’s psyche). We can appreciate that.

On its own, it does not mean this is a good use of the “violent alter ego” trope.

We would be a lot more comfortable with it if Jonny had ever written other plural characters, who just happen to be plural. But he has never – to our knowledge – written any plural character whose existence doesn’t rely on that trope; never once a single character whose plurality is depicted as a neutral or positive thing.

Unfortunately, Anna and Penny were a much more accurate and compassionate portrayal of what our lived experience of sharing a body looks like, than Jason and Max who were explicitly shown to have that experience.

---

As a conclusion of sorts:

If you’re going to write something about “multiple consciousnesses in one body”, no matter the in-world justification, be aware that plural folks in your readership will likely identify with it, and will definitely notice if you only ever write “multiple consciousnesses sharing a body” as a horrible thing.

Do your research, consult with plural folks – many of us are willing to talk about our experiences, if you’re coming with good faith questions.

Here are our three favourite resources on plurality, if you don’t know where to start (each of them links to more resources):

https://morethanone.info : Plurality 101.

The Layman’s Guide to Multiplicity : an older resource, last updated 2004. Some of the terminology is outdated compared to current usage, but the contents are still relevant today. We especially enjoy the way it debunks most common myths about plurality.

The Plurality Playbook : meant “to help employees and managers understand dissociative disorders, as well as plurality as a whole”. Most of the guide is about plurality in a workplace setting, then the FAQ section at the end touches on more general topics.

Thanks for reading all the way through!

#thirteen storeys #jonny sims #jonathan sims #plurality #evil alter ego #saltposting #That's been marinating in our brain for a WHILE and we finally have a complete articulation of how and why this was bothering us #To be clear we really enjoyed Thirteen Storeys but chapter 10 was like #When you're eating a really good cake and finding that one clump of shitty flour that didn't get properly separated #It's not enough to spoil your entire enjoyment of the cake but still suboptimal cake eating experience #Especially when the writer usually is better at disintegrating the clumps before the cake gets baked #Yes we're using cake metaphors in the tags. What of it?#long post #Also we've seen Fight Club and similar we know evil alter ego trope we're just so DONE with it as a whole #Like get better tropes #Also with the way fandom can be online. This isn't a cancelling post I can't believe we have to write this #Also 2 if you're here to debate the validity of plurality: kindly get lost #and stop telling people they're not allowed to exist unless you personally understand how they describe their own life experiences #We don't have time for exclusionary bullshit here thank you very much.#Also 3 we know this is a super common trope in horror and not like #surprising for a horror author to play with #but. There are so many better tropes #Wait this was already what we said in the first 'Also'. ouch #Like it's such a prevalent trope please at least do your part to also normalise plurality because that's just how some folks are wired

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brown-spider · 1 year ago

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You’re doing amazing sweetie 🫶🏽

#Hobie probably tried to argue that he should be allowed to say it sgsjssh #more modern spiders were like we Cannot let him say that he WILL get his ass jumped at Spidey HQ #spiderverse #spiderverse 2 #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv art #atsv fanart #spiderman noir #spider noir #peter benjamin parker #atsv noir #art #my art #cw outdated terminology #cw offensive terminology #nonblacks can interact #my comics

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showf4lls · 4 years ago

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ok so i was stalking ur blog (it’s okay, we’re mutuals 😌 — right? pFFT) anyways i saw the idea of a hockey au and i am very curious to see where denki & kiri would be like in that au 👁👁

YES THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT THIS OH MY GOD

cw: i'm about to infodump SO hard so be warned, I'm also about to use a whole lot of hockey terminology bc I'm a hockey head born and raise okok (like fr i was almost born at a hockey rink O.o)

okay so let me tell you I have tHOUGHTS about this okay??

out of all the people i've talked to about this, i've found that most people headcanon kiri to be a goalie but i (strongly) disagree with that. like, kiri playing the goalie position makes sense because of his size (i guess? i mean, i think i make him out to be a lot bigger in my head than he actually is, but that's irrelevant), but i don't think his personality really matches up with that. i see him more as a defense player, definitely. while i think he could probably make amazing plays on offense, i think he would care way more about taking care of his teammates (esp the goalie bc we all know that the goalie is the baby of the team ;-;). also I'm p sure i have more thoughts about kiri playing ice hockey but they've all just yeeted themselves from my head smh

on the other hand,,, denki. i feel like he'd be hard to place but I'm super between him being a water boy (lmao bc he wouldn't wanna get his ass beat on the ice) or a winger. as a water boy, i think denki would be super excitable and eager and always cheer on and pump up his team. but i think having him as a winger would be way more fun. i was thinking about him as a centre but i think he'd get a little too nervous to really trust himself in a faceoff. so yeah i definitely think he'd play winger. he's kind of on the smaller side (at least in my head lmao) so he'd likely be less noticeable than the bigger guys jamming down the middle of the ice, and i have a feeling that he'd definitely be faster too. i also think he might unintentionally get boarded a lot since he's smaller than the other guys, but i think he'd still love the game.

#bnha hockey au #hockey au #hockey player!kirishima #hockey player!denki #drabble? could you consider this a drabble?#laz.drabbles #laz.infodumps

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i-love-my-trans-body · 4 years ago

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Idk if youve gotten this before but you really shouldnt use aspec to describe asexual! that has been a term for autism spectrum for a long time and it was kinda just taken, no hate just wanted to say!!

sorry, but this...isn’t accurate at all? as someone who is autistic and aspec, this is just. false information.

first of all, aspec refers to the ace AND aro spectrums.

arospec = spectrum of aro identities

acespec = spectrum of ace identites

aspec = spectrum of ace and aro identites (hence the usage of simply, “A”)

here’s a twitter thread documenting use of aspec in aro/ace communities, as well as lack of use in autistic spaces

CW: outdated/offensive terminology, refering to autism as “infantile” - here’s a proffesional paper documenting the terms used to offically describe autism over time (they cite the use of autism spectrum disorder/ASD, but never mention “aspec.”)

the idea of apsec being used to mean autism - and that aspec people shouldn’t use it - was an exclusionist tactic created sometime during 2016-2018. as some comments in the thread mention, this rhetoric was used to further divide and deem the apsec community as “problematic.” and obviously, to strip us of our terminology!

here’s a google doc included at the end of the twitter thread, going more in-depth

autism spectrum, ASD, and “on the spectrum,” refer to autism, aspec does not (or at the very least, did not originally, and does not “belong” to autistics)

again, i’m autistic, aro, and ace, please don’t spread misinformation about our communities.

#ask #aphobia #exclusionist mention #misinformation #delet later (maybe)#in conclusion: no ?

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adhdtoomanycommas · 5 years ago

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Emotional Abuse and ADHD

Ok, first real post on the ADHD sideblog, so lets dive straight into the heavy stuff. TW/CW for emotional abuse, gaslighting, and probably some other things too (please feel free to let me know if I should add additional tags).

I had trouble sleeping last night because my brain kept insisting I needed to start this blog, like immediately, despite it being clearly not an opportune time to do anything of the sort. Or at least, it insisted, I needed to jot down all the essay/ramble/whatever topic ideas I had complicated thoughts on so I could start the blog today. I managed to resist doing both of those things, and get to sleep eventually, but here I am. The first topic that brought this on was wanting to talk about my experience in an emotionally abusive relationship and how many aspects of that were exacerbated by various symptoms of my (then undiagnosed) ADHD.

I’m going to assume a certain amount of baseline familiarity with some terminology and whatnot here, if you’re confused by any of the ADHD terms I use here I recommend heading over to theadhdmanual.com and reading their very helpful “three pillars” articles which do a great job of explaining Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) and emotional hyperarrousal (also elsewhere called emotional disregulation, I’ll be using both terms interchangably but won’t be abbreviating the latter for hopefully obvious reasons). On the emotional abuse terminology front, there’s a couple great articles on gaslighting on everydayfeminism.com that I recommend seeking out.

It is possible I am slightly stalling here by providing all this context.

At this point damn near ten years ago, for most of my senior year of college and for a good few months afterwards (I don’t remember how long exactly since adhd brains suck at timelines and I don’t feel like logicing it out right now) I was in what I later realized (with help from the aforementioned everydayfeminism articles) was an emotionally abusive relationship. My then-boyfriend, who I will call Al, was insecure and jealous. I had more sexual experience than him going into the relationship, and he used that as an excuse to guilt-trip, manipulate, and ultimately control me. I realize now, that the primary weapon he would use against me was my own RSD.

Whenever I did something that upset Al, (typical infractions included things like accidentally mentioning one of my exes, correcting him about something, “flirting with” --read: talking to-- any of my friends who were more my friend than his, or singing along to music) he would generally make his displeasure known by ignoring me--withdrawing all physical affection, coupled with the silent treatment. If you’re familiar with RSD, you can already guess how effective this was. If you’re not, then for comparison you should know that ADHD people can spiral very quickly into completely irrational “they hate me, don’t they?” thought spiral from something as small as a delayed text. Al would almost never tell me what I did to upset him, and in my guilt-spiral I would usually tearfully beg forgiveness for everything I could think of until I guessed correctly and/or he arbitrarily decided I’d had enough.

As an aside, he would often do this silent treatment toward me in public while being perfectly cheerful and whatnot with our other friends, often making it seem to others like he was just joking or messing with me. On one memorable occasion he refused to say anything to me but the word “spoon” with varying inflections for the better part of a day--a pretty skillful gaslight because to everyone else around this just seemed like goofy ol’ Al being his silly self, but from context I knew this was part of a punishment, and I couldn’t express any kind of being upset about this, even annoyance, without looking like I was overreacting to a dumb joke.

Ultimately much of what he actually did (or didn’t do) in public didn’t look like much to an outside observer, but he knew my (RSD fueled) insecurity would make it hurt, especially when I wouldn’t be able to address anything with him until we were in private later.

Also (and I intend to write a whole different post about this later) my particular brand of emotional disregulation takes the form of crying extremely easily. I cry when I’m sad, when I’m tired, when I’m happy, when I see something too cute to handle, and (most importantly, in this instance) when I’m angry. Because of this, every time I tried to address some relationship concern I had with him, whenever I tried to call out some of his shitty behavior or bring attention to my own emotional needs, it was extremely difficult--nigh impossible--to do so without crying. This gave him a massive amount of gaslighting ammunition--it made it very easy for him to say I was overreacting, overemotional, irrational, trying to manipulate him, et cetera. And it was hard to defend myself against that, even to myself. After all, lacking the ADHD diagnosis and resources about emotional disregulation that I have now, I had pretty much internalized the idea that I’m just “oversensitive” when it comes to crying, so I rationalized that I was also being oversensitive about whatever concern I started with in the first place. So every time a conversation started with me telling him he hurt me some way, it inevitably ended with me apologizing to him instead of the other way around.

Just to add to the already nasty cycle, Al also considered crying over something he didn’t deem worth crying over a punishable offense, so it often triggered the previously discussed silent treatment.

A third aspect of ADHD I haven’t discussed yet also played a major part in how I was abused--Memory. I don’t have a good resource to link on this one (I’m pretty sure there are some good howtoadhd videos on it on youtube but I’m not going to go dig for them right now), but ADHD people, on the whole, have terrible memories, especially short term/working memory. Mine in particular might be even worse for some kinds of things for unrelated reasons (aphantasia, which I might write about later but this is already really long and it’s not actually that relevant here).

Al was perpetually convinced that I was cheating on him, and any time we were apart he would quiz me afterwards on where exactly I was, what I did, for how long, and in what order. Any inconsistency in my account, or any “I don’t remember”s would mean he would accuse me of lying about the whole thing. I am pretty sure I have in common with most ADHD people that between time blindness and bad working memories, giving a consistent and accurate account like that is basically impossible, so this rarely went well for me. Just to further complicate matters, being accused of lying when I’m not is practically guaranteed to make me cry, and trying to keep from crying (to avoid angering him further) means I swallow a lot, and somewhere Al had heard that excessive swallowing is a sign that someone is lying, so again these various ADHD symptoms would combine to just make everything worse.

I eventually got out of that relationship, and not too long afterwards got together with my now-husband, who is wonderful, so that’s a happy ending. Getting diagnosed with ADHD a few months ago, learning about these symptoms, and figuring all this out has made this make much more sense to me than before. But in addition to my ADHD symptoms making me more vulnerable to these emotional abuse tactics, I’m pretty sure the leftover baggage from the emotional abuse may have made those very same ADHD symptoms worse, and while my new meds seem to help immensely with the executive disfunction aspects of ADHD, they don’t do a damn thing about RSD spirals or emotional disregulation. Healing and processing it all is slow going, but it has gotten a lot better over the years, and knowing now that even another aspect of this isn’t my fault helps too. And taking my meds today did help me motivate myself to write all this out, so maybe that will help as well.

I’m not sure what the takeaway is here, other than I strongly suggest everyone learn what gaslighting and emotional abuse in general looks like, but especially if you have ADHD or suspect you might have ADHD because we might be more vulnerable to being on the receiving end of it than most people. If anything I talked about here sounds a little too familiar, I strongly recommend reading up on gaslighting, and consider getting the heck away from anyone who sounds too much like Al. Maybe us ADHDers will inevitably get into some nasty thought-spirals or bad emotional places sometimes, maybe we’ll cry over nothing or worry too much that something we said will make everyone hate us, but if anyone tries to use any of that against you, uses it to get you to do what they want, or intentionally makes you feel worse, they’re not someone worth being around, and I promise you deserve better.

Not sure if anyone will read this, much less any fellow ADHDers because yeah, it’s a big ol’ wall of text and I get that can be hard, but if you made it this far, thanks for listening and I’ll try to go not quite so heavy with my next post, (assuming, of course, that I have a next post and this blog doesn’t become yet another started-and-abandoned project).

That’s all for now.

#adhd #actuallyadhd #rsd problems #emotional abuse #tw emotional abuse #tw emotional manipulation #gaslighting #tw gaslighting

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