#he spooks everyone out

[midnightenigma]

The hiring process to become a Justice League employee was extremely rigorous. Not only did you have to have the skills of your profession down to perfection, you also had to have a certain set of personal skills to go with it. This threshold only increased exponentially when referring to those who worked on the Watchtower itself.

Few were granted such access. After all, this was the base of the world’s greatest defense. There were secrets on board that most could never be privy to.

As such, when regarding the civilians who had access to the Watchtower, whether full or partial, Batman ensured that he was at least part of the later stages of the interview process, no matter how busy he was. 

That being said, he had noticed a pattern amongst those who had qualified to this stage in things: with all the requirements involved, interviewees tended to be on the eccentric side of things. Almost rivaling the League members themselves at some points.

Daniel James Nightingale was an interesting character. 

In his interview he had seemed normal, too much so, in Batman’s opinion. A young man who held himself tall and confident at first glance, but at the same time made micro adjustments to posture to make himself seem smaller. It was so subtle that if he weren’t Batman, he wouldn’t have noticed. It didn’t even seem to be a conscious thing on Daniel’s part, but an action born of repetition and habit. As if he required as little attention as possible in his day to day life.

Perhaps a past victim of bullying?

Still, his general demeanor was good. He was lively and passionate about his work, competent in his tasks, and his responses on the questions pertaining to the more sensitive sides of the work carried a professionalism that rivaled some special agents. His background check turned in clean and physically he not only passed all exams, he aced them.

In essence, Daniel James Nightingale was a perfect fit for the role of live-in mechanical engineer.

Only then did the oddities begin to appear.

When you spend enough time with someone, you begin to pick up on things about them. This is especially true for someone like Batman, who’s had to rely on his brain and instinct to fight alongside and against beings of near incomprehensible power. 

And yet, there was something about Daniel that left him stumped.

He was quiet most of the time, preferring to keep to his own work than chat away with the heroes and coworkers. Batman supposed he preferred this over idolization, but he was almost too quiet. Sometimes you’d be in the same room as him and you wouldn’t even know he was there even after you left. 

It was this that had initially sparked his interest. It was one thing to make your presence smaller unconsciously, but to be able to sneak up superheroes spelled of a completely different skillset.

That day, Batman was on monitor duty with Superman for the night. One of the more companionable partners, he enjoyed their conversations together, even when tasked with the mundanity of sitting in front of a screen for hours on end. Not that he would ever complain, of all the people here, he knew how important it was to have this position.

Though he does have to admit that a couple Leaguers are not the most…ideal…to be paired with.

Which is why he was relieved to see Superman walk through the door. He knew he was scheduled but things happen and people trade shifts. They were quietly chatting about their children when Superman jerked to the side and spun around. Under one of the benches was Daniel James Nightingale working on the wiring.

Was he there the entire time? And Superman only noticed now? How much of their conversation did he hear? Batman didn’t think they talked about anything confidential at least.

“Son?” He started, causing the mechanic to look at them from his shaded spot. The lighting on the various monitors in the room reflected oddly in his eyes, almost making them luminescent. “Are you okay there?”

Daniel tilted his head, “Yeah? What do you mean?”

“It’s just…your heartbeat…” Superman trailed off, eyebrows furrowing with confusion.

Daniel’s face lit up in recognition, “Oh! You mean my heart condition. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“Had a small accident when I was a kid. Got a bit of a shock and things struggle to pick up on it nowadays. Nothing to worry about.” He waved Superman’s concern off and closed the panel above him before crawling out of his space and picking up his toolbox, “Welp! That’s all finished. Have a goodnight, you two.” Daniel brushed his pants off and left the two to their thoughts.

It wasn’t unheard of for things like that to happen. Barry’s heart ran too fast a lot of the time to be picked up on most technology, but Superman?

Batman needed to investigate.

He never got the chance.

_____

It was the third month in Danny’s tenure as live-in mechanic that the alarms had sounded. Something was coming. Something big. All core Leaguers were called up to the Watchtower to plan out the upcoming battle.

Flash did not wait. He never did, but he especially did not now. The moment he had teleported in, he took off to the meeting room as fast as his legs, and the structural integrity of the ship, would allow him.

He was in the hallway next to the observatory when he spotted it. At the end of the hallway, standing eerily still, even in flashtime was a figure. Backlit by lights and eyes glowing a toxic green in his speed, it was nothing more than a shadow with lights for eyes. Elongated limbs and hands that ended in claws, an instinctual ping of fear flashed through the superhero as he gazed upon the cryptid.

They were already inside.

Flash darted forward. Ready to take on the fight. Prepared to avenge his undoubtedly fallen comrades if they’ve already gotten to this point.

It was ten steps to cross the corridor. 

Less than a millisecond in real time. 

8 steps now.

The light behind it shut off.

6.

It flickered on again.

5.

Flash diverted courses.

That.

That wasn’t a cryptid. That was their fucking mechanic, Danny. What the hell is he doing out like this?

It didn’t matter. There was an emergency and Flash had a meeting to get to. He picked his speed back up just as he was passing Danny, eyeing him wearily as he passed.

Danny’s eyes followed him back.

What?

_____

The Justice League was in chaos.

Nobody knew who the intruder was or what they wanted. The most they settled on was ‘war’ given the large army of invaders heading their way, but it wasn't any of their usual perpetrators and any methods of identifying them have failed so far. 

Which meant that they were going in blind.

Superman glanced at Batman. He was concerned over his friend. He knew Batman took pride in his preparations but they didn’t have that here. And they didn’t have the luxury of time to gather enough information to make one.

This battle truly will be the culmination of all the skills they’ve gathered thus far.

Batman wasn’t the only one he was concerned over though. He wasn’t sure where, but the mechanic was somewhere in the room, his very faint and very sporadic heartbeat said as such. What was he doing here?

“So, we don’t have any information? No motive, no origin, nothing?” Green Arrow, another information based hero, expressed, reiterating their collective frustrations for a third time. 

“I do.” A voice peeped up from between him and Batman, causing the archer to leap onto the table in a defensive position. Even Batman’s heart sped up a tad, though his outward appearance remained as deadpan as always.

There he is. Danny Nightingale had made an appearance. All at once cacophony started throughout the meeting room. Maybe it was a mistake calling everyone here at once. Wonder Woman raised her hand. A wordless call for silence. It worked. “What do you mean? What can you tell us?” “That you’ll lose if you go out there. Those beings are not creatures that you are currently capable of fighting.”

Noises of protest were heard amongst the group, but they were cut off with a single glare from Batman, “Explain.”

Danny did not, “That does not mean all is lost, though.” He pulled out a flash drive and slid it across the table until it stopped in the center, “Plug that into your mainframe. I’ve made some adjustments to your systems for it to be compatible. All it needs is direction. Once you give it that,” he nodded to the drive that currently held everyone’s attention captive, as if it were a bomb that could go off at any moment, “ you’ll have yourselves some proper defense and the weapons on the Watchtower should be set. If you trust me, that is.” 

“And if we don’t?”

“Then don’t. I’m just giving you the option to back me up,” the young man shrugged, looking much more nonchalant than the situation called for, “It’s more of a personal fight, anyways.”

Superman wasn’t quite sure how to describe the next few moments. One second, the League’s reliable yet mysterious mechanic was standing in front of them, the next a bright light was blinding them all. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone leaned into battle stances.

What stood in the place of the young man could no longer be considered human.

No.

It was a god.

Star bright hair that flowed in without gravity, eyes that held entire galaxies, long elf-like ears, and claws as sharp as a needle. A crown of frost floated above his head and a cape woven of constellations waved gently around his feet. The power the being exudes was so strong that everyone knew immediately that they stood no chance. No one dared move. 

No one dared breathe. 

The god gave them a nod and a quick two finger(clawed?) salute before he disappeared.

As the cacophony of his fellow co-workers rose up around him once again, Superman realized what had thrown him off so hard.

He didn’t have a heartbeat.

Unintentionally Mysterious Danny

No one in the Justice League/Wayne Industries seems to know much about their colleague Danny Fenton. Every time he opens his mouth, he tends to leave everyone in the vicinity with more questions than answers. That is, until they were put on lockdown.

[greenglowinspooks]

Imagine, if you will, Respawn ending up in the least important town in all of Illinois hoping to lay low for a while whilst planning to completely wreck Damian’s shit only to get shot at by some rogue government agents, kill said government agents, accidentally out some meta kid to the entire town while he tries to keep him from killing more government agents (who have not stopped shooting at either of them), save him by coincidence while making his escape, and having to flee the state with said weird metahuman kid (he’s like the third person to ever treat him like an actual human so he decided not to leave him behind) on the world’s third-worst roadtrip in order to rock up to Batman’s actual house to convince him to clear their names and get rid of the anti-ecto acts, with his only point of bartering being him pinky promising that he’ll definitely stop trying to kill Damian this time

And all of this happens over the course of like three days

[sesamenom]

maglor's first time getting to go to a concert / his favorite singer attending maglor's first big concert

[duskythesomething]

Cheesecake Banana Pancake 🧀🍰🍌🐍

He's up to 273 grams! For those who don't know, Cheese and I have struggled with taking on appropriately sized meals up until recently, and he's been a lil underweight for his size and age. This will be our second week on correctly sized rats, so fingers crossed!

I finally caught him in the classic Ball Pancake pose after we did our nightly chores together 💛

[unexpectedbrickattack]

.

[deva-arts]

You got isekai'd into SYSTEMA. What now.

Be amazed.

Remember I spawned into the "everything sucks" world.

Break down and cry.

Consider death as an escape.

Summon the global chaos by leaking insider secrets that could make about 200 new conspiracy theories.

Hope that Sera's conspirator ass tries to find me before one of the hits get me first.

Ending 1: I get sniped.

Ending 2: I get jumped.

Ending 3: I get kidnapped.

Ending 4:

Ending 200: It worked! Sera insults me. I cry from both the height she's holding me at and the insult respectively. She tells me to quit sobbing so I weep in incognito mode.

Make it into the Manumission. Wipe my face. Contemplate death again.

Get interrogated.

Get welcomed in! (I am still under close observation)

Quietly fangirl about my characters in 4k then feel incredibly weird about how much I know.

Get interrogated again.

I know that Nathaniel knows that I know but he doesn't know how much I know until I make it known that I know that he knows.

Consider death as- oh. He heard that too.

Literally everyone freaks me out for different reasons. I hang out with Sonia. She calls me fat. I still like you Sonia.

Live in the manumission under witness/informant protection and try not to die.

[blujayonthewing]

melliwyk lived in her house for over a decade, and it was The Haunted House before she moved in and lived there as a largely reclusive wizard, making it The Haunted House (they say a witch lives there!), and one of the most fun routine-breakers in her life was when kids and teens would brave the trek through the woods to dare each other to knock on her door, which she always rewarded with Haunted House theatrics

[sysig]

I like him a normal amount (lying) (Patreon)

[sarroora]

OUUUUGH I MEANT TO SAY THINGS TO YOU EARLIER I FORGOR

Ok but that researching thing is SO REAL like i swear I'm not plotting to poison cats 😭

Also I'll chuck some headcanons at you because it's been a minute since I've done so

T.C. sleeps like he's dead and this varies only between In-The-Coffin and Just-Been-Murdered

Benny's jacket is probably handmade from his Ma from when he was younger and he just never outgrew it because he's so smol

If you were to brush Chooch you could make a whole nother Chooch out of all the fur you get, and Chooch would still be just as fluffy as he was before. (Infinite fur glitch?)

Spook ekeke's in his sleep. You can just hear him chattering in some corner of the alley or when he's napping on his beanbag. The gang tells him this all the time and he never believes them.

Fancy's tubby figure allows him to perfectly imitate loaves of bread on accident. At one point he was mistaken for a nice round loaf of Pumpernickel when he was napping in front of a bakery. Scared the hell out of a little old lady and himself when she tried to pick him up.

Most of Brain's habits are very catlike as he was the latest out of all of them to be integrated into a humanized society so he still makes short sprints on all fours before walking on twos and will always flee on all fours if he's scared. He also does that chicken legg thing to clean his legs SHAMELESSLY because nobody explained to him why that might be considered inappropriate to humans.

SEPARATION THINGY IGNORE THIS 💃🧚💃

Bonus Brain HC that also doubles as a teaser for my backstory fic of him; sometimes he just says the name of an emotion he's feeling because the lil ol library lady who taught him how to speak told him to 'say his emotions' to help process them and he took that literally. He slowly weaned off that habit when he got older but old habits die hard so now you'll very rarely hear him whispering 'happy!' to himself or saying 'confused?' to somebody. However he never stopped yelping 'afraid!' when frightened and running away.

So yeah there we go *breakdances*

[todayisafridaynight]

Where does Arakawa even meet women for real... the only woman we see him interact with in the present runs away screaming... it's so funny... kind of like your post a couple days ago about struggling to view Arakawa as Intimidating, I was thinking It's Kinda Hard To Do when the person he's the most violent towards on-screen is himself when he busted his hand on a locker door and cut off his finger... even with the knowledge he caused the collapse of the Hikawa Family, he only went after the officers, not the grunts who actually killed Akane and stalled him... and he just fucking turned around and left when it came to confronting Hoshino... they won't let my man be a sicko on-screen...

to defend present-day arakawa I Too would probably bolt if i saw a dude out on the town with his golden-retriever-esque son kick the tits off some thugs Like Thank You Gentlemen. Do Not Come Near Me Happy New Year

AND YEAH RIGHT. rgg doing their absolute best to remind us all arakawa shouldnt have ended up a yakuza but girls He Is One LET ME. SEE HIM GO A LIL CRAZY A LIL STUPID. ON SOMEONE THATS NOT HIMSELF--

[worstloki]

wherein magecraft is looked at weirdly not because of non-warrior reasons but because of it’s-too-warriory reasons. You can kill a giant monster with an incomprehensible string of words, and all the non-mages know they don’t have a way to fight that.

[thatoneluckybee]

My girls and their horrible collective husband/son-in-law/child TRY TO.

Mfs who've never owned chickens: "Can you believe chickens are dinosaurs? lol what a downgrade."

Chickens:

[konakoro]

Went to a Cthulu-themed scare house with my sis and her bf and I got targeted and jumped so much, every time I looked back at my sister, she was laughing her ass off

Soooo happy she was entertained

[dinodogs]

going feral yall aren't ready for the whiterose zombie au.

[leona-hawthorne]

FICMAS #4— SLOW DOWN! / mattheo riddle

december 15th

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: mattheo’s got a little crush on you, but you keep running away every time he tries talking to you!

warnings: smut, unprotected piv, fingering, creampie, spanking, mentions of blood

words: 3.9k

a/n: i’m very very sorry for pushing this back so much—i’ve been really busy, plus i just procrastinated this one a lot. next one will be posted tomorrow so i can get back on schedule. anyways, enjoy!

navigation ficmas masterlist

The corridor was unnervingly quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of parchment or the faint scrape of shoes against stone. You hugged your books tightly to your chest, trying to make yourself invisible as you hurried toward the sanctuary of the library. The cold December air seeping through the ancient castle walls bit at your skin, but it wasn’t nearly as alarming as the warmth you suddenly felt—someone approaching from behind.

“Hi.”

His voice slid into your awareness before you even heard the sound of his footsteps, sending your heart skittering like a startled bird. Turning your head slightly, you caught sight of him—dark curls falling into his eyes, his signature Slytherin tie loosened at his throat, and that grin. The grin that made your chest feel too tight and your thoughts scatter like spilled ink.

Your first instinct, as always, was to flee.

Before he could say more, you ducked your head and pivoted on your heel, muttering something about being late to the library. 

“Oh, no, you don’t.” His hand was warm and firm around your wrist, stopping you mid-flight. He turned you gently to face him, his dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your cheeks burn. “Would you please stop running away from me? It’s worrying me, you know. The way you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time I’m around.”

You didn’t dare meet his eyes. Not yet. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the traitorous flush that gave away just how much he affected you. “I’m not running,” you mumbled, though the evidence was damning.

“Oh, come on.” He laughed, soft and incredulous. “You bolt every time I so much as look at you. Do you have any idea how hard it is to catch up with you? You’re like—like a mouse slipping through cracks.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out at first. He tilted his head, the faintest frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t bite, you know. Not unless you ask.” 

His teasing tone made your stomach flip. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, dropping your gaze to the floor.

“Don’t be,” he said softly, his grip on your wrist loosening but not letting go entirely. “I just—look, you know I’m not going to hurt you, right?”

“I-I know,” you stammered, and it was true. He wasn’t threatening to you, not even close. But that didn’t make the rapid thudding of your heart any less overwhelming. 

His brow furrowed slightly. “Then what is it?” His voice dropped, quieter now, as if he was trying not to spook you. “Am I too much? Too… loud? Intense? I can tone it down if that’s what you need.”

The earnestness in his voice nearly unraveled you. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault��that it was you, and your inability to handle the way he seemed to draw everyone’s attention with effortless charm. The way he smiled like he knew every secret in the world. The way his presence made you feel like you were standing too close to the sun.

“I—” You bit your lip, scrambling for an excuse, any excuse, but your brain seemed to be short-circuiting under his gaze. “I’m just...not used to people like you.”

“People like me?” His eyebrows lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a half-smile. “What does that mean?”

“You know.” You waved your free hand vaguely, avoiding his eyes again. “Confident. Charming.”

“Ah.” He let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and rich, wrapping around you like a blanket. “So, what? You’re allergic to confidence?”

“No! I just—” You huffed, flustered, and Mattheo’s grin widened.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” he said, and your stomach flipped violently.

“I am not,” you mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks.

“You are,” he insisted, his tone teasing but gentle. “And I’m not saying that to make you run away again, by the way. I’d really prefer it if you didn’t.”

You glanced up at him then, your heart doing somersaults at the soft, hopeful look in his eyes. And for a moment, you thought maybe you could do this—stay, talk to him, let yourself believe that someone like Mattheo Riddle could actually like someone like you.

But instead, you mumbled something incoherent and, in a sudden burst of courage—or cowardice—twisted out of his grasp and darted down the hallway.

“Wait—! Oh, come on! Slow down!” His exasperated laugh echoed behind you, followed by his voice, playful but resigned. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

Oh, but you weren’t getting away that easily.  

Because by some twist of fate—or Mattheo’s uncanny ability to be everywhere you didn’t want him to be—you found yourself crossing paths with him again that very afternoon. And this time, there was no escaping.  

The hospital wing was quiet, the kind of quiet that wrapped itself around you like a blanket, broken only by the soft clink of glass vials as you worked. You were perched at Madame Pomfrey’s desk, carefully restocking rows of remedies, when the heavy wooden door creaked open.  

You didn’t look up at first, assuming it was Madame Pomfrey returning from her rounds. But then you heard the familiar drawl.  

“Madame Pomfrey, I—oh.”  

Your hand froze mid-reach for a jar of bruise balm. Your stomach plummeted. You knew that voice.  

You froze, your hand stilling mid-reach for a jar of essence of murtlap. Slowly, as though moving too quickly might summon some greater disaster, you turned your head toward the door.

There he was.

Mattheo Riddle, leaning casually against the doorframe, one arm tucked against his side, the other pressed lightly to his jaw where a streak of blood stood out against his pale skin. His shirt was untucked, his tie gone, and his dark curls were just messy enough to make him look infuriatingly perfect.  

Your heart started to pound, the air in your lungs thinning to a whisper. “You,” you said before you could stop yourself, the word barely louder than a squeak.  

Mattheo grinned, even as he winced slightly, straightening from the doorframe. “Me,” he echoed.

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the desk as if it might keep you grounded. “What... what happened?”  

“I fell,” he said simply, though the smirk on his lips made it impossible to believe him.

“You fell,” you repeated flatly, crossing your arms.

He nodded solemnly, though there was nothing solemn about the way his eyes flicked over you, taking in the rolled-up sleeves of your uniform and the faint smudge of ink on your wrist from earlier. “Tragic, I know. But lucky me—I’ve landed in the most capable hands.”

Your cheeks burned, and you immediately dropped your gaze, fussing with the nearest jar of ointment to avoid his eyes. “Madame Pomfrey isn’t here,” you mumbled. “I’m just helping... for now.”  

“Oh, I don’t mind,” he said, moving toward one of the hospital beds. “I think I like the idea of you taking care of me.”  

Your fingers fumbled, nearly knocking over a bottle of murtlap essence. “Sit,” you said quickly, pointing to the bed without looking at him. “You need to sit so I can... um... look at that.”  

He chuckled softly but complied, settling onto the edge of the bed. “As you wish.”  

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you grabbed a cloth and some antiseptic. But when you turned back, he wasn’t sitting anymore. He was standing again, closer now—too close, that lazy grin still firmly in place.

Your breath caught. “You—what are you doing?”  

“Stretching my legs,” he said easily, his voice low and warm.  

“You’re supposed to be resting,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to sound firm. “You’re injured—”  

“It’s nothing,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned against the desk, his dark eyes fixed on you. “I’m not that fragile, you know.”  

“But—”  

“Do I make you nervous?” he interrupted, tilting his head slightly, his curls falling into his eyes.  

You immediately shook your head, even though you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. “N-no. I mean—why would you think that?”  

“Because you’re practically shaking,” he said, his tone softer now, though no less teasing. “And because you keep looking anywhere but at me.”  

Your eyes flicked up to his for a fraction of a second before dropping back down to the floor. “I’m not... I mean, I just—”  

“You’re adorable,” he said, and the warmth in his voice made your pulse race.  

You froze, your fingers tightening on the cloth in your hands. “I should clean your cut,” you mumbled, stepping back toward him.  

But before you could reach him, he moved again, his hands finding the edge of the table on either side of you, caging you in.  

“Mattheo—”  

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a murmur. His dark eyes held yours, the intensity in them stealing the words right out of your throat. “So stop running.”  

His face was so close now, the warmth of his breath ghosting across your cheek, making your skin tingle. You could see the individual lashes framing those mesmerizing eyes, the slight curve of his lips, the way his teeth nipped gently at his lower lip...

"Come on," you muttered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. You lifted the antiseptic in your hand. "Just... please let me help you."

It sounded weak, pathetic even, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

For a long moment, he simply looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he stepped back, giving you space to breathe again.

"You're right," he said, his voice a little rougher than usual. "Thank you."

He sat back down on the bed, his posture a bit less casual now, more tense. He looked up at you through his lashes, his gaze softer than before.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just..." He paused, seeming to struggle for the right words. "I like you, Y/N. A lot. And sometimes I forget myself around you."

You blinked rapidly, processing his words. "You... really?" you asked softly, hardly daring to believe it. Slowly, hesitantly, you took a step closer, drawn to him despite your nerves.

"Yes, really," he confirmed, his voice low and sincere. As you drew near, he reached out, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. In one smooth motion, he pulled you down onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to steady you.

You gasped, your hands flying up to press against his chest. You could feel the firm muscles beneath his shirt, the rapid thud of his heartbeat. Your own heart raced in response, your cheeks flaming with heat.

He smiled softly, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your hip bones as he held you close. "There," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Isn't this better?"

You squirmed slightly in his lap, hyper-aware of every point where your bodies touched. "I... I don't know if this is a good idea," you whispered, even as your traitorous body melted into his embrace. Your hands slid up his chest to loop around his neck, fingers tangling in the soft curls at his nape.

He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through you. "Why not? We're alone, aren't we?" His hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts through your blouse. "No one has to know..."

He leaned in, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. "Let me take care of you," he breathed against your skin, his other hand sliding down to palm your ass. "I promise I'll make it feel good."

You whimpered softly as his lips and tongue worked magic on your sensitive skin, your head lolling back to give him better access. But as he kissed lower, you suddenly felt something wet and sticky on your throat–his cut.

"Wait," you gasped, pulling back slightly. You brought a hand up to your neck, your fingers coming away streaked with blood. "You're still bleeding, Mattheo. We should clean that first before... before anything else happens."

He paused, looking up at you with lust-darkened eyes. A slow, amused grin spread across his face. "You think I give a fuck about that right now?" he muttered, pulling you flush against him again. "Don't worry about that."

His hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back as he attacked your throat with renewed fervor, licking and sucking at the bloodied skin. 

"M-Mattheo," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "We shouldn't... not here..."

Even as you protested weakly, your hips started to move of their own accord, grinding down against the growing hardness you could feel pressing against your thighs. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making your head spin.

He groaned into your neck, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and into yours. His hands tightened on your hips, encouraging your movements as he rocked up against you.

"Oh, fuck. You're not as innocent as you pretend to be, huh?" he noted, his voice rough with desire.

In one fluid motion, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the bed as you stumbled back. His hands roamed possessively, sliding from your waist to the curve of your lower back before trailing up to cup the soft swell of your tits. His touch was rough and insistent, squeezing and kneading as if he couldn't get enough of you. 

Before you could catch your breath, he turned you around, his firm grip guiding you into place. His hand pressed against the small of your back, a silent command that sent heat pooling in your belly as you bent forward, your chest and palms flattening against the bed.

You felt the air shift around you, cool and heady against your heated skin, as Mattheo's fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt. He dragged it up slowly, deliberately, his movements measured, as though savoring every inch of you revealed to him.  

"Running from me, again and again," he muttered, his voice dark and edged with amusement. "And now look at you. Right where I’ve always wanted you."  

Your breath caught, shame and desire tangling in your chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond—not when his hands curled under the waistband of your panties, dragging them down the curve of your thighs in one slow, tantalizing motion.  

"Mattheo," you whispered, your voice trembling, barely audible above the pounding of your own heart.  

His low laugh sent shivers through you. "Finally saying my name. Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that? And not just in your shy little apologies."  

Your knees nearly buckled as his fingers teased the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, tracing lazy circles closer and closer to where you ached for him. He let the silence hang, heavy and charged, before looping his arm around your front. 

"Cute,” he murmured. "You’ve spent weeks avoiding me, playing coy. But I think you’ve wanted this just as much as I have. Haven’t you?"  

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—only gasp as his fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that sent sparks skittering up your spine.  

"Answer me," he demanded, his tone soft but unyielding. "I want to hear you say it."  

Your nails dug into the bedspread, and you shook your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch. "I-I don’t…"  

"Don’t what?" His fingers curled around the back of your neck, squeezing lightly. "Don’t want me? Don’t need this? Say it, sweetheart, because your body’s telling me a very different story."  

You whimpered, the heat pooling between your thighs making it impossible to deny him—or yourself. "I…I want you," you finally choked out, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure he’d heard.  

But he did.  

"Good girl," he praised, the words dripping with satisfaction. His movements quickened, drawing tight, delicious circles that had your legs trembling. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? All you had to do was stop running."  

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his hand slid down from your neck, tracing the curve of your hip before gripping your ass firmly. His other hand left your front, joining its twin to knead and grope the plush flesh, his thumbs digging in with a possessive hunger that made heat bloom low in your belly again.  

“You’re perfect here,” he mused, his voice a deep hum as he spread your cheeks apart, his touch maddeningly deliberate. “Bent over for me like this. Made for me, aren’t you?”  

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape, but Mattheo didn’t miss it. He laughed softly, the sound dripping with smug satisfaction.  

“Don’t hold back now,” he coaxed, his hands trailing up and down the back of your thighs, lingering just long enough to tease but not satisfy. “I want to hear every little sound you make for me.”  

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could form a word, his palm landed on your ass with a sharp smack—not hard enough to hurt too much, but enough to send a jolt of heat straight through you.  

“Mattheo!”  

“There it is,” he purred, his hands smoothing over the spot he’d just struck, his touch soothing and warm. “You sound so fucking sweet when you say my name like that.”  

Before you could respond, you felt the hard press of his length against you, separated only by the fabric of his trousers. He rolled his hips, letting you feel the full weight of him, and your knees buckled slightly at the realization of just how much he wanted you.  

“You feel that?” he murmured, his lips brushing the back of your neck as he reached down to unbuckle his belt. The soft clink of metal was almost drowned out by the pounding of your heart. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you run, every time you look at me with those shy little glances—you drive me fucking insane.”  

The ruffling of fabric being lowered was too hard to ignore, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back over your shoulder. The sight of him—breathing heavily, his cock thick and hard, standing proudly against the taut muscles of his stomach—sent a wave of heat washing over you.  

“Eyes front,” he ordered, his voice rough with arousal. When you didn’t obey fast enough, his hand came down on your ass again, the sharp sting making you gasp. “Now.”  

You did as he said, pressing your forehead into the bedspread as his hands roamed over you again, his touch both reverent and demanding. One hand slipped between your thighs, spreading you open, while the other gripped your hip, holding you steady.  

“God, you’re so wet for me,” he groaned, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. He teased your entrance with the tip of one finger before pushing inside, curling it just enough to make you arch back against him.  

“You like that?” he asked, his voice laced with a dark kind of affection as he added another finger, stretching you slowly. “I can feel how tight you are. So perfect. So ready for me.”  

Your answer was a broken moan, your body moving instinctively against his hand.  

“Shit,” he breathed, pulling his fingers out only to replace them with the blunt head of his cock, teasing your entrance with maddening slowness. “You’re gonna ruin me, you know that?”  

The stretch of him entering you was almost too much, but the way he worked you—inch by agonizing inch, his hands gripping your hips to keep you still—sent a wave of pleasure through you that made your toes curl.  

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice a husky growl as he bottomed out, filling you completely. He stayed there for a moment, his breathing ragged, his hands running over the curve of your back and the swell of your ass. “You feel so fucking good, baby. So tight, so perfect. Tell me how it feels.”  

“Good,” you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper. “So good.”  

“Yeah?” He pulled back slowly, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you before snapping his hips forward again with a deep thrust, filling you completely. You gasped, your body jerking forward at the force, but he didn’t give you a moment to adjust. He set a slow, measured pace, his thrusts deep but deliberate, pulling out and pushing back into you with an almost agonizing slowness that made your heart race. “You like it when I fill you up like this? When I make you mine?”  

Your only response was a strangled moan, your fingers clutching the sheets as he sped up his rhythm, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.  

His hand left your hip, sliding down to your front to brush your clit with just the right amount of pressure. "God, you’re perfect," he muttered, his voice rough as he continued to slide in and out of you, each stroke a slow burn. "I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone like I want you right now."

The pressure inside you was building, slow and steady, like the tightening of a coil. You could feel every inch of him, each thrust dragging out the pleasure until it was almost unbearable. You clenched around him, urging him deeper, and he groaned in response, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed you harder into the bed.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he breathed, his voice rough and full of need. His thrusts picked up, faster now, more urgent, but still controlled, as if he wanted to drag this out as long as possible. “You feel so fucking good, so warm and tight around me. Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

Your hands gripped the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as the pleasure mounted. He hit that sweet spot inside you with every thrust, driving you mad with the sensation, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips.

“Please…” you gasped, not sure if you were begging for more or for him to take you faster. It didn’t matter. You just needed him. 

Mattheo smirked, his fingers still pressing against your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "You want it faster? You want me to make you come on my cock?"  

You nodded, desperate for more. “Yes, please…”

“That’s what I thought,” he rasped, his thrusts quickening as he slammed into you with abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with the low groans escaping both of you.  

With one final, devastating thrust, you shattered, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave. Mattheo wasn’t far behind, his rhythm growing erratic as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name as he followed you over the edge.  

For a moment, the world was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths and the heat of his body against yours. Then, slowly, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.  

“You’re not running from me again,” he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. “Not now. Not ever.” 

ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan

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[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: hybrid au, bullying, harassment

♡ GN reader

A sudden evolutionary change befalls the entire human race, turning everyone into hybrids…

And as your bully comes to terms with how much bulkier he's become, along with his new sharp teeth, stronger jaw, and round furry ears, as well as the little tassel he'd grown for a tail, he's also picturing you—his cute little classmate. 

At first, he caught himself thinking about what you'd look like if you were part bear like him, but then, when mulling over the fact that everyone had altered into some type of animal that seemed to complement characteristics they had already, he began wondering what animal characteristics best suited you, and what your bullyable body now looked like.

If he were to guess before seeing you, he'd think your meek nature must have gifted you with an animal equally as pathetic—like a little mouse.

But no, not exactly, though not far off either. 

There you are, in the classroom before anyone else, bright and early like always, as if you want him to catch you alone.

“Well, well, well… look what we have here,” he announces himself, placing one heavy foot before the other as he saunters over to your desk.

You jump up from your chair in a flurry, spooked by his voice. "Oh–hey," you greet, timidly like usual, maybe even more so, as you take in his new size, eyes widening as you do.

"Tch-" he scoffs, sharp eyes looking down at you, thinking you must have shrunk a whole head before remembering how his growth was probably half to blame. "Of course, the most useless person in the world turns into the most useless animal ever."

Your button nose wriggles, but you don’t dare negate his statement. "And you're a—" you start, but almost instantly regret it as obvious an observation as it is, "Bear."

He sneers, "Guess what they say about bunnies being dumb is true after all."

Your buck teeth peek forth as you bite into your lip, bowing your head. "Was there something you wanted?"

With his hands in his front pockets, he stands there for a moment—in silence that only seemed to increase in deadliness the longer it lasted, before stating his demand, "Show me your tail."

You look up at him at that. "W-why?"

He unpockets his paw and plants it on your desk, leaning in close. A grin spread on his lips—fangs and all. "'Cause I wanna see it. So turn around."

You shake your head pitifully. "N-no, that's embarrassing."

But he doesn’t care much about your refusal, only sighing heavily before grabbing your arm and pulling you forward until your chest met the solid surface of the desk, bent over it oh-so-prettily and ready for inspection.

"Come on, dont be difficult," he growls through a smirk, watching you wiggle a bit until settling down, all too quickly yielding under his mighty grip—a display that makes him lick his teeth before slolwy lifting your shirt, pulling it up your back, watching as the little tuft of fur waiting beneath it springs out of hiding for him to see.

He simpers at the sight, then eagerly goes to feel it. 

You whimper at his handling, but he ignores you. Feeling up the softness between his fingers. "Tch–so fluffy… no different from a stuffed animal."

His eyes pan to your face, looking at it cower, squished against the desk with knitted brows and eyes squeezed shut. You’re really just gonna lie there and let him do this, aren’t yah?

"Lop ears are a sign of domestication, y'know?" he says then, picking one of the floppy things up, giving it a rub that makes your whimpers turn into whines. 

"Yeah… if it wasn't clear enough before…” he chuckles. “You're as submissive as they come.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kyotani, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ DS – Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist