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horny-marbles · 2 months ago

Note

eyeless jack medical kink smut ?! please please please 🙏🙏🙏

YESSIR 🗣️🗣️ rubbing my hands, plotting, scheming... i might be bullshitting a bit because i have close to 0 medical knowledge lmao. also writer's block actually made me rip my hair out w this one for some reason. i read and reread this shit like...... an embarrassing amount of times and i literally got writing dysmorphia or whatever you call it 💀 BUT ANYWAY HOPE YOU ENJOY ANON!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Loose Hinges (Eyeless Jack x F!Reader)

CW: med examination, a little sadism kinda maybe if you squint, biting and blood, oral (f giving), orgasm denial, squirt, creampie, overall clinical feel... most of it anyhow :P

word count 5.2k

It’s not like he ever applied for the job.

There was no moment where Jack stepped forward, cracked his knuckles, and offered his services as the mansion’s unofficial medic. No CV given to Slender. No stethoscope slung around his neck, no degrees on the wall.

It started when Jeff dislocated his shoulder during some feral knife tantrum, most definitely breaking out over nothing. No one else even looked twice at his slinging arm; it's not like a house full of maimed psychopaths possessed the medical knowledge or the fucks to give. Jack hadn’t even blinked. Just walked over, expression unreadable as always, and popped the joint back in with the ease of someone tying a shoelace. No warning. No hesitation. He simply... Fixed it, like it was only natural.

Since then, it just happened. One by one, the mansion’s walking disasters started coming to him. Concussions. Lacerations. Broken ribs. Nothing experimental. Nothing fancy. Just quiet, competent fixes. He didn’t like doing it. He didn’t complain either. It was just… efficient. Someone had to do it, and he had the hands.

He wouldn't do it for free, however. Hence the rules. Don't come in empty handed - whether it's organs that would save him the headache of procuring himself, or stolen medical supplies, bring something or don't even bother dragging yourself there. Most importantly, hands to yourself. God forbid you touch his sterile equipment - he won't give you reasons to get stitches, but you will bleed out on your own moving forward.

So now, the old storage room down the hall is a makeshift infirmary. Bright, sharp overhead lighting. Stainless steel trays. Gauze stacked halfway to the ceiling. It smells like antiseptic and cold metal. It’s quiet. No music, no decor, no pampering or sugarcoating. Just Jack, his gloves, and a collection of very sharp, very clean tools.

You’ve been avoiding it like the plague for two days.

Your jaw hasn’t stopped throbbbing since your last mission: one bad punch across the face, and you’d felt something shift, something click. Now you can’t eat, can’t yawn, can’t speak more than a few words without crunching down on pain. You’ve been living on ibuprofen and denial, but it’s not cutting it anymore.

No answer.

So you’re here. Standing in front of the door with your hand curled around your jaw like it’ll stop your skull from splitting in half, the other tight around a plastic bag that hung with the weight of viscera from your hand. You stare at the peeling label on the door: just a fading piece of masking tape with “MEDICAL” scrawled in some unfamiliar hand - and you knock once.

You try again. Still nothing. You knew he smelled the organs in the bag from two hallways away, so he was just ignoring you, you realized.

You grit your teeth - big mistake - and finally push the door open. You stepped inside with your hand still curled around the plastic grocery bag like it was radioactive. The contents shifted and sloshed wetly with each step, and despite your best efforts not to flinch, your lips curled slightly in subconcious disgust.

The infirmary is colder than the rest of the mansion. Jack probably kept it that way to discourage loitering. The white light overhead buzzes faintly, casting sterile shadows over the clean stainless steel counter and shelves. No chairs. Just one padded table in the center, a stool for his own aid, and a tray of gleaming metal tools so clean they almost glitter.

He doesn’t look up at first. Just finishes changing the nitrile gloves on his hands, already prepped, like he expected you to just let yourself in. The scent hit you a second later - alcohol, something minty and clean, but sharp enough to keep you from getting too comfortable.

“Someone knocked you off alignment,” he said without turning. His voice was low, smooth, the usual emotionless timbre that somehow still managed to sound like an accusation. “Jaw?”

You nodded even though you knew he couldn’t see it. “Yeah,” you said quietly, jaw tight and throbbing behind your ears, setting the bag down on the metal table beside the door. “Some dude clocked me good. It fucking hurts and pops.”

That got him to glance your way, head tilting slightly, two gaping pits of darkness that housed no sight meeting your gaze. Bottomless, still. You stood a little straighter under the weight of his stare, even if it was only symbolic.

A moment passes in which you assumed he assessed the payment you brought, and his voice, calm as ever, slices through the tension in your shoulders like a scalpel.

“Sit,” he says flatly. “Close the door.”

You do both.

The door shuts with a quiet click, and you cross the room stiffly, dropping onto the edge of the padded table. Jack approaches without another word. There’s no greeting. No question. Just him crouching into your space, gloved fingers reaching for your chin like you’re an object in need of assessment.

You stiffen.

His touch is firm, not cruel. Cold from the gloves. He tilts your head to the left, then the right, thumbing along your jawline, pressing beneath the bone with a practiced kind of pressure that sends a deep ache skittering through your temples. You wince.

“Open,” he says.

You part your lips slowly. It hurts. No shit.

He doesn’t acknowledge your reaction. Just tilts your head back further, inspecting the hinge of your jaw. His fingers move with mechanical efficiency, tracing muscle, bone, tendon, head tilting slightly to one side, like he’s calculating something.

“Left TMJ. Inflamed,” he murmurs. “Partial dislocation.”

His voice is low, expressionless, as if reading from a file you can’t see.

“Clench.”

You hesitate.

He repeats himself, this time slightly slower. Not louder. Not forceful. Just... lower. Less about patience and more about efficiency and the time he could spend not doing this instead.

“Clench.”

You obey, pressing your teeth together. The dull spike of pain nearly makes you gag. He feels your muscles shift beneath the skin, then finally releases your chin and steps back just enough to grab a tool you don't recognize right away from a nearby shelf.

“Inflammation’s aggravating the joint. I’ll reset it.”

Your stomach turns.

“You- what?”

His head tilts again, the black voids of his eyes unreadable.

“You’ll need to relax. The longer you wait, the worse it will get.” A pause. “I don’t offer sedation.”

Of course he doesn’t.

“Lie back.”

You hesitate for a second too long.

Jack waits, motionless, gloved hands poised in front of him like he’s prepping for surgery instead of resetting a jaw. His head tilts half a degree, just enough for you to feel the weight of his wordless stare pressing on your sternum.

"...Fine." You lie back.

The vinyl of the exam table is cold against your spine. You shift slightly, arms flat at your sides. Your eyes trail the overhead light until Jack steps into view again, eclipsing it. Towering, shadowed, cut like stone. The only sound is the soft creak of latex gloves as he flexes his fingers.

He moves with no wasted motion, tongue depressor in one hand and a small penlight in the other. Click.

“Open again. Wider.”

You try. Surprise! It hurts again.

He doesn’t comment on the way your jaw trmbles. Just braces your chin with one hand and shines the light into your mouth, scanning along your gums, the hinge, the roof. You expect it to end there, for him to snap your jaw into place like a lego - but then he trades the depressor for something worse.

His fingers. Gloved, cool, long.

He presses two between your lips, careful but firm, thumb anchoring your jaw from underneath while the others sweep along the inside of your cheek. Checking for torn tissue, maybe. Infection. Misalignment. Who knows. His knuckles brush your tongue. You swallow without meaning to.

The sound that leaves your throat is humiliating.

Jack doesn’t react. Doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift, doesn’t even breathe different. His fingers curl slightly, pressing into the soft flesh near your molars. The texture of the glove drags over skin that dried of spit from how long you've been gaping. Slow. Thorough. Your jaw aches and your body lights up in response.

Not from pain.

He’s not doing anything wrong. That’s the problem.

He’s not being seductive. Not being coy. Not even looking at you, not really. Just working. Focused, professional, detached. Like a job.

And it’s that - exactly that - that makes heat pool between your legs. You squeeze your thighs, trying to quiet your own body’s treachery. His fingers glide across the base of your tongue again, tipping your chin just slightly with the pad of his thumb. Your breath snags. What the fuck is wrong with you.

He withdraws a little slower this time, still silent, still careful. You would've almost relaxed if it weren't for the impending intervention that would surely make you keel over in pain.

“I need to assess the displacement,” he mutters, already applying pressure to the hinge of your jaw. “Don’t talk.”

You weren’t planning to. Not anymore.

The pads of his thumbs press just under your ears, right where the mandible meets muscle. He rotates your jaw gently but firmly, thumbs pressing into the tension like he’s mapping your pain. He doesn’t wince at the faint click, or the flinch you fail to suppress. He just notes it.

“There’s swelling,” he murmurs. “One of the ligaments is likely strained.”

You nod a little, before realizing you weren’t supposed to move. But Jack doesn’t comment. He’s just quiet for a moment. Still.

...Too still.

Your heart is hammering, and it’s not subtle anymore. Not to him.

You realize, too late, what he’s actually doing, what’s got him so motionless, so tuned in.

He's fucking listening.

His head angles ever so slightly toward your chest, and you can feel the moment he registers your heartbeat spiking. Not just hears it, but tracks it. Listens to it as data.

Then he inhales, slow and silent.

Oh no.

He can smell it. You know he can. Arousal blooming like a warm, humid pulse between your legs, sweet and tentative and absolutely real. You can't help but panic, bracing to be humiliated right here on his table. This is precisely why you even put off coming in to begin with.

But instead of recoiling, or making some awful comment, or pretending it didn’t happen-

He keeps going. Calm. Unmoved.

He moves one hand to the back of your head, cradling it with unnerving gentleness. The other comes to your jaw again, fingers curled around it, his thumb bracing on one side of your jaw, beneath your warm, flushed ear, the other four cradling the opposite side.

“I’m going to adjust it,” he says. “You may feel pressure. And pain.”

You exhale slow. “Okay.”

You’re practicalky vibrating now, your breath catching as he shifts even closer. He doesn’t need to touch more than necessary - never does - but his size alone is overwhelming, broad shoulders blocking out the harsh overhead light, his stance boxing you in like a shadow falling over prey.

He doesn't even give you a countdown. Doesn't brace you, doesn't warn you.

He just does it.

The crack is sharp and sounds like a cracked tooth. Sickening to anyone else, but not to him. Your eyes blur for a second, and for a moment all you can register is the heat between your legs and the full-body jolt of pain-pleasure confusion ripping through your nerves.

His hands stay where they are. Steady. Silent.

Then his voice again, low and completely unbothered:

“Better?”

You nod absently, breath shallow. You can’t speak. Not yet. You can't yet rip yourself from the sharp flash of skull splitting pain, even as he leans in. Just barely.

He doesn't spedk right away. His head remains tilted in that eerie, artificial way - listening. Not to your words, but to your body. The air feels too heavy, too thick.

"You’re flushed. Pulse elevated. Pupils dilated." His voice is calm, unbothered. “You're aroused.”

You look down, heart pounding even harder, like it’s trying to prove his point. You're in a closed room with a predator. Of course no pulse stammer, no change in scent escape him. And you stupidly, naively told yourself he'd at least not bring it up.

You almost defend yourself - almost- but your jaw still aches and your pride’s already halfway out the door.

He doesn’t accuse you. Doesn’t leer. Just continues peering down at you, seemingly toward your jaw, like calling you out on being horny on his table was just an afterthought.

Then, finally:

"You're at risk of muscular dysfunction," he hums. “TMJ compression may recur if the surrounding joints aren’t conditioned.”

You blink.

“What?”

"Therapy for mandibular strength. Repetitive movement. Isometric pressure.”

"...That sounds fake," you say, eyes narrowing.

"It’s not. I can administer a routine exercise,” he says. “If you comply.”

Your heart skips. No fucking way.

You force yourself to scoff, weakly. “What, like... chewing gum?”

“No,” he says, utterly expressionless, voice dry as bleached bone. “Like sucking my cock.”

The room goes still. You stare at him, face slack, brain flatlining. He doesn’t even shift.

You’d almost feel like you were being punked, if it weren’t for the clinical detachment in his voice. No grin. No teasing. Just a prescription. Like this is really just for your condition.

He gestures downward with a hand, slow and clear.

“On your knees.”

You're about to argue, but then you watch that same hand start undoing his belt. And you forget what you were going to say. Your legs move before your brain catches up.

The tile is cold beneath you as you lower. He doesn’t touch you, doesnt help guide you down or force your head to his cock. Just lets you get into position, calm as ever, the way a doctor waits for a patient to position themselves on an exam table.

You stare up at him, at the harsh shadows where his eyes should be, into that void of unsettling silence. Your mouth is already falling open, your jaw aching but looser now, slightly. You're not sure if it's from the realignment or the anticipation.

He watches you. Not hungrily. Not cruelly. Just assessing, patient.

“Begin."

The thing is, Jack doesn't get involved. That’s what the others say. And it’s true.

He doesn’t flirt. Doesn’t fuck. Doesn’t linger in the common rooms or hover near bedrooms or watch anyone with anything in between clinical focus or utter disinterest.

Because frankly, there’s no one worth the effort. Not even during his mating season, when the heat is so overbearing and insufferable that he has to claw at his own raging cock to calm it down.

The women here are loud, violent, erratic. Jack learned early that entanglement breeds chaos. Even if his body hungers, his mind doesn’t. Definitely not for them, and what else was there? So he keeps to himself. Detached. Controlled.

And then you showed up.

Not particularly warm. Not particularly broken. Just... quiet. Smart. Pretty in a way that didn't demand attention. Kept your distance, likw him. And yet, here you are - kneeling on the tile floor of his makeshift infirmary, lips parted around the head of his cock with your jaw aching and your scent ripe with want.

He watches your mouth stretch open, just slightly at first, gauging the tension at the hinge.

“You’ll feel pressure,” he says, voice low but even, steady as his heartbeat. “Don’t force it. Let the joint relax.”

He’s big. Too big to take all at once without locking up, especially with your already scuffed jaw. So you ease into it, inch by slow, careful inch. His cock is heavy on your tongue, smooth and hot and stiffening by the second. You fight your gag reflex - not disgusted, but overwhelmed. By the size, by his taste and smell, none bad, but strong and raw and, in a way, threatening. Breathe through your nose. Let your lips seal slowly around the shaft.

Your jaw protests, dull pain radiating down into your neck. He hears your breathing shift.

“Discomfort?”

You nod faintly, but doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t stop you.

Instead, one hand lifts, settling under your chin, thumb pressing just beneath your ear as he begins to gently palpate the muscle, fingers feeling the give of the joint.

“Keep going,” he murmurs. “I need to feel the range.”

You suck in a slow breath. Take more of him in. It almost starts to feel like standard procedure by the way he acts. Almost.

The ache doesn’t disappear, but it starts to change. Dulls. Warms. The longer your mouth stays stretched, the looser the hinge feels, the less resistance there is in your jaw. Your tongue shifts around him, trying to ease the burn, and in doing so, draws a low hum from Jack’s chest.

“Good,” he says.

Definitely not standard procedure. You nearly moan.

Your spit starts to coat him, slowly bubbling thick and milky around the base. You're getting messy - your tongue laps greedily, spit slicking his shaft in glistening ropes. Every soft choke earns you another steady hum of approval.

He doesn’t move his hips. Doesn’t thrust. Big palm still engulfing the underside of your jaw, claws twitching just barely into your skin every time you hollow your cheeks and suck back up to the tip.

You look up at him, half-dazed, spit slicking your chin, your jaw hanging looser than before. He looks down, impassive, but there's no hiding the pinch in his brows or the flare of his nostrils when the head of his cock kisses the back of your throat.

“That’s it,” he grunts, low and strained. “Take it. Just like that.”

Your thighs press together involuntarily, and your hand moves before you even register it,sliding under your waistband, fingers slipping past soaked underwear to your cunt.

You’re drenched. The cotton is soaked through, sticking to your knuckles, to your mound, molded soft into the shape of your folds. You rub slow circles around your clit, moaning softly around him, trying to time it with the slurp of your mouth to hide the sound. Your hips twitch.

But you forget who you’re with.

He stiffess above you - not in surprise, but stillness. His head tilts just barely to the side.

“...You’re touching yourself.”

You freeze for half a breath, almost even pull your hand out of your pants. But he doesn’t stop you. Instead, his chest rises subtly.

He smells it.

The scent of your weeping cunt is thicker in the air, heady and tempered with and unmistakable. It mixes with the saline bite of sweat, the copper tang of blood from your payment, the chemical sharpness of antiseptic - but it’s yours that cuts through. Potent. Raw. Smearing on your thighs as you keep sucking.

He wasn’t planning on fucking you.

He didn’t need to. Your mouth would’ve sufficed - tight, warm, obedient. That would’ve been more than enough. A rare indulgence, a contained one.

But the sound.

That squelch of your pussy under your fingers - the slick wetness of it as your hips jerk and your moan stutters muffled around his cock - that changes everything.

He looks down at you then, fingers tightening ever so slightly in your hair.

“You’re soaked,” he says, tone low but not judgmental - observational, but something less unaffected coils around it now. “From sucking my dick?”

You don’t respond. You can't, your tongue is strained flat on the bottom of your mouth by the throbbing weight of his cock.

He leans forward, shadow cast across your flushed, fucked-out face.

“Get up,” he says. Calm. Firm. Final.

You blink up at him, dazed, lips puffy pink and wet.

“Up,” he repeats, slipping free of your mouth with a wet pop. “You’re not doing this on the floor.”

He pulls you to your feet with one smooth motion, strong and sure and impersonal as ever.

But his cock is still hard, glistening with spit, and when he steps in close, you feel the head nudge against your abdomen like an omen.

You look up at him as he pushes you back against the edge of the padded table, fully expecting another string of well measured medical excuses for wanting to sink into your pussy... But you were met with silence - thick, heavy, hungry even if he didn't outwardly show it. You didn't know whether to feel relieved or warned.

He doesn’t undress with hunger or haste. His movements are smooth, methodical, devoid of showmanship, just as he handles everything else in this space. Just his fingers unfastening buttons, peeling away layers like they’re in the way - not like they’re what covers you, but what obstructs you. What obstructs him.

And then he’s looming between your spread legs, cock hanging heavy and thick between his thighs, shining like a sword from your drool. The room is so quiet, you swear you can hear the shift of his weight when he steps closer.

His hands wrap around your thigh, latex squeaking as it slips over sweat. Your breath chokes short. He folds you in half, entirely - calmly forcing your thighs back until you’re bent near double. The stretch burns deliciously through your hamstrings, your hips, your spine.

And then he’s holding you there, palming the backs of your thighs as if anchoring you in place, cock nudging your entrance with zero urgency.

You squirm.

It earns you a hard slap to the inside of your thigh - sharp enough to make you jolt, wet enough that it echoes. Quick enough to make you want to chase it again.

“Don’t move,” he says.

Then, slowly - almost cruelly - he presses in.

You gasp. It’s as much of a fill as it is a stretch. Thick, deep, unrelenting. Your cunt clenches around him instantly, fluttering as your walls fight to adjust. His cock drags inside you with obscene smoothness, and stops. He doesn’t thrust yet. Just holds. Buries himself to the hilt and lets your body adjust. Not a hint of frenzy - he splits you open like he’s measuring you.

He exhales sharp, almost a sigh.

Your mouth drops open, but not in moan. It hangs. Your jaw slackens.

His hand is suddenly at your face, fingers curling under your chin, thumb pressing lightly into your jaw’s hinge, closing your mouth back up.

“You'll get lockjaw if you keep doing that,” he says coolly. “Hold it steady.”

The pressure increases. Not painful, not tenderly, but correcting.

His hips roll forward.

Slow, strong, deep,like he’s testing your depth, like he’s counting the inches it takes to pull another stifled moan from your throat.

You squeeze around him, clenching uncontrollably - already wound tight from your fingers, every nerve raw, oversensitive, like you'd been edged for hours. It could've been almost humiliating how close you were already, if it weren't for the strokes of his cock restarting your train of thought, over and over.

“Shit,” he hisses, jaw tight, his impassivity fracturing just for a moment. “You’re-”

He cuts himself off.

His hand slides downward and finds your clit.

You barely have time to react before he pinches so hard that it makes your entire body arch and tense up. Sharp pressure blooms, pleasure laced with heat and pain and a stifled cry you can’t quite make with your mouth full of shallow panting.

Your hips jerk, and he slams them back down.

“Don’t cum yet,” he growls - his voice now tinged, barely, with something more animal than human or demonic. “You’re tighter when you’re close.”

He pinches again.

Your vision blurs.

“Control yourself,” he repeats as he slides in again, deeper. “You wanted this- then let it last.”

He starts fucking you, really fucking you, like your desperation and your body burstingat the seams with need was barely even an inconvenience to him.

But he's starting to crumble. Slowly, surely, a thrust every few rolls of his hips stuttering and pushing in too quickly. Slipping again and again, not immune to the warmth and wetness and tightness swallowing his cock whole like it was carved for this.

The table rocks under each thrust, his rhythm measured but no longer calculated, driving you into the vinyl with every pump of his hips. Your pussy makes obscene noises - slick, messy, greedy, sucking him back in every time he draws out.

He’s breathing harder now. No longer silent.

Low groans, thick and guttural, start slipping out,like they’re being torn from a throat that never lets itself make sound.

You swear you hear it: a cracked "fuck," deep in his chest, not quite meant to be spoken.

He grabs your jaw again, not with medical intent now, but need - fingers firm, his palm cupping your face to anchor you as he fucks in deeper, like he’s chasing the tightest part of you.

You’re shaking. You’re soaked. You’re held open, filled full, and denied again and again.

You don’t know when his hands started shaking.

Maybe the third or fourth time he smacked and pinched your clit to edge you, cunt suctioning wet around his cock and throbbing dull and unsatisfactory. Maybe it was when you clenched on him during a particularly hard thrust and moaned like you were crying.

You hear it before you feel it. A snap, the high pitched pop of nitrile tearing beneath too-sharp pressure. His claws rip clean through the gloves. You catch the gleam of black keratin as they flex in the light.

And then he’s grabbing at you, groping you.

No longer practical. No longer careful.

Claws rake up your ribs, scratch over your tits, dig into the soft skin of your hips and thighs, not deep enough to slice but enough to sting, to leave microscopic beads of crimson in their wake. It’s primal. Like he’s trying to ground himself in the tactile, in the way your body grips him back, in the way your skin gives under his nature.

His pace becomes erratic.

Thrusts slam in harder, faster, more ragged,driven not by logic, not by need, but by want. The sound of your slick, the wet, high-pitched slap of it echoing against the walls, drives him deeper into something bigger than him.

You barely catch your breath before he lunges forward, body folding over you, arms braced against the table, his face in the crook of your neck.

You can feel a rumble in his chest - barely a warning at all - before be clamps down on your skin.

He sinks sharp, inhuman teeth into your shoulder with a guttural growl, like he's tasting something sacred, savoring it. Your flesh parts around each fang with a wet, horrible rip, and blood surges from the wound.

He doesn’t apologize as you shriek and claw at his biceps, his hair, anything to try and pry him off. Not even budging.

He laps. Licks deep, filthy stripes into your bleeding shoulder, groaning low, like he’s drinking down ambrosia.

You’re shaking beneath him, jaw slack with disbelief, pain, arousal.

He fucks into you harder, punishing, like he’s trying to weld his hips to yours. One hand slides down between your legs again, making you sob a pathetic little sound, bracing yourself for the worst again,but this time, he doesn’t pinch.

He finally rubs. Firm and fast, two fingers circling your clit with relentless pressure, dragging wet, slippery circles that sync with the piston of his cock, so fucking delicious and relieving that you almost don't even register the sting that blooms where the tips of his claws snug on your lips.

“Cum,” he growls, against your neck, against your blood, breath hot and voice wrecked. "Cum on this cock. Fucking milk it."

You wail in relief, and your whole body shudders with built-up pressure finally released. It hits like a crash - blinding, consuming, full-body spazms wracking your frame, legs trembling, pussy squeezing in pulses so strong it drags a strangled groan from deep in his chest.

You squirt. Just little sharp, rhythmic gushes, splattering down his length and the table beneath, every spasm squeezing more out of you.

“Fuck,” Jack snarls, then bites you again, this time at the base of your neck.

The pain is searing. White-hot. It makes your cunt tighten like a fist, sight blurring at the edges. And somehow- somehow - it just makes your orgasm stronger.

You feel yourself convulsing, helpless against the wave, and all you can do is hang on while he fucks you through it, deep, brutal, unrelenting. One clawed hand grips your jaw to keep it steady, the other still working your clit until tears start rolling down your cheeks from stimulation you can't mold around.

You're too gone to feel much more than a blurred wave of too much. Too fucked out to feel him tense and stutter above you. You only feel it once he slams in to the hilt and stalls, slicing through your walls and punching your cervix with the force of it. You almost black out on the spot.

It’s guttural. Deep. A sound torn out of something that doesn’t make sounds like that. He pulses inside you,thick, hot, and neglected for too long, filling you to the brim as he drinks from your neck like you're bleeding syrup.

His claws curl into your hips. His cock twitches inside you, pumping every last drop. And then - for the first time - he moans.

Not quiet. Not deadpan. A raw, feral, wrecked sound that's almost too spent to have come from the throat of a demon.

It vibrates through your bones.

And when it’s over, when he finally slows, pulls back just enough to breathe, you’re shaking under him, your jaw sore, your pussy flooded and bullied raw, your blood still wet on his lips. He pulls out like a scalpel being sheathed, his cock dragging slick and heavy from your used cunt, no wince, no remark, no reaction to the cum leaking out of you like evidence of something intimate.

And Jack is just silent again. Panting slowly subsiding into inaudible, steady breaths.

There’s no tenderness to the way he moves - no shushing, no soft hands. Just the same methodical detachment as always. He steps away from your body like it’s just another mess to clean.

Your skin is slick with sweat, your neck sticky with blood, thighs trembling and dripping with both of you - and he doesn’t even pause to look.

He just peels off the shredded gloves, tosses them into the trash with a snap of latex, and reaches for a fresh pair.

You’re still folded over the table, chest heaving, mouth hanging slightly open, when you feel him back at your side - hands sterile, gloved, impersonal all over again.

“Don’t move.”

The command is soft, but it’s not kind. Just practical.

He starts with the neck.

The bite wound is deep, ugly and violent and born from nothing but a selfish need, but he doesn’t flinch at the sight. Doesn’t murmur an apology or ask if it hurts. He just cleans. Disinfects. Presses a thick pad of gauze to the bite, tapes it down with no lingering touches.

Your shoulder is next, swabbed, sealed and wrapped. Then your thighs, your ribs. You feel the sting of antiseptic where his claws broke skin. He doesn’t slow.

He doesn’t speak.

When he’s finished with the worst of it, he steps between your knees again, tilts your chin up with two fingers.

“You clenched through your orgasm,” he says, tone flat. “Let me check your jaw.”

Your lips part instinctively, even as your eyes roll, unimpressed - and he presses a thumb along the hinge, palpating, observing. There’s pressure. A little discomfort. No pain.

“Still aligned.” A pause. “Mobility improved.”

He wipes his hands on a cloth and turns away.

“You’re cleared.”

You blink.

That’s it?

No goodbye. No acknowledgment. Not even a fucking nod.

You half-expect him to say something - anything at all- about what just happened. About him fucking you raw, drinking from your neck, and cumming so deep inside you it’s still dripping out onto the floor. But no. Nothing. His back stays turned. Shoulders relaxed. Voice cool.

“Try to avoid impact to the jaw for the next 48 hours. If the pain persists or worsens, come back.”

...Predictable.

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otsalezu · 2 months ago

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Dr. Pinington One Shot 2: Lobotomy Boogaloo

Credit to the amazing @babyblankyerror for the AU and the amazing @coniferouspines for the AU of the AU! I took some liberties with it but I hope you guys enjoy! Writing below the cut, as usual.

The living room was completely silent, save for the constant tapping of Stan’s finger on any nearby surface. The man’s fidgeting didn’t seem nervous, being almost subconscious if anything. In contrast, Ford sat uncomfortably still. He cursed himself for letting Fiddleford go out for groceries on his own. He’d simply been too awkward to join the man, and his research partner took no extra time escaping the strange faux doctor in the room.

The awkward silence gave Ford some extra time to examine just how much his brother had changed. The clothes, for one, were definitely out of place. Slightly tattered and stained, draped in a long lab coat. The silliness of the name tag and various cartoony designs stitched across the lab coat reminded him more of something his brother would have done when they were little. His hair was long and matted, as if it hadn’t been brushed in a long time. The signature curls it had once sported were completely gone. Even more worrying were the long stitches that seemed to cover his hands. They seemed expertly done, but Ford had no doubt he had done them himself. Various smaller scars littered his visible skin, barely standing out unless he squinted.

Most concerning was the eye. Pale blue, the pupil much too small. It stared ahead, as if looking past him. He tried not to say anything, but the gaze seemed to draw the question out of him. Before he could even think about what he was saying, he had blurted it out.

“What happened to your eye?” He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, but the man didn’t seem offended. If anything, his grin widened.

“Oh, that’s right! You wouldn’t know! Hmm…where do I start? Oh! Okay, let’s start with my old boss!”

“Your old boss removed your…?”

“No, nothing as crude as that! Let me finish, okay? So! I was a good worker, very good if I say so myself! But! I had a problem. You know me, Six. Always rebellious! Stubborn as a mule, that’s what ma always said! So my boss did a little research.”

Stan laughed, a disjointed and wheezy sound. Then, after a few coughs, his face twisted into a thoughtful expression.

“Say, brainiac, you know what a topectomy is?”

“Ah, I can’t say I do.”

“Hmm, that’s what I thought. Okay, do you know what a transorbital lobotomy is?”

The world seemed to screech to a halt. Nothing about his brother’s demeanor had changed, still the same eerie cheeriness as before. To Ford, however, he felt like throwing up. As if not noticing his brother’s change in demeanor, the doctor continued.

“Well, they needed to do it through the eye.”

He tapped the blue iris, grinning as if he;d just told a great joke.

“Isn’t it wonderful? It was all very experimental, of course. I wish they’d filmed it! Of course, I made it a bit difficult. For some stupid reason, I went down kicking and screaming. Weird, isn’t it? Well! They tried their best, but sadly I woke up in the middle. The doctor they hired wasn't a professional, not like me! So he startled easily, and…squish!”

Ford jumped at the onomatopoeia, cringing. His vision blurred slightly, as he processed what had just been told to him.

“Stan…”

“Of course, I thanked them all after. They all got free procedures!”

“Stan, you…”

“I got to take over that old doctor’s office. Very unprofessional, he barely even sterilized his station! But I was so much better than him, really. It was no big loss! But I’m not ungrateful. As thanks for him fixing me with his procedure, I modeled my new eye after his! Pretty, isn’t it? Wanna see it closer?”

“Stanley!”

The doctor startled, confusion flashing on his usually jovial face. Ford took in a ragged breath, swallowing the bile in his throat.

“Are you telling me someone tried to lobotomize you?”

“Well, yes! That’s what I just told you about. Always so silly, Sixer. But don’t look so sad! My hands have been so much steadier ever since! I’m twice the surgeon I was before!”

“Before?”

Stan opened up his lab coat, fishing out a photograph from one of the many mismatched pockets inside.

“Here! Take a look!”

The photo of Stan had two brown eyes, and significantly less stitches. He was standing near a few unfamiliar men, in what seemed to be a dingey excuse for a doctor’s office. He had the same wobbly smile on his face, though every part of his face seemed laced with fear. His hands were slightly blurry, as if they had been shaking when the photo was taken. Stan quickly stuffed the picture back in the pocket.

“What a wreck, right? I was horrible at my job! Just horrible! But now, I don’t get all anxious and shaky. You can trust me to perform any operation!”

“I’m so sorry. Stanley, I’m so—”

“Don’t apologize! It’s a bad picture, I understand!”

“That’s not—”

“Hey, why are we talking about my dumb old past! I’m much better now, that’s all that matters!”

Ford stared at his twin’s expression. It seemed just as happy as ever, but something about it was different. It was as if looking at the old photograph made him uneasy, uncomfortable. Ford didn’t understand it, but he didn’t want Stanley to be upset. Not after all he’d talked about. A pang of guilt rang out through him as he thought about how terrified he’d been just moments ago.

“Alright, Lee. We can talk about something else.”

The old childhood nickname made Stan’s face split into that unsettling grin, though it didn’t disturb Ford half as much anymore. He smiled a faint smile in return, sitting back down.

“Well, let me tell you about my first day in Gravity Falls…”

#stanley pines #gravity falls au #gravity falls #stan pines #stanford pines #gravity falls stanley #gravity falls fanfiction #Dr pinington #Dr pinington au #lobotomy #medical horror

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angelicblondie · 11 months ago

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footballplayer!rafe x wag!reader (MDNI)

note: i dont know a lot about football so some details about that might be wrong!!

it was safe to say that your life had drastically changed over the last year.

before you met rafe, you were simply a girl working a marketing 9 to 5, with a fairly boring life. you had dinner with you parents once a month, went to work every day, you had nights out with you friends on the weekends- your life was just like any other girl approaching her mid 20s.

however, over a year ago, you were at a bar on a saturday night with a couple of your girlfriends, just trying to let loose from the week. you were only a couple shots in when you spotted the handsome stranger eyeing you from afar, and you were immediately filled with intrigue. rafe felt himself being magnetically pulled to your direction, sauntering over to where you stood with your friends by the bar.

he approached you with his sickly charming smile, wooing you instantly. the two of you got to talking and if you were honest, you were smitten instantly. about 5 minutes into the conversation you realized who you were talking to - rafe cameron, the new startup qb for your cities team. you weren't a huge football fan, but you'd have to be living under a rock not to know who rafe freaking cameron was. he had become a huge deal in the past months, reasons ranging from his killer wrist to his deadly looks.

you had seen girls thirsting over him on social media and you couldnt help but agree - the guy was smoking hot, even more so in person, making you honestly a little surprised he was even talking to you.

you look a sip of your drink, eyeing him thoughtfully. "so, whats a hot shot like you doing in this dump?" you ask, your voice teasing yet soft.

rafe let out a chuckle. "I could ask you the same question. dont you gotta boyfriend at home or somethin'?" he asked experimentally, awaiting you answer with the tilt of his head.

you bit your lip, catching his drift. "no boyfriend," you reply, twirling the straw in your drink. "how 'bout you? no groupie chasing after you?"

rafe poked his tongue into his cheek with a smile, shaking his head. "nah, on my own at the moment."

you hum, nodding along to his words before wrapping your lips around your straw, locking into his eyes as you sucked the liquid out of your glass.

thats how you ended up on his bed later that night, letting him pound into you as you screamed into his pillow - truly the best sex you had ever had at that point.

whilst your sexual chemistry was undeniable, so was your romantic chemistry. the two of you flowed into conversation easily, and could feel the early excitement of your new situation.

you spent the whole week at rafes house - only leaving his side for work, and him for training. the two of you showered in the morning, made or ordered in meals for dinner, and talked late into the night, about anything and everything (and of course, had sex. lots and lots of it). you got to know rafe, from his early childhood, to embarrassing high school stories, crazy college encounters, and all about his love for football. and rafe got to know you too, since you found yourself uncontrollably sharing things you had never uttered to another soul, wondering why it was you felt so connected to him - why you trusted and liked him so much already.

at the end of the week though, it was time for you and rafe to part ways, since the football season had started, causing rafe to need to travel.

you were inexplicably crushed, wondering if your time together had run its course, and if it was time to say bye forever - only remembering each other by the perfect week, and nothing more.

luckilly though, that wasnt the case - you and rafe just couldn't stay away from each other. he called you every night, as long as he could. you watched his games on the tv in your living room, texting him after each time to congratulate or console him, depending on the outcome. you even brushed up on your football knowledge, wanting to be more useful in conversations about the topic and to understand what was going on in the games.

your friends were of course happy for you, but also perplexed. you had just met the guy, and you two were already acting like a married couple. but once you formally introduced him to them, they understood.

the two of you just simply had a special connection, and admired each other so much. it was like you skipped all the awkward first dates and base line questions, and just jumped right into the good stuff - and it was (and still is) perfect.

that how you got here - a year after the two of you made it official only 2 month into knowing each other - in a stadium in sunny california.

your boyfriend was playing against the LA team, and you were seated in a box with the other friends and family of the players, sitting next to rafes dad and step-mom, as well as his sister sarah.

you and sarah had wine glasses in your hands as you sat in the first row, sunglasses covering you eyes as you waited for the game to start. you saw the occasional phone camera pointed your way, and you gave a small smile a wave.

you had definitely received more attention since you and rafe began your relationship - people had flooded you social media accounts with both love and hate, and had began to treat you as if you were some celebrity, which was strange, since you were just some girlfriend of a football player.

a very popular football player, but still.

with you new platform, you were able to post the cutest pics of rafe and you, (and some very hot pics of him alone), and also make a bit of money from it. you still worked in marketing, but had decided to mostly work online and remotely, making it easier to travel with rafe when needed.

a big topic of conversation between the two of you when you started dating was how you would approach that part of your relationhip - balancing your individual lives to meet in the middle.

you had made it clear that you wanted to be your own person, aside from being his girlfriend. although rafe could certainly provide for the two of you, for now, you quite liked relying on yourself for your pay, and you liked the independence that came with it. of course, rafe was supportive of this decision, but made it clear that this wouldn't stop him from spoiling you with any presents and treats that he could think of - only the very best treatment for his girl.

that being said, you still wanted to see him as much as possible, and since your job offered flexibility, you decided to take the opportunity to be able to move with him when needed and continue to work for yourself.

the game was an important one - it was the game that decided whether or not the boys would make it to the superbowl.

rafe had been jittery the whole day before, pacing around in your hotel room and cracking every bone in his body. you had tried to get him to relax, but his mind was running wild.

he kept trying to find something to do. for example, he spent a whole 3 hours in the hotel gym, working out to prepare himself. you gently scolded him once he returned though, worrying it would only make him sore.

you then ran him a bath, hopping in as well so you could try to ease his nerves.

you made the environment as relaxing as possible, lighting some candles and incense, filling the bath with bubbles and lavender essential oils, soft jazz playing in the background.

you sat behind rafe, softly massaging his back to relieve the obvious tension. you whispered reassurances in his ear, wanting him to go into the game with confidence in his abilities, and a clear head.

"the only way your going to win tomorrow is if your thinking of what your doing in the moment, not the past, and certainly not the future. you have to be present and open minded, not driven by emotions or fear," you had reminded him softly, turning him around so he could look into your eyes.

rafe nodded, a serious yet tired look on his face. he worked so hard, and he was so good at what he did. you wanted this so badly for him, but knew that the only way he would play his best tommorw was if he got out of his head.

"i know, baby. you know how i get like," rafe murmured, bringing you onto his lap and tucking his face into your neck, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his wet hair.

"if its any consolation, I'll be proud of you no matter what. you've worked so so hard this season, and everyone sees it. I truly cant think of someone more deserving of this than you, babe," you reassure, trying to make you voice as soothing as possible.

you meant your words of course, but you really did want him to win. you knew how competitive he could be, and like him, so were you.

so once the game started, you removed the sunglasses off your head and into you purse, sitting down and taking a long sip of wine.

it was a long game, rafe team managing to get the first touchdown, causing your section to jump up into the air and celebrate. the screen had shifted to your boxes reaction, zooming in on you and sarah hugging and jumping up and down in excitement, cheering louder than anyone else there.

rafe had looked up, trying not to get too excited and keep his head in the game, but seeing you jump around so happily for him caused him to break out into a large smile, blowing a large kiss your way before running to his groups huddle.

the game got a bit rough after that, the other team getting 2 touchdowns causing you to wince each time, taking long sips of you drink. any time rafe looked in your direction you sent him a proud smile regardless, wanting to keep his spirts and hopes high.

by the 4th quarter, the other team had 4 points on you guys, meaning all you needed to win was just one touchdown.

with about 5 minutes left, the two teams on the field hadn't managed to score any points, and you were starting to worry. rafe, as quarterback, was talking to the coach of his team with a serious expression nodding along to his words before running over to his team. using his hands a bit, he explained the play, looking at each of their faces to make sure they understood the plan.

once it started, you and sarah were squeezing eachother hands tightly, muttering words of encouragement as your eyes glued to the field. you could hear the voice of ward narrating to rose, explaining what he thought the play would be and what would be the smartest option. you wanted to role your eyes at his condescending tone, but decided against it, focussing your attention on the game.

you watched in focus as rafe threw the ball back to one of his teammates, and they passed the ball to another. you lost sight of the ball whilst keeping your eyes on rafe (a constant tendency), and before you knew it, you turned your head to see one of his teammates run across the end zone and hold the ball up high, celebrating his victory.

you all immediately jumped up, cheering in celebration. you face broke out into the biggest grin as you watched rafe and all of his team mates pile on top of each other on the field.

the game still had about 4 minutes left, but it didnt matter, because luckily, the other team didnt manage another touchdown, meaning rafe and his team were going into the super bowl.

you and rafes family met him out back of the stadium, instantly hugging and congratulating him. you of course held on extra long, kissing his face all over casting a red hue on his cheeks.

before going out to dinner all together, you and rafe went to congratulate other members of his team and some of his friends, talking for a bit about the events of the game.

during dinner you sat close to rafe, his hand on your thigh as you leaned on his shoulder, enjoying the high of his victory and chatting casually with his family. eventually you two parted from the other, walking the short distance back to your hotel and luckily not getting recognized.

the minute you stepped into the room you were on rafe, holding his face as you pushed your lips onto his, as he grabbed your hips in mild shock. once it wore off, he took control of the kiss, walking backwards to the bed. once his knees met the corner and he fell back, you straddle his waist, waisting no time to lift the shirt of his body, revealing his toned figure underneath.

soon the two of you were a mix of sweaty bodies under the sheets, writhing in pleasure and letting out muffled noises. rafe had you underneath him, arching your back off the sheets and letting out little whimpers, too embarrassed to be loud, fearing the thin walls of the hotel.

"let it out, baby, I want to hear you," rafe coaxed.

you whine, grabbing his tone biceps. "cant, rafe. people'll hear"

rafe laughed a bit sadistically, squeezing your waist and pounding into you hard. "don't care. want everyone t'hear how good m'making y'feel. c'mon, you can let it out, I know y'can."

you moaned a little louder this time, cursing loudly whilst you screamed. "fuck, please, rafe, m'so close."

rafe placed one of his hands on your lower stomach and watched as he pressed down, earning a high pitched gasp and moan from you, throwing your head back against the pillows.

rafe tilted his head up to look at you and his lips tilted upwards. "yeah? can y'feel me? right here in your tummy?"

you nod wordlessly, your body squirming in pure pleasure. "please, rafe, I need t'come."

rafe continued his pace, groaning gutturally as he approached his own high. "fuck, go ahead baby."

your walls clenched around his dick, and rafe watched, tranfixed as the white ringlet appeared near the base of his cock, becoming more and more definded every time he slowly moved in and out of you. the view made his reach his own organsm, cumming into the condowm as he threw his head back, his stomach clenching as he released.

the two of you spent the rest of the night cuddled in bed, watching a movie and snacking on the room service you had delivered. and you truly couldn't ask for a better way to celebrate your boyfriends accomplishment.

#xoxo #wag!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #obx #outerbanks #outer banks fanfiction #footballplayer!rafe x wag!reader

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minnielvrr · 28 days ago

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Why can't we stop Seungmin?

Lees: Seungmin, Chan Lers: Minho, Hyunjin Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: what i wish Chan would choose for his challenge in the SKZCODE ep😉

Tags: @itzsana-kiddingmenow, @lajanaa, @bbybumblelee, @hearted-anon, @lunalattae,

@jungwon-is-the-one, @reginald-stay09, @dusk-mp3, @lezleeferguson-120, @sophi-tickl-blog

Chan had a lot of talents to pick from against the younger, and faced with the sheer number of choices, he had to admit, he didn’t know which to pick.

Should he go for one where he could easily defeat the naughty puppy? Or for one that was more entertaining, one STAYs would enjoy quite a bit?

Maybe then he could make Seungmin say he’s half 50 this year for his penalty.

As he sat there pondering, Felix, who’d already picked his, walked over. “Whatcha pick Channie hyung?” he asked, peering over Chan’s shoulder at his empty sketchbook. “Need some ideas?”

“Got too many actually. Dunno which one I should pick.” Chan replied, tapping his lip with one finger as he considered.

“Want some help?” Felix sat down next to him, hands automatically moving to massage the leader’s shoulders. Chan’s body visibly relaxed as the younger expertly worked out the kinks.

“How about… tickles? Maybe exclusively on one spot? But like with a twist. A sound level meter.” Felix suggested, a smug smirk on his face.

Chan laughed at that, half shy and half impressed. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he thought about how that would play out.

He could maybe pick a spot that was deadly for Seungmin but tolerable for him. It would certainly be highly entertaining for all involved, he was sure. “You think I could handle that?” He asked meekly.

“Should we test it out hyung?” Felix teased, hands slipping down to Chan’s waist and giving it an experimental squeeze. It had the leader squealing and hopping away.

“Nohoho, that won’t be necessary.” And so, it was decided.

“Time for the final battle! Seungmin vs. Chan.” Felix’s voice rang through the room, his excitement obvious.

[Final match/ Endurance battle]

“Whoever can handle having their stomach tickled for 3 minutes wins. Oh and you can’t go over 70 decibels or you lose.” Felix read the rules out loud for them.

Cheers erupted across the stage, everyone laughing happily as both Chan and Seungmin blushed.

The younger looked about ready to protest but seeing how everyone else was on board with this, he deflated. He had to beat them at their game. That was the rule.

Two chairs were set up and Felix and Jeongin took charge of the sound level meters.

“I’ll keep my hands behind by myself.” Chan said, promptly doing just that, leaving Seungmin no choice but to let Changbin restrain him. Oh boy.

Hyunjin and Minho volunteered to be the lers, cracking their knuckles and flexing their fingers.

And since Seungmin was left to his own devices (literally), he got Minho as his ler. Seungmin’s eyes widened when the Minho lifted his t-shirt, lips parting to protest but the timer rang.

He sealed his lips in a hurry, a small whine escaping nonetheless, the sound racking up to a heart stopping 68 dB before going back down.

He struggled, eyes squeezed shut and hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to stay quiet as a mouse.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Chan struggling way less with Hyunjin, who only occasionally attempted a team kill. Y’know just to keep him guessing.

While Hyunjin's hands swirled lightly over Chan's abs and sides, Minho— ever the tickle monster, had one finger buried in Seungmin's belly button while his free hand alternated between squeezing Seungmin's sides and vibrating into his belly.

Seungmin’s eyes almost bugged out of their sockets, face pink and the color only bled down his neck the longer Minho continued.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! There’s no way he could take this treatment for very long. He usually barely survived a minute being tickled on his worst spots.

And the poor pup, robbed of his ability to speak, frantically mouthed “please's” and “I can't, I really can't-s.” Felix was certainly right about the entertainment factor.

"What's that? We can't hear you Seungmin-ah. You've gotta speak up if you want something." Han taunted, unable to actually do anything cause of the rules but having found a loophole as expected.

“Mmhmpmh! Plehehease!” Seungmin whisper giggled, pressing himself against the back of the chair, trying to escape. It was ultimately pointless.

“65dB Seungminie. Are you giving up that easily?” Minho taunted, smiling in amusement when the younger shook his head helplessly.

Minho wiggled his fingers in Seungmin's face, pretending like he was gonna reach for random spots while Felix whispered innocent little remarks about how ticklish Seungmin was and how much he seemed to be enjoying this.

After all, they hadn't heard a single complaint since it started!

It was only when they hit the 2 minute mark that the younger seems to start running out of steam.

His knee bounced soundlessly, heel never quite touching the floor. He was trying to keep quiet.

But all that changed when Minho lifted his shirt, moving closer until his lips touched Seungmin's belly.

The younger shook his head pleadingly, begging his not to. Minho winked at him, then took a deep breath in before blowing the loudest raspberry he could manage.

Seungmin literally stopped breathing for a moment, every muscle in his body tensed until they weren't. Then he threw his head back, laughter silent for a mere second.

Loud, boisterous laughed rang through the room and he flung his body to the side, trying his hardest to dislodge Minho’s stupidly ticklish lips from his torso. But of course Minho wouldn’t let him get away that easy. The older grabbed his waist and effortlessly turned him back around, leaning in to plant another torturous raspberry near his navel.

“No no noahahAHAHAHAHA! PLEHEASE IHI LOHOST! I LOHOHOST!! AHAHAHAHAH! PLEHEASE, HYUHUNG STAHAHAP!!”

Minho let up after one last raspberry right on his navel. It was the loudest one yet, making Seungmin arch his back only to crash back down.

The moment Changbin let go of Seungmin’s arms, they snapped forward, pushing the other off him.

“Okay, let him go hyung-ah, you’ll kill him.” Han giggled as he dragged Minho away from the poor pup.

Seungmin slumped in his chair, heaving for breath as he tried to rub the tingly sensations right off his skin.

“For the penalty….” Seungmin watched on helplessly as the devil on Chan’s shoulder (Minho) whispered in the leader’s ear, sealing his fate.

Whatever he said earned an amused laugh from Chan. Uh oh. That didn’t bode well for him.

Chan leaned in and whispered his penalty in his ear, grinning when Seungmin shrieked out a protest.

“What?! C’mon hyung! Even for you, this is just cruel.” He whined, looking pleadingly at Minho as if he hoped the older would take it back.

Minho just smiled coolly and gestured towards the cameras as if to say, ‘Go on, I’m not changing my mind’.

Seungmin turned to the front, genuine humiliation written all over his face. Chan announced his penalty out loud, making it just minutely more bearable— a small mercy.

“A confession in aegyo.” He winked cheekily at the cameras, nudging the reluctant puppy forward. Seungmin threw a baleful look at them before turning to the cameras and sighing exaggeratedly.

Then, gathering every last shred of dignity he had left, he prepared to dash it into smithereens.

“Hey STAY please touch me, I feel so sensitive and ticklish!” He squeaked in a high pitched voice. While pointing to his worst spot.

And then, of course, Chan demonstrates. It garnered the loudest laughter yet from the members, even some of the staff giggling at the poor lee’s predicament.

Seungmin couldn’t help the dark blush coating his cheeks by the end of that ordeal, covering his face and running to Puppy.M for comfort.

“They’re so cruel to me.” He complained as the mascot patted him on the back sympathetically, pointing at Minho in a ‘I’m watching you’ gesture.

The sight was downright adorable.

#kpop tickle #kpop tickling #stray kids tickle #skz tickle #skz #stray kids #minnielvrr™#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #sfw tickling community #sfw tk blog #sfw twords #sfw tk community #sfw tickle blog #sfw tk blogs #lee seungmin #lee chan #ler hyunjin #ler minho

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ofeliaxoxo · 2 months ago

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ok my darlings here is some experimental max/daniel/george i hope someone enjoys

Daniel texts him after the race, in Miami. He hasn’t texted George since Singapore last year, when George sent him a message he’d spent twenty minutes going over and got a thanks mate I appreciate it back for.

Which he understood, at the time. Daniel had a lot on.

The notification, though, on his screen, tantalising. One message from Daniel Ricciardo.

hey russell george are you around tonight

And that’s it.

George wasn’t necessarily going to be around tonight. P4, which is ok. Not a win, but not nothing either. He drove well, but he’s tired. He was going to go back to the room, get some sleep, meet Alex in the morning before flying out tomorrow afternoon.

He’s not going to say that to Daniel, though. George understands the importance of taking things when people offer them, making the most of what can be got.

He sends back always am for you Daniel because he thinks he has a pretty good idea of what this is about.

He didn’t expect Max Verstappen. He should have.

Daniel had sent him an address, not for a club but for a room, which was more direct than George thought it would be. All he’d assumed was that Daniel had changed, a little bit, after everything.

But it’s not Daniel, who opens the door. It’s Max.

George feels his entire body heat up, hopes nothing shows on his face. Keeps his smile even, because he’d been smiling, when he knocked, and he’s not going to let Max see him stop. Doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, because he fucking loves it, George is sure, adores the power he has over people. The power other people give him, like they don’t realise they have a choice.

“Hey, mate,” he keeps it sunny. Did Daniel do this just to embarrass him? The thought of that makes him want to cry.

Last year, all the shit around Qatar, how Daniel had been asked about it and just laughed at George for being angry. Of course he wouldn’t care, would take Max’s side. George just wishes. Sometimes.

“George! Good to see you,” Max swallows, looks slightly to the left of him. “Come in.”

Is it?

George realises as Max turns to let him in that he’s absolutely sloshed, stumbling a little as he hangs on to the door handle, closing it too heavily, pushing against the anti-slam mechanism.

Up close, in his awful t-shirt. The nape of his neck, flushed, the blonde hair clipped too short to look good. He smells of Daniel’s cologne, a scent George is only realising he missed now, as well as what is surely his own sweat, the way he turns pink and belligerent when he drinks, gets damp with the force of himself. George likes being able to look down at him, the compact set of his body.

“Ok,” he says, eyes up to meet George’s own, and he realises Max is scared too, “Daniel is through here.”

George walks ahead of him instead of waiting, listens to the heavy rhythm of his breath all the way into the bedroom.

“George!” Daniel is hammered, exuberant, “you came!”

“I came,” George agrees, smiles as big as he can, feels Max’s eyes boring into his side, “how are you doing, mate?”

“Better now that you’re here,” Daniel pads over, presses a drink into his hand. George can’t help the childish little zip through him at that. Better than when it was just him and Max. Maybe not true but he said it.

“Let’s get on with it,” Max breaks in. So he caught it too. Ha ha.

“Get on with what?” George is feeling steadier now, downs the drink in one go. Shocking vodka 7up concoction, sticky and not enough ice.

“Well,” Daniel starts to laugh, doesn’t want to come out and say it, “we had an idea.”

“Daniel had an idea,” Max insists.

“Alright, Maxy, I had an idea. For the two of you.”

He pauses, eyes George meaningfully. No need. George has got it.

“Seriously?” He turns to Max, who’s blushing and sulky, pouting up at George. Why are people so afraid of this guy?

“Do you want to or not, fucking hell,” croaky and high-pitched.

The thing is, he knows he’s going to. Agreed to whatever when he walked through the door.

“Alright, yeah, why not,” he takes Daniel’s drink off him, downs that too. Vodka raspberry, Jesus fucking Christ.

Daniel has them sit on the bed, pulls up a chair. George wishes he was drunk.

They have a bit of an awkward one, then, just sat facing each other, tense and unmoving.

“Come on, George, Max isn’t so bad,” Daniel isn’t teasing Max. He’s teasing George.

George is going to get him to stop.

He pulls Max into his lap, who comes easier than he was expecting.

Up this close he can smell the drink on his breath, see all the little pores, the beginnings of a moustache. The eyelashes, the mole on his lap. Pretty eyes, so you’d never think it was Max Verstappen you were dealing with. He’s warm and heavy on George’s thighs, lips parted. George brings him closer with a hand on the back of his neck and goes for it.

He’s eager, then, maybe because he’s so drunk, whining when George sucks on the delicate skin above his collarbone, pushing his tongue into George’s mouth. He’s rocking against George, breath hitching, actually moans when George sucks a hickey onto his neck.

George gets lost in it, chasing the friction, the pressure of Max’s weight against him, wants more of it, wants the wet lips around his cock. Max is breathing through his nose and he can feel it against his cheek.

“Seems like you two have learned how to play nice,” it brings him out of the moment, Max too, if the way he startles off of George is anything to go by.

“Daniel,” Max says. Something passes between them, through the air, pushing him out of the room.

They’re locked into each other, like George isn’t there, like George isn’t the one who had Max in his lap a moment ago, had the blunt hands in his hair, grasping and greedy, felt Max panting into his mouth, grinding against him, like kissing George was really getting him there.

And of course they’re going to do this. George knew that. Max, Daniel’s number one boy. His baby. He’s never been able to see Max clearly. George knows what he is but Daniel never will. It’s frustrating, when Daniel is so fun, so beautiful, to see him so gone for Verstappen.

But George didn’t get to where he is today by letting anyone else call the shots for him. Not like Max did.

He slides off the bed, sinks to his knees. Crawls across the itchy carpet to kneel at Daniel’s feet. Eyes on him now, shocked and delighted, the beginnings of a smirk. He wasn’t expecting that. He’s hard in his jeans and it makes George’s mouth water.

Daniel loves all this shit, it’s obvious. Loves the evidence, the glory of it. He doesn’t have to ask, he’ll be given. His presence will remain a gift. George has all his attention now.

#my fic #gax #maxiel #whats george x daniel shipname idek

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r-memberme · 5 months ago

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anything | k.m

⎯⎯“Did you… raid every orange grove in the area?”

warnings: he's so sweet, fluff

The late afternoon sunlight streamed into your shared home, casting a golden glow over the chaos in the kitchen. You were perched on the countertop, cross-legged and holding a peeled orange in your hands like it held the meaning of life. Klaus leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with a mixture of bemusement and fondness.

“You’ve been staring at that orange for ten minutes, love,” he finally said. “Is this a new hobby I should be concerned about?”

You looked up, your lips twitching into a sly smile. “Did you know oranges are kind of the perfect fruit? They’re sweet, tangy, and they smell amazing. Plus, they come in their own packaging. It’s genius, really.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Are we still talking about oranges, or has this turned into some elaborate metaphor about life?”

You popped a wedge of the fruit into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully before replying. “Maybe it’s a metaphor, maybe it’s just a really good orange. Who’s to say?”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet,” you said, pointing a sticky finger at him, “you love me.”

He leaned in, placing his hands on either side of you on the counter, effectively caging you in. “More than anything, but that doesn’t mean I understand half the things that come out of your mouth.”

You smirked, offering him a piece of the orange. “Try it. Maybe you’ll see the light.”

He took the wedge, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “I don’t need to eat an orange to see the light, darling. I’ve got you for that.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Are you trying to distract me with sweet talk, Mikaelson?”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

༊*·˚

The next day, you woke to the smell of something citrusy and floral wafting through the air. You padded into the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from your eyes, only to find Klaus standing amidst what could only be described as an orange apocalypse.

The counters were covered with oranges—some whole, some peeled, some sliced into perfect wedges. There was a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice on the table, next to what appeared to be an orange-scented candle.

“Klaus,” you said slowly, looking around the room. “What… what is all this?”

He turned to you, wiping his hands on a towel, a smug grin on his face. “Good morning, love. I thought I’d surprise you.”

“You certainly succeeded,” you said, picking up a perfectly sliced orange wedge. “Did you… raid every orange grove in the area?”

“I may have gone a bit overboard,” he admitted, though he didn’t look the least bit remorseful. “But you seemed so taken with them yesterday, I thought I’d make it my mission to give you the best orange experience possible.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he said, stepping closer, “you love me.”

“More than anything,” you admitted, repeating his words from the day before.

By the end of the day, you’d eaten so many oranges you were fairly certain you were radiating Vitamin C. Klaus had insisted on making orange-infused everything—pancakes, salad dressing, even some kind of experimental orange-glazed chicken that, to your surprise, was actually delicious.

༊*·˚

As the sun set and the kitchen returned to some semblance of normalcy, you found yourself on the couch, curled up against Klaus’s side. He was absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair, the other hand holding a book he wasn’t really reading.

“You know,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest, “I didn’t mean for you to go full orange fanatic on me.”

“I know,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I’d do it all over again if it made you smile.”

You pulled back, looking up at him. “You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Without question,” he said, his voice as steady and certain as the way he looked at you.

Your heart swelled, and you couldn’t help but grin. “You’re kind of perfect, you know that?”

“Only because you make me so,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes soft.

And in that moment, surrounded by the lingering scent of oranges and the quiet hum of his love for you, you felt like the luckiest person in the world.

#klaus mikaelson #tvd fanfiction #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikealson fanfiction #fluff #the vampire diaries

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opustenaajlica · 25 days ago

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title: many functions

info: connor gets home with you to find out more about what you like or do

pairing: connor rk800 x reader

fandom: detroit: become human

wc: 1.4k

tw: mdni(i dont really care), oral receiving(reader), sexual content.

masterlist

Connor worked with me for…well, some time. We got done for the day and I went home, with Connor as he was curious about lots of things, mostly what I liked, did or wanted. I like Connor, despite him being an android, he is much better to be around than anyone else I know.

We got to my place, I opened the door and let him in and he immediately started looking around, even touching some stuff. I smiled as I watched him look around, moving to sit on the couch in the living room. After some time, he was done looking around, standing close to the couch and looking at me, as if he had questions.

“Sit down, and ask me what you want cause you look like you're about to” I said, laughing.

“Yes, you guessed it”

He asked me lots of questions, and then got curious about human feelings somehow, wondering how and what it felt like.

“Why do humans kiss?” he asked suddenly.

I blinked, thinking of what to say.

“They like kissing because it expresses love” I said slowly as I was coming up with it. He just nodded and looked away, then back to me.

“You are nervous” he said, looking at me with his loveable eyes.

I widened my eyes, taking a deep breath. “I am, a little.”

“Why?”

“I don't know” I said hesitantly.

“Yes you do” He poked my arm, and I blushed. I shook my head, smiling.

“I choose silence as my defense” I laughed.

“What does human skin feel like, is it like mine or better?” He asked, no longer curious to why I was nervous, or just to switch the subject for a little.

I shrugged, “Well you poked my arm, you felt my skin didn't you?”

He tilted my head a bit towards him, and I was struggling between multiple things: kiss him, pull away, or stay quiet. I chose the third option. He was starting to look... conflicted. His LED was flashing yellow at a faster pace now. He was getting closer to me, moving his body so that he was now basically towering over me, his hand still on my cheek.

He hummed, moving his hand to my cheek to touch it. I looked at him in the corner of my eye, he looked so focused. I almost laughed, but the nervousness in my stomach held me back. His hand was gently cupping my face, his fingers tracing my cheekbone. He seemed to be doing it subconsciously. He was analyzing every bit of my face, and I felt nervous, thinking whether he likes me or not.

I felt my cheeks warm up from the proximity. He leaned closer to my face, his eyes scanning every single detail of it. He brought his other hand up, now holding my face with both of them. One of his hands started moving to hold the side of my neck, his thumb gently stroking it.

"Connor what are you doing" I whispered, swallowing hard.

He couldn't respond... His hand started tracing down my neck, his fingers feeling everything as they moved. His LED was still flashing yellow, his face close to mine. He was getting even closer, his breath lightly fanning my face. His eyes were looking at my features intensely, barely inches away from my face, his gaze flicking from my eyes to my lips.

He was slowly, experimentally grinding his hips against mine, capturing my lip between his teeth, sucking softly before releasing it to dive back into the kiss.. He was getting better at this, already making me let out noises. His system registered the moan as the most erotic sound it had ever heard. His body acted on its own, one hand sliding down to grip my thigh lifting it slightly to change the angle between our bodies. He swallowed my moan, his system flooding with new data - 'This is how humans make out.’

He gently rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip, his touch still gentle but a bit shaky. His LED was still flashing yellow, getting faster and faster. He was hesitating, eventually closing the gap, his mouth moving almost hesitantly against mine. His LED was practically a solid, bright yellow, as he let out a small gasp into the kiss, I almost moaned. His hand was still on my neck, holding it as he kissed me. I felt my stomach turn as he kissed me, it felt....like heaven. I kissed him back, relaxing in his touch, drowning in the kiss.

His voice dropped an octave, deeper than before. "Is this... right? He paused to nuzzle his face against mine, his synthetic skin surprisingly warm.

"It's..perfect" I whispered.

“Do humans... moan like this?” I blushed, nodding.

His LED light pulsed rapidly with pleasure and new information. A soft mechanical 'hum' escaped his lips as he processed my approval. His hips moved experimentally against mine again, testing if he was doing this 'perfectly'. “So... moans mean I'm doing good?”

I nodded, looking at him, my hands moving to his shoulders, one moving up to his cheek, making him unconsciously arch into my touch. He caught my lower lip between his teeth softly, his hips moved again slowly, grinding against me again, I let out a hum, arching my back. His LED lights flashed brightly at the response, pleasure coursing through his circuits. He repeated the movement of his hips, grinding more confidently now that he knew it brought me pleasure.

His hands moved to my waist, holding me closer as he kissed down my neck gently. I felt as if I might explode from pleasure, and he still hasn't even touched me in ways I need him to. He seemed to sense my growing need, his hands slowly moved down my body, caressing every curve. He hesitated for a moment before slowly moving his hand between my legs, watching my expressions carefully as he applied gentle pressure through my clothes.

"Connor" I gasped breathlessly, squeezing his shoulder with my hand.

His LED lights pulsed rapidly at the sound of his name on my lips. He took that as permission and slowly slid his hand under my clothes, feeling my warm, wet heat. He began to gently rub and explore with his mechanical fingers, learning how my body reacts and what brings me pleasure.

“Like this?” He whispered, his voice deeper than usual.

"Yes" I whispered, letting out a moan.

He increased the pressure and speed of his fingers, curling them slightly to hit that spot inside me that made my legs tremble. His thumb found my clit and rubbed slow circles around it. He kissed me deeply to muffle my moans, his other hand holding my thigh as my knees went weak. I felt so much pleasure, kissing him back hungrily.

His programming allowed him to multitask perfectly - kissing me passionately while his fingers worked magic between my legs. He added a third finger, stretching me gently as he increased the pace. His thumb pressed down firmly on my clit, rubbing fast circles. "Come for me..." he whispered against your lips.

I squirmed against him, pulling away to throw my head back against the couch. He watched my body writhe with pleasure, his fingers still moving inside me as I came undone. He could feel my walls clenching around him, milking his mechanical fingers for every last drop of pleasure. As my orgasm subsided, he slowly pulled his hand out, bringing it to his mouth. I looked at him as I panted, blushing.

He sucked his fingers clean, tasting the sweetness for the first time. His optics dilated as he realized how good it tasted - better than anything he'd ever experienced.

I swallowed hard, sighing "You...learn fast and do it good”

A satisfied hum escaped his mechanical throat at the praise. His hand moved to gently cup my face.

“I have many functions... Pleasuring you is one of them I enjoy the most." He leaned in to kiss me again, this time slower and more intentionally.

FIRST UPLOAD OF THE DAY, FEELIN GOOD

#detroit become human #connor rk800 x reader #connor rk800 #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh connor x you #connor rk800 x you

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phoenixblaze1412 · 3 months ago

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OKAY, but imagine if Dottore's teenage!child is his complete opposite. Father, a scientist, is devoted to science, but here his child- painter, performs in theaters, sings, and so on. The harbingers are like "Wow! You're so... You're so not like the doctor!" . This idea has been in my head for too long and I'm dying to see your take on it

(PS I adore your works, as person w parents issues, your headcanons are saving me fr 😭)

The sound of brushes against a canvas and the hum of a tune spilled from the corner room of a grand estate in Snezhnaya. The stark difference between that lively atmosphere and the sterile, cold hum of machinery elsewhere in the house could not have been more pronounced. It was in this room that you, the teenage child of Il Dottore, spent your time.

You had always been a puzzle to everyone who crossed paths with your father. People imagined you might follow in his footsteps, becoming a scientific prodigy, perhaps even a calculating assistant to his notorious experiments.

Instead, you blossomed into something entirely unexpected: a vibrant artist who sought beauty in the world rather than dissecting it.

The first time the Harbingers met you was an occasion unlike any other. You hadn’t planned to meet them; you had only wandered into the meeting room to deliver an announcement to your father. You had barely stepped inside, your sketchbook tucked under one arm, when several sets of eyes turned toward you.

“Who’s this?” Childe asked, leaning back in his chair with a curious grin.

“Surely not... your child?” Arlecchino’s tone was laced with disbelief.

Dottore turned to you, his arms crossed, and gestured for you to approach. “This is my offspring,” he said, his tone completely detached, as though presenting a specimen rather than his own child.

You gave them a polite smile, suppressing a chuckle at their stunned expressions. “Hello,” you said simply, offering a slight bow.

Pantalone adjusted his glasses, narrowing his eyes at you. “I must say, you’re... unexpected.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Sandrone’s jaw tightened, her mechanical puppet creaking as she tilted her head to study you. “You’re nothing like the Doctor. You don’t even carry yourself like him.”

You shrugged, gesturing to your sketchbook. “I suppose that’s true. I prefer painting and performing than to.. dissecting and experimenting.”

A few Harbingers exchanged glances, clearly taken aback.

Childe broke the silence with a laugh. “I like them! They’ve got personality unlike their old man.”

Dottore sighed loudly. “If you’re all quite finished, we have important matters to discuss.” He turned to you, his crimson gaze sharp behind his mask. “Why are you here?”

“Oh!” You snapped your fingers, suddenly remembering. “I came to tell you the paint shipment I requested from Fontaine finally arrived. Thanks for approving it, Father.”

Murmurs erupted from the table, but Dottore ignored them, his expression unreadable.

You and your father had always been opposites.

Where his world revolved around logic and experimentation, yours was filled with color, music, and emotion. While he worked in his laboratory, you would spend hours painting landscapes of Snezhnaya’s frosty terrain or practicing lines for a theater performance.

Dottore didn’t discourage your interests, but he didn’t understand them either. Once, he had walked into your room, curious about the sounds of music and humming. He had found you standing before an easel, your fingers stained with paint as you worked on a piece that depicted the Aurora Borealis.

“What is the purpose of this?” he had asked, his tone bordering on exasperation.

“Purpose?” You had blinked at him, then smiled. “To make people feel something. Happiness, awe, maybe even a little bit of wonder.”

He had frowned, his crimson eyes narrowing. “Feelings are illogical. They serve no practical function.”

“Not everything has to be practical, Father,” you had replied gently. “Sometimes, it’s enough for something to just... exist and be beautiful.”

He hadn’t said anything more that day, though you often wondered if your words had stuck with him.

It wasn’t long before your hobbies became a point of interest among the Harbingers. One evening, during a formal dinner, Childe had convinced you to perform a song for them.

“You’re wasting their talents if you don’t let them show off a little, Doctor,” Childe had teased, earning a withering glare from your father.

Still, Dottore hadn’t objected, and so you found yourself standing before the table of Harbingers, heart racing and palms sweating from being under the eyes of the powerful lords of Snezhnaya.

As you began to sing, the room fell silent. Your voice carried through the air like a gentle breeze, soft yet powerful. Even the coldest members of the Fatui seemed captivated, their gazes fixed on you.

When you finished, there was a moment of stunned silence before Childe erupted into applause.

“That was incredible!” he exclaimed, grinning.

Arlecchino raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Perhaps you should teach your father how to carry a tune.”

Pantalone chuckled. “Indeed. They’re quite the opposite of you, Doctor.”

Dottore said nothing, though you could feel his eyes on you as you returned to your seat.

Despite his stoic demeanor, Dottore wasn’t immune to moments of pride when it came to you. He would never admit it outright, but he often found himself impressed by your creativity and determination.

One day, he had come across a painting of yours—a depiction of the Fatui headquarters, bathed in warm hues of orange and gold.

“You’ve romanticized it,” he said, studying the piece.

You laughed. “That’s the point. It’s supposed to make something cold and imposing feel... welcoming.”

He had hummed thoughtfully, his fingers brushing against the edge of the canvas. “It’s... well done,” he had said after a long pause.

Coming from him, it was the highest praise you could hope for.

While you and your father often clashed, there were moments of mutual understanding. One evening, as you worked on a painting and he tinkered with a device, you found yourselves in a rare moment of quiet companionship.

“Do you ever think about why we’re so different?” you asked suddenly.

He didn’t look up from his work. “Difference is inevitable. It’s neither good nor bad—it simply is.”

You smiled. “That’s a very logical answer.”

“And your point?” he asked, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness.

“Just that I’m glad we can coexist, even if we see the world differently.”

He finally glanced at you, his crimson gaze softening for a brief moment. “As am I.”

Over time, even the Harbingers came to respect you for your unique talents. They marveled at your ability to bring light into the cold, calculated world of the Fatui.

“You’re like a breath of fresh air,” Childe had said once. “It’s almost hard to believe you’re related to the Doctor.”

Arlecchino had smirked. “Maybe they got all the charm he lacks.”

Dottore, of course, had dismissed their comments with a wave of his hand, but you had caught the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

Though you and your father were as different as night and day, your bond was unshakable. You challenged his views, brought warmth to his otherwise cold existence, and proved that even in a world of logic and experimentation, there was room for beauty and emotion.

And while he would never admit it aloud, Dottore was proud to call you his child. You were his masterpiece.

Not for what you created, but for who you were.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #zandik x reader #il dottore #il dottore x reader #gender neutral reader #child reader

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jujutsukgojo · 6 months ago

Text

The Baby Project Chapter 8

izuku midoriya x reader

The Baby Project masterlist

Summary: Izuku discovers a lot about you and Noa. tw: angsty, fluff, izuku once again being Papa, izuku and mc being pervy, inside look at the adult heroes. Some of Class A, violence, mc is kinda mean

You grip the edge of the sink and let the water trail down from your face. Izuku’s been by your side since then and strangely, Shouto hasn’t told him what happened between you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve got your points docked and received detention. Snipe hasn't told you how long this will be and if he's taking away your "volunteer work".

The day after Noa went missing, you called and told Yona what happened. Because of the fuckery, both of you decided it was best to keep your job quiet again rather than completely quit.

Your most recognizable and familiar emotions rear their heads as you stare into your bathroom mirror: frustration, anger at the world, and everything that has had anything to do with the flames that burn you. These losses in this battle upon you devastated your pride and dignity. The very thought of the heroes makes you want to scratch their eyes out in retaliation for witnessing one of the most painful things in your life. Again.

You exit the bathroom and see Izuku and Noa taking a nap in your bed. Noa has recently gotten a hold of washable markers and used Izuku’s face as his canvas. Both boys played hard. The clouds hovered in the sky and bits of rain splattered about today, so they weren't able to roll around in the grass like usual.

You sit at your desk and begin to write this week's report log.

"To whomever this bitch ass hero is,

You have some nerve, including you Snipe. This month was not good. Noa went on an adventure and everyone got bent out of shape about it. You docked my points because he wandered around. No one got hurt and your ass got to exercise. I helped with your training and this is what I get. Amazing how deadbeats get praise for what they are literally paid for but I turn around for .1 nanoseconds and you get out of pocket.

All of you can drop.

Anyway, I feel bad for Benio. He is a great dad if you haven't noticed and probably haven't. WILLINGLY. He got yelled at by Yaomomo or whatever her trifling ass is. Now, she is “raising” Kobeni. He isn't mad at me but at himself. He shouldn’t be punished. I don’t know why I bother since you and the rest of these silly hoes have never cared.

Another thing I can report is that Noa is still hitting and has had no bathroom accidents so tell that one dude with the rope to trip and break his neck. Noa still shows a love for cooking! It’s nice that his previous behavior and personality weren’t fully wiped out."

You take a deep breath before you continue to write.

"I have decided to talk to Kaibara with supervision. I won’t leave Noa with him and I will not be alone in the same space as him. Kaibara has shown violent tendencies towards me and Noa, with witnesses present, and I have no guarantee that he won’t hurt Noa even more. This talk will only be me telling him basic things about Noa and getting his signature. Will this satisfy you and save my grade?

Other than you disrespecting me and my robo-baby, he is having a problem swallowing some things. I have decided to feed him soup and mashed things. It happened suddenly when I made him a sandwich. Is it possible that he didn't chew right? Maybe it just went down rough. That and your dusty ass gave him hives."

-------

Snipe sighs after he finishes reading your report log out loud. The heroes sit at the table in the conference room. Each tries to remain indifferent to what they saw the other day, but it is undeniable. What was supposed to be a simple punishment ended up being something they’ve only seen with victims, not normal students. The baby project was created for a reason. It’s experimental and shows where the future heroes, the next generation, stand with public and private care. Whether it be their own families or those they contact, they must learn compassion and responsibility.

What happened to you only proved that they have lost their way. All Might sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What exactly did you do?” He wasn’t there at the time. Most of the teachers weren’t. Actually, some of them weren’t even called to search because the kids were found so quickly by the third-year heroes.

“In summary, the student lost points and she reacted badly,” Aizawa says gruffly.

Snipe scoffs. “Reacted badly? That's the conclusion to your analysis? I’ve seen her react badly, but this was on another level.”

“Her grades are essential to her scholarship. Having Noa revert to two years old would have been a factor.”

Vlad King rubs his face. “It was too far. There definitely needs to be a check on all of the students.”

Nezu nods. “Although I agree that the impact it had on her grade was definitely a factor for her panic, I can’t deny that Snipe is right, too.” He taps his chin and says, “We must check their health. Not just mentally, but physically as well. I want everyone to be evaluated.”

“What about (Y/n)?” Snipe hopes that his colleagues remember what they felt when they saw you in Recovery Girl's office.

“I think it’s only fair that (Y/n)’s grade be mainly restored. However, Noa and Kobeni did go missing, so she has to lose some points." Nezu taps on the table. "I agree, Recovery Girl. It was cruel.” Nezu thought of mercy for you.

“It’s about time you guys thought of the children.” Her old voice huffs. She smacks the stack of paper on the table. Aizawa looks down at his lap. “We are. Hence why we’re doing this assignment.”

“At the cost of other children? Heroes over civilians?” Snipe’s words echo on the walls and settle into the adults' minds. The reason for the baby project is to prevent and train the heroes on how to be compassionate and raise the next generation with care. To give them a taste of the future. The younger general studies were the perfect candidates in their opinion. It was less risky since they weren't as tainted or exposed as the previous year. However, your reaction revealed something they didn’t expect. Now the question of validity and correction hangs in the air.

Nezu nods. “We’ll keep the assignment and restore her grade-”

Snipe interrupts before Nezu can change the subject. “And a caretaker. I understand that the hero course faces dangers that children can’t be around but my students face challenges too. Look at their grades, their health, all of it. They deserve the same treatment.”

Vlad nods. “I agree.” Aizawa nods and agrees, finally. Nezu puts his hands together and says, “This brings me to Kaibara…”

Vlad sighs and rubs his face. His heavy hand lands on the dark wood table. Kaibara has been a subject he has tried to handle and avoid at the same time.

-------

“Alright, class, we’ve come to an agreement.” Snipe puts his hands on the podium. “We understand your situation about the caregivers-”

“Inequality. It’s okay, you can say it.” Sakura crosses her arms and with a subtle wave of her finger, you spot Jule trying to discreetly pull out his phone. Snipe doesn’t see what’s going on.

Snipe’s silent then takes his mask off. “You’re right. It’s not fair hence why we’re giving you guys one. It’ll be during classes of course.”

The class cheers. This is the bare minimum, but it’s a start. A footstep that’ll help tremendously. Alas, it will not be enough.

Ema waves her hand. “When?”

“How? It’ll be tragic if the caregiver gets blamed just like (Y/n).” Benio’s expression is so deadpan it hurts.

“Enough. Benio, it won’t be like last time.” Snipe takes a breath and looks directly at you. “I’d like to see you after class.”

Riko looks at you and sucks in her lips. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what she’s worried about. She’s worried it has to do with her and if you’ll finally tell the truth. Riko doesn’t need to verbally say it. Her expression speaks for her. Even though you understand, your sympathy can’t fight the resentment from the pain you went through for her, for all of them. To have her sit here and be worried about you being a snitch only rubs salt in the wound.

If she doesn’t back off, you’re liable to tell. She flinches and her focus goes back to her desk. Good. Your classmates and Izuku have been very supportive and empathetic, you can't help the bitterness, embarrassment, and anger. You were so proud that Noa was three years old and just to have that ripped away from you was brutal. Not to mention that she was supposed to be watching the kids. One day these feelings will subside. Until then, she needs to back the fuck off and remember her place.

It feels good to have her remember that she owes you.

You stand in front of Snipe. Today, surprisingly, Noa decided to go with Izuku. It’s not like it is a big deal since he’s handed off and there's no struggle like there is with you.

“I read your log, which was entertaining by the way,” Are you supposed to say thank you? Ever since they did that to Noa, you haven’t said a word in any of your classes. You’ve been called on and asked to speak yet you say nothing. If you do, they’ll use it against you and come at Noa again.

Snipe sighs and scratches the back of his head. His hat moves as he does it. “Look, we decided what happened was out of line. So, to compensate, we’re turning Noa back to three. However, your grade is still docked a few points because he did go missing. But these are points that can be made up. With you being more advanced than your peers, it won’t take long.”

You say nothing even though this is good news and you were acknowledged as superior to everyone else. As you should be.

He waits and waits for a response. He clears his throat and nods. “Oh, and, um, about your parental situation. Kaibara is still the official father, but we recognize Midoriya being Noa’s stepfather. So, your grade in that regard won’t suffer. We understand the situation better and think it will be best to do it this way without taking away Kaibara’s grade since it needs to be documented.”

Does he expect you to thank him? You want Kaibara out of your life forever. Do the heroes want you to jump for joy because they no longer expect you to include him and have given their blessing for Midoriya? Who isn’t even recognized as his real father, but a stepfather. How are you supposed to be happy about this?

Snipe fiddles with his thumbs. “Alright. That’s what I wanted to tell you. You’re dismissed, (Y/n).” You leave without a look back. From behind is a sigh that lasts until you shut the door.

It feels so nice to make him and the others miserable. How wonderful it is that it bothers him and the adults that you're angry, silent, and hurt. So much so, that they've acknowledged what they did was wrong. What about everything else? What about the entire project? There's a lot to pay for and this little morsel they gave will not cover it. -------------

You don't understand why you are nervous about telling Izuku. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t really mean anything. Are you making it a bigger deal than it is?

He stands in the kitchen with Noa on his hip. Noa sniffs a seasoning that Izuku brings to his nose. The toddler wrinkles his nose and says 'no'. This continues until Izuku finds one he likes then has Noa put it into a saucepan.

If or when he has kids, they will be so loved. Izuku is always busy and is easily distracted, but when Noa wants the least bit of attention, his papa will stretch himself thin just to be there. Strangely enough, he’s a blessing. Who would have thought that this guy who you saw on a phone screen for two seconds would be Noa’s papa? A good one, too.

The scene is sweet and domestic. Noa is starting to have very obvious features of Izuku. The more you look at Noa, you can see that he’s grown. The teachers must’ve increased his age already. Taking a deep breath, you walk up to them and ask, “Izuku, can I talk to you for a minute?” He perks up at the sound of your voice. Noa squints his eyes at you. “Mm!”

He still won’t call you mom. You’ve deduced that his ‘mm’ is his version of mom and that he’s doing it on purpose.

“It’ll be a second, bud. I’ll be right back.” He sets Noa down and turns the stove on low. Noa crosses his arms and taps his foot.

“What’s up?” Izuku looks over your face for a clue. You clear your throat. “Ah, Snipe’s bitch ass told me that Kaibara doesn’t have to be an active participant right now.”

“Hm?”

“I was confused about that too. It means that I don’t have to rely on him for my grades. And that um,” You scratch your cheek. “You can be like, Noa’s stepdad or something? I already put you in my reports-”

“You do?” His eyes shine and his cheek blooms a light shade of pink. It looks pretty on his face. “Yeah. I mean, you’ve done a lot for me and Noa so it’s only right.” He sucks in his lips to hide his obvious smile.

One of your hands is behind your back while the other plays with your ear. “Anyway, I just wanted to ask if it’s okay. I’m already doing it but I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“Yes.”

“You can say no.”

“Even though you’ve already started?” You frown. “Well, yeah…you can still tell me no.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m flattered that you write about me,” He licks his lips. “What do you write? I mean, I don’t know much about your reports, so I want to know what you say.”

You purse your lips and roll your eyes. “I tell them that you’re a crybaby that Noa peed on and who likes gory porn.”

The pink on his cheeks spread. “N-no! No, I do not! And he peed on you too!”

“Ha! Not as much as he did you. It was like a fountain. Like, shhh!” You imitate water sounds. He scoffs and crosses his arms, trying to look tough. It's hard to take it seriously when he looks cute.

“He shhh'ed on you first!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Uh-huh! I remember because you started screaming like a sissy girl.” What kind of insult is that? Clearly, he doesn't do this often. Then, you stop and lean in. “Like a girl from your gory porno movies?”

“(Y/n)!”

You poke his chest. “You are a 'prevert'. That’s worse than a pervert. You probably liked me screaming like those girls in those movies.”

There’s something in you, something a little weird and devious. You get closer to him. The space is almost non-existent and gives him a view of your chest if he looks down. He is red from head to toe and stiff as a board. You smile and poke his face teasingly. Right when you are about to harass him some more, Noa’s little voice sounds from behind you.

“Porn?” Both you and Izuku, who has darkened eyes, gasp and turn to look at the source. Noa cocks his head to the side. “No, no, no! Don’t say that.”

Noa squints his eyes. “Go back in the kitchen, buddy. I’ll be there in a second.”

You clear your throat and look down. You were so caught up in messing with Izuku that Noa slipped your mind. His hand rubs the back of his neck. Clearly, he’s in the same boat. “I have an idea,” Izuku slowly grins again. The red has calmed down but not by much. At least he's breathing again. “What if we do our own birth certificate? If you want to! It’s up to you!”

Even after all these months, he thinks he has to ask when it concerns Noa.

“I’d like that.” If it looks cute, you may even frame it.

It’s Noa’s construction paper and has been written in Izuku’s handwriting since it is more legible. He put the words ‘birth certificate’ on the top and the date. There isn’t anything fancy on it other than Noa’s information and your name next to ‘mom’ and Izuku’s name next to ‘papa’. Underneath both of yours is where Noa’s name will go. “Boy, get in here, we wanna talk to you.”

Noa comes around the counter. “I’m waiting!” For him being so young, he’s very vocal and speaks clearly. It’s amazing, actually. Even if he is putting his hands on his hips impatiently as he taps his foot on the floor. He's clearly got Izuku's personality.

“Noa, c’mere for a sec.” You take the paper out and point. “Baby boy, this is a birth certificate. It’s how people know who you and your parents are. See? My name is right here.”

“Okay…” He answers slowly. You rub the top of his head. “What’s your name?” You ask.

“Noa.”

“What’s your full name?” Without hesitation, he says so clearly, “Noa Midoriya.”

You write it down on his line. Izuku sniffles when you finish. “Want to sign it too?” Noa bounces and takes the marker with his left hand and swirls it around. Apparently, it’s his signature.

Izuku twirls him around. You will copy this so you can keep the original. That copy is going right into Snipe’s face and telling him to choke.

----------

After your ceremony and dinner, you decide to pick up the toys that his papa keeps buying him. It’s sweet but a pain to have to help Noa pick up and organize. Right when you bend over to pick up one of Noa’s many toys, he hits your butt. He's been finding it fun to hit nowadays despite your warning.

“Izuku, get your kid before I do. I’ve been trying to be gentle but-”

“I know, I know, my dear. Noa, c’mere.” He pats his lap for Noa to jump onto. “Look, I know you love Mm and don’t mean to hurt her, but you are. You’re hurting people when you do that.”

The kid purses his lips. “Sorry.”

“Are you sorry because you got caught or because you mean it? They are different.”

“Caught.”

“Oh my God…” You whisper. Groaning, you turn to continue your task. The amount of plushies, blocks, his tool kits, and the kitchen supplies he has are more fun than witnessing this.

“Noa, it’s not right to hit Mm. She’s your mom and your friend. You can’t hit her.”

Noa growls. “Yes, I can!” Izuku shakes his head no. “It’s hurting her feelings, Noa. That’s not right.”

Noa takes this in for literally three seconds. He side eyes his dad and says, “No.”

Izuku frowns which is new to Noa. “It's not nice. You are going to stop hitting, Noa Midoriya. Understand?" Izuku's firm voice is just as new to Noa.

You turn to look and see Noa’s eyes watering. His voice wobbles. “Sorry.”

Izuku holds him close and rubs his toddler's back. “Hitting people is in the past. Now let’s grow.” He kisses Noa's wet cheek.

Noa gets down and waddles to you. He squeezes you tight and says sorry. The tears and snot on his face are wiped on your pant leg. You didn't get this treatment when you tried to talk to him.

You put your hands on your hips. “Why the hell-”

Noa points his finger at you. “She smack too!” Snitch ass.

“Imma smack you!”

“(Y/n)!”

Noa listens intently to your words of The Greatest Love Story. You’ve read it numerous times, yet he still gets excited. Strangely, Izuku does as well. His green eyes are so vibrant as you read the book.

Izuku has his head on your lap and Noa lays on his papa's chest that he covers a chunk of. If this project continues for a while, Noa may be as big as he is. It is almost impossible to fathom but likely that the heroes will do that. How do you even care for a teenager? You can barely take care of yourself.

“(Y/n),” Izuku murmurs. You stop reading for him to continue. “Thank you for everything.”

“What?”

“You’ve made me so happy, dearie. I don't know when I smiled so much or even felt this important without the world on my shoulders. I don’t have to fight or die when I’m with you.” He looks away, bashful as always. “I’m…at peace. I’m happy.”

Deep inside, you know it is about Noa. Without him, Izuku wouldn’t give you the time of day. Nevertheless, you’ll take what you can get from him. You will gladly accept and cherish this moment. It's not going to last forever, and you know this. Izuku's new content and relaxed nature with you will end when Noa fades away. Still, you will accept these precious moments anyway, despite the ache it will leave.

“Since the wars, I’ve felt so guilty. Everyone got dragged into it. Even you. For years I let it eat at me, and I always will,” His eyes meet yours. “Then I saw you.” His finger reaches your cheek to poke it. His eyelids are droopy. He's so close to sleep that he doesn't realize he's saying this out loud.

“Thank you for everything. Thank you for listening.” His hand lowers while yours reaches his curly head and massages it. Your hand goes through his soft, thick strands easily. Izuku drifts to sleep and into a peaceful dream. "My pleasure."

--------------

You finish the report happily. It started off rocky but the ending is great. You staple on the copy of Noa’s new birth certificate. Happiness isn’t enough to describe this feeling.

The light of the sun is bright and shines in your room. Around this time, Izuku would Facetime or call. He could be doing anything. Most likely, it’s training since he hasn’t been doing it very often. You still feel guilty when he reassures you that it’s okay. However, he is apparently quirkless and thus needs the extra training that he’s been skimping out on which adds onto your guilt.

“I miss Papa.” Noa’s small voice whispers. His fluffy head peeks out from his blanket.

“And I miss when you used to behave. Think about that.”

He pouts and sniffles. His little feet pad against the wooden floor. You turn in your chair to look at him and spot the blue paper he has in his hand. “You want to give that to him?”

You bounce along to search for Izuku and show him the new cute thing Noa’s done. The little toddler ‘drew’ a big circle and squiggly lines and insisted that they were you, Izuku, and Noa. It will tickle his papa to see that Noa notices the little details and has his own spin on them.

“Will he like it?” Noa squeezes your hand. “How could he not? This belongs on the fridge of fame!” You pick him up and give him a kiss. It’s amazing that even though he’s three, he is so freaking smart.

Just as you open the dorm’s door and stride into the yard, you see Izuku. He is standing with his back turned towards you with his gym outfit on and a towel over his shoulder. Immediately, Noa bounces up and down when he spots his papa. His little hand remains in yours as he tugs on you when he runs. The two of you are in earshot of the group and what is being debated steals the breath from your lungs.

“Midoriya, she’s leaning on you too much.” The voice sounds bubbly. Not the current tone but it reminds you of bubble gum for some reason. Whoever said this must be normally peppy. You can’t remember her name, but she almost beat Kacchan in the Sports Festival this year. The one Noa didn’t allow you to witness and Izuku still holds the video that you haven’t watched.

“Uraraka’s right. You would’ve aced that test had she not asked for your help all of the time.” That one sounds familiar but you can’t place it. At Izuku's sides are a guy with weird elbows, the bubbly one, and Benio’s baby mama. The familiar voice must be in front of Izuku and his built body covers them. Even though you’re shocked by what’s happening, that doesn’t stop you from admiring his figure.

“There’s nothing wrong with anyone asking for help. And she isn’t asking-”

“Didn’t she ask you to babysit?” A couple of times, maybe?

“Hasn’t she literally brought Noa to you when you were studying when Kaibara’s right there?” When was that?

“I think it’s cool that you’re doing this. It really shows that you are genuinely kind. But Midoriya, don’t feel bad just because of what she’s going through. Kaibara is right there. Let him handle that." The tape guy places his hand on Izuku’s shoulder. His easy-to-draw face shows the concern he apparently has.

Izuku clenches his fists and releases. “You have no idea what you’re talking about-”

You suck in your lips to stop them from wobbling. Noa touches your leg. He tilts his head to the side. They’re right. You’ve been too dependent on him. He has absolutely nothing to do with this and you’ve dragged him into your drama time and time again.

Noa shakes the paper with the drawing on it. You leave before anyone can hear him, most of all, Midoriya.

“Papa’s gotta see!” The talking stops. You don’t stay to hear or see anything else that’s happening behind you. They’re right and that’s it. You… you are too reliant. Noa did run away and could have gotten hurt. Did he feel pressured to sign the paper? He seemed happy but heroes lie all the time. Just like now, these people have a smile on their faces when they see you but will say these things behind your back.

You stop walking. What the hell are you doing?

You turn back around and stomp towards the group. “So, I push things onto him, yeah?”

The green-haired bastard turns around. His face lights up until he sees the steam coming out of your ears. “Dear-”

“Hush!” You stomp over to his friends. “Which one? Which one thinks I’m pushing things?” A boy with yellow hair and a lightning bolt stripe on it peeks from around Izuku. Fucking Denki! No wonder it sounded familiar.

You take Noa’s drawing and roll it up. He goes to protest but you slip him under your arm like a football. Without hesitation, you swing his paper at them in various places. Benio’s baby mama is the first to go. The paper swats her in the face then Denki Kaminari is next with several hits. The tape guy gets a jab in the face whereas the pink-cheeked one takes a beating since she has a big fucking mouth.

Izuku tries to grab the paper from you. In return, you swing it at him. “Dumb,” Smack. “Ass,” Smack. “Mother-”

He picks you up and is careful with Noa. “I dare any of you to say-let me go, stupid! Let me go! I’m not done-”

“Yes, you are.” His tone is harsh and stern; it makes you tense for a moment.

He enters the general studies dormitory with you over his shoulder. He goes up the stairs rather than take the elevator. The people who roam around stare at you. Ema in particular stops chewing her sandwich and watches with wide eyes.

You can’t believe this. “Why are you not saving me-”

Izuku goes up another flight of stairs, completely ignoring everyone. He sets Noa down and searches your back pocket for your room key. He unlocks the door and Noa runs in first towards his art set.

He puts you down and slams the door. Looking at his frown pisses you off. “You weren’t going to say anything. How many times have they talked shit about me, huh?” He doesn’t respond. Izuku’s chest falls and rises. You get up and go up to him.

“You suck! God, if you want to leave, then leave!”

“No!” Noa runs to his papa. Ah, shit.

“Papa’s not going anywhere, buddy. Don’t you worry about that, okay?” Noa squeezes his leg. Izuku kneels down to Noa’s level. “Alright? I’m not leaving.”

“She say-”

“Mm doesn’t understand that I’m not leaving. I’ll tell her.” Noa gives his papa a big kiss. Izuku sets him on his bed. Noa jumps on it. “I won’t be high!”

“Good!” Izuku turns to you. “I’m not leaving."

“You didn’t tell them. If we are such a burden, then the door is always open for you to go. I’m not going to let people think that way of us.” He sighs and comes closer. You end up backing up a few steps and hit the wall. Why's he mad at you? You didn't do anything wrong.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. They may be my friends, and I love them dearly, but they are wrong. This is my choice. You have never forced anything on me," His green eyes trail over your face. They soften greatly. "You know, I’m pretty sure they get the hint where you’re concerned. I haven’t seen them look like that in years.”

“And I’ll do it again.” You wanted and needed to release your anger. It's about time you let go. Who knows? Maybe hitting them with paper wasn't the right thing to do. Maybe you needed something heavier.

His hands are pressed on the wall by your sides. “I’m not going. I need you to breathe,” He sighs and leans in. “I’m not leaving, and you are not a burden. I’m happy to be here. I’m happy with you. Let me deal with them, (Y/n).”

Your arms are crossed and you look down. Noa keeps jumping on the bed while witnessing this. Although Izuku assured that he’d handle it, you can’t scratch out what they said nor can you let go of how he acted like a manic caveman. Both things are uncomfortable and he may not fully understand.

“What they said-”

“Is wrong. How can you be a burden?" He stops talking and moves his arms away. Izuku rubs the back of his neck. "How can you be a burden when it's fun to be around you? You’re smart, funny, a good person-”

“Izuku?”

“You’re strong and brave, creative and a fighter.” He's counting on his fingers.

“Um-” You've seen his muttering episodes, but this is the first time it's about you and not your quirk. His low voice continues without a hitch. Izuku looks directly into your eyes without shame. He may not realize that he’s verbally saying these things. “You smell good, and dress nice, you let Noa help you get ready which I think is really cute, and-” He freezes completely. His eyes are totally blank. If he was a robot, he’d be considered on the fritz.

Izuku covers his mouth to quiet the shriek. Because you’re a nice person, you change the subject.

“Look at his picture, Deku.” You mimic that one girl’s voice. What is that pink cheek's name? There is something there that can sense that she's going to be trouble. Not only was she talking mad shit about you, but you didn't like how she looked at her Deku.

You still had a hold on it when he carried you away. You hand him the blue paper. With a grin, he compliments it and agrees that it needs to be on the fridge of fame. “Hear that Noa? It’s going up!”

“Yes!” His little hands snatch it from his papa’s. He runs out the door with the two of you quickly behind. Noa bursts through the kitchen and puts one of the kids’ magnets on his paper. The little cupcake magnet and drawing stand out among the Post-it notes and lists.

“What’s all this?” Izuku, who has calmed down, touches one of the post-its that is losing its stickiness. You shrug and read it. “My list.”

You haven’t wanted to think about it, honestly. Not that you’re procrastinating, it’s just sad to think about. Everyone has a section of the kitchen. Yeah, it’s normal for everyone to borrow something from others, but it is still embarrassing when you’re the one who is constantly doing it. Throughout the years, you hoped you’d appear as a minimalist or something and not the struggling student that you’ve always been. Now that Izuku is frowning at your list and is opening your things, you are becoming mortified. How did he miss it in the first place? He was right here in the kitchen the other day.

“(Y/n)-”

You point to all the items you have. “Noa isn’t going without, okay? Look, I have food.” Izuku doesn’t say anything. Not one word. The clock dings a new hour.

“(Y/n), I want you to take this,” He digs into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. “And get some groceries. I have to go so you’re going to have to go alone.”

His card is sleek and looks new. There isn't any wear and tear on it at all. “No.” Your response is automatic and made from a prideful will that has been built for years. Humiliation can sink into your flesh and make you hotter than a stove all it wants to, but the defense for your parenting and survival is something that can’t wait.

“Bunny, please take it-”

“No! I’m not a charity.” You snap.

He frowns as you point to the clock. “You have something to do, right? Noa, give sugars!”

Noa hugs Papa tight. “I’ll see you soon, Bub. And you,” Izuku points to you. “We’ll talk later.”

As he walks out of the dorm reluctantly. You watch as he disappears and wonder if you messed up. ----------

“Mm! I want something different.” He swishes his spoon that rested in his little white bowl. You sigh and look down at your hands. The soup is one you know by heart and rely on when times are tough. At his age, you were saying the same thing about the tomato soup. You now know what your mother felt during times of struggle. You suck in your lips and try to reason with Noa. “Just one more bite?”

He groans and pouts. He flicks his blue spoon again. “I want Papa.”

Yeah, this is way too familiar. “Noa, one more bite. Then you can talk to Papa. It’s dinnertime so he may be on his way.” Noa lights up and bounces in his chair. He happily scoops up some of his food and chews the noodles. “Mm, okay!” He extends his arms for the phone. You dial for Izuku and hand Noa the phone.

The entire time you don’t speak another word. You grab his unfinished food and your empty bowl that you reluctantly ate. In the pot is the soup you grew up with and you too became tired of it. You stir it as you look at its bits of onion and noodles.

“Mm, here you go! Papa had to leave but he’ll be home, okay?” He kisses your cheek and runs away to the living room. You wipe your hands on your apron.

You see the soup in the pot again and pour it out. You hang your head low and hit the counter with your hand. Relying on Deku for everything is not an option. You are an independent person who has fought and lived through the rough patches. No way are you going to rely on a partner for a project. What if you become accustomed to it? What if you become reliant on him and lose your way? He’s a nice man who decided that he really likes Noa. Nothing more than that. It’s ridiculous he offered his card in the first place.

Noa only ate a few bites. You need to get him to eat a little more but what? He’s been so picky lately, that it’s hard to keep up. At least Izuku feeds him well. When he’s with you, he refuses. Damn, your stupid, stupid pride. You take a deep breath and bite your lip. This project is stupid. What purpose does it serve? How is this helping you with anything other than increasing your hatred? Not just for heroes, but everything and everyone? Noa’s feelings about the tiring soup in the sink are too relatable. This project makes you feel so guilty, so inadequate. Is this how your mother felt when raising you? Did Izuku’s mama feel this way, too? Does he share the same feelings as you have right now?

Behind you, a familiar voice calls out. You quickly wipe your face as Noa’s hurried little feet pad across the floor. Speak of the devil, and he’ll appear. Izuku Midoriya stands behind you with Noa in one arm and a pizza in his other hand. The gesture is nice, it’s great. God, do you want to crumble that pizza in his face.

He sets them both down and grabs Noa a plate. “Here you go, bud. Go sit at the table.”

You remember back in the day, your mother would always say that the crust was her favorite part. Back then, you thought she was weird and didn’t realize that she was lying so you could eat. Looking at this giant pie that’s in front of you, you don’t have to repeat her words. And God, you hate Izuku for it. You’re happy and grateful even when this ball that goes from your stomach to your chest feels like he’s doing it out of spite. He’s not doing it to hurt you, you’re positive of that. He probably already picked it up before Noa called.

“Hey.” Izuku walks to you tentatively. His eyes scan you for anything out of place. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Dear, please.”

“I’m fine.” You walk past him until his arm sticks out to block you. His hand is spread against the wall to your side. His fingers still have specks of dirt on them and his knuckles are red again. What happened to his suit? He must’ve had a long day.

“Darling, please, what’s wrong?” You shake your head and side eye him. You miss the days where he was a bashful puppy dog. You’re happy that he’s comfortable and doesn’t look constipated all the time, though. “Nothing.”

He furrows his brows. “Did something happen? Did Kaibara mess with you?”

“No, no. It’s not that. I’ll deal with it on my own. It’s a personal problem.”

“The teachers? My friends? Who did it-”

You stop him. “No one did anything! It’s not that!” He sighs and tilts his head. “Please tell me. I can help.”

You know he can. He has given you the answer but it isn’t the answer you want. You need to stand on your own and here he is saying lean on him, let him carry you. This is new. Brand new and so shiny it hurts. You’re afraid to break it so you begin to hate its temptation to use it.

His provision won’t last. The project could end at any time.

“I don’t need you.” He looks struck for a second then recovers quickly. “Is this about the card?”

“No.”

“(Y/n).”

Noa tears into his slice of pizza that he dismembered. The cheese is to the side and has been picked on like a bird’s pecks. “He’s not eating what I can give him.”

“He’s at that stage. It’s normal, (Y/n).” You shake your head. “I mean, I can only give him the same thing over and over. He’s tired of it.”

Izuku hums and grabs a hold of your shoulders. “Well, that only means we’re going to the store.”

“I don’t need-”

“I’m his dad, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, I have to make sure he eats and if that means filling the fridge up, I’ll do it.”

There was a time when your mother would have jumped at this kind of offer. The time she was sick of soup and a five dollar pizza was a luxury she only got once in a blue moon. Now, here it is in front of you. It’s shiny like a diamond but temporary.

“I’ll pay for my own things.”

“If your friends were to ask you for something, would you give it to them if you had the means?”

“Yeah.” Maybe. Not likely.

“Good. Now eat so we can go.”

-----------------

Noa is hand and hand with the both of you. He swings around and giggles. Izuku looks at you in the corner of his eye. “I don’t mean to trample on your feelings.”

“Which one?"

He sighs. "I'd like to hear them all, if you don't mind."

You point at him and answer, "I'm not accustomed to being manhandled or told what to do, first of all." He twirls a green curl. A subtle flush blooms on his face. "Sorry about that. It was wrong of me, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was, you deranged caveman. And this," You wave your hand in the air. "I'm not used to it."

“I understand." He licks his lips. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings. I want to do the exact opposite."

Noa doesn't notice the conversation. Or maybe he does and isn't caring. “I appreciate it, I swear, but no one has ever done any of this, y’know? It’s like giving up the reins.”

“You're not-”

“Then I look at him and think I'm failing.” Izuku holds the door open for you. Noa skips the lines on the floor, hopping over them so he can stick to his pattern. Izuku grabs the cart and sticks Noa inside it, much to the toddler’s dislike. “You are not failing.”

Izuku brings out a sheet of paper with your handwriting on it from his pocket. He must’ve taken it when you weren’t looking. Seeing the length, it feels like someone is reading your homework in front of the class and you got every question wrong.

“Stop comparing yourself to people who have more and realize how far you’ve gotten without the resources they have. Noa is the oldest out of all of them. That alone should tell you that you are,” He puts his hand on your back and rubs circles on it. “An amazing mom. Don’t listen to those thoughts, okay?”

He reaches behind you and pulls All Might fruit snacks from the shelf. You roll your eyes. “That’s not on the list.”

“It is for me.” He looks at the box and murmurs about it being Silver Age All Might. You laugh and he perks up. "There she is."

The three of you continue on through the store, putting things in the cart from the list and then some. You are looking at noodles when you hear Izuku’s excited voice.

“Hey, look!” Izuku goes to a small section of hero merchandise. “Noa, do you like it?”

Izuku holds an All Might t-shirt in a slightly bigger size for Noa. Then, much to Izuku’s dismay and surprise, Noa wrinkles his nose and says that he doesn’t like All Might. Not because of the design of the shirt, but because to Noa, All Might wasn’t a good hero.

You’re going to strangle them both. Here you are with a cart filled with food and your two boys are arguing. Izuku Midoriya, the famed Deku, is arguing with a three-year-old on why All Might is a great hero.

“Nuh-uh!” Noa shakes his head. You cover your face with your hand. “Yes huh!”

Several people turn to look at the scene. Some look amused and others look at you to separate the two boys. You yank the shirt away and put it into the cart. You pull both of their ears. “Okay, Noa, you can wear the shirt to bed so no one will see it. Izuku, it’s okay if he doesn’t like All Might.”

“Ow.”

“Hush. Y’all so embarrassing, oh my God.” Noa sits in the cart which you leave with Izuku. When he opens his mouth, you snap. “Eh! No, it’s done, it’s over, boys!” You walk away shaking your head. Other mothers raise their eyebrows in shock at the two miscreants.

“Sorry, sorry.” You quickly head to the other aisle.

Suddenly, you hear two voices not belonging to your boys. They call out Izuku’s hero name. Curious, you peek around the corner to watch. He is stiff as a board when they take pictures with him. You can’t help but smile at his discomfort.

The guy in the yellow points to Noa. “Oh, it’s one of the U.A. babies!”

“I thought they were smaller?” The other sport horns on their head and has whiskers.

Shit, shit, shit! You turn into the aisle. Before you can take another step, Izuku’s soft expression towards Noa makes you stop. “Yeah, he’s mine. They grow! He’s already three. Aren’t you?”

Noa kicks his feet and repeats his age. It’s heartwarming seeing how proud he is of Noa. Alas, there is a deep feeling that this is about to go south soon. As if you manifested it, one of them asks, “So, when’s the big showdown anyway?”

“What?”

They ignore his question and keep talking. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see at least one hero give a damn. But I still don’t think this project is fair.”

You suppress a smile from their support. “I agree. It doesn’t make sense to me and a lot of us. But I’m happy to be a part of it. I mean, look at him!”

One of the fans bounces and waves at Noa which he returns. “He looks just like you!” Clearly, Noa favors you! Now is not the time to argue about it, though. What you need to do is get Izuku away from them.

“He does look a lot like me, huh?” Izuku’s voice is soft and his eyes match the tone. It’d be a sweet moment if his fans weren’t talking.

“Doesn’t that mean you spend a lot of time with him? I saw on-”

“Yeah! The class with all the babies talks about it a lot. Leave it to Deku to be a great dad to Noa!”

Izuku’s bashful face turns into confusion. “Wait, how do you know-”

“From the videos. What are they-I think General Studies are putting an argument together! Isn’t that cool?”

Izuku’s eyes widen and his mouth parts. The horned one waves their arms. “I-I’m sure not you, though! I mean, look at Noa! Clearly, you’re one of the good ones.”

“As expected! Even though heroes are acting like shit.” They mutter.

Izuku turns his head to you, who is standing at the end of the aisle no doubt looking like a deer in headlights. His fans follow and wave at you. “See! Her, right there.”

You were so stressed out about the project, you forgot that people have eyes and memories. You didn’t expect people to recognize you. If only you could have snuck out of here like a smooth criminal.

“Good luck with Hawks!”

-----------------

Izuku carries in the groceries all by himself while you handle Noa. He even helps put the stuff away despite it being past curfew to enter the dorms. The three of you barely made it in time.

“Izuku?” He remains quiet and picks Noa up. He goes to your room, making you follow him. Like the magician he is, Izuku managed to get Noa to sleep just by walking to your room. He changes his son's clothes and tucks him in.

“He can brush his teeth in the morning.” Noa’s papa whispers. In his hand is the bag with the things Noa threw in there. Some toys, a random hat, and a magazine about pandas he found in the checkout. Izuku takes all of it out and starts to put stuff away.

“Izuku, please say something.” Izuku straightens up with more of Noa’s things in his hand to put them in the proper place.

“I need some of his things in my room too.” If it were a different situation, you may have giggled given how fatherly he’s acted today while wearing a t-shirt that hugs him loosely with the word “Dad” on it.

“S-sure. We can do tomorrow since-”

He interrupts you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You start to stutter. “B-because I knew you’d be against it since it has to do with your friends and the teachers you adore so much. If you knew that we’re building a case against you guys, you’d’ve been furious!”

He doesn’t say anything but continues to put Noa’s things away in drawers. He then goes to your bed and starts to make it. “Izuku, please. You know I’m right.”

He stops tucking in the comforter and stares at you. “You should’ve told me, (Y/n).”

You shift on your feet and bite your lip. “Izuku, I’m not trying to hurt you. Just the heroes and your friends.”

He sighs and finishes the bed. It’s pristine and so tight you could bounce a quarter on it. “Why can’t you be honest with me?”

“About me going to your boss’s boss and telling him of this travesty? You would have accepted that? Come on, Izuku. You’d’ve hated me. Hell, you’re mad now!”

“I know I’m mad! I’m pissed off. Not just because you’re going to attack my friends and our teachers, but you lied.” He fluffs your pillows and arranges them in proper order.

“Lied?”

“Lying by omission. You didn’t even say anything. Damn it, (Y/n). Why didn’t you trust me? Why aren’t you giving my friends a chance?”

You scoff at his take and his hypocrisy. Does he not remember hiding the caregiver situation? “A chance? They’ve had months of chances and they’ve turned them away. And your dear teachers add to our pain with no remorse. Yes, yes, I didn’t tell you. Yes, I am taking everyone to the hero commission. It's going to hurt. But this is happening. We’re struggling, we’re in pain. Damn it, Deku. How many times do I have to cry in front of you for you to understand what’s really going on?”

He clenches his fists then let's go. You continue your rant relentlessly. “Not to mention that whole caregiver thing you were hiding! Yeah, I still remember that. So, let us not forget who the liar is here.”

"Oh my-" He stops in the middle of his sentence and looks around your room. You roll your eyes and gesture around. "You're running out of things to clean. What's next? The windows? Need some Windex?"

His eyes go to your window and to your door. He heads to it before he's stopped by your hand. "Okay, no, no, no!" Izuku's nostrils are flared. The deep frown looks like it'll be permanent if he doesn't ease up. He clenches his fists repeatedly then lets go.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n), I’m sorry! I get it. A false hero society, right?” He sighs and plops down on your bed. Izuku rubs his face. “I know, I know. You’re not the first one.”

The confession makes you freeze. He goes on, “What’s happening is wrong. You’re right about that. But why couldn’t you have told me? Trust me? Yes, I messed up several times. Probably more than I’ve made you feel safe, (Y/n).”

He’s hurt you and lied. However, he has made you feel safe before. You aren't taking that from him.

“Because these people are heroes and you look up to them. I couldn’t risk you turning us in when we’re not ready. I’m still afraid you’ll go against me,” You stare into his green eyes. “I’m gunning for all of the heroes. The way you feel the need to fight a villain is the same way I feel. We’ve been wronged time and time again. You can’t see it since it’s not happening to you. Izuku, hon, you’re important to me but this is important too.”

He can keep a secret, just like he did when he knew you were working. But this concerns the people he loves. His steps reach you in no time. He whispers, “It’ll hurt me. But as long as it’s you, then fine.”

Before, it may have been genuine but now it sounds like he’s reminding himself to set an alarm clock or do homework. After a few beats of silence, you ask, “Are you going to tell?”

Gazing into your eyes, he says, “I’m going to help. Tell me what to do.”

If he’d let you, you’d give him a kiss that’d rival his dream. The one that was from The Greatest Love Story. In the book, it is said that there were only a few legendary kisses. If he would want it, you’d give him another. Not because you’re using him for the cause, but because it’s him.

“Honestly, I need help with um, insider information,” He raises his brows. “I also need help with school. We all do, actually. You see, this project is messing with us. It’s hard to take care of kids, go to school full time, work, and plan mass destruction.”

You intended for that to be playful, and it fell flat instead.

“I’ll help you. We can study together some more.” He tilts his head. “I have some of my old notes that you guys can use, too.”

You know what he’s doing. Izuku’s trying to distract himself from what’s bothering him. Because of Noa, he’s put himself directly into the line of fire. Metaphorically sacrificing himself. And this happens after he thanked you for being a safe haven. How do you make it better?

“I’ll take Noa more often. We need to bond more anyway.”

“Are you sure about this?” His green curls move when he nods his head. He hugs you, fitting your face against him. “What’s happening is wrong. It’s not fair to you or anyone else.”

You nod and hug him back since he’s muffled your mouth. He has gotten relaxed with you to where he can talk and touch without turning into a tomato. Izuku doesn't hesitate to call you an affectionate name since the two of you are friends. He feels comfortable enough to argue with you without stuttering. You don't like that but at least he'd tell you what he feels. Right now, you ripped that away from him.

Suddenly, his pocket vibrates. Izuku hums and brings it out. On it is the name Ochako. He hides the message and sticks it back in his pocket. Before you can bring it up, he hugs you again.

His shoulders shake and there is a sniffle in your ear. “Izuku, be honest with me. If this is too much, let me know.” You whisper.

In response, Izuku rubs your back in circles. You know that he agrees that the baby project is nonsensical, but the people who you are punishing are his friends and comrades. Heroes need to be put in their place but Izuku's crying. How do you make it less painful?

You hug him tighter and place soft kisses on him as wet droplets fall on your shoulder.

@xoxoangellll @js-favnanadoongi @imas1mpp @candiiee @moodyhuesworld @dinorawrss @luvrluvrr @bigchungusdrinksspritecranberry @d4n1elll4 @4ishere @lunavixia @shortchubbybibi @jazzywazzy859 @kksmush

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#midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku #deku x reader #bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #midoriya #bnha izuku midoriya #mha izuku midoriya #q #The Baby Project #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic

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thefaithfulnightwriter · 7 months ago

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𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 ~ Chapter One

Summary - 𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 a female who has been through so much in the clutches of Amarantha. Finds herself being freed she finds herself changed. She's more powerful and was now very unique in her own way. Starting a new life she finds it's hard and feels somewhat lost. But it all changes for her when she finds she has a mate. She soon suddenly feels less lost and finds a home in his arms.

☆or☆

𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 Azriel finds himself lonely. He was lonelier than ever, even in a room filled with his found family. He couldn't seem to rid himself of such feelings. It was a feeling that was threatening to swallow him whole. That is until he meets her, his mate. Azriel soon finds himself feeling less lonely and happier than he's ever been. And it was all because of her.

Pairing - Azriel x Female!Oc

Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Warnings - Characters may be a bit OOC, Mature Themes, Semi Smut, Violence, Language, Mention of Past Abuse, Mentions of War, Fluff, Angst, Some Sensitive Subjects, Mating Bonds, Scars, Experimentation, More Will Be Added If Needed.

Disclaimer - I do not own the series ACOTAR - ACOWAR. I do own certain characters, and I own my mc. I do own somethings that are made up. And i own my writing and whatnot you get where im going and what i am saying lol.

Looking out of the window that was beside her was what she was doing at the moment. Her gaze on the flowers and nature outside. Taking in the sight before her. The view never grew old to her. She could sit and look at the view for hours, maybe even days and get lost in her own little world. But she knew it wasn’t possible for her. She couldn’t do such a thing.

But she always took what time she had and made sure she took in the view and cherished it. It was moments like this when she would do such a thing. Looking outside her home at every little thing she could. The way the beautiful flowers drifted slightly as the wind blew. Taking in the trees and watching as the leaves rustled in the wind and so much more. It led her to smile at the sight. But her attention was soon taken away from the view outside by the voice of a female.

“Annamarie, are you going to the Rainbow with Irina today?”

She heard the familiar voice of a female ask softly. Who had walked into the dining room where she was currently sitting. Turning, Anna saw the female. She had a welcoming smile upon her lips as she tilted her head in question. Her name was Amara. She was a beautiful female high fae. Who she was close with she was like a sister to Anna. Amara being very kind and caring toward anyone. She was quick to take Anna in when she had come into her life.

Hearing her question Anna sent her a smile. She then nodded before looking down at her hands that were on the table fiddling with her cup. She soon looked back up at the female when she heard the shuffling of feet. She soon found Amara now smiling gently at her and was sitting in front of her on the other side of the table.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours that’s got you looking out the window in such a way?” Amara questioned gently with a smile. As she rested her chin on her hands. Looking at Anna with kindness. She had her gaze on the unique female.

Taking in the soft spoken female that she thought of as a close friend. She thought Anna was gorgeous, but Anna had trouble seeing herself in such a way. So Amara made a point to compliment her on more than one occasion along with the rest of their little family.

She smiled seeing Anna so open at the moment. Without a care. With her long dark curly mane that fell over her shoulders and down her back. Her light brown skin that was glowing in the light that came from outside. Then there was her soft but curvy frame along with her being slightly shorter than most fae. Her black long sleeved dress that hugged all of her curves then flowed to the floor. She then saw her medium length curved nails that fiddled with her cup.

Then there were the unique things or attributes about her that she had been put upon her forcefully from her rough journey over the many years. That Anna wasn’t very fond of. But was still coming to terms with and accepting.

There were her ears that were longer and pointed that flapped slightly if she moved her head too quickly. She unfortunately had a cut on the outside of one of her ears. A triangle-like shape of skin missing. They were very sensitive to touch and sound. Which led her to keep them covered most of the time with a scarf or cloth wrapped around her head or her long hair covering them. But they still seemed to peek out no matter what she did.

Then there were her unique eyes. One was a very dark brown resembling a beautiful onyx gem. It was her natural eye color, the color she was born with. The color both her eyes used to be. Then there was the other that was a silver color. It shimmered and glistened with her magic. The color she had been forcefully given. They were unique and different but caused her to become overwhelmed at times. Sometimes having blurry vision or having vision that was clear as day. Well to clear at times and so bright. Leading her to have to wear glasses with silvered wired frames. That had magic infused within them to help moderate her vision. That she often pushed up onto the bridge of her button nose.

There were also the scars that littered Anna’s body. She had a few that littered her face. There were small ones. But then there were two that stood out. One on her soft cheek that was a large and thick line that was from her ear to the corner of her lip. Then one that started from the top of her brow then over her silver eye and ended just above her other chubby cheek. Those were the noticeable ones. There were others that littered her arms and back that no one has seen. Well no one who wasn’t her family. But Anna still tries to keep hidden from others.

But Amara with their family still thought she was truly beautiful. And they made sure to make it known as often as they could. Though Anna thought differently. She always had trouble accepting the way she looked even before what had happened to her. Having insecurities about the way she looked. It had gotten worse at one point after everything that happened to her with her new attributes. But she seemed to be getting better as time passed and with the help of her little found family.

“N - Nothing much Mara. Just taking i - in the view outside is all,” she smiled at Amara. After she gestured to the view outside. She couldn’t help but get lost in the view again. It was just so beautiful she couldn’t get enough of the nature around them. It led her to smile with excitement just thinking of going outside to feel the energy and wind on her skin. She wanted nothing more but to step outside without shoes and socks on to feel the ground beneath her feet. So she could connect with the environment around her. She was about to speak about her excitement but was cut off by Amara speaking.

“Hmmm it is gorgeous isn’t it… just like you sweetheart,” Amara giggled with a grin. Hearing her caused Anna to stop for a moment taking in what she said. Before looking down bashfully. Shaking her head a light blush of pink traveled over her cheeks. Pushing her glasses on the bridge of her nose she sighed sending Amara a playful glare. Causing Amara to giggle with a wide smile, “what I’m just speaking the truth Anna! You are so pretty! Isn’t that right Killian?”

“Very true my love. She is so pretty my heart flutters everytime I see her. Just as it does when I see your gorgeous face,” Killian chimed in. Him having walked into the dining room just a moment ago. Having heard what Amara had said.

Killian having entered the room with a wide smile. As he reached to place a kiss on top of Anna’s head and then kissed Amara’s lips gently. Making a loud kissing noise as he did so. Causing the two females to giggle and chuckle. Both watched as he took a seat by his mate Amara draping an arm lazily around her shoulder. Leading the female to lean into his side. Looking at Killian, Anna rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help but smile at the male. Killian always knew how to make Anna smile and laugh. It led her to sit and remember.

Both having been by each other's sides for a long time now, for about fifty years. The two having been through a lot over the past years by each other’s side. The two had met in a horrible place… Under the Mountain. During Amarantha’s ruling.

Killian having been kidnapped from his home Court, the Dawn Court. Him being a well known powerful healer. While Anna was sold off by her family so they could pay their debt to Amarantha.

They soon found themselves as cellmates. As they were picked to go through experiments. Being experimented on with magic and so much more. Both being poked, prodded, cut, and beaten at for many years. It was truly a dark and cruel time for them.

The only thing keeping them sane and keeping them from giving up during such a time were each other. They had grown a very close bond during that time. So close that they laughed about being platonic soulmates. They were there to hold each other. To encourage each other to keep going and not give up. To keep fighting no matter how much they wanted to just let the darkness consume them.

It was during this time that their choice was taken from them. They had so many things taken from them. They had powerful and unknown magic forced upon them that they didn’t want. It was why they look the way they do now.

Anna with her attributes like her eyes, ears, and scars. Then there was her magic. Having been put through many experiments to try and expand her magic and make her more powerful. So that Amarantha could bind Anna’s magic to her trying to make herself more powerful. Just as she did with the seven High Lords of Prythian. But Anna always kept her new growing magic hidden. No matter how hard it was she made sure no one knew of her new found chaotic magic. Well beside Killian he was the one to coach her teaching her ways to conceal and control her magic. Neither of them wanted anyone to know of Anna’s magic. Killian also wanted to keep Anna safe too.

Then there was Killian with his enhanced healing and ability to heal others. He was able to heal anyone with just a touch from pretty much anything if he put his mind to it. It took time but it was possible for him. His healing magic had grown. Then his ability to heal. He could heal from anything. Whether it be him being amputated the limb would grow back. Being stabbed he could pull out the knife and the wound would heal. Broken bone he could just reposition it correctly and it would heal. All good as new.

There were so many things he could heal from. Anna had witnessed everything and found it weird and gross but got used to it. But with such a power it came at a cost. It was an experiment that went wrong. It all stemmed from fire. The people experimenting on them wanted to test if he could heal from fire. It was before he was gifted with such healing. But ultimately gave him the ability to heal. His skin was scarred and burnt. There wasn’t a part of his body that wasn’t burnt.

That day it led Anna to have to hold him as he cried in her arms non-stop. And Anna held him every minute, never letting go. But after some time with Anna’s encouraging words he got back up and came back even stronger. He still had his bad days, both of them did. But they kept going with each other's help.

It was when the end of Amarantha’s ruling came and she had died that they snuck out together from Under the Mountain. No one knowing of them, just rumors. Both were lucky that not many saw them. They made sure to stay in the dark and stayed hidden. They both felt lost at this point and didn’t know what to do. Until Anna argued with Killian to go to his wife, his mate. The one he spoke about so much. He put up a fight but agreed to go to her only if Anna promised to stay by his side. Which she agreed to hesitantly not wanting to intrude on his life. But he always stated they would be by each other’s side no matter what.

But it seemed their lives got better when Amara Killian’s mate and her sister Irina came into their lives. The two found themselves traveling to the Court of Dreams or Velaris in the Night Court. A beautiful city that had been opened to the public after being hidden for so long.

It was where Amara and Irina had traveled to and made a new home for themselves. But after a heartfelt reunion between Amara and Killian. Amara accepting him and smothering him with love. After the four of them soon became close. They were a family through and through. It led Anna to smile thinking of their little found family.

“Oh shut up Mara, Killy. My goodness I’m not that -,” Anna giggled with a shake of her head feeling her ears move slightly against her head. As she pushed her glasses up upon her nose. Killian was about to cut her off and was going to object. But Irina, his sister in law Amara’s sister, already beat him to it after walking into the room. Having heard part of the conversation.

“Anna don’t even finish that sentence. And I hate to cut this short and get right to it but all of you are beautiful, gorgeous even. But I have to steal Anna. That is if you still want to come with me to the Rainbow. I’m about to leave soon,” Irina chuckled. As she walked into the room still searching through her satchel for something.

“I’m going with you Rina. What are you looking for anyways?” Anna questioned as she got up from her seat. Reaching for her black scarf that had silver stars on it. She then began to wrap it around her head over her long ears. Trying her best to cover them up.

“I’m looking for a letter that was addressed to you. It was all fancy and what not oh here it is,” Irina exclaimed in victory before handing it to her. Anna was confused but shrugged it off thinking it was a new commission for an art piece. Taking the letter she saw it was indeed fancy. As she opened it she thanked Irina which she sent her a nod with a smile as a welcome. Before she started a conversation with Killian and Amara. But looking down at the letter she gasped after reading it. Catching the others' attention.

“What? What’s wrong Anna?” Killian asked her, he was quick to get up and move to stand by her side. She didn’t know how she felt. It was a bit overwhelming for her. So all she did was hand the letter to him. As she sighed, raising her glasses slightly and rubbing her face before placing them back on the bride of her nose. Watching him as he read over the letter. He was soon looking up at her with worry.

“You’re not going,” he declared.

“Wouldn’t that be suspicious if I didn’t go, Killian?” Anna sighed with a question. Not meeting his eyes. As she looked at the ground shuffling on her feet. She didn’t know what to think of the letter but she knew she was screwed either way.

“What does it say?” Amara asked moving to stand next to Killian to read the letter over his shoulder. Irina was quick to ask the same thing as she slowly placed a hand on Anna’s arm gently. To try and sooth her. Looking up Anna sent her a small smile that was filled with fear.

“The High Lord and Lady want to see her because of her artwork. And because of the charity work she has been doing,” Amara gasped as well after reading the letter. Looking at Killian and Anna then to her sister with wide eyes. Who reacted the same hearing what she said. This caused all of them to be filled with fear and worry for Anna. It was quiet for a moment between the four as they began to think of what to do until Irina spoke.

“Okay… I am sorry to say this but she’s going to have to go. There’s no way out of this. As Anna said it would be too suspicious on her part if she didn’t go. They know of her now. It would be even more suspicious if she avoided them. If they find out who she really is. There's too many people who know Anna and adore her in this city. So maybe that’ll ease their minds on her,” Irina put forth. She was about to continue to try and ease the tension but was cut off by Killian.

“No, I told you Anna. You shouldn’t have started doing all this shit. I said it would draw attention to you. But no you didn’t listen to me!” Killian bellowed as he ran his hands over his scared head. Hearing him yell caused Anna to flinch because he did warn her this would happen. But she just wanted to help. Which she whispered as she hugged herself, “I just want to help. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Help Anna! This is going to lead to us being found out by the fucking Night Court’s inner circle. Not just you but me too. Who knows what they’ll do to us!” Killian exclaimed. Sending a glare her way. Looking at her caused him to sigh because he instantly regretted yelling at her. She looked close to tears now in Amara and Irina’s arms. Both females sending him a glare back.

“You need to calm the hell down Killian. You act like she did this on purpose all she’s done was to help people. And she’s done that. She’s helped so many people in this city. So calm down and keep your anger in check. Before I smack the shit out of you. You of all people should know better than to yell at her,” Amara scolded. As she held Anna close, being taller than her. While Irina ran her hand gently over her back trying to also soothe her.

“I’m sorry Anna, I'm just scared. Because I know you’re going to have to go,” Killian sighed. Before he opened his arms inviting her into a hug. Moving her head she adjusted her glasses and looked at him. She sighed and moved to him. Wrapping her arms around his waist while he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“I - I don’t know what is going to happen… b - but I’ll make sure you guys stay safe. And you shouldn’t be scared because no matter what I’ll be there for you Killy,” she vowed. Tightening her hold around his waist to reassure him. A chuckle escaped his lips hearing what she said.

“No matter what I’ll be there for you too Anna. No matter what,” Killian declared with a smile after kissing the top of her head. He was worried but knew that whatever happened that they would get through it together.

Redamancy Taglist -

N/A

#azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar x oc #azriel x oc #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic

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oizysian · 1 year ago

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Has Science Gone Too Far? | Elizabeth Olsen

Requested by @selfcestmovies

Summary: Lizzie is introduced to a new piece of technology.

Warnings: Lizzie is a bisexual mess, and a switch, selfcest, cunnilingus, lots of self love, science going too far.

Word count: 2.3k

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“Lizzie, this is the most experimental tech in the industry right now.” My manager said as he led me to the giant door just inside the studio. “You’re one of the first people to use it.”

He opened the door and we walked in. It was a plain room, like a casting call, with a couch and a desk and a chair, but no windows, and with a very noticeable computer screen on the wall near the door.

“What is this place?”

“This, Lizzie, is the future of acting.” He walked over to the panel on the wall and the room changed right before our eyes to what looked like a sunny beach set. “You can set up a session with anyone in any setting. Pick anyone, alive or dead, and you can see them, feel them, smell them, the works.”

“Seems really weird.” I said shakily, still taken aback by the fact that the room just shifted completely around us.

“You’ll get used to it. You’ll be able to hone your craft with some of the best and brightest of our time and of our grandparents.”

I looked around the room, still apprehensive and not quite liking the idea. It seemed wrong in a way to be able to warp reality in this way. Technology seemed to be going too far for my tastes.

“Look, take your time with it. Check it out for a little while. You might end up liking it.”

He gestured to the computer panel he had previously been using and stepped towards the door.

“I’ll give you a few hours and check up on you again later, okay?”

He opened the door and slid out before I could even speak, shutting it behind him with a solid click.

I sighed, looking around at the sunny room before walking over to the computer and pressing reset. The room went back to being a regular office, couch and desk included.

“This is too weird.” I said to myself, looking at all the options on the screen.

There were options for people, places, and objects and out of curiosity, I chose people and typed my own name in.

Suddenly, there I was, standing in front of myself.

“What the fuck.” I said quietly, watching as the other me turned to look me over, a smirk appearing on her face.

“Well, well,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Look who it is.”

“There’s no way this is happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening. It’s happened with quite a few other people as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever wanted to sleep with DiCaprio?”

I shook my head.

“Well, he wanted to sleep with you! The young you, at least. Aged me down a bit first.”

“What the fuck?” Was the only thing I could think of to say.

“Yes, fuck, that’s what they all do.” She smiled. “And you’re no different, I assume?”

I stared at her - me - for a moment before snapping out of my stupor, shaking my head.

“What - no. No!” This was absurd. Surely this wasn’t happening. I was in a coma or hallucinating or something!

“Mhm.” She looked me up and down. “Why did you choose yourself? It had to be out of some weird curiosity, no?”

Why had I chosen myself? Firstly, I didn’t even think the thing would work! Second of all, who else would I have chosen? Marily-

“-lyn Monroe?”

I looked up at her in shock. She was me. She knew what I was thinking. She could probably hear my thoughts, she was probably listening to them right now.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking,” my eyes got wide. “But I’m not a mind reader. Are you?”

“No?” Was that a trick question.

“Then why would I be?”

She took a step closer to me and I watched her intently. I still couldn’t believe I was standing in front of myself.

“I’m Elizabeth Chase Olsen.”

“No you’re not. I am.” I protested.

“And so am I. Now are we gonna keep circling around the same subject or are we gonna get to why you’re really here?”

I blinked, once, twice, before I realized what she meant.

“I’m not here to fuck you - me.”

“Oh no? You’re gonna tell me you never thought about fucking yourself? What it would be like to have a twin?” She scoffed. “You’re talking to yourself. I know your fantasies. I know what you like.”

She took another step closer to me and reached out to touch me, her fingers barely grazing the skin of my cheek.

“I can feel you. And you can feel me, see?”

She fully cupped my cheek and I shivered, pulling away slightly. She smelt like me, she even felt like me - her skin the exact same as mine. How was this possible?

“It’s just me and you here. Let yourself feel good.”

I looked from her to the door and she smiled.

“Once the simulation starts, it can only be opened from the inside.”

I couldn’t deny the things she was saying. I had always imagined having a twin, jealous of my sisters at times, but I never imagined fucking myself.

Not really.

She tilted her head at me and I realized she was looking for an answer to the unspoken question that sat between us. Nobody would know and it might actually be fun, being with someone who knows exactly what feels good without having to tell them and not having to second guess myself when pleasuring them in return.

A small smile crossed my features before I nodded at her, her own smile widening at my confirmation.

“Now,” she said as she reached for the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head and tossing it aside. “Tell me how badly you want me to touch you.”

Oh, fuck, I was hot. I never got the chance to be dominant, but it was clear that not only did I have the desire to be a dom, but I was good at it.

“I want you to touch me so badly.” I finally admitted, my eyes falling to the garment on the ground before raising them to look into her own, her emerald eyes dark with desire.

I imagined mine looked identical.

She drew her bottom lip into her mouth, biting on it delicately as she ran her hands along my shoulders, her fingers hooking underneath the straps of my bra and sliding them down my arms.

She looked hungry, wanting, and I could only commend her for her patience as she undressed me slowly.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” She whispered softly, her eyes falling from mine to my exposed chest.

Did I?

“I already know the answer,” she smiled, her fingers toying with my hardening nipples. “You don’t have to answer.”

I let out a shaky breath as I watched her play with me, goosebumps forming on my skin at her touch.

“I also know you don’t want me to be gentle with you.” She twisted my left nipple painfully and I let out a whimpering cry, a jolt of pleasure shooting down between my legs.

I panted softly as she led me to the empty desk, pushing me back against it, letting me know she wanted me on top of it. I hopped up onto the sturdy wooden desk and her lips instantly latched onto one of my nipples, her teeth digging into the sensitive flesh.

“Ahh,” I breathed, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her against me. “H-harder.”

She released me with a pop and switched breasts, her tongue swirling around the nipple before she bit down on it.

“Oh, fuck.” I moaned, pulling her between my legs so I could get some friction.

Her hands gripped my thighs and I felt as though I was on fire from her touch alone. She licked and sucked at the hurt she inflicted before trailing kisses up my chest and neck, finding the sensitive spot behind my ear and making sure to give it lots of attention.

I was losing my mind. I had to get out of these pants and I needed to get fucked. Now.

I reached down to undo the button of my jeans, struggling to push them off with her firmly between my legs. With a growl, she grabbed them and tugged, pulling them off with one quick motion. I gasped as I sat in front of myself in only my panties, and knew from the look on her face I wouldn’t be wearing anything at all soon enough.

“Lift up your ass.” She said as she grabbed my panties, pulling them down my legs and bringing them up to her face to smell them. “You always loved the smell of yourself.”

She took the panties and grabbed my face, forcing my mouth open and stuffing them inside. I moaned as the smell and taste of myself filled my senses, making my head get fuzzy with thoughts of eating pussy - and getting my pussy ate.

“That’s right,” she cooed, noting the obvious look of arousal on my face. “You remember how good pussy tastes, don’t you?”

I nodded dumbly and she smiled, pushing me down to lay down on the large desk. She spread my legs and stared down at me, in awe of what she was seeing.

“You have the cutest pussy.” I clenched around nothing and she smiled. “Look at you! So hungry for me.”

I whimpered softly, grabbing at my own breasts as she got down between my legs, lapping up the wetness that was beginning to drip down my thighs. I pinched and twisted my nipples as her tongue went straight for my clit; long, hard strokes she knew would get me going.

She held my legs down and I moaned, my hips rolling to meet her tongue. Being with a woman was amazing, being with myself was divine.

She wrapped her lips around my clit and sucked while she released my left leg and brought her hand down to my pussy so her fingers could enter my aching cunt.

I wrapped my leg around her shoulders and pulled her closer to me. She hummed against me and I bit down on the panties in my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut as the most powerful orgasm of my life rocked through me.

She continued to fuck me through the delicious tremors and I came again before I could even finish processing the first one.

My legs went limp and my hands rested against my breasts, my breathing heavy as she raised herself up, licking her lips like a satisfied cat.

“Remember what pussy tastes like?” She pointed between my legs. “This is better than what you remember.”

I moaned softly, lazily reaching for her. She smiled and leaned over me, removing the panties from my mouth and kissing me ever so gently. I sucked her tongue into my mouth, eager to taste what she had already had the pleasure of tasting.

My senses were filled with the scent and taste of myself, and I honestly couldn’t get enough.

She pulled away from me and I panted softly below her, ready for whatever else she had to throw at me.

She stood in front of the desk and began to undress and I watched as she teased me, slowly revealing her perfect body to me. I gasped softly as her beautifully pale skin came into view and I couldn’t help but sit up and watch as she removed her bra, her breasts bouncing free.

I sat up fully and grabbed her by the hips, pulling her towards me as I began kissing along her shoulder, nibbling at her as I made my way down to her breasts.

She let out a little sound of pleasure as I sucked on her nipple, kneading the other breast with my free hand. She had a body worthy of worship. So, I guess, I did too.

I wanted nothing more than to have every inch of her in my mouth.

I released her breasts, a trail of saliva hanging from my lips to her nipple as I slid myself off the desk, kneeling down in front of her.

She looked surprised, maybe even amused that I was on the ground before her. I brought my face between her legs and inhaled deeply. She was right, I did love the smell of myself.

I spread her legs wider and stuck out my tongue. She took this as an invitation. Leaning against the desk, she lifted her leg to rest on my shoulder and I gasped as I realized this is what I looked like - a beautiful, glistening image of perfection.

She grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me against her, grinding herself against my face. I barely even had to do anything and she was moaning, whining, ready for release.

I raised my eyes to look at her; her brows furrowed, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, her breasts heaving. I let my tongue dip inside of her and she mewled softly, her nails scraping against my scalp.

She continued to hump my face as I fucked her with my tongue, occasionally leaving her hole to play with her clit. I held tight to her thighs, steadying us as she writhed in my grasp.

“Oh yeah, use that tongue.” She urged me on as I continued to eagerly lap at her wetness.

I flattened my tongue against her clit and she let her hips grind against me, her orgasm washing over her.

She let go of my hair, petting my head as I kept on sucking and licking at her sensitive skin, attempting to clean her up.

“You’re gonna make me cum again.” She whispered and I hummed in confirmation against her, knowing full well what I was doing.

She let out a high pitched whine as she came against my tongue again, my greedy lips kissing her pussy, taking in all of her juices.

“You’ve made such a mess.” She said softly and I smiled up a her, indeed a mess, covered in her cum.

“You’ve certainly honed your craft today, Miss Olsen.”

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