#it's like I'm standing here with my hand on the plug in

[emacrow]

The Justice League hasn't heard from John in four months. It was Zatanna who got concerned first when his phone was disconnected.

Batman found out that he died saving an important little girl named ellie from a group of drug trafficker using her as a battery. How paled zatanna was said about the girl and John's deceased body disappeared in a green portal afterward, telling him what level of apocalypse could have accurate if she had died.

Zatanna Investigating the house of mysteries was the next plan of action, considering only Zatanna and Deadman knew that house was claimed by John with an amount of cursed items, books, and every other apocalypse related items.

Zatanna was only going to place seals upon and inside the house, so nobody would attempt to enter ever, except the house wouldn't let her open the front door.

Her blood felt ice cold as she kept trying to pull the door open, but no budge.

That was where she brought the Justice league in, thinking only someone sinister and patience enough placed a claim on the house after John died because if they did.

This was a code blood moon to them. This could be the universe ending on the other side if whoever had control in the house has every cursed item, weapons, and apocalypse making ritual books imaginable that John had collected over the years.

Before J'onn could slip intangible through the house, the door opened to reveal.... Ellie?

The girl who disappeared, wearing a red beanie and a bright smile.

"Oh good, John said you all would probably come here like headless chickens. Come in!" Ellie said, leaving the door open as she floated back inside.

The Justice League and zatanna look dumbfounded before J'onn, the brave soul went in first, saying that he felt no threat.

The house of mysteries seems to have a new type of decoration done, though still very creepy. Safety baby locks, anti plug in, and a bunch of ghost related toddler toys lay around.

A very massive in height man wearing a gravity defying cloak full of stars, hair whiter then snow with constellations braids with the stars themselves sat in the couch that was obviously too much for his massive form.

A squealing little toddler wearing a soft orange jumper with purple hair giggling loudly every time he smack his tiny hands hard onto a board with a bunch of green blob in 9 holes popping out randomly like some ghost theme whack a mole.

Zatanna glanced, looking down at the little boy and then back at the familiar massive tower entity smiling softly, his stardust freckles luminous glowing green with the frozen frost crown with nebula emblems inside floating innocently on his head as her eyes widen a bit.

"Zatanna, who is this guy?" Superman said, concerned in the back. The Justice League didn't know where to go defensive mode or stand down as there was a child present.

She bowed on her knees immediately on the ground, her eyes teary up with a sense of relief.

"I greet thy infinite Realm, Danny Phan-"

"Zatanna, I told you four times in a role. It's not worth repeating my whole titles. You can call me Danny, and no, i didn't win John's soul... I merely adopted him." Danny waves his hands lightly, miniature dwarf star float around lightly before reabsorbed back in his palm.

"It took me 5 years of planning with clockwork and ellie after John helped my realms from the GIW and their plan to make my people into non-living, and living batteries, even though the Justice League had help along with disbanding them. He grew onto me and my family, and seeing what would've become his cheese grated soul after he died was a big no-no in my book." Danny said softly, Ellie popping behind from his mass of white hair.

"I helped, even though now I'm a bit younger than I am now after that whole pretend to get captured by amateur traffickers, but I'd owed constantine for that prank idea for Dan."

The Justice League awkwardly sat on the opposite couch that suddenly appeared, zatanna sitting on the floor a few feet away from John, still playing on a ghost themed whack a mole board.

"Why is John acting like this?" Zatanna asked softly, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe her moisten eyes.

"Well, with the combination added years of his much overdue life, by cheating, swindling and dealing with the Supernatural, Gods, faes, and demons alongside the amount of pushed down trauma and PTSD John accumulated in his barely to be call a soul piece after dying in a perfect way for ectoplasm to fixed all of that to made him into a halfa." Danny continues to explain softly.

"His halfa core couldn't handle the weight of it all his soul pieces put together again, especially with his main soul piece being the size of broken miniature ball even after the others entities figured out I claimed and relinquished their contracts because they know I outrank them all, but John's core couldn't handle being put together all at once like that, especially how long he was with barely much of his soul left in the end once he died."

"In a simple way, all His memories, skills and everything in each soul pieces that was taken in between like a giant block of cheese being forced into a tiny mash sieve that was his current mind and body state right now, what Frostbite explain to me." Danny explained simpler with conjuring a solid glob of ectoplasm in his left hand, being pushed in a mold of mini sieve, barely any being pushed out except a couple of glowing liquid dripping.

"John is still the same John, only at where he was his safest mind state before all those deals, trauma, and everything that resulted into what he was, then that slowly returns with time. Only he is free now." Danny finished softly smiling, watching John ripe out a oooing blob ghost from the board with a gleeful squeal, smacking it on the board with delight, his tiny legs kicking in excitement.

Part 1 here <- part 3 -> here

[ariestrxsh]

sub!virgin!matt x neighbor!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, angst, jealousy, mommy kink, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk, hair pulling, matt cums in his pants

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: after finding out that matt's ex, may, is in town, you become overwhelmed with jealousy, and you make him go down on you to get his mind off of her while his dad is downstairs

sorry that it takes me three months to write one fucking chapter 💔

dividers by @/anitalenia

Me & U

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

"You did what?" You asked Matt, standing in his bedroom after he'd just broken the news to you that May's in town, and he had gone to breakfast with her while you were stuck at work, stocking butt plugs and dildos. You shot him a glare, letting him know you weren't happy with him talking with his ex, much less meeting up with her.

"It's not a big deal. We both just needed closure," Matt shrugged, avoiding eye contact with you. "You needed closure?" You scoffed at his comment. What in the hell would he need closure with May for when he had you?

"Couples who break up don't need closure. Closure means you still care about someone and are trying to keep them in your life. Plus, you guys don't need to sit down and talk about it over fuckin' french toast! Sounds like something that could've been done over text."

Deep down, Matt knew that there was a little bit of truth to what you were saying. However, May was the one who blindsided him by showing up in his new town and making him feel obligated to go to breakfast with her.

What he didn't want to tell you is that she had begged for him back, cried in his arms after he'd told her he had a new girlfriend, and stuck him with the bill when she stormed out in the middle of the meal.

"Look. I didn't invite her here. I didn't want to go, but she sprung this on me," he explained, raising his hands in a defensive gesture.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" You crossed your arms over your chest, tightening your jaw. "I didn't know she was going to come out here until she texted me today, telling me she was in town. This is the soonest I could tell you unless you wanted me to do it over text while you were at work," Matt quietly replied, replaying the morning in his head.

You were silent for a moment, caught somewhere in the middle between wanting to ask how the meeting went and not wanting to know in case anything happened that would hurt your feelings.

"Did you tell her how good I fucked you the other night?" You inquired, raising an eyebrow as you took a step closer to him. His blue eyes flicked up to meet yours. "No.. I wouldn't tell her that kind of thing. It would upset her," Matt sternly said. That's kind of the point, you thought to yourself.

You could see the hurt in his face. You hated seeing him like this, especially over another girl. Jealousy welled up inside of you, begging for some kind of outlet. Out of nowhere, you kicked off your shoes and started undoing the button on your shorts.

"W-what are you doing?" Matt asked, looking at you wide-eyed while he watched you undress. "Helping you get over her," you casually said. "I thought you were mad at me. What is actually happening right now?" He asked, furrowing his brow but unable to take his stare off of you.

"I'm going to make you forget all about her," you responded, removing your oversized t-shirt and slipping out of your lacy underwear, tossing both carelessly on Matt's bedroom floor along with the rest of your clothes.

Matt's confused expression slowly transformed into a lustful gaze as you climbed onto his bed, laid on your back, and slowly spread open your legs. His eyes danced across your breasts and your pretty pink hole.

"My dad's downstairs.." Matt started to say, worrying that the two of you would be caught if he gave into you right now. "Then you better hope he doesn't hear us, hmm?" You replied, a smile forming on your lips as you began to rub your clit in circles.

He watched you, intrigued by what you were going to do next. Blood rushed to his cock, and it twitched to life as you let out a few soft moans. "Why don't you be a good boy and come lick it?" You gazed into his eyes, spreading your lower lips open with your two fingers to show him you were dripping with arousal.

Matt gave you a needy look and nodded, "Yes, mommy." He slowly nestled himself between your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses along the inside of each one. He teased you for a few more minutes, grazing your skin with his soft lips and his warm breath drifting over your cunt.

It wasn't long before he made direct contact with your clit, his tongue flickering over it and sending waves of desire through you. He tenderly latched onto your sensitive bundle of nerves, gently suckling as you let out a few oohs and aahs.

His tongue worked tirelessly, manipulating your delicate folds and trying to elicit as many sounds from you as he could. "Such a good boy. Mommy's so proud of how well you eat pussy," you quietly praised him, running your fingers through his hair.

He hummed against your clit, delivering ripples of pleasure through you as he delighted in your sweet words. "You sure you've never done this before?" You wondered aloud, impressed by the fact that he matched the exact technique and pressure you liked without needing any direction.

He glanced up at you for half a second, shook his head, and diverted his eyes again, growing shy from having you watch him. His cheeks grew red, and his palms started to sweat, but his tongue never faltered.

Matt wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but he'd been dreaming of burying his head between your legs from the moment he met you, and his enthusiasm about doing it was enough to have you humping his face.

"Look at me, pretty boy," you whispered, tugging on his locks of brown, and Matt's blue eyes obediently met yours as he whimpered against your sweet spot once more. "That's it. Lick it faster," you directed him, lifting your hips and grinding against Matt's skillful tongue he eagerly explored you.

With your free hand, you gripped the sheets beneath you as his perfect lips alternated between kissing and sucking on your clit. "It's hard for you to think about May when my pussy's in your mouth, isn't it?" You cooed, pushing Matt's head down until his tongue was penetrating your cunt. "Mhmm," Matt moaned and nodded while he pleased you.

Matt's hard cock starting aching while you spoke to him, and he started rutting his erection into the mattress beneath him to chase away the pressure that was building. "Good boy. The only thing you're going to think about for the rest of the day is being between my thighs. Got it?" You cooed.

"Yes, mommy," he murmured against your heat. You threw your head back and let your eyes fall shut while you relished in the velvety sensation of Matt's lips. You felt the knot in your stomach forming, threatening to snap any moment. "You're making mommy so close," you squealed, smiling and biting down on your lip.

"Who's a good boy?" You sweetly asked Matt as you peered back down at his glazed over eyes and pussydrunk expression. You felt yourself starting to relinquish control to the incredible release that started to wash over you. Your legs started to shake and close down around Matt's ears as you gripped his hair a bit more tightly with one hand and the blanket beneath you in the other.

He continued grinding against the bedding, coming undone with you as you were rolling your hips forward, riding your orgasm out to the very end. "Oh, Matthew," you whined, finishing all over his tongue while Matt finished in his jeans, delightfully moaning against your clit.

You let out a final sigh, leaning back onto Matt's pillow while you recovered from the intense feeling, but you held Matt in place with your thighs wrapped around his head. "You're my boyfriend now. And I don't want you talking to May unless it's to tell her how good I taste or how hard you cum when I ride you. Got it?" You glared down at him.

"That seems unfair. It was a three-year long rela-" Matt started to say, but you cut him off. "Matthew, what did I say?" You asked in a stern voice, tightening your grip around his head with your strong thighs. "Yes, mommy," he obediently responded. "That's what I thought you said," you told him, loosening the headlock you held him in.

The corner of his lip turned up into a smirk, secretly loving the idea of you getting possessive over him like that. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you.. jealous?" Matt wondered, standing to his feet and wiping your arousal from his chin with the back of his hand.

"I don't get jealous," you lied, rolling your eyes. "Sure, you don't. You don't get jealous, and I don't cum in my pants just from eating you out," Matt teased, peering down at the wet spot on the front of his jeans.

"Shut the fuck up," you playfully smiled at him. "It's a shame May never got to see you like this, hmm? See how easy you are to please?" You taunted him. He chuckled, picking your clothes up off the floor and tossing them onto the bed beside you.

"Even if we had ever done anything sexual, I don't think she could have ever made me cum that fast," Matt admitted, unbuttoning his pants to change out of them. You grinned in satisfaction at Matt's admission. "Good."

[pinkanonwrites]

"Oh! That's What That Does?!"

All art by @archie-sunshine

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 2400+ Words NSFW, Valveplug, Plug 'N Play, Mild Sparkplay, Accidental Stimulation, Edging, Human Reader, GN Pronouns

Ahh, the inherent eroticism of repairing your machine.~ I've had this one cooking for a while, so I hope you all enjoy! I've also gotten pretty attached to this mechanic Reader, so they'll likely pop up again with other cassettes (and maybe even some other Decepticons!)

NSFW WRITING AND IMAGERY BELOW THE CUT!

“Ey… EY! Careful wit’ dat! It’s touchy!”

“Rumble,” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You're making this way more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I wouldn't be complainin’ if you'd stop touchin’ all up on bits that don't gotta be touched! Rootin’ around in there like I'm one’a your crappy organic machines!”

Removing your hands from Rumble’s open chest, you tossed them roughly into the air. “Y'know what? Fine. Do it yourself. Better yet, get Frenzy to pull the shrapnel out of your chest. That'll go great.”

You would have slid off of Rumble’s lap and stormed off, if not for his massive servos closing around your wrists with an unexpected delicacy. Your efforts to remove your hands only reinforced his grip, using just enough force to keep you from leaving without crushing your wrists entirely.

“H-Hey, no need ta be so hasty! Look, I’m just steamed cause'a the battle, dat’s all. Frenz’ can't do dis, it's gotta be someone more… dainty. Y’know. Little human hands and all dat.” The harsh glow of his visor had dulled slightly as his gaze cast down to your hands. You rolled your eyes, wrists finally slipping from his grip as you settled back in. 

Dangling wires and sparking shrapnel dotted his open chest cavity, illuminated by the light of his spark chamber. Rumble had staggered off-balance into your workshop whining about the prodding pieces of broken metal keeping him from transforming properly, yet you’d barely managed to get two wires back in place before he started squirming and whingeing and slinging verbal abuse at you.

 Not that you weren't used to it, any interactions with Rumble and Frenzy usually involved some level of bullying. Fortunately, the two cassettes are also incredibly predictable. As soon as you would threaten to take away or withhold what they're asking for, they’d start falling all over themselves with apologies and placations. After all, you may not have been the only mechanic in the area, but you were certainly their favorite.

“Are you going to actually let me work? Or are you going to start yelling at me again?”

“Yellin’? Who's yellin’? Yer the mechanic here, my spark is in your squishy little hands. Do your magic, doc.” He sat back again, servos clutching the edges of your workbench in a show of effort, a genuine attempt to keep them still (or however genuine any show of rule-following from Rumble could be.)

“That's what I thought. Now let me actually fix a few things before you start whining again.” Your gloved hands dipped back into his chest cavity, skirting the edges of his spark chamber to pick away at the bits of loose shrapnel stuck in some of the wires. His frame shuddered, a hiss of steam escaping through his dentae as your knuckles brushed the underside of the spark casing.

“C-Careful,” He said again, with significantly less bite to his tone.

“Does it hurt?”

“Somethin’ like dat.”

“I'll be careful, so let me know if it gets to be too much.” You smoothed a palm down the armor covering his stomach, flinching back when you heard another sharp hiss of steam.

“I’m fine! It's fine! Just… do ya gotta be all on top’a me like dis?”

“I can't reach properly if you're laying down. If you're standing you might keel over on me, and I really don't feel like being squished to death today.” He let out a low grumble as you jacked another cable back into its proper port. “I'll try to be quick, that way you won't have to worry about my ‘human germs’ and you can get outta here. Deal?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just-”

“Be careful. I know.”

And with that you went to work, separating and organizing cables, taping off leaky tubing and removing pieces of scrap metal as gently as you could. Every once in a while Rumble would jerk or twitch beneath your touch, letting out a muffled curse or huff but sparing you from his usual complaints. It was… uncharacteristically quiet, for sure. This was the most extensive repair you'd ever done on him, though, so maybe he was just having surgery jitters.

“Okay, I've gotten most of the shrapnel out. But there's a piece right behind your spark casing.”

“Well? Get it outta there!”

“I'm going to, but I need to get my whole hand in there. I'm warning you now because it's going to be bumping up against your spark casing a lot. I'm going to do my best but you have to tell me if it hurts too much.”

Rumble let out a long, pathetic groan. “Actually doc, maybe you can just leave dat one in there? F-For funsies?”

“Eh?! Rumble, I’m not gonna just ‘leave it in there’! It's gotta come out.”

“Something's gonna come out if you keep proddin’ around in there like dat…”

“What was that?”

“Gh! Nothin’! Don't worry ‘bout it!”

“...Okay. I’m gonna start now. Are you ready?” Rumble only responded with gritted dentae and a tense nod. Working your gloved hand under his spark chamber, you could feel the ambient energy making the hairs on your arm stand on end as you felt for the jagged edge of broken metal. Your glove blocked your view entirely, so you were left blindly groping your way up the metal surface, feeling for anything bent or out of place. When your fingers could no longer reach any further while still avoiding the casing, you slid forward and ducked slightly into Rumble’s open chest, the back of your hand pressing up against the underside of his spark chamber.

CLANG!

You jumped, and if it weren't for Rumble’s arm wrapping around you and almost crushing you into his open chest you may have jostled the sensitive chamber even further. You slid your hand back again, easing off of the reinforced glass, and his grip receded.

“What the hell was that? And what was that clang?”

“I said don't worry ‘bout it!” He hissed, voice glitchy with static. “Everythin’s totally normal, I dunno why you're getting all jumpy ‘bout- MMNGH?!” You moved your hand up again into the same position, and Rumble let out an embarrassingly high whimper. You glanced up at his face, a flush of pink behind the usual grey and beading with coolant… and something clicked.

“Oh my God are you getting off on this?”

“N-No!”

Behind you you heard a sharp snikt, and the sound of pressurizing hydraulics.

“...Maybe?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“H-Hey, don't go gettin’ a big head or nothin’! A bot’s spark chamber is sensitive! Don't go thinkin’ this is cause of your squishy frame or your soft little digits or nothin’!” He seemed to almost shrink in on himself, face plate practically glowing as his shoulders pulled up around his helm. You'd never say it to his face, but he looked surprisingly… small, at this moment. You heaved an exhausted sigh.

“Okay. Okay. I'm going to get this last piece out, alright? It's the last one. And whatever happens while I'm doing that..? It just happens. We won't bring it up again, no need to be embarrassed. Deal?”

“‘Deal?!?’” He squawked, positively scandalized. “How do I know yer not gonna gossip with Frenz’ the next time he's in for a tune-up?”

“Well Frenzy usually never lets me get a word in edgewise, first of all.” You huffed. This was way more than you'd signed up for. “I'm not going to make fun of you, Rumble. Let’s just get you patched up, then you can head home. Okay?”

His mouth was pulled into a tight, wobbly frown as he glanced down at you, choking out a single word. “...Promise?”

“I promise.”

“...Slag. alright, let's get dis over with.” He lolled his head back against the table with a clank, resigning himself to his fate. This time, when your knuckles brushed his spark casing, he couldn’t stifle his soft moan. Your fingers felt further and further up, until almost your entire hand was behind the glass bubble containing his pulsing spark. Finally, you could feel the jagged piece of metal. You wrapped your fingers around it and gave it an experimental tug. It stuck fast, and your hand bumping against Rumble's spark only pulled another surprised moan from him.

“W-Watch it!” He yelped, sounding too fucked-out to come across as actually threatening.

“It's really stuck in there. I'm going to start working it out, so let me know if you need me to stop.”

“Wh… workin’ it out? Whadda ya- ohhh…~” 

With your thumb and forefinger gripping the edge of the broken metal, you began to wiggle it gently back and forth to ease it from the plating and wires around it. Each time you moved the back of your hand rubbed up against the far side of his spark chamber, warmth radiating through your glove as Rumble started to vent more harshly.

“Slag… slag! Don't think it's ever been touched back there before. Feels… feels crazy.” He moaned. The metal of your work table shrieked and crumpled like cardboard under his iron grip, desperate to keep his servos off of himself or, Primus forbid, you. The piece stuck firm, and as you braced your other hand against the outside paneling of his chest to readjust your balance he let out a sharp, staticky yelp. “S-STOP!”

You froze immediately. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

A few shuddering vents were your only response for a moment, Rumble’s visor lights flickering frantically as he tried to steady himself. “Whooo… Almost blew my top for a second there.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Yer the one that told me to tell ya if I need ya to stop! I'll be slagged to the Pit before I let some ‘squishy’ run my charge like dat.”

“...Can I start again? I’m making some progress here.”

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Yer good.”

You let out another soft sigh, trying to focus on the rhythmic sktch sktch sktch of metal on metal rather than Rumble’s shivering whines. His vocalizer pitched and warbled with static, attempts to stifle his own words slowly giving way to a deluge of fucked-out babbles.

“Ah! Gh! Ohh, mmnh, stupid little hands feelin’ all- nnh!~ Jus’ get it outta there! Please?”

I’m working on it. You’re doing good, just hang in there.” Your placations only resulted in another desperate moan. After what couldn’t have been more than another thirty seconds or so, he blurted out again.

“Ah! Stop!”

You retracted your hand for a moment, letting Rumble gasp for breath above you in a futile attempt to cool his core. You rubbed at his chest paneling as he shivered beneath you hard enough that you thought bolts were going to start coming undone. Even the paneling you were seated upon was burning up, heat seeping through the fabric of your coveralls. His glowing face plate was slick with coolant. Without thinking, you reached up and swept away a bead of it with your thumb, making him jump.

“H-Hey, quit dat…” He groaned, all bite lost from his tone.

“Rumble… The more you keep stopping me the longer this is going to take.”

“You think I don’t know dat?!” One of his arms draped dramatically over his face. “I’m tryin’! But you just keep pokin’ around in there and it’s all touchy and it’s makin’ me feel like my spike’s gonna burst and I can’t take it anymore!” He sniffled. Could Cybertronians even sniffle? You weren’t sure, but he sounded close to tears.

“Rumble… Have you ever actually edged yourself before?”

“Whu- Whuh? How’s dat any of yer business?”

“I’m just thinking…” You ran a placating hand down his shivering plating. “If you haven’t it can be really overwhelming, and-”

“I can handle it! I-I can!”

“Let me finish. It can be really overwhelming, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself further. Just… take a deep breath for me, okay?” You took a slow, steadying breath, and after a second he mimicked it. “Good. Just think about letting go, okay? I’m not going to judge you. Just think about it.”

He let out a low, pitying grumble, peeking at you from behind his arm plating. “...You can start again.”

Once again, your hands dipped into his chest cavity. Only this time you slid both hands up behind his spark casing, gripping as much of the broken metal as you could reach. As you rocked it back and forth Rumble’s moans returned with a fervor, one servo finally flying to cup your lower back.

“Ah! Ah! Slag, oh slag please! Please don’t stop I’m so fraggin’ close.” He fisted the back of your uniform, crumpling the cheap fabric between his digits. “C’mon, c’mon c’mon c’mon I need it!”

“Shh, I’ve got you baby. Just let it happen.”

With a metallic shriek and a gush of brackish oil the shrapnel popped free, the force enough to send you sprawling if not for Rumble’s servo in the small of your back. Of course, said unexpected force also slammed the backs of both your hands right into the underside of his spark chamber, and Rumble’s voice box screeched into a wail of radio static. Something hot and sticky splattered up the back of your coveralls; said something you decidedly were not going to look at until later. His frame rattled and shivered beneath you, steam venting and joints glitching and spark pulsating a near-blinding glow.  Finally, after a burst of noise and sparks and twitching, he went slack beneath you, helm clanking against the workbench as his optics flickered.

As delicately as you could, you removed the oil-slick shrapnel and let it clatter onto the floor before shedding your gloves and dabbing at his face plate with the cuff of your sleeve. With the whir of an old monitor blipping back to life, his visor blinked back up to its standard brightness.

“Whuh… Wheh?” He garbled.

“How you feeling, hun?”

“Like I got struck by lightnin’... but in like a nasty way.”

You choked back a snort. “Well, I’ve got all the worst of it over with. Feel free to rest for a while if you need it. I’m gonna go change my jumpsuit.” 

He let you slide off his lap without a fight, not even commenting until you’d turned around to make your way over to your office. Only then did he let out a low, salacious whistle when he’d finally caught sight of the back of your uniform.

“Comm me next time yer free, doc. Then I can repay da favor.”

[eraserbread]

more older married!satosugu since u guys seem to like it lol. part 1 ,part 3

it's hard to explain, but they're just on the same wavelength. older married!satosugu will do absolutely anything for you, no matter the burden. like clockwork, they tick for you.

it'll be right on the ten-minute mark when their familiar black sedan rolls in front of a row of apartments. you've been standing in the same spot, just like gojo asked when you called him for help. as you walk forward, their dark-tinted windows make it impossible to see inside until the passenger slowly begins descending.

it's so fucking embarrasing and you'd never admit it, but seeing them again like this makes you whine.

suguru, bedhead everywhere, still smiling so sweet with satoru's long ass hand on the top of his thigh. aching for attention always, satoru leans past his husband's figure, beaming an 'i'm so happy to see you' type of smile. you wish you could see his equally as expressive eyes, but they're covered behind expensive sunglasses. he must have had an exhausting day to keep them on at night.

"hello, dear!"

"you look absolutely freezing, get in." for once, satoru's being the strict one, but he can't hide the excitement in his voice when he sees you again. its been days since you three have been together. unfortunately, it'd have to be in the dead of night.

"both of you didn't have to come." you drag, unlocking the back passenger door and slipping inside the warm car. It's always so clean in here, it amazes you.

"c'mon." satoru peeks over at you through the rearview, finally pulling his glasses just enough for you to see the shadow of blue under his light, long eyelashes. "you know who you're talking to, right?"

which is why it's no fucking surprise when satoru ends that night with your back on his chest, knees pressed to your shoulders and falling the fuck apart on suguru's cock.

his name is on your lips -- yours on his, suguru's on yours. it's a filthy mess of sex-stained endearances, breathing life into your very soul.

"say it." satoru growls in your ear, wound extra tight from being confined to his grey sweatpants. he feels it, though - every thrust, like he's inside of you. he wants to be inside of you "fucking, say it. whose the one fucking you, hm?"

he knows how you get when you're like this -- so slurred and frazzled that words just don't compute the way he needs him to. talking is always the most important thing for them, so they end up drifting into each other.

"s-su-g...uru get-o,"

"well, kinda." satoru's teeth graw at the shell of your ear, hungry for something else with the feeling of you grinding on his erection. "'s my fucking pretty ass husband."

"gojo, stop." geto's beaming like a prize as the sun rises through the bedroom windows. wet hair sticking to his back and pajama pants still hanging on his right ankle.

except, gojo continues. he digs harder, chewing on a mouthful of your hair as he speaks. "my geto-chan, suguuuu, my baby. our baby."

"mmh, okay. okay -- i get it."

"say it. 's your sugu... geto-kun - fuck me, geto-kun."

gojo's fingers are pressing your tongue, so all you can do is moan dumbly against the slim digits. either way, it drives suguru crazy.

you look up and feel the look in his eyes, one so hungry and vibrant as he stares between the two of you. everything's wet -- everyone's a sticky mess, but he still leans down and kisses you through his orgasm.

"told you to stop or you'll make me cum." suguru's eerily competent for just plugging you full of it. he trails messy lips from sucking gojo's face to kissing and biting all over yours.

it's usually how this goes, you end up remembering one sexual encounter more than the other. when you told them this, they were more than happy to switch places each time.

since satoru went first, suguru gets to go first this time.

somehow easing his sweats off his waist in your sex-fueled haze, he slips inside of your messy cunt. you're too fucked to moan, so you whimper when you finally cum.

"...so fulla shit.." satoru moans in your ear, gagging you deeper on his fingers. on top, geto reaches to wipe sweat from his brow, shaking his head because he knows what satoru is about to say.

"you said gojo stop." satoru mocks, kissing your cheek as he pulls his fingers from your slack lips. "now, don't you say that, darling. gojo's just getting started."

"she hates your stupid jokes, 'toru..."

[kleftiko]

❦ CHERRY SMOKE CLOUDS

“upon learning that your new plug is a virgin, you come up with a new way to pay for your weed”

cw: slight dubcon (sex under the influence), virginity loss (choso), car sex, corruption kink, unprotected sex, blowjobs

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

You met Choso through your little sister's friend.

Without knowing Megumi and Yuji were over, you started ranting to Nobara about how your plug was moving across the country, and it was a travesty. When she gave you edibles, she packed them in cute little heart baggies, and you were never gonna find another one as good as her.

It wasn't until you turned the corner that you saw her and her two friends lounging on the couch.

Luckily, Yuji spoke up, telling you his brother grows and you could get from him.

That got you his number, and having known Yuji, you expected his brother to be a much more enthusiastic texter. You hardly expected one- to two-word responses, absolutely no emojis, and a period at the end of a sentence.

But if it got you what you wanted, you were fine with that.

Most transactions were made through Yuji or Nobara, and despite the lack of customer service that you got from your old plug, his stuff was good, so you couldn't complain.

Then, one day, Yuji messaged you, saying he was having a party at his place and you should come meet his brother. You didn't see why not, so you and Nobara got dressed up together and went.

It was unsurprising that there were a lot of people—Yuji loved making friends, after all—so it took a minute to find him. But he had a wide smile when he saw you two, giving you hugs and telling you his brother was in the garage.

You didn't have to excuse yourself cause your sister was already gone by the time you turned back, so you made your way to the garage.

Inside, there was only one person. A taller man with longer hair who was taking stuff out of the trunk of a car, and when he turned to you, you noticed his tired eyes looking at you. He was cute.

"What?" He asked.

"Choso?" You asked, and he nodded. You smiled a bit and said, "Y/N."

A look of recognition flashed across his face.

"Yuji told me you'd be coming." He then lifted the box in his arms slightly, as if to show you the alcohol. "Leave it to my brother to think a six-pack would be enough for a party."

You couldn't help the amused hum that passed your lips as your gaze traced the strained muscles in his arms.

"Want some help?"

After the two of you brought in a couple cases of liquor, you followed him back to the garage. Besides your sister and her friends, you didn't know anyone, and you figured at least Choso would have some weed on him if nothing else.

He leaned against his car and fished a lighter out of his pocket before looking at you and holding it up as an invitation. You smiled and moved to stand in front of him as he took out a case from his other pocket, placing the joint from inside between his lips.

"You don't wanna hang out with your brother?" You asked as he lit it.

Choso just raised an eyebrow at you, blowing out the smoke slowly and drawing your eyes to his lips.

"You don't wanna hang out with your sister?" He retaliated casually, holding out the blunt for you.

With a couple puffs of your own, you shift your weight onto your other leg. Choso's soft gaze stays on you, waiting for you to continue.

"Why smoke out here?" You asked, and he shrugged.

"Not a fan of people." He explained, and you gave him a look. He shakes his head, "don't make it seem like I'm a loner; I just don't wanna hang out with my younger brother's friends."

"Not a fan of younger people?" You don't give him time to answer before you say, "pretty sure I'm younger than you."

"You're fine." It's casual in the way he says it, but it does something to you, and you end up shifting again when he hands you the blunt.

His eyes flicked down to your legs, taking notice of your movement. "Wanna sit?"

Choso patted the hood of the car beside him as an offer, and you looked at his fingers sitting on top of the metal. They were long and lanky, with prominent veins running through his hand and up his arm. It led you back to his face, which is waiting for your answer.

So you hopped on top of the hood, taking one more puff than is courteous, but Choso didn't say anything as he took it back.

It was a couple minutes of silence; the two of you smoked until it was just the filter, and Choso threw it away. You started to feel the familiar feeling of your head becoming heavier—or, you were just more aware of the weight of it—and you sank back onto your hands with contentment.

"So, were you just here for the weed?" Choso's voice was pretty monotone, but you could tell he was making a joke.

A small giggle escaped your lips as you noticed the red creeping up in his tired eyes.

"I mean, I won't say no if you wanna share another, but I think hanging out with you is fine by itself." You admitted, and he shook his head at you.

A couple blinks was all it took to remind you that he really did grow some good shit, and you grabbed the bottom of his shirt to tell him the compliment when you looked up at his face and forgot your train of thought.

Instead, you tugged on his shirt and coaxed him to stand in front of you as you tilted your head up at him.

"You don't look like what I thought you would." You drawled out.

"What'd you expect?" He prompted.

You pouted, "pink hair."

Choso let out a soft chuckle, and you almost melted at the sight of his smile. Unintentionally, you leaned closer to him, your eyes focused on the bridge of his nose, where you noticed a faint scar that ran across it. With your noses almost touching, you looked up into his eyes, admiring the way they locked onto you.

"You're hotter than I thought." You mumbled, and his eyebrows raised slightly.

Choso pulled back.

"If you think this'll get you free stuff, you're outta luck."

You giggled and let go of his shirt, leaning back onto your hands with a lazy smile.

"I'd tell you that even if you weren't my plug." You said. "Though, I'm sure a lot of your customers offer favours instead of money."

Once again, he shook his head at you, his smile mirroring yours. You let your head fall back, feeling the stretch in your neck as you stared at the ceiling.

"Wouldn't blame you, sex while high is incredible."

"I wouldn't know." He said and you snapped your head at him.

"You've never had sex after smoking?"

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you understand what he was saying.

"You've never had sex?" You clarified, and Choso shakes his head in agreement, unbothered by it.

"Never had the time." He explained, and at the back of your clouded mind, you recalled Nobara mentioning that Yuji was raised by his older brother.

You slid off the car, standing toe to toe with Choso as you looked up at him. He didn't move, and you could smell his cologne and soft hints of weed.

"Do you wanna know what it's like?" You whispered, gazing up at him through your lashes.

The thought that you could give this man everything made that small pulse of arousal that's been sitting between your legs light on fire. As you stared into Choso's eyes, a mischievous smile played on your lips. The anticipation of what you could do with him sent a rush of excitement through your body.

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Choso bent down and attached his lips to yours.

He tasted smokey, but it didn't bother you as you brought your hands up into his messy hair. His large hands travelled down your sides and roughly pulled you closer to him. Your knee bumped between his legs, and he uttered a deep moan into your mouth.

Detaching yourself from him, you grabbed his shirt and tugged him to switch places with him, pushing his legs into the hood of his car and forcing him to sit atop it.

Your hands then moved to his jeans as you kissed him again, undoing the button and zipper as you bit his lips. Choso let out a little whine, shakey fingers grasping at your own shirt when you stuck your hand down his pants and cupped his half-hard cock. As you stroked him, you scattered kisses and bites down his neck and along his jaw, leaving nothing to catch the hisses he let out of his mouth in response to your attack. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as his breathing grew heavier. The intensity of the moment heightened as you whispered in his ear, teasing him with promises of what was to come.

Then you sank your knees onto the concrete floor between his legs, pulling down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his cock and balls, your mouth watering at the size.

As you looked up into his eyes, you gently licked his red tip and watched him shut his eyes in pleasure, his hand coming to the top of your head. Then you took him to the back of your throat, eliciting a loud and wanton moan from the man above you. Despite slapping his other hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, you felt a shiver at the noise, knowing that you were driving him wild with something so simple. With each movement of your mouth, you could feel his grip on your hair tighten, urging you to go deeper. The intensity of the moment consumed both of you as you lost yourself in the intoxicating pleasure of giving him ecstasy. His dick was slobbered with your spit, and besides the faint music coming from the house, the garage was filled with the disgusting sounds of you slurping and choking on his cock and Choso's beautiful stuttering noises of bliss.

Your eyes rolled back at the taste of him; the salty precum and weight of his dick on your tongue had you rocking your neglected pussy into your heel. When his moans and whimpers started to catch at the back of his throat, you cupped his heavy balls in your hands, gently massaging them as you continued to pleasure him. The intensity of the moment heightened as you felt his body tense and his breathing become more erratic, signalling that he was about to cum. With a mischievous smile, you increased the speed and pressure of your movements, determined to push him over the edge and make him lose control completely.

The grip on your hair tightened as he let out a guttural groan, his hips bucking uncontrollably against your touch. The raw desire in his eyes fueled your own excitement, and you revelled in the power you had over him in the moment. As he finally reached his climax, you continued to stroke him through his release, savouring the feeling of his pulse against your tongue and his cum running down your throat.

His tired eyes were glazed with lust when you popped him out and stood up. His chest was breathing heavily, but that didn't stop him from grabbing your face and pulling you into a searing kiss, licking up the drops of his cum that slipped from your lips. You moaned at his eagerness to clean his own grime from your face and ran your hands down his clothed body, fingernails scraping along his muscles as they twitched.

"Please," He begged between kisses. "Please fuck me."

You pulled away, looking at the man in front of you with hunger.

"Back seat." You commanded, and Choso listened to you.

The two of you stumbled to the car, pawing at each other as you removed your clothes. By the time you shut the door behind you, the two of you were in your underwear. Choso was hard once again as you mounted him.

Taking off your bra, his eyes locked onto your tits before eagerly going for them with his mouth. but you grabbed his hair and pulled him back. He nearly whimpered at the denial, but you were firm.

"I need to see your face when I take your virginity, baby." You told him.

Choso nodded his head and helped you two rid yourself of the last bit of clothing. Grabbing his cock, you lined it up with your soaking lips as Choso's fingers fluttered over your hips in anticipation. You looked at him, only to find his watery eyes locked on your pussy as he swallowed harshly. You were sure that if you led him on any longer, he would start crying.

"Choso," your sweet voice cooed.

When he locked eyes with yours, you sheathed yourself over his cock, watching firsthand as his mouth dropped open and his eyes rolled back as a broken moan pushed past his lips. It was filthy and erotic, and it made you lift your hips and slam back down onto him just to see his reaction again. His body trembled beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through him. The intensity of the moment fueled your own desire, igniting a primal need to dominate and explore every inch of his body.

"That feel good, baby?" You asked, knowing he couldn't answer. "Feel good to get fucked in the back of your car?"

Choso whimpered.

You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his ear, as you whispered, "You love being used like this for your first time, don't you?"

The sound of his desperate moans only fueled your attack further, pushing you to take him even harder.

"Your cock feels so good inside me, Choso." You continued to enjoy his reactive body. "so big, I don't think I can just fuck you once."

In his first bout of control, Choso grabbed the back of your head and shut you up with a kiss, hips lifting against yours in desperation.

"So fucking perfect." He managed to huff out, and you rewarded him with a squeeze of your pussy, making him lose the rhythm of his thrusts. The intensity of the moment heightened as Choso's grip tightened on your head, his kiss silencing your words. With each desperate thrust of his hips, he struggled to maintain the little bit of control he had.

He managed to gasp, overcome with the pleasure you were giving him, "You're absolutely incredible." The squeeze of your pussy caused him to lose his rhythm, further intensifying the passion between you.

You smiled wickedly and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Yea?" You asked. "Wanna cum inside me?"

It was as if a switch had been flipped. His eyes darkened with desire, and a primal growl escaped his lips. Without hesitation, he grasped your hips firmly and increased the pace, thrusting into you with an urgency that matched your own. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and you let out your own noises of pleasure at Choso's actions.

Feeling your climax near, you dug your nails into his bare chest, urging him on. The intensity of the moment consumed both of you as you reached the peak of pleasure together, lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy. Spurts of his cum painted the inside of you, making you moan at the feeling before collapsing against him, sweaty bodies entangling. For a long moment, heavy breathing was the only sound in the hot car. As the air slowly cooled, you both basked in the afterglow.

With a satisfied smile, Choso gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and whispered, "That was incredible."

You breathed out a laugh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and cuddling into him.

"Yea," you agreed. "We need to smoke together more often."

[teddybeartoji]

neighbor!toji finds you sitting in front of your apartment door late at night as he's coming home and at first, he's really not planning on saying anything. he still doesn't know you, he hasn't talked to you – the most you've gotten is a look and a nod whenever you happen to take the elevator with him or when you just bump into him on your way out. and he really isn't the type to make small talk but with your knees pulled to your chest and your head rested on top of your hands, you look miserable and toji finds it very hard to ignore you.

he keeps stealing glances at your curled up figure as he searches for the keys in his pocket and it's only when he's got the door open, he swallows the weird lump in his throat.

"y'wanna come inside?" his voice is raspy, tired, but it does the job of luring you out of your little bubble.

there's a moment of silence.

toji isn't stupid, he knows the dangers of the world and it doesn't take him long to realize how strange his offer might sound. his eye twitches out of sheer embarrassment as he averts his gaze, rough fingers fidgeting with the keys in his hand.

"that would be really nice actually, yeah."

there's no suspicion in your tone, nothing that would indicate that you're thinking what he's thinking. toji's mossy green eyes meet yours and he's met with a look he knows all too well.

exhausted.

"just so i can charge my phone?" you're already trying to apologize for yourself. to tell him that you'll only stay for as long as you need, afraid that you're bothering him.

but he just gives you a hum, patiently waiting for you to push yourself off the ground. for a moment, you stand next to him in front of the door, waiting for him to step inside first but when he gestures to go in before him, you don't argue with him. your hushed 'thank you' doesn't go unheard.

his apartment is tidy. probably even more so than your own. it looks surprisingly cozy – the light isn't a big, bright one but a dimmed down one instead and the sight of his big couch makes you let out a soft sigh. from the corner of his eye, toji observes you. he hasn't had anybody over in a long time and now here you are.

he tells you to take off your shoes and to take a seat while he goes to look for a charger, giving you the perfect opportunity to take a better look around the place – dvd's, old magazines and newspapers, a few movie posters and one singular plant. it's not a lot but it still feels like a good home.

at the sound of his voice, you snap out of your thoughts. your fingers brush against one another as you take the charger from him with another 'thank you'. a

"you're not going to kill me or anything though, right?"

...

for a man his size and his age, he feels a bit small under your gaze. you're blunt more than anything and he's just a little caught off-guard by your question.

"no."

"that's good."

you break the eye-contact to look for a place to plug in the charger and he feels relieved. "you feel safe."

you say it like it's nothing.

"i wouldn't've accepted the offer from anyone else, i think. well, maybe from the lady across the hall but then again, she'd just scold me for being up so late and i'm way too tired for that."

the words slip from your lips as if they're light as air while toji needs a second to really hear you, to know that he isn't making you uncomfortable. that in your eyes, he isn't scary or threatening in any shape or form. perhaps you're just naive for putting your trust into a stranger like this but toji still can't help but feel a little warm inside.

he doesn't say anything and you don't mind his silence. you do thank him a third time and let your lips curl into a proper smile when he almost unintentionally raises his brow at you – like it's weird that you're doing that.

he ends up bringing you a glass of water before joining you on the couch, both of your eyes set on the tv screen and the show that plays on it as you eakt for your phone to come alive again.

it doesn't feel wrong to just be with him like this.

it's right enough for you to let your exhaustion sneak up on you. your eyelids grow heavy without you even realizing it and then you're already dozing off on your neighbor's couch.

your quiet snores are so unfamiliar, the mere idea of somebody being able to fall asleep in his presence so surreal that he's left sitting there dumbfoundedly. regardless, he reaches for a blanket before throwing it over your body ever so carefully and turns down the volume of the tv as to not disturb you.

a stranger, a neighbor. somebody, who makes him feel a bit more alive. a silly comment, a blunt reply. a smile and a thank you.

a push to keep on going.

[nor-4]

Soooo Anxious

Oscar Diaz x Reader

It's been a really hot day the degree keeps increasing definitely because of climate change, those damn uncaring did this if only they cared more about the earth.

Good thing you are nice enough to make a Popsicles and snacks for everyone outside since they nag oscar to hang out and fix Oscar's car.

"God why is it so hot outside, I think I'm about to evaporate." Jamal squealed as he roughly swing the fan around, "Boy if you don't shut your mouth I wi-" Oscar was cutted off when you slam the door with you foot as you carry a tray of foods with both of your hands.

"Oh cesar you didn't told me you will be having your friends over." You said luckily you have more popsicles inside as you didn't include Jamal and the others on the list, "I didn't even know, they just passed by." Cesar stated receiving a smack from monse.

"Who's that?? She's so hot.." Jamal whispered as he scooted over to cesar as he eye you up and down, "I know right." Ruby popped out out of nowhere they arrived with him here but they just forgot him.

"If I were you I will not even say that." Cesar said as he catch a glimpse of his brother giving a side eye on Jamal and Ruby. He for sure knew what they said.

"Monse, Jasmine, dear I'm so happy you guys are here." you happily squealed as you walk near cesar to do a beso with monse and jasmine. Monse is like a little sister for you, you are the first person she run to everytime she has this girl problems, same goes jasmine. You are just old to be their sister, a sister that will have a girls night with them.

As for jamal and ruby they were quietly waiting for you to approach them and also do a beso on them but instead you just shook their hands, even though they are still grateful.

"Good thing i made more popsicles, wait.." As you started walking again inside as the two horny boys watch you walk with agape mouth, looking at your clothing which really fit your body. It will for sure make every man's hungry eyes full.

"Oy cesar, what this little friends of your staring for." Oscar said standing up from sitting on the small chair he own to use everytime he fix his wheels. "What who's staring, hey monse stop staring it's bad." jamal said nervously slapping over monse's arms earning a slap back from her.

"Been telling them that." cesar just shrugged walking to get a popsicle since heat have been bothering him since this morning, "You little putas better stop eye fucking my girl before i pull them out." oscar threatened as he started washing his hands so he can eat.

"Stop acting like a bitch in heat now oscar." You scolded as you handed out the popsicles on everyone, "Come on ma I'm just saying." oscar sighed in defeat.

Cesar still can't believe on how you can scold over oscar, he knows scolding on him is not a thing he would even tolerate. But look at you, you just make everything so peaceful by shutting oscar up.

"Here baby sit infront of the fan, it's been really smoking hot lately." Oscar offered quickly as he plugged the electric fan that jamal didn't even know it's there until oscar plugged it, "Thank you darling." You thanked as you touch his bicep after sitting on the chair.

"God she sound so hot, i wish she would call me that." ruby murmured as they sat comfortably infront of them watching oscar reach for a chair from God knows where and sat beside you.

"I swear this kids better stop looking at your boobs" oscar murmured as he stared back at jamal and ruby who was to focused on you, to shut oscar up from saying something about violent stuff you started feeding him with fries you made because you were craving.

"You made this? It's really good." jasmine asked as she almost choked from swallowing it all the way without even chewing it, good thing monse has a heavy hands to slap Jasmine's back.

"Yes i did, thank you.." You said it made you a bit shy but you love it when someone praises your cooking skills, "Do you want a drink monse? I heard the temperature will get higher later, you need to be hydrated." Cesar asked as he placed a hand on monse's shoulder.

"Yes please." Monse said as cesar quickly stood up to get a drink on the kitchen, "Get my queen some too" oscar commanded as you smack his face.

"You're being too cringe you know."

"Come on, i cannot care for my girl now?"

"Do you want me to tie your hair up?" Oscar asked again but this time more sincere than his sarcadm earlier, "Yes please baby, thank you." You said as your back faced oscar to tie your hair up.

It took a long time for oscar to learn on how to tie your hair so everytime it's getting hot you wouldn't even need to do an effort to tie your hair, plus oscar always carry two of your hair ties on his wrist just in case you forgot one.

After tying your hair up he kissed you shoulder like a light weight of feather which made both of you giggled like a high school teenagers as you face him, oscar used to be a not so affectionate significant others. But by the time being on a relationship with you he learned that it's very important to do, it's his favorite language of love.

He loves to touch you feel you in his hands, to hug you on a cold night, to hold you when you feel sad, to hold you and make you know that nothing can really change his love for you.

Another thing is he used his confidence to compliment you every second, to assure you, to tell you how much he loves you how much you meant to him.

"God I've never been more jealous in my life.." ruby murmured as he sadly munch on his burger.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Ruin

Alexia Putellas x Pre-Teen!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Pre-Teen!Reader

Summary: Your guardians fight for custody

You had dealt with lawyers before.

You had dealt with case workers before.

Nearly your whole life in the system meant you were familiar with both.

Seeing them never got easier as you sit outside the meeting room, hunched over as you stare at the phone battery that's rapidly depleting.

You'd plugged it in to charge last night but it hadn't.

The wire's been faulty for a while now, one of those chargers that you have to move to the right angle to make sure it works.

You suppose it must have moved in the night.

You can just about hear the low murmur of conversations if you strain your ears but you don't.

You don't want to hear what they're saying.

"Drink? Food?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

You turn away from your case worker, angling your body as far away as you can get without falling off your seat.

She'd been responsible for you for eleven years, right back to when you were a baby and your first set of parents had their rights terminated. You thought last year would be the last you would see of her.

"I'm fine," You insist.

"It's okay not to be."

"I know that. It still doesn't change the fact that I'm fine."

You both know you're lying.

She knows you well enough to not bring it up again, merely offering you a few of the hard boiled sweets from the reception desk.

"They won't decide anything without your input, you know."

"They're adults," You say dismissively," That's all they ever do."

"You're twelve now. Your wishes are taken into account."

"Only if it goes to court. Only in front of a judge. If they sign an agreement here and now, they don't have to talk to me about it."

Your caseworker looks like she wants to say something but a bang of a table has her stopping.

Jenni's voice in the meeting room is raised and Alexia's rises to meet it.

The fractures in the relationship were already there by the time you arrived. Small at first but steadily growing bigger and bigger.

You hadn't known it at the time but you know it now.

You had been adopted to salvage their relationship.

It's what a lot of people did. Have a child in the hope that it would bring the relationship together again.

It had worked, for a short while but the cracks hadn't healed. They'd simply been painted over for a little while. All it had taken was a little rock of the foundations, a little change in the norm.

They always came back and soon Alexia and Jenni were arguing where they thought you couldn't hear them and driving separately to practice.

Now, Jenni was moving to Mexico and the tender hooks they were on were failing.

You were hanging on a cliff and they were too busy arguing to notice your grip slipping, ready to plummet into the abyss below.

"You're not taking my daughter from me!"

You stand, unwilling to hear anymore.

"I'm going to the toilet."

It's a single stall, a door lock that you use as soon as you're inside.

You sit on the toilet lid, willing your shaking hands to stop as you clench them into fists. Your fingernails dig into the soft flesh until you're almost certain you've broken skin.

You hate this.

You hate the lawyers and their cool indifference towards you.

You hate your caseworker and her faux sympathy.

You hate Alexia and Jenni for putting you in this situation in the first place. You hate them for thinking a child would salvage an already broken relationship. You hate that they've made you their daughter. You hate that they've tied themselves into you in a way that you can't get away from.

Your phone dies, the music from your earphones cutting out instantly and you sigh, tugging them out of your ears and wrapping them around your phone.

They're an old pair, still wired and plugged in.

Jenni and Alexia have showered you in presents since the moment the adoption went through. You had a pair of Bluetooth ones but you've never used them, not since the presents stopped coming from them together and started coming separately.

They were always one upping each other.

If Alexia bought you Airpods, Jenni bought you a pair of Beats.

If Alexia bought you a Switch, Jenni bought you an XBox.

You blow out all your air noisily, the shuffling at the door alerting you to the fact that your caseworker is outside.

You flush the toilet to keep up appearances, washing your hands and stubbornly not looking in the mirror.

"They should be finishing up," She tells you and you glower.

"For now."

They're not finished up in the slightest and you slump in your seat.

There's no music to distract you from their raised voices, tension and anger building between them.

"And what about her training?! You'd take her away from all that? To what? Gallivant around in Mexico?!"

That's Alexia now, you'd recognise her anger anywhere.

You imagine she's standing now, palms flat on the desk as she gets as close to Jenni as possible. Her lawyer, a straight laced man in a fancy suit and a disinclination to children, probably sits back in his seat, arms spread in a 'how could you tear Alexia away from her child?' pose at the other lawyer.

"Mexico has pools, Alexia! They know how to swim! She can train there!"

That's Jenni.

She's still as angry as earlier, bubbling and boiling inside of her. She's probably standing up too, finger pointing towards Alexia in a brutal jab. Her lawyer pretends he likes kids, pretends to greet you warmly and act like her actually gives a shit about your feelings.

He doesn't and he doesn't even do a good job of pretending.

He's more condescending than anything, talking to you like you're five and don't understand why your guardians are fighting.

"And you'd have her make new friends? Put her in a new swimming club? Her life is here!"

"No, Alexia, your life is here!"

You've never felt more weightless than you were in the pool, just floating around on your back as the water laps at your skin.

You're the fastest swimmer in the region for your age group. Especially in long distance.

Your coaches say you have the stamina.

You think it's because you want to be in the water for as long as possible.

It comes easy to you, mindless, repetitive.

You like to do things you're good at.

The door swings open, slamming against the wall and you sigh.

The yelling has stopped.

Neither Alexia nor Jenni want to make a scene in public.

The meeting room is a free-for-all but outside they can pretend to be civil. Everyone will pretend they didn't hear them at each other's throats a few moments ago.

You stand, plugging in your earphones even though your phone is dead.

You've found that neither of them want to talk to you if you've got your earphones in.

"Say goodbye to your mother, y/n," Alexia says, already strolling over to wait for you by the door.

Your eyes linger on her before they flick to Jenni.

You shove your hands into your pocket and mutter," Bye."

She's still looking at Alexia too, eyes narrowed in anger before they softens a fraction as she turns to you.

Her hand rests on your shoulder, thumb rubbing ever so slightly.

"I'll see you tomorrow, yeah? You've got that competition."

"Yeah, I do."

"I'll be cheering."

You manage a weak smile.

Alexia and Jenni will be on opposite ends of the room, pretending that the other doesn't exist.

"I love you," Jenni says and you sigh.

"Yeah."

Alexia is waiting by the door, impatiently, foot tapping. When you join her, she starts off again, down the stairs and to the car parked up front.

"Not sitting in the front with me?" She tries to tease as you slip into the seat behind her but you're in no mood," I'll let you choose the music."

You hold up your dead phone, earphones in and her small smile turns into a frown.

"Well, if you're sure..."

"I'm sure."

"So..." Alexia drums her fingers on the steering wheel," That competition tomorrow...You excited?"

You stare out the window. "I guess."

You're in no mood to talk, clearly, so Alexia settles on looking back at you through the rear view mirror periodically.

"Don't worry," She tells you," This will all get sorted out soon."

You wish it hadn't happened in the first place.

You with you had never met them.

[bubblebbg]

can i ask for a jealous mizu from blue eye samurai feeling a little overprotective and jealous when taigen spars with reader bc they are a swordmaster as well? Mizu doesn’t like it how taigen always gets you to laugh or how he injures you when sparring

why yes, anon. you may. Only warning is violence, but like, not really? Not proofread. Also, Mizu's pronouns change per perspective. I may as well shamelessly plug my other Mizu fic right here ;))

❝𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝❞

Mizu has no one to blame but herself when she's forced to bite back her envy and watch you with Taigen. If you two spar one more time, she might throw up in her mouth. It's about time she takes matters into her own hands.

The clinking of metal on metal, the air sliced through with a swish; all sounds Mizu has become accustomed to. Nonetheless, her eyebrow twitches in irritation, eyes following the movements in front of her. She thinks to herself that she never wanted to be this accustomed to those sounds, especially not when accompanied with Taigen's stupid remarks.

She watches you double back after having knocked him down yet again in the midst of your spars. She hates the way the both of you giggle.

"Please," Mizu rolls her eyes, "It can't be that funny the eighth time."

Taigen collects his sword and stands, sheathing it before dusting himself off. "Like you could do any better. Sure, you're good, but you're no master." He looks to you as he says this, smiling as if the praise was at all inconspicuous. She scoffs a bit when you smile back, crossing her arms and looking to the side.

The irony of her jealousy is that it's of her own making. You've asked Mizu to train with you before, and every time it's been a no. Because she cares about you, she at least does you the decency of making up excuses. "I'm tired, maybe tomorrow" or "I'm busy" - poor excuses, she knows, but she's trying here - and you've learned to stop asking. The truth is, she doesn't trust herself to not give away what she tries to keep hidden. Her heart already beats hard enough around you. The consequence? Watching you spar with a man who's clearly inferior to you, all while he makes pathetic advances and jokes. She's not sure if she hates him or herself more right now.

"But that's right," Taigen remarks, a snarky look on his face, "You're too scared, aren't you?"

The look in your eyes is cautionary as you nudge him. "Stop it," you mutter. And Mizu knows she shouldn't be so childish as to take the bait, but this isn't about you; it's a direct challenge from Taigen on her (sort of) manlihood.

"I am not scared."

"Then prove it. Duel. Right now."

"That's enough, Taigen," you reply, always the mediator, "If Mizu doesn't want to spar, then he -"

"I'll do it," she stands, approaching you both and stopping in front of Taigen with a searing look, "And you'll see that you're not even half the swordsman I am."

𓆩… . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . …𓆪

Inhale. Exhale. You stand face to face, a few meters apart, each a hand on their sword. The cold bites, snow falling between the two of you. When you look into her eyes, you see blazing fire, a spirit like tempered steel. When she looks into yours, there's something more unnerving; calm, like the surface of water undisturbed. Her heart pounds.

Inhale, she wills herself. Exhale. She draws and lunges, and you're quick to block it. Another swing, and another, and another, all quick and strong. Sharp eyes, she thinks. Each attack of hers is stopped as soon as it begins. Your eyes, watching as if not only to prevent, but to predict.

Inhale. She steps back, assessing. You're like a fortress - impenetrable defense. Your lips curl in the slightest smile and there goes her damn heart's pounding again.

Exhale. She drops to a crouch and swipes snow at you in an attempt to blind you, to throw off your analysis. She lunges through the spray with a decisive blow, a duel-ending strike.

Nothing. Her blade hits nothing.

Instead there's a blade at her throat, with you behind her. "How the hell did you -"

She reddens at the feeling of your warm chuckle at her ear. "You're breathing gives you away," you whisper, "Every time, without fail." You sheath your blade and Mizu whips around to look at you. She can't help but share the smile you give her. "Dirty bastard," she replies, and your laughter fills the air, the only sound she'll never tire of.

"Hah! I knew it, you're no match either, Mizu!"

Mizu's about to reply when you beat her to it.

"Whatever Taigen, he lasted longer than you ever will."

And it's Mizu's turn to laugh.

[animasola86]

F o r g e t f u l 🎀 1 / 4

Your roommate has a dirty secret - you. The only problem is: you can't remember anything about that. And there might be even more problems when you realize just what kind of relationship you have with her.

a dominant woman X a submissive girl with a memory problem

WARNINGS: F!Reader-insert! NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mistress/pet. Domme/sub. Memory loss. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Praise kink. Dubcon elements. Fingering. Sex toys. Object insertion. Bondage. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 5.5k

A/N: Remember: if these tags are not for you, you better turn back now! If you know my other stories, you may be used to my very explicit writing style, but this is still some of the darker stuff, somewhat. It's rough, but there is an actual wlw story buried beneath the depravity, I swear! And: THIS IS FICTION! Nobody got hurt in the making of this series. (By the way, the header is just for aesthetics, it's up to you to decide how Mistress looks like and obviously Reader looks however you want to insert her. I tried my best to keep her neutral.) Another note on the fandom tags: I write characters who could be anyone, so I thought about some kick-ass ladies who may fit the role here. I'm sorry this is not about your favorite character, but maybe it can still somewhat fit? Give it a try :)

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

You're staring at the pictures with your lips parted and trembling, your cheeks warm, a strange tingle in your nape. Your hands are shaking as you file through the prints. They look weirdly professional, good lighting, even better angles, the background is blurry while the focus lies directly on...

You.

It's you in those photographs, you in various positions, you in different outfits... or with nothing at all hiding your curves. Some pictures are just showing certain body parts, some angles you've never seen of yourself, some more flattering than others.

But whatever you see, you can't hide the fact that it arouses you. It's not the subject, you're usually quite self-conscious about taking nudes of yourself (even though you gotta admit that these look quite well made, so surreal that you feel almost proud of yourself), it's actually two things that make your core throb:

One: you are in clearly compromising positions, bent over with your legs spread wide, on your back, bound to the bed with cuffs around your wrists and ankles, or tied up with soft-looking rope in intricate patterns, your body composed in ways you haven't thought possible (or comfortable).

And two: you are always stuffed. There are various objects sticking out of both your cunt and your ass, sometimes there's even something in your mouth that's held open by a spider gag. It varies too, not all holes are occupied all the time, all at once, in some pictures it's just one and it's particularly stuffed and stretched (is that an eggplant?).

Your body reacts more and more as you flip through the thick printed paper. The worst thing about it all:

You can't remember a goddamn thing!

Shame and arousal course through you as you stare at yourself. But you can't put them down, can't stop. In this photo, you're wearing a black leather harness that accentuates your breasts. You're standing, with wide legs, a spreader bar attached to your ankles. You're blindfolded, your arms tied behind your back. It's a series of pictures, you realize.

First from the front, then from the back (your ass cheeks look great with how they're pushed up by the leather straps). You notice something shiny between them: a butt plug with a sparkly diamond base. It's glowing, or blinking as you see in the next picture where the light is gone.

Your insides convulse a little, your muscles clenching around nothing. It's like looking at porn, but you can't ignore the familiarity about the body portrayed. It is undoubtedly yours.

But then again: you've never had anything up your ass, not in your conscious state at least. But here (and in those other pics) you have, and the next print even shows a close-up of the plug in your ass. It's a strangely aesthetic photo considering the unflattering motif and angle, but it certainly does things to you. Though you can't be sure if the tension in your stomach comes from embarrassment, excitement or sheer terror at the revelation that somebody took these pictures of you – and you can't even remember it.

Swallowing hard, you pry your eyes from the prints, your hands still shaking, as you look around the room. Somebody can only be one person. Your gaze scrapes over the shelves around you, full of camera equipment, old-fashioned film containers next to a plastic box full of SD-cards, various lenses and other extras, and then the cameras themselves, three at least, behind glass doors, kept away, like the pictures you found in a large brown envelope hiding in a drawer.

You've been looking for some hair ties, an innocent search, knowing your roommate wouldn't mind, but now you feel as if you've stepped into a different world, uncovering secrets you should have never known about. Even if they are about you.

Taking a shuddering breath, you look back at the pictures in your hands, your cheeks positively aflame now as you trace the blurry lines of your body before the focus shifts to a close-up of your cunt, shiny and reddened, your clit swollen, with black clamps attached to your pussy lips, thin metal chains disappearing off to the sides, holding your folds open while something black and girthy vanishes into your body.

The next pictures show a white-gloved hand gripping the base of the dildo, and you flip quicker through the sheets to create the motion, seeing the toy going in and out of your cunt, guided by the anonymous hand, spreading your core, diving in to retreat with an extra layer of shine before disappearing again, and as you stare at the prints, you can almost feel it moving inside you, a faint memory as your muscles clench and unclench, your arousal building up before it drips into your underwear.

You are torn between being very horny upon seeing these pictures and utterly disturbed. If you could only remember these scenes, then it wouldn't be as bad. But you can't. There's nothing, only fog that slips through your mind's imaginary fingers as you try to catch it, as you try to make sense of this. You feel your heart beating faster while your eyes tear up from staring unblinkingly at the prints in your hands.

This can't be real. Confusion merges with betrayal, your belly feels tense, your heart clenches in rhythm with your walls, your throat closes up as the first tear spills from your lashes.

You let go of the pictures, watching them scatter over the desk and down to the floor, every angle of your body on display, every inch captured in embarrassing detail, your holes filled or gaping, your mouth gagged or stuffed or open, there's drool, there are tears, there's wetness glistening on your skin in almost every shot. Your eyes may be the scariest part staring up at you. They're either glazed over, unfocused, or rolled back and hooded, some bloodshot, some watery, and some look almost defiant, a moment captured in time where you seemingly fought back?

The ones where you're blindfolded are the least terrifying, those are the ones where you can dissociate, where you can imagine somebody else being tied to whatever surfaces there are, tables, benches, beds, chairs, artfully presented, where it's just a body, clad in sexy lingerie and high heels, or adorned with ropes, or in the moments after where the skin is dented by the intricate patterns left behind by the ties.

The close-ups are also getting to you. You've never seen your own cunt or ass up close like this, so again, it could be anyone's holes filled and spread and used by various objects. The sheer amount and variety of them is quite concerning. But it's the unconventional ones that make you shiver, that create that tension in your stomach. The cucumber pushed deep into your ass so only its thinner stalk or whatever its called pokes out. The wide eggplant parting your labia in an obscene fashion, its entire body stuffed into your cunt, creating a slight bulge in your lower stomach.

There's another stack of photos atop a large envelope (the whole drawer seems to be dedicated to just you), and your curiosity gets the better of you after all. It's a series of pictures showing different round objects pushed into your holes. From marbles to ping pong balls to actual tennis balls, they're all shown vanishing into either your ass or your cunt, pushed by a delicate finger clad in a white glove, one after the other, and you can only assume how many would actually fit. It's not a video, you can't be sure, but you can imagine whoever did this to you didn't stop at just one.

Indeed they didn't, as the next photo shows. Another set of hands, also wearing white gloves, is grabbing your ass cheeks and pulling them apart, making your sphincter wink at the camera, before, in the next shot, your hole is gaping, allowing a strange view inside, rosy flesh stuffed with white little balls (you can see at least three, but more are hinted at behind them). You feel a little sick looking at the rest of the series of pictures, where they come back out as your hole puckers, pushing and pushing.

Your body reacts in earnest, your muscles clenching around nothing, deep shivers crashing down your spine. You flip past more of these kinds of photos, until you stop when you see white-gloved fingers poking at your cunt, spreading your lips, gathering your slick that glistens on the surface of the latex gloves, and you let out an audible gasp when the next picture doesn't show them push in, but shows only a wrist (attached to a slender arm) poking out of your stretched hole, gripped by tight skin, suggesting the entire hand is stuck inside you.

Your stomach gives a nervous growl at the sight, your breath hitching in your throat. You swallow thickly, your nostrils flaring as you force yourself to breathe through your nose to calm yourself. The stack of pictures shakes in your hands as you flip through more extreme insertions, more vegetables, some fruits, an entire apple made it up your cunt apparently, while they went from using one cucumber in your ass to at least three, stretching your rim impossibly wide. The sight alone makes your asshole clench violently, and you wonder why you never felt sore after being stuffed so full and spread so wide.

But your body seemingly adjusted, returned to its former state, unharmed, giving no hints at what actually happened to you. Strange. It's almost as if this happened to somebody else after all. But it didn't. It is your body. You may not know your cunt or ass up close, but you recognize the rest, your boobs, your arms, your belly, your legs, your feet, the birthmarks that make you you. It is you in these pictures, in every single one.

Only you.

A strangled sob escapes you as you look over the desk, seeing more and more envelopes, hiding in plain sight, more prints, some smaller, some bigger, all filled with motifs of your body being used in various fashions, one more degrading than the next. Shame settles low in your stomach, like a heavy weight that makes it hard to breathe. Your head is spinning, blood rushing in your ears so loudly you are startled back into reality as you suddenly hear the creaking of the door.

Footsteps follow, before someone clears their throat.

You whip around, dropping the last pictures you were holding, more shots of your stuffed cunt, wet and glistening as it's assaulted by more household items. Your eyes widen when you see your roommate in the door frame, a smug smile on her beautiful face as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Oh hi,” she says in a nonchalant tone, tilting her head. “What are you doing here, pet?” she adds, and you frown at the nickname, a strange sensation crashing through your nerves.

“I... uh... I was looking for...” you stammer, taking a step away from the desk and the mess you made by dropping all those prints. “A hair tie,” you whisper breathlessly, curling your shaking hands into fists as you stare at her. “What... what are these? Did you take them?” you then ask, your voice trembling as much as your shoulders while you look from her back to the discriminating evidence you found by accident.

Your roommate sighs, unfolding her arms as she walks towards you. She's taller than you, slender and still curvy in the right places, her long hair falling over her slim shoulders. You force yourself to look into her eyes and not get distracted by the cleavage her tight dress creates or how close she is. She stops right in front of you, looking down, a softer looking smile curling her full lips.

“You know I did,” she says quietly, reaching up a hand to caress your cheek with the back of her finger. You shiver under the touch, but don't flinch away. “You agreed to this, remember?”

“No,” you breathe out, blinking quickly as you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Shh, it's okay, pet, don't worry. You did. I would never do anything to harm you,” she whispers, leaning closer until you feel her hot breath on your lips. “You wanted to be my muse, you begged me for it,” she adds, biting her lip sensually before leaning in to press her warm mouth to the corner of yours.

You stiffen, eyes widening, your heart nearly exploding in your chest. You can't remember any of this. Why is she saying that? She is just your roommate!

You moved in only a few months ago, replying to an ad you saw on the bulletin board of your college dorm. A cheap room in a good neighborhood, your own room, away from the distractions of having to live with people you don't like or know that well, it sounded too good to be true. But it was true, and the woman looking for roommates was so nice, so enticing. You met her at a neutral place, to get to know her (fall for her charm), before she showed you the apartment, and you moved in later that week.

It was perfect. Until it wasn't. Not that you noticed it right away. You just never saw her. Now that you thought about it, you can only (barely) remember going to your classes (you are still going to your classes, right?), while the rest of the day is somewhat of a blur. You can't, however, remember going to your job at the coffee shop (do you still have a job? How are you paying for this place?), and the more you try to remember, the more holes come up, black and all-consuming.

You frown as you stare at her. She leans back slowly, watching you. Her hand is on your face, the pointy nail of her thump scraping over your bottom lip as her long fingers caress the shell of your ear.

“No need to worry, pet,” she says quietly, her voice a low soft thrum, rich like honey, that tickles something inside you that you've fought all your life. Why does she keep calling you 'pet'? And why does it affect you so much? “Everything is just fine. And I'm not even mad that you just went into my room like this. I told you you shouldn't, didn't I?”

You swallow as she lowers her hand and closes it around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. You feel your pulse throbbing against her palm. “I'm sorry,” you gasp out.

She smiles at you, moving her hand even lower, teasing her fingertips along the neckline of your shirt. “It's okay. You know the consequences. It'll be fine.” You furrow your eyebrows, breathing harder, not understanding anything. “Not the first time, hm?” she adds, giving you a wink. Her words make no sense, your head is hurting with how tight you pull your eyebrows together, and with all the thoughts and questions whirling about in a wild dance of confusion.

“I... I don't –”

“Shh,” she shushes you, her hand gripping your chin. You freeze. “Be a good pet and go back to your room. I'll clean this up. Put on the clothes I chose for you. Wait for me when you're done. Do you understand?”

You stare at her, your body tensing up, your cunt clenching hard around nothing. Her words, the cadence of her voice, the dominant tone, it all brings you to do one thing, your mind emptying as words spill from your trembling lips. “Yes, Mistress.”

You don't even know where these came from. Mistress? Pet? What is going on? But your body moves on auto-pilot, your mind swirling, still fighting the confusion, but also easing into a strange void, triggered by words you've heard before, or so it feels, commands you've answered many times in the past.

She lets go of your chin, giving you a warm smile, even though her eyes are dark and somewhat cold, and you nod, bow your head and shuffle out of the room, your legs trembling as you make your way back into your bedroom across the hall.

For a moment you're wondering how you got here, why you're here, but then your gaze falls onto a pile of clothes on your bed. You walk closer, picking up item after item. A short black skirt, pleated, barely long enough to not be considered a belt. A tight tank top, white and almost see-through. A set of fancy black underwear, a lace bra with an intricate flower pattern, a thong of similar design. There's also a pair of sheer black stockings, a garter belt and straps to attach each piece together.

Your stomach tenses at the sight. You've seen these pieces before, in the photos you shouldn't have seen. It's a blur how you put them on, your head spinning, your hands shaking, but you still somehow manage to dress in time before you hear footsteps on the floorboards outside your room. Your heart beats faster, your chest heaving, tight in the bra and top, straining, something cold crashing down your spine before it gathers hot and pulsing right between your legs.

Before the creaking of the door announces your roommate, you suddenly fall to your knees, your feet tucked under your rear, your hands automatically finding purchase in your lap, folded neatly as you stretch your back and square your shoulders, breathing deep as you train your eyes straight ahead, waiting for the door to open. You have no idea what made you assume this position, why it feels so familiar, so safe in a way.

Your roommate (your Mistress) enters your bedroom, her high heels thudding over the carpet as she walks up to you, tilting her head as she watches you closely. “Stand,” she says, and you do, your legs moving seemingly on their own. Once you stand, stiff with your arms pressed to your sides, chest pushed out, your neck straight, eyes wandering over the tall frame in front of you, she nods. “See? You haven't forgotten. Good girl,” she says, and the praise shoots through you like a pistol shot, straight into your clit, making it throb and ache, your heart beating in the same hurried rhythm.

She walks around you then, her long fingers brushing over your bare arms, around your shoulders, down your spine, until she gives your ass a soft slap, making you gasp quietly. She repeats the motion, but this time, she leaves her hand on your cheek for a moment, squeezing it, her fingernails digging into your soft skin. You stiffen, breathing a little harder.

“You're so beautiful,” she whispers as she leans into you, looming behind you, her breath ghosting your jaw. “My perfect little muse.”

You feel her lips brushing against the soft spot behind your ear, a hot kiss that makes you shiver, while her hand gropes your ass, fingertips teasing at the thin fabric of your thong tucked between your cheeks.

Suddenly she leans back, lets go of you, and you hear her walking a few steps before she stops, a deep sigh echoing through the room. You turn around slowly, unsure if you should, but when you do, you freeze as you watch her pick up the glass of water on your bedside table.

“Baby, I told you to drink more,” she says with a tilt of her head. “You always forget, hm? So busy, head always in the clouds...” She walks back to you, holding the glass in front of you, her eyes boring into yours as she waits for you to grab it. You do, your hands shaking. “Drink up, pretty girl. You know you need it.”

She's so caring, you think as you bring the water to your lips, holding her gaze, but as soon as you feel the cold liquid running down your tight throat, an image flickers before your eyes. Your roommate (Mistress) sitting on your bed, moving a clear glass straw in a stirring motion, swirling the water, making a faint sheen of powder disappear. You feel as if you've watched her do that many times. What is that? What did she put in here? Vitamins? Or something else?

But you can't even question it further, can't find the courage to ask, when you realize you've drank the whole thing, every drop of water (and whatever else was in there) now in your stomach. “Good girl,” she praises and smiles at you, before she takes the glass from your clammy fingers and puts it back on your bedside table. “Now let's get you ready for our big night out, yeah?”

You frown, another faint memory peeking through the fog in your head. It seems to be getting thicker now. Strange. But this image, you still see somewhat clearly before you. You had plans tonight, you remember now, you wanted to go out. Where? No idea. But you needed a hair tie. Yeah. That's why you went into your roommate's room in the first place. Some details are blurry (were you supposed to go out with her? Have you done that before? Why would you? You barely know the woman...), but somehow they don't matter anymore.

She steps back in front of you, her fingers vanishing in the cleavage of her dress before she pulls something from between her breasts. You blink in confusion as you recognize the shape. It's a metal butt plug. And she stored it between her boobs? Interesting.

“Open wide, pet,” she tells you, and without even questioning it, you part your lips and let your tongue roll out. She looks pleased as she puts the rounded object into your mouth. It's warm, and the taste triggers something else in you. Another familiar sensation. It's her, you know without knowing, her taste, sweet and a bit salty, exploding on your tongue, sinking deep, causing soft shivers to crash down your spine, something hot gathering low in your gut.

You've had your face on her chest before, huh? Must be. Your cheeks burn up badly, your breaths loud through your nose as you suckle on the butt plug between your lips, your eyes scanning the pretty face looking down at you. She keeps her fingers on the base, pushing the object in and out, and you find yourself licking around it, coating it in your saliva. Like you've done before. You think.

She watches you before she lets go of the plug and puts her palm over your mouth. “Keep it nice and warm for me, okay?” she says, leaning closer until her nose brushes against yours. You give a jerking nod, tightening your lips around the narrowest part of the plug while its body rests hard and heavy on your tongue. “Good.”

You feel saliva pooling in your mouth, and the urge to swallow becomes stronger. But you focus on the woman in front of you as she straightens up again, her hands on her hips. Her whole presence, her aura, has you in its grip, you feel, it's impossible to fight it, to protest, to do anything except the things she demands of you. All it takes is a look, a word, her voice driving through you like an electric current that controls your every limb.

And so you move when she tells you to turn around and bend over, and as you rest on your forearms on the edge of your bed, she nudges your legs apart and steps between them, her hands sliding under your skirt and pushing it up. You stiffen slightly, breathing harder, your heart thundering inside your chest, but you can't object, you don't want to. You just endure.

And a tiny part of you, through the fog in your head, lights up, a growing heat that creeps down your spine, tenses in your stomach, seeps lower until it gathers in your core, scorching, wet, and it's all you feel when she pushes your thong aside and moves her fingers along your slit, dipping gently between your puffy lips and into your slick, the loud squelching noise making your ears burn.

She prods at your entrance, teases your clit, but then she moves up again, and without warning or command or reassuring words pokes right against your puckered hole, and as you gasp around the plug in your mouth, flinching slightly, she stretches your rim and pushes into your ass, a slim finger, a pointy fingernail, digging against your tense muscles. In and out it goes until there are two fingers, then three, and it burns, the friction too much, like little daggers poking at your nerves.

“Come on, pet, relax,” she says from behind you, moving her fingers deeper, curling them, pushing and prodding against protesting muscles. “You've done this before. You're a pro at this, remember?”

Her words bring up the hazy memories of the pictures you saw, of the various items wedged into your tight ass, and some just don't make sense. Three cucumbers? Really? While it already feels like too much when she 'only' has three slim fingers inside you? How did you manage that? Your stomach gives a distant growl as drool slips past your tight lips and onto your bed.

“Fine, I'll lube you up this time,” she sighs and removes her fingers with a strangely wet pop. This time? She doesn't usually? It's almost as if you can remember the pain of the dry friction, but then why can you never remember any soreness afterwards? Confusion lingers on your mind as you hear her footsteps leaving the room.

You remain in your bent-over position, your hands clawing at the sheets as you suckle mindlessly on the metal plug in your mouth, trying to make sense of it all. You come to no conclusion whatsoever when she eventually returns, and you hear the squirt of some liquid before you can feel it. Large dollops of something cold pressing against your tight hole. You groan against the object between your lips as she pushes deeper, her fingers, slick and cold, sliding in and out again.

This time she stretches your hole by scissoring her fingers, knuckles digging into your tense muscles, and you hear another squirt and something cold lands on your hot skin, slipping right into you. You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your exposed skin. She keeps doing that, filling you up with more and more lube, you assume, her fingers pushing it deep, coating your insides. It's a strange sensation, but again, this feels somewhat familiar, and triggers more memories you seem to have suppressed before, or forgotten.

You see yourself strapped to a reclining chair, your legs raised up in some sort of stirrups, ankles tied and wrists bound to the armrests. You're naked, and she is kneeling between your wide open legs in front of a large plastic bucket or something like it, and there's a tube inside your ass, something cold (water?) pressing through it and into you, and you see and feel it filling you up, your stomach bulging, and you feel sick, your insides cramping, but you can't say anything, there's a gag in your mouth, so all you can do is squirm in your restraints, until you feel a different sort of pain as she slaps your mound with a force that makes you cry out, makes you flinch remembering it, and she keeps at it, hitting your clit with precise blows until it's all puffy and throbbing badly, and you throw your head back and whine helplessly, your belly still bulging, filling up, while her voice coos into your ear:

“You want to be clean, pet, don't you? So we gotta clean you up properly. You don't want to be dirty for our guests, now do you?”

You frown deeply as those words echo in your cloudy head. Guests? But the question vanishes slowly, replaced by the sensation of her fingers digging deep into your ass, spreading more lube, and in the back of your mind you're just glad she isn't giving you another enema. A strange thought to have, but it makes sense in the dizziness that holds you hostage. Breathing harder, you press your forehead into the bed, swallowing hard around the plug in your mouth.

As she works on (in) your ass, you start to feel a tingle in your neglected pussy, a spasm deep within, a little clench, a needy little urge, and instead of holding still, you find yourself grinding your rear into her hand. She stops immediately, a deep sigh escaping her as she pulls her fingers out of your ass and grips your nape with her wet hand. You shiver and stiffen, holding your breath as she pulls you into a standing position.

Her free hand grabs the base of the plug and pulls it out of your mouth where it clangs against your teeth, causing you to flinch. You swallow the excess spit and take a shuddering breath as you feel the warm metal pressing between your ass cheeks. With how she worked you open, it slips in easily enough, and your muscles clench slightly around its narrow neck, but it's only after she smacks your soft cheek a few times in rapid succession, making you whine and shudder as your skin tightens, that you're tensing up enough to hold it in place.

She lets go of you and spins you around, then holds out her hand to you, her fingers glistening in lube and your own wetness. “Clean,” she says, and even though your stomach makes a loud grumble of protest, you find yourself leaning in and closing your lips around her slim fingers. A strange taste of artificial strawberry and something else, something tangy and your own, floods your senses, but you close your eyes and flick your tongue around her digits, focusing on the task and not on the taste and the origin of it.

Eventually she pulls her hand away and pats your cheek, leaving a trail of saliva on your warm skin. Your eyes flutter open as she leans around you and adjusts your thong, pulling it back in place, then pushes your skirt down again. Her eyes meet yours, the gaze intense, creating another soothing wave of heat that rolls over you gently, that makes you clench around the plug in your butt. A smile grazes her full lips, and you find yourself smiling back.

“Alright, now put your hair up, get your shoes and your coat, and wait by the front door,” she tells you as she steps away, holding your gaze until you nod obediently. Your mind is reeling at this point, confusion and arousal warring inside of you. What is happening?

You don't know, and you don't seem to care too much either as you start moving, following her orders. You end up on your knees again, right by the door, waiting like a dog, and the image couldn't have been more fitting when you see her approaching with a strange leather band in her hands. You blink when she crouches down before you and fixes what you can only assume is a collar around your neck. It sits tight enough to notice it, but you can still breathe freely and swallow against it without it restricting you in any way.

You're still confused why you need this (and why you accept it so easily). Your roommate (Mistress) cups your face and looks at you with a warm gaze that makes you bite your lip, her hands rubbing over your cheeks before she tugs her thumbs under your chin and lifts it so she can lean in and press her lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut as you part your lips and meet her tongue, the kiss deep and soft, gentle gliding of tongues and lips, a warm gesture, sending sparks through your nerves that make you throb with a need that feels both familiar and eerily unknown, frightening.

A single thought ricochets through your empty head: You would do anything for this woman.

“My beautiful pet,” she whispers against your tingling lips, the tip of her tongue tracing the corner of your mouth. “Are you ready?”

Without thinking, without wondering what for, you nod eagerly, a breathless “Yes, Mistress.” leaving your swollen lips. She gives you another peck and stands up then, snapping her fingers in a way that leaves no room for interpretation. You stand immediately, swaying slightly on the high heels you were told to wear. You're still smaller than her, but having to look up only amplifies the sensation coursing through you. Your devotion for her.

She grabs a large bag and shoves it into your hands, and you know by the weight and feel of it, that it holds camera equipment. A distant memory shimmers behind your glassy eyes, of stumbling into her room, finding those envelopes in the drawer of her desk, of flipping through countless pictures of your naked body, of your holes being stuffed and stretched, of being tied down, of letting her do with you whatever she wants. What has disturbed you earlier is barely worth a flinch now.

It's what you do. It's what you are. Her muse. Her pet. She chose you and you obey. It's what you do, it's what she does. She's your Mistress, after all.

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

End notes: Yes, our dominant lady here is indeed inspired by a character from my other (m/f) Dom/sub story: Infatuated: Mistress.

By the way, a little disclaimer at the end here as we go to the next (heavier) chapters: I am not a BDSM professional or expert, I am a writer with a dirty mind and access to the Internet. This is fiction, gaslighting people is bad, consent is very important, but when a hot lady tells you to do something, you gotta do it, that's the law (jk). Please see this as what it is: a fantasy and nothing more.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Saturday!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

[mcrdvcks]

— nonsense

summary: You and Matt decide to finally move in together.

word count: 5.0k+

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

notes: the fourth installment! there's a lot more to come with these two! also, yes, the title is a sabrina carpenter song. basically, this is a bunch of small little scenes combined into one fic. enjoy!

warnings/tags: after endgame but date is not specified, best friends to lovers, periods & cramps, mentions of injuries, kidnapping (it's not what you think, believe me)

series masterlist

Your alarm went off thirty minutes ago. You should’ve already been up and eating breakfast but every little shift sent a sharp pain radiating.

You heard footsteps and someone stopping at the bedroom door. “You have work, don’t you angel?”

“Fuck off, Matt.” You mumbled into your pillow. Your eyes opened abruptly, set in a shocked expression. “I mean—I—”

Matt's lips twitched into an amused smile. "Wow. Good morning to you too."

You groaned, burying your face deeper into the pillow. "Sorry. That came out meaner than I intended."

He chuckled quietly, stepping closer and sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand found your lower back, rubbing gently. "What's wrong?"

You sighed heavily, turning your head to the side. "Cramps. My insides feel like they're trying to kill me."

Matt hummed sympathetically, still gently rubbing your back. "Did you take anything?"

You shook your head weakly. "Couldn't get up."

"Stay here," Matt murmured softly, already standing. "I'll get you some ibuprofen and a heating pad."

You blinked tiredly at him, mildly surprised. "Since when do you have a heating pad?"

He smirked, pausing at the doorway. "Since I realized you needed one monthly."

You huffed, fighting a smile. "You're too observant, Murdock."

He tilted his head playfully. "Comes with the territory."

You pulled the blanket closer, shifting slightly as another sharp pain twisted your abdomen. Matt returned quickly, handing you two pills and a glass of water, then plugging in the heating pad and placing it gently against your lower stomach.

"Better?" he asked softly, brushing your hair back from your face.

You sighed in relief, sinking into the mattress. "A little. Thank you, Matty."

He smiled gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're welcome, angel."

You closed your eyes, relaxing slightly. "I should really get up for work."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Call in sick. You've earned it."

"You sure that's not just you trying to tempt me into staying in bed with you all day?"

Matt smirked, carefully stretching out beside you. "Maybe. But you're in pain, so I'm officially insisting."

You sighed dramatically, turning your face into his chest. "Fine. But what about you? Shouldn’t you be going?”

Matt chuckled softly, wrapping an arm gently around you. "Foggy and Karen can handle the office without me for one day. Besides, Foggy practically threatened me yesterday, saying I haven't taken a day off in weeks."

You laughed quietly, turning your face further into his chest. "He's right, you know."

"Unfortunately," Matt admitted, rubbing soft circles into your back. "And you need someone here to make sure you're okay."

You smiled softly against him, mumbling, "I'm fine. It's just cramps."

He hummed skeptically, lips brushing your forehead lightly. "You can barely move."

"Okay, yeah, true," you admitted, sighing. "But I don't want you to miss work just because I'm stuck here feeling awful."

Matt tightened his arm around you gently. "Believe it or not, angel, spending a lazy day in bed with you isn't exactly a sacrifice."

You huffed a soft laugh, pressing closer. "You really are shameless, Murdock."

"Only when it comes to you," he murmured warmly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Now relax."

You smiled tiredly, shifting slightly to ease closer to the warmth of his body. "This heating pad's nice, but you're better."

He chuckled softly, fingers tracing slow patterns along your spine. "Glad to know I'm good for something."

You closed your eyes again, feeling the steady rise and fall of Matt's chest beneath your cheek. "You’re good for lots of things. Like cuddles, back rubs, and apparently emergency heating pads."

He smirked gently, nudging you lightly. "Happy to help."

You sighed contentedly, your body finally relaxing under his gentle touch. "Remind me again why I never took sick days before we started dating?"

Matt smiled softly, brushing a gentle kiss against your temple. "Because you're stubborn and insist you can handle everything on your own."

You mumbled quietly against him, "Rude. But accurate."

He chuckled again, the sound warm and soft. "Just let someone take care of you for once."

You tilted your head up slightly, eyes meeting his fondly. "Only if that someone is you."

Matt smiled warmly, tilting his head down to brush his lips gently against yours. "Always."

You sighed softly into the kiss, settling comfortably against him again, finally content to spend the day exactly where you were—safe, warm, and wrapped tightly in Matt’s arms.

---

When you woke up a few hours later, the bed was empty, and there was a refilled glass of water on the bedside table, along with a small bouquet of flowers in a dingy vase.

You smiled softly, sitting up slowly and reaching out to gently brush your fingertips over the petals. "Matty?" you called out, voice thick from sleep.

The apartment door clicked shut softly. "You're awake," Matt's voice replied gently from the hallway.

You rubbed your eyes tiredly. "Barely."

Matt chuckled, stepping into the room, carrying a grocery bag. "Feeling any better?"

"A little," you admitted, smiling warmly. "You got me flowers."

"Yeah," he said softly, smiling sheepishly. "They're probably not that nice, but the guy at the corner shop said they were fresh."

"They're perfect," you said gently, "Thank you."

Matt smiled softly, sitting beside you on the edge of the bed and placing the grocery bag in your lap. "I got you a few other things, too."

You raised a curious eyebrow, pulling the bag open. Inside were your favorite gummies and—your eyebrows lifted in surprise—a pack of pads. The exact brand and style you usually bought.

Your lips twitched upward in amusement. "You bought me pads?"

Matt huffed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes, I... had some help from a very nice older woman in aisle three."

You laughed, pulling the pack out and inspecting it. "And she helped you pick out exactly the right ones?"

Matt smiled wryly. "I described the package. And mentioned something about 'ultra' and 'overnight protection'. She was very understanding."

You grinned widely. "You're amazing, you know that?"

Matt exhaled a quiet laugh. "I think you meant 'embarrassed,' but sure."

You shook your head, leaning forward and kissing his cheek softly. "No, I meant amazing."

Matt smiled gently, tilting his head toward you. "Well, I remember how miserable you'd get back when we were kids. You always made me steal gummies from Sister Maggie's office for you."

"Yeah," you smiled softly, nostalgic. "You were my accomplice in crime even then."

Matt chuckled softly, brushing your hair away from your face. "Some things never change."

You leaned against his shoulder, sighing contentedly. "Thank you for doing all this, Matty. You didn't have to."

Matt pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "I know. But you're worth it."

You smiled, pulling the gummy bag open. "Want one?"

Matt shook his head lightly. "Those things smell overwhelmingly sweet. I'll leave them all for you."

You laughed quietly, popping a gummy in your mouth. "More for me."

Matt squeezed your shoulder gently. "Do you need anything else?"

You shook your head, settling comfortably against him. "Just you."

Matt smiled softly, his arm wrapping around you as he murmured warmly, "You already have that, sweetheart."

---

“Foggy!” You call out from Matt’s office, quickly walking to his with Matt slowly trailing behind. “Tell Matt that if anyone is moving into the other’s place it should be him moving in with me.”

Foggy looked up, mid-bite of his sandwich, his eyebrows raising. "Oh no, I am not getting involved in this."

"Come on," you insisted, crossing your arms. "My apartment is clearly nicer. And bigger. And cleaner."

Matt scoffed softly behind you. "Cleaner is debatable."

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. "I don’t keep expired milk from three months ago."

Foggy grimaced. "Matt, seriously?"

Matt sighed, shaking his head slightly. "It was one time."

"More than once," you corrected.

Foggy looked between you two, amused. "Have you guys even decided you're definitely moving in together yet?"

Matt leaned against the doorway. "Apparently we skipped that step."

You huffed, nudging him with your elbow. "We practically live together already. It just makes sense."

Matt tilted his head slightly, voice softening. "I know. But you don’t exactly have rooftop access."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, so your argument is 'Daredevil access'? Seriously, Matty?"

"Practicality," he countered gently, lips twitching. "That rooftop has saved your spider-friend from awkwardly tapping on windows how many times now?"

Foggy snorted quietly, muttering into his sandwich, "Poor kid probably has trauma from interrupting you two by now."

You pointed at Foggy triumphantly. "See! Another reason my place is better. Less interruptions."

Matt sighed heavily. "Foggy, whose side are you even on here?"

Foggy held up his hands innocently. "I'm neutral territory. Switzerland."

Karen walked by, pausing at the door. "What's going on now?"

Foggy gestured vaguely. "Matt and Y/N can't decide whose apartment they're officially moving into."

Karen smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "Isn't Y/N's apartment bigger?"

"Yes," you said quickly, grinning. "Thank you, Karen."

Matt exhaled sharply, clearly losing ground. "I'm sensing some bias here."

Foggy shook his head sympathetically. "Buddy, maybe it's just a good idea to let this one go."

You turned to Matt, grinning triumphantly. "See? Even your partner agrees."

Matt sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We'll move into your place."

You raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smirk. "Just like that?"

Matt tilted his head toward you, lips quirking up slightly. "I’m a lawyer. I know when I’ve lost a case."

Foggy chuckled quietly. "Smart man."

You leaned closer, slipping an arm around Matt's waist. "Don't worry, devil boy. I'll still let you keep your little rooftop play area."

Matt huffed quietly, sliding his arm around your shoulders. "You're too kind."

You grinned, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Someone has to be."

Foggy made a face, taking another bite of his sandwich. "Please move soon. Watching this flirtfest daily is killing me."

Karen smirked, nudging Foggy lightly. "Don't lie, you secretly love it."

Foggy rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. "Yeah, yeah. Maybe a little."

Matt smiled softly, squeezing your shoulder gently. "Fine. We'll start packing soon."

You beamed, satisfied. "See? Compromise."

Matt chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I don't think this qualifies as compromise, angel."

You grinned widely. "That's because I won."

Matt smiled softly, voice warm. "You always do."

---

A few weeks later, Matt’s apartment was completely boxed up. The only thing left to do was move everything to your place.

Matt tilted his head slightly as he reached his apartment door, pausing as he recognized the familiar, slightly awkward voice coming from inside.

"—really didn’t mean to drop it, Y/N, I swear!" Peter said hurriedly. "It just kind of… slipped."

You sighed patiently. "It's fine, Pete. Just… be careful. Some of this stuff is fragile."

"Right," Peter said sheepishly. "Sorry. Again."

Matt opened the door, stepping inside with an amused expression. "Should I be worried?"

Peter spun around quickly, knocking another box off the table. He caught it mid-air, face flushing as he carefully set it down. "Hey, Mr. Murdock."

You smirked, folding your arms. "Peter offered to help."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "And how's that going?"

"Great," you said dryly. "If you ignore the minor heart attacks from the near-constant drops."

Peter winced. "I'm usually way more coordinated. This isn't normal, I swear."

Matt chuckled softly, setting down his cane. "Relax, Peter. We appreciate the help."

Peter exhaled, clearly relieved. "Oh, good. Because I was starting to worry you'd regret letting me in."

You grinned, nudging his arm. "Never. You’re always welcome, web-head. Just maybe handle fewer breakable things?"

Peter smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, good plan."

Matt tilted his head toward you, smiling faintly. "How much more is left?"

"Just these few boxes," you said lightly. "The movers already took most of the furniture this morning."

Peter’s eyes widened. "Wait, movers were an option? Why am I carrying boxes?"

You snorted. "Because movers cost money, and teenage superhero labor is free."

Peter laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "Well, when you put it that way…"

Matt smiled, reaching out and catching your hand gently. "Let’s finish this up."

You squeezed his fingers lightly. "Finally ready to admit my apartment’s better?"

He sighed softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe."

Peter looked between you two, eyebrows raised. "Wow. You guys are really serious, huh?"

You smirked. "Moving in together tends to indicate seriousness, Pete."

Peter laughed sheepishly. "Right. Obviously."

Matt chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Let’s get these boxes out before Peter breaks anything else."

Peter groaned quietly, picking up another box. "I said I was sorry!"

You laughed softly, patting Peter’s shoulder as you passed. "We know. But you make it so easy to tease."

Peter sighed dramatically. "Everyone says that."

Matt smiled, reaching out to squeeze Peter's shoulder reassuringly. "You're doing fine, Peter. Come on."

Peter brightened, lifting the box carefully. "Thanks, Mr. Murdock."

Matt smiled softly, gently pulling you toward the door. "Let’s get home."

You smiled warmly. "Gladly."

---

Matt would never admit it, but your apartment was much nicer than his. The bed wasn’t hard and lumpy, the floors didn’t feel like they were going to give out, and it didn’t smell like mold and asbestos.

"You’re thinking very loudly," you teased, nudging Matt lightly from your spot beside him on the couch.

Matt tilted his head slightly toward you, a small smile forming. "What makes you say that?"

"You’ve got that little crease," you murmured, reaching up and tapping gently between his eyebrows. "The one you get when you're stubbornly refusing to admit something."

He chuckled softly, gently catching your wrist and pressing a kiss to your palm. "I wasn't aware you were keeping track of my facial expressions."

"You have a limited selection," you teased lightly, leaning comfortably against his side. "Makes it easy."

Matt exhaled a soft laugh, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "I suppose you're proud of yourself, then."

"Extremely," you said warmly, cuddling closer. "Especially since this apartment is objectively better, and you know it."

Matt sighed dramatically, tilting his head back against the couch cushions. "I admit nothing."

You laughed quietly, running your fingers idly along his chest. "Mhm. Just like you won’t admit you actually like my throw pillows."

Matt scoffed softly. "Those things are purely decorative. There's no practical use."

You smirked, poking him lightly. "Except when you pass out on the couch after a rough night and wake up using one as a pillow."

He paused, lips twitching. "That's a coincidence."

"Three times in a week?"

Matt huffed, smiling despite himself. "Fine. Maybe they have some use."

You beamed victoriously. "And the scented candles?"

Matt groaned softly. "Those things are overwhelming."

"You mean pleasant," you corrected, grinning. "Lavender is relaxing."

He sighed heavily, amusement clear on his face. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. "Just a little."

Matt chuckled softly, fingertips tracing idle patterns on your arm. "I just think you're enjoying finally getting your way."

You hummed, amused. "You say that like I don't always get my way."

His lips curved upward slightly. "True."

You rested your head comfortably against his shoulder, fingers tangling with his. "I'm glad we finally did this."

Matt tilted his head slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "Me too."

"Even if it meant surrendering your moldy apartment?" you teased lightly.

He laughed quietly, squeezing your hand. "Even then."

You smiled warmly, settling against him comfortably. "I'm happy you're here, Matty."

He exhaled softly, his voice quiet. "I'm happy I'm here too, angel."

You nudged him playfully. "Now say my apartment's nicer."

Matt huffed softly, shaking his head slightly. "You're impossible."

"And yet…" you murmured, smirking up at him.

He smiled gently, finishing quietly, "Here I am."

---

Matt stumbled slightly as he climbed back into the apartment, easing himself carefully through the window with a quiet grunt.

You glanced up from the couch, eyebrows raised. "You do remember we have a perfectly good front door, right?"

He paused, lips quirking up. "I thought you were asleep."

"You hoped I was asleep," you corrected softly, standing and crossing the room toward him. "Bad night?"

He sighed quietly, leaning against the wall. "Not great."

You reached for his mask, pulling it off gently. He winced slightly as your fingers brushed over a bruised cheekbone.

"That looks painful," you murmured softly.

"It's fine," Matt said automatically.

You shot him a skeptical look, lightly pressing your fingertips to his ribs. He flinched visibly.

"Sure it is," you muttered. "Come on, let’s get you patched up."

He followed you into the bedroom without protest, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed. You grabbed the first aid kit, pulling out gauze and antiseptic.

Matt tilted his head slightly. "You seem annoyed."

You shook your head lightly, kneeling between his knees as you dabbed antiseptic on a cotton ball. "I'm not annoyed, Matty. I just don’t like seeing you hurt."

He exhaled softly. "I know. I'm sorry."

You sighed quietly, fingers brushing gently across a cut above his eyebrow. "Don’t apologize. Just be more careful."

He smiled faintly. "I try."

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Do you, though?"

Matt chuckled softly, wincing slightly. "I really do."

You hummed quietly, focused on cleaning the cut carefully. After a moment, Matt’s fingers curled around your wrist gently.

"Are you mad?" he murmured quietly.

Your eyes softened immediately, shaking your head. "I'm not mad. Just worried."

Matt exhaled, head dropping forward until his forehead rested against yours gently. "I'm okay, sweetheart."

"You say that every time," you whispered quietly.

He nudged your nose gently with his own. "And every time, I mean it."

You sighed softly, leaning back slightly to apply the bandage to his cut. "I know. I just wish you'd—"

"What?" Matt interrupted softly, fingertips brushing along your jaw.

You hesitated, shrugging slightly. "Let me help more. Tell me what's going on out there. Not just patch you up afterward."

Matt’s thumb brushed gently over your cheekbone. "You already do more than enough."

You smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. "But I worry less when I know more."

Matt paused, considering your words. "You want me to talk to you more about Daredevil?"

You nodded gently, meeting his eyes sincerely. "I want to share that part of your life, too. Even if it's hard sometimes."

Matt exhaled slowly, a small smile forming. "I didn't realize you felt that way."

You tilted your head slightly, lips quirking. "Well, now you do."

Matt chuckled softly, leaning forward to brush a soft kiss to your lips. "Alright, angel. I'll talk to you more about it."

"Good," you whispered warmly, returning the kiss gently. "And maybe try not coming home bruised so often?"

Matt smiled softly, fingertips sliding lightly through your hair. "I'll do my best."

You sighed dramatically, resting your forehead against his again. "I suppose that's the best I'll get from you, devil boy."

Matt chuckled softly, his voice warm and gentle. "Unfortunately for you, yes."

You smiled quietly, reaching up to gently trace the line of his jaw. "Lucky I love you anyway."

Matt’s expression softened completely, his thumb brushing gently across your bottom lip. "Yeah. Lucky me."

You leaned in again, kissing him slowly and tenderly, the warmth of his touch reassuring you that, at least for now, he was safe and right where he belonged.

---

A week later, you met Matt on the rooftop of the apartment building, you had gotten off work late since you had to finish your quarterly reports.

“Why’d you want me up here, devil boy?”

Matt smiled slightly, tilting his head toward you. "Remember when Stick first showed up at the orphanage?"

You raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised. "Uh, yeah. Mostly because you wouldn't stop showing off all the cool spins and kicks you learned."

He huffed quietly, shaking his head. "That was me trying to impress you."

You smirked. "Worked, didn't it?"

He chuckled softly, stepping closer, his voice gentle. "You remember how to throw a punch?"

You blinked, confused. "Uh… yeah?"

Matt tilted his head skeptically, clearly amused. "When's the last time you actually did?"

You paused, squinting slightly. "Okay, never. But I think about it a lot—especially at work. You’d understand if you knew my team."

Matt laughed quietly, shaking his head. "I thought so."

You narrowed your eyes playfully, nudging his shoulder. "Are you implying something, Matty?"

Matt smiled softly, reaching for your wrist gently. "I'm implying that I should probably teach you. Just in case."

You raised your eyebrows, amusement dancing in your eyes. "You think I need to learn how to punch someone?"

Matt squeezed your wrist softly, tugging you gently toward him. "I'd feel better if you knew how."

You huffed a quiet laugh, stepping closer. "Fine. Show me your moves, Daredevil."

Matt grinned, stepping back slightly. "Alright. Feet apart, shoulder-width."

You mirrored him, adjusting your stance. "Like this?"

He hummed approvingly, circling you slowly. "Good. Keep your weight balanced. Hands up, protect your face."

You raised your fists awkwardly, eyebrows knitting together. "Now what?"

Matt smiled faintly, his voice warm and encouraging. "Punch forward with your dominant hand. Quick, firm motion. Rotate your hips into it."

You tried, punching awkwardly into the air. Matt shook his head, stepping close behind you and gently placing his hands at your waist.

"Turn your hips," he murmured softly, guiding your movement gently. "Like that. See?"

Your breath hitched slightly, heart skipping as you felt his solid warmth against your back. "Yeah, got it."

"Again," he said softly, stepping back slightly.

You punched forward again, more confident this time. Matt smiled, nodding slightly. "Better."

You smiled back, lowering your fists slightly. "Think I could take you in a fight now?"

Matt chuckled quietly, stepping closer again, fingers gently brushing your jaw. "Maybe if I were unconscious."

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. "Wow. Rude."

He smiled softly, tilting your chin up gently. "You know I'd never underestimate you, angel."

Your gaze softened, and you smiled warmly, reaching up and brushing your fingertips gently across the smooth red fabric of his suit. "Good. Because you'd lose."

Matt laughed quietly, pressing his forehead softly to yours. "Probably."

You smiled, closing your eyes as you tilted your head up, capturing his lips softly. He hummed quietly against your mouth, pulling you gently closer.

You pulled back slightly, smirking softly. "Thanks for the lesson, devil boy."

He smiled warmly, voice quiet. "Anytime, sweetheart."

---

Turns out, knowing how to throw a punch wouldn’t help you in this situation.

You had left Stark Tower and made your way to the parking garage, only to have a rag thrown over your nose and mouth. Your pepper spray—along with your keys and purse—fell uselessly to the ground.

When you woke up, your hands were tied behind you as you sat on an uncomfortable metal chair. You blinked at the large man standing in front of you; you were so drugged up you swore it was Jason Momoa.

“Aquaman? I thought you weren’t real.”

The man blinked slowly, looking momentarily baffled. "I’m not—I'm not Aquaman."

"You sure?" you squinted at him, shifting uncomfortably. "Because you're huge. Like, Jason Momoa huge. Not complaining or anything—wait. Actually, I'm definitely complaining because you've tied me up. Why exactly am I tied up? Did Stark fire someone again? Is this about Levi flooding the lab? Because I already told HR, it's not my fault he’s a walking disaster."

The big guy's jaw ticked, clearly confused. "What? No—this has nothing to do with Stark."

"Nothing?" Your eyebrows shot up, almost offended. "Nothing? Seriously? I'm literally lead engineer. I'm a pretty big deal, okay? I mean, there’s tons of classified stuff I know—security protocols, blueprints. If you're kidnapping people, I feel like I should be targeted for my career, at least. It just seems rude otherwise."

He stared at you, mouth slightly agape. "You—you talk a lot."

You scoffed indignantly. "Okay, rude again. But it's not like you've asked me any decent questions. Aren't you supposed to interrogate me? Who taught you how to kidnap? Actually—please don't answer that. I really don't want details. I’ll be honest, I'm not really good with scary stuff. Horror movies? Instant nope. I can't even get through Coraline. That movie traumatized me as a child. Button eyes? Seriously, who thought that was okay for children? I'm genuinely asking."

"Stop," the guy groaned, rubbing his temples. "You need to—"

"Is this because of Daredevil?" you asked suddenly, realization dawning. "Oh my God, is this because you saw me kissing him? Because, look, he's cool and everything—but do you know how annoying it is to have your entire identity revolve around being Daredevil's girlfriend? I've got a master's in engineering, okay? From MIT. MIT! But all anyone cares about is that I kissed Daredevil."

The man stared at you blankly, entirely exhausted already. "I—we don't care about—"

"And honestly, he's not even the coolest superhero I've met," you continued conversationally. "Spider-Man brings me snacks sometimes when he visits. He climbs in through our window. Kind of like you guys did—wait, you didn't come through a window, did you? I was totally knocked out, so I'm genuinely curious."

He let out a deep sigh. "We brought you through the front door."

You tilted your head thoughtfully. "Really? Interesting choice. Wait—did you take my purse? Because my pepper spray is in there, and it's really expensive. Stark Tech-level expensive. I need it back."

He rubbed a hand down his face, visibly exhausted. "You're seriously not gonna shut up, are you?"

You shrugged innocently. "You're the interrogator. You're supposed to make me shut up. Are you new at this?"

He looked toward the door, muttering to himself. "I need backup."

"Maybe try someone a bit friendlier," you suggested helpfully. "Good cop, bad cop kind of thing? You seem like the bad cop type—no offense."

He turned sharply toward the door, calling out desperately. "Hey! Someone get in here. Please."

Another man stepped inside, eyebrows furrowed. "What's the problem?"

"She won't stop talking," your interrogator groaned. "She hasn't even answered one question."

You narrowed your eyes indignantly. "You haven't asked me any questions!"

The new guy folded his arms, annoyed. "Fine. What's Daredevil’s real name?"

You scoffed loudly, giving him an incredulous look. "Oh, right, because I'm definitely gonna tell you that. Listen, buddy—I have confidentiality clearances so high even the president would need permission to know half the stuff in my head. Do you really think I'd tell you Daredevil's name?"

The interrogators exchanged a long glance, clearly regretting their choices.

You leaned forward slightly. "Okay, fine. I'll give you one guess. Go ahead, guess his name."

"I'm not playing this game," the big guy muttered tiredly.

"You're really no fun," you huffed, leaning back. "It's Steve, by the way."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Steve?"

You nodded confidently. "Yep. Steve Daredevil. That's definitely it. Wait—shit. That actually sounds believable. Forget that. His name is Bruce Wayne."

The second man frowned. "Isn't that Batman?"

You sighed dramatically. "Wow. You caught me. Fine. You got me—his name is Daredevil."

The big guy clenched his fists, looking increasingly desperate. "Jesus Christ."

You perked up slightly. "Oh, are you religious? Because honestly, Daredevil's kind of Catholic. It's complicated. He does this whole guilt complex thing and confession and—"

"Stop," he groaned, pressing his fingers to his temples again. "For the love of God, stop talking."

"You literally kidnapped me to interrogate me," you said incredulously. "I feel like this is your fault."

The second guy shook his head slowly. "Honestly, she's got a point."

"Thank you!" you exclaimed. "See, this guy gets it. What's your name?"

He blinked, confused. "Um—Joe?"

You smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you, Joe. I'm Y/N. See, that's how proper introductions work."

Joe stared at you, utterly bewildered. "Right."

"Listen," the first guy finally snapped. "We're supposed to be threatening you. Can you just be quiet for a second so we can threaten you properly?"

You frowned deeply. "Not a fan of threats. Especially vague ones. Can't we skip it?"

A loud thud echoed from outside, followed by muffled shouts.

You brightened immediately. "Oh! Hey, sounds like he's here."

The two men shared another tired look.

A moment later, the door swung open, revealing Matt—fully suited as Daredevil, jaw clenched tightly.

The big guy exhaled in relief. "Thank God. Please—take her."

Matt tilted his head slightly, clearly confused. "Excuse me?"

"He means please save me, Daredevil," you clarified helpfully. "Because I’ve been kidnapped by really ineffective interrogators. You really should give them some pointers."

Matt sighed, clearly suppressing amusement. "Did you... annoy them into submission?"

You tilted your head thoughtfully. "Honestly, probably. But to be fair, they kidnapped me because of you. Not even for the highly confidential Stark Tech info I have. It's insulting, honestly."

Matt stepped further inside, voice quiet but amused. "I'm sure your ego will survive."

You shrugged dramatically. "Barely."

The big guy huffed again, exasperated. "Dude, seriously—take her."

Matt smirked faintly, voice dry. "Are you surrendering?"

Joe nodded rapidly. "Yes. Please."

Matt stepped toward you, quickly untying your wrists. "You okay, angel?"

You stretched slightly, rubbing your wrists. "Yep. Just annoyed. Next time, they should really pick someone who doesn't ramble when nervous."

Matt sighed softly, fighting a smile as he gently guided you toward the door. "I'll pass that along."

You shot a wave back at the two kidnappers. "Nice to meet you, Joe. Aquaman—please consider a different career."

Matt shook his head slightly as you stepped outside. "You are impossible."

You smiled sweetly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "And yet—"

He exhaled softly, finishing quietly, "Here I am."

[crystalbeetle888]

Second Chances Pt.2

Dog-hybrid 141 x Autistic-coded reader

Your world is turned upside down, when a stalker forces you to adopt a support-hybrid, leading you to meeting his friends and possibly biting off more than you can chew.

Word Count- 2600

Warnings- minor stalker/stalking, threats of violence, course language, descriptions of managed anxiety and depression, consumption of alcohol,

Master List

The next few weeks feel like a blur. You and John find your rhythm in the mundane things. He wakes up before you, making a pot of tea to share when you get up. You cook the both of you a well balanced breakfast, before doing the daily chores. Feeding your rabbit Pluto, doing a load of laundry, washing the morning dishes. You then take a short walk with him to your city center, dropping him off at the gym while you sit at a cafe across the road. You usually use this time to read, work on illustration commissions, or work on writing your books.

You sip on your iced-chocolate as you type away at your newest novel, a forbidden romance between a man cursed to be a werewolf and a woman disgusted with the world. You had your noise reducing earplugs in, so you didn't notice when an unwelcomed figure approached you from behind.

The tap on your shoulder frightens you, causing you to yelp and take out you ear plugs before turning around. There stands Derek, a guy you had only been on two dates with before he insisted on you 'spending the night' with him. As fucking if. Two measly pub meals, where you could barely even hear him over all the noise, and he thinks that's grounds for sex. What a fucking joke.

"Hay, I've been thinking about you lately. What a coincidence meeting you here," he smiles down at you. You try to stifle a grimace with little success, "Yeah.. I highly doubt that" you say bluntly before turning back to your laptop. He chuckles at you "You know, that dry humor of yours is gonna hurt someone's feelings one day".

You roll your eyes "Oh no" you say flatly. Derek chuckle again, before moving around you, sitting down across from you at your table. You look at him with annoyance, eyes wide and face twisted, like you just smelt something awful and slightly concerning.

"I don't remember inviting you to sit", "I just wanted to talk about how we left things..", "I don't want to talk to you. I'm no longer interested in you at all" you insist.

He nods his head slowly, pursing his lips in thought.

"I'm going to put my earplugs in now. I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to contact me anymore".

After he had tried to persuade you into spending the night with him, you turned your phone off and went device-free for a few days, just to clear your head. It disturbed you at how easily this man thought luring you to his house would be. And how casually he had lied about his true intentions with you. All that bullshit about 'building real connections', and being 'avidly against hookup culture'. He didn't give a shit about hookup culture, he liked hookup culture, he just wanted to trick you into participating. Which is super fucking wrong!

And once you turned your phone back on, you were bombarded with a bunch of freaky ass texts. 'Please I didn't mean it, I'm just having a rough time', 'You led me on, the least you could do is pay me back', 'Sorry about that last one I was drunk'.

What a fucking loser.

In the end you just decided to just block him with no explanation. But now he’s here, bothering you again.

You go to reach for your earplugs case, but he grasps your hand to stop you, “Just hear me out” he insists. Your body tenses at the unwanted contact, like you just touched something mushy in the bottom of the sink. “Let go of my fucking hand!” You raise your voice at him, not aware of the onlookers around you. His grip tightens, coiling like a snake, “You need to calm down, this isn’t a big deal..” “Let go!” You stand abruptly. Your chest heaves with adrenaline, your heart pounding in your ears as you give him an fiery stare.

Derek’s face goes pale as he stares back at you, or really, as he stares over your shoulder. “Everything alright?” John steps up beside you. Unsurprisingly, Derek let’s go of your hand at the sight of your hulking hybrid friend. Fucking coward.

“Everything’s cool man, no need to go all beast mode on me” Derek laughs nervously, throwing his hands up in defeat.

John doesn’t laugh, or really move at all, asides from hovering his hand over the small of your back. His pointed ears twitch as his sharp blue eyes remain focused on the man across from him.

Derek looks at you one last time before slowly backing away.

You let out a shuddered breath, you didn’t know you were holding in, “Thank you” you whisper. John’s hand gently ghosts your back “You alright?”, you nod in response “Yeah just a bit shaken up”.

“Let’s get you home then” he suggests quietly.

John hovers next to you as you pack away your belongings. Taking your bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he offers you his arm. Hesitantly, you place your hand on his thick forearm before beginning the walk back home.

From this position, you are made keenly aware of his altered physique. His form seemed larger, stretching his shirt tightly across his chest and bulging biceps. He also somehow seemed taller? You weren't sure, everything about him just seemed to be enhanced now, his features seemed sharper. John turns to look at you, snapping you out of your stare “Everything alright?" he asks.

You turn your head forwards, face flushing with embarrassment "Mhmm" you hum. Your heart beats uncomfortably fast and your stomach tingles with nerves. You weren't familiar with this bodily sensation. It felt somewhere between being happy and being anxious. You didn't like it. It was new, and new things frustrates you.

Finally arriving home, you let yourself in before making a B-line to your room. Stripping from your clothes, you quickly hop into the boiling hot shower, washing away any remaining feelings or smells of Derek. Despite that he only touched your hand, the fact that you didn't explicitly invite him to, makes you feel icky. Like, a full body disgusted, bugs crawling on the skin, slimy feeling, kind of icky.

The hot pelting water soothes your tense muscles, finally allowing you to relax.

Once you’ve been sufficiently decompressed, you toddle out of the bathroom, putting on some fresh trackie pants and an oversized shirt, before making your way back downstairs to continue with the rest of your day. “Are you alright?” John stands from the couch when you enter the room. “Yeah I just needed to clean myself, he had sticky hands” your body physically shivers at the thought of Derek’s touch.

“Anyways, I was thinking maybe I should try to get in touch with your pack members, organise a meet up or something” you swiftly change the subject, trying to put him out of your mind “So you can socialise and all” you say nonchalantly as you prepare lunch.

John stares for an uncomfortably long moment before nodding “I think that’s a great idea. I know who you can email to make that happen”

And after much back and forth emailing between you and Kate Laswell, she finally just offers to give you Simon’s number. Probably sick of being the middle man.

-Hi, this is (Y/N), I’m Johns guardian. Just wanted to reach out and see if we could organise a catchup sometime. Let me know when suits you. Hope this message finds you well.

-This is Simon. We’re free Saturday. Does the Duke Hotel at 1800 work?

-Yes! That works for us. Can’t wait to meet you guys, we’ll see you there!❤️

You weren’t sure if it was appropriate to send the heart, but all well, you’re sure he gets the point.

Your body is practically buzzing when Saturday finally rolls around, with excitement or anxiety, you weren’t sure. You pick out some casual and comfortable jeans, an oversized shirt that you tied at the front, your special ‘going out’ boots, and a large plaid shirt to throw over the top. Before making your way downstairs where John was waiting.

“Ready to go?” He asks, dressed nicely in some casual jeans, a fresh tee, and a dark grey coat. “Well don’t you look handsome, aye? I’m ready to go when you are” you say casually to him as you grab your purse off the hook. “Come on” you march out the and into the cool night, heading towards your car. Having failed to make the appropriate level of eye contact for the conversation, you completely missed John’s flushed expression. He wasn’t expecting you to compliment him so boldly and suddenly.

His tail stands stiffly in attention, his ears and eyes honed in to your movements as you walk past him to your car. Your earthy smelling body oil wafting through the air as you do. He watches you, like a predator stalking its prey. “Hello? Are you coming?” You call out to him.

Shaking his body he lets the feeling dissipate. ‘Not the right time’ he thinks to himself. Given your current situation and obvious sensitivities, John thought it’d be best to let any possible feelings have time to grow first. He wasn’t blind though, he could see you were an attractive person, and just knew the boys would make a move on you tonight. The thought irritated him.

The drive to the hotel was short, parking just up the road the two of you hop out before making your way up the street.

John stopping you just outside the door “Before we go in, I just wanted to say thank you, for putting in the effort” he gazes down at you, hand pressed gently to your upper arm. As not to scare you off.

Your heart swells “Oh that’s alright. You need to socialise too ya know?” you laugh, slightly flustered and not entirely sure what to say. John smiles down at you before opening his arms slightly “Can I..” he trails off hesitantly. You nod your head enthusiastically before pulling him into a hug. His thick arms enveloped you tightly, pulling a squeak out of you as he gives you a squeeze. The pressure, along with his naturally high body temperature is comforting. Pair that with his general earthy-musky smell and you’re in sensory heaven.

Pulling away, you are left feeling more grounded than before. “Let’s not keep them waiting them, aye love” placing his hand on the small of your back, he leads you inside to a table where three dog-hybrids sit.

A Doberman-hybrid, with blond hair and brown eyes, wearing a dark hoodie and medical mask.

A German shepherd-hybrid, with dark curly hair, deep brown eyes and a trimmed moustache.

And a Cane Corso-hybrid with a brown mowhawk, and fresh cut facial hair.

“Evening lads” John pulls out your chair, before sitting down beside you. “It’s good to see you cap” the German shepherd-hybrid pats him on the shoulder. “I knew they couldn’t break you” the Cane Corso-hybrid smiles wildly at him, his thick Scottish accent echoes in your mind. The Doberman-hybrid doesn’t say anything, but raises his beer to his friend.

“So.. this is the lass taking care of you” the Corso looks at you eagerly. “Easy there Soap” John warns him.

“This is (Y/N), she’s my guardian now”, you smile at them shyly, suddenly forgetting your nerves “Hi, it’s nice to meet you guys”.

The three men size you up, the Scott sniffing the air intently. “This is Kyle or Gaz, Simon also known as Ghost, and..” “And I’m Johnny, or Soap if you’d prefer” he winks at you, offering his hand. Kyle scoffs at him “Control yourself mate”.

You laugh nervously, shaking his much larger and rougher hand “You guys have such interesting nicknames”

Johnny chuckles “Aye, you wanna know how I got mine”. Kyle groans. “She doesn’t give a shit mate” Simon grumbles, shaking his head, “It’s cause I can clean up the enemy” he boasts, flexing his pecs at the table. Mostly at you though. You and John laugh at their drunken antics.

The atmosphere was light tonight, with good drinks and easy conversation, you get along with John’s pack easily. However all those drinks have to catch up with your bladder at some point. “Excuse me for a moment” you whisper to John, who nods in acknowledgment. Getting up, you make a B-line for the bathroom.

John turns to his pack once you’re out of hearing range, “I need you lads to do me a favour” he says, his voice suddenly becoming serious. The three hybrids shift at their friend’s sudden change in attitude. “Whatever you need cap, we’ve got you” Johnny responds.

“I need you to deal with someone who’s bothering her. He’s becoming a problem” John explains. “Human?” Simon asks, John nodding in response. “Sounds easy enough then” Simon chuckles.

“She can’t ever know though, got it?” John stares at each of them with a hard glare. They all nod in agreement.

“So.. have you two mated yet?” Johnny grins cheekily at his pack mate. “Piss off” John barks, causing the table to erupt with laughter. “I fuckin bet that you two won’t last more than two weeks without doin it” Johnny teases.

“Leave him alone Johnny, you’re fuckin drunk” Kyle points at him from across the table.

“You’re wrong..” Simon says, capturing their attention, “They won’t last more than one week”.

The men laugh loudly as you approach the table, letting out a long yawn as you sit back in your seat, the day finally catching up to you. "Seems like it's time for us to go lads" John says, rising from his chair he lends you a hand to stand. "Oh I'm fine if you want to stay out longer" you respond. "Nah It's getting late, we should head in too lass" Johnny insists. Shrugging, you take Johns' hand and stand up.

The groups shares some quick goodbyes before parting ways. The journey back home was a blur, stumbling through the door you kick off your boots before trudging tiredly upstairs. John following close behind. Entering your room, you quickly change into your nighties, ready to jump straight into bed.

However, a knock at your bedroom door interrupts you. Opening it up, John stands there awkwardly “I just wanted to say that I’m grateful for tonight love. Thank you”.

You pout at him, feeling tired, drunk, and sentimental. “Oh John, it’s alright” you mumble, as you cuddle up to him for another hug. Hugging status unlocked. His strong arms embrace you again, rubbing comforting circles on your back. The sensation causing your eyes to droop and body to relax into him “You’re not falling asleep are you?” His hot whisky breath fans across your face.

You grunt in response, causing him to chuckle.

He leads you back to your bed, opening up the covers for you to crawl under. You, letting out little giggles, as he tucks you in and kisses your forehead. “Good night love” he whispers to you, before sneaking out of the room.

John wanders off to his own room, settling in his bed for the night. His thoughts drift back to his friends and what they said earlier. They were wrong. John intended on waiting for you. He was a patient man, and knows that the best things in life take time to grow. And he was more than willing to wait for someone as good as you.

[mahalachives]

Thank you for writing my request for acotar fics. Really if I'm going to be honest I didn't expect you to write it so quickly. But wowww. Again thank you and would you like consider to write a azriel and human mate reader where she has like tablet as well as a telephone and earphones and she explains a technology to inner circle.

Title: Tech Support: Velaris Edition

pairing: azriel x human!mate reader

Hope you enjoy!

The first time Azriel saw you talking to yourself, he thought you were mad.

The second time, when you told him you were “on a call,” he genuinely started to worry about your sanity.

By the third time, you had pulled out what you called a tablet, and suddenly, the entire Inner Circle got involved.

And so here you were, seated in the House of Wind, facing a very skeptical group of Fae while Azriel stood protectively beside you, arms crossed but utterly amused.

You did not expect absolute chaos.

It started when you pulled out your phone.

“This,” you said, holding it up like it was the Cauldron itself, “is a cell phone.”

The room stared at the tiny glowing rectangle in your hands like it was a live bomb.

Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, narrowed his eyes. “It’s…glowing.”

“Yes.”

Cassian unsheathed a dagger. “Kill it.”

“CASSIAN, NO—”

Azriel, standing protectively beside you, let out a suffering sigh as you shoved Cassian’s arm down. “It’s not alive, you battle-obsessed maniac.”

“Are you sure?” Amren drawled, unimpressed. “Because that thing hummed.”

“It vibrated—it’s a notification!” You waved your hand. “It’s how I get messages!”

Rhys leaned forward, smirking. “So, humans store voices in tiny glowing bricks now?”

“… I hate how accurate that sounds.”

Nesta arched a brow. “So it’s like a magical book?”

“No, it’s better.” You clicked on a video, and the screen moved.

Cassian screamed.

Nesta dropped her tea.

Amren nearly fell out of her chair.

Feyre’s jaw hit the floor.

Rhysand, High Lord of Velaris, the most powerful High Fae in existence, flinched.

Mor gasped dramatically. “IT’S POSSESSED.”

Azriel—your lovely, brooding mate—only sighed deeper, rubbing his temples like this was the worst day of his life.

“IT’S JUST A VIDEO,” you shouted over their horrified screams.

“IT’S A TRAPPED SOUL,” Cassian accused, pointing a trembling finger at the phone.

“IT’S NOT—”

Nesta hissed at the screen.

Feyre, looking way too concerned, whispered to Rhys, “Should we… should we free it?”

“IT’S NOT TRAPPED,” you nearly shrieked.

Azriel put a calming hand on your shoulder. It did nothing.

“This is normal for humans,” he explained, attempting damage control.

Mor, still clutching her chest like she had seen a ghost, muttered, “Humans are terrifying.”

You groaned. “Okay, forget the phone. Let’s move on to the tablet.”

More skeptical looks.

You turned it on, and Rhys immediately backed up.

“I hate this,” he muttered.

Cassian squinted. “Why is it so big?”

“It’s just a bigger version of my phone!”

Nesta looked at the screen, unimpressed. “Does it also hold souls hostage?”

“…It’s literally just for books, movies, and drawing.” You clicked a random sketching app and made a quick doodle.

Silence.

Then—

Cassian leaned in. “You—you’re making magic symbols—”

“I AM DRAWING.”

“WITH LIGHT,” Feyre gasped.

“WITH MY FINGER.”

Rhys looked between you and Azriel. “You mated with a sorceress?”

Azriel sighed even harder. “She’s not a sorceress.”

“She controls light magic,” Mor insisted.

“Oh my god.”

Nesta pinched the bridge of her nose. “I thought nothing could be dumber than Cassian.”

Cassian gasped, clutching his chest. “Nesta, how could you?”

“Okay,” you groaned. “Forget the tablet—here, let’s try earphones.” You plugged them in and played music. “Put this in your ear.”

Mor eagerly took one.

The second the bass hit, her eyes flew open.

“WHAT. IS. HAPPENING?”

She grabbed Cassian’s arm. “DO YOU HEAR THAT? IT’S IN MY HEAD—”

Cassian yanked it away like it was a venomous snake. “GET IT OUT—IT’S CURSING HER—”

Azriel looked like he wanted to jump out the nearest window.

Rhysand, ever dramatic, massaged his temples. “Mother above, why did I let her do this?”

Nesta, still sipping her tea, shrugged. “I think we should let them suffer.”

Cassian—who had immediately shoved both earphones into his ears—jumped to his feet.

“THIS,” he declared, “IS THE GREATEST THING HUMANS HAVE EVER CREATED.”

You smirked. “Told you.”

Cassian whipped around to Rhys. “BRO, WE NEED THIS AT RITA’S.”

“No."

“PLEASE.”

“Absolutely not.”

Cassian was already running. “I’M STEALING THIS—”

Azriel extended a foot, expertly tripping him.

Cassian ate the floor.

Azriel plucked your phone from his unconscious hand and handed it back to you.

You smiled up at your mate. “Thanks, love.”

Azriel sighed. “You’re never showing them the internet.”

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 6 - How to Infiltrate a Terror Cell

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: Violence, sexual remarks/touching, use of weapons, description of injuries, implied torture, blood, death.

AN: This one really got away from me. These mini fics are supposed to be 'short' and easy to write.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

AO3

Enjoy <3

It's the worst idea you’ve ever heard. But here you are nodding at Price while he lays out the plan.

“First things first we need to confirm Konni have Alex. Then we focus on Makarov.” 

“I know one of the guards who works in the prison wing. He’ll be my way in.” You explain.

“Makarov will be harder. He's always surrounded by his best soldiers. I can probably find out what he's doing here but as for getting an audience with him or even getting near him it’s going to be next to impossible.” You explain. Price hums laying back on the sofa.

“Find out why he's here then we get Alex out. Rendezvous with the ULF and make a plan from there.” Price says. 

“As soon as we spring Alex that's it. There's no way I will be getting back in there.” You say raising an eyebrow.

“That's why it's important you get as much Intel before getting him out.” You nod standing up. 

“Here.” Gaz says coming over to you and handing you a USB. You take it raising an eyebrow. 

“Plug it into any computer and it will copy all the files over.” He says, you nod at him, he lingers for longer then he needs to. Maybe he’s warming up to you too. 

“When you find Alex, tell him 141 sent you. He’ll know to trust you.”

“Are you sure?” You ask sceptical. You know if they’ve been trying to get info out of him it’s very unlikely he will trust you, or anyone for that matter of fact. You might have to resort to dragging him out.

“I’m sure.” You sigh looking out the window. The sun is coming up. You should leave sooner rather than later, it’s a few miles back to the border, wait any longer and the story you’ve constructed might not make sense. You go over to pull your jacket on.

“I should get going.” 

“We’ll be waiting at the rendezvous point.” price says. You nod looking round the room. Maybe they won’t wish you luck. Maybe they don’t mind if you die, one less thing for them to worry about.

“Good luck.” Gaz calls. That you didn’t expect. You smile at him. 

...

“You said Farah’s forces where moving north not fucking marines.” You snap at your handler, Ivan. He called for you as soon as you made it into the base. It was early morning, most people had gone to meet Makarov's entourage, apparently, the place was running on a skeleton crew. 

Good, easier for you.

“The packages?” 

“Dead.”

“Shit, they were tech specialists, Al Qatala needed them.” 

“Explains why they were shit lookouts.” You mutter under your breath. The other man in the room catches that and you look over at him. You don’t recognise him, he’s barely said a word since you entered the room. Just looks at you now and then from over his laptop.

“Why did they let you live?” He asks, his accent is thicker, he’s not from round here. Maybe he’s not even Russian at all.

“I patched up one of their injured. They let me live.” 

“Which way did they go?”

“West.” You lie. Both the men look at eachother then back down at the map.

“Sakhra?” Ivan asks.

“Makes sense If they have one injured they’ll want to head to a neutral hospital or a ULF. The Americans have been getting too close to the border for my liking.” The other man says shrugging. 

“How sure are you that they're heading west?” 

“I overheard them talking before they left.” You explain.

“Well, I have to deal with a very angry Al Qatala contact. You better get yourself ready. Makarov will have jobs for you I'm sure.” Ivan says. 

“Wouldn't want to fuck them up.” The other man says.

“What's he doing here? Makarov?” You ask as the Ivan turns away. 

“Not really any of your business but let's just say he's planning a nice surprise for the ULF. And now we have an American who knows all their movements there's no way we miss.” The other man says. 

“Has he talked?” 

“Not yet, but he will. The Butchers on his way. A little gift from Al Qatala.” Ivan says. Shit. You have to move quick if you’re going to get him out here it has to be now. You leave the room, closing the door behind you. Before you head to the prison wing you skip into the handlers office. He never locks it, he's going to regret that. 

You plug the USB into the computer and a loading bar starts. You look round the desk, looking at the papers for anything interesting. Your heart is hammering in your chest, you keep looking up to the door hoping no one will come in.

You look back at the PC, it's only 50% done. You start to look through the drawers for anything, even if it is just to keep you busy. You see plans, plans for some kind of weapon. You take them out, folding them up and shove them into your pocket. 

The transfer is almost done. You hear a door close, you’re holding your breath, your hands run over the papers on the desk. You hear the Ivan's voice 90%. You panic, he’s probably coming to his office, you need to distract him. You go round to the other side of the desk leaning against it. You hear a beep on the computer, the USB must be done, you reach over pulling it out and shoving it in the pocket with the papers. 

You only just manage to compose yourself as he walks in. A smile grows on his face. He walks up to you, his hand resting on your hip.

“You’ve got me in a whole bunch of trouble. Least you could do is make it worth my while.” He says, you can smell the vodka on his breath as he leans in to kiss your neck. You don’t have time for this, one of his hands slips round to grab your ass. It’s like he wants to pick you up and put you on the desk.

“Ivan,” you breath as his hand presses dangerously close to the other back pocket. He pulls his mouth off your neck. “I have stuff to do.” 

“Yeah you do.” He says with that stupid grin on his face before pressing his lips onto you. Normally you wouldn’t mind but you’re about to betray him this feels wrong. You push him off you. He huffs crossing his arms.

“I really have to get ready. Besides, don't you have to prepare for our special VIP?” You say, he tips his head to the side you can tell he’s not happy about this. He steps away walking round to the other side of his desk and you turn with him.

“Fuck Makarov, this whole plan is pointless. The American is not going to talk, he’s rushing into this too quickly.” 

“What does he want?” You ask, maybe now you’re alone he’ll give you some more answers. 

“He wants to take over the northern territories.” 

“Of Urzikstan?” Ivan nods. “He’s crazy, he’ll turn Al Qatala against him.” 

“He wants to use it as a bargaining chip.” he says. 

“Not going to be much bargaining if he’s dead.” You scoff crossing your arms. That explains why he’s so nonchalant about upsetting Al Qatala, when Makarov is done, lost techs will be the least of their worries. 

“On top of that he’s got us chasing some military unit helping Farah.” Your stomach sinks. 

“Military unit?” You ask, swallowing the nerves.

“Yeah 141 or something. Anyway, I’ve had people looking for them for weeks. We don’t even know if they’re still in the country.” He says going to type on his computer. You need to leave. Get Alex and leave.

“Well, if I find them I’ll let you know.” You say heading for the door. He chuckles. 

“Hey.” He calls as you’re about to close the door. “You’ll be back later right? I’ve missed you.” He hasn’t missed you, he’s missed sex. You smile and nod at him. 

…

“You look like shit.” Caleb says offering you the last of his cigarette. You take it sucking a deep breath in and letting it calm you. It didn’t take you long to walk over to the prison building, of course Caleb was already waiting for you, he waved at you when he saw you walk through the front gate.

“Heard you fucked your job.” He chuckles.

“Hear a lot with those massive ears of yours.” You say reaching up to flick him. He bats your hand away. “Thought you would be out with the others going to pick up Makarov?” 

“Fuck that.” He laughs, you smile, throwing the butt on the floor and stamping it out. You follow him back into the prison wing. It’s not really a prison, this whole building used to be a school or something, it’s been abandoned for years. Well until Konni and Makarov took it over. 

“Heard you’ve got an American here?” You ask looking round at the shabby built cells. 

“Yeah.” He says pointing down the hall. There are at least two other guards. Hopefully you can get Caleb to turn a blind eye, then you only need to worry about them. And the guards on the gate, and the extra security that will come after you as soon as they know there’s been a break out. 

“Heard The Butchers coming to question him.” 

“Oof, unlucky guy.” He winces. You walk down a different hall with him. There are only a few people in the makeshift cells, most of them are converted offices. 

“Anyway, how did you manage to mess up your job?”

“Marines came in and caught me off guard. No one warned me there were Americans around.” You say sticking to the made up story. 

“At least you’ve been out doing something. Ivan has the whole place on edge with this Makarov visit. Maybe it’s good you came back early. Calm him down.” He jokes nudging you. You roll your eyes. Nudging him back. It’s just sex, mindless stupid sex. And yeah maybe Ivan looks away when you fuck up from time to time, like today. 

“What did he get bored of the cook house girl?” You tease back, Caleb laughs. You walk on a little further mustering up the confidence to ask him. You have to be careful, out of anyone you want Caleb to get hurt the least. You’re going to miss your chats with him. 

“I need a favor.” You say stopping him and gripping his arm. He frowns at you, he seems to sense the unease in your voice looking around before leaning in closer to you. 

“The American. I need to talk to him. 30 seconds alone.” You say trying your best not to sound nervous. 

“Are you crazy? Ivan’s got that shit locked down. No one is allowed to look in his direction let alone talk to him.” Caleb whispers gripping your arm. 

“I’ll deal with Ivan.” You say. “You owe me, remember?” He shakes his head. 

“Not this, they’ll kill me if anything happens to him.” 

“You owe me.” You say again this time gritting your teeth, you don’t exactly have time to negotiate. He sighs looking around. 

“30 seconds. No more.” He says. You smile reaching up and kissing his cheek. 

“Thank you.” He shakes his head and calls the other guards over. You move past them pretending to head for the exit before turning down the hall where Caleb pointed earlier. You take the key off the wall opening the door. There’s a man sitting on the bed. He springs up as soon as you step in.

“I was sent by 141. Are you Alex?” You ask, holding your arms out. He nods, frowning, as well as he can, his head is bruised and one of his eyes is swollen. The few clothes they’ve left him in are drenched through and he’s holding his other arm like it’s broken. “I’m here to get you out. I don’t have time to explain, you just need to trust me.” You say leaving the room. He hesitates a second then follows you. You go over to the guards table and pick up a weapon, loading it and putting another mag in your pocket. 

“Can you walk?” You ask, trying to keep an eye on the door Caleb would have taken the guards through. As soon as they see you they’ll open fire and sound the alarm. You need to leave. You start to head towards the door, clicking the safety off your gun. You quickly look behind you to make sure Alex is following, he is but too slow for your liking. 

Before you can tell him to hurry the door at the end of the room opens. A guard looks at you, his eyes then flick to Alex. You don’t have time to think you bring the weapon up and shoot him. 

Move! Your brain screams. The shot will have alerted people. Alex makes it over you and you practically drag him through the door out into the courtyard. A shot rings out and you pull him round the side of a building. You look back to see Caleb shouting orders as more guards run round. 

You look over at the entrance of the base. It’s close but you have to get over the wall, which means you’re going to have to fight. 

“We’re going to have to hop that wall. Think you can manage that?” You ask as you turn to Alex. He nods and opens his mouth but before he has a chance to say anything more shots ring out hitting the wall where you’re hiding. 

It’s now or never. You jump out from behind the building and sprint across to the wall. You hear Caleb call your name as you throw yourself over the wall rolling down the embankment. You hear Alex groan out in pain, he’s definitely got something broken. You get to your knees watching him writhe in pain. You don’t have time for this. Alarms ring out. Now you really don’t have time for this. You look over to the entrance. The gates are being locked. Great now you’re going to need to get keys. 

At least that's easy to do if the person is dead. You reach over gripping Alex’s arm pulling him to his feet. He cries out in pain, you don’t have time to worry about it as more shots ring out. You can see Caleb running across towards you, you pull Alex over the drain and up the opposite embankment. You let go of his arm to open fire on the guards in front of you. There’s only two of them, at the gate. 

You take cover behind the inspection booth, Alex kneels down beside you. You hand him your gun.

“I need to get a key, cover me.” You say. You don’t know if you trust him, or if he’ll even be a good shot but he’s better than nothing. He nods, you crawl out over to one of the bodies. Shots ring out behind you. Well he’s not killed you yet. You fumble around the guards belt and pockets. Nothing.

“Shit!” you call crawling over to the other guard out in the open. More shots ring out, from in front and behind you. Alex must have picked up a weapon off the guard. You find the ring of keys clipped on the guards belt. Your hands are shaking from adrenaline as you try to unhook them.

“Watch out!” Alex shouts. You don’t get time to look up before someone kicks you in the back. You look over at Alex fumbling with a mag. A shot rings out and he ducks behind the booth just in time. 

“Fuck.” You say pulling yourself to your feet. You’re surprised the person lets you get up. Before you can turn though a pain radiates in your side.

It’s worse than anything you’ve ever felt before. Have you been shot? When you finish turning you see a guard. Before you have time to react his head explodes into and he lands beside you. You look over at Alex, he’s still fumbling with the clip. 

You turn to see Caleb bringing his weapon down to his side, he looks sad, he’s your friend and you're betraying him. You reach down to touch where the pain is. Your head is swimming, your hands feel blood, then cold metal. There’s a knife, you’ve been stabbed.

“No!” you yell at Alex as he comes back from round the booth, his weapon drawn. Caleb holds up the keys, you smile at him. He pushes past you, opening the gate. You stumble over, each step sending shooting pains through your body.  

“You owe me!” Caleb says as he throws his arm around you. You lean up against him as he half drags you into the tree line.

“On the other side of the tree line. There’s a truck.” You say switching to English. 

“Rescue?” Caleb asks in English, you smile crying out in pain as you step over a fallen tree. 

“That's where 141 are waiting.” You say, it’s getting harder to focus, at least the sound of the alarm from the base isn’t ringing in your ears. 

“How do you know 141?” Alex asks as he watches round you, his weapon still drawn.

“It’s a long story.” You say breathless. You want to pull the knife out, it hurts so much. You know you shouldn't though. Not until you have something to pack the wound with. 

“Just keep going.” Caleb says, hitching you up tighter to him as you start to stumble. You can barely see what’s happening, the forest becoming a mix of blurry greens and browns. It feels like you’ve been walking for miles when you hear the engine of a truck. It makes your adrenaline spike, giving you a brief moment of clarity as you make it to the edge of the tree line.

“It’s them!” You hear the familiar Scottish accent. The sun blinds you as you make it through the trees. 

“Shit, what happened?” You hear someone ask, there are more hands on you now. You’re picked up.

“Who are you?” A gun clicks.

“Caleb, friend.” Is all you manage to say. You hear whoever is holding you curse under his breath. You’re pulled into the back of the truck on the floor. It makes you cry out again, your hand going to your wound. There’s banging and clattering. You don't have time to question how they got their hands on an military truck.

“Hey, lass, c’mon stay with us we’ll get you sorted.” It’s Soap. You look out through the back of the truck, you can see Price with his hand on Alex’s shoulder, Gaz taking the weapon out Caleb's hand. Then you see it in the distance, a truck. 

Price notices it too. He helps Alex get in the truck next to you, closing the back.

“Ghost, let's move!” He shouts. Gaz has vanished, you hear a door slam. Price pulls himself in the truck holding his arm out for Caleb. It doesn’t matter though.

Shots ring out, they hit the truck, you see Price duck, then the flash of blood. Caleb's hit, his body goes limp and falls to the floor as the truck pulls away. 

You’re not sure what happens next. Your scream fills the air as you watch Caleb's body get smaller covered in the dirt kicked up by the truck. Someone is pressing your body down. Suddenly Price is leaning over you, more shots ring out hitting the truck. You feel tears stream down your face. You got him killed, the only person you didn’t want to get hurt. 

“Alex! Cover fire!” You watch as Price hands him an AR, they both move down to the end of the truck returning fire. Your body is being flung from side to side as the truck drives out the forest and onto a road. 

You don’t care what happens now, you don’t care if you die. You did your job, you got Alex out. You close your eyes letting out a breath. 

“No, no, no! Eyes open c’mon!” It’s Soap again. Your eyes snap open as he shakes you. The gunfire dies down, maybe you’ve lost them. Maybe they won’t follow you out on a main road.

“Caleb.” You say. “His name was Caleb.” Soap frowns for a second then lets out a sigh. 

“Johnny.” He says. 

“Nice to meet you Johnny.” You smile. He smiles back. You can’t stay awake anymore. Your head is spinning, black spots fade into your vision. He calls out to you, shaking you but you just can’t stay awake. Your last thought is of Caleb as everything goes black. 

next

Banners by plum98

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Idia Shroud - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Mister S's Mystery Shop]

Idia: …Hrrm, I can't find the 15th Anniversary special Star Rogue diorama.

Idia: I told Sam-shi I'd look for it myself, so I wouldn't have to deal with him talking to me, but… There's way too much stuff here to look through!

Idia: And I came all this way 'cause I wasn't fast enough to get it online.

Idia: I can't go back empty-handed after telling Ortho that there's no way I wouldn't get my hands on one as a number one fanboy!

Idia: Oho? This shelf over here has a ton of specialty figures and other hobby stuff… EEHHHH!?

[products fall of shelf]

Idia: OUCH! OW OW OW!!

Jack: Woah!? That was close! Some of the falling goods almost scraped by my nose…

Idia: I-I-I didn't do anything! They just fell off on their own since they were thrown haphazardly onto the shelf!!

[Idia runs away]

Jack: Huh? No one said it was your fault or nothin'…

Jack: …What the, he's already gone! Idia-senpai… He looks slow and frail, but is he secretly actually pretty nimble?

Jack: Oh, man, and he just left everything on the ground. Ugh, I guess I'll have to…

Jack: …Hm? Isn't this box the one Ortho mentioned today…?

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: …Haah. And in the end, I just ran away… Without a Star Rogue diorama…

Idia: It's all because they sold it first-come-first-serve, instead of pre-order... Not my fault what happened earlier…

Idia: If I went back now, that terrifying beast of a man from Savanaclaw might still be there. I'll try again tomorrow…

Idia: K. Now that I've decide that, time to get all the annoying dorm work stuff done!

Idia: Uhhh, so, the notices I have to give the other dorm students are… Oh, right, the equipment replacement schedule, and the AC inspection time.

Idia: Just in case, I'll add "Important", "Good News", "Response Required", and "Read Immediately" to the subject… K, sent.

Idia: It sure is hard work bein' a Housewarden. Thought it's not that bad since I implemented a chat app once I became Housewarden.

Idia: Efficiency above all! No face-to-face meetings! Conserving my own energy is the best way to do things!

Idia: Finished all my Housewarden tasks, and even took a shower, as annoying as it is. I'm awesome. I'd give myself 100,000,000 points out of 100.

Idia: Nice, so… It's finally me time!

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: Ah, I got a message from Ortho… He's spending the night in the first year rooms, huh.

Idia: Then, I guess I can just game all night by myself! Fheeheehee!

 [beep, beep!]

Idia: Hm…? What's with this reminder…? Man, right when I was getting into things.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Idia: Ugh.. Right, that was a thing. You don't really see paper surveys anymore. Let me think, it should be around… Yep, here it is.

Idia: Uhhh, so what, they want to know what I'd like improved? I mean, kinda late to ask a third-year, isn't it? I can't really think of anything.

Idia: Sides, there were stuff I used to not like about the dorm, but I already made upgrades to all that stuff.

Idia: We soundproofed the walls and floors, installed commercial-grade AC, and the dorm-wide servers are of my own technical specs.

Idia: To live the perfect shut-in life, we can't not have walls that can't take loud shouting, or ACs that can't keep overclocked PCs cool, so～

Idia: …Ah, wait a mo'. I just thought of one issue I got. "There's not enough electrical outlets"!!

Idia: This kinda stuff needed specialized qualifications to do, so it's not like I coulda bought the parts and DIY it.

Idia: I'm using a power strip for now 'cause I have to, but I hate how the wiring just looks like spaghetti. Even a master wiring tech like myself can't stand a sight like that!

Idia: Oh, I just thought of one more thing. "I want to have the low-capacity breaker replaced"!

Idia: It's so weak that the breaker flips just 'cause I try to have 4 computers, the server, a 3D printer, microwave, and electric kettle all plugged in at once!

Idia: I mean, I'd set up a UPS (uninterruptible power supply) system in case of emergencies, so my computers and server was fine, but...

Idia: Because of that, my plan to add an AC unit and a refrigerator in my room went out the window. That was a nightmare. Oh, and…

Idia: …Dyehehe. I said I couldn't really think of any, but it's hilarious how the ideas keep flowin' out.

Idia: I'll attach some of the numbers we have on the cost of estimated damages by having Ignihyde students continue to use those useless breakers.

Idia: The Headmage is pretty much influenced by profits, so. If I explain how it's necessary to get better equipment, then he might listen to improvement suggestions.

Idia: Nice, mission clear. Time to watch some new anime episodes while grinding levels in my gams.

Idia: See, nothing beats watching anime while mindlessly leveling… Ooh, I pulled a rare one!

Idia: I thought I'd be bored of this anime 3 episodes in, too, but it's actually starting to get interesting!

Idia: Well, now that the mood's getting good, I just gotta let loose! TIME FOR A SNACK PARTY!!

Idia: …Huh? I'm out of my favorite snack. Ugh, I completely forgot to re-order some more when I ate all of it last time.

Idia: If only the Mystery Shop had 24-hour delivery service… Maybe I should add that to the survey?

Idia: Nah, nevermind, I should just focus on the anime. NOTHING'S GONNA BRING ME DOWN!

Idia: Woah, the animation's clean…! They're all movin' so smoothly… Maybe the production team changed this week?

Idia: I'm getting pretty into the main theme song, too! Heehee, fheeheehee…!

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: Urrghnn… Aaarghh…

[～♪]

Idia: Gah! Urgh, what's that noise…? What time is it right now…?

Idia: Urk! Everything's so bright, I can't see anything… How's it morning already…? Wait, before that, where'd that noise come from…!?

Idia: Huh…? Ortho…? Weren't you spending the night with the other first years…? Oh wait, is this just a message…?

Idia: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY"…? Oh, right, today's my birthday! I completely forgot, since there wasn't anything to look forward to…

Idia: I'll just write back… Thanks, Ortho.

Idia: Urp…! But now I feel a bit sick…! And my whole body hurts…!

Idia: I fell asleep running my games, and I'm just stiff all over. Can't I just go move to my bed and go back to sleep?

Idia: Nah, if I end up crashing and forget to login and get all the birthday login voice lines, I'll never recover. Gotta wash my face or something…

Idia: Woah, I can see how crazy my bedhead is reflected in the monitor! I think this every time, but why does my hair end up this bad whenever I fall asleep at my desk?

Idia: Kinda looks punk, but that's totally a different vibe from my usual, lawl.

Idia: Meh, my hair can be whatever. Not like anyone looks at me, anyway.

Idia: It's a pain to go all the way to the washroom… I'll just use magic like I normally do. I'll chill the water, then.

[splash!]

Idia: WHEEEEW, THAT COLD WATER HITS JUST RIGHT!!

Idia: Normally, I'd just leave it here, but… My face feels so dry after pulling that all-nighter.

Idia: But I'm all good. I'm a functioning nerd, so I know how to fix it.

Idia: Ta-da～ I don't really get it, but here I go with the number one most popular all-in-one cream～

Idia: Putting on lotion and moisturizer one at a time is a waste of time. Just plap it on, and ta-da, done. Next is my clothes…

Idia: Nah, nevermind, I'm not gonna change. Now all I have to do is to jump into all my games and collect the birthday login voice lines. Fheeheehee.

Idia: Perf, I've gotten them all for now. …Huh? There's another message from Ortho…

Idia: …HUH!? HE GOT THE 15TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL STAR ROGUE DIORAMA!? SERIOUSLY!?

Idia: "I was planning on picking it up in the Mystery Shop after classes, but if you can't wait, you can go pick it up whenever"…?

Idia: Well, I gotta go right now, then! That means I have to finish getting ready.

Idia: I don't really wanna go outside, but… I can't keep my poor Star Rogue waiting! Hyah!

[Idia magics hair and clothes]

Idia: K, bedhead fixed. And now, onwards, to the Mystery Shop!!

[Main Street]

Idia: Fheeheehee…! Look at this craftsmanship…! It looks just like the scene I imagined as a kid!

Idia: Ortho… Did you look for this Star Rogue diorama because you knew I was sad I didn't get it?

Idia: Wheew～ The best thing in the world is a little brother who thinks the world of his older brother, and is really good at search functions～!

Jack: Hm? Is that… Idia-senpai? Good morning.

Idia: GYAAAAAA!? J-Jack-shi…? Why are we making contact two days in a row…?

Jack: I mean, it's not really anything, but… I heard from Ortho yesterday that today was your birthday, is all.

[Idia runs away]

Jack: Happy Birthday. So, uh, did you get what you were looking…

Jack: Huh, he's already gone! Ugh, I don't get him at all.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[bitchface24-7]

You were so so right about everything being smut like please please please some fluff or something

On the request note, can we get some reader cuddling Jayce after he has a nightmare and making sure he is fine, all warm and toasty under the comforter, playing with his hair maybe scratching his beard? I am such a sucker for nightmare hurt/comfort😩😩😩😩

I’M RIGHT HERE, SEE? - JAYCE X READER

synopsis: everyone suffers the odd nightmare or two. Its a normal occurrence. Now, when one has PTSD due to the cold, and it’s a cold winter’s night. Your brain may take you back some place you never wished to see again.

warnings: jayce has a nightmare and wakes up in a panic, he cries silently as he checks up on you, you wake up and comfort him, hurt/comfort, reassurance, sleepy cuddles, playing with hair, listening to heartbeats

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. I love this idea! I'm so happy that people like my writing enough to give me their ideas to jot down for the rest of you. Makes my heart flutter every time I see my inbox has something in it.

Jayce hates the cold, he hates winter. He can't stand it. It makes his palms sweat, his breathing pick up, and he feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

Ever since he and his mom were stuck in that blizzard, he can't see the snow or the cold the same way again. Its why he has such an obsessive love for magic. Magic saved him and his mom.

But it's not saving him now.

He's trying his best to shield you from the storm, using his much larger body compared to when he was a kid to protect you from the biting wind and icy snow.

But it’s useless. Your body is stiff, unmoving. Its cold to the touch, your lips are blue as are your nails.

You're experiencing hypothermia. No, you experienced hypothermia.

You're dead.

You're dead and it’s all Jayce's fault. He couldn't protect you, he couldn't keep you safe, he couldn't rely on magic this time to save you both. You're dead.

Jayce picks up your dead body and cries. He cries his heart out. He wails into the night sky begging and praying to gods he hasn't even thought of to save you.

To take him instead.

He puts his head your chest and whimpers when he doesn't hear that familiar beat.

He—

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He wakes up with a strangled gasp, shivering due to the night times fresh breeze. He's hyperventilating. His breathing slowly comes down to a normal pace when he realizes he's in your shared bedroom. He sees the basic night light plugged into the wall, he sees your wardrobe and dressed. He can faintly see the paintings on the wall.

Jayce covers his mouth with one of his hands and weeps silently. He looks over and sees you resting peacefully. He needs to make sure you're alive. He puts his hand on your back and feels the slight rise and fall of your breathing, he feels the warmth of your skin.

You're alive.

You're grumbling now as you slowly wake up.

You rub your eyes and sleepily ask, “Jayce? What's wrong? Why’re you up at—” You take a glance over to your bedside table, “Two forty-five in the morning?”

Your sleepiness vanishes when you turn over and see Jayce's watery eyes and the fact he's crying silently. You scooch over and immediately wrap your arms around him, putting his head on your chest as you run your hand through his hair. The other hand rubs his back.

“Shh Jayce. Shhhh. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it wasn't real. You're okay.”

Jayce's crying slowly halts as your comfort takes over his mind. You stay like that for a few minutes before you break the silence, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jayce purses his lips and nods lightly. You continue to stroke his back and play with his hair as he speaks in a desolate tone. You never want to hear that tone a voice again, “We were stuck in a blizzard. Like the one my m—mum and I were in as a kid. Except— except there wasn't a mage there to save us. I tried everything to save you but you still died! You died and it was my fault!”

As Jayce gets amped up due to his dispair, you lightly shush him, kissing his forehead, “Jayce, I'm right here, see? Listen to my heart. It’s beating just fine.”

Jayce does just that, he presses his head firmly into your chest and closes his eyes, then he hears it.

Thu-thump

Thu-thump

Thu-thump

Thu-thump

A shaky sigh leaves his lips. There it is. There's your heartbeat. At the confirmation of you being okay, Jayce's anxiety levels drop. He feels exhausted. He never wants to experience fear like that again; even if it's false.

Seeing how serene Jayce is, you tuck the blankets over you two, ensuring not a speak of Jayce was left out in the fresh night breeze. You continue to physically ground him, playing with his hair, rubbing circles into his back, scratching his beard lightly and tracing his features.

Eventually, Jayce falls back to sleep, much more tranquil than he was before. In what feels like no time you fall asleep too, with a hand left in Jayce's hair and one on his back. He's the perfect weighted blanket.

You hope Jayce never experiences a nightmare like that again, but if he does; you’re there to take care of him.

This one is quite short but I hope it still hits all the feels. This one was nice to write, but I didn't want to drag it out too much. It'd feel disingenuous if I did that. Asks are still open (I can't imagine closing them unless I get too many in one shot)