#If there was ever a mind control plot he'd be the one to fight it off the longest

[hajihiko]

As :| :| :| :| as the series was in general, DR3 gave me two of my absolute favorite bits of Fuyuhiko characterization: he was one of the handful of students showing up to class properly, and him fighting off the sexy soup's effects.

It WAS not great. But TBH seeing any bit of content for my favourite kids makes it worth it LOL

Agree tho! Like we sorta already knew but it just further confirms: stickler for rules (one might even say a goody two shoes but only when he feels like it) and willpower in absolute *spades* (and some caretaking instinct there too hehe)

#If there was ever a mind control plot he'd be the one to fight it off the longest #(we don't talk about the bs hypnosis thing) #Fuyuhiko drinks respect women juice but sometimes he unfortunately mixes it with Really Inappropriate Threat juice #I also like how absolutely nonplussed he was being threatened by his teacher. He thought it was fun #Sorry I just can't shut up about me boy. You get it #not an art

[ghostface-knight]

i'd like to present my concept of nightmare time episodes where every (or almost every) person is played by the same person, inspired by jaime lyn beatty in daddy. here are some ideas:

peter spankoffski is done being at the bottom of the hatchetfield high food chain, and so he seeks out help to become cooler. he comes across ethan green, who, having just been left by his girlfriend lex, decides, "what the hell, i'll mentor this kid on being cool". when ted spankoffski learns that his little brother is hanging out with "that no-good ethan green", he confronts pete about it, perhaps a little too harshly. his intentions are good, but when has anything ever gone the way he meant? ted, like everybody in town, knows about ethan's reputation, and he thinks he'll be a bad influence on pete. he knows that, if anyone can, pete can make it out of hatchetfield, and he doesn't want ethan screwing that up. so he confronts him, and one thing leads to another, and eventually pete storms out in anger. ted knows if he goes after pete immediately, he'll only make things worse, so he decides he'll let him have his moment of teenage rebellion and then reconcile with him after. a few hours later, ted spankoffski, now drinking his problems away, is approached by a mysterious man who has somehow gotten into ted's apartment. wilbur cross, as he introduces himself, half-convinces and half-mind controls ted into believing that ethan is responsible for this, and the only way to protect pete is to kill ethan. he storms into ethan's tiny basement apartment, wielding his now shattered bottle of booze, and prepared to rip him limb from limb with his new super-powered companion. ethan can hold his own, though, and the brawl is a tough match. eventually, though, ethan manages to get the remaining shard of the bottle and shove it straight through ted's chest. as this happens, pete comes out of ethan's bathroom, revealing that he'd gone to ethan for comfort after his fight with ted. ted bleeds out on ethan's floor as pete holds him.

ruth fleming has graduated high school, and she's lucky enough to find a super chill job as a farmhand on the farm of emma perkins. one day, as they do their usual work (which isn't much, to be honest), they are approached by linda monroe, who is all but seething. she's goes on about how drugs are evil and she will not raise her children in a town where such depravity is taking place. they threaten her off the property, and they think that'll be over and done with. it's not like they've never had to deal with moralistic creeps like her before, and they've always come out the other side. linda comes back the next day with a petition signed by just about every member of the hatchetfield boating society. yeah whatever, perky's buds is not going to be dismantled by some stupid rich people who think they have more power than they do. in the midst of this, they've recently recieved a new client: 17 year old hannah foster. a quiet kid from hatchetfield high, who seems to have joined the smoke club as a way to make some friends. emma and ruth don't think much of it -- neither of them have any qualms about selling to teenagers, and business is business. however, hannah keeps coming back for more and more, and ruth starts to wonder if there's something else going on. back in the linda plot, linda has taken to bringing people out to the farm to protest. each day she (or, more accurately, the people she's hired) come with more and more people holding cardboard signs and chanting. it's really starting to get on emma's nerves. one day, while hannah is picking up her purchase, linda, surrounded by a mob of angry parents and hatchetfield adults, returns. suddenly, linda no longer seems like a nuisance, but a legitimate threat. her followers carry weapons and the menacing smile on her face tells emma and ruth that she isn't messing around. as the mob breaks through the door of the farm house, emma and ruth urge hannah to look for shelter. hannah refuses though, and emma swears her eyes begin to gleam almost inhumanly. the mob makes it to them, and are suddenly thrown back by a wave of psychic energy so powerful it shatters the walls of the house. hannah's new powers (on account of the weed) leave emma, ruth, and herself standing unharmed in the middle of a surrounding pile of groaning, injured people.

i have a few other concepts, but this is getting super long so i better leave it here for now lmao

#hatchetfield #hatchetverse #long post #starkid #npmd #nerdy prudes must die #tgwdlm #nightmare time #the guy who didn't like musicals #black friday musical #nightmare time 2 #ethan green #peter spankoffski #ted spankoffski #wilbur cross #emma perkins #ruth fleming #linda monroe #hannah foster #fanfiction

[whiskey-bumblebee]

Let Me Put My Lips to Something

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Fem!Reader

Accessibility/Diversity notes: Reader taking birth control is central to the plot, in this one reader is a member of the BAU, reader has breasts and is shorter than hotch

Word Count: 3367

Warnings: extensive mentions of birth control, inappropriate workplace relationships, extensive innuendo, brief mention of guns

@ssamorganhotchner thank you for turning this into an actual idea <3 hope you enjoy ;)

It's been a few weeks since you stopped using birth control, and it's already affected your life more than you thought it would.

There was this guy you'd been seeing, Johnny, who was sweet enough, and patient with your hours. But as your hormones changed, it was as if he was a piece of fruit which had started to rot. You noticed that he chewed loudly, that he looked at your boobs instead of your face when you were talking, that his beard wasn't actually all that clean. His blue eyes, once kind and full of humour, started looking beady and demanding.

You sighed as you saw the three bubbles appear and disappear, bobbing up and down almost like a buoy in the ocean. He was clearly typing his response over and over. You couldn't blame him.

I'm so sorry, Johnny. I'm just finding it too hard to maintain a relationship and my job at the same time. I'm wishing you all the best. You're a lovely guy and I know you'll find an amazing person. Please, please understand that it's me, not you.

It was a neatly-crafted message. If only it was true.

In the end, he replied with a simple thumbs up and a smiley face.

Then there was your other problem. And here he was, right over your shoulder.

Aaron offered you a quick smile as he set your coffee down on your desk.

"Thanks, Hotch," You didn't look up, setting your phone face-down.

"You're welcome," He replied easily.

You and Hotch were working through some of the preliminary paperwork in some precinct in the middle of nowhere. Why didn't you ever have cases in the Catskills? Or Nantucket Island? Or Palm Springs?

Prentiss and Morgan were off doing interviews with locals, and Reid and JJ were... Honestly, you weren't actually sure. You weren't really listening. Your problem was requiring more of your attention than you'd like to admit. It was embarrassing, frankly. And now that he was back from the coffee run, your limited run of productivity would come to an end again.

Fortunately, if he'd noticed that you were having to re-read everything five times to comprehend it, he didn't mention it.

You tapped your pen irritatedly against the top corner of the file, and curled your hand into a fist over and over again, trying to work out some of your tension.

Sighing again, you took a sip of your coffee to try and still your mind. It was so fucking frustrating. Normally, you were sharp. Normally, you were an adult who could tune everything out. You were a good agent, it's what got you hired in the first place.

With your mind racing, you missed the table when you went to set your coffee down. You reacted just in time to catch it, but it sent a few drops splattering onto your pants nonetheless.

"Crap," You breathed.

Hotch raised his eyebrows at you. "Everything okay?"

You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath, fighting hard not to shout at him.

"Okay," He said, finally. "What's going on with you?"

"I spilled some coffee," You gestured towards your lap.

He left his desk and you watched as he asked one of the local officers something. He turned around and made eye contact with you, and you didn't care enough to pretend that you hadn't been looking at him. He gestured for you to come over to them.

"There's a bathroom just down the hall. They have a Tide pen for emergencies."

You nodded and walked in the direction he'd pointed in. You heard him following you, and you rolled your eyes.

"I'll be fine, Hotch."

He kept following you.

"I want to ask you something," He said firmly.

This side of the precinct was quieter, near the break room and the supply closet. If there was a place to yell at your boss, this was it. So you stopped, and turned to face him.

"Hotch, I'll be-"

"No," He shook his head. "What is going on with you? If there's something affecting your ability to work on this case, I need to know."

You glanced down either side of the hallway and tugged Hotch into the bathroom. He looked startled as you closed the door behind the both of you.

"This isn't appropriate-"

"You said you wanted to know." You said, lowering your voice. "So I'm going to tell you."

You walked towards him until his back was against the locked bathroom door. He put his hand on his hip, running his large hand over the fabric. For a moment it almost looked like he was going to touch himself. The thought made your knees weak. You closed your eyes and tried to steady yourself.

When you opened your eyes again, you realized he was searching your face for any indication of what was going on. He looked scared, and you glanced down at the hand that had been wandering his hip. It had stilled, now, and you realized that he was gripping his gun.

You backed up completely.

For a fleeting moment, you were grateful that this was one of the bigger station bathrooms you'd been in. There was an open shower, a sink, and a toilet, which gave you a little more space to put between you.

Hotch said your name softly. "You're scaring me," He whispered. "Please."

You rested your head against the cool, tiled wall behind you. "I'm off my birth control. And it's affecting me."

"Oh," Hotch replied, and you could have counted the ways the tension visibly melted off him. Most importantly, he wasn't holding onto his gun for dear life. "I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me-"

Your gaze flicked up to meet his, and he immediately stopped talking.

"It's affecting me because I had to break things off with this guy that I've been seeing, and I should be sad, but the only thing I can think about is you." Your sentence started off strong, and waned until you could barely whisper the last word.

"It's nothing to do with you, you're not leading me on," You said quietly, trying to reassure him. "I never used to think about you, but now... The way you look, the way your suits fit, the way you smell-"

Your voice gave way to an almost-silent moan and you tipped your head back, closing your eyes. Sure enough, underneath the smell of bleach and paper towels, there was his scent. Certain, confident, bold, clean, distinctive.

"I'm sorry," You whispered, your eyes still closed. "I know it's unprofessional, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

You blinked your eyes open, and Hotch was a shade of red you'd never seen before.

"I promise, it's just pheromones or something, it's just while my hormones are regulating and then I'll be back to normal," You said quickly.

"I'm not sure," He started. "...how to address this."

You found yourself wishing that the ground would open up and swallow you.

"Do you need to fly back to Washington? I could wear a different cologne, or..."

He was more flustered than you'd ever seen him.

You shook your head. "If it would make you more comfortable, I can take sick leave until I'm over it," You sighed. "I wish it could have been anyone else. If it was Derek, or my barista, or anyone..."

A flicker of something resembling offence slipped across his face, but it was gone just as soon as it appeared.

"I'm going to say something," He said lowly. "And if you say no, we can pretend I never said anything, right?"

You nodded, and watched as he chewed his bottom lip. "Right."

"Would it help to get it out of your system?"

Your breath caught in your throat. It was the only thing you'd been able to think about for days, and here he was, offering it to you on a silver platter, no questions asked.

"Hotch," You breathed, staring at his lips. "God, yes."

"Okay." He nodded. "How do we do this?"

Without even thinking about it, you were walking over to him, and once again, his back was pressed to the bathroom door. He was taller than you, but his breaths were short, his chest heaving, and he was watching you, no idea what your next move would be.

You cupped his jaw and immediately, your brain knew it was wrong. This was Hotch, the person who signed off on everything you did at work. He was your boss, and his skin was warm in your palm. There was the slightest sensation of stubble against your skin. Your whole body felt hazy and warm, like you were swimming in a lava lamp.

You leaned into him, and he leaned into you. Inch by inch, you neared each other until your lips were touching from sheer proximity, rather than pressure. His breath smelled like the black coffee he'd been drinking, and his shirt was soft beneath your fingertips. He rubbed your nose against yours, nuzzling into you.

Then his mouth was on yours, and his thin lips parted easily. All of this tension, all of this agony, and he was kissing you like a whore the second you asked for it. His tongue traced the tip of yours experimentally, then slipped underneath your tongue, testing how easily you'd let him take control. You gasped for breath, inhaling deeply through your nose and curling your tongue against his. He smiled into the kiss and traced the shape of your tensed tongue, then leaned back slightly. You followed him, not wanting the moment to end. He ran his tongue over your lower lip as he slipped away, nipping your lip as he went. You moaned and pressed your lips against his, so hard that you felt like they might bruise.

His hands dropped to your hips, squeezing you tenderly. He manipulated your hips so you were at a slight angle, and he pressed his erection against your body, dragging himself back and forth. He gasped quietly and dropped his head back against the door, finally breaking the kiss.

"Where the hell did you learn to kiss like that?"

"You really think you're the first person I've fucked in a bathroom?" He breathed against your ear.

Your eyes were wide when you looked up at him, and he cupped your cheek, bringing an edge of affection to the whole affair. He held your gaze for a while, and you couldn't read his expression, but you had a strong sense he was trying to tell you something.

With his other hand, he guided your hand towards his cock. "Is this what you've been thinking about?"

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Derek called your name. "You alright?"

You dropped your hand back to your side, taking a step back.

"I'm fine," You called through the door. "Could you bring my go bag and make sure nobody else comes down this corridor?"

"You got it," He replied, and you heard his footsteps receding.

Hotch cleared his throat. Suddenly, you couldn't look him in the eye, so you turned away, washing your hands.

"It's probably for the best," You said quietly. "We can forget about this, right? Like you said?"

You knew you were lying as the words passed your lips. If anything, the beast inside you was snarling in its cage, clawing at the inside of your stomach, more desperate than ever. You'd had a taste, and now you had the hunger.

"Right," Hotch replied quietly.

Turning around to drop the used paper towel in the bin, you saw that he was staring at the floor. In slow motion, his gaze tracked up your body towards your face.

"Fuck it," You breathed, closing the gap between you and kissing him, both of your hands pressed to his cheeks.

His hand came to the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the tender skin there. He murmured your name.

He turned away from the kiss. "You should wait for your hormones to settle. You're not thinking straight."

"It can mean nothing," You said, trying not to let your voice drop into a desperate whine.

Hotch let go of you completely, his hand resting on the door handle.

"It won't mean nothing to me," He breathed, and left before the words had time to sink in.

________

You know that something's really wrong because the team doesn't even tease you about the fact that you and Hotch were in a bathroom together. The car ride to the hotel was completely silent. Hotch was driving one car, and you'd been obvious about making sure you were in the other one.

JJ walked into the bathroom while you were brushing your teeth. Her face was apologetic as she handed you your phone.

"It's him," She said quietly.

You spat out the toothpaste and rinsed it down the drain.

"Am I going to lose my job?" You whispered.

She shook her head.

Taking the phone from her hand, you read the text quickly.

I'm sorry for questioning your judgment.

It's fine, You quickly typed back, hitting send. You were right.

For the second time that day, you watched the three dots bob on your screen, except this time you found yourself actually caring what would eventually pop out of them.

I could have done it if you meant less to me. That kiss was...

Heat rushed to your face, and you locked your phone, slamming it face down onto the bathroom counter.

JJ looked alarmed. "What? Please tell me you're not getting fired."

You shook your head. "Can we talk about it, actually?"

She nodded quickly, and you grabbed your phone, walking over to your bed. You crossed your legs and she sat on her bed, facing you.

She smiled at you encouragingly, but her expression was laced with worry.

"I stopped my birth control because it was starting to have some really bad side effects," You began. "And I'd heard that sometimes your mood changes, your taste in people changes..."

She nodded again.

"And," You breathed deeply. "For some reason, I'm like, super attracted to Hotch now. And it's making it really difficult to concentrate. He asked me about it, so I told him."

"Oh my-" JJ stopped herself. "That was brave."

You shook your head. "That's not it. At that point we were arguing in the bathroom, so there was nobody else around, and... We kissed. And it was... crazy."

JJ shook her head with surprise. "What? You and Hotch?"

You nodded.

"So what did he text you?"

You passed her your phone, and she read the last few messages. "Oh, wow. What does he mean about your judgment?"

"We were going to do more, and then he said that we shouldn't, because my hormones are all over the place, which is true."

"You should reply," She said. "He's probably panicking. It's way out of his comfort zone to be so open."

"I have no idea what to say," You sighed.

"Well, don't you want to... you know?"

Despite everything, you laughed. "Yeah, I mean. I still find him attractive. And he's a nice guy, and god... today..." You fanned your face.

"So what's stopping you?" JJ smiled genuinely.

"He said something."

She frowned.

"Promise this will stay between us?" You said.

"For sure."

"I said that it didn't have to mean anything, and he said that it wouldn't mean nothing to him."

"Oh, wow," JJ said again. "So he likes you?"

You buried your face in your hands. "I don't know. And now I feel like an asshole because it's like... It's like I have this power over him, and now that my hormones have changed, he has a chance. Do you know what I mean? It's like in high school, when the popular girl all of a sudden changes her mind about the nice guy, and it's like, no, you don't deserve him, this whole time he's been pining over you and you never even noticed," You rambled.

"Well," She said slowly. "I'm a big believer in following your heart. And if your heart is saying that the kiss really was something, then... I think it does mean something, even if you don't want it to."

You flopped back onto the bed. "You're right."

JJ moved to sit beside you on your bed.

You picked up your phone, pulling up your messages with Hotch.

I need you. You typed. My body isn't letting me lie to myself anymore. I need you, Aaron. And I need you tonight. I don't mean that I need your body. I mean that I need you in a way that I find fucking terrifying

You showed the draft message to JJ. "It's coming on a little strong, but?"

JJ nodded. "If it's true, then it's perfect. He's been hurt before. He needs the truth. And honestly," She stroked your forehead. "I think he needs you too."

You were silent.

"I think that's why the team has been so careful around you both today. Maybe you never noticed, but it feels like everyone except you and Hotch saw this coming. And all at once, it happened and then immediately unhappened."

"Really?" You hadn't realized you'd been holding your breath.

She nodded. "It's like your perfect person has been there all along, and neither of you noticed."

You pressed send.

If you're mocking me, I want your two weeks notice on my desk by Monday. If you're serious, we should talk, He replied.

Your phone vibrated again.

You know where my room is.

_____

Your fingertips traced the skin of his back gently. The room was dark, curtains closed, lights off, except the light in the bathroom, which provided just enough light that you could make out Aaron's silhouette.

"Did you finish?" He murmured, nuzzling into your chest.

"Three times," You laughed. "You're an excellent lay."

He chuckled quietly, the sound muffled into your skin.

"We didn't get to talking," He said.

"How long have you...?"

He swallowed. "A while."

One of his thick fingers traced the shape of your left nipple. You reacted without meaning to, arching your back into his touch and sighing happily.

He watched your reaction, and the spark of arousal caught fire when you realized what he was doing. He was studying your body, the way it reacted to him. He was memorizing what made you tick.

"Today," You started quietly. "You reached for your gun when I came towards you. Were you really scared of me?"

He shook his head. "It was just muscle memory. I think you could hurt me if you wanted to, but I knew you wouldn't."

"I've never felt anything like that before. Needing something, someone, like that. I can't even describe it," You said, rambling into the dark quietness of the room.

"Trust me, I know the feeling," He breathed, taking your nipple into his mouth.

"Aaron," You moaned. "We should get some sleep."

"We should," He replied, sighing and rolling onto his back. You took advantage of his new position to rest your head on his shoulder, draping your arm over his stomach.

"I think this was meant to happen," You whispered, afraid that saying it out loud might shatter this fragile thing that was starting to form. "I know it's going to be complicated, but I feel like I was made for you."

He wrapped his arm around you. "You're perfect. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

You thumbed his chin. "Don't try and be the hero. I like you, Aaron. I want you to be lucky to have me." You smiled, leaning in for a short kiss. "If you want me, I'm right here."

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Oh honey, you already have me."

A happy sigh left your chest, and before long, you were asleep, feeling safe and comfortable for the first time in... forever.

A thousand different thoughts were running through Hotch's head. It only took one look at your body curled against his own for those doubts to cease.

"We'll work it out," He whispered. "I was made to love you."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner/reader #hotch x reader #hotch smut #hotch fluff #hotch one shot #my writing #fanfic #criminal minds #bau!reader #hotch

[erikatsu]

MARY ON A CROSS ⋆.ೃ࿔* ═ IL DOTTORE

PAIRING .•°•▹ DOTTORE X FEM!READER

SUMMARY .•°•▹ you could hardly ever get dottore to take some time away from his studies without a little convincing.

WARNINGS .•°•▹ p.orn w plot. dottore lore spoilers. reader is ill. oral (reader!receiving). biting (dottore). fingering (reader!receiving). unprotected sex. pet names (pet, little one). light cervix fucking. slight dacryphilia. dumbification. multiple/stacked orgasms. creampie.

TAGS .•°•▹ @dottores @dxlucs @mxnjiros @myalbedo @suyacho @alucrds @niicevibe

“why don't you come to bed?” your tired voice broke through the silence. you walked up behind him, pausing as you let out a small yawn. you weren't entirely surprised to find him here in the middle of the night. he could go days without sleeping, and there were some nights you had to drag him away from his work to make him take better care of himself. 

you wrapped your arms over his shoulders, resting your cheek on top of his head as you caught a glimpse of all the papers spread out before him. this was driving him mad, it had been for quite some time now. 

“i can't figure out what i'm missing,” he absentmindedly leaned back into your touch. “nothing about this disease makes sense.”

he could go on about all the stem cell research results, and blood samples, and how even though most medicine can be made from the sickness itself, no preventative drug he tried to create worked. but he knew you wouldn't understand a lick of what he said. which was fine. he didn't need you to be as adverse in academics and biology as him, he just needed you to have a fighting chance. 

you sighed, slowly bringing your hand up and gently combing your fingers through his hair, “you can figure it out tomorrow, zandik. let your mind rest for a while.”

“no,” he leaned forward, pulling away from you. this was always the same argument, but this time was… different. somehow, he could tell you were frowning, feeling a little hurt by his actions. “at least, not yet. i just… need some more time.”

you took a step back, about to grumble out a response and head back to your room when he turned around in his chair. he reached out, wrapping his hand around your wrist and pulling you onto his lap. 

dottore knew you just wanted some of his attention, and he knew he got easily lost in his own projects. how could he not when your life was on the line? sure, current medication was enough to keep your illness controlled, but you were still easily fatigued and had little to no feeling in certain places. not only was that a hindrance to your job within the fatui, he hated seeing you when the illness was at its worst. he hated it because he felt utterly useless. he had so much research and time dedicated to finding a potential cure, yet he had nothing to show for it. and because of that, he found it hard to be around you. like he wasn't worthy of it until he succeeded. 

you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder as he turned back to his desk. you were comfortable with this, just being close to him after feeling like he hadn't been around for ages. he wasn’t one for physical affection, except for these rare occasions when he knew you weren't feeling good or when you felt lonely, and that was if the two of you were completely alone. which, you understood. 

his whole life he had been looked at as different, odd. he didn't liked to be touched all the time, he liked his personal space. he was very detail oriented and articulate. he noticed immediately when something had changed. he liked things that didn't make sense, especially once he was able to understand them. he'd been run from his own home for taking an interest in things that didn't belong to this world. even after being accepted into the akademiya, he was still looked down on despite his potential and capabilities. after a series if tragic and bad accidents, he was wrongfully accused of murdering the only person who could tolerate him. 

you never once judged him for who he was or his past. you saw the man underneath the mask and he never once scared you. you didn't make him feel like he was some sort of freak of nature or outcast. you made him feel human when no one else had. because he wasn't a monster– he never had been– but he had done terrible things and he walked the edge so gracefully. if he ever lost you, he'd surely topple over. 

it amazed him to know that you could easily curl up in his lap and fall asleep even though you knew he had blood on his hands. he wasn't sure how you felt safe lying beside him after knowing everything he's done, and if he was being entirely honest it's what drew him to you. your lack of fear and your not necessarily forgiving nature, but your “if it didn't affect you then who were you to judge” mindset. 

it's not like you were completely innocent either. you'd done bad things too, it was part of your job. although, you'd never gone as far as he had. he'd been branded a mad man, a monster. and yeah, maybe he was mad and had no regard for human life but yours, but you never tried to change him. you didn't have to agree with the atrocities he's committed, and the fact that you hadn't left him yet told him you were a little off your rocker as well. he enjoyed that, sometimes a little too much. 

maybe that's what made him feel so euphoric around you. you were someone who could swallow insane ideas and spit ones out that were even more wild. like the time you tried to catch and tame a wild rishboland tiger after he simply mused about if it would hard be to do so when you two had once observed them for your own entertainment. 

“still stuck?” your sleepy voice broke him from his thoughts, you breath warm against his skin. 

he thought you'd fallen asleep, but you were wide awake and just sitting in silence. he glanced down at you, an amused chuckle leaving him, “shouldn't you be asleep, brat?”

“don't want to,” you murmured, even though your eyes were closed and you sounded exhausted. “wanna spend time with you.”

“you're such a pest,” he grumbled, knowing that any argument about how sleeping was important would be thrown back in his face. the last thing he wanted was to hear you gloat and get your way. he'd never hear the end of it.

you huffed in annoyance as he leaned forward, going back to scribbling down notes. you shifted, trying to get somewhat comfortable again before biting back a yawn, not wanting him to see through your previous little white lie. you were tired, you had been all day, but you could always catch up on sleep tomorrow. 

dottore paused, your movements distracting him. you settled back into the crook of his neck, your eyes slowly closing once again. he felt his skin get hot as all he could bring his attention back to was the way your breath hit his neck. for a brief moment he tried to pass it off as the humidity of the forest creeping in, but he knew he was only fooling himself. especially once you realized why he was no longer writing down notes.

he could feel your playful smirk, and it suddenly dawned on him that you were only in one of his button up shirts. whether it was intentional or on purpose, you'd officially succeed in drawing his mind away from work. you let out a small giggle, pressing your lips to his skin. 

he inhaled sharply before leaning back, dropping his pen and roughly grabbing your chin. you were still smug as he made you look at him, and he scoffed, “you're such a little minx.”

before you could respond, he pulled you in for a searing kiss. you moved your mouth against his, almost sighing in relief at the feeling. you had missed this, him. you knew he was dedicated to his studies and that he would do anything for you, but you'd rather enjoy the time you had with him. and even though he would never admit it, he missed you too. he wasn't one for pointless words and confessions. he let his actions speak for him. it was obvious in the way he savored how you tasted.

he slowly slipped his hand up your shirt– his shirt– and cupped your breast before gently toying with your nipple. you whined against his lips, eliciting a light smile from him in response. he always loved how you responded to him. just the smallest of touches could have you squirming, and he relished in all the little noises you'd make. 

he couldn't get enough of you, deepening the kiss and letting the hand on your chin fall to grip your hip with force. you let out a gasp, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. his hand on your waist glided over your skin, stopping to rub at your clit over the fabric of your underwear. 

you moaned, your body tingling everywhere he was touching you. your head spun as he teased you, making you feel intoxicated even though you hadn't had a drop of liquor. you barely even noticed when he moved to stand, hoisting you up with him. you instinctively wrapped your legs around his torso, refusing to break away from him as he carried you out of the lab and to his office. 

dottore laid you down on the couch, pulling away from you. he trailed kisses down your jaw, to your neck, briefly pausing to suck and graze his teeth over your skin. he worked the buttons on the oversized shirt you were wearing, causing you to shiver once he let the fabric fall away from your torso. he made his way down your body, nibbling and biting along the way. your breaths were sharp, airy as he gripped the band of your underwear with his teeth and slowly pulled them down your legs. 

“naughty,” he clicked his tongue, pushing your thighs apart and settling himself in between them. he dipped his head down, running his tongue along your folds before glancing back up at you. “soaked already.”

you whined as he rolled his tongue over your clit, suctioning his mouth around it. your thighs pressed against his ears, the glass of his earring cold against your warm skin. you closed your eyes, focusing on the tingling that ran up your legs and spread throughout your body. you raked your hand through his hair, curling locks around ur fingers as you tried to push him further into you.

he brought his hand up, giving no warning as he slipped a finger into your dripping cunt, a cry falling off your lips at the sudden sensation. your legs shook, back arching as the nerves built up to the sweet release. he could tell by the grip you had on him that you were close. he pushed another finger into you, using a driving force to push you closer to the edge. 

his teeth grazed your sensitive bud, a low groan escaping you while you panted. your eyes rolled back as he curled his fingers, dragging them in and out with a wicked pace that had whimpers falling out of your mouth as you finally clenched around him. he flicked his tongue, and you came with a cry of his name. he rode you out, only slowing once the volume of the cute noise you were making died down.  

you quivered as he pulled away and licked your juices off his lips. he sat up, staring down at you as he undid the buttons on his own clothes. you felt your face getting warm under his gaze, even though he'd seen you like this plenty of times before. when he was like this, gentle and not as rigid or rough, he still managed to make you feel shy and small. moments like these were rare. for someone who didn't have any regard for his actions, he was putting so much thought into this. 

the way he slid out of his clothes and pushed your legs apart again with such care almost made you shiver. your heart raced once he grabbed the back of your thigh, pushing it back as he grinded his hard cock against your slick lips. he leaned forward, catching you by the mouth as he slowly sank into you. you moaned, eyelids falling shut as he stretched you out. he rolled his hips, working his way deeper with each thrust.

dottore broke the kiss as he bottomed out, wanting to hear the noise you made at full volume. a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, “yeah? that feel good? you don't have to hold back those pretty noises you're making, pet.”

you let out a whimper as he teasingly dragged his cock against your tight walls, slow and agonizing. he pressed a kiss to your collarbone, lightly nibbling at your skin. 

“c'mon,” he mumbled, his breath hot. “i can't give you what you want if you don't tell me what it is.”

“please,” you whined, your arms wrapping around his bare shoulders as you arched your back. 

you opened your mouth to tell him what you wanted, but he didn't give you enough time to answer. he sunk his teeth into you, a sharp yelp leaving your mouth as the sudden pain. he let go with a laugh, “please, what?”

“faster,” you choked out, eyes slightly glazed over with tears from his teasing and the bite he gave you. “please. i– can’t take it.”

his chest vibrated against yours as he chuckled, still gently rocking his hips, “you can take it, little one. you're doing so well.”

you mewled under him, as he rutted as deep as he could, as hard as he could without hurting you too much. but, you didn't feel any pain, and if there was it was lost in pleasure. your fingers twisted in his hair, gasping out each time he bullied his cock against your cervix. his long, deep strokes were making your head spin, and the teeth marks he began to liter your body with had you tightly clenching around him. 

dottore grunted, closing his eyes as he focused on how you sucked him in. you were so tight, squeezing him like you never had before, and you were throbbing as you got closer to the edge. he kept his pace, his cock gliding with ease. you rolled your hips, your legs wrapping around his as you tried to push him in further. 

“wanna cum,” you told him breathlessly. “zandik, please. please let me cum.”

he groaned upon hearing his name fall off your lips. it was something only you knew, and even though he loved when you called out either of his names, his real name was what he preferred to hear from you. he changed his rhythm, picking up some speed but only pulling his hips back briefly before driving right into that sweet spot. the friction making your orgasm build quickly while he raggedly breathed in your ear, “cum for me, little one.”

you tugged at his hair, legs shaking as you once again felt the euphoric high rushing through your body. your walls clamped down around his cock, a cry leaving your lungs as he continued driving you through your daze. 

he didn't stop even as your body relaxed and you were panting, out of breath. he pushed himself up, staring down at you as his hips began to roll with fervor. you whimpered, still feeling as if your nerves were on end, your body tingling while he used you to chase his own high. your eyes once again welled with tears from being worked this much.

“s’too much. s’too much,” your voice cracked, a stray tear rolling down your cheek. he leaned forward, using his tongue to wipe it away.

“you can do it, pet,” he assured you, grabbing your cheeks with one hand, giving you a quick, yet sloppy kiss. “you gonna cry some more pretty tears for me, too?”

you swallowed thickly, your mind clouding as you felt that pressure building up again. he started losing his rhythm, hips forcefully digging into yours each time he bottomed out inside you. more tears rolled down your cheeks as you came so hard it almost hurt. your shoulder jerked, your hold on him slipping, only briefly. you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. your mind going blank, eyes rolling back as he said words that you couldn't quite make out.

dottore cursed, your pussy tightening around him throwing him into a frenzy. he let his head drop to your shoulder, resting his forehead against your skin as he groaned, spilling hot cum inside you. he rocked into you, riding out his orgasm until you couldn't get anything else out of him. 

he caught his breath after he stopped, burying himself inside you. he brushed your hair away from your face, smirking at the sight of you. your gaze was half-lidded, your heart beating wildly against your chest. you were dizzy, unable to think clearly. you blinked slowly, looking up at him in a fog. 

he slowly pulled out, causing you to cringe. he hovered over you, running his thumb over your cheek, “you ready for bed now, brat?

you nodded your head slowly, “only if you are too.”

he shook his head, “we’ll see. let's get you cleaned up before we do anything else.”

#dottore x reader #dottore smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #dottore x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you

[yanderes-galore]

Fandom: JJBA

Character: Jotaro Kujo

Pairing: romantic

Type: alphabet

Honestly part 3 Jotaro being yandere over crusader darling is making me go crazy🗣️ darling could be related/a close friend of polnareff, avdol, or kakyoin to up the stakes of jotaro lol

And darling's gender is up to you I'm fine with whatever :D

- 🥝 anon

I usually do a general take for Alphabets so I hope you enjoy :D Rusty with writing Jotaro, feedback is appreciated! Not fully proofread, may have mistakes.

Yandere Alphabet - Jotaro Kujo

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Using stand for affection, Stalking, Possessive/Protective behavior, Violence, Blood, Manipulation, Jealousy, Death, Murder briefly mentioned, Threats, Controlling behavior, Kidnapping, Isolation, Restraints mention, Forced relationship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Jotaro isn't a character that expresses emotions very well. He's mostly stoic and even seems disinterested all the time. However, he isn't disinterested towards you in the slightest.

He's quiet around you but tries not to make it seem like he hates you. He mostly shows he cares through curt praises or maybe something physical like a pat on the back. Although, you no doubt feel ghostly touches of affection due to Star Platinum being capable of showing Jotaro's hidden emotions.

He's slow to do anything intense, but Jotaro could probably be one of the most intense yanderes. He may start subtle or hard to read... but as his obsession grows he tries to be more affectionate. He struggles with it at times though.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

I imagine if someone drove him to snap, he doesn't mind using Star Platinum to take them out... or maybe his own hands if it's personal. Jotaro has no mercy for enemy Stand Users targeting you. When it's rivals... that's more complicated.

He'd have trouble harming the other Crusaders because they're close to you. In that case he may rely on threats or just dragging you off.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Jotaro may seem like a cruel yandere, in fact that's an interesting way to go about it in some plots, but in reality he'd most likely be very caring. He has trouble expressing emotions... not like he doesn't have them. (I've been guilty of this in the past)

He wouldn't mock you, in fact if it ever came to kidnapping he would make sure he takes care of you. He hates others around you at times... but he never really likes to hurt you. If he's taken you in like this, he's going to make sure you're cared for.

Even if he's the only one you can see now.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Yes, but he tries not to do it often. He respects you, even if he locks you away.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Jotaro doesn't seem like a very vulnerable yandere. He's mostly stoic but does show some anxiety or bursts of emotions when things catch him off guard. So most of the time, you can't read him. Other times... suddenly he has you in a tight hug, catching you off guard.

He makes no noise during said sudden affection... but by his grip you can tell he's conveying some sort of emotion towards you (Anxiety, Stress, Adoration, Etc.)

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Irritated and impatient. He shows some annoyance towards you if you did fight him. He'll say his usual "Yare Yare Daze" before scolding you and holding you off. He won't hurt you... just tire you out.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No and he hates it.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Seeing him snap. When Jotaro snaps a lot can happen. He may get violent with the person who set him off (not you). By the end of their altercation his hands are covered in red stains.

Afterwards he picks you up, either by himself or his Stand, and carried you off. He doesn't care if you struggle or not. He can't deal with you being so close to others anymore...

Which leads to you being locked away.

Honestly, he doesn't think about it now... but as an adult he probably thinks of marriage (Part 4). Maybe even a kid (Part 6). Part 3 Jotaro mostly just thinks of dating you after Dio is defeated.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Yes and Jotaro could really go either way. He may lash out and threaten the person who caused the issue. Maybe even use Star Platinum if they really did something wrong (Showing physical affection while Jotaro is around is an example).

Other times he may try to hide how much he truly feels about it. Although said emotions end up being vented by Star Platinum, said Stand never taking his eyes off of you. Star Platinum may even show affection towards you while Jotaro tries to distract himself.

Protective, Clingy, Observing, Manipulative/Controlling, Possessive, Subtle, Hard to read, Caring, Loyal.

Jotaro's yandere type is like a dormant volcano it seems. He seems harmless towards you... but who knows what might set him off.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Going based off what you gave me, you're a fellow Stand User and Crusader. That's how you meet Jotaro. At first Jotaro seems disinterested in you. But you couldn't be further from the truth.

As you proceed through your quest to take down Dio, Jotaro grows interested in you. You could be a friend of one of the others... or even a sibling of one of them. Jotaro doesn't really care about that... he just cares about watching you.

He'd stalk you by using Star Platinum and would appear extremely protective of you. Jotaro is skilled in fighting and can be volatile in fights. Especially if it's to protect you.

By the end of this trip... safe to say Jotaro isn't planning to leave your side or lose you to anyone.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not really, no.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Jotaro doesn't like the idea but he may try restraints or isolation to make you rely on him. He seems like he'd be physical about it, but he isn't really. He does scold you... but at the same time he doesn't like blaming you for the mistakes of others.

He doesn't want to take a lot, but if he feels you've wronged him then he will take most of your freedoms.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He can be patient. He has limits, but he is surprisingly very patient.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

The effect it has on him may not show, but it does affect him. He gets snappy with others and much more moody. But over time it becomes a dull ache within him that he never forgets.

If someone took you from him... he may just kill them....

Sometimes and maybe (most likely no).

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Childhood and trauma.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Jotaro usually just gives you your space. He keeps his distance until you calm down. Occasionally he may use Star Platinum to check on you before approaching to hold you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

SKIPPED

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Not many I can think of except trying not to make him snap.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He tries not to, he hates the idea... but it may just happen.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Not a worship yandere but would sacrifice everything to see you alive, happy, and safe.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

I imagine he can pine awhile. He probably won't snap until after Part 3 (hopefully)... meaning any abduction might be a Part 4 era Jotaro thing.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Not intentionally.

#yandere jojo #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jjba #yandere stardust crusaders #yandere jotaro #yandere jotaro kujo

[stellar-constellations]

Uppermoon trio + Muzan x female reader watching a horror movie headcanons? ;)

Muzan + Upper Moon Trio (separately) x Fem! Reader Watching Horror Movies

Modern AU (they're still demons and reader is a female human!)

Muzan: 

It's hard finding a movie for Muzan to genuinely watch. He's so nitpicky about them. What's the point of watching fake gore if he can just go outside, kill someone, and create his own horror movie?

Muzan glares at the screen if the gore is inaccurate or there's too much blood (or too little). Why lie? Where's the real stuff? 

Muzan probably likes torture gore movies but still wants plot. 

Muzan likes Silent Hill (2006), the Saw series, Silence of the lambs (1991), Truth or Dare (2018). He likes all the gore and the plot makes up for the inaccuracy of the gore (he likes Truth or Dare simply because the idea of controlling human's minds and bodies are amusing to him)

It's hard to make Muzan sit down and watch a movie with you since he'd rather do other things instead such as work, but once in a blue moon you can convince him. 

Muzan rarely ever cuddles you when watching movies, but if he notices you're scared, he'd pull you close by your waist so you're hugging his side. He acts like it isn't a big deal, but it obviously is considering Muzan's dislike for humans and their weakness. He doesn't bother trying to tease you about your fear, you're already scared and you both know this, and scary movies are supposed to ignite that sort of fear (he also might be engrossed in the movie you put on, but he'll never let you know that satisfaction). 

Douma: 

Douma loves gory movies. 

Douma talks to the TV like it can hear him. Will tell the characters to calmly run, makes remarks about them being too slow or how the killer is catching up (he might be fantasizing about being the one chasing them). 

Douma laughs at every joke in the script like it's the funniest joke he's ever heard. He even laughs when background characters laugh (that's how you know he's a fake one). 

Douma likes obscure movies such as the Circle (2015), Last Shift (2014), the Final Destinations, and Wolf Creek (2005). Probably likes Human Centipede (2009) and laughs at the grossest scenes.

Douma forces you to keep your eyes open, like physically holds them open.

Douma laughs at your fear, he finds amusement in it. It's real genuine fear compared to the fake acting on TV. 

Douma will only comfort you if you cry or if you walk out on the movie to get away from him. He'll apologize profusely (mainly because he doesn't want to sleep alone on the couch). 

Kokushibo: 

Kokushibo doesn't care much for them. He prefers thrillers or mysteries instead.

Kokukshibo is genuinely a little bit freaked out of Scream (1996) because of the guessing who is the killer element, along with the technology of phones (he's traditional, refuses to use anything except letters or email). It was a fight to get him to use router phones. 

Kokushibo likes storytelling movies, or movies with multiple protagonists, or movies where you guess the killer.

Kokushibo likes movies such as Trick ‘R Treat (2007), the Tales from the Crypt series (1989), Stephen King's 1922 (from 2017), Psycho (1960). Nothing too graphic. Gore does not equal horror in his book. He watched M3gan (2022) and was uncomfortable of the advanced technology. 

Kokushibo will reassure you if you're scared. He'll tell you that the movie is fake and will turn the movie off if that's what you want, he'd rather read or do something else instead. If you want to continue watching the movie, he'll give you a blanket so you can hide your face when you get scared, or hide it in his chest, he doesn't mind that either. He finds it comforting that you turn to him when you're scared.

Akaza: 

Akaza is someone who yells at the TV. He'll be one to yell "Run lady run!" whenever the victim trips. Akaza understands final girls cannot punch a hole through their stomaches like how he can, so he just screams at them.

Akaza loves watching movies involving final girls such as the classic 80's and 90's movies with the most final girls. He likes seeing the women kick evil men's asses because the killer had the audacity to prey on someone they believed were weak. 

Akaza likes the first Halloween (1978). He walks you home so you don't get stalked like Laurie Strode did. He also likes the Nightmare on Elm Street series (and watches you when you sleep to make sure Freddy Krueger isn't getting you). He likes Joy Ride 1 (2001) and Joy Ride 2 (2008) [though, he likes the second one way better], and Unfriended: Dark Web (2017). Unfriended made him genuinely uncomfortable because of the invisible paranormal force killing the victims off. How can you fight if you can't see it?

Akaza notices the second you show discomfort or fear, he asks if you want to have the movie turned off. If you don't, he'll put his arm around your shoulder and pull you close to him. He likes when you hide your face in his shoulder or chest, he likes that you turn to him to protect you (because he obviously will). 

        I apologize sincerely for the huge delay! I had little time to write due to work so the only time I had to write was when I was supposed to be sleeping or relaxing, but I finally got this done! Better late than never!

         Want more Muzan content? Check out the Muzan masterlist!

        Want more Kokushibo content? Check out the Kokushibo masterlist!

        Want more Douma content? Check out the Douma

masterlist!

        Want more Akaza content? Check out the Akaza masterlist!

        At the moment my requests are temporarily closed, I'm working on other requests (that are months old...), but once I finally clear those up, I'll be accepting more requests!

#stellar constellations #x female reader #x reader #x you #x y/n #x yn #kny muzan #muzan x reader #demon slayer muzan #muzan kny #muzan kibutsuji #kokushibo x reader #kokushibo demon slayer #kny kokushibo #demon slayer kokushibo #kokushibo #kokushibo x y/n #kokushibo x you #muzan x you #muzan x y/n #douma x reader #douma kimetsu no yaiba #kny douma #demon slayer douma #douma x y/n #douma x you #akaza demon slayer #kny akaza #akaza kimetsu no yaiba #akaza kny

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: smut with a sprinkle of angst for flavor, plot only if you squint, implications of mating cycles

Final Word Count: 2k

The night was cool against the heat of Keigo's flesh. As he glided purposefully over the city, the lights of alabaster skyscrapers twinkled in and out, creating the illusion that he was soaring through a sky of closer stars. If he could, he would snatch the lights and keep them in his pocket to give to his mate, his lover— but in the absence of that, the ruby necklace he'd picked up on the way would have to do. 

You loved rubies, he knew. Garnets were your very favorite, but rubies were a close second. The precious stones reminded you of his wings, you always said.

… not that you would necessarily appreciate the reminder, now that things were less good between the two of you. 

Keigo put the thought out of his mind. Birds of his kind, he knew, thought nothing of the distance between mates. He didn't have to share a nest  or even a city with you to love you, care for you, protect you— and his body was talking to him, calling out with the desperate cry of springtime. It was time for him to be near you again. 

A thick, heavy droplet of blood dropped onto one of his lashes. Nonplussed, Keigo blinked it away. Unsurprisingly, his forehead still burned from the scrape it had taken; a villain he was fighting had violently slammed his head against the concrete curb, leaving road rash and a splitting headache in his wake. Soon, though, that would no longer matter. 

Soon, he would be with you. 

It was a quiet flight to your penthouse apartment— well, technically his penthouse apartment that he paid for with ridiculous amounts of money from his overtime hours. Or, he used to pay for it until he bought the building just to gift it to you last year when he had to make the move from your city to his next assignment. He hadn't wanted you to worry about a nest. You should always have one, a place to call home, and this way you could have one that you liked, one that was familiar to you. Keigo hadn't understood why you were so reluctant to accept the gift. He hadn't bought it for himself. He'd bought it for you. 

It's too much, Keigo, you'd told him, worry in your eyes. It's— it's just too much.

At first, it felt like you had rejected him instead of the building— like you had looked at him and found him to be too much. The rejection had hurt like a gaping wound until he realized what you meant. You'd thought he was trying to establish some kind of control over you, creating some false sense of obligation. Keigo had never wanted that. He had only ever wanted you. 

Your apartment was dark as he entered it, replacing your spare key beneath your doormat. He'd tried to tell you to move it— really, it was for your own safety, anyone could find it there— but you stood firm on your stance that if someone wanted into your home badly enough, they'd find a way in with or without a key, and Keigo found himself unable to argue with that logic. Although, he supposed as he passed by the pristine granite countertops of your kitchen, he shouldn't complain when it benefited him in this way. 

The carpet of your living room was soft beneath the weight of his boots. Keigo moved silently through it, stepping around the odds and ends that made their way into your floor during your busy work week. For a moment, he was tempted to snag something from the floor to keep with him— a pen, or a small hair tie—but only just managed to refrain, knowing there were more important things to be done first.

Finally, he reached your room. Your bedroom door was left open just a crack; moonlight from the hallway window fell over it, giving the white of the doorframe a luminescent glow. Slowly, quietly, Keigo pushed inside, and was greeted with the greatest reward he could fathom. 

You were sleeping peacefully, your lashes kissing your cheeks. You must have fallen asleep unintentionally— your phone was still in your hand, playing something soft and sweet. Keigo smiled. You were as beautiful now as you ever had been, and the love that lived always just beneath the surface of his skin rose to his cheeks in the form of a flush. 

Here, watching you, surrounded by your scent, Keigo was in heaven. 

Keigo didn't want to wake you. You looked tired, worn; it would be selfish to disturb your rest. Even so, the pull of your even breathing was too much for him to resist. With shaking hands and slow motions, he sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. When you did not stir, he moved closer, shifting to his hands and knees, crawling towards you, head low, heart penitent. Using his wings for balance, he moved one knee over your hips, straddling you. Shaded under the umbrage of his wings, he could barely make out your features— dissatisfied with this, he moved them, and your hair fluttered in the draft the motion made.

At last, you woke. 

In your sleep, your shirt had wrinkled and risen enough to show a sliver of skin. That sliver broadened as you stretched, unwary— but then your eyes were blinking open, and you nearly screamed when you realized you were not alone. 

"Sh," Keigo shushed, placing a gloved hand over your mouth. "It's just me, dove. Just me."

Your body relaxed with recognition, but your eyes were worried. 

"Keigo…" you tilted your head, eyeing him. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"Fine," he said, stroking the soft skin of your cheek. "Just fine."

A single crimson drop of blood rolled off of his nose, dripping onto your cheek. Immediately, he wiped it away, but it left a reddish stain, marring your flesh. 

"You're hurt."

It wasn't a question, and Keigo had no answer. He pulled at his collar, allowing cool air to reach his heated skin, and a groan escaped him unbidden. 

"Hang on." You squinted up at him, then glanced to the calendar you kept on your nightstand. "What's the date?"

Keigo barely heard you. A hunger in his belly was speaking to him, urgent, insistent. Tentatively, he rolled his hips, then groaned low in his chest at the sensation of pressing against warm, yielding flesh. He tried the motion once more, felt the relief it gave him, then decided his pants were hindering the experience. He went to unbutton them, intent on chasing the feeling he desperately needed, but a smaller hand on his own stopped him. 

"Keigo," you said, looking up at him. "It's early, but— you're— you're having your cycle, aren't you?"

Something about that phrase was deeply familiar. He knew it in his bones. Even so, his body could not catch his mind; he made no reply other than to whine, desperate to be allowed to resume his task. 

"Oh, baby." You stroked his hands with your thumbs, watching him with a mix of uncertainty and concern. "We— we really shouldn't, you know. Not when— not when things are— when you're so—"

Keigo didn't process your words so much as your tone, but he gathered your meaning anyway. Hurt, he whined once more, but kept himself still aside from the tremors that wracked his body. 

"I don't want you to be in pain, I just— if— if you want you can— I mean, maybe it's better if you go to someone else."

Those words hit Keigo like a punch to the face. You didn't seem to notice, lost in your own world as you continued to babble. 

"I mean, really, I don't mind. I don't want you to have to feel obligated to come to me for this, especially when we have all these issues—"

Desperate, incapable of handlong much more rejection, Keigo managed to respond. 

"Don't… want someone… else. Only you."

You looked up at him once more. The uncertainty in your eyes faded as your gaze softened, and you said,

"Okay. Okay. Whatever you need, then, baby. I'll give you whatever you need."

So saying, you released his hands, and with panicked elation, he nearly tore his pants in an effort to get them off. Desperate, stumbling, he pulled them all the way off, the heat that flared under his skin proving to be too much as he struggled— and then your hands were there besides his own, helping him, and suddenly his pants and shirt were both gone, leaving him only in his boxers. 

"Easy," you soothed him. "Easy Keigo." 

Your hands— soft and warm against him— nudged against his belly, raking through the fine blond hair there. Your touch was a balm; everywhere your skin pressed against his, the heat receded. Keening, he rocked his hips against you, maneuvering you onto your back. With your legs wrapped around him, almost all of you was touching almost all of him, and as he kissed you deeply, he thought he had never wanted anyone more. 

"Breathe," you reminded him between kisses, your hands tangled in the waves of his hair. "Breathe for me, baby."

Your voice was too calm, too even. Keigo needed you to be as desperate for him as he was for you. Eager, he pressed kisses to your jaw, down your throat; his hands played with your nipples through your shirt, the pads of his fingers coaxing them to hardness as he left bruising from your neck to your collarbone. 

"Don't worry about me," you told him as he moved one hand to rest on your stomach, feeling the softness of your flesh against his touch. "Find relief for yourself first."

If he'd have had the words, he'd have told you that touching you, feeling you, pulling pleasure from your body was his relief— but words escaped him as he tasted the salt of your skin, grinding his cock against you. 

"Please," he murmured against you, not quite knowing why. "Please, I need—"

Without waiting for him to finish, you responded. Your hands grabbed the hem of your sleep shirt, pulling it over your head. Your body now bare save for your panties, he kissed from your clavicle down to the soft curve of your breast. Arching into his touch, you let out a sigh, and Keigo knew that this was the beginning of what would make you cry out into the darkness of midnight. 

"Keigo." Your voice was tremulous, needy as your hands tightened in his hair. "Keigo— oh."

His wandering hands had finally found purpose between your thighs, pushing into the familiar dampness of your cotton underwear. Your scent was strongest here; if he had been less desperate, he might have moved lower, placed his nose between your folds and lost himself there. As it was, though, his body had an altogether different need, which beckoned all the louder as he pushed your panties aside, dragging the pad of a large, calloused finger through your sex. 

"Yes," you encouraged him, moving your hips to meet the strokes of his fingers. "You feel so good. I want you inside me, Keigo."

He shuddered, cock twitching as you pushed his boxers down over the curve of his ass, freeing his erection to the open air. As your hand wrapped around him, he pulled your panties down, then accidentally ripped them as he tried to wiggle them from beneath your hips. Never one to leave a job half-done, he ripped them the rest of the way, tossing them aside as you let your legs fall open for him, your sex wet and ready. 

"Nngh," Keigo grunted, burying his face in your neck as his cockhead breached your entrance. "F-fuck."

Wet heat enveloped him. In mindless ecstacy, he rutted into you, inhaling the scent at your neck; in response, you keened, back arching into him as your hands caressed his back. A few moments later, and your hands were in his feathers, stroking them with gentle fingers, and Keigo lost himself entirely to the feeling of being of one body, one soul with you. 

The bedroom filled with the sounds of coupling. The slap of his balls and the low, rumbling sound that came unbidden from deep within in his chest commingled with your sharp breaths, soft moans, and satin swears, blending and balancing into a sweet euphony that no symphony could ever capture. 

"I love you," he heard himself saying above the sound of them. "I love you."

You didn't reply. You didn't have to. The trembling of your body, the transcending of your soul into something more than yourself, more than him, more than this bedroom and more than anything was answer enough for the love in his heart. You arched against him, and with a great cry, you fell away, having reached the pinnacle of your pleasure. 

"Come in me, Keigo," you told him, voice wrecked as you stroked his wings. "I'm on the pill. I want it. Come for me."

His body, unwilling to deny you anything, jerked forward. His orgasm came sudden and swift, like a bolt of lightning striking an open field. He came and came and came, gasping and groaning, fighting for air in the aftermath of incomparable intensity. 

"That's it," you soothed him, hands twisting in his hair as he collapsed against you. "Rest, now. We can talk in the morning."

Keigo tried to fight it. There was so much that needed to be said, so much that he couldn't think to do or say— but his body made the decision for him. Like a stone through glass, he fell from consciousness, thinking of glittering rubies and the softness of your flesh, willing, wanting. 

In the morning, he knew, it would be the same as it ever had. He would love you, and you would love him. Whatever else existed was outside of that, and could wait forever if it had to. 

#hawks x reader #bnha smut #bnha imagines #hawks x yn #keigo takami x reader #mha headcanons #mha smut #hawks

[bestjeanistmonster]

In dc au i kinda gave the black arms a new ability to mind control people and add them to the hive-mind as workers bent on serving Black Doom, kind like Starro from the comics

So when they invade earth, Black doom appears offers to help Shadow take over the world and Shadow’s like ‘neat’

Sonic tags along for the ride but Black Doom assimilates him into the hive-mind with mind control stuff without Shadow knowing, Shadow was doing something else at the time (looking for that damn fourth chaos emerald) and when he meets back up with Sonic he’s acting a lil… off

At this point Shadow would’ve been rethinking him and Black Doom’s partnership, so Doom would target Sonic so he could keep an eye on Shadow more discreetly, while also being someone that Shadow is more likely to give info to rather than a doom eye, then when Shadow is pretty much definitely gonna betray Doom, Sonic tries to steal the emeralds Shadow has from him

I just have this mental image if Sonic and Shadow leaving a room, Sonic behind Shadow just intensely staring at Shadow’s quills where he put the emeralds

Sonic is keeping up conversation while reaching for it but then Shadow without turning around grabs his arm

The whole hive-mind thing is unknown to Shadow, he just thinks that Sonic just wanted to grab the emeralds for Eggman, but if that was the case he would’ve stoken them himself and he wouldn’t have waited ages either, he’s getting red flags so Shadow restrains Sonic quickly with vines and locks him in the GUN vault, not before stealing his phone

So he's running through the base while going on Sonic's phone to see if this was part of a plot or something but then he sees just how many missed calls from the Doctor there were, there were over 50, there was no way Sonic missed them

So he calls Eggy and the guy is raging, ranting about how he'd been calling Sonic all day since the hedgehog had hung up on him earlier

That’s when he realises something is very, very wrong

Throughout this arc it becomes apparent just how many people are under black doom’s control, that there’s no one who Shadow can trust, but later when there’s a confrontation about it Black Doom points out that Shadow himself had done the whole mind control thingy using his pheromones in order to have free minions

"And who are you to judge me? You too have made use of my methods, using your plant pheromones to give yourself some extra canon fodder, i do the same, coincidences are funny are they not? Besides you and i both know they are only meat at the end of the day, we are simply putting them to more constructive use."

He placed a hand on Sonic's head, "and they have the honour of being part of the hive, and they serve their purpose to benefit us, and they are happy to do so, for they are free of all the sorrow, the pain, the anner and they are no longer alone, they are at peace. A productive existence, a better existence, would you not say?"

And Shadow… he can’t say that he’s wrong or else he’s a hypocrite

Then when Doom sicks Sonic on him it’s even more disturbing for Shadow to see Sonic like this, the blue hedgehog being oddly calm and ease during the fight, with a serene smile on his face, saying stuff like: "Join us Shadow, it's so nice and welcoming, you won't ever have to feel the pain again. Lord Doom will heal you of it, like he healed me :)"

Just creepy shit like that, it’s only offset by the many breaks in the mind control as it showcases how much effort black doom has to put in to keep someone like Sonic on leash

Shadow has to put Sonic under his control and try to override Doom's control, but he doesn't have to do much to help Sonic's will fight back

Like 2 mental nudges and then it breaks

Then Sonic is hit by the quiet, the quiet of being alone in his own head

After that whole debacle, Shadow fully connects to the green and murders Black Doom, gaining a third eye in the process

#jeanist thinks #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #sonic fandom #sonic au #sonadow harlivy au #also there’s the irony that Sonic’s free will is too strong to be contained #but even as he’s freed he’s still under someone’s conttol whether he knows it or not #sth au

[matchibee]

A Web of Their Own Design (pt. 5)

the plot is thickening, I promise everything has a purpose. semi-proof read, i’m lazy but with standards.

"Hobie, I..." Words refused to string together, simple tasks burdensome, impossible. You didn’t know where your words would begin nor where they’d end, the possibility of bringing unseen experiences to the front of your mind troubling.

Hobie seemed acutely attentive, looking to you with remorse, dropping himself onto one knee, hands shoved into the pockets upon his multi-patched jacket. He look to you critically, scanning your features, not missing a single detail. Once he condemned them to memory, to past experiences — heart rate, pupil dilation, breathing habits — he only had one thing to tell you. The one thing he had to tell you to make everything feel a semblance of what it was. Even if it never would be, never could be.

"You don't need to say it, I know."

What did he know? You thought to the context, the way you must appear to the external. It would be obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes, let alone spider senses, you were going through some type of turmoil. Whether it be of your own design or from the outside was unclear, at least to the untrained eye. And then a thought seemed to plague you, encapsulating you in only blackness — a shadow — as you pondered upon what he’d said. Why he’d said it.

He knew as in he knew the situation, the network that connected the various Spiders keeping him informed? Or had Hobie been exposed to enough losses he'd become desensitized; developing a meter for grief? You know? "You do?" You were skeptical.

"It's a fucked up world — universe — multiverse that we live in, man. It ain't fair, not right that we have to live like this and simply accept it."

You replied through tears, "The canon event shit?"

"The entire thing! Why should we be expected to devote our lives, ourselves, to fighting crime? We lose our reason, loved ones; all what for what?What have they — those institutions that created us, forced us into this life — ever done for us besides condemn us, wanting us gone?”

He’d gone onto an entire tangent and you’d simply allowed him to, sitting wordlessly as he was as expressive as ever — without or without the mask — Hobie was as theatrical as they came. Even if his words were correct, even if they struck a chord.

“We’re a pawn to their game, to the people. Working with those blokes that want us dead, yeah? Damn those cops... Damn them all." Hobie slumped beside you, maintaining his distance, moral support in his own mouth fully wordless way — the only way he knew how.

You didn’t know what to say, could only discern his words from a surface level of understanding. How badly you knew he was correct, how diligently you worked to keep thoughts of grief below the surface.

"About this uh... Anomaly? When did you detect it?" You choked out your words, throat dry, lips cracked. A fish out of water. Tears so far gone your body had deprived you of the nectar of life.

"Don't trouble yourself with that," Hobie stood to his feet, back slouched, boots pattering against hardwood flooring, "I'll contact Bossman, let him know the deal. He can handle it. Big man, that one."

This was your job. Your place in the multiverse. If you weren’t there to be the Spider to your people, to those that relied on your protection; what were you?

You’d lost your sense of self, sense of reason. Everyday you seemed to stray further from yourself and closer to this persona you’d created. Were you a person with their own life? A Spider whose life revolved around others?

Besides, you didn't want Miguel to have to handle it, extending himself too far, just like you’d done these past — fuck, how long had you been a hero, again? He tended to an infinite number of multiverses, doing his best to control outbreaks as they presented themselves, the best interest of the people in mind.

He didn't want to see innocent people overrun with malice, neither did you.

Even if Hobie wouldn't admit it, he didn't want that, either.

"Grief can put itself on hold," Could it really? You'd hardly begun the grieving process when Hobie showed up rearing for a fight. The loss of a life, friendship, multiple. Anyone would be rendered bedridden for the next few weeks, months. To know that such transgressions could’ve been prevented if only they’d been there? An eternity.

Spiders didn't have that luxury, not in this life, nor the next. Even if you pushed the thoughts and responsibilities away, they'd forever persist. It was your responsibility divined by the multiverse, a vessel chosen to bare the responsibility, a web that required your attention.

You couldn't break away without running the risk of severing its fickle connections. All it took was a single moment, a stroke of bad luck, and your universe would cease to exist.

You couldn't allow such transgressions to occur. If not for yourself, for the people who would lose their lives to a premature death.

"If there's an anomaly I should be there to deliver it from evil."

"Nobility doesn't suit you, not now."

Hobie was slowly but surely breaking down your walls in an attempt to rebuild you, mold you into someone capable of living for themselves rather than the people — it was your fatal flaw, the reason you lost so much in such little time — incapable of keeping up with the personas of daily life.

Spider. Sibling. Lover. Child.

You couldn't have it all, couldn't remember special occasions, finding them pushed further into the back of your mind as crime picked up during the holidays. Presents gone unwrapped, piling up in the corner of your apartment, holiday cards unopened. They only wanted to see you, make sure their darling child was alright.

Spider. Sibling. Lover.

Love didn't work for a Spider, time too inconsistent, intimate moments disrupted by the cruel reality of crime. Scrapes and bruises impossible to hide as wandering hands traversed the most delicate parts of sensitive skin, lies only deepening the rift between love and like.

Spider. Sibling.

Eventually they grew tired of lies, tired of an identity you work diligently to hide. The person who once ate sand alongside you now spat words of malice, siding with a parent stricken with grief, fearing they might lose someone of their own fruition. Siblings are fickle, fights breaking out for the smallest of instances. Usually they're simple to remedy, an ice cream cone and a shove, but not this time.

Spider.

The only thing that remained consistent.

The reason everything was unable to coexist.

The only thing you had left.

Hobie had tracked the anomaly to central Newer York, the two of you discovering nothing out of the ordinary upon your arrival, the typical hustle and bustle of the working class's evening, returning home to adoring families, perhaps none at all.

Multiverse knows you had nothing to return to.

From damn-near thin air Hobie produced the small spider surveillance mechanism Lyla had taught you to use, the AI a whisper away in the dead of the night — a cheeky conversationalist if you entertained her, but your experience was far from first-hand.

Things change.

"Miguel wants to know if you two were successful in apprehending the anomaly." She fluttered at your shoulder, craning her to look you in the eyes — spider-eyes, but eyes nonetheless.

"Not particularly...?"

"I'll let him now."

"No!" You and Hobie were quick to shout in a succinct unison, terrifying you, a shiver running down your spine. You continued before the Spider-Punk, "I'd rather do this of our own voilition, y'know? Learn the ropes without a teacher breathing down my neck?"

"I completely understand," Your breath stilled, Hobie extending his fist, your own colliding with boney knuckles. "Unfortunately, I've already contacted him."

"Lyla!" Hobie shouted, running his palms down his mask. "Why would you do that to us, man! Way to kill the vibe!"

"Matar la vibra?"

Your backs grew rigid, Hobie swatting at you, wordlessly telling you to turn around, greet the man. You did the same, if not with more force, Miguel the one to inevitably deliver you from your silent argument.

Claws gripped where your suit pooled around your neck, raising you to the air like a cat to its infant, looking between the both of you with a scrutinous gaze. "Some maturity, children. I'm not a babysitter."

You crossed your arms over your chest, mumbling something under your breath, Miguel humming in prompt to continue.

"I'd appreciate if you'd stop calling me that."

"I'll call you whatever I want until I believe you deserve a different title, niño."

"I'm not a child."

Hobie furrowed his brows, "You speak Spanish?"

You tossed your hand back and forth, so-so, "Highschool Spanish, you can fill in the blanks."

"Teach me."

"Enough!" Miguel dropped you on your asses, your hand flying to rub at your tailbone, wincing. "Did you two spot the anomaly, or not."

“Or.”

You snickered at Hobie’s response, elbowing him at his side, Hobie responding with the same. Miguel from his spot above you, shoulders tensed and stare running like a chill down your spine, was far from amused.

"Doesn't appear to be showing up on my scanner." Hobie replied in a mumble, displaying his watch for Miguel to view, looking anywhere except the man above him.

The man groaned, turning to you. "Nothing?"

You nodded your head, smacking the watch with your palm for good measure, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of it. "Hey!" Miguel snatched your wrist, holding it his chest. "Sensitive technology, cabrón. Don't handle it like your toys."

You huffed, attempting to pull yourself free, Miguel smirking from above you. "You don't know how I play with my toys," Raising your mask to stick out your tongue, Miguel was thoroughly stunned, releasing you from his grasp.

He clicked his tongue, "toñto."

The three of you decided it was in your best interest to part ways for the time being, scouring the streets for the supposed anomaly, not a trace of where they could've gone in sight. As far as files had gone, Lyla nagging you with information as you wandered the streets, you were dealing with someone who had the ability to camouflage in some form, rendering it impossible for them to be picked up on the scanners. Perhaps an ability of invisibility, but you couldn’t be sure.

It was as though they'd vanished entirely, flat off the face of your universe, but according to your cumulative watches, a disturbance still persisted.

What could it be?

"Spider!" A voice you hadn't heard in a few days called out to you, blonde ribbons filling your vision, "Been a minute, hasn't it? How are you holding up?"

You smiled beneath the mask, grateful for simple conversation that didn't entail work. "I find I'm doing well, Officer. I hope I'm not under arrest?"

Hunter waved his hand, smiling at you with a roll of his eyes, "No way! Captain Perez is mental if he thinks I'm arresting the city's protector."

"I wouldn't call myself a protector, per say."

"Oh I would," Hunter approached you, taking your hands in his own, finger circling your palm. "I've been a diligent observer of your work for quite some time, Spider. You started this business when I was only a freshman, and so were you!"

"How do you know how..."

"I keep a close eye on the things I like. And you? I like you the most!"

The interaction had gone from wholesome to horrifying in a mere matter of seconds, a nervous laugh preceding your attempt at escape, finding his grip around your wrist tightened. "What I wouldn't give to see the face beneath the mask..." A hand detached from your wrist, snaking up the back of your head, "I promise Captain Perez would be none the wiser... Just a peek?"

You tensed, hands against the man’s wrists, squeezing in an effort to get away. Why was it that when you believed someone to have your best interests at heart, they always seemed to prove you wrong?

You couldn’t meet anyone as a Spider without them yearning for who lied beyond the mask, admiration be damned. You couldn’t get close to anyone as yourself, breaking bonds to protect what remained of your connection, losing everything in the end.

And isolation persisted once more.

You mustered all your strength to push against him, the officer stumbling a good few paces backwards before looking to you in astonishment, rejection. "Spider, I didn't mean..."

"Do yourself a favor and keep your hands off 'em." Hobie stood beside you, arm latching around your neck as he rested his weight against you, free hand pointing to the officer. "They ain't interested, man. Take a hint."

"Oh, you misunderstand!” He shook his hands in front of his face, “I'm merely an admirer, a bystand—“

Miguel seemed to manifest from nothing, towering over Hunter, hands to his hips, deviously smirking beneath the mask "Admiration can be done from afar."

Hunter took the hint, hobbling away, leaving you without so much as a wave of his hand. You breath stilled, hand pressed to your chest as you registered what had just occurred. "Thanks for the assist, Hobie. Really saved my a—"

Miguel interrupted you, "Language."

"Ass."

Miguel clicked his tongue, departing from the both of you, continuing his surveillance of the nearby area. There had to be something you were missing, something Layla had failed to debrief, and he would sooner keel over in a heap of webs than admit defeat — admit the anomaly had breached the confines of your universe.

"I wasn't the one to suggest assistance. Quite frankly, I wanted to see how it'd play out." Hobie had his hands in his pockets, walking at your side as the both of you scanned for something, anything.

You were perplexed, looking up at him as though he were speaking a foreign language, grown a second head. "Then who—"

"Who’d ya think?

taglist: @coralineyouareinterribledanger (never done a taglist before so lmk if u wanna be added) :)

#across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara #spiderman

[darkpoisonouslove]

3, 6, 19 and 21 for Valtor and 2, 4 and 25 for Daphne from the character ask game? 🙏

Thanks for the questions!

Valtor:

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

How overpowered he is. This is literally the crux of pretty much every issue with him. I'm going to take them one at a time.

First off, it is ridiculously easy for him to just get what he wants. He barely encounters any obstacles at all, especially when the Winx aren't there to fight him. This creates inconsistencies with the backstory. If it is this easy for him to steal magic and he's so powerful, it is hardly believable that he wasn't doing this before he was imprisoned or that if he was doing it, the Company were able to limit the damage he'd do (especially since the leftover Company members seem so powerless against him in the present when they should be even stronger as fighters after the 17 years they've had to acquire wisdom, experience and to develop their magical abilities further; make it make sense!). And not just that. The idea that he can just waltz into both CT and Alfea, take over the first and dispose of the head of the latter, not to mention what he did on every other world he set foot on, erases any kind of stakes from the story. It implies that he cannot be stopped by the authorities. So why is he hiding then instead of taking over the world since nothing has given us the indication that there is a force that could stop him? Leaving that issue aside, he just succeeds too easily, which makes everyone else look like weak, incompetent morons and doesn't help him either. Most of the places he robs of their magic were hardly protected at all when making him struggle a little but still succeed and outsmart his enemies would have done much more to highlight his power and cunning. They just go about building him up as a threat in the wrong way.

Secondly, he starts to unravel so badly from 3x18 onwards. The minute they introduced the Agador Box, it was game over for him and his credibility as a villain. This might seem to go against the idea that he's overpowered as the Box seemed to be a plot device demonstrating that he, too, is limited. But the truth is that nothing they'd shown before has given us any indication that power could ever become too much for him. The Box doesn't make sense when his goal was always to collect power and he himself never gave any indication that he was getting overloaded in order to foreshadow his need for it. The truth is that they needed a way for Winx to defeat him after they went overboard with his abilities and the Box was pretty much it. All his spells go in, then with the help of some fairy dust all his spells go out. Boom! Problem solved. By a cheap plot to get rid of the virtually invincible villain they created. If they'd set some limits from the start, this literally never would have been an issue. I'd actually argue that it makes way more sense for him to come with preexisting limits installed by the Ancestral Witches. After all, they wouldn't want their creation somehow amassing enough power to overthrow them and possibly kill them. It would have given him something to overcome and been a much more organic way to keep him at a power level that wouldn't require them to turn him into a pathetic wet cat for the Winx to be able to defeat him.

And lastly, I think his invulnerability contributes the most to people misinterpreting him. I have seen Valtor stans swearing up and down that he is composure personified and so in control of himself, which just... isn't true. Valtor is calm and collected for the majority of the season not because that is who he is as a character but because there is nothing that can oppose him and truly stand in his way. Think about any instance when something doesn't go like he wants it to, be it mind-controlled Ediltrude and Zarathustra telling him Griffin is trying to escape in 3x11, the Winx and their teachers failing his plan to kill Bloom in 3x14 or the Trix laughing at him in 3x25. His instant reaction is violent anger (less so in 3x11 but super evident in both of the other examples). Really, his composure is proportionally tied to his excessive power that no one else can challenge. And in those last episodes when it becomes clear his power is not going to be enough, he's not unraveled completely yet because he's exploiting everyone else's emotional weaknesses such as siccing the Trix on Bloom in 3x22 under guise of letting them fix their mistake from 3x20 and lying to Bloom he's absorbed her parents into his body in 3x23 to save his skin. He still believes that he can win because he's holding the better hand but once his spells are scattered in 3x25 and he loses the Trix as his minions, he goes completely off the rails. That is to say that his power is a crutch and limiting it from the start could have afforded more opportunities to explore his character, make him more interesting and compelling if he has to struggle and isn't allowed to keep his composure this much.

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

Being obsessed with Griffin

Too many things for comfort. Definitely the pride that easily crosses into arrogance. Recently someone told me that they've noticed I can act quite arrogant and I was like "We know but hey!" I'm pretty sure that it's not in the grand proportions in which it is with Valtor though so... at least I have that going for me. 😅

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

Well, that's easy. I HATE what they did with him and the Trix. Okay, he wants to keep them under his thumb by making them bicker with each other but a) that shouldn't have worked after the previous season and what happened with Darkar and b) why would he feel the need to manipulate them when it's never indicated that they can be a threat to him? I am a firm believer that they should have leaned way more into the fact that the Trix are descendants of the Ancestral Witches. They could have mostly kept his strategy of divide and conquer but with the added bonus that he is implied to be mega uncomfortable in the Trix' presence because of how much they remind him of the Ancestral Witches. That would have done wonders for his character and saved that particular subplot. His discomfort with the Trix would perfectly foreshadow his confrontation with the Ancestral Witches in 3x26 and could give us context of why Valtor is amassing so much magic (to ensure he'll never be under his mothers' thumb again). It'd give more depth to his character and make him feel more real when there is a negative situation he's desperate to avoid.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

My favorite thing is to have him be wrong about something/have someone else (usually Griffin) get the upper hand on him, lol. I think you can easily infer why from all my ranting in the first question so I'm not going to rehash that whole thing again here. I'll just add that it's really satisfying to watch someone wipe his smug look off his face. 10/10 would recommend at every possible opportunity. (Quick note: the way his defeat was handled on the show wasn't even cathartic because they had already torn him down so much since 3x18 through the script itself that Winx didn't really get to crush him in a satisfying way, especially considering how personal he made things for them during the season.)

I don't like having to write his speech patterns because I am always second guessing whether he sounds the way he's supposed to. He does have a more formal way of speaking and I have to remind myself of that constantly. It's a struggle to keep his dialogue in character and I am not a fan of that. But like everything, it gets easier the more you practice it.

Daphne:

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

That's so tough considering how badly canon treats her. I'm still unclear on whether her being the previous Keeper of the Dragon Fire is just one dub's version or canon all around. While to me that's always been canon, I'm gonna be very controversial with my unpopular opinion - my favorite thing about her is that she was resurrected. Yes, season 6 could have hardly treated her worse and yes, they probably brought her back for Bloom's sake, not her own but I am happy regardless because it pisses people off Daphne deserves to be more than just the ghost that died for Bloom's sake. Her season 6 storyline may suck but it is the first time that the show has treated her as her own character rather than as a prop for Bloom's story and I support that idea. I really wish people would think about that instead of insisting that Daphne stay dead just because the show dropped the ball with the execution of her revival.

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

Oh, ouchie, that's a tough question. It may be because of my long-standing obsession that's currently been kicked into motion again but the first thing that popped into my head was The Hunger Games. There is just a great similarity between Daphne and Katniss both going above and beyond to protect their little sisters. And thinking about this a little more in-depth, that would actually do Daphne a very big favor because it will allow her story and feelings to be explored like they never were on the show. If she were the main character just like Katniss is, she doesn't have to be sidelined for the sake of focusing on Bloom. Daphne will be the center of the story which will allow us to witness her journey and more of her character. She would still be defined by her sacrifice for Bloom (so her character won't be warped beyond recognition) but she won't have to be contained and limited by it. She can have her own story and be the main player in it, have her trauma explored because that is one of the central things The Hunger Games focuses on.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Oh, it's impossible to remember what my first impression was because it's been about 20 years since then. But I am positive that I always loved Daphne! However, now I am able to appreciate the nuances to her character and all the potential that she has. She's definitely one of my faves and deserved so much better!

#winx club #winx valtor #winx daphne #ask #solisvia #winx meta #meta

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for vehemently hating a beloved hero?

I (???, M) am not your usual lifeform. You could say that I'm similar to clouds. Despite being similar to clouds, I also somehow have an eye that allows me to see. I'm capable of raining down lightning bolts.

The first time I fought this stupid hero (???, M) was a very long time ago. I don't even care to be courteous enough to allow this imbecilic thing to be referred to with an initial, I hate him that much.

I really wanted to beat him in a fight. But instead, he beat me. He humiliated me. It made me so, so angry when I had to accept the fact that I was bested by this dumb kid that's somehow incredibly powerful. I know it might sound petty to be hating on a child, but I do not give two cruds... HE MADE ME TOO EMBARASSED!

I tried to fight him again as revenge. But he beat me again. It made me even angrier, it made me want to keep plotting revenge.

But as I kept fighting him again and again, I never won. He keeps kicking my butt every time, humiliating me every time.

Curse that insufferable, overrated hero. He can go sit on a cactus.

I'm also quite influential, by the way. I've been depicted in art by a well renowned young artist. Apparently, I've heard stories where she was mind-controlled by some evil force, and summoned art versions of me that got destroyed by that same unbearable, dreadful hero.

... Makes me want to find that evil force to combine with them, if that's what it takes to finally triumph that little cretin once and for all. But even then, I doubt it, because of course he'd probably still win anyways. For crying out loud... can he EVER lose?

I've never given up fighting him, by the way. I know I should probably stop, but UGGGHHHH... I just don't care. I hate him too much. I want to finally beat him, and so I never give up. I will never stop being mad.

There's tons of variants and branch-offs of me, showing how influential I am. It shows that some people do support me in trying to finally stop this awful, insufferable hero. If I have to be the most evil thing ever while trying to fight this stupid kid, then so be it!

Sometimes in my fights with this dumb turd, there's smaller versions of me that try to help. I like to consider them my children, due to how close they are to me and how loyal they are to me in trying to fight the same enemy. But sadly, they don't help much, and that atrocious kid has the gall to kick their butts too! It makes me hate him even more. It builds enough hate in me to keep fighting, even if I darn well know that it's to my detriment. I... simply... don't care!

Surely, this intolerable, detestable and aggravating hero must know how much I hate him, right? He's gotta realize it by now.

...Did he think I'd forget? The time he smashed me with his high jump? That time I was betrayed by ones that were supposed to help me! Or when I was replaced by that mechanical knock-off of me! I-I... sniff... there's something in my eye.

AITA, despite the pain and suffering I go through?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

[blackstarchanx3new]

yes, surprisingly I’m putting another one because I’m annoying

so-

out of these LOVELY carbon based life forms

(Yes I am aware my art sucks, but ibis paint and shattered iPhone do NOT MIX)

would win in a fight (-triforce stuffs because that would give unfair advantages I think)

I swear, people always wanna power scale characters I write and my response will ALWAYS be:

"Well that depends"

Because I don't write characters based on "Is he over 9,000!?" dragonball logic lmfao.

Dark Link HYPOTHETICALLY could slap the ever loving shit out of all 4 Links if he used his powers right RIGHT NOW in the comic. Comic could be over within 2 seconds if that was the case. (Shadow is disqualified because the triforce of power is)

Because the dude, can literally break your mind in a second and then stab the fuck out of you if he REALLY felt like it.

But...He WOULDN'T. Because in his own words that's "Boring".

Dark Link doesn't play the typical "WHEN YOU'RE OUT OF MY WAY I'LL RULE THE WORLD" because that's literally the last thing on this dude's mind.

Dark's motivations keep him from doing anything that'd end the comic.

Dark's motivations of wanting to be given affection completely cancel out the idea he WOULD hurt the Link's physically long term because he wants them alive.

So the idea "Dark could slap everyone in a second flat" is null and void imo because of characterization reasons. He'd. Never. Do. That.

HE COULD. But he WOULDN'T.

I find hypotheticals that completely disregard the characterization super boring as well "Who is the strongest" Is such a silly question.

Because it tosses out the question "Well would they really do that?"

How do you define power?

Especially when placing arbitrary restrictions like "No Triforce" because, well.. you know the answer then?

Shadow Link is the strongest because he has the triforce of Power. He trumps Dark in that department but also has control over Dark because Dark is a demon. But then, Link hypothetically can slap the shit out of Shadow if he really needed too...Because Link canonically has the power to slap Gannon silly.

But "Why the fuck would they do that" is the prevailing question?

They are written this way for a reason.

I make strong as hell characters (Dark included) but the "power scaling" is mostly defined by their personalities/what they'd actually do.

Because then we get into the question "What is strength actually?" emotional strength? Physical? Magical?

I have a writing rule:

OP Character? Make their restrictions based on their personality.

Cause this isn't two characters fighting in a void...this is a comic with a story flow and specific characterization built the way it is to get to a point.

"That's not what the story is about" is the blunt answer I have.

Dark doodle for my writing rant troubles.

I guess what bugs the hell out of me by the question "Who's the strongest" is

"What the fuck led to this hypothetical death match to begin with?"

and I just cannot fathom a reason why this would be happening because my characters are not written for these weird hypotheticals.

The fights that are in my stories are there, because it furthers the plot. Not to show off power?

They're written for the story they're contained in, in which there are very specific rules they must follow because my brain said so.

"Character x will win this fight, because that's how the story goes, if it were to go the other way, the story would end."

The question itself is antithetical to the idea of the stories I tell.

#four swords returns #four swords returns au

[starflungwaddledee]

so i know your au focuses on bandee, but i was thinking of doing this for morpho magolor so i want your input

do you think it would be possible for morpho magolor to obtain a traitor form one way or another? i sketched a concept but i don;t know where it would fit

I'm just asking because you're the chrysalis au creator

responding to these (i got your other messages too), and while i don't mind you asking my input, i will say you absolutely don't have to ask me or anything! especially because it can take me some time to reply!

chrysalis au is very specifically about the scenario wherein morpho possesses bandee in its attempts to get to kirby. that's about the beginning and end of the plot of it on my end! morpho 'possession' designs or plotlines as a whole are not something i have universal decree over, and there are plenty of other really cool ones out there!

also, for what it's worth i did eventually find that really banger morpho magolor design i'd mentioned seeing before, and it was by @deafeninggardenerpanda here and also here. i could not possibly design anything that slaps harder than this one does. the shape language. the colours. the fkn... the tails on the cloak. the style of the hood. the single antenna. delicious.

anyway. the fact that chrysalis au focuses on bandee because he is My favourite little guy (or at least tied for it, with magolor) is kind of the point! you can make your own aus about your own morpho magolor headcanons that have nothing to do with mine and aren't beholden to my ideas in any way!

if you're simply curious about what i would creatively do with magolor in this sort of situation wrt traitor magolor in particular, i don't see any reason why morpho couldn't obtain the traitor form. i'd probably go with either...

1: it simply arrives later and possesses traitor magolor. traitor magolor, and perhaps especially soul magolor, is arguably only passably alive in the first place, so i think the butterfly wouldn't have any difficulties with reaping him. he'd presumably also already be fighting kirby, so if morpho's goal is to battle kirby, easy segue. 2: it puppets the already possessed morpho magolor towards the crown and makes him put it on his head without permission. imo there's a high chance that morpho knows exactly what would happen, far more than magolor ever did, so it would likely engineer the circumstance to obtain the increase in power from the crown.

while i don't think the crown poses a risk to morpho itself, i'm not sure if it would particularly enjoy battling the master crown for control of the body it's possessing. the power hike would have to be well worth the effort. i suppose worst case scenario (for morpho at least) is that it would just ditch whatever was left of traitor/soul magolor, and go on to the next body.

#best of luck with your AU!!! you should simply have fun with it and write whatever brings you personally the most joy! #that's what i do!! #also if you are ever wondering why it takes me a while to answer some asks it's because i have over 75 in my inbox rn!! #actually once i answer these two it will be precisely 75. and i earnestly want to get to all of them. but... yknow. takes time! takes time. #i'm planning to do some big batch answers over the next month tho so hopefully that'll help! #asks #morpho

[hegoeshardasfuck]

you got something i need, kind of dangerous (and i'm losing control, i'm not used to this)

wordcount: 2.1K

tags: omegaverse, beta Sasuke, Alpha/Omega Naruto, feral behavior, consensual but not safe or sane, rough sex, blood, size difference, fluff and smut, porn without plot, passing out during sex, aftercare, background polyamory

synopsis: Sasuke finally gets a chance to fuck around and find out when Naruto's losing himself to the grips of Kurama, and he almost regrets it when he wakes up bandaged

note: sasunaru with a side of sasusakunaru for good measure, sakura does not get laid, sorry guys. im still really happy with how this one turned out actually, so I hope you all enjoy too, and consider dropping a like or checking the Ao3 port if you do.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53180320

There's this thing that happens to Sasuke whenever the seal cracks and Naruto gets big. Tails shooting from his pelvis and thrashing about despite their disproportionate size and weight to his body, his pupils slit and those whisker like markings on his face darken and define. He goes animal, body morphing just three steps further from human and three steps closer to Kurama, mind peeled back to a fight or flight model with nothing but the barest recognition of friend or foe.

And if nothing else in the world could get Sasuke truly hot and bothered it would be watching Naruto fucking lose it, he's gotten better at controlling it over the years, but there's still error. There are still days where something goes wrong to a degree that if Sasuke were innocent he would find unreal, and on those days Naruto gets big. The tails he'd quelled all sprout up and his body shifts and his fangs grow out and Sasuke shudders as he watches his mate utterly eviscerate whoever stands in their way. Watching as the Alpha spirit that Kurama carries around swiftly overtakes ever single Omega sensibility that Naruto grew into despite the fiery innards he was never afraid to wield.

Today, is very, very close to one of those days- the only difference being that Sasuke told Naruto he wanted to have sex while the seal was chipping away.

Clawed hands, dripping with blood and viscera that shot up his arms and splattered across his body near comically, gently hold Sasuke's face. The fox demon has to hunch just a bit to be close to face to face with his mate, he still tilts the ravenettes head up. He's oozing a scent of domination that the Beta goes weak legged under, breathing heavy and face red. Naruto grins, all sharp teeth and a tongue brushing over those pearly fangs, he taps his claws along arteries in time with Sasuke's heartbeat

A swath of tails curls along a leg as he goes to walk a circle around the Uchiha, stance low and feral but his cognition is higher than it should be. The demon and the human in agreement just this once when it came to how to treat Sasuke, Naruto letting Kurama cage up the Omega to let the Alpha run wild and free. He takes deep huffs of Sasuke's scent, catching the depth of it all, each facet he can pick up.

Fear and arousal and impatience, it all comes off strong. Even more so when Naruto nips at a scent gland and a few tails swipe along what little skin Sasuke shows. The ravenette shudders and falls back against Naruto a bit, razor sharp fangs tracing along his throat in a manner that's much more feral than sexual. It's the same difference to Sasuke, animal, sensual, intent to kill, intent to seduce- he'll misinterpret because he knows that the demon is holding onto Naruto's Omega at the moment.

Hands so much larger than his own rest along the edge of his top and pull it wide open, the fabric is layered in a way it won't tear but claws trail across skin and leave blood that doesn't belong to either of them. It's warm but the temperature pales in comparison to the heat oozing from Naruto's form as more of the fabric falls off. Heavy breaths puff along tender skin marred by twin bites and he can feel his brain start to shut down over how small he is right now.

He knows Naruto could tear him to shreds with ease, one swift motion and his guts are falling out, and maybe that risk entices Sasuke. Maybe the threat of this knocking him out or leaving him dead is part of the allure, the overall danger despite the fact it's as safe as having sex with his mate whose currently being aided by the nine tailed foxes physicality can be. An ankle hooks around one of his own and his mind lurches into reality as he's pulled impossibly close and his mate hunches over him.

"Do you remember the safe word?" The voice is a quiet husk mixed with the type of sternness that could make any living creature crumble.

"Are you gonna listen?" Sasuke countered with.

There's a low hum from Naruto, "Fair point, I guess that means this might be your last chance to back out, Sasuke," The subtlest hint of a challenge rests on Naruto's voice. He hears the hasten in Sasuke's heartbeat and grins against his mates neck, "You're in?"

Sasuke nodded, "All in."

And without another word he finds himself being slammed into the closest surface, a tree, thankfully one that's mildly mossy. Nothing cracks but he aches regardless, only to cry out as sharp teeth come to nip at his neck. Over and over, biting and gnawing and drawing small amounts of blood that elicit deep rumbling purrs from his chest that shake Sasuke to his core. The Beta's knees are shaking until ankles hook around his own to stabilize him and the back of his knees don't even graze Naruto's knees, it grounds how small he is into his head ever further.

He will at least partially admit that the bulge grinding against his ass is a little bit… Intimidating and not something he planned for but he'll work it out. He's been pegged by his other mate, he'll be fine, perfectly fine. The snarling and yipping going on above and beside his head as he watches claws tear up bark is just as intimidating. Also erotic and fear inducing because if he moves so much as an inch they'll be tearing into him instead and he doubts any form of substitution jutsu could save him. He sways out a hand as a test and the heel of Naruto's palm grounds into it, pain rips through him and he tenses as he screams.

The pressure lets up immediately and the nibbling at his throat and his collar bone and his shoulder stops. He pushes himself up on his tippy toes, bringing bruised and bitten flesh closer to his mates maw. It goes ignored and the fabric at his waist and downward is swiftly discarded with the distinct sound of fabric shredding. He feels blood on his thighs, hot, fresh, it's his in a few thin lines running almost to his knees. Hands grasp the tree for support when Naruto rears back entirely only to drop down and lap at the wounds, poised in a feral manner with his tails swaying ever so happily.

It gives Sasuke time to breath if nothing else, even with a tongue pressed against his wounds and lapping at them desperately for his ichor. His breathing is labored and his body is aching, he was not ready for this, at all- but if he isn't loving every single second of it. The Beta and Omega dynamic he's had with Naruto for so long being flipped on it's head is a welcome change, even if it leaves him wrapped in bandages and slamming back pain meds in the long run. The rough texture of a tongue along his thigh is swiftly accompanied by hands tightly gripping his ankles to keep him upright.

Or not, he quickly decides when his feet are being tugged out from under him, shoulder slamming against the tree. It tears a yelp out of him even more so as hands grasp his hips and raise him up, his knees scrape against the ground the same way his face scrapes against the tree. Heavy breathes hit the back of his throat as tails coil around his body with a mind of their own to ground him in one spot, no backing out now.

"Ready?" It's a rhetorical question because if Sasuke isn't ready then he won't have time to get ready. His body is bracketed as the weight of his mates cock rests just above him, he's shaking, just a bit nervous.

Sasuke nodded, "I'm ready."

Claws, razor sharp and the blood now cooled, trace up the front of Sasuke's throat. His head tilts back along the pressure to avoid punctuation, hot breath resting along his ear and he moans quietly. Naruto is panting just a bit, excitement coursing through him, "Good."

There is no easing into it, a few swift motions and the weight of Naruto's body is pinning him down. Pressing his bones closer to the fracturing point, he cries out in a pleasure that's carefully decorated with stinging pain. His fingers dig into the dirt as he leans his torso further against the tree for a support the tails are failing to give. His core quakes in twitchy tremors as he tries to keep his knees from giving. He swears his heart might be pushed out of his chest and he feels like he can't breath in enough even though he knows his mind is playing tricks on him.

His body was not built for this, he's a Beta. He's built for Alpha's of average stature and soothing Omega's in heat without having to fuck them. He's been trained in lethal combat and jutsu's of varying origin, he taught himself how to fit into a puzzle with three pieces. He couldn't learn how to be the right rank or the right piece or the right person for an Alpha infused with the nine tailed demon, hell, he doubts anything could morph him into the right thing.

So he lets those stinging pierces of pain followed by pleasure's he doubts Naruto will ever let him relieve hit him with every thrust. His body lurches each time but is never allowed to hit the ground at any given moment. Every inch of his skin tingles and his eyes start to blur as he stares down at the ground, lips permanently parted and panting. He shifts a hand and the tails give so he can place it atop one so much larger, then he drops to his side, mostly his upper half.

His breathing is heavy and short, body resting against Naruto and the tree alike. The pace doesn't slow even for a second and he's too busy trying to shock himself into realizing he has enough air in his lungs to make any noise aside from panting and choked yowls and keens. A sense of panic shoots through him when he realizes the pressure slamming against his rim is a knot. That was not supposed to be part of the equation at all, but he braces himself and digs blunted nails into the back of Naruto's hand.

And before he can open his mouth to scream he's blacking out and fully dropping to the ground. He can hear himself hit the dirt and feel his balance spiral out of control before he's truly out cold.

===

Sasuke wakes up to the feeling of bandages on his thighs and his hand and his guts feel all rearranged. He gives a groan as he tries to sit up and everything aches more than he thought possible. He feels a weight against his side, the one that wasn't resting on the tree, and glances over to find Naruto nestled against him. Even in his sleep he reeks of stress but any Alpha pheromones he could've given off are completely replaced by that of an Omega's.

Sakura is sitting down beside their shared bed and she's asleep, crooked awkwardly but slowly coming too. She takes a look at Sasuke before a yawn slips out. She stretches her arms above her head, "The second he snapped out of it he wouldn't leave your side," She rubs her eyes slowly, trying to shake off the residual sleepiness.

"Is he okay?" Sasuke asked and Sakura just looks shocked at the statement, "Emotionally, I mean."

Sakura shrugged, "He did most of the cleanup and bandaging, probably helped his stress. Are you hungry? Or thirsty?" She gives a nervous laugh, "You were out cold when Naruto carried you back, dead to the world, wouldn't wake up at all."

Sasuke gives a low sort of grumble in response, "I'm fine," He splays out his sore arm, "Here, now."

The Haruno gladly takes her place next to Sasuke, sitting up more than he is and twirling his jet black hair between her lithe fingers. He nearly purrs at the gentle touch, a stark contrast to the previous rough treatment that knocked him out. And aside from the throbbing ache in his lower half he'd consider the event to be worth repeating.

He'll just bring Sakura with him next time to take the brunt of it.

#naruto smut #ayyy they got their own smut tag thats nice. wait. other fandoms probably have that too. oh shit. #sasunaru #sasuke x naruto #naruto x sasuke #smutfic #smut fanfiction #lemon #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #naruto

[redlightofdawn]

Seeing if letting my brain write whatever the fuck it wants helps with the no-writing-disease.

1800 words of Clark writing smut and angry thirsting over Bruce bellow the cut!

The thing about Clark Kent, the thing that most people would never guess about Superman was simple and, in a way, almost boring. 

To some people. 

(Clark never cared much about such people.)

The thing was, Clark had always been a writer. Always written, even back when he was a kid and didn't know enough to put everything to paper so he just wrote in his head, instead, telling himself the same stories until they had been edited down to his liking and he could move on to the next one.

The way his parents told it, Clark had always been fascinated with - well, English at first, of course, but then every other language he could get his hands on. He had gone about it a bit funny when he was a kid, they had conceded, too.

(Though what was weird when your baby came from a pod that fell from the sky, really?)

His parents had thought he couldn't speak, at first, he was so quiet. Martha and Jonathan had been going over thrice a week to Mrs Curtas' for ASL lessons for months when Clark said his first word.

And a full grammatical sentence.

At the same time.

While signing along.

And he just had never stopped, it seemed.

Soon he'd been going along to Mrs Curtas' and sounding along his first letters with Martha and watching novelas with Jonathan.

Becoming a journalist had been a logical choice, then, as well as a moral once - he could do good with his words, expose corruption and call for equality, as a journalist, at least in his idealistic mind. But he could have as easily been a novelist, or perhaps a poet.

Using his preciously rare downtime to write erotica wasn't quite as prestigious as the other choices, but it had something of both.

He tried to make his stories interesting, his dialogue realistic and the plot clever but not too clever.

Oh, and he catered to some very specific kinks, too. But he didn't phone it in just because people read it to get off.

Especially since the truth was Clark was, at heart, picky as all could be about what he liked, and well.

He had started writing these stories at first - and truthfully, the reason he still did - to get himself off.

It became a habit, as soon as Clark had gotten his first truly his computer. It was impersonal, most of the time, filling a niche Clark himself was interested in, and then one day there had been this fight at school and Clark had been so keyed up when he got home and-

Well. He’d always written about what got him off. Why not write about who he wanted to get him off?

And it had been harmless. Clark never told anyone nor shared the stories he wrote about real people - and, in a weird way he wouldn’t know how to explain to anyone, Clark did his best to be polite with the way he went about his stories - but then, well. Something he had never really expected to happen, happened.

He had, at that point, been pretty desperate to find a way to cut through some of the tension between him and B, to bring his overwhelming want back down to a controlled simmer, closer to what it had been for years, at that point.

So Clark had written it down. What he had wanted to do that night to B. The way he had wanted B to use him, to take his anger at the world's injustices and take it out on Clark.

(Clark knew, deep down, some of the things he wanted, some of the things that got him off, weren't very… nice, even if he did try to be polite about it. A lot of people would judge him for it - mistrust Superman for it, if they ever knew.

It didn't stop him.)

He didn’t feel particularly ashamed that, over the next several weeks, he wrote and edited and re-wrote with a single hand, the other busy down Clark's trousers. Something about it being the Bat, about the way the man could get under his skin, made it feel okay that Clark was writing it, like he deserved it.

It should have been concerning, was the truth. But then Superman and Batman got into yet another argument, another fight over what justice truly meant and the limits they should hold themselves to, and any guilt Clark might have had faded into the air.

It was probably the reason why Clark published the first book - being angry at B. 

He had changed things around, of course. No identifying traits remained other than similar visual descriptions and personalities. 

But Clark knew it was about Bruce, had been born of a fight with Bruce.

And he published it anyway.

*

Clark was quite proud of his pen name, if he was honest about it. CallMeL had been born of student loans and debts from the farm. Clark had considered a lot of possibilities before turning into a smut peddler, but all of them had bigger drawbacks than some vague moral hangups from having grown up in a small rural area. 

So Clark had signed up with a self publisher and gotten to work.

And, what was more surprising, his books sold.

Not like they were expensive, but if he was honest he’d expected to sell a few copies at most, not to hit top ten in romance on several digital book distributors.

Apparently the years of being a perfectionist about his own porn meant he could write some good smut. 

So that was what Clark did. He wrote what he liked and what he found interesting and his readers? The loved that.

But they especially loved it when Clark wrote for his rapidly-growing series called Suits & subs.

(So sue him, but Clark had been able to think of only one thing since he’d learned of B’s secret identity, and that was how it would feel to have those thick thighs covered in expensive Italian wool and framing his face. At least the feeling seemed to resonate with a lot of his readership.) 

It was meant to be a different couple every time - with rare exceptions, he did sometimes bring back fan-favorites back for special editions - but a minority of his readers had seemed to cotton on to the resemblance all of the rich, domineering men bore to a billionaire in particular: Bruce Wayne.

The irony was so not lost on Clark.

But it wasn’t enough to make him stop, either.

Apparently, he ought to add exhibitionism to the list of kinks he should explore in his upcoming stories.

After all, he did get a thrill of imagining people reading him and B and touching themselves to it.

Sometimes, he liked to think what would happen if Bruce found it. 

Would he recognize himself? Clark? 

Would he like it, get off on it? Would he be embarrassed by seeing situations so close to home turning sexual? Or would he be surprised by seeing his own phantasies echoed on page?

Clark liked to think of that one in particular quite a lot.

Not that it was in any way realistic, he knew. B was many things, but Clark doubted he had time to read selfpub erotica about rich people.

Not a chance.

#my writing #clark kent #superman #bruce wayne x clark kent #clark kent x bruce wayne #bruce x clark #bruce wayne #batman

[bellaxgiornata]

Life Worth Living [Chapter Eleven]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Original Female Character

[You can find the full summary and chapter list for this series here]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains fluff, angst, violence, PTSD, smut (Contains our beloved Defenders and lots of plot twists)

Word Count: 6k

a/n: Olivia is forced to stay with Kilgrave while she's heartsick for Matt in this chapter. And for the record, what hapens to Kilgrave in Jessica Jones is NOT what happens in this fic... Still gradually transferring this series over but feedback is always appreciated!

I had been standing across the street holding onto my black duffle bag for the past ten minutes, one hand nervously toying with the strap over my shoulder. I couldn't find it in me to cross the street. My legs were rooted to the spot I’d been in when I’d left the cab that had dropped me off those ten minutes ago.

I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to see Kilgrave again. I didn’t want to do this.

As I took in the sight of the gorgeous dark gray colonial house in front of me, with its beautiful white pillars on the little front porch and its large, black-shuttered windows, I felt terrified. It was something I hadn’t wanted to admit to Jessica and Malcolm; something I certainly hadn’t wanted to admit to Matt before I’d left to come here. But the truth of it was–Kilgrave made me nervous. 

He was powerful–maybe not physically, but that didn’t matter. I’d seen the things he’d been able to do with nothing but his voice. Watched him make people kill themselves in far worse ways than what he’d done to Ruben. I’d watched him make people kill others for him–torture them, even. On some of my worst nights I still heard the screams of those I’d been unfortunate enough to witness. 

The fact of the matter was that being there, in that house willingly with him, was certainly dangerous. Even if normally I was immune to him, that didn’t stop him from hurting others to try to control me. And I knew without a doubt that was exactly what he’d be doing.

My hands had begun sweating and I tried to wipe my palms against my jeans. I knew he could probably see me right now. He was probably staring out the window at me with some big stupid smile on his face thinking he finally had me. My stomach churned at the thought. 

At least he doesn’t have the advantage of Matt’s heightened senses , I thought. At least he can’t tell I don’t feel as calm and in control as I’m about to pretend I am.

With a shaky exhale, I counted to three and then willed myself to cross the street. I focused hard on forcing myself to take each step, fighting the urge to turn back and run. 

I need to do this , I reminded myself. For Hope, for Ruben, for Jessica and Malcolm, for Matt, Foggy, and Karen. For everyone he’s ever hurt.

Cautiously, I made my way up the long paved walkway to the front door of the house. In the summer I imagined there would be various flowers in bloom on each side of the pathway; blues, yellows, purples, and whites alongside lush green leaves. Now in late fall there was nothing but brown, dead leaves slumping over from harsh, cold winds.

Bet he plans to mind-control a gardener to take care of this.

The thought made me sick. 

I was ten feet from the front door when it opened, revealing Kilgrave and a man who was easily recognizable as a bodyguard with his dark suit and the gun at his hip. 

Of course he'd have an unfair advantage of protection.

"Little dove," Kilgrave cooed happily, a bright smile on his face. "I'm so happy you could join me! I was wondering if you'd show."

I frowned, pausing a few feet from the front door and clinging desperately to the duffle bag slung over my shoulder. My stomach felt like it was climbing up my throat and my palms only began to sweat more. Kilgrave only waved me forward frantically as if he'd been expecting me and I was late. 

Last chance to run…

Even as the thought struck me and my pulse sped up, I knew I couldn’t.

For Hope. Ruben. Jessica and Malcolm. Foggy and Karen. Matt.

With a deep breath, I crossed the few feet left and stepped through the threshold of the front door. But just as I stepped through, Kilgrave’s bodyguard was quickly and silently on me. He removed my duffle bag first and set it aside. Then he turned back to me, not even bothering to ask permission before he began thoroughly patting me down for weapons. My eyes slid questioningly over to Kilgrave, annoyance and disbelief mingling on my features. 

"Just a precaution, little dove," he said, waving off my concern. "I'm not foolish enough to believe you chose to come back to me out of the love we once shared. Though I remain hopeful."

My lip curled into a sneer at the comment. The reminder that I once had real feelings for him was unwelcome, especially right now.

"Welcome home," he continued warmly, spreading his arms out wide around himself, ignoring the look on my face.

My eyes narrowed at the guard who had stepped away, his attention turning to my duffle bag. I watched as he unzipped it, sticking his hands in and digging around my things.

"Not very homey with armed guards," I said sharply.

"That's just Hank," Kilgrave said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He turned to the man rifling through my bag. "Say hello, Hank."

The man paused, a confused look crossing his face as he said, "Hello, Hank."

Kilgrave shrugged and sent me a sheepish look. "Sorry, sometimes I slip. Hard to watch my words so carefully. But don't mistake anything–Hank is here because I pay him. A lot."

I frowned as I gestured to him digging through my bag. "Does he need to be doing that? If I wanted to kill you I wouldn't be standing here."

"Well…yes, he does," he told me. "Trust is a two-way street, Olivia. And that Sufentanil you all shot me up with gave me a killer headache last time." 

He grinned but I knew deep down he was pissed about that; I could tell by the dangerous glint in his eyes as he looked at me. I resisted the urge to smirk at him. I knew that killer headache was probably partly my powers that he didn't know I used on him in conjunction with the Sufentanil and Jessica’s wicked punch to the face.

Hank finished rifling through my bag, rising to his feet before holding it back out to me. I snatched it back from him, quickly throwing the strap over my shoulder. Of course there wasn’t anything in it; I wouldn’t have been dumb enough to show up with a knife or a gun and think he’d just let me walk through the front door with it.

"She’s clean," Hank told Kilgrave as he stepped back a few feet, clasping his hands in front of himself.

"Wonderful," Kilgrave replied brightly as he smiled at me. "One last thing though." He held his hand out expectantly towards me and I eyed it warily. "Your phone, please."

My brows furrowed in confusion and I took a hesitant step back towards the front door. "Why?" I asked him carefully. 

"Like I said," he continued, hand still outstretched, "Trust is a two-way street. I can't have you calling your friends and plotting some new way to drug me and kill me, can I?" When I continued to hesitate he added, "If you prove to me that you're not here for some plot on my life, I'll give it back in a few days time. I promise."

I stared at him for a long moment, my eyes shifting nervously between his still outstretched hand and the smile on his face.

For Hope. Ruben. Jessica and Malcolm. Foggy and Karen. Matt.

I closed my eyes, trying to take a calming breath before I slowly slid my phone out of my front jeans pocket. I stared at it for another long moment; it had a pass code so at least he couldn't easily scroll through the contents on it and my contacts. And everyone important enough to contact me knew where I was and not to reach out. Including Matt. 

Reluctantly I handed the device over, setting it into his still waiting hand. My hand quickly darted back to my side; instantly I felt more exposed and unsafe. I had no way to call for help now.

Kilgrave easily slid my phone into his suit pocket without a second thought, still smiling warmly at me. "Let me show you around," he said, holding his hand out towards me.

I inched back from it abruptly, my back hitting the wall behind me. My heart sped up as I stared at him, remembering the times he'd used those same hands on me when I wasn't in control of myself. 

"We need ground rules if I'm going to be here," I told him, glaring down at his hand.

Kilgrave sighed deeply before putting both hands into his pants pockets. "Alright, I suppose it's only fair if you have some yourself."

"Do not touch me," I immediately shot out, my voice firm.

Kilgrave frowned before he slowly nodded. "You have my promise I will not touch you without your genuine consent."

"And no drugging me with whatever the hell you used on me before," I said quickly. "I'm not…not doing that again."

Now his smile shifted to something I’d never seen on him before–a look of almost genuine sadness and regret. He took a tentative step towards me and I flinched against the wall. He stopped, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized me.

"I feel I must apologize for what I did to you all those years ago," he said softly. There was genuine guilt in his tone, which only caused me to wrap my arms around myself uncomfortably. "That was…truly wrong of me. I have regretted it ever since you left me. Not a day goes by I haven't…haven't realized how wrong it was. Which is why I am so steadfast on you choosing to be here, little dove. I will never do that to you again. And I hope someday I will earn your forgiveness and your love back." 

"Don't get your hopes up," I snapped back, my fingers clutching tight against the leather of my jacket.

He stared at me with that expression on his face for a moment longer before he suddenly brightened, clapping his hands together in front of himself. "How about I introduce you to the staff before our tour, yes?"

Of course…

Two people appeared from around the corner, hurrying to present themselves before me. An older man in a chef's coat and a middle aged woman stood before me. They were smiling nervously as I eyed them carefully, searching for any signs of injury.

"Introduce yourselves," Kilgrave told them.

"Laurent Bouchard," the man said in a very apparent French accent.

"Alva Rivera," the woman spoke quickly.

My eyes narrowed dangerously at Kilgrave as I said, "You know how I feel about you compelling people. I won't live here with slaves ."

"Oh no, now you're being dramatic," Kilgrave teased, ignoring the way my eyes narrowed further. Instead he turned to the two people and said, "Tell Olivia if you're happy with your salaries."

The two brightened visibly and Laurent was quick to answer.

"Absolutely," he told me. "I make twice as much as my last job from which I was fired due to a drinking problem."

"See?” Kilgrave said, raising his brows and shooting me a smile. “Some of us give people a second chance.” He glanced back at the pair and muttered, "That's all. You may leave."

Laurent, Alva, and even Hank left the room, leaving me suddenly very alone with Kilgrave. I tensed on the spot, hugging my arms tighter around myself. 

"Shall I give you the tour now?" he asked hopefully. 

For Hope. Ruben. Jessica and Malcolm. Foggy and Karen. Matt.

"Fine," I grumbled out, repeating the names over and over in my head.

He turned and led me out of the small entryway to the right and into a formal sitting area where a staircase to the left led upstairs. The floor of the entire house appeared to be a light solid oak, wide planked and looking fairly new. There was a dark rug on the floor beneath a black leather sofa. Across the sofa sat two black leather armchairs and in between the seating was a beautiful wooden live edge coffee table that had a few coffee table books beside a potted orchid. 

"This is the sitting room, as you can tell," Kilgrave explained. He stepped forward and pointed to the archway to our left before stepping through. "The kitchen, dining room, and living room are this way," he called back. 

Awkwardly, I followed behind him, keeping a few feet of distance between us. 

The kitchen was large and very modern; dark green cabinets with gold handles sat under a beautiful slab of speckled white granite counters. The appliances looked restaurant quality and were a shiny black stainless steel. My eyes wandered to Laurent who was chopping vegetables on the massive island before sliding to Alva who was cleaning out the dishwasher. She shot me a small smile as she worked. 

Just behind the kitchen was a large room with a big television on the wall positioned in front of a comfortable looking gray sectional sofa. Obviously the living room. I glanced across the room to see Kilgrave watching me with a large smile on his face before he turned and walked into the space to the right of the large kitchen.

"The dining room," he told me.

It was open to the kitchen and held a massive oak table surrounded by at least eight chairs. A large, beautiful rope pendant light hung from the ceiling above it. In the center of the massive table was an extravagant bouquet of white flowers: garden roses, ranunculus, anemones, and o’hara roses. Eucalyptus and Spanish moss dangled from out of the vase. 

"Your favorites," Kilgrave said softly, smiling as he saw me eyeing the arrangement.

Quickly my eyes darted away as I muttered, "Not anymore."

His lips twitched at the corners and for a moment I thought his cheerful facade would crack, but instead he turned and continued forward on towards a set of double French doors. 

"This is the real reason I bought this house," Kilgrave told me.

He swung open both doors wide and stepped back, allowing me to pass through. Cautiously I did, trying to avoid being near him too long.

I fought the reaction that was so close to rising to the surface. I didn't want him to see my approval–I wasn't planning to live here anyway. 

It was a beautiful sunroom that looked more like a greenhouse. The floor was the same oak wood as the rest of the house but the walls were covered in floor to ceiling windows almost everywhere I looked. And the ceilings were at least twelve feet high and vaulted with a few skylight windows allowing more sunlight to pour in. There was a perfect view of the expansive backyard that was probably insanely gorgeous in the spring and summer when the landscaped yard was in bloom and green instead of the half dead appearance it currently had. 

A massive moss green rug covered much of the floor and atop it were a few pure white arm chairs and a white, cozy looking chaise. The few spaces of walls that didn't have windows were instead covered in massive, white built-in bookshelves filled with books, small decorative statues, and many green plants. There was one wall to the far left of the room that was filled with potted plants in varying heights, colors, and vases–on the floor, hanging from the ceiling, on a plant rack. The effect was stunning.

"You once told me you were happiest surrounded by sunlight, plants, and books," Kilgrave said gently.

I jumped back, not having noticed he'd come to stand so near to me. I stepped a few steps away from him uncomfortably, adjusting the duffle bag on my shoulder. Despite the movement, he smiled wider, knowing full well I thought the space was beautiful.

"Why don't I show you upstairs," he said, backing out of the room. "Show you to your room."

I grit my teeth and followed silently behind him through the house and back to the stairs. As I continued up behind him, my hands nervously fidgeted in front of myself. At the top of the stairs there was a bright loft space decorated as a small sitting area that led to a hallway to our left where there were a handful of six-panel white doors.

"The first room is empty," Kilgrave said, pushing the door open lightly. Then he stepped further down the hall and pointed to a bathroom on the right. "Bathroom." He pointed at the end of the hall. "The master, where I hope you will eventually join me."

Immediately I stepped back from him, wincing and stopping dead in my tracks. That was never going to happen.

"And this is your room," Kilgrave told me, pushing open the door to our left and ignoring my reaction.

"I'm impressed you weren't planning on forcing me to share your room," I muttered bitterly.

Kilgrave grunted from beside me in the hallway, the noise a sound of vague annoyance.

"As I said before: I'm not foolish enough to think you came here because you missed me, little dove," he told me again. "I told you, I want you to choose me. To choose to be here."

My eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. "What makes you so confident I'll want to choose you?"

"You did, once," he told me with a warm smile. He waved a hand at the room in front of us. "Would you like to see your room?"

I turned and headed into the bedroom, my eyes scanning everything immediately for any sort of threat. I relaxed just slightly when I didn't see any. 

The room was painted a simple white which made it appear warm and bright. At the opposite wall from the door there was a large queen bed with a stunning headboard; carved wood to look like a massive sun rising up from behind the bed. The bed sheets were a crisp white and the duvet was a beautiful burnt orange color made out of a fabric that looked soft to the touch. Underneath the bed, spread across the hardwood, was a plush rug with an abstract pattern filled with creams, oranges, blues, and maroons. There were modern nightstands situated on both sides of the bed, each with a lamp and a few small succulents. On the wall to the left there was a dresser made out of a beautiful oak covered in plants and a few books. Beside it was a large door–presumably the closet. The wall to the right had a large window which overlooked the landscaped backyard gardens; sheer white curtains were flanked by thicker ones that matched the same burnt orange of the duvet. A few abstract paintings were perfectly spaced around the walls. 

I swallowed hard, trying not to show my appreciation for the decor, but Kilgrave somehow noticed. His smile grew wider as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. I nervously adjusted the strap of my duffle bag on my arm. The house was stunning, perfectly decorated; honestly it was a house straight from my dreams. But the fact that Kilgrave was the one presenting it to me as home only made me feel sick to my stomach. 

"I remembered how you loved this style," he told me, voice low as he spoke from beside me. "I hired the best designer after I purchased the house. Had them style everything to your tastes. I remembered how much you loved indoor plants." 

"Growing up in a cage without seeing the outside world will do that," I grumbled.

He stepped forward, lowering his head into my line of sight. I immediately took an instinctive step back which only caused him to raise his hands to show he meant no harm. 

"This isn’t a cage, little dove," he told me gently. 

I quirked a brow at him as I frowned. "Yeah? That why there's a bodyguard? And why I can't have my phone? And probably can't leave?"

Kilgrave’s warm smile fell as he straightened back up. His hands went back into his pockets again.

"I told you," he said, "you have rules in place to trust me, and I have mine so I can trust you." He shrugged lightly. "Trust goes both ways in a healthy relationship."

I laughed bitterly at his words. Healthy relationship? With him? What could he possibly know about a healthy relationship?

He turned and began to make his way towards the hallway. I tensed, wondering what was coming next. He paused in the doorway, turning back to look at me.

"I'll give you some space to settle in," he told me. "I'm just glad you came, little dove." He gestured towards the closet. "There's a dress in there for you. For tonight. I had planned a nice dinner for us here."

"I'm not eating or drinking anything in this house," I told him firmly.

He paused a moment, quietly surveying me with a curious expression. His eyes were partially narrowed at me as his jaw worked in thought. And then a bright smile spread along his mouth. 

"Fair enough, we can order from anywhere you like. Have it delivered. Would that make you feel better?" he asked me. When I didn't answer his frown deepened. "You have to eat, little dove. Can't starve yourself. I won't touch the food or drinks. I promised I wouldn't…wouldn't do that to you again. I mean it. I want you to choose me."

I chewed my lip in thought for a moment. If there was no way he touched my food then I supposed it would be safe for me to eat. Hesitantly I answered with a small nod.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed, sliding his hands out of his pockets and clapping them together. 

My frown only deepened at his enthusiasm. I watched as he stepped farther into the hall before I quickly crossed the room, ready to close and lock the door to feel some semblance of safety from him.

"I'll leave you to get settled," he told me again.

Wordlessly I closed the door, twisting the lock. I spun, resting my back against the solid wood and letting my head fall back against it. My eyes slowly closed as I tried to focus on my breathing.

I was tired after everything that had happened last night and this morning. And I was terrified of being trapped in this house with Kilgrave without even my phone to check in with anyone. 

For Hope. Ruben. Jessica and Malcolm. Foggy and Karen. Matt.

My eyes opened and I eyed the bed cautiously. It looked so warm and comfortable. I was exhausted. He wouldn't shove a pill down my throat while I was sleeping, would he? He seemed pretty adamant that he wanted me to remain of my own free will–to be able to make my own choices. 

With a sigh I crossed the room and stopped at the end of the bed, letting the duffle bag drop on the rug at my feet with a dull thud . I slowly pulled off my jacket before letting it fall on top of my bag.

If I'm going to be staying here a few days, I need to be able to sleep. I'll just have to trust that he's serious about not drugging me…

I walked around the bed and reached out, fingers stroking the duvet cover lightly. It was incredibly soft. I pulled the cover and the sheets back before carefully sliding into the bed underneath them, still fully dressed. Even the white sheets were buttery smooth against my skin. I settled into the mattress, pulling the sheets high up to my chin before grabbing the extra pillow and holding it tight to my chest. Very slowly my eyes closed.

It took awhile for me to let my guard down enough to eventually drift off to sleep.

°•°•°•°•°•°

I adjusted the soft green blanket tighter around myself, drawing it higher up to my chin. I had been curled up on my couch watching a Christmas movie after dinner, exhausted from staring at my computer monitor all day. My eyes were starting to drift closed, lulled into a sense of calm from the movie. 

A tap came from across the room and my eyes flew open at the noise. Another tap came again and I slowly sat up on the couch, rubbing a hand across my tired eyes as I looked over the backrest to see where the noise had come from. The man in the mask–Matt–was crouched on the fire escape beside one of the large windows beside my desk.

I pushed the blanket off of me, waking up instantly at the sight of him. I made my way over and unlocked the window, sliding it up before stepping aside to let him in. He climbed through, letting out a hiss of pain as he did. 

"Are you okay?" I asked him as I closed the window, shutting the cold back out.

Matt grunted as he straightened. While my eyes scanned over him for injuries, he began to take his mask off.

"I'm fine," he assured me. "Some mugger just got in a good hit. Was actually pretty quiet tonight."

"So you're…done for the night?" I asked him slowly.

He turned towards me, his maskless face smiling down at me as dimples formed along his cheeks. His hair was mussed from the mask and some sweat, but otherwise he looked fine–no injuries. 

"I wanted to see you," he admitted, taking a step towards me. "I missed you today."

I crossed the space between us and wrapped my arms around his waist, melting into him when he wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders. I quickly buried my face into his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of him.

"Well you're just in time," I told him, my tone teasing and muffled against the thin fabric of his shirt. "I'm just a few minutes into a bad romantic Christmas movie."

He chuckled, the noise vibrating deep in his chest. "Of course you are."

"I could use a cuddle partner…" I mumbled sleepily.

He lightly kissed the top of my head before whispering into my hair, "Good. I thought I detected a beautiful woman in need of a big spoon."

I giggled, pulling out of the hug and placing a hand dramatically against my forehead. "What would I have done without you coming to my aid, Devil of Hell's Kitchen? Cuddle…alone?" I gasped loudly before breaking into more giggles. 

Matt laughed, his hand finding mine and slowly leading me back to the couch. "What I do is such hard work but who else would cuddle the lonely women of Hell’s Kitchen at night?" he teased, laughing when I slapped his chest, "Someone has to do it."

Matt slid onto my couch first, sliding his legs under my blanket before holding out his arms for me. Grinning, I situated myself in front of him, sprawling out along the sofa with my back pressed up against his front. He pulled the blanket up around us both as I leaned back into him before he got comfortable with a pillow on the armrest. As I rested my head on my arms, he threw one of his over me protectively, wrapping it around my stomach. I reached down, slipping my hand into his before bringing our hands up so his knuckles rested against my lips. A pleasant sound almost like a purr came from him at the gesture.

"So what's this one about?" he whispered, somehow managing to tug me in tighter against himself. 

I smirked as I answered, "It's the one where she falls in love with a mannequin that came to life."

Behind me, Matt groaned loudly as I burst into a laugh. My head craned back to look at him and the faux look of exasperation on his face.  

"My poor Devil," I teased.

I leaned towards him, shifting so my mouth could place a soft peck on the bottom of his chin. The stubble of his beard scratched my lips pleasantly and I watched as his eyes fluttered closed as he made a soft noise of contentment.

My eyes flew open and were met with sudden darkness before they adjusted to the unfamiliar room. For a moment I was confused before my brain remembered where I was. I groaned, burying my face into the pillow I was clutching tight to my body. Why did I have to dream about Matt right now like that? I could feel a hollow ache in my chest at the thought of him and I tightened my hold on the pillow that I desperately wished was the man I'd just been dreaming about.

And now, after that dream, I had to go play house with Kilgrave. 

With a groan of frustration, I tossed the covers off of me and threw my legs over the side of the bed. Pausing to rub my hands roughly over my eyes a few times, I tried to rid my mind of the image of Matt smiling down at me in the dark of my apartment and the feel of him wrapped around me.

Now is not the time…

With a huff I stood up and wandered over to the light switch by the door and flipped it on, flooding the room in light. My eyes landed across the room to the closet door. I frowned when I remembered Kilgrave told me he'd left me a dress. 

I wandered over to the closet and very hesitantly opened it. Hanging inside was a lone dress; it was a deep purple–of course, his favorite color–that had a surprisingly modest neckline. It was sleeveless and quite obviously form fitting. And much too fancy and expensive to be worn sitting in a dining room in this house, but Kilgrave always loved to have the best and finest of everything. My eyes darted down, noticing the dark purple heels below the dress. 

I rolled my eyes and closed the door. I wasn't going to play dress up for him, not anymore. Me being here was going to have to be enough for him. 

Crossing the room, I grabbed the curtains, ready to close them to feel like I had some modicum of privacy, when something caught my eye among the yellowing hydrangeas. It was a man dressed in all black. For a moment my heart sped up in equal parts fear and excitement that it was Matt–but I soon recognized the blonde hair and sharp angular features of Simpson. I frowned watching him take in his surroundings. 

Did Jessica tell him I was here? 

There's no way she would though…she would know that it would put me in danger with Kilgrave. 

Why the hell was Simpson here then? And how did he know where to find Kilgrave? Something uncomfortable stirred in my stomach and I did the only thing I could think of–I slid open the window and slipped out of it, dropping from the second story window with a huff as I tried to roll out of the landing.

Simpson jolted to a stop, spinning on the spot at the sound. When he found me trying to right myself he stared wide eyed.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered harshly.

"What the hell are you doing here? How did you even find Kilgrave?" I shot back.

Simpson’s eyes darted around us in the dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of an outdoor sconce around the corner. He grabbed me by the arm and roughly pulled me further into the backyard and up against some bushes, further hidden from the house. 

"Keep your voice down," he ordered, eyes back on the house behind me as he spoke. "Trish and I were looking into agencies in the area who's services included protection–serious protection. It took a few days but we eventually found these guys. I was scoping them out the past few days and I finally had confirmation that Kilgrave is here. In that house."

"Yeah he…bought it for me," I said awkwardly, glancing over my shoulder at the house. I turned back to Simpson, eyeing his tactical gear seriously. "Does Trish know you're here? Because I'm pretty sure Jessica doesn't. She knew I was coming here to collect intel on Kilgrave. Pretend to go along with his bullshit for a few days."

"Why?" he asked incredulously. 

I rolled my eyes. "To stop him? So we can prove his powers are real? Free Hope?"

Simpson’s jaw ticked at my words, the muscles twitching visibly beneath the skin. 

"Trish doesn't know," he said after a moment. "Neither does Jessica. I was trying to keep you all safe." 

My eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. He was spying on Kilgrave. Alone. And no one knew. Why? 

"You're skulking around his hydrangea bushes at night. Why?" I pressed.

"There's…there's a bomb in the basement," he admitted hesitantly. "I came here to take him down." He spoke in a hurried tone when my mouth opened, cutting me off immediately. "He's dangerous, Olivia. You know that better than most. What he can do–it's not normal. It's not natural . He's a threat and he needs to be neutralized. I came here to do that. You'll never be able to prove his powers in any reliable way that will hold up in a court. You have to know that."

"So you just what?" I snapped at him. "Come here and take it into your own hands? Kill him? You didn't even think to check if there were others in the house you'd be killing?" 

"He's a threat. Sometimes eliminating a threat comes with casualties," he said coolly. "That's how war works."

My jaw dropped at his brazen words. I shook my head at him, roughly jabbing a finger into his chest and noticing how his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched even tighter at the gesture.

"You're out of your mind, Simpson," I growled low. "Go home. Stay away from Kilgrave. Leave him to Jessica and myself if you can't refrain from murder. Because I will not have you killing innocent people on my goddamn watch." 

"You're making the wrong call," he warned me. 

“No, you’re making the wrong call,” I shot back.

He stared hard at me for a long moment, his eyes still narrowed and his body tense. There was a brief moment where I thought I’d have to fight him to leave before his shoulders finally slumped. He nodded slowly, muttering out a ‘fine’ before turning back towards the street.

I watched as he slunk off in the dark, hopefully back to wherever he had come from. Heavily irritated and feeling even more uneasy about Simpson, I made my way around the house and towards the front door, the whole way contemplating if Simpson had intended to kill me with the bomb, too. A sick, paranoid, gnawing thought implanted itself in my mind but I pushed it down for now.

When I reached the front yard, I made my way up the well lit path to the front door. As I went to open the door, I was not even remotely shocked to find it wasn't locked. Kilgrave’s biggest threat was already somewhat willingly living with him at the moment. 

A rustle from the dining room met my ears before Hank was rounding the corner to my left, his gun pointed at my chest. Kilgrave trailed into the room just afterwards, his brows raised in surprise. Slowly, Hank lowered the weapon.

"I thought you were upstairs asleep?" Kilgrave asked. "Been waiting for an hour now for you to appear for dinner."

"You'll have to keep waiting," I said bluntly. "There's a bomb in the basement. Might want to diffuse it first."

#matt murdock x ofc #daredevil x oc #daredevil #matt murdock #jessica jones #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock series