#and he's just out there revealing that despite the mask he wears he is still just a kid who has that innocent belief in being and doing goo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

souliebird · 4 months

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[[and then I met you || ch. 12||

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Words: 5k

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

Even in the middle of the night, the heat of summer in Hell's Kitchen is oppressive. It doesn't help that there is a storm rolling in and it is so humid Matt feels like he's breathing in water. Sweat is pouring off of him and he's glad he opted out of wearing his red armor - he has the feeling he would have overheated within an hour.

The only good thing about it pushing eighty degrees at two am is that only people that have to be out are out. Even though it is Saturday night/ Sunday morning, the streets are empty and Matt has only encountered people on their way back home. He hasn't even needed to scare off any muggers or stop any break ins. In fact, all he has really done all night is track people to make sure they got to their destinations safely.

There was a small surge of people around midnight coming off the trains and they had been rowdy, but hadn't caused any problems. Matt quickly worked out they were part of the protesters who have been crowding outside the courthouse for the past few days and deemed they were not a threat to his beloved city.

He's spoken to a few of them while at the courthouse and he fully supports their cause and their right to protest. Admittedly, Matt is not one to stay on top of current events, but he thinks it is suspicious that the government will not reveal what caused the massive explosion in Connecticut. It's been weeks but instead of answers, it feels like everything about the incident is being shoved under the rug and Matt knows if it was closer to home, Karen would be chomping at the bit to investigate.

Over six hundred people lost their lives and no one is being brought to justice for it. They are saying it was an attack, but no one is claiming ownership or being blamed for the destruction. It makes him angry, and though this isn't his fight, he'll do his part protecting the voices in his community who demand the truth.

Tonight, it seems like his community is safe and Matt will be able to get more than two hours of sleep before he needs to go to Mass. He needs to do a final pass around the neighborhood before he turns in for the night, so he pushes himself up from where he has been crouching like a gargoyle and stretches his limbs. His knees pop and his back screams at him and he decides that despite the heat, he will take a scorching shower to soothe his muscles. He may not have gotten into any big fights the past few nights, but that doesn't matter to his body - it's always aching and throbbing in one way or another.

He pulls his mask down over his face, hating how it instantly makes his forehead sticky and wet, and starts his loop.

He starts at the top of 10th and weaves across and down until he passes Foggy and Marci’s apartment. He pauses across the street and crouches down as he tunes his ears to their bedroom. They are both in a deep sleep and there is no threat he can detect, but still he stays for a minute just to be sure. Daredevil may have complicated his best friend's life, but Foggy has never had trouble making his own enemies. He may not be a vigilante, but his sense of justice is just as strong as Matt's and that has caused people to come at him violently. Someone breaking in is not out of the question.

Marci has her own enemies but if anyone ever tries to come after her, well, Matt will pray for their soul because not even he is that self-destructive. She once made a joke about becoming a crime lord and he still has the occasional nightmare over it.

Matt scans the surrounding buildings for any problems once more before he starts off towards Karen's place. She was still awake when he last passed her building and the odds of her still being up are pretty even. He wouldn't be surprised to find her typing away at some article - stirring up the pot as always. He loves her for that personality trait, even if it mentally puts him through the ringer with worry over her - he supposes it is nothing compared to what he does to her.

But luckily, for the collective sanity of Nelson, Murdock, and Page, more people care about Karen's well-being than care about Matt's.

He knows she has Jessica's number on speed dial - letting them meet is one of his greatest regrets in life. He is well aware of the cameras set up by Frank's computer friend and while the Marine is out of town, he's left her with another layer of protection - his dog Max.

Not that Karen can't take care of herself.

If she and Marci teamed up to take over Manhattan, Matt doesn't know if he could stop them.

Maybe he'll tell her that for her birthday - it will make a better gift than anything he'd be able to think of.

Matt lands on the roof of Karen's building, relieved to find she has gone to sleep since he last checked on her. She must have let the dog get in bed with her, because it's snoring is making it hard for him to tune into her without concentration. She's safe and seemingly happy, so he lingers only a moment before resuming the last dredges of his patrol.

He heads down to the docks next. There are people there, but they are meant to be - prepping for the fish markets and early morning cargo ships. These are good, hard working men who don't dabble in things that would make the Devil hunt them. In fact, he's got a good contact in one of the fish mongers, who will let him know if there's been anything suspicious in the wee hours of the morning. He doesn't need to check in now, as there have been no whispers as of late, and he disappears back into the shadows of the city to head towards Clinton Church.

Matt's stomach turns as he gets closer to where he grew up. His feelings about the location and the people there have been a ridiculous rollercoaster since he found out he was a father.

He deeply misses Father Lantom. Despite what everyone has told him, he firmly blames himself for the man's death and does not understand why God made that choice. It hurts that he isn't here and Matt can barely bring himself to go into the church - he's only started to re-attend Mass since learning about Minnie to seek guidance from God about this new path. He'd give anything to be able to speak to the man who mentored him in life - to hear what he would say about Matt having a daughter.

It isn't that Matt dislikes the new priest - he just doesn't like him. He's resistant to change and it should be Father Lantom giving Communion and taking his Confession.

It should be Father Lantom who Baptizes Minnie, not this man Matt has never even spoken with.

Maggie is trying to get Matt to interact with the man, but his relationship with her is going through a rocky patch and he hasn't actually spoken with her in about two weeks. She hasn't done anything wrong - he is just having an internal crisis over how learning he is a parent changed him and his abandonment issues. He's spent a lot of time in reflection and understands why she left him and his father, but he now has a renewed anger at her for not telling him the truth sooner.

Did she not love him like he loves Minnie? Was it something he did wrong?

Will she love Minnie like she loved Matt? He trusts her to care for his daughter, but will she love her granddaughter the way she deserves to be loved?

Everything is made more complicated over how guilty he is over having these feelings and so, instead of talking to his mother, he's been avoiding her. He knows he needs to eventually address it, but for the moment Maggie is none the wiser about his mini-me.

He'll tell her after he tells you about her.

It is something he needs to do still - it just hasn't come up yet. Most of your conversations center around Minnie and you are still getting to know each other. You've shared few stories about your childhood - mostly about school - and Matt isn't so sure how your anxiety will handle Maggie. His mother is a good person, but she is a lot and he knows you have your own parent issues.

Like at the docks, there are people active at the Church. A few homeless patrons are seeking shelter before the rain and there is a nun tending to their needs. The kids are safely tucked into bed, and while it sounds like a few are having nightmares, there is nothing he can do for them at the moment.

If they wake and cry out, he prays their calls are answered.

Matt practically flees the sacred grounds and his anxiety only settles once he crosses into Chelsea.

As he runs, he hones his senses to the apartment building you live in. It is easy for him to lock onto - he's already spent countless hours perched on the boundaries of the two neighborhoods listening to you and Minnie sleep. He knows it is creepy, but he cannot help himself.

Minnie’s laugh is his new favorite sound, and not far behind it is your heartbeat. Much like his daughter, he's found himself focusing on it when things get too much and it is the perfect way to end patrols - winding down while you and Mouse dream.

You mumble in your sleep and it is the most endearing thing he's ever encountered. He likes to respond to your strange statements, imagining he's right there in bed with you. There has been a recurring theme of parrots and he is thinking that the bird exhibit will be off limits during Minnie’s birthday trip to the zoo, based on what he's heard.

But it isn't you mumbling in your apartment tonight - it's Minnie.

His daughter is awake and has moved from the bedroom to the living room. The television is on - playing what he thinks is Sesame Street - and she seems to be fussing with a toy. Context clues tell him she's playing with a doll or stuffed animal - dress up is one of her favorite games and he knows it is one of her Quiet Games.

“Nexts,” she says sweetly to her toy, “we gotta do your make ups.”

Matt decides to wait until he's landed on the roof before he makes her aware of his presence. He kneels and takes a moment to center himself, taking a deep breath to do so. He focuses on calming the Devil in his chest - this is the first time he's caught Minnie awake in the middle of the night and he needs to address it as Matt and not Daredevil.

He doesn't want to scare her, after all. She'll probably be very confused as to why he's there and being scared won't help anything.

“Minnie, sweetheart, can you hear me?” He asks, keeping his voice soft as possible as he does.

To her credit, she doesn't start at all. It takes her a moment to process, but then she questions, “Daddy?”

The name makes his heart soar - everytime she says it, he breaks into the biggest smile. It is the sweetest sound and the fact she switched to calling him that all on her own means the world to him.

She wants him to be her Daddy.

“Yeah, sweetheart, it's me. What are you doing awake?” he questions, smiling as he hears her get up and start to walk around. He wonders if she is looking for him and his guess is confirmed when he hears her start lifting things up to look under them.

“I'm watching Cookie Monsters,” she replies and Matt chuckles. He thinks it is so adorable she is also so direct with her answers. She always answers exactly what is asked.

“I don't think it is time for Cookie Monster, Mouse. I think it's sleep time. Mommy is sleeping.”

You are in a deep sleep, your breathing slow and even. He can tell you've been exhausted lately and probably need the sleep. More than once he's found you awake during his patrols. If Minnie tried to wake you up, you probably weren't responsive and she had left you to sleep.

She peters her way back to in front of the television and plops back down after checking under the dining table. Matt waits for her to respond, knowing sometimes it takes her time to form what she wants to say.

“I can't sleep,” she mumbles, upset clear in her voice, “there's a monster.”

The Devil flares up inside of him and he instantly scans the area for a threat. There are few people awake in the area and he focuses in on them - none of them appear to be any sort of danger to his daughter. At the moment.

But they could have been earlier. They could have woken her up by doing something horrible. A mugging. Domestic violence. Something worse.

He curls his lip into a snarl.

He'll find whoever upset his daughter and drive them from his city. The state.

It's a miracle he manages to keep his voice calm and gentle, “A monster?”

“A monster,” she confirms sadly. Her breathing becomes muffled and Matt figures she has shoved her hand into her mouth to self-comfort.

“Can you tell Daddy about the monster?”

She sucks on her fingers and with her free hand, pulls her toy into her lap. He wants to push her to tell him, but he knows he can't. She's not a witness or a suspect - she's his daughter trying her best. He can tell she wants to answer, he just needs to be patient.

“He ran really fast,” Minnie starts to say, barely taking her hand out of her mouth to do so, “and went eek-eek-eek and smelled like poopy-butt.”

The words baffle him and Matt knits his brows - this monster was close enough for Minnie to smell him? The monster in his chest snarls and he has to fight to keep his composure. He knows Minnie is locked onto him and if he lets his rage show, she will know and she will get scared.

He needs to protect his daughter. He needs to believe God will not test him in this.

“Minnie, sweetie, can you tell Daddy where the monster is?”

Her little head turns up to face exactly where he is standing, asking in a small voice, “are you gonna fight him?”

The Devil roars ‘yes’, but the Father in him says, “Do you want me to?”

“Mommy scares him away,” she advises hesitantly. He can practically feel the nerves radiating off of her and it makes him clench his fist.

Matt doesn't understand. This has happened before?

Then it beams him in the head like a baseball and Matt feels like a complete idiot.

Minnie is a toddler. Her monsters are shadows, creaky pipes, and the four legged creatures in the city. Those are things that no longer register on Matt's radar but she hasn't learned to tune them out yet. Of course she would be scared of those things - Matt was scared of those things when he first got his senses and he was much older than Minnie at the time.

He remembers his first phone call with you and how it ended - something about Monster Repellent.

“I can go scare off the monster - would you like that?” he asks, the Devil in him settling down now that he knows no one is trying to hurt his little girl.

He doesn't know if it's Minnie sensing his shift in mood or if she didn't want him to fight the monster and scaring it away is what she wants, but she untenses her shoulders and her hand comes out of her mouth.

“You'll scare him away?” She asks after hugging her toy right to her chest.

“I'll scare him away,” he quickly promises.

“He smells like poopy-butt,” she repeats and Matt wonders if she is making a stinky face. That is something you tell him he and Minnie share - a certain curl of their lips when they find something unappealing.

“That's okay, sweetie, I'll make him go smell bad somewhere else. He won't bother you,” he says. “Can you tell me where he went and I'll go chase him away.”

Finally, she points down towards the alleyway between her building and the neighboring one and adds, “He can climb walls. Like Spidey-Man.”

Matt resists the urge to huff over the mention of the other vigilante. He has met the kid twice before and his biggest take, besides it was a kid under the mask and that had been its own thing, was that he needed to learn how to throw a proper punch. It confirmed for him all that Avengers training and showboating really meant nothing and they really were better off fighting aliens and wizards than helping out real people.

“Don't worry, Mouse, I can climb the walls, too.” He's definitely letting his Pride show through, but if he can't show off for his daughter, who can he show off for?

He makes a quick map in his head, then goes to the edge of the roof. Minnie’s head is still angled up towards him and she ‘watches’ as he parkours down to street level. If he adds a few unnecessary flips, well, that is no one's business but his own.

Once he is on the pavement, he opens his senses to the things he normally blocks out. The city becomes far more lively around him - cats, raccoons, birds, dogs, all sorts of bugs and things he doesn't like to think about. There's yowling and chirps and suddenly so much more movement, most of it under his feet.

Mouse’s monster is easy to find. It is a disgustingly large rat that has built a nest of trash and grime under a dumpster. The thing has a respiratory infection, which has it wheezing and rattling and he very much understands why Minnie was scared of it. It is not a pleasant sound and the infection is not at all helping how the creature smells. Animals smell at the best of times, but this rat clearly enjoys the sewers and ‘poopy-butt’ doesn't begin to cover how rancid it is.

Matt starts to work out what he needs to do to make sure this sick rodent stays far away from his family. If it has a nest, it will come back, so he needs to destroy that - without damaging the animal. He doesn't have the heart to actually hurt the thing.

He pulls out his billy clubs and snaps them together to make a bo staff, then moves to crouch in front of the dumpster. “Okay, sir, I'm here to evict you,” he says, more for Minnie’s benefit than anything. “You gotta go.”

He jabs at the nest of wet cardboard and almost immediately, the rat scurries out and hisses at him. It snaps its jaws at him a few times instead of running away and Matt huffs at the display, turning his staff towards the creature and swatting at it. “Get out of here.” To its credit, it tries to fight him, biting at his billy clubs and screeching at him, but after a few good thwacks to its side, it realizes it has no chance against him and dashes toward a nearby grate.

He listens to it go down into some pipes and once it's out of range, he tilts his head up towards Minnie, a smile starting to form in his lips, “The monster has been vanquished, my princess.”

His words make her giggle and he can't help but chuckle as well. He hears her push up into standing and she toddles towards the window. There's a table in front of it, so he knows she can't see out of it, but he knows she's trying to find him.

“He's not gonna come back?” She questions and in response he starts to break up the nest. He spreads the trash around, knocking things down and away. It's not a big very big rat den, relying heavily on the dumpster.

“He's not, he's gonna go find a new home,” he promises as he works, and once he's satisfied with his destruction, he collapses his billy clubs and holsters them. He pushes up into standing and steps away from the trash can.

“Far away?” Minnie asks and his heart breaks for her. The stupid animal must have terrified her.

“Very, very far away.”

He locates the fire escape and starts to scale it back up to your apartment floor. As he does, he starts closing off his senses again. Things begin to fade into the background - the things he will need to start teaching Minnie. She's got a good handle on it already, having learned to function with it instead of needing to adapt.

He's so proud. So unbelievably proud.

She's such a good and pure child. She always wants to help and asks about other people. She may be shy, but she's empathetic.

You've taught her well.

Matt understands how Minnie is a mini-him in her abilities and mannerisms due to those abilities, but her sweet nature is from you.

He knows he's gone for you.

Foggy has pointed it out. Karen has pointed it out. God has smacked him in the face with signs.

His realization moment was hearing a man purchasing an engagement ring for a woman who shared your name. He had gotten so furiously jealous he had to go take it out on the punching bag.

Foggy laughed so hard at him.

He doesn't think you noticed at all. It is nothing against you, he completely understands. You are like him - you don't think you deserve love. You had been painfully shy your first night together, as well, and he had been charmed by it.

He's angry at himself for letting you be a one night stand.

He should have been there when you needed him most.

He's not going to fuck that up again.

He pulls off his mask before making a show off popping up in front of your window and Minnie dissolves into giggles.

“Hi, Daddy!” She waves at him and he can tell she is absolutely beaming. He eagerly waves back and he knows he's matching her smile.

“Hi, Mouse.”

“Why are you outside?”

He's planned for this. He has discussed this with Foggy and Karen at length. He did the unthinkable - he asked Frank - who apparently knew who Minnie was before either Foggy or Karen did. They had attacked the question from all sides. As the firm. As friends. As parents.

They couldn't lie to Minnie. Matt can see the signs she's picking up on what different heart beats mean. She's going to know and there's nothing they can do to hide it. She can hear all of Hell’s Kitchen just as well as he can. It may not happen until she's older, but she'll figure it out.

So, he's not going to lie to her. He thinks you would approve. You don't like lying to her - you soften the truth into something she can comprehend. He's going to follow your lead.

“I'm working,” Matt answers, crouching on the rails and resting his wrists on his knees. He's suddenly very glad he had a very boring night. “What are you doing inside?”

Mouse accepts the answer and hugs her toy to her chest, swaying side to side “I'm talking to you.”

He laughs at her utter sweetness. She giggles along with him.

He gives a fond shake of his lead, then leans forward so she can see him a bit better, “What should you be doing, sweetheart?”

She scrunches up her face as she thinks, then she falls into a pout, “Sleeping.”

“Yeah, you should be sleeping. You're going to be tired tomorrow. It's not going to be fun,” he gently warns. He knows it isn't her fault, but he knows it will eventually help her learn to push those noises to the background.

“Okay, I'll go bed. I gotta clean up first. Mommy says …Mommy says don't leave it until morning. You'll make morning you sad. Be nice to morning you,” she recites, patting her hands against her stuffed animal - it's not Scooby or Pig. (He doesn't know this one. His best guess is it's a Raggedy-Anne type princess doll. His little girl loves princesses - no specific one, just the concept and aesthetic.)

He loves the values you are instilling in her. He's going to steal this mantra and tell it to Foggy and Karen.

“Okay. I'll keep watch for any monsters,” he tells her. This is one of the reasons he wants her to know the truth. He wants her to know her Daddy will protect her from all of the monsters.

“Okay. Thank you. Love you!” She chants, then turns away.

“I love you, too, Mouse. So much.”

And he will tell her every chance he gets.

She carefully walks back to where she had been sitting and turns off the television, then goes to put her toys away. Like always, she's very methodical about what she does. He could spend hours watching her play. She fascinates him. She picks up one toy at a time and tells it good night as she puts it back into her toy chest.

She doesn't have much to clean up and when she finishes, she turns to face him.

“Will you tuck me in? Please? Thank you?” Minnie asks like he can say no.

“Of course, my love. Are you all ready for bed?” He questions as he hops down onto the fire escape - one of the screws holding it together shakes and he decides he'll come back another night with a wrench to tighten everything up.

“All ready!” she confirms and he can tell she's watching him with great curiosity.

He begins to run his fingers over the edges of the window, searching for a way in. You certainly don't make it easy - you invested in apartment security and it takes him a moment to disable it. He's careful as he slides the window up and pops out the screen. He slips into the apartment, then quickly closes the window behind him, leaving the screen on the floor.

Minnie has the decency to wait until that moment to run to him with open arms. Matt scoops her up, swinging her a little before putting her on his hip and once she is settled, he leans down to press his forehead to hers.

“We have to be quiet, okay? We can't wake up, Mommy,” he tells her and she quickly nods in understanding.

He doesn't know what he'll do if you wake up and find him in your home - but luckily you are still in a deep sleep. As long as Minnie keeps calm, you should stay lost in Dreamland.

He kisses her forehead then starts towards the bedroom. She returns the affection, planting a big kiss on his cheek before she gently smacks him in the face with her doll with a quiet, “mwah!” Then, she flops against his shoulder, using him as a pillow.

He has to fight back a pleased huff - his little angel is so sweet. He'll never get sick of getting kisses from her toys - it's so loving and innocent and he is greedy for any and all affection.

Your bedroom is a good twenty degrees cooler than the rest of the apartment - there's a fan going and accompanying it is a little window unit blowing in cold air. It feels like Heaven in the blistering heat that is the rest of the city. The chill seems to suck the consciousness from Mouse - she gives a big dramatic yawn, smacking her lips against his neck. Her body slumps into him and he rubs her back encouragingly.

He crosses the room carefully, hyper aware of any toys that may have found their way to the floor post-bedtime. It absolutely breaks his heart to have to pull her away from him and she does try to stay clinging to him - not fighting him just resistant - but she ends up in her bed and under her covers. He doesn't know if he would have had the strength to force her to let go if she really did want to stay in his arms.

He helps her adjust her sleeping headband so it is around her eyes and ears, then kisses her cheek one final time, “ready for sleep?”

The response is a barely there nod and Matt can't help but feel so much love for his daughter. Being able to conk right out as soon as she's comfortable shows how much she trusts him. His little girl is always so wary and subtly alert.

He's going to cherish this moment forever.

“Love you, Mouse.” He whispers.

“Luvo, Daffy,” is what it sounds like she says as she rolls to bury her face into her pillow. A moment later she is snoring.

Matt allows a few tears to fall before wiping them away and turning his attention to you. You have nested yourself under your blankets, breath hitching every so often. He's learned over time from various people this usually means bad dreams - not nightmares but things that can leave you shaken.

He doesn't dare move closer to try to soothe you with touch - that would certainly wake you up.

Instead, he promises, “I'll chase all your monsters away, too.”

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@petrovafire39 @allllium

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @ astridstark13

@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #and then i met you

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slashersidewhore · 1 year

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Slashers! S/O seeing them maskless for the first time

Slashers x gn!reader

Including Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair,

Requested: yes

Warnings: mentions of killing, beefy murder boyfriends, sprinkle of angst, that cute shit

Michael Myers

I think seeing him without a mask would take awhile, he’s not one to reveal much about himself

It would probably just be out of the blue as well

You’d be chilling on the couch, reading or going on your phone or something

Although you never really heard him approach you’d feel his… presence

Glancing up and caught off guard by the fact you’re looking at skin, not an emotionless face of blank white

Probably drop whatever you’re holding from the shock of it

Michael has a large scar across his eye, (and depending on which timeline this is in, maybe also burns)

I see him as someone who isn’t self conscious of looks, despite the mask wearing

The mask is a representation to how he feels in a way, blank, I mean we all know he’s not unattractive by any scale

He wouldn’t say anything either, just stand there staring at you waiting

If this OG Myers, your silence is irksome

If this is RZ Myers, your silence is indicating he’s made the wrong move

Either way both versions are somewhat comforted when you slide off the cushions to make your way over

Warm palms gently caress the sides of his face

Don’t think he’s gonna close his eyes and lean into your hand all cutesy though, no way

He’s just staring, expressionless, into your eyes

Maybe he serves a classic head tilt

Kinda like silently asking, “what do you think”

Of course you’d just smile and lean in for a kiss

It’s slightly one sided but that’s okay, you love your brick wall

Jason Voorhees

Honestly, it was probably an accident

Like he gets some kind of injury, or something similar in the facial region

So naturally when he’s finished with his… “work”, he goes to fix it up

And in order to do that, he removes his safeguard

Jason knows he was seen differently as a kid because of his deformity, the mask is his safety net, a way to look at his reflection without becoming sick

So when it’s perched on the bathroom counter top, and you come waltzing in, let’s just say he imagined this differently

Never wanted to see you without the hockey mask

Even to kiss, he would just place the plastic to your skin

But now it’s just…

It’s really awkward

I’m not even gonna lie

Y’all just standing there, eyes wide staring at one another, you could hear a pin drop

He lunges for the mask but is stopped by a hand clutching his own

You probably didn’t even mean to do it, your body just reacted naturally

Now Jason can’t meet your eyes, he’s staring at the ground in shame

Not wanting to push any boundaries and touch his face, you just tug on the hand in your grasp

Slowly but surely, he meets your eyes

He looks, very comfortable, like lord take me now level uncomfortable

He expects disgust in your eyes, and is caught off guard by the stars twinkling in them

His entire body relaxes

He shoulders drop, his hand clasps with yours finally

And the two of you continue to gaze at one another

Although this time, instead of it being awkward, it’s love

Thomas Hewitt

I’d imagine if Tommy trusts you, at some point he’d let you take it off

It would probably be after a long day, everyone is tired

Especially Thomas

He’d been working in the Texas heat for hours, and no matter how tough this man is, we all need a break eventually

You’re sat in your shared bedroom, on the bed, something keeping you occupied

In strolls the man himself

He’s clearly exhausted, even showered still smelling of the usual sweaty musk

Taking a seat on the mattress beside you, his hair is partially over his face as he angles it to you

The silence is peaceful, even with his usual heavy breathing

Your hands gently caress his leather covered cheeks, leaning in to press a kiss to the bare skin of his forehead

As you go to pull away, ready to turn in for sleep, a much larger hand lands on one of your own

Big, wide, and a dark blue eyes watch your expression shift as his hand guides yours to the straps at the back of his mask

Now, Tommy didn’t sleep with his mask on

That’s a safety hazard

But, he only ever took it off once it was dark in the room, and always put it on before you woke up

The current apprehension in his eyes was melting away as you gradually began to smile

And Tommy just loved seeing you smile

Unbuckling the tough straps, you were quick to lay the now unnecessary item somewhere beside the two of you

Hoyt must be one dumb son of a bitch if he’s calling the face before you ugly

He has no nose, more than a few scars you’ve heard about before scattered across his delicate skin

You can practically hear his heart beating out of his chest

In attempts to quell them, you grin, pressing a soft kiss to his chapped lips

Although this only makes it beat faster

Vincent Sinclair

Bo’s fault

Like 99.99%

Vincent isn’t shy, he’s just reserved, let’s be clear

But that doesn’t mean he feels completely confident in himself, especially when it comes to you

So imagine one day you’re just trying to find Vincent

And instead of silence you’re beginning to hear shouting, specifically Bo’s shouting, echoing down the hall

Then a sharp clank of something breaking

This only quickened your pace until you were standing in the kitchen as well

Vincent was kneeling over his once whole mask, now split down the middle

“Bo can you give us a minute”

You didn’t bother to pull your eyes from the man on the floor, placing a soft hand on his back as you heard footsteps leave the rom

Long, dark hair covered his features, body slouched in a way that couldn’t be comfortable

He never wanted you to see him like this

He knew he wasn’t blessed with visual beauty

He just didn’t want you to inevitability leave when you discovered what he always hid away

But your hand was firm on his back, careful yet making sure you he knew you were there

“Vincent, do you want me to leave?”

Honestly yes

He probably does want you to leave

Get this over with and let him realize he’s alone again

But for some reason he slowly shakes his head no

The palm on his back moves past his hair, cradling his disfigured jaw

You don’t jump from the odd texture of the scarring, nor the bumps and ridges

It anchors him enough to face you, prepared for anything

Although he wasn’t prepared for the little smile on your face

Or the way you shuffled closer so you could place a gentle, chaste kiss to his scarring

Requests are open!

#thomas hewitt #vincent sinclair #jason voorhees #michael myers #slasher #thomas hewitt x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #slashers x reader insert #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slashers fanfic #slashers fanfiction #slashers headcanons

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dewdropdinosaur · 2 months

Text

Only For You

ALASTOR X READER

Summary: You are beautiful there is no doubt about that. But Alastor would prefer that you kept that beauty only for him

Warnings: NONE. Just sassy narrator as always(I will applaud anyone who figures out who the snarky narrator is of my stories)

This was a request for the lovely @anon-of-the-void. Enjoy darling!

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN. See pinned post for rules.

In the heart of Hell, where the shadows danced to the tunes of torment, there resided a figure unlike any other – Alastor, the Radio Demon. He ruled over the airwaves of the infernal realm with his charismatic voice and sinister charm, a being of darkness wrapped in the allure of the old radio era. Having a penchant for old-fashioned charm and a twisted sense of humor, he found himself entangled in an unexpected romance with a fellow sinner….you. There was a peculiar softness within Alastor, a hidden warmth that few dared to perceive save yourself. It was in the tender glances he shared with his beloved, the unspoken acts of service he provided and yes…even his certain shall we say—possessive nature.

You were Alastor's almost in every way opposite. Which made it hard for many of the Hotel’s residents to understand how you even got together in the first place or even got along(That dear reader is a story for another time)

You exude confidence and have no qualms about your appearance. Proud of your demonic allure, you revel in showcasing curves and radiant skin. Yet, all of this sexual tension that is exuded was for none other than the Radio Demon himself, and for your own sense of amusement of course. Flaunting oneself for all of Hell only to be uninterested and leaving both men and women alike all hot and bothered was particularly entertaining one could speculate.

Alastor, however, was not as open-hearted about such boldness from you. His possessive nature stirred within him, a jealousy that simmered beneath his charismatic facade. Oh how the screams of many who had dared look at his darling for a second too long made a horrific melody over his radio tower…You had long since tried to stop him for it was pretty much a futile effort at this point. Despite being the only one privy to what lied beneath your revealing clothing, the red demon still felt the swells of envy within him. He craved attention and that your beautiful soul only be turned in his direction and for him only. When you in the nude simply invited Alastor in the bathroom while showering for a chat. Poker was a common pastime while doing your makeup, to which he would often let you win, or listening to LPs while you both danced around half dressed.

One fateful evening, as the shadows draped the corridors of Hell, Alastor and you found yourselves amidst a gathering of the Hotel residents and staff. Your laughter rang through the air, form draped in silken garments that accentuated every curve, every line of demonic beauty. Wearing an outfit that highlighted everything, your fiery eyes sparkled with mischief. Alastor couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and possessiveness, his snarky smile masking the growing jealousy within him. He watched from afar, his ruby eyes ablaze with a mixture of desire and resentment. As the eyes of Hell lingered upon you(mainly Angel and Sir Pentious, the latter unable to help himself, poor gentleman), a surge of possessiveness consumed him. With a snarl disguised as a smirk, he approached your side, wrapping his coat around your shoulders; his voice dripping with honeyed venom.

“Here my dear, you must be cold.” Leaning down to whisper in your ear, he spoke so only she could hear “Darling, must you parade around like a succubus on display?" Alastor quipped, trying to hide his true feelings behind his charismatic persona.

You chuckled, a demonic laugh echoing through the chaotic streets. "Oh, Alastor, dear, why hide what I have? It's a crime to keep such beauty under wraps." Turning to face him, laughter dancing in your eyes. “Must you always be so possessive?” You teased with a voice so close to a melody that stirred the depths of his being.

Alastor's snarky smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of insecurity. "I just prefer to keep you all to myself, my dear. No need to share your radiance with the whole underworld."

However, not one to be controlled and quite liking to rile up your partner, you sauntered away from Alastor. With a mischievous glint, after taking off his coat and handing it back to him, you teasingly exposed more of your demonic allure. The other demons ogled in admiration(except Husk who knew better than to get between his so-called boss and his partner….also a story for another time), and Alastor's jealousy reached its peak.

Alastor's smile faltered, his grip reaching out towards your form and tightening around your waist. "In a realm where darkness reigns supreme, one must guard what is precious," he replied, his words dripping with thinly-veiled jealousy. Little green lights flickered around the hotel as the shadows smirked and moaned, yet you stood there unafraid.

Determined to claim your attention for himself, Alastor conjured a stylish black coat from thin air and draped it over your bare shoulders. "There, my love, let's keep a bit of your mystery, shall we?"

Laughing heartily and not bothered by the sudden cover-up, you relented. "If it makes you happy, Alastor, I'll indulge your possessiveness." Walking your fingers up Alastor’s chest to adjust and fix his bow tie, you flashed a soft and genuine smile up at your partner.

"My dear Radio Demon," you whispered, breath warm against his ear, "there is no need for jealousy. My heart belongs to you and you alone."

With those words, Alastor's doubts faded into the abyss, replaced by the warmth of the embrace. In the depths of Hell, amidst the chaos and the shadows, love had found its way into the hearts of demons, a flickering flame in the darkness that refused to be extinguished.

“And besides my love, you know I never much cared for that kind of attention from anyone but you anyway.”

As you and Alastor continued your stroll through the Hotel while mingling with guests, Alastor clung to your side; content that he had, at least momentarily, subdued his jealousy. Little did he realize that love in Hell was as unpredictable as the flames that flickered throughout the underworld, and the dynamic between the snarky Radio Demon and his confident partner would continue to evolve in the fiery depths of their unconventional romance.

#romance #hazbin hotel requests #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor imagine #the radio demon #alastor the radio demon #request #requests open #answered #asexual #ace pride #sassy narrator #hazbin hotel fandom

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rosehxnt · 4 months

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bonjour >:) requests are open, and thus i am requesting leona, vil (aster is converting me how dare) and idia (again, i am being converted) with a s/o who drags them out to buy matching outfits and accidentally revealing their secret relationship?

it’s just an outfit

ft. leona kingscholar, vil schoenheit, idia shroud summary: even with the attempt to hide their identity, your boyfriend is noticed in public shopping with you warnings: invasion of privacy via paparazzi, use of they/them pronouns for reader (idia)

leona kingscholar He seemed so nonchalant about it, only opting to wear a hat and insisting no one would care what a second-born prince was doing buying matching outfits with another person. He seemed to be correct on that matter until five minutes after you got back to his dorm to lay down. After changing into your couple’s black and yellow loungewear, messages began to flood your phone from your friends. Links to dozens of articles claiming to have the scoop on Leona Kingscholar's new relationship. "‘Sunset Savanna Royalty Seen Shopping with Mystery Person. Could This Be a Budding New Romance?’” Leona read one of the titles over your shoulder, throwing in sarcastically shocked tone. You glared at him as you turned to face him before your face fell in worry. "What if this…changes things between us? Since everyone practically knows now." "I don’t think this changes anything between us. Not to me, anyway. We just don't have to sneak around anymore." He paused to rest a hand on your cheek. "You’re still okay being mine, right?" You nodded. "Of course I am." "That’s all that matters to me, love." Leona threw his arm over your shoulders to bring you closer to his chest, not missing the chance to leave a kiss on your forehead before continuing your impromptu nap.

vil schoenheit It was his idea to both wear masks to reduce the possibility of being recognized. He was even smart enough to style his hair differently than usual. Needless to say, Vil had a lot of experience trying to avoid paparazzi as one of the most famous teenagers in twisted wonderland. You had insisted on going out and getting matching outfits despite your relationship not being public yet, he agreed but not without a warning of how overwhelming it could become if someone recognized him in public. "It's no big deal, I can handle it," you told him. "As long as you're confident, my dear." The trip was going fairly well, you had picked out matching peacoats that would help keep you warm in the cold temperatures. It was when you were looking at sweaters that a fan of his recognized him and noticed your close proximity to each other. Before you knew it, pictures were being taken as Vil took your hand to lead you away, tsking at the misplaced enthusiasm the public had for him. Once you were sure you were alone he turned to hold you. "I apologize for the scene, I hope it wasn't too much for you." "I'm sorry for dragging you out here." You glanced the ground. "People will probably start harassing you about being in a relationship now." "I knew the risks before entering a relationship with you." He tilted your head up to look at you properly. "I don't mind at all, because now I'm able to be open about the fondness I hold for you."

idia shroud It’s not like you were actively keeping your relationship a secret, it just hadn’t come up in conversation yet. Most of the time you and Idia spent together was either on voice call or playing games in his room. You had asked him a few times if he’d be willing to go with you to get matching outfits. It never mattered what it was, just as long as you matched with him. One weekend he finally found the courage to go to the mall with you, as long as he could keep his hood up and face down the entire time. You were almost jumping with joy at the prospect of getting your introvert boyfriend to do something he would've never done before meeting you. Yes he had stipulations, but you were just glad to have this bonding opportunity with him. Idia quickly steered you towards the back section of a store that he claimed had "everything an otaku would ever want." You passed walls of shirts for every anime, video game, and vocaloid you'd ever heard of, and then some. That's exactly when he spotted two students he shared occasional classes with. Said students noticed him back, saw how he looked at you with panic, and quickly connected the dots. "Well if they're standing that close to Idia Shroud..." "Exactly what I was thinking, they've got to be special to him for that kind of privilege." You didn't get to hear the rest of the conversation as Idia dragged you out of said "otaku heaven," mumbling something about finding merch online instead.

a/n: sorry that leona's is a bit shorter, i tried to mix up each scenario the best i could m.list & rules

#ediewrite #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst x reader #leona kingscholar imagines #leona kingsholar x reader #leona kingscholar #vil schoenheit imagines #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud imagines #idia shroud x reader

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lightofthemoonglow · 7 months

Text

kinktober day seven and eight

Virginity | Waxplay | Stuck in Wall

Breeding | Gore | Master & Slave

third person reader because that is how it turned out oops

Sequel here

Thomas Hewitt

The day had finally come.

The wedding dress is older than the bride. The bride is considered an adult in every part of the world, in basically every sense. And yet she still wears a dress that Luda Mae had brought for herself a long time ago, back when she had hopes for a whole other life that had never come to pass. It’s obvious why she’s doing this, but it’s harmless in comparison to everything else about the situation.

One interaction had been all it had taken for this deal to be worked out. The bride had come from a family of carnival workers that had passed through Travis County that had decided to stick around, her mother becoming friendly with Luda Mae despite the two of them living seemingly very different lives. All the girl had done was shyly ask Tommy about his job at the slaughterhouse as she offered him a bowl of the chili she had brought over. This was some good meat. I bet you had something to do with it. And Luda Mae had noticed the shift in her son’s body language, how he wasn’t as on guard as he normally was for a moment.

It had started as joke between the two mothers. And then they had started seriously discussing it. It made sense. The pool of candidates was already small and neither of their children were exactly…popular. The bride had struggled to finish school after fighting tooth and nail to get in. Thomas had dropped out. Their families were already close. And then, the tornado happened, killing the bride’s father. It was as good a time as any, they had figured. The town was dying slowly, the writing was on the wall. They needed to make it happen before the bride left town for good.

And so, they had wound up in the backyard of the house, the town preacher pronouncing the young couple man and wife, on edge due to the gun that Charlie had aimed at him, ready to pull the trigger if this marriage wound up not being true in the eyes of the lord. While he didn’t believe in that shit, Luda Mae did and his sister’s word was law in their home. The bride was a vision in antique white, her voice trembling as she said ‘I do’. Thomas only grunted in response, Charlie snapping ‘the boy damn well does!’ when the preacher tried to get the larger man to speak.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Luda Mae says to the bride after the cake has been cut and everyone is milling about the yard, the preacher nowhere to be seen. He would never be seen again, but no one would notice or care. “You always had a kind word for my boy.”

And for the first time since her hesitantly uttered vows, the bride speaks. “Of course. He’s a good boy. This was all just a little fast, Mrs. Luda Mae.” But that was intentional, something she would realize later. The mother of the bride had all but dragged her down the aisle. The woman had cried, wailed as she told her daughter that she need to do this, so she could be taken care of, implying that it wouldn’t be long until the bride’s parents were reunited.

After the party, the happy couple was led upstairs, where they were to stay all night. “I want a grandbaby by next spring,” Luda Mae instructed. It wasn’t the wistful dreaming of a woman who yearned to more little ones to spoil. Well, it was, but her tone was that of an order. They were going to grow the family, one way or another.

The room was dim, the sun peeking through the curtains. Thomas makes no move to take off his mask, choosing to just stare at his new wife as she walked towards the bed. The dress is pulled off, revealing a white slip covering her everyday undergarments. She folds it up, so it can be put away in the morning. Maybe it will even be used again one day. The sun shines down on her as she lays on the bed, waiting for him to join her.

“It’s alright. If you…want to.” She speaks softly, not approach him too closely. “I know your mama said that we have to, but I can wait.” Thomas is staring at her, watching her legs twitch slightly, fascinated by the dark peaks on her chest. Her breathing is steady, she’s not looking for an escape. Her eyes are meeting his whenever he allows it. Thomas knows what to do. He’s seen farm animals do it and Charlie had shown him a movie once, short and filthy. Luda Mae had found out about it and been cross for weeks.

The real thing is different. Thomas feels almost cornered as he tentatively touches the hem of the slip. His fingers graze her bare skin and he flinches, which makes her sit up and grab his hand.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” she coos, stroking his hand with her thumb. “Tommy…I know neither of us exactly wanted this to happen. But if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it was you. I’ve always liked you.” His face didn’t matter to her, she didn’t care that he had to hide what had been eaten away by the sickness inside of him. He wasn’t going to kiss her, he couldn’t get to that point. Not yet.

They needed to do what was expected of them first.

It takes a while, the sun is almost gone when Thomas is finally ready to get on top of her, still mostly dress, only his nice trousers unzipped. She’s naked, comfortable with allowing him to see, to explore. Her body is warm, soft, and he’s so hard it hurts until he pulls it out of his trousers. But he doesn’t put it in, not yet. He can’t quite manage that last little bit of movement, not yet.

“It could happen, Tommy. Us havin’ a baby because of tonight.” She strokes his arm, not touching his face, not until he’s ready. And maybe that won’t be tonight. “I like the idea. Go on and feel how much, darlin’.” She spreads her legs slightly to let him know he could touch her. His prodding fingers found something warm and wet, and when he pushes, a finger slips inside. “It’s good when it’s wet like that. Means I’m excited. Like you are now.”

Another fingers joins the first and she gasps, but she doesn’t stop him. “We could make a baby tonight. You and me…” The images start coming to Thomas as he fingers explore her. His wife’s belly swollen with their child, her tits full of milk, everyone knowing that she belonged to him and only him-

He’s inside of her before he can stop himself. She gasps, grabbing onto his shoulders as his cock fills her up. Her breasts bounce as he thrusts, slow and experimental at first. “Good boy, good boy,” she whispers, her body suddenly filles with sensations she’s never felt before. Thomas is equally overwhelmed, she’s so warm and wet and good and hot and everything he’s ever wanted. She’s gripping onto him tightly, he’s in awe of the sight of himself inside of her.

Thick fingers stuff his seed back inside of her after he’s done, and he prays for the first time in years that it worked.

#thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #slasher x reader #kinktober 2023 #holy shit this one got away from me

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nonexistent-introvert · 11 months

Text

Anomaly

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

Word Count: 2k

Content: angst, idrk what’s gg on either, fights, you’re a Spider-Man too

A/N: post ATSV dump, I fell into the black hole known as Miguel O’Hara, I just needed to write this so it’s probably a mess 😵‍💫 I’m also posting this on my phone so- grammarly isn’t here to save me

Miguel stared at the footage of the new spiderman on his various screens. An headache making him all the more annoyed. There was barely any information on this person, the only thing he knew about them was the fact that they were an anomaly. Someone who wasn’t supposed to become a spiderman.

“Miguel! We brought them in.” Jess called out to him. Miguel turned his head, his eyes stared at the spiderman that has been causing him an headache for the past week as his platform descended.

The sound of machinery filled the place. There was an palpable tension in the air but what he didn’t expect was the sound of webs. His spidey senses tingled but it was already too late as you had swung yourself onto the platform. Gasps erupted from below, no one has ever dared to do that. “What do you think you’re doing?” Miguel spoke, authority in his voice. Mildly taken aback that you were able to act faster than his spidey senses could alert him. “You really should do something better with this.” You gestured to the platform that the both of you were standing on that was still in the process of descending. Your eyes scanned the screens before you, “If this is your dimension, technology is definitely much more advanced than… this.” You pointed out, mentioning the futuristic dimension the headquarters was located at. The rate of the machinery descending was too slow for anyone’s liking.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyance and anger filling him. “Just- who exactly are you?” He seethed. “Shouldn’t you know that? Judging by all this.” Your fingers danced across the screens with no care in the world, watching the various footages of you. Miguel slapped your hands away from the screens, “Take your mask off.” He raised his voice, a bunch of the spiderman shuddered in fear. You simply laughed, leaning back. “You haven’t even introduced yourself.” Miguel’s blood was boiling by now, “I’m Miguel O’Hara” Lyla was on one of the screens, watching the interaction with an amused look. It has been decades since anyone eveen dared challenge the stoic and unfunny spiderman.

“Wasn’t so hard was it?” You grinned, introducing your name to him. He froze at your name, quickly recovering his composure, there were plenty of people out there with the same name.

You pulled out a headpiece and Miguel watched as the nanotech retract to reveal a familiar face. A charming smile on your face while he just stared in disbelief.

“Everyone, out.” He ordered. Despite a few protests, everyone left. “Oh, am I that special?” You teased, waving to the spidermen who were leaving. Miguel couldn’t help but stare, you weren’t suppose to be here, he wasn’t supposed to see you ever again. However, you seem totally oblivious to his inner turmoil.

When you looked at him again, the playful look in your eye faltered. You pursed your lips, staring at the platform you were standing on. “Are you really-” Miguel started, his eyes softening.

“In the flesh. You got quite the set up here.” You remarked. Miguel shook his head, turning away from you. “I caused this. I dragged you into this mess.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I figured this out on my own.” You gestured to the suit you were wearing. “Because I saved you! Because I couldn’t bring myself to let you die. It is the whole reason you’re standing here as an anomaly!” Miguel shouted, he shouldn’t have interfered. He was supposed to minimise contact with anyone from other dimensions, he let himself get too close to you.

==================================

Every thought in Miguel’s head screamed at him to stop returning to you. He was supposed to be in his office at the headquarters, making sure that the multiverse is stable. However, he kept finding excuses after excuses to return to your dimension. To see you again, to laugh and talk to you.

“Oh you’re back.” You greeted upon returning to your home, putting your work bag down. Miguel smiled at you, “Missed you.” He admitted with a soft smile as he let you fall into his arms. You knew Miguel was lying to you, lying to you that he was a scientist at Alchemax. Even if it was once his job, you knew it wasn’t anymore. The long and sudden disappearances, he was practically a ghost and a figment of your imagination. While you lied in his embrace and listened to his voice, you couldn’t bring yourself to question him about it.

“Is there something wrong?” Miguel asked, noticing how you kept spacing out. Your usual cheery and playful tone missing. “I-” You stirred in his arms. “You’re not really a scientist at Alchemax are you?” Miguel kept his face blank, “Why?” he should have known better to underestimate you, to think that you would believe in the white lie he told you.

You pulled yourself away from him. “Never mind” you brushed your own doubt off, you didn’t want to ruin anything. Miguel tightened his hold on you, to stop you from distancing yourself, both metaphorically and literally. “I’m not.” He confessed. His eyes scanning yours for a reaction.

The watch that he wore started beeping. You sighed, “You’re not from around here” Finally putting the pieces together. “I’m sorry amor.” He apologised, rushing off.

If Miguel knew that would be the last time he saw you. He would have let the world burn just to spend the time with you.

“No!” He exclaimed. The flames engulfed the building and everything in it. The same building he had just left you in, the building that he visited everytime to see you, the building that was your home. Miguel eyes scanned the civilians that were evacuated from the building for you to no avail. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, one clear goal in mind, that he needed to find you. The voices of the civilians panicking, praying for their loved ones filled his ears, then he picked up on the sound of your name. He cursed when they said that you had ran back in to help others.

The building collapsed on itself, Miguel ignored everything. The rubble that was falling only increased his anxiety. He almost cried when he saw you unconscious on the floor.

“Second and third degree burns. Over-inhalation of smoke.” Lyla listed. He was bent over your body, doing anything he could. “There isn’t much hope.” Lyla ended, Miguel would have screamed at her if he wasn’t so focused on rescuriating you.

“No,no,no!” He chanted, his fingers finding your weak pulse. Miguel was at a loss, he couldn’t lose you. “Lyla. Give me the drug.” Lyla eyes widened, “She’s collateral damage Miguel. Saving her will cause the multiverse to-“ “I know that!” Miguel screamed, he knew he was putting everything on the line by saving you. However he couldn’t bring himself to just walk away, to just let you die.

Miguel continued to watch you from afar after he saved you with the drug. He watched as you were accompanied to the hospital and made sure that your condition was stable. Then he made the vow to himself.

The vow that he will no longer break any of the rules he had set for himself. He will not let anyone of a different dimension close to him, he will not risk the multiverse. Miguel O’Hara will not see you again no matter what happens.

He should have known that your stubborn personality would have brought you here to him.

==============

“Being a Spider-Man means people close to you will die. It’s a curse and a responsibility.” Miguel told you. You scoffed at him, “I’m not new to this. I went for so long without you ever noticing my existence. Even when you did, you never knew my identity.” Miguel ran his hands through his hair, “Lyla, check up on what’s her canon event.” “On it!” Lyla chirped. You shook your head, “about that. I think I got lucky.” Miguel glared at you, his mouth opened to scold you for what you just uttered.

“It has already happened. Her canon event has already occured.” Lyla announced. You nodded with your hands on your hips. “What?” Miguel eyes widened.

“My canon event was losing you.” You announced . Miguel’s jaw dropped, that was the reason why he couldn’t track your story, because it had already happened. “I’m lucky because I didn’t lose you for good it seems.” You pointed at him.

“You could have lived a perfectly normal life.” Miguel’s voice became significantly softer. “I would have been dead.” You pointed out. “If you never met me, you could have led a simple life without having to put yourself in danger. Maybe even a family.” The thought of you having a family brought a bittersweet taste to his mouth. You would be a fantastic mother but the thought of you being with someone else was a reality he didn’t want to hear about.

“My life wouldn’t be complete without you.” Miguel stood up to his full height. “You don’t know that.” He snapped.

“We were a mistake. We never should have even met.” Miguel breathed.

Those words hung in the air, suffocating the both of you. You put your hands on your hips, squaring your shoulders and clenching your jaw. You looked at the costume and the symbol you wore on your chest. “The whole reason I’m here is because I’m an anomaly right?” You started. Miguel kept quiet, pressing on the various screens. “Then right your mistakes Miguel. Get rid of me, or whatever you do to anomalies.” You challenged, stepping closer to him.

Miguel remained silent with his back facing you. His fists were clenched on the counter. Miguel was the whole reason you even became a spiderman. You studied quantum physics, tried your very best to be able to come up with something so that you could see him again. Then you figured out a way to become like him, to save lives. It was all to see him again. However, meeting him now. It was a dream come true but why did it seem more like a nightmare?

“Lyla, send her home.” Miguel muttered. “After all the trouble?” Lyla asked, she knew how many nights Miguel had spent just tracking and studying you, to understand your timeline and story. You stepped forward, putting your hand on his shoulder. Miguel was quick enough to turn around, one touch from you and he would never let you go again. “So you’re just going to live the rest of your life being guilty that you dragged me into being spiderman while upholding whatever stupid promise you made about not seeing me again?” You were on the verge of tears, after everything and Miguel didn’t even want to see you. “Yes. I will accept you are spiderman but I will not allow myself to indulge in your company again. I will not repeat my mistake.”

“Mistake of what?” You asked exasperatedly, closing your eyes to calm yourself down. You will not shed tears in front of him. Anger burned in Miguel’s eyes, “I almost caused you to die! You were suppose to die in that fire and it would be because I was there, because you are someone close to me. I will not allow that to happen. Then, you became spiderman too, putting yourself out there in danger and endangering everyone you care about. You don’t understand what you had gotten yourself into.” Miguel emphasised.

“I’m going to die no matter what Miguel! I’m not immortal. I will die in that fire regardless if I met you or not. I could have died after you left me regardless if I had become Spider-Man. I could die tomorrow for all I know!” You tried to knock some logic into Miguel.

Silence fell between the both of you. You shifted your weight from one foot to another,chuckling lightly. “For a Spider-Man, you are a coward, Miguel O’Hara.” You spat.

“There is no happily ever after for us, don’t you get it? Let’s just cut our losses here, let’s not tempt fate.” Miguel insisted, a pained look on his face. You smiled sadly at him, “It was nice seeing you O’Hara.” He stared as you walked off his platform.

“I did miss you, I will miss you.” Miguel admitted, finally getting it off his chest.

“Not enough apparently.”

You waved, turning your back against him and putting your mask back on.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x you

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itoshi-s · 1 year

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anon requested: rin + "why do you keep marking me up? it's hard to mask and people are staring..." // no lukewarm love v-day event !

wk: 1.5k. cw: mildly suggestive, fem coded reader, mention of bruises/hickeys, fluff. rin wears a panda headband i want to eat him whole

standing in front of your full-width bathroom mirror at 6:43 am, eyes still bleary with sleep and hair sticking out in odd directions, you think you just might actually hate your boyfriend.

you know he doesn't exactly mean to do it - but all sense of rationality is long forgotten when the bright violet, reddish bruises are the first thing you notice in your reflection.

with a sigh, you put your fluffy headband on, keeping every hair out of your face, then start applying makeup. you'll have to be quick with it this time, too - you have hit snooze once or twice, and you certainly don't want to be late, yet still have something else than your face to spend time on camouflaging.

the soft playlist you've put on helps calm some of the annoyance that bubbles in your chest as you hum along under your breath, curling your lashes and applying a final coat of mascara. you put on your lip gloss, smacking your lips as you stare at your reflection, and as the initial bleariness of waking up dies down, you actually feel more amused than irritated upon the sight of hickeys littered down your neck.

rin's a possessive lover. he wants - needs - to feel every inch of your skin under his large, roaming hands. he grabs and kneads the flesh, holds it in a tight grip when he manhandles you however he seems fit. when in the moment, rin doesn't pay any mind whether it leaves marks - in fact, there are times when he wants it more than anything, like when you get home from a party looking just a tad too pretty and the green eyed monster creeps up on him. just want to mark up what's mine, the teal-eyed would mumble, laying on his tummy as he glares at you childishly.

you adore his passionate nature - feel on top of the world and like the most beautiful thing to exist when he gives you that look, overcome with love and desire.

but, for the love of god, you appreciate your sleep and sanity just as much, you think as you dab on the third layer of thick concealer, stacked on top of color corrector that really fucking struggles to balance out the purple hues.

you check the time, realizing you've got to leave the house in half an hour now, and that rin's alarm should go off in a minute or two.

as if on cue, there's a pair of footsteps approaching the bathroom door, then they're pushed open to reveal your boyfriend in all his sleepy glory.

shirtless and rubbing at his eyes, rin yawns as he makes his way over to your side of the bathroom counter. he circles an arm around your waist, broad chest feeling warm against your fluffy robe, and he sighs as his head drops to your shoulder.

"hi," rin mumbles, voice hoarse and gravelly with sleep as his lips move against the bare skin on your neck. he kisses a birthmark there and gives your waist a squeeze, turquoise gaze meeting your reflection in the mirror with an appreciative hum. "y'look nice, baby." a pause, "no eyeliner today?"

you just give a gentle shake of your head, eyebrows twitching to furrow and lips almost curling into a smirk. he's so, so clueless - it's endearing, in a way, you think as you watch him slip away and stand by the second sink.

"mm. don't have time for it today." you say softly, stuffing your powder brush back into your makeup bag and zipping it close.

perhaps your voice sounds a bit too quiet, or the exhaustion is still prominent on your features despite the glowy products you so carefully put on, cause rin's eyes drift back to life and gleam with worry.

he turns the faucet on and fiddles with the temperature, giving your face an once-over in the mirror before turning to the sink again.

"oh." he nods, fingers reaching for the fluffy, panda-eared headband you took off barely a few seconds ago. pulling it on with ease, rin wants to say something more, but dismisses it and goes to wash his face instead.

the water, as nice as it feels on his face, doesn't wash off any of this funny, uneasy feeling. is something wrong? are you mad at him? do you feel bad and shouldn't go to work today? (he will make you call it off if that's the case. there's no way you're going in sick.)

there's many possibilities, and he won't be certain until he asks. dabbing his face off with a towel, rin clears his throat to speak before turning to you - but you beat him to it.

"rin," you begin, voice sounding so resigned it makes his brows knit together. "why do you keep marking me up?"

blinking not once, not twice, but perhaps a few times too many, he does look so clueless, so silly, you have to bite back a laugh. you're supposed to be annoyed with him - but how can you really, when he's just doing all that out of bottomless, unconditional love?

continuing, "it's hard to mask and people are staring..." you trail off, giving yourself a glance in the mirror, head tilting to show more of the poorly concealed marks, as if to prove your point.

you look back at rin, who now doesn't look as puzzled anymore. instead, there's a slight frown settled in his pretty features, long lashes still damp and stuck together, lips pulled into a tight line that almost resembles a pout.

the black, fluffy ears sticking out from messy green hair really sell the look, though.

"what do you mean?" rin argues, and you go to sigh, crossing your arms. "you cover these up?"

your eyes widen, snapping over to the striker's face again. for a second, you think you've misheard him - but in fact, he does look as serious as it gets. your heart jolts with shock, flabbergasted at how truly, utterly shameless he is.

"rin!" you gasp, finger pointing to the side of your neck in exasperation. "of course i do! i can't go around work like that," you insist, tugging the hem of your robe to the side.

the man scowls, eyes trained on the faint pinks and purples. "well i don't see anythin' wrong with it," he deadpans and your shoulders slump in defeat. rin turns to face the mirror again, reaching for his toothbrush.

"everyone else does," you whine, pulling at the tie around your waist and sliding the robe off. you go to hang it up, then reach for the clothes you've neatly folded and laid on the counter last night. "i... like the way they look. and feel." you start bashfully, eyes trained on the ground when you step into your dress pants and swiftly pull them up your legs.

rin smirks at that, just slightly before you can see it and smack it right off his face.

you're quiet for a second, and rin takes the time to trail his eyes down your body as he sticks the toothbrush in his mouth. well, to be fair, there are quite a few bruises littered all over, some darker than others. there's a bite mark-shaped one, too, right on the swell of your breast, which you go to cover with the skin tight long sleeve you put on next.

(he fears your reaction when you go to look into the mirror and see it peeking out the neckline.)

it might irk you, and make people uncomfortable or amused, even - but he loves the way they look on your skin, a sharp contract to the smooth, glowy canvas, momentarily stained with his love that runs oh, so feverishly through every single cell in his body.

isn't it only natural he wants to find an output for it and eventually mark what's his?

"but-" you continue, fixing the gold charm between your breasts, the small, zirconia-studded R glimmering under the bathroom lights. "i'd appreciate it if you... kept it down." you mumble, looking up at rin again and your gaze meets his in the mirror.

rin rolls his eyes dramatically, lips quirking up into a ghost of a smile as he brushes his teeth. perhaps, he can try and opt for more... hidden places. it's not ideal - the need to showcase his claim on you still as strong as ever - but not everyone can pay so little mind to what others think of him like he does. certainly, you can't. not with your line of work, either.

he knows, and that's why it almost feels funny when his heart thumps in his chest with refusal. maybe he is a little immature, in a way - but maybe, it's not such a bad thing at all. not when it's your love that makes him feel like a kid, carefree and playful again.

"fine." rin grumbles, words muffled around the brush as he works it on the back of his teeth, sending you an amused look that has your tummy doing flips. "will hav'ta find other ways to mark my territory, though."

#୨୧ 𝑁𝑂 𝐿𝑈𝐾𝐸𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸 #✧.* zaria writes #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock imagines #blue lock scenario #bllk imagines

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hoakaikapo · 2 months

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HAUNTED - Clarisse La Rue x Unclaimed! Fem! Reader

Part 2 of ATTRACTION.

summary: it’s halloween night, and your infamous rival with Clarisse is suddenly about to change…

warnings: mention of alcohol, implied meanings (?), use of pet name (in a joking way), swearing, HEAVY MAKEOUT SESSION. MEN & MINORS DNI PLEASE.

a/n: i can feel the heat radiating off of my laptop because of this one. like, I AM MELTINGGGGG. sorry if this is rushed, i’ll most likely edit this in the morning once i’ve had a chai 🤍

———————

LOUD MUSIC blares from the speakers as you try to make your way to the dance floor, weaving in and out between the numerous dancing bodies as you try to keep your friend in sight, bumping into some of them and muttering inaudible apologies as you sneak by. It was no use. After apologizing to what seemed to be the millionth person, you noticed your friend already dancing up against some tall Hephaestus kid. You couldn’t blame her, however, he was tall and handsome and very muscular from what you could see in the dim lighting. You curse yourself for agreeing to ever going to this party in the first place, knowing that you would most likely be alone for the rest of the night now.

Despite the heat on the dance floor, you couldn’t help but feel cold and naked. Well, you were sort-of naked, wearing a slutty bunny costume which your friend had convinced you to after saying that going as a police officer was too boring and common. You figured she was right, there were about fifty other girls wearing police officer costumes, and they looked far better in it in your opinion. Now alone in a party where you knew virtually no one, you decided to slip back out and head back to your cabin.

Someone spills a drink all over your front, causing you to mutter obscenities that not even the gods could ever think of. Your black bodysuit now reeked of sweat and alcohol. You groan, glaring sourly at the Scooby Doo costume in front of you. How perfect, you thought, being all alone and now someone spills their drink on you. You were about to give them a piece of your mind before you figured that blowing up on someone who’s probably too drunk to even think right now in the middle of a party wasn’t such a good idea. Frustratingly, you quickly look for an exit, only to find yourself face-to-face with yet another person.

Ghostface, you thought, now that’s something original.

“Out of my way,” you shouted, trying to push past the tall figure. Your attempt failed when you felt their muscular arm pull you back in front of them, their hooded eyes gazing into yours before pulling off their mask.

“Going somewhere, bunny?” Clarisse says as she reveals herself. Her usual stupid yet brilliant grin plastered on her face as she eyed you up and down, as if tearing you apart in your choice of costume. You couldn’t tell if she was judging you or if it was something else. But, that didn’t matter. This was still Clarisse La Rue, your natural nemesis, and the one thing standing between you from going back to the cabins and sleeping for the rest of the night. Clarisse read the look on your face and jokingly pouted her lips. “Aw, leaving so soon, bunny?”

You roll your eyes at your new nickname. “Move along, La Rue. I don’t want to have to deal with you.”

“But, bunny, the party just started,” Clarisse’s voice was low and raspy. You hate to admit it, but it was attractive to you, really attractive, and your nickname didn’t sound too bad when she said it this time.

However, your pride and ego took over your lustful thoughts, causing you to react negatively to that name. “Don’t call me that.”

Despite the music blaring in the background, the silence between the two of you was tense. You were taken aback to the time in the locker room a few weeks ago, feeling as if you two were recreating the scene: the intense stares, the hot tension waiting to be broken, obviously the costumes you both were wearing. There’s another thing you’d hate to admit: it’s that Clarisse looked surprisingly fit and attractive in a serial killer’s costume, adding a knife to it only created more of an affect towards you. However, the party scene wasn’t your style, Clarisse simply wasn’t your type (what a liar), and you weren’t the kind of girl who got with someone because of the tension between the two of you. No matter what, you would stand your ground against your temptations. Anything else with Clarisse besides mutual hatred would be like dancing with the devil – a tango that you weren’t too keen on taking even if it is Halloween night.

The prolonged staring soon became boring for Clarisse to continue after some time. She pulled the mask over her face in one motion, which surprised you slightly considering her curls. Patting you slightly on your shoulder, she gestured towards the doorway, as if she was allowing you to finally leave. Underneath the mask, you caught the slightest hint of her grin again, causing you to scowl at her. To Clarisse, this was a game, a game in which you were going to lose if you walked through that door. The thought of leaving was soon replaced with the urge to stay, not wanting to back down in front of Clarisse. Again, she caught the look on your face and dropped her hand back to her side. She stood to her full height, leaning in close enough to where you could feel her breath on your face.

“I knew you wouldn’t back down from this so easily, bunny,” she whispers into your ear. The seductiveness of her tone was enough to send chills throughout your spine. If there weren’t a hundred other kids in the cabin and you were a few more shots in, then you would’ve pounced on the girl.

Time went on, the music got slower and a few campers had already left. You were ready to leave with your friend until that Hephaestus boy came back and insisted that he walk her back to her cabin. You were hesitant at first, wondering if the boy had something else in mind before your friend pleaded to you to let her go. You gave in, and now you were walking back along the dark and wooded pathway alone. The only light came from the full moon peeking in through the treetops. You took a shortcut behind the armory when you noticed a familiar Ghostface slip into it. Your curiosity got the best of you and you went to investigate.

You were met with disappointment when you noticed that it was only Clarisse putting the knife back into its original place, as if she had never stolen it in the first place. Quietly, you began to retreat before you were once again met face-to-face with the Ares girl, mask clutched in hand.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” you quickly defend yourself.

Clarisse tuts, smiling in an almost devilish sort of way. “Really? Because it looks like you were spying on me.”

“Don’t get any funny ideas in that little twisted head of yours, La Rue,” you retorted and folded your arms across your chest. Clarisse leaned in the doorway, her hand hanging loosely enough above your head to play with the fake bunny ears you borrowed from your friend. The light in the armory was dim enough to make out all the small features on Clarisse’s face, the ones that you had never really cared to notice about until now. The sudden change in energy between the two of you felt less intense than before, almost peaceful in a way. You considered that downright near impossible because Clarisse was far beyond ‘peaceful’ in any sort of way.

“You know, I think you look really great tonight,” she whispers as if she was telling you some forbidden secret. You were glad that it was dark outside so that she couldn’t see the sudden rush of red rise to your cheeks. You bit your lip anxiously before removing Clarisse’s fingers off of your bunny ears.

The feeling inside you was different this time. You could feel your heartbeat in your chest as Clarisse eyed you up and down again, licking her lips slowly as if she was enticing you. You could feel yourself almost melt into her touch as she began interlocking your fingers with hers. You could feel your brain trying to fight against your heart, reminding you that Clarisse was the exact opposite of what you could possibly want. But, your heart figured you could turn her into something you need.

Why did you dislike the Ares girl so much in the first place? You began picking at your memories with Clarisse to figure out how the dispute between you two even started. But, the harder you tried to remember, the more you began to forget. Your visions of your first days at camp were quickly replaced with the dark, tall, muscular Ares girl in front of you. You both said nothing, yet the way your eyes hungrily danced between her eyes and her lips said everything to her.

Anything with Clarisse beyond mutual hatred was like dancing with the devil – you could confirm that now that your lips were on hers. You muted the curses in your head as you wrapped your arms around her neck, bringing the Ares girl closer to you. Her arms found her way down to your hips, placing a firm grip on them. The thought of kissing Clarisse had never crossed your mind, ever, yet it surprised you. You had always taken Clarisse as the type where she would like to get things done fast, but right now, Clarisse was slow with it. She was slow with moving her lips against yours, she was slow with guiding her tongue against your bottom lip as if she was slightly begging for entrance, she was slow with pulling you in tighter, even though the space between you two was already minimal enough.

You wanted to complain when Clarisse pulled away first. You noticed the worried look in her eyes after realizing what she had done. You shook your head, glancing around quickly before pushing her into the shed, swiftly closing the door behind you.

“Don’t get that fucking look with me, Clarisse,” you muttered before crashing your lips onto hers again. She grunted at first, taken aback by your sudden boldness, but soon, your passion was met with hers. It was like fire on fire, and you both were now too far gone to even argue what was happening between the two of you.

Now this was what you were expecting from Clarisse. Her arms found her way back around your waist, picking you up and placing you on the wooden table in the shed. You smiled against her teeth as you wrapped her arms around her neck once again, pulling her in closer. She straddled between your legs, silently cursing at the table for being in the way. She wanted to get closer to you, wanted to feel you, wanted to devour this moment up and relive it every time she thought of you, which would now be more often because of this. Against yours, her tongue licked the bottom of your mouth and you finally let her in. You moaned slightly at the hot contact, trying your best to keep your composure. Clarisse’s hands moved from your waist and down to your thighs, repeatedly grazing it in an up and downwards motion. It sent shivers down your spine, earning Clarisse yet another groan from you.

“I told you I’d get you back next time,” she murmured breathlessly against your lips. You wanted to roll your eyes at her for the snarky comment, but the amount of pleasure and satisfaction rushing through your body was too much for you to even think properly.

However, you thought this was a pretty sweet way for her to get back at you: making out in a shed on Halloween night.

Clarisse pulled her lips off yours. You were about to protest before suddenly feeling her lips against your neck, accidentally allowing yourself to let out an almost unholy moan. You covered your mouth suddenly, surprised that you could ever let out such an explicit expression. Clarisse smirked against your hot skin as you did so.

“Shut up, Clarisse,” you snapped at her.

“I think the one who needs shutting up here is you, sweetheart,” she said before concentrating back on leaving dark hickeys along your neckline. In a costume like yours, it would be near impossible to cover up. You could care less right now. You would figure out the logistics later between you and Clarisse’s sudden change in relationship.

You wanted more. Clarisse knew it. But, before anything else could happen, the voices of the other campers were close by. You jumped slightly, pushing Clarisse off of you. She glared at you unhappily before too realizing that the campers were returning, and that if anyone else entered the shed, they would soon be met with the sight of Camp Half-Blood’s infamous rival making out in the middle of the night. So, silently, you slipped out first, followed by Clarisse. She half masked her face and gazed in satisfaction at the artwork on your neck. Created by her, of course. Suddenly, the expression on her face changed. In fact, her entire demeanor changed in a single instant. Clarisse’s hands were hot against your face as she grazed your cheek softly, smiling at you in an almost loving sort of way. As if you both just didn’t have the hottest makeout session of your entire lives. You gave into it, reciprocating that smile as she leaned in to kiss your forehead. No words were said between you two as she ran off back towards her cabin before anyone else could see what happened.

You danced with the devil tonight. You were well aware of that. But, you’ve settled with being a sinner if making out with Clarisse is your absolution.

#percy jackson #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #dior goodjohn #clarisse x reader #fanfic

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feralbutfluffy · 6 months

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Give a Man a Mask

The man who caught Aziraphale’s eye was lounging rather indecorously on one of the many benches lining the walls of the ballroom. He (because despite every inch of them being covered, Aziraphale was sure it was a he) wore a well-tailored black velvet suit jacket that fit snuggly over a black waistcoat intricately embroidered with gunmetal filigree. Underneath the waistcoat, Aziraphale could just make out a black shirt and a flash of burgundy lace at the man’s throat. Black leather gloves laced up around his wrists, and matching knee-high boots fit snuggly over the man's fitted black trousers.

Aziraphale sighed with envy. He could never pull off something like that.

Of course - he told himself - it wasn’t the man necessarily that had caught his eye. It was the clothing; he had always noticed and admired fine clothing, and his outfit really was exquisitely made.

Besides, it was hard not to notice someone who had dressed in such stark contrast to the rest of the guests. It seemed everyone else was dressed to excess, resplendent in feathers and lace, gemstones and pearls. This man’s costume, by contrast, was downright modern; minimal but striking, yet still in keeping with Carnivale. The handstitched leather Plague Doctor mask beneath a black tricorn hat completed the look. It should have looked offputting, really...

It did not.

The man looked less like a man, Aziraphale thought, and more like a long black shadow curving against the wall. Aziraphale popped a fritelle into his mouth and chewed it slowly before swallowing.

If he was honest with himself (which he would prefer not to be, all things considered) he knew what had really attracted his attention; there was something about him - the lazy confidence evident in the way he was sitting, or the dark clothing perhaps - that made him think of Crowley. He hadn’t seen the demon in a few years, and although he was absolutely loathe to admit it even within the privacy of his own mind, he did rather miss him.

Well. He missed him and worried about him in equal parts. Handing over the thermos of Holy Water a few years before had certainly ramped up his anxiety.

He was extremely glad of his full-face volto mask as he watched the figure out of the corner of his eye. He popped another fritelle into his mouth under the mask, chewed, and swallowed with a little groan of pleasure. They really were delicious.

The Plague Doctor swiveled to face him as if he had heard him, and although there was no possible way the stranger could have heard anything of the sort from across the crowded ballroom, Aziraphale blushed ferociously. The heat of it was almost unbearable behind his full-face mask.

He turned his body away from the man, staring down at the sweet delights laid out on the banquet table, and tried very hard to ignore what felt like a heated stare. He gazed down at the galani, his mouth suddenly dry.

Although he was almost expecting it, the dark presence at his elbow a moment later made him start.

“Buonasera, come sta?” said the Plague Doctor in perfect Italian, tipping his hat in a quick formal bow.

Aziraphale had been right about it being a man.

He jerked back at the greeting, startled by the man’s sudden proximity, and scrambled for a reply.

“Oh! Buonasera!” Aziraphale could think of nothing else to say. He cringed behind his mask and wondered if he could miracle his way out of a conversation that was embarrassing before it had even begun.

The Plague Doctor was wearing a zendale beneath his tricorn, and the silk hood concealed every part of his head not covered by mask or hat. He tilted his head, looking like a curious raven, and rested both his gloved hands on top of a cane Aziraphale hadn’t noticed before. His tight grip - Aziraphale could see his knuckles straining against the leather of his gloves - obscured most of what looked like a beautifully carved gunmetal handle.

He looked up. The large eyesockets of the mask were filled with dark glass lenses, revealing absolutely nothing. Aziraphale smoothed down his more traditional costume. The cream and white concoction with gold embroidery and an abundance of lace ruffles had rather delighted him when he’d stepped out this morning, but it felt quite indulgent next to this austere creature.

“I trust you are enjoying yourself?” said the Plague Doctor in an extremely thick Italian accent, leaning forward on his cane so that the beak of his mask almost punctured his bubble of personal space.

“Oh yes, very much so!” Aziraphale nodded, wondering what had drawn this man to his side and how he could possibly reverse it. For all that he had been intrigued before, he hadn’t intended to actually engage the stranger in conversation. There was something extremely unsettling about him up close. Perhaps it was the costume, or the way he was standing; it was patient, watchful, almost… predatory.

Aziraphale shuddered, and the Plague Doctor’s head tilted the other way, making it clear he had noticed.

“Va bene, Signore?” Are you well?

Aziraphale nodded quickly. “Oh yes… Sto bene!” I am well. There was a brief pause while he summoned up formal Italian and hurriedly added a thank you. “La ringrazio!”

The Plague Doctor nodded. “How did you come to be here?” The words came low and slow, and Aziraphale felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, his skin prickling with awareness.

He had always had a bit of a weakness for the Italian accent.

“It was suggested to me by the concierge at my hotel,” he smiled, even though the man couldn’t see it. “He thought I might enjoy it, and he was right! I am enjoying it tremendously! The food alone...!" He made an appreciative noise. "How did you…? Are you local to the area?”

A slight tilt of the head as if the Plague Doctor were considering his question. It was surprising how demonstrative he was able to be without a single facial expression.

“Not exactly,” he said, and Aziraphale thought he could hear a smile in his voice, “Although for tonight... Certo. If you like.”

The man swept into a much deeper, more theatrical bow than before. The black feather in his hat almost grazed Aziraphale’s chest. “This is my palazzo - my festa - and I am your host for the evening. You are…” he said, and straightened, holding out his hand. When Aziraphale hesitated, the man crooked his fingers impatiently and for some reason Aziraphale obeyed, quickly placing his white silk-gloved hand in the man’s leather-clad grip.

“... You are extremely welcome here,” the man finished, bringing Aziraphale's knuckles to his mask.

It didn’t seem to matter that there were no lips there to brush against his hand; Aziraphale felt it as if the man had kissed his knuckles open-mouthed. A dart of something hot and unutterable shot through him, flared up and burnt out, thankfully vanishing before Aziraphale had time to recognise it and panic.

“Yes. Well. Thank you. La ringrazio,” he said, feeling flustered.

“No need for such formality, Signore,” the Plague Doctor said warmly, tugging his hand without warning to bring them shoulder to shoulder. He tucked Aziraphale’s arm into the crook of his elbow and patted his hand as if to reassure him that it was alright.

Aziraphale thought that it was probably not alright.

Surely it was not alright to walk arm in arm with a total stranger? Surely there was something morally grey about taking a turn with a mortal Italian dandy who apparently owned a palazzo and, by extension, the many sweet treats Aziraphale had been helping himself to throughout the evening?

If nothing else, surely he should feel some guilt or shame about enjoying the closeness of a stranger who reminded him so much of Crowley?

#good omens fic #good omens fanfic #ineffable idiots #crowley and aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #mutual pining #they're morons your honour #happy halloween #good omens fanfiction #good omens oneshot #through the ages #aziracrow #not halloween but close enough #oiche samhain #because I'm struggling #Aziraphale in Venice #why not #ineffable #good omens

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the-californicationist · 2 months

Note

Hey 🫵🫶🏻! I love your John Price fics A LOT and I wanted to thank you for that<3 I wanted your opinion! How do you like Price's new skin?!

I'm just thinking about that!!! On a camouflage/infiltration mission and he fucks reader in this outfit!

Me right now looking at this photo:

Cold Shoulder

I wasn't sure how this one was gonna go, but I hope this is close to what you imagined! <3 <3 love this outfit. TW: fem reader, dub con?

"There you are," he growled, lowering his gun when he realized it was you.

You were holed up in a small alcove of a cave on the west side of the mountain. It was snowing, and you were doing your best to keep warm, but it was getting more difficult by the minute. And now, you had your angry captain yelling at you.

"You could've been killed, Sparrow. What the fuck were you thinking? This is a full klick away from the RV."

He closed in on you. Price was still fully geared up, and his snow hood shaded his eyes, making them all the more menacing. He was wearing his shining skull mask, but the sharp teeth below it were scarier than the gleaming bones.

Price grabbed you by the arms and pulled you up to face him,

"Answer me, soldier."

His eyes searched yours, looking for the truth. You swallowed your spit, thick and suffocating, trying to comply,

"I don't know, sir."

"You don't know? You don't know how many men I fuckin' killed to get up here to find you. I thought..." His anger cracked like glass, sudden and violent, "I thought I lost you."

"What do you care... sir?"

The words tumbled out of you before you could catch them. It was hard to call him by his title when you were basically calling him out. But, you managed to tack it on to the end.

The problem was, you hadn't wanted to be saved by your captain. You had wanted to handle your ex-fil on your own. After all, it was he who had told you that you two should stop what you were doing. All the sneaking around and finding comfort in each other in the middle of the night. He had said it needed to stop. So, why was he so concerned about you now? You seethed,

"I could've gotten out of here on my own if you hadn't disconnected my sat-tab! I was closing in on their camp. Soap and his explosion blew my cover and I --"

"That explosion saved your bloody life, little bird. You jeopardized the mission, and you're not using your head. I know you're upset with me, but..."

"Upset? You told me you loved me, John!"

A cold, snowy silence stretched out between you. Even though he was so close to you, you could barely hear his heavy breaths. You could smell him. He was spice and tobacco and oak moss. His sweat and soap tangled with all of his other scents, reminding you of all of the times you had breathed him in.

Suddenly, striking like a viper, he grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you toward his face. You thought he would kiss you, but he didn't. He held you just close enough and said,

"Turn around, Corporal."

"What?" You were confused, but you were at his mercy.

Price turned you around himself, shoving you down on all fours in the stony floor of the cave. The rocks were wet beneath your hands. You heard the zipper of his pants, and you turned to look at him, shocked. He snarled, right in your ear, as he leaned over you,

"Won't listen. Gonna have to make you behave."

He started to pull down your pants, dragging them over your thick ass cheeks, revealing your pussy to him. He took off his glove with his teeth and began to play in you, telling you,

"Can't have you riskin' your life like that, little bird. I do love you. Can't seem to fuckin' help it. Tried to stay away. Can't. I can't."

Then, you felt it. His cock was at your warm entrance, pressing into you in that familiar way but at an unfamiliar pace.

Usually, he treated you like his soft little princess despite the fact that you were a seasoned soldier. He would eat you for hours, sometimes, making you dripping and pliant enough to take his heavy girth.

But, not now. Now, he was on a mission to make you remember how precious you really were. You needed to learn, and he was ready to teach you.

You screamed as he pressed your walls apart. It wasn't pain, but it was intense. He went slowly, but he didn't relent. As he began to pump himself in and out of your body, he lay his hand down hard across your ass, smacking you and letting the skin burn beneath his palm,

"Tha's it, birdie. Sing for me. Loud. Let me hear you."

Price's huge rod was fucking you so deep at this angle, and he wanted more. So, he pushed your shoulders down, forcing your chest into the snow. Your cheek hurt from the ice.

"So wet for me. Almost like you wanted me to find you," he teased.

What could you tell him? That he was right?

All you did to respond was pulse around him, gripping him hard inside of your body, making him stutter in his rhythm.

He let out a low growl and grabbed your ponytail in his hand, arching your back up towards him, barking commands at you,

"Say you're sorry! Tell me you're sorry for riskin' your fuckin' life up here on this goddamn mountain. Say it!"

"I'm sorry..." You managed.

"Sorry, what?" He bit down hard on your neck, marking you with his teeth.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Good girl. See? You're so good. So good for me. Mmmf. Fuck!"

He pounded into you mercilessly, and his other hand began to play with your clit, smearing your wet juices all over your lower lips and skin, dragging it up over your mons and onto your belly.

"Fuck, you're so wet, Sparrow. I'm gonna come in you."

"Yes, sir."

"Fuck!"

You felt his hot come pool in your body, radiating through your skin, wet on wet on wet. Your ass cheeks stung, your body ached, and yet, you were so satisfied. You'd never seen Price get so worked up, but you wanted more. He had created a monster.

He fastened his pants and sat with you in his lap, breathing heavy in the darkness of his hood.

"Sparrow, I love you. I can't lose you. I won't. Don't do that to me."

"I love you, too, John."

You nuzzled against his neck, smelling his familiar scent, waiting for the next time you could misbehave.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #call of duty #x female reader #john price x female reader #captain john price x female reader #captain price x female reader #captain johnathan price #captain john price smut

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b0r3dtod3ath · 3 months

Note

would you write a piece about carmy sending the reader home because they’re sick, and he’s like fussing over her 😭

You awoke to the sensation of blocked sinuses and a pounding headache. Shifting in bed, you glanced at your digital alarm clock, revealing the date: two weeks away from the opening. Despite the discomfort, calling in sick was not an option – you didn't feel like you were dying, and the restaurant had just successfully passed a test with the gas supply now restored.

You came in trying to go unnoticed. Like clockwork, you discreetly changed your shoes and prepared your set of knives. Moving silently, you navigated to your designated station, exchanging brief greetings along the way. Thankfully, your tasks for the day involved prepping, allowing you to maintain quiet and out of sight.

After a while, the urge to blow your nose became distracting, dominating your thoughts and disrupting your focus. Deciding to take a moment of break, you set aside everything and made your way to the bathroom. There, you blew your nose and splashed some cold water on your face, relieving the discomfort and waking up yourself a bit. *knock* *knock* "Are you okay in there?" Syd's concerned voice rang out. Your eyes widened as you hold in a cough. "Yeah, I'm fine, just give me a moment," you replied, just before noticing her footsteps gradually fading away. Moments later, another knock echoed. "What? Just give me a minute. I'm fine," you said, your tone carrying a touch of bitterness. Focused on not causing a scene about your sickness, you were aware that right now everyone was needed. A commanding voice broke through, this time belonging to Carmy. "Hey, chef. Open the door." Sighing, you silently did what you were told, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention. "I know you're not well. You're going home. Come on, I'll drop you," he declared, his words sounding more like a command than a suggestion. Attempting to not make yourself look weak, you insisted, "No, I'm okay. I'll wear a mask, and I can still help here." Carmy shook his head, closing the distance. Placing a cool hand on your forehead, he said, "No, you're not going to sit here sick and spread germs in my kitchen. Come on, I'll drop you off, and this evening, I'll swing by to make you a nice soup." Faced with the idea of a private chef in your own kitchen, you found it impossible to refuse.

Jan 31, 2024

#writers on tumblr #fan fic writing #x reader #the bear x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you

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whalesforhands · 9 months

Note

Hi!<33 hope your having a great day!<33 let me just say that I love your geto x reader x Gojo x Shoko stories! They're so funny and sweet! I just love how you write them and their dynamique with the reader! And once I started reading the series I couldn't stop imagining the trio finding out one day after she didn't attend class that poor reader is sick! 🥺 How wold they take of her? (I can't stop imagining Geto and Gojo arguing with eachother while Shoko snuggles with reader and feeds her soup 😂)

Anyway if you don't want to do this ask that's fine! ☺️ Lots of kisses and continue the good work! 💕 (If I mispelled something wrong sorry! English's not my first language)

in sickness and in health (geto x reader x gojo, shoko x reader)

this is totally not just me trying to tide you all over because the main series is taking a long time to write

masterlist

warnings: sick ppl are gross, wear masks, wash ur hands, celsius is used instead of Fahrenheit bcs i say so

You should’ve heeded your body’s warnings to you. Laying in your bed, thermometer sticking out of your mouth as the fever relief patch on your forehead sticks despite your sweat slick self.

Hearing the beeping, you eyes glazed over as you pulled the instrument out, saliva feeling repulsively thick as you stared at the thermometer screen, your breaths short and your pajamas feeling abnormally warm, sticky and gross.

39.4 °C.

You’re absolutely burning up. You shouldn’t have gone with that plan. You knew. You knew, yet you still did it anyway.

“Just get on!” His arm is waving at you from afar, his white button up billowing in the summer breeze.

“Come on, trust us!”

“Plus!” He smacks a smiling Suguru’s shoulder. “Suguru doesn’t skip leg day!”

You should’ve never trusted him. You and Shoko both. Not when he had all 4 of you squeeze onto that bicycle.

“WAHAHAHAH!” Gojo was hysterical as he laughed at your three river-soaked forms. Laughing merrily at his dry and perfectly put-together state from using Infinity to save himself.

“You all look terrible! AHAHAHAHA!” He’s pulling out his phone to snap a quick selfie shots. You’re helping Shoko, shifting a lock of her wet hair away from her face to reveal her grumpy expression.

“Come here.” She beckons you closer, a sweet smile, dripping with anger on her face as her hand moves to tuck your wet hair behind your ear.

Suguru grunts as he looks towards his significant other’s camera, eyes flittering to both you and Shoko sharing secrets as she cups a hand over your ear. You’re both fine. That’s a relief.

His eyes focus back on his still cackling boyfriend. His brown eyes darken with a thirst for payback. “Satoru~, help me out why don’tcha?” A chirp sweetened with an affectionate tone, a benevolent smile bestowed as he holds an amicable hand out, waiting to be helped up as he sits in the water, drenched to the very bone as his now translucent shirt begins to stick to his skin.

You hear Gojo snort in retort, waving off the black-haired sorcerer. “Ya think I’m gonna fall for that? Try harder, babe.” He’s very obviously eyeing the now more exposed Geto, before his eyes met yours. Prepared. Ready.

Shoko is done, her gaze surreptitiously meets Suguru’s own.

“Satoru…” Your watery eyes and helpless expression meets his, a tremble pairing your frowning lips and gem-like eyes shining with your feeble tears.

“Are you not going to help me…?”

Hook, line and sinker.

“L-look, it w-wasn’t on purpose,” He’s gulping as he starts to trek into the water, his shoes getting soaked. Infinity has been forgotten. “I only wanted to-!”

He’s tackled back by 3 weights, all landing on top of him as they start to laugh and splash water onto his still surprised form.

You’re nauseous, head on your far-too-warm pillow as you smile slightly at the memory. Okay. Maybe it was worth it. Just a little.

(You do feel a little better.)

You feel another wave of queasiness hit you once again, your hand over your mouth as you gag, yesterday’s dinner threatening to crawl up your oesophagus and cover your freshly changed sheets with bile.

Oh.

You’ll have to send Shoko a text. You hope she doesn’t mind being disturbed when class has only just begun 2 minutes ago…

——

Insistent knocks at your door wake you into consciousness, your eyes snapping open and trying to clear your cloudy sight.

“C-come in!” Your voice is rough, a consequence that occurred after throwing your guts out in the bathroom. Your stomach hurts, the acid eating at its inner lining as it growls for food.

You haven’t eaten. You probably smell bad. You look horrible.

“A-actually- P-Please don’t come-!” Too late. Your room’s been intruded by 3 individuals.

“Your favourite nurses are here to soothe you back to health!”

You internally groan at the boisterous loud voice. Shoko had told all of them.

——

You see a disgruntled Satoru, cheeks puffed up as he marches into your room with a just as displeased Shoko crossing her arms and pouting.

They’ve been kicked out of the kitchen by a fed up Suguru.

“What do you mean we can’t just buy her instant porridge from the convenience store? It’s instant!” Gojo waves a whisk around as he dons the frilly pink apron, head on Geto’s shoulder and leaning onto him.

Suguru wants to smack someone. He holds himself back as he washes the rice, despite the disturbance, sleeves pulled up to his elbows as he swirls the water within the pot.

It’s for you. It’s for you. It’s for you. It’s for-

“Because it’s not healthy-“ His anger becomes slow irritation as he feels a vein pop when he sees Shoko poking the sweet potato with a pair of scissors.

“Both of you.” His smile is menacing as his aura overtakes the room.

“Get out.”

That’s why both of them were here now, fluffing your pillow, wiping your head with a cold cloth.

“Do you want to change clothes?” You hear Shoko whisper, her voice lulling and pacifying your senses as Satoru does his one task of continuously dabbing your head with a warm cloth.

(He was making a mess of everything else. Shoko delegated him to cloth duty.)

You can only muster a nod. Your clothing is uncomfortable, and she must’ve noticed.

(“Gojo.” She smiles at him as she caresses your warm face. “Get out.”

“Again?!”)

——

She’s helping you out of your clothing, your front slumping into her shoulder as she undid the buttons of your pajamas, the washcloth dragging gently across your damp skin.

Your guilt is starting to kick in.

“I’m-“ Your voice is starting to die. “I’m sorry for being such…” You suck in a breath through your sick haze. It’s hard to breathe. “A burden.” You do. You’re so weak. So useless.

Getting this sick over a culmination of your own horrible habits. Not eating enough, not sleeping enough, not getting enough liquids in during the day… Not taking care of yourself.

You did this to yourself, yet they have to clean up after you. They, who had their lives put together, their own lives to live. Yet, they’re wasting time caring about you.

Do they think you’re doing this only for their attention too? You’re not surprised if they ar-

“Don’t be sorry for things that you’re not at fault for.” Her tone is dismissive but firm. “We’re here because we want to be. Stop being such a downer.”

A pat to your cheek despite the blunt words. A reality to your delusion.

She cares. They care. Deeply.

You could almost cry at her genuity. Scratch that, you already are.

You hide your face away into her shoulder, tears starting to gather.

“…thank you.”

(“It’s not fair that you had to kick me out to do that! I could’ve done it too!”

“Pervert.”)

——

“Aaa…” You’re opening your mouth just as Gojo flies another ‘aircraft’ into it.

(You’re embarrassed. He wouldn’t give it to you any other way. Or normally.)

“Good girl!” He’s ruffling your hair, grin stretched wide across his lips in pure elation as he feeds you.

“Just a few more bites then you can take your medicine!”

You swallow down the piping hot rice porridge that Satoru personally blew on to cool down, the lingering ginger and chives leaving a pleasant aftertaste in your mouth.

“Is… Did you get the syrup version…?” You stare, afraid as you see Suguru holding a tray with the familiar dark liquid and brand, coupled with a tall glass of water.

Satoru’s sunglasses suddenly glint. “Is someone scared of a little medicine?~”

——

Suguru presses the spoon against your trembling lips as you hesitantly part them, allowing the disgusting liquid to run down your throat as he immediately hands you the water.

Your face is grimacing in disgust, in pain and revulsion as you hold the water in your mouth, struggling to swallow down the vile substance.

(You eventually do when Suguru lightly places a hand on your shoulder, relaxing you.)

Applause reverberates throughout your room.

“Congrats!”

“Good job.”

“See? I knew you could do it.”

“…are you all making fun of me?”

masterlist

Notes:

Geto would’ve been the one feeding you, but he saw how dejected Gojo was at not really being able to ‘care’ for you other than being the errand boy sent out to buy the cold medicine.

You drank that medicine after you were promised crepe cake from that nearby bakery.

Shoko was the one who brought up that compromise.

The trio actually wanted to leave the lesson immediately after Shoko got your text. Yaga denied them, but he let them off early on purpose.

Yaga visited your dorm when all 4 of you were in it, coming in to check on you.

He hopes none of 3 get sick from spending so much time with you. Especially with how they basically fell asleep around your bed.

“Kids.” He mumbled, throwing blankets around all of them before he turned the lights off, gently shutting your door.

#geto x reader x gojo #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #whalewrites #getou suguru x reader #dyf au #ieiri shoko x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk fluff

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aceviscontiswife · 3 months

Text

Late Night Visit | Danny Johnson

Danny pays you a visit after a very successful night, you help him celebrate.

I figured that since I started this blog with Danny, I should return from my very long absence with Danny.

Afab!Reader. Warnings: 18+!!! PRE-ENTITY! Pre-established relationship. Little plot before smut, lots of f-bombs (sorry), Talk/descriptions of murder, Mating press, degradation, talk of murder during sex, overstimulation. NOT PROOFREAD… oops.

It was a cold, rainy, miserable night in Roseville. Most people were staying home, curled up in bed and sleeping to pass time. Danny was not, nor was the woman whose life Danny had worked so hard to take. She was a fighter… something Danny had not expected but he eventually managed to take her down. Her screams were like music to his ears, and the bloody scene her murder had left? Tonight was a success.

However, Danny was left feeling pent up. He had to tell someone about how good he did, about how skillfully he dug his knife into that woman’s chest… he needed you. God, you were the best reward he could think of, and Danny definitely deserved his treat. Despite it being nearly midnight, Danny began making his way to your apartment, still wearing his bloodied cloak and mask. Not like anyone would notice him anyways.

***

You were woken up by a tapping on your window. The rain had died down a while ago, so when the tapping didn’t stop you figured you might as well see what was going on. Flicking on your bedside lamp, you look on in shock as you spot what was causing that annoying tapping.

Danny?

Did he have no fear of getting caught? He was covered in blood, still wearing his signature Ghostface outfit, and practically banging on your window! You get out of bed, only wearing one of Danny’s shirts—that he had left here the last time he came over, and quickly open your window.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You whisper harshly, helping Danny inside before shutting your window and looking up at him with the most annoyed yet concerned look you could muster. “I’m not allowed to pay my girlfriend a visit?” You could practically feel him grinning at you from under his mask, Danny knew how to get on your nerves quicker than anyone. He also never stopped by your apartment after one of his… nights, at least not without having changed first.

“You are, but… why?” Your question was only met with a chuckle as Danny reaches up to take his mask off, revealing the face you had come to love more than anything. As well as a look in his eyes that seemed to answer your question before Danny could. “Tonight was amazing, doll. I can’t wait to tell you how well I did… but right now, right now I need you more than anything.” His words brought heat to your face as well as your core, a tingle running down your spine as Danny takes a step closer to you, his eyes practically undressing you then and there.

Danny got like this after a successful kill. Before you came along he would just handle things by himself, but now that you’re here? God, he couldn’t wait to have you. Without waiting for your response, one of Danny’s gloved hands grab your chin, tilting your head up until your eyes met his. Danny wasted no time in quickly pressing his lips against yours, the lustful urgency behind his moves enough to make you whimper against his lips.

Danny guides you towards the bed—you blindly stepping backwards until the back of your knees came into contact with your mattress. Danny gives you a soft push, breaking the heated kiss and causing you to fall back onto the bed in the process. Looking up at him, you could see just how badly Danny needed this. He wasn’t himself, no, he was Ghostface—primal, bloodthirsty, and ready to get what he wanted. Arousal rushed through your system at the sight, and you were sure your panties were already getting soaked.

“Fuck,” Danny starts, already beginning to take off his cloaks. “If you don’t want this, then you better say it now doll.” Danny pauses for a moment, giving you one chance to back out. You knew what you were getting into, you might be the one and only person Danny loves, but he would always put his needs first—and his need was you.

“I want this.” You reply, a lustful tone dripping off of your tongue that you had never heard before. Or at least not this intense. Danny only nods, continuing to removes his cloaks until they fell into a heaped, bloodstained pile behind him. A smile paints his features, dark brown eyes somehow darkening as he begins to undo his belt. “Good.”

His belt now undone, Danny tosses it aside and unzips his pants, letting them fall to his ankles before kicking them aside. He was left in his boxers, his bulge straining against the fabric and a wet patch forming where the tip of his cock would be. It was now your turn to undress, and you wasted no time in doing so. You took off your shirt, about to take off your pajama pants as well before Danny swatted your hands away and did it himself. He chuckles upon seeing how wet you were, the sight spurring him on even more.

“Fuck it, I can’t wait any longer.” It was Danny’s version of a warning, and before you knew it he was on the bed, pinning you under him. Your legs wrap around his waist, but Danny grabs the back of your thighs and pushes your legs back until your thighs were pressed against your chest. Danny pulls his boxers down, pulling away just long enough to finish taking them off and tossing them with the rest of his clothes.

Your panties however, were simply moved to the side. Danny couldn’t be bothered with taking them off. “You’re already so wet, doll… did seeing me all bloody really get you that fucking excited?” Danny clicks his tongue, lining his cock up with your entrance. No prep, but with how eager Danny was, you didn’t expect any. His words sent a spark of arousal down your spine, your pussy clenching against nothing as your clit practically begged for attention.

“Please, Danny—“ You were cut off by Danny, who suddenly pushed into you without warning. Your heels dig into his shoulder blades, a strained gasp escaping your lips as your eyes screw shut. Danny groans, pumping into you at a quick pace. “This what you wanted? To be pounded like the slut you are?” You didn’t respond—you couldn’t respond, a loud moan interrupting any of the words that wanted to leave your mouth.

Danny growls as he thrusts into you, reaching down to kiss and bite at your neck, leaving marks that you were sure everyone would see the next time you went out. Neither of you cared, however, as Danny chuckles suddenly and pulls back, grabbing your chin and forcing your attention to be on him.

“Wish you could’ve seen it, doll… she was—fuck, she was screaming so loud, had me worried for a second that someone might hear.” Was he really talking about that now? Anyone else would have been utterly disgusted, but for some unknown reason, it only turned you on more. “She bled so much… Stabbed her so. many. fucking. times.” Danny groans, a moan escaping his lips as he drills into you, hands grabbing the back of your thighs and locking you into the press he had you in.

You could already feel that all familiar knot growing in your stomach, your gasps and moans growing louder and needier as you try to warn Danny. “D-Danny-! ‘Can feel it- don’t stop!” Danny laughs at you, not easing up on his brutal pace whatsoever as he brings you closer and closer to your peak. “Look at you, already about to cum. Such a whore, barely started and she’s already gonna cum.” His words, while rude, were all you needed to topple over the edge, your pussy clenching around Danny’s dick as you cum with a strained gasp and yell of his name.

Danny could feel his orgasm building closer, but he held it off, fucking into you until you were writhing and squirming under his grasp, hands grabbing at his biceps as you try to escape the painfully pleasant overstimulation.

“Gonna fill this pussy up with my cum—shit, you feel so good. ‘Feels better than killing that bitch, that’s for fucking sure.” You cry out as Danny’s pace begins to grow sloppier and sloppier, still managing to hit all the right places, leaving you seeing stars. Tears of ecstasy were dripping down your cheeks, only filling Danny’s darkest desires as he bring a hand up to cup your cheek—the softest thing he’s done so far, his lips crashing against yours.

Danny groans, muffled against your mouth as you feel his hot cum fill you, his thrusts only letting up for a moment before they start back up. You weren’t sure how much you could take, but Danny didn’t seem to care. You were in for a long night, and you knew it.

You whimper, squirming underneath Danny as the pleasure begins to be too much. Danny knew exactly what he was doing to you, and he’d be damned if he stopped any time soon. “You wanted this, doll. I’m not stopping until you’re practically full of my cum.”

***

Trying to get back into writing after taking a freakishly long break is… hard. Still, I hope you enjoyed this (that I totally wrote at 1am & while super sick)! Love ya. ❤️

#dead by daylight #danny johnson #ghostface dbd #ghostface x reader #ghostface #ghostface x y/n #ghostface smut #danny johnson dbd #danny johnson smut #dbd smut #need him

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