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scudslut · 9 months ago

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Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'.

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.”

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water.

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily.

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly.

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy.

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away.

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong.

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?”

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank.

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

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chvoswxtch · 2 years ago

Text

return the favor

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader x frank castle

summary: you're always there when matt and frank need you, no matter what it is, or what time of day. they decide it's time to return the favor, and show some gratitude.

warnings: all of them. every single one of them. swearing, mentions of blood, explicit sexual content (minors dni, seriously this is like x rated), little bits of fluff sprinkled in

word count: 12.6k

a/n: i'm not even going to apologize. y'all know me by now. y'all know who I am as a person. y'all know I cannot be normal about either one of them, and i've stopped trying to be. my inner slut took over when I wrote this, and it is filthy. it had me sweating like a whore in church. I don't even go to church. i'm not even religious, and I feel like I need to pray for forgiveness after this. this baby is over 30 pages, and it is a ride. ;)

this is my holiday gift to each and every one of you precious angel babies. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated! ❤️

also again, i'm still not sure if the glitch with dark mode has been fixed or not but if you're on dark mode, you may have trouble viewing this. I apologize for any inconvenience reading in advance!

At this point you weren’t sure who started it this time. Honestly, you weren’t even sure if one of them had started it, or if it was just another argument carrying over from earlier. You’d given up keeping score in their little competition of who could be more ornery. It used to amuse you. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and the big bad Punisher constantly bickering back and forth like an old married couple, muttering under their breath in exasperation at the others' antics, yet still fighting through all that annoyance to come to the other’s defense if need be. If it had been any other night, you might have been entertained. You might have even laughed at how ridiculous they were being. But it was nearly midnight, you were beyond exhausted, and to top it all off, it was absolutely fucking freezing on top of this roof.

Why were you even here again? Oh yeah, Frank. He had sustained a pretty nasty cut to his arm after what was supposed to be an easy takedown had turned into a confounded ambush. You’d received a simple text from Matt’s burner phone a little over an hour earlier that had just consisted of the words “roof” and “kit”. Using your context clues, you assumed he meant his roof. You didn’t even give it much thought before you were bracing yourself against the November chill for seven blocks, letting yourself in with your emergency spare key and grabbing the medical kit from his bathroom on the way up. Patching up Matt was something you were used to by now, but you were incredibly anxious as to why he wanted you to meet him on the roof of his building. Was he hurt that bad? Could he not even make it inside? Should you call Claire?

Your thumb hovered over her number as you ascended the stairs, however as soon as you heard the familiar mix of combative voices, you rolled your eyes and shoved your phone in your pocket. Pushing open the door, you were met with a sight you had become all too accustomed to in the past few months; Matt and Frank at each other’s throats. When they could agree on something and both be level headed, they worked well together. Great, even. But when they disagreed, and were fueled by rage and their own devastating egos, it was like a front row seat to world war three. There were times you’d had to enlist Jessica or Luke just to pry them apart, needing an indestructible wedge between them until they could be civil.

It didn’t take you long to figure out that Frank was the one in need of aid. There was a large tear in his shirt that was normally snug around his bicep, showcasing a jagged view of torn flesh that was dripping violently with crimson. You could make out a few other cuts and bruises that littered his face from the light coming off the obnoxious billboard across the street. It was harder to tell when Matt was hurt, not only because his suit was deep red, but also because he hid it very well. Not that Frank didn’t hide it just as well. They could both be standing in front of you absolutely covered head to toe in blood with visible gashes and holes and still insist that they were fine. There were streaks of blood around Matt’s mouth and nose, but he otherwise appeared to be in good shape. Loudly clearing your throat, you dropped the kit onto the floor by your feet and placed your hands on your hips as both men’s heads whipped around in your direction.

“Can you two pretend to get along for fifteen minutes so I can do what you called me here for, or would you both rather bleed to death on this roof?”

Seven minutes. They made it seven minutes. You had just finished the final stitch on Frank’s arm when a snide comment from Matt had him unraveling in anger all over again. Tonight seemed to be worse than usual. You couldn’t tell if it was due to the pain from their injuries, the exhaustion from the recent sleepless nights, frustration from lead after lead that kept turning into dead ends, a combination of all of the above, or what. They were in each other’s faces, noses barely a centimeter apart, trading insults like verbal punches in an invisible ring. You were shocked Matt had even called you to help patch up Frank with the way his mouth was curled into a glowering snarl towards him, fists bunched tightly at his sides ready to strike at any moment.

“If you had just fucking listened to me-”

“Because you got it all figured out, don’t ya Red? Huh? You think them fancy fuckin’ senses of yours make you better than me? I was takin’ terrorist organizations down overseas while you were gettin’ shitfaced off cheap booze in your dorm, but heaven forbid I walk into a fuckin’ building without your goddamn say so.”

“Goddammit Frank, I can hear things you can’t. Like when there’s twenty fucking men armed with guns in a building that’s supposed to be-”

“Your priest know you use such colorful language? You tell him that when you’re confessin’ on Sundays? You even tell him ‘bout all the people you beat the shit out of for fun? Or you leave all that out, altar boy?”

“This isn’t a joke, Frank. They were armed with way more ammunition than we planned for, and there were more of them than there should’ve been. They fucking knew we were coming. If you would have just-”

“Nah, nah. If you had fuckin’ listened to me, we would’ve been fine. If you weren’t such a goddamn pussy, and let me do what the fuck I need to do-”

As much as you tried to drown them out, their voices only got louder and louder. Rubbing your temples with your index and middle fingers did absolutely nothing to soothe the dull ache that had begun to throb in your head. God, they were exhausting sometimes. It amazed you how much they changed when they were together. Matt was usually more calm and collected, and Frank was usually quieter. As much as they brought out the best in each other when they did get along, they brought out even more of the worst when they didn’t. It was like they both had a perfect blueprint of where the other’s buttons were, and always knew exactly where to press. That dull ache in your head was beginning to glow like tiny embers waiting to spark. Your fingers had gone numb from the cold through the thin latex gloves. Your patience had run out half an hour ago, or long before that if you were being honest with yourself. You were pissed they had the audacity to drag you out of your warm bed in the middle of the night just to act like you weren’t there, waiting for them to finish their childish bullshit. The irritation had been wearing you down from the second you stepped onto the roof and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Would you both just shut the fuck up already? Seriously? I am so sick of listening to the two of you bitch and bicker about every little fucking thing. I have fucking had it with both of you. If you two can’t get your shit together, I swear to God, I’m going to-”

“What? What are you gonna do, sweetheart?”

If you weren’t pissed off already, the arrogant smirk tugging at the corner of Frank’s lips certainly pushed you over the edge. He cocked his head to the side, staring at you with his dark eyes squinted in levity. One of his thick brows rose in challenge, daring you to continue your rant.

“Aw c’mon, darlin’. Thirty seconds ago you were all big and bad, runnin’ that bratty little mouth of yours. Now you got nothin’ to say?”

“Get your shit together, or I will beat your ass.”

“I think she means that, Frank.”

“No shit? She ain’t lyin’?”

“Nope. Heartbeat’s steady.”

“Well ain’t that cute.”

The teasing tone of Matt’s voice hitting your ears felt like gasoline being thrown on the fire that was already raging within you. A devilish grin stretched over his mouth, showcasing the dimples in his cheeks that you loved so much. Normally the sight of that smile would make you weak in the knees, but right now it infuriated the fuck out of you. Both men were staring at you in complete amusement, smug grins plastered on their faces, and you wanted nothing more than to walk over and slap them off.

“Fuck you both.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Matt’s response knocked the breath right out of your lungs, and all your anger with it. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you stared at him, jaw dropping slightly. He had never spoken to you like that. Matt was a natural flirt, that was just his personality. He had definitely said a few things that made you question how he really felt about you, and there were a few “accidental” touches that lingered a little too long, but never anything like that. And certainly never in the voice he typically reserved for interrogating criminals. You were completely stunned in place, brain failing to come up with any kind of response. Even though Matt’s words were phrased as an inquisition, it came out more like a confident statement, like a rhetorical question he already knew the answer to.

“Well?”

Frank’s voice seemed to break the trance Matt had you under, your eyes darting over towards his large figure. Somehow he was now only standing about a foot away from you. When did he get so close? How had you missed that? You were used to Matt sneaking up on you constantly since the man was practically a fucking ninja, but Frank wasn’t as stealthy. He was a lot bigger, moved with more force than precision, and commanded every space he stepped into.

“What?”

“You gonna answer him?”

Frank’s eyes bore into yours as he motioned his head towards Matt, the intensity of his gaze making you feel as if you had shrunk several sizes in his presence. Sometimes you forgot just how big he was, and how menacing he could be when he wanted to. There was something gleaming in the darkness of his eyes that you couldn’t place. His features were set in their usual broody state apart from his mouth that was still slightly curved in a wicked smirk. A sudden shiver descended your spine, but it wasn’t from the cold. Instinctively you took a step back, blinking a few times before staring down at your trembling hands as you removed the bloody gloves.

“I don’t…look just…clean yourselves up. Try not to kill each other, or piss off Matt’s neighbors any more than you already have.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“It’s cold, Matthew.”

“But that’s not why your hands are shaking. Is it?”

Glancing up, a slight gasp flew from your mouth noticing that Matt was now standing right next to Frank. His head was cocked towards the right, chin jutted out in your direction, studying you intently. You couldn’t see the beautiful honey brown of his eyes that were hidden behind the obsidian lenses of his mask. His voice had dropped even lower, and your stomach dropped down into a pit of nerves along with it. A sobering thought washed over you that your beloved captivating lawyer was not the one standing in front of you; the Devil was. This wasn’t exactly new to you. Sometimes Matt had trouble shifting back into a level-headed state after particularly bad nights, or when patrols left his adrenaline pumping through his veins like rocket fluid. You had witnessed the battle on several occasions between Matthew Murdock and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for control. But this was…different. He was eerily calm and still, and it made you nervous.

“This ain’t like you, sweetheart. Bein’ all mouthy, actin’ like a damn brat, not answerin’ questions when asked. Where’s our good girl, hm?”

The mega-watt grin that immediately took over Matt’s mouth could have put that blinding billboard behind him to fucking shame.

“Oh, she liked that Frank.”

“Did she?”

“Should’ve heard the way her heart jumped. You are our good girl, aren’t you angel?”

The connection between your brain and your mouth had been severed. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t hardly breathe. Your wide eyes flickered back and forth in dumbfoundment between the two men standing in front of you. Surely, you were hearing them wrong. Were they messing with you? Where was all this coming from? What the fuck was happening?

“C’mon darlin’, use that pretty little head of yours and talk to us. Red asked you a question, yeah?”

There was a hint of teasing that laced Frank’s gravelly voice as his eyes remained fixated on you. Your head was spinning like a rogue carousel and your heart was thrashing to break through your ribcage.

“I…I don’t understand-”

“I think you do, angel. You’re a smart girl, but you’re not subtle. We know what you want, and we’re more than happy to give it to you. Isn’t that right, Frank?”

“S’right, Red. We think you’ve earned it, sweetheart. Takin’ such good care of us, puttin’ up with all our shit, always there when we need ya. We’d like to return the favor, darlin’.”

“See angel, the one thing Frank and I absolutely agree on, is how pretty you’re gonna sound when we ruin you.”

Matt’s confession struck your core like lightning and tore a startled moan of desperation from your throat. His grin stretched even further across his sinful lips, a dark chuckle emitting from low within his chest. Frank’s eyebrows rose a hair in surprise, only for a moment, before that crooked, teeth baring smile of his was back on full display. He joined Matt in sinister snickering, like there was some kind of inside joke you weren’t a part of.

“Do me a favor, Red. Put them damn senses of yours to good use and tell me how wet she is right now.”

There was never a battle with Frank. There was never anyone else fighting for control. With Frank, what you saw was exactly what you got. There was no slipping back and forth, no struggle, there was just…him. Unabashed, unapologetic, shameless Frank. He didn’t hide it when he flirted with you. He didn’t mince words, or speak in riddles. He always said exactly what he meant so there was never any confusing his words or motives. He never pushed it any further than playful banter and flirty remarks, but he also didn’t hide behind the guise of friendly teasing. The order he gave Matt caused your brain to short circuit and you were honestly surprised it hadn’t knocked you onto your knees. Matt’s lips parted slightly, just enough for his tongue to meet the air as he inhaled deeply. A satisfied hum sounded in the back of his throat.

“Not nearly as wet as she’s going to be. But she smells fucking divine.”

“Bet she tastes even better.”

“I can’t wait to find out.”

The next few minutes passed by in a bit of a blur. Frank had thrown you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing more than the duffel bag he hauled around, carrying you down the steps into Matt’s living room with haste. Matt trailed closely behind the two of you, quickly removing his gloves and helmet somewhere along the way. Before you could even register being put back down on wobbly legs, two large hands grabbed your face and a strong pair of lips met your own. Frank.

The kiss was full of passion but surprisingly tender, a sigh of relief echoing in your mouth from him. Frank kissed you deeply, but slowly, wanting to savor the feeling and the taste of you. Matt managed to sneak his hand between your bodies, tugging at the zipper of your jacket and pulling it off your shoulders with ease. He pulled down the left sleeve of your thin sweater, trailing his lips along the exposed skin before nipping and sucking at the junction above your collarbone. The scruff of his facial hair contrasted roughly with the softness of his lips and it made your mind even hazier, a moan tumbling into Frank’s mouth. Matt growled lowly, gripping onto your hips and pulling your ass against his front abruptly so you could feel how hard he was through his suit, earning another whine from you. His hand was nearly halfway into your jeans when Frank reached out to grab his wrist, halting his movements.

“Quit bein’ fuckin’ impatient. We got all damn night.”

“You hear the sounds she’s making Frank?”

“Yeah, and I’d like to hear a lot more of ‘em you selfish little shit.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. Here you were, trapped between two of the most feared men in Hell’s Kitchen, with both of their mouths and hands all over you, and they were still arguing. Your giggles were immediately cut off however when Matt’s teeth sunk down into the flesh of your neck, a surprised moan taking their place. Frank lightly grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head back against Matt’s chest as he caught your gaze. His tongue darted out to wet his lips quickly, motioning his head towards you.

“You want this, sweetheart?”

All you could do was stare up at Frank with half moon eyes. Your brain seemed incapable of manufacturing a single coherent thought. You were too wrapped up in how good it felt to be caged between them. How good it felt to kiss Frank, to be touched by Matt, to be desired by them both. All you could do was feebly nod.

“Need to hear it, pretty girl. Need you to tell us you want us too.”

Matt’s grip on your waist loosened slightly, his nose nuzzling against your cheek as he softly kissed the underside of your jaw and whispered delicately in your ear.

“You can say no, angel. We can all walk away right now, pretend this never happened. We won’t be upset.”

“We never wanna make you uncomfortable, honey. Just wanna make you feel good.”

“Would you like us to make you feel good, sweetheart? Take care of you for all the times you’ve taken care of us? Whatever you want, we’ll give you. Just tell us what you want.”

“Please…”

Frank’s large hand loosely wrapped around your neck, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip slowly as he stared down at you with a timid smile.

“Please what, sweet girl? Hm? Use your words. You want us? You got us. We’re yours. Just say the words.”

Matt slipped his hand underneath the hem of your sweater, tracing slow delicate circles along your hip as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. He placed a featherlight kiss to your burning skin, the edge in his voice from earlier now gone as he whispered sweetly.

“We’re all yours, angel. Always have been. Just tell us you want us too.”

Matt and Frank both put an inch of space between their bodies and yours, as if they could sense how difficult their presence was making it hard for you to think clearly. They were giving you an out if you wanted it. You knew this would completely change everything between the three of you. There would be no going back to how things were before. This decision was permanent, and couldn’t be undone. But God, did you want it. You wanted them. You were momentarily suspended in disbelief that they wanted you too, but you were having an arduous time focusing on why they wanted you, when they had come to this agreement regarding you, and what the morning would look like. The only thing your brain could process was the pure, irrevocable yearning you felt.

You trusted Matt and Frank with your life. You knew you could trust them with your body. The safest you ever felt was in their presence. The safest place you could ever be was confined between them. You wanted them. You loved them. You needed to be consumed by them.

“I need both of you, please.”

If either of them heard the aching in your divulgence, neither of them acknowledged it. Matt’s fingertips brushed lightly along your sides as he pulled your sweater over your head, eliciting a domino of shivers throughout your body. Your own trembling fingers gingerly pushed Frank’s torn and bloodied shirt up, careful to avoid his fresh injuries along the way. As you sought out his lips, his large hands maneuvered your hips until you were face to face with Matt, his nose brushing against the column of your throat.

“Help Red outta that damn thing, would ya? Otherwise we’ll be here all fuckin’ night.”

A furrow formed between Matt’s brows and his lips parted to protest, but his words were quickly cut off when you grabbed his face to crash your lips together. His hands gripped onto your waist just above where Frank’s had settled, a satisfied groan echoing on your tongue. Matt’s kiss was hungrier, more possessive and needy than Frank’s, and it made your head spin. As your fingers worked at the zipper on Matt’s suit, Frank’s were swiftly popping the button on your jeans and tugging your own zipper down. He left a searing trail of open mouthed kisses from right beneath your ear to down along your shoulder as his large hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties. Greedily peeling the material of Matt’s suit off his broad shoulders, you instinctively bit down on his bottom lip when Frank’s index finger made contact with your clit. Matt moaned at the feeling of your teeth holding his lip captive, shoving the rest of his suit off with impressive speed leaving him only clad in black briefs with a noticeable tent.

“Goddamn, sweetheart. You’ve got these completely soaked through. I guess Red was right.”

You could feel Matt’s prideful smile against your own mouth at Frank’s words as you threaded your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him even more flush against your own body. He groaned again in satisfaction at the gentle tug, and you were suddenly curious what other delicious sounds you could pull out of him. Before you could experiment, Frank slipped one of his thick fingers inside of you and a loud moan filled the empty space.

“Fuck she’s tight. Gonna have to get you nice and ready for us, yeah? Think two oughta do it, Red?”

“She’s been such a good girl, Frank. Let’s give her three.”

“Hm, she has, hasn’t she? S’pose that way we both get a taste then.”

Your head fell back against Frank’s chest as he pumped his finger slowly, already rendering you a whiny incoherent mess. You could just briefly register Matt kneeling before you, grabbing the waistband of your jeans and tugging them down your legs. His touch was lighter when his fingers slipped underneath the sides of your panties, trailing them along your skin with more precise teasing. Matt rubbed his nose along your inner thigh, humming softly as he ever so languidly pulled the fabric down your legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He gently brushed his fingertips over your ankles, along the sides of your calves, up the backs of your knees, until he had a firm grip on your thighs.

“Looks awful pretty down there on his knees for ya, don’t he?”

Frank was right. Matt did look good on his knees before you, head tipped back and eyes closed in content, lips parted slightly as he inhaled your scent from the source. Suddenly you wanted both of them on their knees for you. Or maybe you wanted to be on your knees for both of them. You reached out with a trembling hand to grab a small fistful of Matt’s hair, moaning softly as Frank slipped a second finger inside you.

“Look so pretty, Matty.”

Matt’s eyes fluttered open, staring blankly up in your direction as a toothy grin took over his entire face showcasing your beloved dimples.

“Not as pretty as you, angel.”

“I think Red deserves a little treat for bein’ so patient, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Yes, Frankie.”

“How ‘bout that, Red? You want a little taste?”

“God, yes.”

“On your feet. You take over.”

If you hadn’t been so wrapped up in your own pleasure, you would’ve been amazed at how quickly Matt followed Frank’s command without an ounce of hesitation or complaint. You whined momentarily as Frank’s fingers slipped out of you, only to quickly be replaced with Matt’s index finger and his thumb pressed firmly against your clit earning another loud moan from you.

“Open your mouth.”

Once again, Matt quickly complied, parting his plump kiss bitten lips. Your walls clenched around Matt’s finger and a pathetic moan slipped out as you watched Frank shove his two fingers drenched in your slick straight into Matt’s mouth. Matt’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when your taste met his tongue, eagerly sucking every single drop off of Frank’s fingers. Frank grunted quietly near your ear as Matt moaned softly around his digits. It was the hottest fucking sight you had ever seen.

“Attaboy, Red. Tell me how she tastes.”

Frank retracted his fingers from Matt’s mouth slowly, leaving his lips shining with a coat of spit. His hand quickly found its place once again between your thighs and there seemed to be some kind of unspoken understanding between the two as Matt twisted his wrist to make room for Frank’s hand, allowing Frank to take over stretching you apart as his own fingers worked over your clit to help bring you to your release.

“So fucking good, Frank. Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever had. You’re not gonna be able to get enough.”

“Like I said, we got all night.”

You could die like this, trapped between two walls of soft skin and hard muscle, their skilled hands working together to bring you absolute bliss. You were thankful they had you completely trapped between their chests because otherwise, you wouldn’t have been able to stand. The pleasure was absolutely overwhelming. It was everywhere, all at once, and you weren’t sure if you could survive the fall. You had never felt anything like this. You didn’t even know you could feel like this. That little bubble that normally built up inside you was now simmering like a giant pit of lava inside a volcano dangerously close to erupting. You couldn’t even form the words to warn them, but with the undivided attention of Matt’s senses, you didn’t have to.

“She’s close, Frank. Keep doing that, right there. That’s it…hold her steady. It’s alright, angel. Just let go for us. We’ve got you, sweetheart.”

“Go ahead, darlin’. C’mon, let us hear those pretty sounds. Don’t hold back, honey. Let us have it all, yeah?”

The edge was painfully far away, just within reach. You were so goddamn close. It just felt too fucking good. You didn’t know if your body was holding out because you just couldn’t handle it, or because it wanted more. Just when it felt like you couldn’t make it, suddenly you were exploding into a million little pieces of gratification and being hurled into the free falling space of absolute bliss. Two pairs of strong hands supported you as you spasmed from the force of the pleasure. Two voices echoed praises and sweet nothings into your ears as you floated outside your own body. Two hearts thudded against your back and chest in sync as they adorned you in their affection.

Rough calloused fingertips trailed along your cheekbone tenderly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as soft lips traced the shell of your ear.

“Shh. We got ya, sweetheart. We’re right here, yeah? Easy now, breathe.”

Matt wrapped his arm around your lower back, hooking his other underneath your knees as he pried you from Frank’s embrace and lifted you up bridal style, holding you against his chest.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Frank. Get undressed. I’ll take her to bed.”

You weakly brought your hand up to Matt’s neck, wrapping your fingers around the cross necklace that settled between his collarbones. The metal felt surprisingly cool against his heated skin, and the deep inhale you took to control your breathing filled your senses with his intoxicating cologne. You carefully traced one of the scars on the left side of his chest with your fingertip as you crossed the threshold into his bedroom.

“Matty?”

“Yes angel?”

“I like it when you and Frankie get along.”

“Tell him to quit bein’ such a shithead all the time, and you’ll get more of it.”

“And here I was about to be nice and let you have the first taste, Castle. Why don’t you get on your knees and put that fucking mouth of yours to good use. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Matt carefully set you down on the edge of the bed, moving to sit right behind you with his chest pressed flush against your back. You noticed the commanding tone he used with Frank was the exact same one he used in the courtroom when he wasn’t in the mood for bullshit or rebuttal. For the millionth time that night, you were shocked when Frank simply grunted in response instead of verbally retaliating, lowering himself down onto his knees in front of you. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of Frank nearly naked before you. You had seen him shirtless a few times when he needed fixing up, but never only in briefs before. The fabric clung to his muscular thighs like a second skin, and it made your mouth water the exact same way it did whenever you saw Matt only in his underwear. Your brows furrowed slightly at the sudden realization that Frank had done exactly what Matt instructed in the living room. Since when did they ever follow each other’s orders? And so easily?

“Spread those legs, angel. Let him see you.”

Frank moved in closer towards you as you obeyed Matt’s order, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs even further apart. His large hands slowly made their way from your knees to your inner thighs, his thumbs tracing the softest circles along your skin. You had always wondered about Frank and what he would be like intimately. For a guy who could take down thirty men with his bare hands without batting an eye, he was incredibly gentle. His touch was delicate and reassuring, like he was afraid he might break you, but wanted you to know he was there. Matt wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you tightly against his chest, his other brushing your hair off your shoulder as he kissed your neck softly. He was more like what you had expected. Dominant and possessive, like he had something to prove. Whether that was to you or himself, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was both. He wanted you to know you were at his mercy, and that you belonged to him. Well, him and Frank.

The only exception to all of Matt’s rules seemed to be Frank now that you thought about it. He was willing to ignore his own moral compass and religious teachings in certain situations involving Frank. He came to Frank’s defense constantly, even if he knew he was in the wrong and would personally give him shit about his choices later. He relinquished control earlier in the living room and followed every single one of Frank’s commands, something he would never do with anyone else. Frank seemed to be the only person Matt willingly submitted to. And despite his overprotective nature, he was sharing you with Frank. Matt seemed to be Frank’s own personal outlier as well. Frank always worked alone. He hated involving other people in what he did, not wanting to deal with the risks and consequences, and just another person in general. It was easier when all he had to worry about was himself. But he had no trouble dragging Matt into the flames at a moment's notice, and never hesitated to reach out to him for help or backup. No matter how much they fought, Frank always purposefully put himself between Matt and whatever threat was coming their way, even if it was just some drunk asshole in a bar trying to pick a fight he knew Matt could easily win. As much as they argued, Frank did actually listen to Matt most of the time, and Matt secretly took Frank’s advice when he knew he was right. They were both just too fucking stubborn to admit that to one another.

“Now who looks pretty on their knees, hm?”

“Frankie does.”

“Tell him, angel. Tell him how pretty he looks on his knees for you.”

You reached your shaky hand out to cup Frank’s cheek, sighing softly at the way he nuzzled his face into your palm. His deep brown eyes were hooded with lust as he stared up at you lovingly, causing your heart to constrict in your chest. He really was beautiful, especially when he smiled. It had taken so long for Frank to open up to you, for you to get to see the happier and more carefree side of him, hear him crack jokes and his amazing laugh. It was always like witnessing some cosmic phenomena, and it made you feel incredibly lucky he wanted to share those parts of himself with you.

“Look so pretty, Frankie. So pretty.”

A lazy grin captured Frank’s lips as he looked at you, turning his head slightly to press a gentle kiss to your palm.

“Thank ya, sweetheart. But I gotta agree with Red here. Ain’t nothin’ as pretty as you.”

“Tell me what you see, Frank. Describe her for me.”

Even though it was a demand, there was an echo of desperation in Matt’s voice. Frank’s eyes softened a little more as they flickered behind you to Matt’s face, the smile faltering on his lips, lingering only for a moment before he let his eyes trail over the expanse of your body. The look was so quick, you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been paying attention.

“She looks beautiful, Red. So goddamn beautiful. Let me show you.”

Frank spent the next few minutes describing you from head to toe in explicit detail like you were a piece of art on display in Matt’s lap. He gingerly wrapped his hand around Matt’s wrist, directing his fingers along every inch of your body in sync with his own words. Your heart swelled at how gentle Frank was being with Matt, and how much Matt trusted Frank with his own concealed vulnerability to guide him. You weren’t sure if it was your own shuddering breaths or Matt’s that were echoing in your ears at the mix of both men’s hands tracing your skin. Frank’s gruff voice nestled between your thighs as he spoke, as if he was reciting poetry to create a clear picture in Matt’s head. You grabbed onto both of their wrists and squeezed gently, nearly on the verge of tears from how overwhelmed you felt by their shared affection for you and for each other. Matt’s voice was almost hoarse as he spoke quietly.

“Thank you, Frank. Now show her how beautiful she is.”

For the next hour and a half, Frank and Matt took turns on their knees with their heads buried in your needy cunt. They alternated spots, one pressed up against your back teasing your nipples and fondling your breasts with their mouth latched on your neck as they praised you while the other held your hips hostage against their face with your legs over their shoulders, using their skilled tongue to bring you to euphoria.

Frank took his time with you, slowly delving his tongue inside you over and over as his large nose continuously bumped against your clit. His grip was firm, but tender, letting you rock your hips against his face as much as you wanted as you tugged him impossibly closer by his dark tresses. He grunted every time you pulled at his grown out hair and the vibrations had your thighs quivering and sent your mind into a frenzy. He drew your orgasm out as long as he could, groaning against your core as he collected every single drop of the ambrosia that he wrung from you.

Matt tried so hard to take his time with you, but he was so overwhelmed by your scent and his own carnal desire that he couldn’t help himself. He had Frank restrain your hands as he edged you, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he dug his fingertips into your skin. He sucked fervently on your clit, filling the bedroom with obscene slurping sounds as he devoured your pussy. Frank helped hold you in place so Matt could get what he wanted. Every time he could feel you about to come, Matt would slow down and give himself a moment to breathe before diving right back in. He didn’t want it to be over so fast, but he also wasn’t fully able to contain his own selfish need. He would’ve stayed buried between your thighs all night if you let him.

Eventually Frank couldn’t take your pleading cries of his and Matt’s names anymore and lightly slapped at the back of Matt’s head. When he went to pull away again, Frank grabbed a fistful of Matt’s hair and shoved his face right back into your cunt.

“C’mon Red, listen to her. Let her come. You’ve had your fill, you can come back for more later. She ain’t goin’ nowhere. Let her have it.”

As you descended from your third orgasm of the night, your body felt completely spent. Your eyes felt heavy as you struggled to keep them open, not wanting to miss a second of this spectacle. If this was a one time thing, you wanted every part of it burned into your memory for later, because nothing would ever be as good as this. Frank shifted slightly behind you, and you felt the hardness of his cock brushing against your lower back. A slight gasp left your lips once you realized just how long both of them had been patiently waiting for their own attention. Matt had already been completely hard when he removed his suit, and you had felt the bulge in Frank’s jeans against your ass. A spark of energy jolted you awake as you were suddenly filled with the urge to have your own turn on your knees.

Frank’s grip tightened on your waist when he felt you move at the exact same time as Matt’s hands clamped down even harder on your thighs.

“Where you goin’, sweetheart?”

“I…what about you and Matty?”

“What about us, angel?”

“I wanna make you feel good too.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout us, honey. Red here is finally gonna make it to heaven when you let him inside that pretty little pussy of yours.”

“And Frank is gonna be so fucking satisfied when he comes inside you, he might not be a complete asshole for an entire week.”

You tried your hardest to wiggle out of their grasps but it was no use. They were a lot stronger than you, and they weren’t budging. You whined as they both chuckled at your pathetic attempt to escape them, seeking out the erect tent in their briefs with your needy hands.

“But I wanna touch…I wanna taste you both, too. Please?”

“This is s’posed to be about you, honey.”

“No, that’s not fair. This is for all of us, not just me. It’s just as much for you and Matty. Isn’t it? Don’t you want my mouth, Frank?”

“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart, course I do.”

“Don’t you Matty?”

“I’d love nothing more than to fuck your mouth, angel. But I’m afraid right now, I’m way too fucking hard, and I wouldn’t be able to last. I don’t want to come unless it’s inside you.”

“I gotta side with Red on this one, darlin’.”

“But-“

Matt’s hand quickly wrapped around the base of your throat as he leaned in to capture your lips, cutting off your protest entirely. He applied just enough pressure to make your head spin, nipping lightly at your bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue.

“Next time.”

Your eyes flew open, grabbing onto Matt’s wrist tightly as he loosened his grip on your neck. He was sitting up on his knees now so that you were face to face, a tender smile tugging lightly at the corners of his mouth. Blinking a few times, you turned your head so that you could look up at Frank.

“Next time?”

Frank glanced down at Matt before looking back at you, a shy smile taking over the left side of his mouth. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips, placing his hand at the base of your neck right below where Matt’s was.

“Next time.”

You immediately gave up on your protest and allowed Frank to pull your body up the bed as he moved backwards. You felt giddy with anticipation, your brain going completely haywire as both of their promises rang deafeningly in your ears.

Next time. There was going to be a next time.

“How you feelin’ honey? Think you can give us one more?”

“Yes…yes anything.”

Matt chuckled lowly at the desperation in your voice as he climbed onto the bed in front of you.

“Such a good girl. Still taking care of us when it’s our turn to care for you. Tell you what, if you help me out of these, you can touch me. But you have to help Frank too. Can you do that for us, angel?”

“Yes, God yes. Please Matty…let me help.”

“Alright sweetheart, go ahead.”

Your nimble fingers dragged Matt’s briefs down his thighs as soon as he finished his sentence, causing you to gasp when his cock finally sprang free and slapped against his stomach. A quiet sigh of relief left his lips. The head was nearly as deep in maroon as his suit and leaking with desire. As you wrapped your hand delicately around the base of his impressive length, a louder declaration of appeasement slipped past Matt’s lips, jaw going slack and hips jolting forward when you swiped your thumb across the sensitive tip.

“Fuck.”

“Easy darlin’, Red’s sensitive. He’s been waitin’ patiently this whole time like a good boy. Ain’t he? Be good to him.”

Matt let out a quiet whimper, and you weren’t sure if it was from Frank’s words or the way you were gently pumping your hand around his cock but it had your walls fluttering either way. You could tell Matt was doing everything he could to not fuck your hand, bottom lip caught between his teeth so hard blood pooled beneath the skin, hips stuttering ever so slightly in time with your movements. His face was a mix of lingering agony and pure pleasure and it piqued your curiosity about just how sensitive he was.

“Are you okay Matty? Do you want me to stop?”

“I…just-shit…fuck that feels good. I-”

“Make him come, sweetheart.”

“Frank-”

“Don’t be stubborn. You’ll be ready to go again in five minutes and you know it. Stop fuckin’ torturin’ yourself. Go ahead and give him your mouth, darlin’.”

“But that’s not-”

“Would you just shut the hell up? You ever stop talkin’? Consider it a goddamn peace offerin’. I can wait. I’m not as sensitive and overwhelmed as you. Just fuckin’ take what you’re given, shit. You’re gonna come in two minutes anyway.”

“God-fuck…fine. You get to fuck her first, then.”

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya. Sweetheart, be a good girl and do as you’re told. Let Red have your mouth.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as you parted your lips to take the head of Matt’s cock into your mouth, he was shoving himself down your throat. His hands frantically gripped onto your neck and the back of your head, holding your face in place as he fucked your mouth relentlessly. You opened your mouth as wide as you could and hollowed out your cheeks, wanting to provide him as much pleasure and satisfaction as he had given you. The moans and whines of appreciation that tumbled from his mouth were fucking music to your ears. He looked so beautiful above you, head thrown back in ecstasy and eyes squeezed shut in absolute content. A loud slap cut through Matt’s symphony of fulfillment and his eyes snapped open, slowing the pace of his hips considerably as his brows furrowed in confusion. It took a moment for you to realize that Frank had slapped one of Matt’s hands away from your face.

“Slow down, Matthew. I said use her mouth, not suffocate her. Ease up.”

Your stomach clenched at the hardened warning tone of Frank’s voice. It was also the first time you had ever heard him call Matt by anything other than his nickname for him. Something about it seemed so intimate, and it set your insides ablaze. Matt tipped his head down in your direction, clenching his jaw as he struggled to gain control of himself.

“Fuck…sorry angel, I’m-shit…God just feels so fucking good. Your mouth is so warm…soft. Shit- if this is what your mouth feels like…God-”

You hummed in response, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze and beginning to bob your head to signal for him to keep going. It only took a few more thrusts before warmth coated the back of your throat with a vengeance over and over as Matt finally climaxed. You thanked whatever God was listening that you got to witness the exquisite sight above you of Matt Murdock having an orgasm. It made butterflies erupt in your belly thinking about how soon you’d get to witness the exact same phenomena with Frank Castle.

Matt fell back onto his heels as his chest heaved, panting like he had just ran a fucking marathon. A swell of pride filled your chest as you swallowed every single drop he had offered you, a newfound wave of confidence settling in your veins at the sight of him disheveled before you knowing that you had done that to him. You had brought the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen to his knees and rendered him breathless. And you had no intention of stopping there.

All night, both of them had been trading control with each other, taking turns in making demands. You weren’t in the mood to trade or take turns. You were in the mood to take.

As you turned around to face Frank who had a cocky smirk on his lips, you channeled all the power surging through you and shoved roughly at his chest until his back hit the mattress. His body bounced slightly from the impact, the arrogance long gone as his mouth fell open in surprise.

“Take those off.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I said take them off, Frank. Be a good soldier and follow your orders.”

Frank’s jaw hung suspended in disbelief. His eyes widened at your command and his pupils dilated slightly. Shock was written clearly across his features, but he obeyed anyway. The second his briefs were down his thighs, your hand was wrapped firmly around his massive cock and he grunted lowly in response.

“You both asked me what I wanted, didn’t you?”

“Yes but-”

“And I said I wanted to touch, didn't I? That I wanted a taste of my own?”

“But we agreed-”

“I changed my mind. You both got to play. It’s my turn. You’d never deny me, would you, Frankie?”

“Angel, we all agreed-”

“Shut up, Matthew. I wasn’t speaking to you. I asked Frank. Frankie, baby?”

“Fuck, course not.”

A cheshire grin split your lips as you slowly worked Frank over in your hand, reveling in the feeling of his velvet heaviness in your palm. His eyes were trained directly on you, watching your every movement. Besides his lust blown pupils and parted lips, he wasn’t giving anything away. The man had been trained to withstand all kinds of torture with an impeccable poker face, but you weren’t having any of that.

“Good. You’re always so good to me, Frankie. You’ve treated me so well tonight, and I know you wanna keep doing that. Don’t you? You wanna fuck me, don’t you?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“Then you’re gonna let me play. I can’t have one of my boys taken care of, and not the other. Matthew gets a pass tonight. He was so worked up for so long, and we know it’s hard for him to keep control sometimes. But you’re very good at control, aren’t you Frankie? You’re gonna let me have what he wouldn’t?”

“Yeah…whatever the hell you want.”

“Good boy. Matthew, sit next to Frank. No touching, just listen. You better be ready to go by the time Frank comes in my mouth. Do you understand?”

“Yes…I understand.”

“That’s my good boy. You’ve both made me so proud tonight. Getting along, taking turns, being so good to me, being so good to each other. When I get done with Frankie, we’re all going to get what we want. I can’t wait to have you both. I’ve wanted both of you for so long. Just be patient a little longer, Matty. Let me take care of Frank. He hasn’t gotten to come yet tonight, and that’s not fair to him. Is it?”

Matt crawled around you towards the headboard, settling back against the pillows next to Frank as he stretched his legs out. His chest was still rising and falling rapidly, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes darted back and forth blankly. His cock was already half hard as he shook his head slowly, lightly fisting at the sheets beside him.

“No…no it isn’t. Let him. He deserves it.”

If you could take a picture with your eyes, you would frame the magnificent sight before you above your fucking bed. Frank and Matt, in all their nude glory, shoulder to shoulder beneath you, mouthwatering cocks standing at full alert waiting for your attention. It was impossible not to be filled with condescension when the two most powerful men in all of New York that could easily tear you apart with their bare hands were willingly submitting to your dictation.

Frank stared you down as you lowered yourself between his massive thighs, wrapping your lips around the swollen head of his cock to take into your mouth. He sucked in a deep breath, thighs tensing beside your head as you took him deeper. He was bigger than Matt, which was to be expected due to his stature, but you were determined to fit as much of him into your mouth as you could. You took your time at first, swirling your tongue around the tip slowly before sliding him back down against your tongue. You marveled at the shuddering breaths released from his mouth, but you wanted more.

“Don’t be shy, Frankie. I wanna hear your pretty sounds too.”

It hadn’t taken much to figure out Matt was the more vocal of the two, but you were adamant about breaking Frank’s composure. A quiet grunt sounded from him as you squeezed your hand around the section of him that wouldn’t quite fit in your mouth.

“Tell her how it feels, Frank.”

Matt sounded almost breathless as he spoke, and his eyes were wild with hunger as you glanced over at him.

“Feels good, sweetheart. Feels real damn good.”

“C’mon Frank, you can do better than that. It’s just us. Let it out like I know you can.”

Matt’s words had a fresh wave of arousal slicking your inner thighs. You had so many fucking questions for them. There was clearly something here you were missing. Something they were keeping from you, and you desperately wanted to know everything. Frank’s eyes never left yours, and they were growing darker by the second as if something was brewing behind them. It made your stomach twist with anticipation. You flattened your tongue against the slit on his tip, sucking fervently on the head as your hand twisted around the rest of him. Frank groaned loudly as he weaved his fingers through your hair, giving it a gentle tug.

“There you go. You can pull harder, she likes that. Don’t you angel?”

You moaned in response around Frank’s cock, causing him to let out a heavy grunt as he pulled roughly at your roots. His hips had started to shift upwards in rhythm with your movements, and you’d let him do whatever he wanted as long as he kept making sounds like that.

“Goddamn. You know how to use that mouth, yeah? Shit-no wonder he came so fast.”

“Just think about how good the rest of her is gonna feel. How pretty does she look right now?”

“So fuckin’ pretty. Fuck…wish you could see her. Looks so goddamn good with those pretty lips wrapped ‘round our cocks. Wish we could trade eyes for a minute.”

Only Frank Castle and Matt Murdock were capable of saying such filthy words that also simultaneously warmed your heart. Matt’s lips curved upwards in a delicate smile composed of pure admiration, and it made you melt. You reached your hand out that wasn’t working on Frank to grab onto one of Matt’s, lacing your fingers together and squeezing gently. Frank choked out a moan of surprise when you suddenly took him as deep as you could, feeling his tip brush against the back of your throat and holding him there for a minute until you had to come up for air.

“Fuckin’-shit…do that again. Fuck please…please sweetheart.”

Bracing your palm against Frank’s thigh, you took him once again as deep into your throat as you could, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose. A cry of your name tore through Frank’s chest as he gripped roughly onto your hair, and all at once a steady stream of heat coated the back of your throat. Frank bucked his hips slightly as you swallowed around him, squeezing Matt’s hand tightly as Frank released himself from your mouth.

“Fuck, I want next.”

“Jesus Christ you insatiable bastard, you already had your goddamn turn.”

Matt threw his head back against one of the pillows as he burst into a howl of laughter, bracing his palm against his chest.

“That was before I knew she could do that.”

“Well if you hadn’t been so fuckin’-”

“Boys, please. We’re not finished here.”

“I need a minute, darlin’. Think you just sucked the fuckin’ soul outta me, Jesus.”

Matt absolutely lost it, doubling over in a fit of laughter as your cheeks flamed with heat at Frank’s words. You couldn’t help but giggle, trying to cover your mouth as Frank shot you an insincere glare coupled with a coveted smirk. You hadn’t even noticed Matt had moved behind you until you felt his hands on your waist and the warmth of his breath on your neck.

“Alright, sweet girl. How about you and I start, hm? I bet Frank will be ready to go once he hears those pretty noises of yours. Besides, he likes to watch.”

A sudden gasp flew from your mouth as Matt guided you to straddle Frank’s hips, wondering how the hell he possibly knew that about Frank. God you were reeling with questions.

“I thought he was fucking me first?”

“That was before he got to come. He’s not left out anymore, is he?”

“I…no.”

“Castle?”

“Go ahead. Be with ya in a minute, sweetheart.”

Frank shot you a wink that would’ve made you fall to your knees had you not already been on them. Matt placed his palm on your lower back, pushing gently so that you were bent over Frank slightly. Frank grabbed onto your hip with one hand, his other coming up to brush his thumb along your cheekbone slowly as he stared up into your eyes. The tenderness and desire in them was so dizzying, it was almost overwhelming. You gripped onto Frank’s shoulders as Matt carefully pushed the blunt head of his cock past your folds, gasping sharply at the slight burn of the stretch.

“Shh…I’ve got you. Just relax for me, sweetheart.”

Matt’s lips brushed delicately along the shell of your ear, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself. A slow moan cascaded from your mouth as he sank his entire length into you, his hand gripping tightly onto your other hip. Matt rested his forehead against your back for a moment once his hips were flush against your ass, an incredulous moan emitting from him.

“Breathe, honey. He’s gonna take care of you, yeah? Ain’t gonna hurt you.”

Frank grunted quietly as you dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped indentations as Matt fucked you slowly from behind. Matt had brought his other hand up to loosely wrap around your throat, pressing his front firmly to your back so there wasn’t even a centimeter of space between you. Matt growled in your ear and it had you clenching around him tightly.

“Fuck sweetheart…feels even fucking better than I ever imagined. So warm…so tight. Take me so fucking well, angel. So fucking well.”

“Matty…”

“You can take Frank too, can’t you?”

Your eyes flew open and you stared down at Frank almost in panic. Matt made you feel so deliciously full. You could feel every ridge and vein as his cock dragged along your walls. You stared down into Frank’s eyes anxiously, all your confidence from earlier seemingly evaporating from your pores. Frank smiled softly up at you, leaning in to brush his lips against yours.

“S’okay if you can’t honey. If it’s too much, s’alright.”

Could you handle them both? The thought seemed ridiculous. Your body was designed to push out a small human, of course you could. But you were nervous. Your cunt had a vice grip on Matt, and Frank was bigger. It would burn, but God it would feel so good once that sting went away. You couldn’t imagine having one without the other. Not anymore. You wanted them both.

“Please Frank…I-I can. I can.”

Matt pressed his cheek against yours as his hand tightened slightly around your neck, digging his fingers a little harder into your hip.

“That’s our girl.”

Frank searched your eyes for any hesitation. He pushed your legs further apart with one of his knees, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing the head against your clit a few times. Your body jolted forward at the sensation and Matt groaned loudly in your ear.

“Gonna have to move her a bit.”

“Here.”

Matt pressed his hand against your back until you were laying flat against Frank’s chest, putting his knees on either side of Frank’s. He grabbed onto your hips firmly, raising them a bit so that your back was arched slightly and your ass was pressed against his lower abdomen. Frank gripped onto your waist, pressing his forehead against yours as he positioned himself beneath you.

“Deep breath, sweetheart.”

As Frank pushed the head of his cock through your folds to join Matt, your mouth dropped completely open. Matt stilled behind you as Frank eased his entire length into you inch by spectacular inch. Your mouth still hung open, but you couldn’t make a sound. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head, and you had to squeeze them shut as you tried to remember how to breathe. A burning sensation seared between your thighs as they both stretched you apart from the inside. It felt like they were fucking splitting you in half. It was almost too much. Matt’s fingers loosened around your throat and his deep voice echoed in your ears.

“Breathe, angel. Let us know when we can move. Take your time.”

You sucked in a gasp of oxygen like you had just emerged from the pits of the ocean. They were everywhere. You could hardly tell where one of you ended and the other began. Frank leaned in to kiss you softly, cradling your face in his large hand. Matt once again slipped his hand between you and Frank, carefully tracing circles over your clit to combat the pain with pleasure. You had never felt so full. So content. So loved.

One of your hands reached behind you to grab onto Matt’s neck as your other gripped onto Frank’s shoulder. You experimentally tried rocking your hips, crying out from the sting of the stretch and the jolts of pleasure that followed.

“God…please…please…”

Matt and Frank started to move their hips in tandem slowly, keeping an intricate pace as you adjusted to having both of them inside you. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. You slowly felt your muscles begin to relax as the tension dissipated, your body feeling looser as pleasure began to overtake the pain.

“How’s that feel, sweetheart?”

“So fucking good, Frankie.”

Frank’s lips stretched into a proud grin as he brushed his nose against yours, holding your face in his large hand.

“Knew you could, honey. Didn’t we?”

“We knew you’d take us so well, angel.”

Matt pulled back slightly as he felt you getting more comfortable, and your body accommodating them both more easily. He situated himself on his knees behind you, gripping onto your waist tightly.

“Now, ride him while I fuck you.”

Without warning, Matt started snapping his hips against your ass as he drilled into you from behind. A strangled moan of surprise bellowed from your chest, and Frank reached out to grip your waist to hold you steady. You braced your palms flat against his broad chest, whining loudly as Matt pistoned relentlessly inside you. His hand came down hard against your ass and he growled in your ear.

“I said ride him.”

“You heard him. C’mon sweetheart, take what’s yours. Make yourself come on my cock. Show us what a good girl you can be.”

You had half expected Frank to come to your defense like he had throughout the night, but it was like you were back on the roof. Frank was backing Matt, and you had an overwhelming desire to please them both. Gripping onto his shoulders, you began to rock your hips back and forth against his quickly, struggling to find your rhythm with the way Matt was fucking you roughly.

“Matty…please…”

“Move with me, angel. You can do it. Come on, make us proud.”

Frank held onto your waist with one hand and folded his other arm behind his head, staring up at you with the biggest grin on his lips. He was barely moving his hips, letting you do whatever you wanted above him. Matt was right. He did like to watch. He had been letting you and Matt take control for the most part, and right now all you wanted him to do was lose it.

“Please Frankie…please fuck me. Please fuck me like Matty…please…I need your help. Can you fuck me like him?”

Frank’s eyes darkened considerably at your words, and you could hear Matt snickering darkly behind you. Maybe you were wrong about Matt and Frank. Maybe Matt was the one that didn’t hide what he was. Maybe Frank was. Matt hadn’t held back once this entire night, but Frank certainly had. Maybe you didn’t know Frank as well as you thought you did. Maybe there was a part of himself he was concealing. Whatever it was, Matt clearly knew what you were in for better than you did.

“Come on, Frank. She wants to play with the Devil and the Punisher. Let her have it. She’s a big girl, she can handle it. We said we’d ruin her, so help me ruin her.”

Your heart pounded so quickly in your chest you thought it was gonna give out. Frank wasn’t smiling, he was smirking. But it wasn’t the crooked mischievous one you had come to love. No…this one was sinister, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Alright, sweetheart. You asked for it. And whatever you want, you get.”

Frank gripped roughly onto your waist to lift your hips before he began to snap his own upwards against yours at an almost inhuman pace. A scream flew from your mouth as he fucked up into you roughly in perfect harmony with Matt who was repeatedly railing into your from behind. You couldn’t form words. The sounds coming from you were downright pornographic and salacious and barely coherent. You grabbed onto his forearms for support and dug your nails so deep into his skin you were shocked you hadn't drawn blood. All you could do was hang on as Frank and Matt did exactly what they promised; they absolutely fucking wrecked you.

The grunts and moans coming from both of them were feral and almost animalistic, tearing from the most primal depths of their chests. They were both gripping and kneading at your flesh with such ferocity, like they couldn’t feel enough of you. You were eager to see the marks they had left tomorrow morning. Frank repeated over and over how good you were, showering you in praise that starkly contrasted with the way he was fucking you. Matt’s fingers never once left your throat, occasionally applying just enough pressure to make you lightheaded. He poured indecent and filthy words into your ear about how perfect you fit around his cock and how badly he wanted you to come so he could fuck you all over again.

It was beginning to be too much. You couldn’t even hold yourself up on your knees anymore. The only reason you hadn’t collapsed was because Frank still had you suspended above him.

“You gonna come for us, sweetheart?”

“Yeah she is. Any minute now…right angel?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even nod. All you could do was hang on and fall further and further into Matt Murdock and Frank Castle. Matt chuckled lowly as he pulled your head back against his chest by your neck, brushing his nose along your cheekbone as he inhaled your scent.

“Think we’re fucking her too good, Frank. She can’t even talk.”

“Goddamn if you could see how she looks right now, Red. S’alright pretty girl, we got ya. Go on and make a fuckin’ mess on us. Don’t you dare hold back, yeah?”

“Hold her steady like that Frank. I got her.”

The second Matt’s finger made contact with your clit, you combusted. Your pussy clenched so hard around both of them that it almost hurt. A blinding supernova exploded behind your eyelids and your body suddenly became a live wire, convulsing with every tiny spark of touch. Your lungs burned as you struggled to breathe and all at once you felt like you were floating and made of lead. The distant echo of Matt loudly moaning out your name and Frank howling deeply for you rang in your ears. Your heart fluttered at the thought of your insides being turned into a breathtaking mosaic as the two men you loved most in this world painted you with the most intimate parts of themselves.

There was an irrefutable peace that settled in your bones once your body stopped shuddering. It felt like you were floating in the middle of the ocean. All the noises around you were jumbled, like your head was underwater. You could just barely make out two voices calling your name. The midnight sky above you was suddenly flashing neon purple and blue, and the twinkling constellations drifting around in front of you morphed into two sets of eyes swirling with deep hazel and dark cocoa.

“There she is. Had us worried there for a bit, sweetheart.”

Frank’s voice was clear in your ears now. As you blinked the haziness away, both him and Matt finally came back into view. The light from the billboard outside Matt’s apartment was projecting a kaleidoscope of violet and cobalt on the ceiling. You had no idea how long you had been incoherent, but the expression on both of their faces and Frank’s words had you blushing profusely.

“Hi.”

Your voice was hoarse as you spoke. It didn’t even sound like it belonged to you. Both of them exchanged a knowing glance, Matt’s mouth splitting into a wide dimple showcasing grin as he chuckled.

“Hi pretty girl.”

“You alright? Was that too much?”

“I’m amazing. That was…perfect.”

”Hell, I think we can all agree on that. We were worried you weren’t comin’ back to us for a minute there though.”

“I’d never leave you two. I’ll always come back. Promise.”

“Frank, could you grab her a glass of water?”

“Sure thing, Red.”

A tender smile spread across your lips at the way Frank squeezed Matt’s shoulder before making his way out of the bedroom. Matt tilted his head in your direction, eyes fixated almost on yours as he smiled in response. His hand came out to gently cup your face, brushing his thumb lightly along your cheekbone.

“Where did you go?”

“What?”

“We did lose you there for a few minutes. We kept saying your name, but you were somewhere else. Where did you go?”

“The stars. Another universe, I think.”

Matt laughed out loud as his grin stretched even further over his mouth, moving to lay beside you as he propped his head up on his other hand.

“We missed you.”

“I found my way back as soon as I could.”

This was the most at peace you thought you had ever seen Matt Murdock look. His hair was disheveled and out of place and his cheeks were lightly twinged pink, but the smile that graced his mouth was absolutely blinding. He looked…happy. Genuinely happy. You couldn’t help but surge forward and capture his lips in a deep kiss. You could feel his smile against your mouth and the warmth of his skin as his hand settled on your waist.

“Round 2 already? Shouldn’t we wait for Frank?”

“I love you, Matty.”

Matt’s smile faltered only for a second, his eyes widening at your confession. His lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. The bed dipped behind you, and you turned your head to see Frank’s gaze shifting between you and Matt.

“I think you broke him. What’d I miss?”

“I love you, Frankie.”

Frank stilled momentarily, swallowing thickly as he brought the glass of water to your lips and placed his hand on the back of your neck as you gulped generously.

“Sweetheart-“

“Wait…just, let me speak. I mean it. I love both of you. I think I always have I just…if this is a one time thing, that’s okay. I just wanted you both to know. Tonight meant the world to me. I’ve never felt so…happy. No one’s ever treated me so well as you two have and…I really do love when you two get along. I hope that’s not part of this “one time deal” thing. So, Matt Murdock…Frank Castle…I love you. Both of you. If tomorrow morning you both decide you want to act like this never happened-“

“The hell you talkin’ about? Didn’t we say there’d be a next time?”

“Well…yeah but that was-“

“Angel, this isn’t a one time thing. I don’t know about Frank, but I can’t go back to before. Not after I’ve finally had you. It's not a one time thing for me.”

“It ain’t for me either.”

Silence hung heavy in the air after the weight of your confession settled. You suddenly felt self conscious about what you had just admitted, and the urge to run away had your fingers twitching at your sides. Matt tenderly wrapped his hand around your wrist, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stared in your direction.

“I love you, angel.”

Frank slipped into bed beside you, draping his arm lazily over your waist as he brushed his nose along your jawline and pressed a soft kiss to the edge of your mouth.

“And I love you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes darted frantically between the two of them, still trying to wrap your head around all of the events that had transpired tonight.

“So…what now?”

“I don’t know ‘bout you two, but I’m fuckin’ exhausted. I say we get some sleep.”

“Frank’s right. It’s been a long night. Let’s get some rest. We can talk in the morning.”

“I’m sorry…did you just…say Frank was right?”

“Don’t start. I’m too tired to put you in your place, and I don’t think you can handle any more than what we’ve already given you.”

Matt’s tone submissed you into complete silence. Frank chuckled lowly beside you, and you caught his smirk as you met his gaze. He gave a light shrug of his shoulders as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He may be tired but he ain’t bluffin’. If there’s anything he can do better than take a beatin’ it’s give one. I suggest you behave, sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes for a second as you pressed your thighs together, and Matt groaned loudly beside you. Frank laughed as he pulled the covers over the three of you, snuggling close into your backside as Matt pulled your leg over his waist to get you as close as possible to his chest. For several minutes, you all laid there in comfortable silence, enjoying the feeling of Matt and Frank’s warmth against your skin and the sound of their steady breathing with a promise of more bliss tomorrow.

“Goddamn, you weren’t kiddin’ about that fuckin’ billboard. You ain’t ever thought to get some curtains?”

“Why would I have a use for curtains, Frank?”

A loud laugh escaped your mouth at Matt’s deadpan before you had a chance to stop it, and Frank’s hand suddenly clamped over your mouth.

“Obviously they ain’t for you, shithead. What about us?”

“Fine. We’ll look at curtains tomorrow. Happy?”

“Fuckin’ peachy.”

Thirty seconds. You had thirty seconds of more comfortable silence before they were back at it.

“You’re fucking joking, right? I mean you can sleep through bullets and explosions and the desert sun, but a billboard is where you draw the line?”

“It’s right there in the goddamn window, Matthew. For fucks sake, you got a fuckin’ rave goin’ on right now. It might not bother you-“

“Well obviously it can’t bother me Frank-“

“Boys, please. Frankie, you’ve literally slept in far worse conditions. Matty…it is a bit much. We can deal with it tomorrow. Can we please go back to you two being nice to each other and cuddling?” Both of them grunted halfheartedly in response, but it made you smile nonetheless. Because they were your boys. Yours. And no matter how much they drove you, and each other, absolutely crazy, it was all out of love. You loved them. They loved you. Nothing else really mattered.

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meraki24601 · 4 months ago

Text

Indulge Me for a Moment

Caretaker knew who Hero was the first time they stepped into their apartment. The flimsy mask they wore as part of their costume barely covered any of their features, and the limp they’d sported that day matched what they had seen on TV. Though, considering they hadn’t wanted to scare a potential roommate away, they hadn’t mentioned it. Hero seemed happy and perfectly capable of taking care of themselves, so Caretaker let them keep the apartment as a sort of safe zone.

Later, Caretaker would swear it wasn’t them who changed things. Hero was the one who brought work home in such a way Caretaker would either be cruel or just a fool to ignore it.

Back from work later than usual, Caretaker had seen the fight between Hero and Villain. It happened outside their office; how could they not have seen it? They saw the hits Hero had taken to protect innocent civilians. Particular interest was taken in how Hero convinced the emergency responders they didn’t need medical aid.

The smell of bleach, weakly covered by scented spray, met Caretaker at the front door instead of their cat, Pounce. Hero’s quiet voice in the kitchen only added to the disturbing greeting, “‘M making ramen. W'nt some?”

“I think I’m alright.” Caretaker sighed. They made their way to the kitchen, nearly tripping over Pounce, stationed just inside.

Hero had never come home that beat up before. They always had some carefully crafted “regular citizen” excuse for any minor injuries and would claim a work trip or family visits for the worse ones that needed time to heal. This was bad enough that even the cat knew better than to take their eyes off Hero.

Caretaker shook their head at the clumsy wrapping on Hero’s arm, the two large regular band-aids slapped on their forehead that had already bled through, and the steady growing stain on Hero’s side. They had no idea why Hero hadn’t gotten someone to care for them like normal. It seemed it would be up to them, “Hey. You okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, citizen. You don’t need to worry about me.” Hero whispered. They leaned forward to rest against the counter and stared down into the too-large pot of water on the stove. The burner hadn’t even been turned on.

Yes, this time, it was really up to Caretaker to save their Hero.

The first-aid kit was in the bathroom. Caretaker trusted Pounce to watch Hero while they went to get it. As they had suspected, the small room was the source of the bleach smell. Presumably, Hero had made a decent effort to clean up their mess despite their condition, but there were still a few splatters of blood around. They had taken the trash out but left it outside the front door, so Caretaker had seen it anyway and hadn’t replaced the bag. Even the first-aid kit had been left a mess.

It didn’t matter. Caretaker would set everything right once Hero had been put to bed. Though mixed up and a few items were scattered, the kit had everything they needed for the time being.

Pounce’s meow echoed in the small space as Caretaker reentered the kitchen. Hero was now completely bent over the oven, arms bracing them on either side of the pot. They seemed fixed on how the small but steady drops of blood from their nose disappeared into the water.

“Hey,” Caretaker called. “Come sit.”

Hero didn’t seem to hear them. They looked moments from collapsing. Though Hero’s hair hid their eyes, Caretaker saw tears had begun to join the drops of blood in the pot.

At that moment, Pounce decided she’d had enough. The cat bounded over to Hero’s side and raised up on her hind legs to lovingly claw at the back of Hero’s leg. Her strangled meow was overwhelmed by the sound of Hero’s pot smashing against the opposite wall and crashing to the floor. It was too much for both cat and human, but Pounce was the only one composed enough to run out of the room.

“You’re safe!” Caretaker cried as Hero collapsed on the floor in front of the oven. “Can you hear me? Breathe. You’re alright.”

Whining into the hand covering their mouth, Hero curled in on themselves. The low squelch the action caused made Caretaker sick. They had to move this along. Consequences be damned.

Caretaker whispered each move they made out loud. Scaring Hero again would be bad. Likely very violent, too. Unfortunately, the only way they could think of getting Hero’s attention might potentially turn out even worse. Even the sound of them setting the first-aid kit on the floor nearby made Hero flinch.

Raising their voice only slightly, Caretaker decided to test their luck. “Hero.”

It seemed that Hero had never once suspected Caretaker knew who Hero was. The shock of hearing Caretaker use their hero name was enough to pull Hero out of the depths of whatever memory they had been drowning in. They didn’t react more than looking up dazedly with a soft frown.

“Hero, It’s okay. You’re safe.” Caretaker didn’t dare move so much as an inch.

“No.” Hero’s voice was rough. Barely half of what it had been when they called out to Caretaker only moments ago. “I’m not…”

“May I touch you, Hero? You’re hurt.”

“I’m not—”

“Enough. It’s alright.”

A slow tear rolled down Hero’s cheek. Caretaker had expected to hate the look Hero would fix on them once the secret was revealed—anger, disgust, betrayal, etc. They didn’t plan on fear they saw there.

“You don’t know. You’re lying. This is a dream, a nightmare.” Hero fell forward on their hands and knees. Blood sprayed the floor below them as Hero’s groans turned to deep chest-rattling coughs.

Caretaker didn’t bother to respond. Instead, they picked up the damp rag they had brought, lifted Hero’s head, and gently wiped away the blood and tears. Hero didn’t fight the touch, so they kept working. Removing the sloppily placed bandaids and cleaning the cuts was simple and quick.

When Caretaker tried to move on and unwrap Hero’s arm, Hero pulled back with a barely audible “Wait.” So Caretaker did. They sat back on their heels, supporting grip still on Hero’s arm but not moving until Hero nodded. Caretaker could do this at Hero’s pace. They didn’t let the way Hero kept flinching away from even the softest touch drive them away.

Once Hero’s arm was bandaged correctly, Caretaker pulled Hero into their arms. “It’s alright, Hero. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

“But why?”

Keeping their grip on Hero steady, Caretaker lowered Hero to lie on the floor. They were glad they’d mopped it earlier. “Don’t worry about that right now. We can worry about answering questions once you’re feeling better.”

Hero’s fist tightened in Caretaker’s shirt. They barely had the strength to keep their back from pressing against the floor. “Why?”

Caretaker shook their head, “Trust me, Hero. Indulge me for just a moment longer.” They lifted Hero’s shirt, barely catching them as pulling the fabric away from the untreated wound sapped away the last of Hero’s strength. “We both have questions that need answers before tomorrow comes. For now, let me save my hero.”

Version 2

#whump fic #whump #whump scenario #whump writing #whump ideas #whump tropes #hero #caretaker #hurt/comfort #secrets revealed #weak hero

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carmyberzattosjournal · 1 month ago

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Entry 25: Some for the Chef

(No visual aid; Z is very tired)

Bearblr Promptober Day 25: Size Kink (sub: Praise Kink(?))

Summary: Carmy finally figures out the duck with apple pairing for the next month's menu, and his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) has some complements to offer him. Fluff

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of trauma, comfort, finger-sucking, Fem reader who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns, does this count as a praise kink? Oh well (1162 words)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

25 Oct 2024

I don’t know how to take complements.

I get weird about it, okay? World spends enough time beating you up for shit, then—what?—someone just says something nice about you? The fuck am I supposed to do with that? Where’s the insult? Where’s the backhand?

It’s worse when it’s something I have no say over. Like since getting the fuck out of that house, I’ve gotten maybe 40 or 50 complements on my eyes. I get it, they’re huge (kind of creepy, honestly, why do people like them?), electric blue—almost an unnatural blue, but my eyelashes fall off into my eyes constantly because they can’t do their fucking job, I’ve had dark circles since I was ten, my eyebrows give up at the halfway point, I have that annoying little mole right under my eye, and if they don’t look cadaverous, they look irritated from all the shit in the kitchen or straight up fucking psycho.

I didn’t make them. I didn’t have any input into my stupid fucking owl eyes. Stop fucking complementing me on them.

“Oh my God, this is amazing,” Darling mumbled, grabbing the knife to get another slice of duck breast.

My back killed something fierce, but the pain momentarily vanished. My face hurt, I was smiling so broadly. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm! Fuck me.” She hadn’t even finished chewing her bite and was already cutting another. “Carmy, baby, this is so good. I’m so proud of you.”

Food? Food I could take a complement on. That felt like a complement, like a recognition of the effort I put into learning this craft. I’d been working on this duck with apple pairing for well over 2 weeks. I needed it by the next morning. It was my last real shot to get it right, and in a spurt of anxious energy, I got home from service with a haul of groceries and got right to trying the next iteration. It kept getting too sweet, like candied ham—only candied duck breast, which wasn’t the worst, but it wasn’t right. I wanted more of the gamey notes from the duck breast, that slight metallic aftertaste. Didn’t want it getting drowned by apple.

“Woah, woah there; leave some for the chef to try,” I said, rifling through the drawer for another fork.

“No, no, come here, sweetheart.”

She hooked my chin, brought the morsel of duck to my mouth. I did expect it to taste good—fuck me, it was perfect, moist, tender, savory, gamey, sweet, tart, rich but still fresh—but the abrupt sinking heat in the pit of my stomach, that burner-like flame that sparked to life when I met her adoring expression as she fed me the bite of food? That. That caught me by surprise.

She looked proud of me. Sure, I was still getting used to her saying it to me (it still felt weird as hell but also fulfilling whenever she said it. Or when Sugar said it. Wait, has she been talking to Sugar? Have they been coordinating?), but seeing it on her face, those little crinkles in the corners of her eyes when she smiled, that cute little head tilt—it fucking sent me. My face went hot like it did when I first talked to her, I got dizzy for a moment. My heart slammed into my ribs. I wanted to see that face again, her being proud of me. Maybe it says a lot about the shitty fucking life I’ve had, but I would chase that feeling, the flighty, floaty feeling I got when Darling looked proud of me to the ends of the Earth if I had to. I need it. I need it like I need water to live.

Joy? Is this what joy feels like?

“It could be the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” she murmured. She put the fork down, then picked it up, then put it back down.

It might be the second-best thing I’ve ever eaten. “Yeah. Yeah, the splash of apple cider in the duck stock when making the demi-glace was the last thing.”

Oh, and then the tension left. I didn’t realize how much being stuck on the last item for the menu change was weighing on me until the stress winding me tight as a pulled bowstring snapped, and I plopped into the nearest dinner chair. In an instant, my entire body felt heavy. It could’ve been made of lead. My eyes refused to stay open, stung like I got pepper in them, my temples throbbed, my hands ached from holding the knives and from washing them so many times. My back hurt so bad that I’m pretty sure I groaned in pain. My shoulders ached, the space between my shoulder blades and my spine prickled with pain, my ankles hurt. Why did my ankles hurt? And why was my face even hotter? Was I about to have a panic attack?

Darling nudged my knees apart and nestled herself between them, wove her hands in my hair, brought my cheek to her chest.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she whispered.

I tried coiling my arms around her, but my hands barely made it to her thighs. “Hi.”

“Aw, did you run out of power?” she cooed.

“Mmm. I’ve been up since 4.”

“I know.” She worked her fingers in circles over my scalp, setting off goosebumps. Cool. Mercifully cool. “I woke up because I got cold.”

I found the strength to pull her in, nuzzle into her sweater, and inhale her scent. “’m sorry, baby girl. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Can you look at me?” she whispered.

Yes. Yes, anything, of course.

I peered up at her.

She traced her thumb along my cheekbone. “I’m never going to get over how blue your eyes are, pretty boy.”

I take back what I said about complements. Please, say it again. Please. Please, tell me what else you like. Call me pretty boy again. She brushed some of my hair off my forehead, cupped my face, and—I don’t know what came over me, okay, fuck off—I slid her hand down and sucked her thumb into my mouth. I just needed something, some kind of sensation, something to focus on as the noise of the day disengaged. Quieting down was still hard for me—maybe it’d be hard for my entire life—but fucking hell, I just needed something to trace with my tongue. It set off this hot, fuzzy feeling in my core, the inverse of a panic attack, that tightness I got when she moaned my name. No, no, it was that feeling I got when she made that high-pitched whine right before she tumbled into an orgasm. That deeply sated, yet still-somehow-starved brimstone that landed in the pit of my stomach as if dropped from the sky.

She cooed, kissed the top of my head. “What are you thinking, sweetheart?”

I’m thinking about making you whine for me, pretty girl. How’s that sound?

#cb journal #bearblrpromptober #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #the bear #carmen berzatto fluff

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callahanisms · 6 months ago

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your desire

got inspired, so here's something for steven grant. because i love awkward autistic oscar isaac.

pairing: steven grant x gender neutral! reader

for vibes: "venus" by bananarama

you were in london for a phd program. you wanted to pursue a doctorate in art history and work with repatriation. after all, every place deserved their stuff back.

especially from the british museum.

you lived in a simple flat across from the sweetest man you've ever met: steven grant.

now, aside from how tired he was and the sometimes weird things you'd wake up to coming from his apartment, he was a good neighbor.

at one point, he even helped you unlocked your door after you had left your keys in the apartment. you rushed to get out of the apartment as fast as possible and came back near 1am without your keys.

"i didn't even know i could do that." is what he said when he successfully gets your door open. you were sure he was joking. he was being genuine.

the dating scene in london wasn't...well, the state of dating was bad in general. especially considering that half of the world literally disappeared and then came back, including your own brother. your father died thinking he was dead permanently, leaving you with a soft spot and a desire to pursue a fulfilling relationship.

why wait if you might die tomorrow? there was always another world ending event around the corner.

perhaps developing a crush on your attractive neighbor was not the way to go.

none of the people you went out with had steven's smile. had his curls. had his smile. had his nose. had his little information dumps that you adored.

but from the interactions you guys had, it seemed the destiny might be platonic. which hurt your soft, romantic heart.

you were about to retire for the night since you had class the next day. that's when you heard mumbling outside your door. peeking through the peephole, you can see the man looked downtrodden. he was holding some flowers and a box of chocolates.

you opening the door surprises him. he nearly jumps out of his skin. "(y/n)!"

"hey." you lean against the doorway and cross your arms over your chest. you were wearing some comfortable lounging clothes: a tank top and some fuzzy pants with hello kitty designs. "everything okay?"

"huh? yeah. i mean..." he purses his lips and sighs. "got stood up on a date." again.

you understood all too well. you lost count of how many dates you went on and they just didn't show up. not even a text to tell you they weren't coming, or to ask for a rain check. wasting your time. and being general dicks.

the state of dating was not it.

"i'm sorry. i'm sure there was a reason." perhaps there was. perhaps there wasn't. there was no point in thinking about it.

"yeah. well, good night!" even when upset, there was still a pep in his voice.

watching him pull out his keys made you feel...sad. you didn't want him to spend time alone.

"how about you come in for a cup of tea? that way you don't have to eat the chocolates alone."

steven turns around. there's a sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you, making you melt.

"i'd like that. a lot."

you move aside to let him in and close the door behind you. he removes his shoes, setting them on the side and you take his jacket to hang it up.

steven sits at one of the seats at the kitchen island, watching you pull out your kettle and fill it with water, before placing it on a burner. you adjusted the flame to a medium.

"you want some cake? i have some left. it's lavender lemon." you ask, pulling out two mugs. you love the way his face perks up. one of them was a mug from the gift shop with an egyptology theme.

"i think i'll be fine. but it's kind of you to offer."

"okay. what about tea?"

"do you have chamomile? kind of...basic but..." he would like a sleep aid.

you don't say anything. you just smile at him and grab the box from your cabinet. you place a bag in each much, discarding the proper trash. "so...you wanna talk about it?"

steven spends the next few minutes talking about his feelings. it felt good for him to unload and vent just a little bit. he held no ill will towards his date. just some frustration about how his romantic life has hit a brick wall. something was always getting in the way of him pursuing a relationship. something was always happening. he was always screwing up. perhaps he was the problem.

in the middle, your kettle was screeching. so you turned off the burner and poured it into the mugs, letting the tea steep.

you can't help but relate. with all the people who stood you up, you wonder if you are the problem. were you that unlovable, that undatable, that people can't even tell you they weren't coming?

steven stops talking when he notices the way you're looking at him: with intensity. you look like you want to tell him something. "what is it?"

"what? you can keep going."

"you want to say something. your lip is twitching." he gestures. he takes a sip of his tea.

"well...i don't know if..."

"go on. you can say it."

you take a sip of tea before looking at him. "it's not your fault. none of it is."

steven's smile is sad. "you don't have to say that."

"i mean it. steven...i know it feels like it is. hell, i relate a lot. sometimes it feels like you're the problem because no one else wants you. but it's not your fault. i think you're...pretty cool. and amazing."

he blinks slowly, almost like a cat. he's busy just looking at you, admiring your features. your beauty. and your warmth. not many people would invite people over just to vent.

"it's all good to vent. but i also think it's important to...think of it as redirection. like my dating life sucks but my studies are going well. and i'm going to be published."

"r-really?" he watches you walk over to the record and set your mug down. you look through the vinyls and pick one.

"yeah. academically too. so i get academic validation. which isn't everything, but it's certainly nice." it was important to get your work out there. you turn the player on, place the disk, and then drop the needle.

your body movies instinctively. you recognize the synth beat, picking up your mug and moving your hips. "this was my dad's. he really like british 80s synthpop." you turn to steven and take a sip of your tea.

he was trying his best not to stare, not to watch the way your hips moved. it was mesmerizing. he wasn't one for dancing. he was not the best at following a rhythm.

you dance over to him and gently take his hand. "come on steven."

"i don't think so." he sees your pout. "okay, okay."

he gets off the stool and lets you guide him to the middle of the room.

your hips move. your body is unchoreographed. you weren't really a dancer. but you can't help yourself. you spins a few times, bathing in the casualty of it all. and unknowingly bathing in steven's love filled gaze.

you look deep into his eyes. his soft brown eyes. and your eyes glance down to look at his lips. his soft looking kissable lips.

could you be bold? could you make a move? was it appropriate to make a move? you take a sip of her tea and sets the mug down. "steven..." you bites her lip as the music keeps playing.

"y-yes (y/n)?" he could feel his cheeks warm up. especially as you step closer. your bodies are nearly touching.

you gently cup his face with one hand and pull him by his waist so his body is against yours. you could feel your own body against his. it was quite arousing.

you leans forward and kiss him softly, pulling away for a second only to kiss him again.

"i like you." you mutter against his lips.

steven doesn't know what to do. he's hesitant. because you want him. and maybe he wants you. but do you really want him? was it just the heat of the tea? or the music?

"you...you like...me?" surely there were better men. better people.

your eyes soften. "yes. i do. i like you. i like you a lot steven." the music appears to fade to a soft lull. your heart beats in your ears. perhaps you made a mistake.

"i know this is sudden. and maybe it's inappropriate considering that...you just got stood up and i invited you in my home and it seems weird and terrible honestly. and if you don't like me back that's fine. you can just tell me and i'll stop and you can go..." you begin rambling nervously. your mouth runs faster than you could comprehend.

he has to set his mug of tea down.

you stop talking when he presses a finger against your lips. he feels how soft they are. and is tempted to trace your lips with his finger. "don't...don't you dare stop."

your lips curled into a smile and he removes his finger to kiss you. his hands rest on your hips, trying to bring your bodies closer.

a small moan escapes you, feeling him grind up against you. his kisses are fervent, as if he's trying to taste you.

your back hits the edge of the tv stand, causing you to giggle. you let him kiss you, parting your lips so his tongue slides in. they dance for what feels like an eternity.

you manage to pull away and turn around so he's against the tv stand. then you tug him along, heading straight for your bedroom.

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu #moon knight #steven grant #gender neutral reader #female reader #male reader #x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x gender neutral reader #fluff #somewhat steamy #use your imagination

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lushlovers · 2 years ago

Note

hi my love! would you possibly be interested in writing a joe blurb/one shot (whichever fits best) where the reader is alone/at home or something and gets injured and we see some fluffy, lovable panicked joe when he finds out? thank you!!

Who's Cutting Onions, J Burrow

summary; you really wanted to make him something nice but you aren't the most steady-handed...

warnings; mentions of injury with a knife, knives in general, blood, anxious and protective joe, domestic fluff!

word count; 330

note; if anything mentioned in the warnings sounds remotely triggering for you please sit this fic out, i have plenty of others coming out and already available for you to read. that aside, thank you nonnie for the request, i had loads of fun writing it for you:)

Cooking never has been your specialty, but when it comes to impression Joe in any way possible, you're quick to jump to do so, even if it meant preparing something in the kitchen. The counters were covered with the various ingredients needed to make your mom's spaghetti recipe.

Whilst your olive oil was heating in the pan, you chose to start slicing your vegetables for the sauce. Everything was going relatively smoothly until somehow your index finger got in the way. The cut was small but big enough to bleed a significant amount.

"Fuckin' shit," you instinctively shake your hand around manically, trying to soothe the stinging feeling shooting through your finger as you run in the direction of the guest bathroom. The spaghetti is long forgotten now, as your next mission is to search the cabinets for Neosporin and a band-aid.

Once located you turn the sink on and let the warm water wash away any remnants of blood on the wound and quickly follow up with some soap. As you're doing so, Joe's making his way into the house, when he passes the kitchen he sees the oil boiling on the stove and rushes to turn the burner off.

When he notices the knife and blood on the cutting board next to it, his heart skips a beat, "Baby?" he shouts, frantically looking around for you. He hears the water in the guest room running and how you yell back that you're in there, he lets out an exhale that he hadn't realized was trapped in his lungs.

"Are you okay?" He questions, obviously worried, and you want to just kiss him all over his flustered face simply for being him. He's always so protective, especially when it concerns you. "I'm alright, Joey, it was tiny," you smile, stepping up on your toes to kiss his cheek, and using your bandaged finger to pull his lower lip from between his teeth to prevent his nervous gnawing at it.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x you #joe burrow fic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fluff #nfl #nfl fan fic

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nomelwelloy · 9 months ago

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Neuvilette & Wriothesley | fluff ideadump

a/n: wishing all a late happy valentine’s day!!

Neuvilette in his dragon form, getting much needed rest in his abode when Wriothesley’s sudden appearance at his door him catches him off guard. To say Neuvilette is a bit embarrassed is an understatement- no one has seen him like this since the early centuries, let alone the Melusines.

He scoots closer to the wall of the cavern and away from his comfortable spot under the sun, attempting to put some distance between them.

Wriothesley splays his hands in the air, explaining he’s there at Sigewinne’s and Clorinde’s request to deliver a care package, and a welfare check, given his rare leave of absence after a particular stressful period of work.

“I’ll just leave it here and go,” he says, picking up on Neuvilette’s discomfort. The usually confident Index averts his gaze, head turned away and his tail coiled around himself.

Wriothesley tries to leave, but he can’t really; the sound of Neuvilette’s laboured breathing and the sight of his discoloured scales make him hesitate. He doesn’t know what dragon scales should look like, but surely it can’t be the dull grey sheen dusting over Neuvilette’s body.

Wriothesley ends up staying, much to the dragon’s dismay. He hasn’t moved from his spot near the wall, but his eyes betray his desire to move back to the sunny spot in the middle of the cavern.

“It’s just me, Neuvilette.” Wriothesley reassures with a hearty laugh. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He tosses his coat to a corner and folds his sleeves, getting to work at tidying the place, sweeping the stairs that lead out of the cavern and whistling absentmindedly as he does. It takes a while, but Neuvilette eventually grows comfortable enough and moves back to his original position, laying his head over his body like a dog blissfully soaking up the sun.

Wriothesley begins brewing medicinal teas and offers Neuvilette the nutritional snacks the head nurse has packed, as well as supplements Clorinde contributed. Neuvilette obediently takes them, bowing his head in gratitude. When Wriothesley runs a hand over his snout, the judge huffs, a puff of warm air rushing around him.

Wriothesley brushes his fur, smoothing through the tangles and later sets up a burner with essential oils to aid him in decompressing. He also, for reasons unknown even to himself, decides to toss a blanket over him. It’s comedically small compared to his giant body, but Wriothesley dusts his hands with a proud beam. Neuvilette has dozed off, his breathing more steadied and relaxed.

The exhaustion is catching up to him too, and Wriothesley lays next to him, eventually falling asleep.

When he wakes, Neuvilette has returned to his human form, naked and curled under the blanket, huddled near him for warmth. Wriothesley pulls the blanket over Neuvilette’s bare shoulder and secures an arm around his waist to hold him closer. His body is warm from the sun, but the air is cool. He can’t have the Index falling sick, not after he’s spent a whole day nursing him back to health, can he?

He lazes a bit more on the mossy ground before helping Neuvilette to his chambers, laying him onto the soft mattress. Wriothesley contemplates staying a little longer, smoothing the creases of Neuvilette’s frown.

It won’t be long before he’s back at the Palais, back to his demanding schedule, to his little residence in the city. Wriothesley wonders if the apartment is too cramped for a dragon, if its kitchen is equipped with whatever health supplements he’s fed him today. He ought to make a trip there one day.

Wriothesley decides he’s in no hurry to leave.

#genshin impact #genshin #原神 #genshin minific #genshin fic #genshin drabbles #neuvilette #wriothesley #neuvilette x wriothesley #wriothesley x neuvillette #wriolette #neuvithesley #nomelwelloy

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years ago

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Eighty-Three Kisses

CEO!Steve Rogers x CEO!Reader

an It Had To Be You tale of tender first aid requested by @anika-ann who thought: I'm not sure why but my heart would MELT upon seeing Steve giving Precious some ⛑ (as such, warning for mentions of blood) WC 1.3k

Not your favorite way to wake up…

Roused in the morning dark of New York winter, Steve’s mom calls him bright and early. She is one of only four people who can evade his Do Not Disturb setting, and as much as you enjoy Sarah, you groan in irritation when Steve has to untuck himself from beneath you in the sheets.

But that’s not where it ends.

He takes the call and walks out to his kitchen. His voice only just becomes inaudible when your mother calls.

Chatty. Mom is chatty way too early this morning, and she wants participation in her gossip.

You get it; your parents are pure balls of excitement about their upcoming trip to NYC to see you and officially meet your boyfriend for the first time, but 6:50 in the morning on a day off is not a great moment to get reciprocation of any amount of energy.

It’s not even five in the morning where your mom is. Come on now.

You hold the phone arm’s length away to scream into your pillow before heaving yourself out of bed. Maybe if she hears Steve’s voice in the background, your mom will think you’re busy and need to get off the call? Maybe standing up will help keep your eyelids raised? You’re so tired, you’ll try anything.

As soon as your butt hits the couch cushion though, your eyes shut again, too comfortable, too quickly. You jump up and meander over to the exercise bike, muttering something about the neighbor Mom’s had this same beef with for a decade, but she’s on a roll now. You barely need to interject an “uh-huh” or “yeah.” Your mother just keeps going.

So you sit on the bike, lazily putting one foot on the higher pedal, and you nudge it. Nothing happens.

Steve rustles the coffee beans into the maker and pulls down plates because if he’s awake, he wants breakfast. He’ll go back to sleep if he can, but if he’s conscious, food should happen. That’s the Steve Standard of a morning ritual. He also has very little input for his conversation, mostly humming every so often.

You hear the crack of eggs against the bowl’s rim and yawn, hiding that sound as best you can from your mother.

Your dad is equally grumbly in the background. He chides his wife with you in solidarity.

The pan sizzling acts as white noise countered by the first whiffs of brewing coffee.

“Of course, I’m listening,” you rush out, leaning forward on the handlebars and mock-bashing your head.

Steve must have turned to watch you because you hear his deep chuckle from across the room.

Absently, you step onto the pedal, thinking it will start rotating as you press down. You don’t realize how high Steve has turned up the resistance until it’s too late. You stand with your full weight on the tiny, shifting pad, and your foot slips right off when the mechanism caves.

Off-balance and crash-landing on your foot, your ankle tweaks out harshly, and the hard plastic grooves for friction scrape all along your bare calf. It hurts like hell but happens so fast that you hardly make a sound aside from hissing.

The phone drops out of your hand as you untangle yourself from the bike and trip down to the floor.

“Honey?” Steve clearly hasn’t seen until “shit” and you hear the pan torn off the burner and his own phone tossed to the counter. “Precious, you okay? What—“

Thin gashes are already red and bleeding all up your leg. The pain is such a tense sting that you can’t manage much else other than biting your tongue and clutching at the wound, but Steve peels your fingers away, ripping the kitchen towel from over his shoulder to apply pressure.

“It’s fine,” you still hiss. “I’m fine, Steve.”

His huge palm and fingers splay across the fabric, his other hand guiding your over to replace them after he coos, “I know. I’m just gonna clean it up. I’ll be right back. Can you hold this? Just there. Good girl. Ok.”

He jumps up and thunders to the bathroom.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on? Hello?”

You look up to where your phone dangles in the water bottle holder by the bike’s handles, but you can’t reach it without harsh sensations shooting around your foot and leg.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you yell toward the phone. “I just fell. I’ll call you back later.”

There’s an incoherent fuss, your dad’s voice joins what sounds like muttering but is more likely a heated argument on the other end, and then the screen lights when the call disconnects.

Steve returns with a little box and a white bottle.

“Ok, precious--" he leans to kiss your knee "--you ready? This part is gonna hurt.”

You pull back the stained towel, lip lodged between your teeth, and Steve soaks a cotton ball. He bares his teeth when you react to the bite of alcohol.

The excess drips down to the mat.

“I know, honey. You’re doing so good though. Just a little more." He tries to move the foot. "Can you—“

“OW!” Like a shot, your ankle cries all the way up to your hip. “Sorry,” you say through threatening tears, “I landed on it wrong.”

Steve’s hand cradles the joint, keeping it still even as he lowers to kiss there, too, his blue eyes worried. “Okay, I’ll get ice for that, but first, we cover this.” He wipes gently at the deepest gash by your Achilles tendon before ripping open a packet of antibacterial ointment. “Just another minute, alright? You’re doing great.”

His rough morning voice and soothing tenor nudge your heart rate back in the right direction.

At least the medication doesn’t hurt. Between treatment and bandaging, he lifts your wrist to his lips and plants a double tap of encouragement.

"So good," he rumbles.

Steve carefully unfolds and layers some gauze across the whole area and carefully tapes the edges. On instinct, you bend your knee to get yourself up, but the tape pops right off when you flex.

“Uh-uh, precious. You’re not doing anything until we get some ice on that.”

You think he means to leave you sitting on the ground, but Steve pivots to a squatting position, tucks his arms beneath your knees and around your waist, and lifts you straight into the air, kissing your cheek for good measure.

Well…all that gym equipment’s been good for something…

He carries you all the way back to the bed, kissing your forehead to force you to relax backward and excusing himself to the kitchen again. A few drawers open and shut. There’s a racket of ice clattering into a bag.

Another light scuttering noise.

“Ma, I gotta go. Yeah, I love ya. Okay, bye.” He rounds the doorway again, compress and coffee at the ready.

Steve wraps a fresh towel over your skin before arranging the ice to lay just right, covering as much curve as possible without too much pressure. By the time he’s satisfied, he’s created a majestic-looking nest of sheets and blanket around your foot.

You chuckle as you blow across the hot liquid in your toasty mug.

This is his near-military precision and focus again, except this time, you are the mission.

Finally, his equally warm gaze meets yours, dawn breaking outside the wall of windows surrounding the corner room.

“Want your phone back?” he asks softly.

You shake your head. “They can wait.”

Everything still aches, the dull throb seeming miles away when Steve grips your thigh before straightening.

“You know, precious, if you wanted breakfast in bed, you could have just asked.”

You shrug, a little embarrassed but very appreciative. This certainly hasn’t been your favorite way to wake up, but it’s not the worst either. Plus, the morning has just begun.

“Sometimes the only thing that gets your attention is a crisis, Captain.”

from this game of "Comfort My Characters"

Thank you for asking!

@bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @rach2602 @patzammit @royalwritersoftheuniverses @supraveng @1950schick @yiiiikesmish

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve x reader #ceo!steve rogers #ceo!steve #ceo!reader #it had to be you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader

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sainamoonshine · 3 months ago

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Okay look. Here's the thing.

When a crisis situation occurs, the best and more effective way you can handle it is to prioritize. And the most annoying and also most dangerous thing you can do is skip steps in the intervention process.

Let's say that the kitchen stove just caught on fire. Here is the logical and safe way of handling the emergency:

Step 1: Remove victims, bystanders and other people at risk from the scene.

Grab the person who was standing in front of the stove and whose arm got burned and pull them away from the flames. Make sure nobody else sticks their hand on there; also physically pull them away if need be, or at the very least give them a clear warning not to go close.

Step 2: Stop the present, immediate danger / prevent the situation from turning worse (AKA secure the area)

Put out the fire. Turn off the gaz and take the pans away from the burners so nothing ELSE catches on fire while you're not looking. If the whole house is starting to catch on fire and you evaluate that it's way above your pay grade / that trying to put out that fire will put you in way too much danger, then evacuate the victim and everyone else far enough away that you are no longer in immediate risk of death or injury.

Yes this step goes before seeing to the victim's burns (unless their arm is currently on fire, in which case stop that fire first thing before seeing to the rest of the scene). Your priority is to ensure you do not get injured/killed while you are rendering assistance, and therefore securing the area is the priority.

If one other person is around, one can secure the area while the other sees to the victim. If two other people are around, then the third person can call for help.

Step 3: Stabilize the victim (AKA prevent the situation from turning worse part 2)

Do whatever first aid is needed so the victim doesn't get worse while you call for help.

Step 4: Evaluate the situation to determine if help is needed + Call for help if necessary

Decide if the victim is burned badly enough that you need help with this, either by calling an ambulance, driving them to the hospital, or asking someone else to come over and help you treat them. If the whole house is still burning behind you, obviously call for help with that too. But in this scenario let's say it was just a kitchen fire and we put it out earlier.

Step 5: The victim(s) gets seen to

Get the victim whatever medical assistance is necessary, make sure to make the rounds with everyone else who was on the scene to make sure they're okay too or if they need something. Maybe they have minor burns themselves or need a good cry. Maybe YOU need a good cry.

Step 6: Post-danger situation handling begins now. Make sure everyone continues being safe while we deal with the aftermath and that "dealing with the aftermath" doesn't end up causing its own form of harm

Find an temporary way to make sure everyone is fed while we deal with the damage to the kitchen. Make sure the victim continues receiving care. Step 7: Clean up the messes that would prevent you from seeing the situation clearly or assessing the true damages

Open the windows to clear out smoke from the kitchen, clean up the soot covering everything

Step 8: Figure out what the fuck happened

Gather testimonies from witnesses, and investigate the kitchen setup to figure out how the fire happened

Step 9: Come up with a plan to make sure it doesn't happen again, or that if it does then stopping the problem is quicker / safer / more efficient

Institute new safety rules in the kitchen, figure out a safer way to arrange the layout so the stove isn't directly under the curtains, decide to switch from gaz to induction, buy a fire extinguisher for the kitchen, if this is a restaurant maybe train the staff better, whatever.

Step 10: Figure out how to repair what has been damaged with your new safety plan in mind

Don't buy a new stove to replace the broken one before you've figured out how the fire happened and how to make it not happen again is what I am saying. Don't get new cupboards installed before you've finished deciding whether you're changing the kitchen layout or not.

Step 11: Make the changes happen.

In comparison, what you SHOULDN'T do:

while the fire is still burning and the cook is clutching their arm and yelling in pain, plant yourself in the middle of the fucking door and loudly complain that we need to renovate the kitchen, and prevent anybody from going into or leaving the kitchen to deal with the fucking fire until they have agreed on your kitchen renovation plan. Immediately start trying to swap out the curtains with better, slightly more fire-proof ones. While the fire on the stove continues to spread. Refuse to move so the cook can retreat from the room and get huffy when they yell at you because they are being emotional 🙄 while you are a bastion of calm and logic. Snatch the phone out of your friend's hands and hang up on the firemen while you explain that putting out the fire would only be a stopgap solution and also they would mess up the kitchen with their hoses, and can't you see that this would make everything slightly more annoying and less tidy. Clearly what we need is a permanent solution, ugh, why can't everybody see that. Be immediately clocked as actively contributing to the danger on the scene by the first responders when they arrive, and be forcefully removed while still arguing about everybody else not focusing on the long-term vision.

#sorry for the long post but do you see what I'm getting at here

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hurlumerlu · 13 days ago

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The waiting game.

A short THK fanfic (AO3)

Kant had winked before his jump.

He had looked pitiful, barefoot in his hospital gown, so out of place on the deck of the boat, and about ready to piss himself – but he had winked. As if he couldn’t leave Bison without giving him one last crumb of connivance, one last we’re gonna be fine. All this had told Bison was that Kant wasn’t so sure of it himself.

Bison hadn’t rushed to the side of the boat, nor watched the waters for a sign, and he certainly hadn’t dived in. He had stuck to the plan – Kant’s plan – and fled the fast-arriving cops.

"Relax", Kant had said on the drive from the hospital. "Kidnapping me was the hardest part."

Alone now, in another car, Bison begs to differ.

But no need for dramatics. Kant’s a great swimmer, and greater yet at getting out of a bind. He had spent an evening demonstrating this skill very literally, back when Bison still thought it was all just games, and it had taken some real creativity to keep him tied-up. It had been worth it, then, to see the confidence give way to frustration, to helplessness, to pleasure.

It’s worth far more now.

Sure, there’s a difference between freeing yourself to show off in bed, and doing the same thing underwater. Panic makes you clumsy and dumb. But Kant’s steady under pressure, right? Even starring down the barrel of a gun, at the wrong end of Bison’s wrath, he had kept his head. One life-threatening situation’s the same as another, Kant would say if he was here.

Then he would add something like "the sea’s got nothing on you, my love", with sly bedroom-eyes, and Bison would bury his fingers in his man’s hair and pull, hard, until – hmm. Maybe not that. Kant would be at the wheel.

Bison would say "you’re going to stop the car" and Kant would only hum, but he’d already be looking for a place to pull over, and when Bison would specify "if you know what’s good for you" he would get that slow widening smile, anticipatory and provocative, and – fuck, Bison hates driving.

Hates it now more than ever, in this busted car on these busted roads with a busted radio, and nothing but the cloying, cloying silence.

The safe house is empty when he arrives, like he knew it would be. Bison had to evade patrols, he took a number of detours and bumpy, winding paths, but Kant will likely have to come on foot, and before that he’ll need to reach one of their supply caches – he also warned that the captain was a canny old bastard and might not be convinced by Kant’s showy execution.

For all Bison knows, Kant is still waiting for the coast to clear.

He could also have gotten lost. He had assured he wouldn’t, that he knew the area well , but every word out of his mouth is a trust exercise, so...

The safe house is empty. Bison was not hoping he’d find Kant there.

He inspects the premises on autopilot. Anyone good enough to locate the place would have shot or arrested him the second he appeared, but Fadel would bitch about complacency, and he’d be right. Bison will have all the time in the world to become slow and unguarded once they’ve all regrouped outside the country.

He can’t grow careless so close to the finish line.

There’s nothing for him to do, here. Fadel would be working on straightening the bathroom cabinet’s door, or fixing the kitchen’s window screen, but Bison doesn’t even know how to try. There’s not much he’s good at besides murder, and nothing that would help now. He’s a decent bowler, a terrific dart thrower, pretty alright with young children. He’s learned basic first aid. He’s a competent waiter and his English’s serviceable. His flirting gets results, though in many cases just looking willing is enough. Mostly, he’s good at killing time.

Usually.

He could clean his gun. He’s already done it twice, and by now all it would do is open the possibility for mistakes in the reassembling, but he could clean his gun.

He doesn’t. Puts it on the coffee table, next to the burner phone that isn’t getting any signal. Bison knew what to expect. They talked about this, he and Fadel, agreed not to contact each other before the end of the week. Everything is going as it’s supposed to.

Any minute now, Kant will walk through the door, grumbling about the heat, or bug bites, or both. Bison will get up slowly from the couch, not daring to let himself believe, but there will be no denying it once they come face to face. He won’t even try to hide his relief.

Kant will get that look, the smug knowing one, with the raised eyebrows and downturned mouth that together form a smile, and Bison will cross the room, press himself against Kant’s salt-smelling clothes and burrow, burrow, burrow, until he’s home.

Any minute now.

#the heart killers #another short fic based on two seconds of trailer footage? yes. another short fic based on two seconds of trailer footage u_u #mine

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justawriterofthings · 8 months ago

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Home Safe

Requested: Can I request a Frank Castle Fanfic? Maybe something where they're together (they also live together) and one night Frank comes home brutally beaten up and the reader treats his wounds as usual but then starts crying because she's worried?

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of injuries

Word Count: 800~

Author’s Note: Ya’ll I’m the worst and I know it. But here’s a requested fic. Don’t hate me too much

Frank had been gone for hours without checking in. You watched him leave the bed with groggy eyes before the sun was even up. Now the sun had set and there was still no word from him. The pit in your stomach had grown exponentially bigger as the day went on, but now that the day was over and Frank still wasn’t home you were beyond worried. “He normally says something by now.” You whispered to yourself, pacing in the living room. The cellphone in your hand was getting warm and sweaty from the iron grip you had on it. you hadn't noticed your fingers turning white from the straining.

There was nothing you could find to relax. Every possible scenario you came up in your head of why he hadn’t contacted you was worse than the last. Most of them ended with him being dead, and with the way Frank operated it was entirely possible. He never told you about his work, but you knew it wasn’t good or safe. All you knew for sure was that he would come home beat to shit sometimes and you would have to patch, disinfect, or stich him up. Most of the time his injuries weren’t too bad, but sometimes you thought it would be better if the hospital saw him. Frank was vehemently against hospitals, which made you worry more.

You decided to make a cup of tea to calm your nerves a little, since it was now four in the morning and there was still no word from Frank. When the kettle started to whistle was when you heard the front door open. Abandoning it completely, the pot still screaming, you rushed to the door. There was Frank, looking like hell, using the doorway to prop himself up.

“Jesus, Frank.” Your voice barely came through the rush of air escaping your lungs at the sight of him. Doing a quick once over, you saw he was dripping blood from somewhere and it was starting to slowly pool at his feet.

“Shut that fucking thing off, Y/N.” Frank’s voice was weak, but you could hear the agitation in his tone. So, you quickly shuffled back into the kitchen and shut the burner off and removed the kettle from the heat. Then just as quickly retreated back to Frank. You grabbed the first aid kit you kept by the front door for situations like this one as he slowly made his way to the couch. You could see he was in pain, and for Frank it must have been bad. You tried to hold back the emotions that came flooding forward at the sight of him this way. You had to be calm to stitch him up.

“You know the drill.” You couldn’t help but choke the words out and this got his attention. Frank stared up at you, aggravated and tired, but you could see some concern behind his hard eyes. He didn’t address it though. Instead, he lifted his shirt off, struggling with his left shoulder. You looked over at it and gasped. “You got stabbed.” It wasn’t a question.

“The other guy got it worse.” His words seemed cold and that’s what sent you over the edge. Tears flowing freely now, you tried to wipe them away but there was no use. “Y/N…” He stated but you just placed a finger on his lips. Nothing he said could make you feel better, not when he was sitting in front of you with god knows how many stab wounds.. or worse. What if something was punctured? How far did he have to walk? Why didn't he call?

You tried to push all the questions down and sit in silence while you patched him up. The tears slowed but your eyes stung and your vision was too blurry to be of any real help. Sighing out a huff in frustration, you got up from your seat and headed to the bathroom, wiping the sorrow from your eyes as you padded down the hall. Once there you turned the shower and called to Frank. Silence.

“You need to clean them.” You called, your voice annoyed he hadn’t answered you. Frank didn’t say a word, you only heard his shuffles to the bathroom to tell you he heard you. it was a little more silence until you finally couldn’t take it. “I want you to stop this.” Silent tears rolled down your hot cheeks. Frank looked up at you with only sadness. “i know.” Was all he had said the rest of the night. You threw different alternatives for work at him and he just shot them down with a disapproving nod.

But you knew, knew deep down this was his life and now it was yours. You had to play nurse on the bad nights. But after the very short conversation and all your tears, he made it up to you in the following days. He promised he would be more careful, he started checking in with you while he was on jobs, even brought you gifts all the nights he was away for longer than a few hours. Anything to ease your worried mind a little he tried to do; because to see you cry over him like that broke his heart and he would do anything in his power to never see you cry like that over him again. He vowed he would make it home safe to you after that night.

#frank/reader #frank castle #frank castle/reader #frank castle imagine #writing #fanfic #fanfiction blog #reader insert #fanfiction #reader insert fics #one shot #requested #reader #the punisher reader insert #the punisher #the punisher imagine

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riddle-me-ri · 2 months ago

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a/n: sooo this is 100% pure self indulgence lmao. As much as I love the main five wholly…I can't help but feel a wee bit more favoritism to Goemon lol. I'm a sucker for the protective and stoic type that can also be silly but tries to be serious most of the time lol. Bonus if he gets shy or flustered around women lol. I understand that canonically speaking Goemon will likely turn away in such a scenario, so there's probably some OOC-ness in that, but I did try to keep him as close to character as possible! Goemon's injuries (and how he obtained them) are based on the ones he gets in Blood Spray because that film broke me and I just really, really, really want to just take care of him and love him and yeah…so hope you enjoy!

Context: You’re the latest member of Lupin's gang. Whenever the gang needed a place to lie low, extra intel, or someone to help patch them up, you were the one they called upon. You always tried to stay ready for whatever they may throw at you…but what happens when the stoic samurai (whom you may have feelings for) of the group comes to your aid after winning a death match and what's to come of your relationship as just more than wounds are exposed.

Content Warning: sensual content (heavy touching, kissing, really soft romantic stuffs), brief mentions of blood and bodily wounds.

Word Count: 3.5 k (oops)

Goemon Ishikawa XIII x F!Reader - Like Real People Do

It was another uneventful evening in your tiny, cozy, humble cabin in the forest not far from the bottom of a gorgeous mountain.

You were going through the motions of making dinner. You always somehow make more portions than necessary, but it left you with enough to keep you fed for the week.

You just never know when the gang may need 6 if they need somewhere to lay low, and they always seem to be hungry.

You have known Lupin and the others for a few years now. You crossed the gang during a heist of your own where both your goals were the same.

And you know what they say about if you can't beat them, join them.

Lupin was thrilled to have another lady ally while Jigen and Goemon weren't too fond of the idea. Fujiko had a mixed reaction between being elated and having a female companion to be envious of having Lupin's attentions possibly deviated from her.

However, after years of consistent aid and comradery to the gang, they slowly came around.

Over the years, it was easy to see how you had a soft spot for the motley crew of thieves. They each had their own personality that either complimented each other or made for amusing banters and creating an abundance of cherished memories.

You could say you've never laughed so hard or genuinely enjoyed yourself as much as when you were with them.

There was always something new but the people stayed the same. You somehow knew what to expect from them while embracing the unexpected from what they got themselves into.

What you didn't expect was a knock on your cabin door. Lupin usually sent a note or called on your burner cell if he or the others were coming.

Your body went rigid. You scanned your surroundings for the nearest pliable weapon. You settled for the cleaver you were using to cut tonight's dinner.

You slowly approached your door when another racket of knocks hit your door.

A deep, strained, but familiar voice called your name through the door. “It's me…”

You furrowed your brows as you slowly lowered your weapon and simultaneously reached for the door handle.

“Goemon?” You turned the door, still tense and ready in case it was some kind of trick, but you knew the samurai's voice anywhere.

Once you opened the door, your kitchen utensil turned weapon fell to the floor with a crashing clatter.

“G-Goemon?”

He was pale. His once warm obsidian irises were bloodshot. The man that would stand tall or sit straight in his neutral meditative pose was limping to the side, slouched over in pain.

There was blood, so much that stained what remained of his trademark traditional clothes. You feared to find out how much of it was his or his enemy's.

He didn't say anything as you flung his arm around your shoulders and got him inside to immediately begin treating him.

You couldn't deny the hurtful pang in your heart at the state Goemon was in.

You're used to the usual stab or gunshot wound, but this was far worse…

Minutes turned into hours as you finally got control of Goemon's bleeding, your heart twisting at just how much blood he possibly lost just getting to you.

You did your best to stitch the deep scar that cut from his right shoulder diagonally to the lower left side of his back.

The slash along his arm was disinfected and tightly bandaged.

The lacerations took priority over the various bruises and minor scabs you also detected…not that there was much you could do for them anyway.

Neither of you spoke a word. The only sound resonating through the living room was the pops and cracks of the ongoing fire.

You didn't want to pry.

Whether it was out of respect for the man that he would tell you in his own time or you were too nervous to find out and feel guilty that you weren't there to help…you weren't sure, possibly both.

“Okay…I've stitched up those wounds as best as I could. Everything's been disinfected and covered up…” You gently patted the covering you put on his back, in some attempt of comfort.

“Thank you…” Goemon grumbled the first sentence he spoke since you allowed him in.

“Don't mention it…that's what I'm here for.”

Goemon hummed in acknowledgment, although it looked like he wanted to say something else.

You bit your lip as a thick silence took over the room.

Whenever heists got hectic or when the gang had to recoup from a setback, you always gravitated towards Goemon.

In all the chaos and mishaps, you could always rely on him to mostly remain calm, and it would rub off on you and allow you to regain control of your nerves.

Goemon, being the bashful man he is when it comes to women, was very cautious and confused as to why you came to him.

When his curiosity got the better of him and he asked you why this is, you said:

“I just…you help me feel safe and calm, I suppose, especially when things sorta get crazy…I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all.” You chuckled nervously.

You remember the way your heart fluttered at his sweet smile and the soft reddening of his cheeks before he turned his head away to shield himself from further embarrassment.

“I…I'm glad I can do that for you…” He responded shyly, still not fully facing you.

His smile widened when he heard your giggle.

From then on, Goemon slowly got more accustomed to your close proximity.

Secretly relishing in the fact you trusted your wellbeing with him despite who he is and what he's done.

You hoped that in some way with Goemon being here and now on the road to healing from his wounds, you're returning the favor by offering a safe space for him.

You got up from resting on your knees behind his back and walked around him to face him.

Goemon was in his usual position, legs criss-crossed, arms crossed, and his eyes closed.

That is until his eyes creaked open to look at you as he felt your presence move around him.

“I-is there anything else you need?” You asked as you tried to focus your eyes on his and not his fully exposed, now bandaged torso.

Goemon closed his eyes as if in thought. He opened his eyes once more and looked at you.

“May I stay? Just for a few days…”

His eyes somehow looked more tired than before, and the slight bags under them seemed heavier…

“Of course…stay as long as you need.”

~~~~~

Goemon seemed to silently accept your offer of staying as long as he needed. Seeing as how way more than “a few days” have passed and he was still here with you.

Not that you were complaining, you enjoyed his presence, and you were able to keep tabs on his recovery.

Plus, maybe just maybe this could be your chance to get closer to the samurai and not worry about being interrupted by the others.

It had been almost a week when Goemon finally opened up to you about how he ended up in the condition he did.

You tried your best to hide the guilt that slowly crept up inside.

The last you heard from anyone in the gang was Lupin and Jigen targeting a cruise with a full casino and only knew that it would likely port where you reside now.

There was no way for you to know how everyone's paths would cross, how the objectives changed, and how the events would play out.

Goemon didn't ignore the crestfallen look on your face as your head fell at the end of his tale with him arriving at your temporary home.

Your eyes widened at the soft, feathery touch that landed on the bottom of your chin.

Goemon gently lifted your head up to face him, his hand quickly falling away from your skin as his eyes met yours.

“There's nothing you could have done before any of those events…you couldn't stop or help me…but in the end…the very end you were here when I needed you the most…and for that, I'm grateful.”

“I-I know it's just…” You sniffled, trying and failing to keep your tears at bay.

It's hard to hear how someone you cared about felt so defeated that he trained himself nearly to death just to almost die by his enemy he swore to defeat and come out victorious but deeply wounded.

Goemon shuffled in his trademark sitting position. He can't recall a time when he's seen you get upset. He instantly determined he didn't like seeing you cry.

You began hastily wiping the tiny tears at the corners of your eyes on your sleeve. “T-thank you for telling me…I'm so glad you came and that you're here now, Goemon.”

He nodded firmly with a warm hum.

As night fell and you wrapped up cleaning the dishes from that night's meal, you settled behind the samurai to do a nightly check-in on his wounds.

You pray he doesn't notice your fingers resting longer than necessary along the scar currently rising against his skin across his back. The lingering caresses, a faux test for any pain or tenderness to the healing wound.

Each opportunity to touch his bare skin for originally medicinal purposes has now turned into tiny indulgences…

It’s not often Goemon is openly vulnerable or trusting to many others, but you swelled up with the fact that he seemed to trust you.

You wish you could just wrap your arms around him, hold his hand, run your fingers through his hair, kiss him…love him fully and openly…

Goemon glanced at you over his shoulder. He softly whispered your name, noticing your far away eyes.

“Hm?” You looked up and were surprised to see Goemon looking at you. “Oh, uh…sorry, I got lost in thought…”

You quickly stood up and took a gander around the room. You tried and failed to find anything to occupy your mind away from the colleague, currently half naked, sitting on your living room floor.

“Is there something wrong?” Goemon asked, looking up at you.

You broke from your reverie when you realized what your actions may have unintentionally told him.

“No, not at all. Everything's fine,” You found some composure to sit across from him again on the floor.

“Your wounds are healing nicely, and there's no signs of an infect-”

“That is not what I meant..” Goemon, cut off your sentence.

“O-oh…still there's nothing wrong…nothing for you to worry about..”

“If it troubles you, I worry.” Goemon said, as he pulled up the top of his kimono over his shoulders.

Such a profound statement, yet he said it so casually as if he was discussing the weather.

You could feel your heart beat rapidly against your ribcage. Your eyes shifted around as if you could find the answer in the various cuts and dents in the wooden floorboards.

Goemon called your name once more.

You looked to him immediately, obediently.

“If you wish not to discuss it…I understand, but I would appreciate it if you did. Perhaps I could be of help.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly. How could he possibly help when he’s the reason for this dilemma in the first place.

You closed your eyes as you sighed, as if in defeat.

You lowered yourself onto your knees as you rested on your haunches in front of him.

His eyes seemed to soften as he gave you a small contented smile, hoping this was you finally opening up to him as he has to you.

“I’m…not sure where to start…” you whispered dumbfounded to where to begin.

From the very start or when he first walked through your door? When you first felt butterflies around him or how you weren’t ready to let him leave you, which you knew was inevitable?

You stared down at your hands, and one hand cupped the other as your fingers linked and unlinked from each other. You never felt so helpless and over something so…juvenile as having feelings over someone you have now known for years.

Were you ready to risk that partnership? You may not be able to work with Lupin and the others if this confession goes downhill. The last thing you want is to put anyone in any awkward positions.

Another pair of hands reach out and cradle your own. Somehow, it felt like you finally ascended from the vastest depths of the ocean.

You followed the hands, up to the arms, up to the handsome face of Goemon. He seemed somewhat unsure, with a slightly crooked smile and side shrug. Yet his eyes seemed certain and adamant as his pupils never darted away from yours.

“I…I don’t want you to go…” You admitted with the relieving breath you released. “I enjoyed having you here with me…just the two of us…and I can’t say I won’t worry about you when you’re gone, not that I never did before but…I just want to be with you. I’ve wanted to be with you for a long time now…” You glanced down at your hands as they switched out from under his grasp to replace with your own before squeezing his hands in earnest.

You kept your head down, somewhat worried you would lose your nerve otherwise. “I've tried to ignore it…tried to suppress it. Knowing the life we live, there's really no room for…romance at least not the fleeting, giving and taking kind…and you deserve better than that.”

Goemon softly shook his head in disagreement, but he let you continue.

“And I don't ever want to be in the way of your training, your journey. I don’t want to hold you back…but since you came to me…I've just tried to enjoy the time I had with you alone while I could…”

You looked back up with a sad side grin. “Pretty selfish of me…huh?”

This time, you noticed Goemon shake his head. “If anyone is selfish, it's me. I could have left at any time, but I chose not to. I, too, wanted to stay with you longer.”

“Why?”

Goemon's eyes shifted from side to side as his cheeks flushed. “I was hoping it would be obvious…”

He slid his hands out from yours but quickly interlocked his fingers with yours, finally properly holding each other's hands.

“I also long to be with you. Dare I say, for the amusement being with Lupin and the others has given me, in addition to the occasional disdain-”

This comment made you giggle.

“-You somehow always brought peace. I could rely on you for moments of solace even in the more tense of situations…”

“You're thoughtful and compassionate especially towards me and to…not expect something from me in return…”

“I never wanted anything from you, I just…”

Goemon's thumb softly caressed your own. “I know…”

Your heart swelled, but instead of anxiety inflating it, it was the pure adoration you had for the samurai. The adoration you have tried to keep on a leash and hoped for the longest time it would fade, but now it’s present and prospering with each second you were with him.

There was a beat of comfortable silence as you both enjoyed the feeling of your hands joined in the other, like they were always meant to be held.

But you wanted more. To be vastly closer to him than you were now.

You knew how bashful he was, so you had to tread carefully to not make him uncomfortable.

You tested how far you could go by slowly scooching over to where you sat beside him.

While Goemon’s cheeks began flushing to a stronger red, he didn’t scamper away but sat still, anticipating your next move or possibly planning his own.

“Is this okay?” You asked in a tone barely above a whisper before softly resting your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him for any signs of discomfort.

You could not help the small giggle you let out at seeing how coy Goemon had become.

“Yes.” He replied timidly.

His confirmation gave you the courage to continue. You linked your left arm with his arm while your other reached out to touch his pecs that were exposed from under his kimono.

Your heart fluttered as it felt his own kick into a higher rhythm.

Goemon's eyes never left your face as he watched you follow the slow trail up his skin your hand was making.

You felt the bit of air he inhaled softly as your hand finally made it to the side of his face.

His side smile and hooded eyes encouraged you further as your thumb gently rubbed tiny circles along his heated cheeks.

Your eyes darted at his lips before glancing up to his heated, loving gaze.

You managed to get this far. It would be pointless to go back now.

As you leaned your face closer to Goemon's, you didn't fail to notice you didn't have to nudge his face with your hand as he seemed to follow your lead.

When your sweet lips met his earnest ones, a warmth flooded over your body. A kiss so sweet and gentle, much like the man you kissed.

You slowly albeit reluctantly pulled retracted your lips from his. You snickered at the bewildered look on his face.

“Goemon?” You asked, concerned you may have broken the samurai.

He blinked a few times before he turned his eyes back to you.

“You all right?” You lifted an eyebrow incredulously.

Goemon brought up his other hand and grabbed your hand that resided on his face as he gave it a squeeze.

Although all he could do was nod, it was enough reassurance to drive you to kiss his cheeks.

“You will be the death of me…” He muttered as he closed his eyes to try and fight another onslaught of blushes.

You giggled. “But what a way to go, hm?”

He tsked as he shook his head in disbelief but still smiled endearingly at you as he rested his forehead against yours with his eyes still closed.

You two stayed this way for some time. Just soaking in the warmth and close presence of the other.

Eventually, Goemon wrapped his arm around your waist in an attempt to pull you closer, and you felt like you could melt into him.

You occasionally kissed a part of Goemon's face, and he'd temporarily try and defy how flustered he got with you giggling at his attempts.

You two also shared many more kisses, each one slowly getting longer as Goemon started feeling more confident in the gesture.

Soon, you two fell asleep on the futon Goemon had been sleeping in since his stay in your cabin. His head nestled gently above your own as you lulled yourself asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

You heard a buzzing noise coming from a side table in the living room. You groaned, not wanting to move from your newly claimed spot in Goemon's arms.

Goemon must have also heard it as he slowly removed his arms to allow you to retrieve it.

“I'm gonna kill whoever that was…”

Goemon chuckled. He didn't doubt it.

You got your phone and were even more upset. It was just a stupid text message and not even a call.

When you opened the message, your face turned from annoyed to amused.

“Who is it, love?” Goemon inquired, voice still busy with sleep.

Your heart skipped a beat at the pet name that was going to take some getting used to.

“Who else…Lupin and his exquisite timing..”

“What does he want?”

“To meet him at a hide out in New York ASAP…” You pinched the bridge of your nose.

You typed a short response and then turned your phone on silent and placed it back down on the table.

“We'll worry about it tomorrow.” You declared. “But for now, I wanna keep you for myself some more.” You wrapped your arms around Goemon as you pulled him close and nestled your head back under his.

Goemon hummed softly in agreement as his arms copied yours and wrapped around you as well.

“Fine by me…” He quickly kissed the top of your head.

You smiled contentedly as you slowly fell back to sleep, silently hoping that you wouldn't cruelly wake up to this all being a dream.

Yet with strong arms holding you and a steady heartbeat in your ears, you knew that this was love and it was all real and all yours.

—--

LIII: Oi! Don't hold out on me! How'd it go? I tried to give you time to finally admit your feelings to Goemon-chan, did you do it? Huh? Oh well, don't say I never did anything for ya! Anyway I need my cool samurai back~ so if you could send him my way in proper condition, I'd appreciate it 👍 See ya soon~

#ri writes #goemon ishikawa xiii #goemon ishikawa xiii x reader #ishikawa goemon xiii x reader #may or may not make this a series #where their relationship progresses #and what the reader's relationship is with the other members #still dunno how to tag for this fandom rip #hope this finds the right people rip

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meraki24601 · 4 months ago

Note

Helloo! I wanted to say that I loved your writing of the "Indulge Me for a Moment" story so much!! It's likely one of my favorite things I've ever read on Tumblr and I have no idea if your requests are open, but I'd be really really happy to see it if you ever decide to make another part to that! ^u^

I'm not even sure how I could even describe all the things about your writing that I thought was incredible, but the hero felt so tragic in a way that just hit right, and caretaker was so good too!

Okay, so I almost cried at work when I read this. Thank you so much!!! I don't really have any ideas for continuing the first story, but I did want to explore how the scene might have changed if Caretaker didn't know who Hero was. I definitely feel like Caretaker was a bit of a Hero fan the first time around to recognize them immediately, so... here we are! Thanks again for your kind message, friend. I hope you enjoy!

Indulge Me for a Moment: Version 2

-----------*-***-*-----------

Caretaker knew what their new roommate was the first time they stepped into their apartment. They were a complete idiot. Although Caretaker had taken extra care to clean the entryway, they tripped and fell over the threshold. Caretaker managed to catch them before they hit the ground, but they still finished the tour with a limp. An idiot through and through.

Later, once Caretaker had lived with their new roommate long enough to be good friends, they would remind Friend of that first meeting just to watch them blush. Each time, they would deliberately ignore the flush on their cheeks as they remembered how Friend had looked up at them. The way they’d sighed in Caretaker’s arms, “My hero. Seems this is destiny, my dear.”

They would soon wish they could go back to thinking an idiot was all their friend was. One day, “Friend” brought work home in such a way Caretaker would either be cruel or just a fool to ignore it.

Caretaker was home later than usual. Villain had attacked the building next to their office, and a fight broke out between Villain and Hero. Even if the battle hadn’t blocked the roads, Caretaker wouldn’t have been able to pull themselves away from the window long enough to leave. The way Hero fought, unafraid to take a hit if it meant protecting innocent civilians, nearly brought a tear to Caretaker’s eye. They admired how Hero prioritized others even after the fight ended, directing emergency responders to others over receiving care themselves.

Footage of the fight wouldn’t be released until the next day, but Caretaker was nearly bouncing with excitement as they burst into the apartment, ready to recount the experience to Friend.

The mood dropped as the smell of bleach assaulted their nose instead of their cat, Pounce, attacking their feet. The faint remnants of the last of their scented spray only worsened the effect. Friend’s quiet voice in the kitchen was the cherry on top of the disturbing greeting, “‘M making ramen. W’nt some?”

“I think I’m alright.” Caretaker made their way to the kitchen, nearly tripping over Pounce, stationed just inside. Even the cat had wide eyes as they looked at what had happened to Friend.

Though Caretaker knew Friend’s job was occasionally dangerous, they had never come home that beat up before. Friend was prone to accidents and occasionally came back with new scars after one of their sudden work trips or family visits. This was far beyond normal clumsiness.

Caretaker cringed at the clumsy wrapping on Hero’s arm, the two large regular band-aids slapped on their forehead that had already bled through, and the steady growing stain on Friend’s side. They had no idea why Friend hadn’t gone to the hospital, but something about the order of the marks kept them from suggesting one. “Hey. You okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, citizen. You don’t need to worry about me.” Friend whispered. They leaned forward to rest against the counter and stared down into the too-large pot of water on the stove. The burner hadn’t even been turned on.

Caretaker reached over to turn the burner on. They decided to ignore the way Friend pulled away from them. “Citizen, huh? Did you get mugged? You look like you’re going to pass out. Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what happened? You tell your story, and while I rewrap your injuries, I’ll tell you about the fight Villain started just outside my work.”

“Villain. Villain can’t hurt Caretaker.” One of Friend’s hands ripped at their hair while the other clutched the handle of the pot with a death grip.

Whatever this was, talking it out wasn’t going to help anything. Caretaker trusted Pounce to watch Friend as they ran to the bathroom to get the first-aid kit. The room reeked of bleach. Presumably, Friend had treated their own wounds in the small space and made a decent effort to clean up their mess despite their condition. There were still a few splatters of blood around and a full bloody handprint on the empty, bagless trashcan. Caretaker had noticed the bag sitting just outside the front door but hadn’t paid much attention to it.

The bag consumed their thoughts now. Even the first-aid kit was left a mess, but Friend had taken out the trash. They needed to see what was in that bag.

First aid tucked under their arm, Caretaker slipped silently past the kitchen and cracked open the front door. Blood was smeared across the inside of the clear garbage bag, and something sharp had poked a hole in the side. Caretaker only just managed to bring the bag back inside before the object broke through.

Caretaker had to swallow back the vomit. The bloody knife on the floor was all too familiar. They had watched Villain jam it into Hero’s side less than an hour ago.

Suddenly, several things began to make sense.

“Hero!” Caretaker burst into the kitchen. Their Friend, no, their Hero was completely bent over the oven, arms bracing them on either side of the pot, too close to the now hot burner for Caretaker’s comfort. They seemed fixed on the small but steady drops of blood that leaked from their nose and disappeared into the water below.

“It’s you. You’re Hero.” Caretaker swallowed their tears. They didn’t know if it was joy or worry that brought them to their eye, but they were certain that now was not the time. Not when Hero slowly turned to look up at them, and Caretaker saw Hero’s tears mixing with the thin lines of blood.

“No. I’m not. You don’t…” Hero whined. Their voice seemed to be all Pounce needed to strike. The cat bounded over to Hero’s side and raised up on her hind legs to lovingly claw at the back of Hero’s leg. Her strangled meow was overwhelmed by the sound of Hero’s pot smashing against the opposite wall and crashing to the floor. It was too much for both cat and human, but Pounce was the only one composed enough to run out of the room.

“You’re safe!” Caretaker cried as Hero collapsed on the floor in front of the oven. “Can you hear me? Breathe. You’re alright.”

Whining into the hand covering their mouth, Hero curled in on themselves. The low squelch the action caused made Caretaker sick. They had to move this along. Consequences be damned.

Raising their voice only slightly, Caretaker decided to test their luck. “Hero.”

Hero’s reaction was more than enough proof that Caretaker had discovered the truth. The shock of hearing Caretaker use their hero name was enough to pull Hero out of the depths of whatever memory they had been drowning in. They didn’t react more than looking up dazedly with a soft frown.

“Hero, It’s okay. You’re safe.” Caretaker didn’t dare move so much as an inch.

“No.” Hero’s voice was rough. Barely half of what it had been when they called out to Caretaker only moments ago. “I’m not…”

“May I touch you, Hero? You’re hurt.”

“I’m not—”

“I saw the knife. I was still at the office when you were fighting with Villain. I saw them stab you with it. It’s alright.”

Hero met Caretaker’s eyes. Caretaker wasn’t sure what their friend saw in them, but they were relatively sure it mirrored the fear Caretaker saw in Hero’s. Whatever they found seemed to be enough to convince them. For a moment, Hero shifted, their back straightened and Caretaker could see the hero in them. They saw the person Caretaker had spent hours talking about. Their idiot Friend became their true Hero.

Their Hero fell forward on their hands and knees. Blood sprayed the floor below them as Hero’s groans turned to deep chest-rattling coughs.

“Okay. It’s okay! Breathe, Hero.” Caretaker picked up the damp rag they had brought, lifted Hero’s head, and gently wiped away the blood and tears. Hero didn’t fight the touch, so they kept working. Removing the sloppily placed bandaids and cleaning the cuts was simple and quick.

“I, indulge me… for a mom’nt.” Hero stuttered. “Tell me— what you, you thought. Like n- normal.”

Caretaker tried to move on and unwrap Hero’s arm, but Hero pulled back with a barely audible “Wait.” So Caretaker did. They sat back on their heels, supporting grip still on Hero’s arm, and rambled about Hero’s fight. They pretended they hadn’t learned about Hero’s identity and went off like a teenage fangirl talking about their favorite celebrity. They kept going, even when Hero nodded permission for them to care for their arm. Caretaker could give them this moment were everything was almost like it was before. They didn’t let the way Hero kept flinching away from even the softest touch drive them away.

Once Hero’s arm was bandaged correctly, Caretaker pulled Hero into their arms. “I know now, Hero. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

“It won’t be the same.”

Keeping their grip on Hero steady, Caretaker lowered Hero to lie on the floor. They were glad they’d mopped it earlier. They kept their face carefully neutral as they pulled Hero's shirt out of the untreated wound in their side. Hero's eyes drooped as the pain sapped the last of their strength, but their hand clung tight to Caretaker's shirt. “Don’t worry about that right now. For now, let me save my hero.”

Version 1

#whump fic #whump #whump scenario #whump writing #whump ideas #whump tropes #hero #caretaker #hurt/comfort #secrets revealed #weak hero

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baka-bakeneko · 2 years ago

Text

Mercenary's Lullaby - River Ward x Female!V Reader

tags:feelings of grief, bargaining, mention of surgery, childbirth, labor and related labor pains

word count: 4.3k

synopsis: V wants more time, no needs more time.

a/n: sequel to Babe of Night City. cue the water works, chooms. bbs train arriving at the station, youre either with it or outta the way.

'You are three months pregnant: your embryo is the size of a plum. Be careful, most ripperdocs will not operate on you in this condition.'

You stared at the notification in bed, waiting for Johnny to make a boyish quip about your little 'parasite'. But Johnny hadn't been around for two months.

It was a mutual decision and it was a short-lived goodbye when you both realized it would take twice the dose of beta blockers than before to push Johnny back.

So you had to beg Misty for the aid, let her hold your stomach with a few tears welling in her eyes. You wished it was Misty better off, you wanted to see how she would've been as a mother.

Now, though, the sun was beaming through your bedroom windows while you smelled the bacon sizzling in the kitchen.

"Let's get up then," you said, folding your hand to your slightly pudgy stomach. "Your daddy is an early bird unfortunately."

You stretched your toes and walked down the hallway then behind River, crossing your arms up to his shoulders. He folded his hand to yours, allowing you to rest your palm against his chest where his heart laid.

You kissed at the middle of his back, rested your forehead between his shoulders.

"Good morning, V," River said, a smile in his tone.

"Morning," you responded, bringing your chin up to rest in the divet of his spine. "Surprised you're up so early. You wore me out last night."

River chuckled, almost nervously, then cleared his throat. "V, uh, we have company."

You furrowed your brows together, then pulled a hand back to rest to your stomach. "They can't hear you, plus I'm sure you bothered them more last ni--"

"Hello, V," a voice called out from the dining table. The person cleared his throat while another person shifted.

You pulled away from River and turned around to see Takemura and Hanako sat at the dining table. You narrowed your eyes at the back of River's head, then crossed your arms at the two.

"Hello, V. You look better than we last met. You glow," Hanako offered, holding her hand out for you to sit across from them.

You grit your teeth, wanting to stay close to River. You moved around him, leaning against the counter to catch the corner of his eye.

He hid a low shrug, pushing the bacon about in his skillet.

"You do, I am proud to see that you've been taking care of yourself," Takemura offered, reaching for the coffee cup set before him.

"No thanks to either of you," you grit as River set a cup of orange juice next to your hand.

He pulled away from the stove, moved the crispy bacon from the hot burner before giving you a single sliver. You took a bite of it then took a drink of your orange juice.

River slid a plate of made eggs and bacon towards you, then opened the cabinet to produce your daily concoction of vitamins.

"Here," River said, holding his hand out for you to take your pills.

You grimaced inwardly but took them anyways. In an instant, you tilted the palmful of vitamins in your mouth then reached for the glass of orange juice.

"Good girl," River whispered, pecking your temple before folding his hand to your stomach. "Mommy takes care of you."

You kept your eyes focused on River, but couldn't help the glance over to Takemura and Hanako. Your hand slipped up River's to grab his wrist.

"Why would you let them in here?" You whispered harshly.

"Baby," River began, using his other hand to caress your cheek. "Let's hear them out, they want to give you more time."

Your eyes watered staring into your boyfriend's dark eyes, then pulled away in an instant.

"Pregnancy becomes you, V," Takemura tried again, crossing his arms tight before his chest.

Hanako only nodded and you tilted your head to look out of the window.

"Where is your security detail?" You asked, ignoring their comments on your state.

"They are far, far behind us. In Night City bounds. You are safe," Takemura said.

You glanced to River, who nodded for you to go sit. He shoved your plate of breakfast into your hands then began cleaning the kitchen.

With a low grimace, you approached the pair and sat down before them. You immediately grabbed your fork and stabbed at the overcooked yolk of your eggs.

"You came here for something," you stated, cutting into the egg before shoveling it towards your mouth.

"Yes," Hanako began with a deep exhale. "We are concerned for the state of you and your child."

"Cool," you muttered between chews of your food, "Two months later. Are you concerned I'm ruining your relic?"

Takemura shifted, folding his leg over the other. "Moreso that the relic is ruining your chances."

"I'm afraid Takemura is correct," Hanako added. "Two months ago was enough risk. With each gaining week, you are decreasing your chances of survival."

You stopped chewing then, feeling the egg lodge in the back of your jaw. "That's not helpful."

"We are hoping that we could help you today," Takemura added in.

"That's not any better." You finished chewing your food. You glanced over your shoulder to River as he finished cleaning the kitchen then sat down next to you with his own plate of breakfast.

"V," he started, resting his hand to your knee and rubbing delicately. "Give it a chance, please."

Hanako reached and grazed your knuckles with her golden fingertips. "We're only trying to look out for you and your baby."

You hid a roll of your eyes and sat back in your chair, no longer hunched over your food like a junkyard dog. "What do you have to offer?"

"The same surgery as before," Hanako explained. "With less risk, for your tender state."

You were unamused by the gentility the two before you displayed. Months before they were gunning for you to go in guns blazing to get this surgery and take down Arasaka.

Now they were padding every step of the way.

"What's the catch?" you asked in a snap, stabbing at your eggs to punctuate.

"No catch," Takemura added, looking from you to River then back. "They take their relic, you keep your life."

Your mouth refused to move an extra inch while the begging question lingered. You couldn't bare to look at River while you worked up the strength to ask it.

"You can't tell me how much time it'll give me, right?" You asked, feeling River's hand on your knee stop.

The soft weight of his fingers soon crept to gravity of Jupiter, slicing through your body though he hadn't moved.

Takemura and Hanako shared a soft glance to each other then shared a shake of their head. You inhaled sharply, turning away from the table to fight back whatever stinging feeling was worming through your throat and nose to effect your eyes.

"Even if...it's not a lot, we have enough to keep you comfortable," Hanako offered, her voice a tad lower than before.

You turned back to the table with a sudden burn in your chest. "And what, make me a human incubator? Discard me when I've served my purpose?"

River's hand was now around your shoulders, pulling you in to squeeze you. "Easy, V. They never said that. That's not what they meant. Right?"

Against River's shoulder, you heard his tone strain, an intimidation tactic that left a vacuum of silence in its wake. He rested his cheek to the top of your head as Hanako reassured that her meaning was different that what she conveyed.

"It is the best idea we have right now, V," Takemura said, uncrossing his legs and sitting still as stone.

You straightened up in River's hold and narrowed your eyes at Hanako, then Takemura.

"I want you to promise me that it'll give me..." Now that you were searching for a timespan you'd be happy with, you knew that no time would be enough.

A year would give you the kid's first steps, two years could give you another baby. Every instance of time just made it seem further and further away from River. Every year, you felt wouldn't be enough for him either.

It felt like it was stringing him along, giving him false hope of something more with you though your death clock had been scheduled for a while.

"More time. I want my life back," you whispered, losing your confidence in your threat.

Hanako nodded, though she said nothing. Takemura only looked away.

River's hand carefully ran his fingers up and down your shoulder, hoping to soothe the warring feeling inside.

You sat back in the chair, your nerves shot through hell. The night before, you couldn't sleep no matter how hard River held onto you.

No matter how long you stood in the shower to soothe your tense muscles, no matter how hard River tried to take your mind off of it.

You were a live wire all night. You were surprised you hadn't paced a hole into the floor, chewing on your nails though you'd kicked the habit since you were sixteen.

Now, you were staring at the blinding white above your head as your wrists were strapped down, then your ankles and finally your waist.

Hanako promised the safety of the kid, that the procedure wouldn't do anything harmful for their sake.

Still, you were a little uneased by the amount of doctors in the room now. Or the fact that River couldn't be with you.

You twitched your foot impatiently, hoping for this to be a quick in-and-out like at the ripperdoc.

However, when you were told that this wasn't at Arasaka's main office, it proved all your raw nerves right.

"Hello V," Hanako spoke clearly over the intercom in the room. "I am sorry I'm not there for you at this time, but I put my faith into the doctors at your bedside today. Please know that Takemura will arrive and return you home when the specialists have approved your stability."

"Fine, whatever," you offered in response, tilting your chin to will the tears back. "Just, remember what you promised."

"I will remember, V," Hanako said, waiting a beat for you to be eased by her words. "Mr. Ward has something to say to yo--"

"Hey V baby," River's voice cut in instantly, making you smile wearily at the ceiling. "I just wanted to say when you get back, I've got all your favorites lined up. Don't even sweat it, okay? Just take it easy. I love you."

You beamed at the ceiling, imagining River's warm lips pressed to your forehead. "I love you, too, Riv."

'You are seven months pregnant: your fetus can now open their eyes and sense light. They can recognize voices as well.'

You stared at the notification for a long moment, wondering how long you'd been harboring the little bastard (said with love) without talking so much to it.

The time seemed to breeze by after the surgery. It felt...freer in your head. Not that Johnny took up much space in the meantime. But now that he was actually gone, you felt a little less without him.

You were ready for him to just show up the moment you stopped taking blockers and tell you that you'd lost your grit or something.

But it never came.

So now you were staring at a notification, thinking of the last time you spoke to your own physical child. It was the day before, telling them goodnight before River bent down and kissed the top of your belly.

He'd rested his cheek to the top of it, let his child's fluttering kicks graze him. You felt his shaky breath waft over your stomach, reaching to pet at the nape of his neck.

You swung your legs over the side of your bed as River bounded down the hallway; he held his hands out for you to take then slowly helped you ease off the bed.

When you found your footing, you stepped into him, pressing your baby bump right against his stomach. "Good morning."

River swooned at the sight of you, his eyes lighting up at your voice as he smiled. He leaned in and pecked your lips, his hands bracing your waist before sliding to caress both sides of your belly.

"Good morning," he offered, kissing your nose, then your forehead and back down to your lips. Then he knelt and kissed at the top of your stomach. "Good morning."

That earned a kick from his own personal fan. You hid a roll of your eyes as River marveled at your bump, feeling the kid react to his voice.

"They said 'good morning, daddy'," you smiled down at River, hiding your own personal swoon at this man.

This was another reason, on that ever-growing list, why you wanted this man to make his own basketball team. Obviously, you were going to "draft" every player, but that was four more. And an additional eight if he was really spry to the idea.

"Ooh, say that again," River smirked, standing upright and sliding his hands up to cradle your jaw.

"Good morning, daddy," you repeated, your eyes dreamily fluttering.

River sucked in a sharp breath between his pursed lips, leaning in to kiss you. It was long and slow, his mouth making moves you hadn't even thought of before.

You melded into his hold, following his lead up until you felt something trickle down your thigh. You peeled yourself from River to acknowledge it, a pale pink streak of tears down your inner thigh.

You wondered for a moment what that could mean, if it was something to be ignored. River's eyes slowly drifted to the same spot on your leg, his adam's apple yoyo-ing at the possibility of what this meant.

The more you two stared, the more that followed down your leg before forming a puddle on the floor.

"Is that..." River asked.

"Noo," you drew out, turning to catch River's lips again. "We got plenty of time, this is nothing."

River was close to swayed, but you inhaled sharply at a pain in your back and he backed away.

"River..." you tried, holding onto his forearm while you tried to sit back down on the bed.

"Nonononono, you can't sit down, baby. Come on, let's go to Joss."

You seethed at the sudden shoot of pain through your back, shaking your head. "I can't make it that far."

River's face suddenly drained pale and bent to pick you up. "Okay, okay, then I got you. We'll go on over to Joss. We'll go to Joss."

You curled your arms around River's neck, hold your knees together to try and dissuade whatever pain was stemming to your toes now.

River moved quickly out of Randy's former trailer and into Joss's, bypassing his niece and nephew to prop you up on the couch.

"Joss?" River raised his voice as he smoothed down your hair.

"Hold on one second, baby, okay?" River leaned in and kissed your forehead as it broke out into a sweat.

"Joss!" He called out, leaving the room to find his sister.

"River, what the...V, oh my god, V are you okay?" Joss ran over to you, knelt on the floor and pressed her cold hand to your forehead.

River stood closely behind her, staring at you while trying to expel the worry from his brows. "I think her water broke. She can't go into labor now, right?"

Joss calmly looked over her shoulder to River. "Call Takemura."

"She can't go into la--" River tried asking again but Joss cut into his question with a screech of his name.

He moved swiftly out of the trailer to call Takemura while Joss rubbed carefully at your inside thigh now streaked in pink.

"V," Joss said lowly, which you acknowledged with giving her your full attention. "I'm gonna check you, okay? I wanna make sure that we're not having a baby today."

You tried at a fair grin, but just nodded at her request. You shifted your underwear to the side and allowed Joss to slide her fingers into you.

You hissed at the intrusion, holding at the sharp pain in your side. Joss stopped short, keeping her head low before pulling her fingers back out.

"We good?" you asked, biting through another pained hiss.

Joss scoffed in disbelief, sitting back on her haunches while she fought back the teary-eyed look at you. "N-no. You're having this baby, V."

"Fuckfuckfuck no," you whined, squirming on the couch to alleviate the pressure in your hips. "This is not happening. It's too soon, it's too soon, right?"

"Yeah, honey, it is," Joss soothed, rubbing at your knee. "It's gonna be okay though, we're gonna get Takemura and get you to a hospital."

You furrowed your brows, holding back the impossibly short breaths that were turning into pants.

"I-I'm not going to a hospital," you said firmly, working through the pain that was sustaining in the small of your back.

River rushed back in, still disheveled. "Takemura is on his way, he's bringing Vik. How's she doing? How're you doing, babe?"

He came to your side, taking your hand in his as he leaned in. Joss tilted her head slightly, almost in a shake. "She's in labor, River."

"Fuck," he muttered, looking over to his niece and nephew. "Joss, what about them?"

Joss glanced over her shoulder to her children. "Shit, uh, take them to Randy's room, shut the door. V, I need you to get comfortable on the floor."

"What? Why?" River asked, puzzled as you followed Joss's orders and shifted your hips slowly off the couch.

"River, she's not gonna make it to the hospital, okay? Now go put the kids in Randy's room, grab me some towels and a sheet."

River was set on his mission with a nuzzle to your temple. He corralled Dorian and Monique to his former bedroom then shut the door behind them.

You hissed at the feeling of the hard floor under your ass but followed Joss's directions of bracing your feet and tearing down your underwear.

In an instant, it was finally locking into place. You were having a baby.

River was back in a moment, arms filled with an overabundance of towels and sheets. He knelt next to his sister and spread them out around you, sliding a few under you.

He then draped the sheet over your knees, allowing you to tent your legs.

"Now what?" River asked as you hissed at another sharp pain warping through your body.

"Make her comfortable, dad, she's pushing your kid's head through her body," Joss quipped, her tone deadened by the stress.

River's eyes widened at that, turning to lean his forehead against yours. "I'm so sorry, baby. But I love you for this and so much more, you know that right?"

You smiled through the pain, reaching to hold onto River's wrist. "I love you, Riv, but right now, I can't stand your sweet words."

He chuckled against your lips, leaning further to kiss your cupid's bow.

"I'm sorry, just a few more. Mi mujer hermosa te amo siempre," River soothed, leaning up to kiss at your lashes. "God, V."

You forced out a laugh as Joss smacked at her brother's side.

"Alright, Romeo. I said make her comfortable."

River ignored his sister, pouring more affirmations of love into you as he made his way behind you, holding his hands out for you to take.

He nudged his temple to yours and muttered, "I give you permission to fuck up my hands. Just don't break 'em, I wanna change diapers."

You scrunched your nose at him; how could he be so nervous yet supportive at the same time?

"Stop being cute, that's what got us here in the first place," you forced out with a deep breath.

"No, what got us here is mommy has a thing for men in authority."

You hissed at a new sharp pain, then shied away from River's mouth with a roll of your eyes. "Shut up, I do not."

But that word seemed to fit in that sentence. Not that you'd ever tell your kid that. It'd only be an inside joke between the three of you now.

"Alright V," Joss cut in, reaching under the sheet to check you again. "It looks like it's about time to push. You ready?"

You shook your head, suddenly rushed back into the stress at hand. You were going to have River's baby.

"It's okay, Val," River whispered against your neck. "I got you, babe. Hold onto me. Tear into my hands, but don't give up for a second."

Your eyelids twitched half-mast at River's words, fighting back tears before sniffing them back and nodding at Joss. "Alright, let's meet this little bastard."

River opened his mouth to retort but you leaned back and kissed at his neck.

"Said with love."

Joss nodded and took hold of your ankles, ordering your to tilt your hips up and push. You did as ordered, forcing a long bodily push through yourself while River instructed you to breathe in long 'ooo's.

You could imagine River staring into your face as it turned beet red, an unfamiliar vein popping across your forehead while your collarbones flexed hard under your skin. Joss ordered you to stop, you did so catching your breath.

"Good girl," River praised, kissing your temple.

Joss touched at your thigh, gasping at what she felt with another check. "We already got a head, V. You're doing good, deep push."

You forced another push, gripping onto River's hands to gain whatever leverage you had. You silently apologized at the tender pops that came from his 'ganic knuckles and tried to not dismember his metal hand.

This one was longer, wracking through you and causing a sting in your unoccupied temple. You veered away from it, turning further into River's presence until you were told to pause.

You unraveled on River, catching your breath in deep gulps as you looked up to the ceiling. The sweat began slipping down your forehead, dotting in the corners of your eyes.

River whispered another praise at you, parting from your hands to rub at your arms. "That's my girl, there's momma."

Joss hummed with a nervous smile at the two of you. "You guys seem ready to meet your baby. Are you ready to meet 'em?"

"Yes," you and River drew out, equally wading in suspense.

"Alright, V, we got a big push. Let's make this one count," Joss ordered and waited for you to execute.

"Come on, V," River whispered against you. "Deep breath in."

You readied your grip on River's hands and straightened your hips up to force a final push out. It was a drawn-out effort, losing your breath a few times and sucking in air between your grit teeth.

Your eyes squeezed shut, earning a final shock of adrenaline rush through your body to gain a bit of strength off of River and curled forward with all you had.

You stopped at the sound of a faint cry, something that wracked through your being in a new sense and brought tears to your eyes.

"Good job, V," Joss encouraged, reaching to rub your leg. "Keep going, honey, they're almost out."

You wasted no extra time to revel, forcing that sliver of strength through until Joss said to stop. You fell into River's chest, heaving softly at the pain that suddenly overwhelmed your body.

Your hips were now filled with an indescribable pain, your body alight with a new raw that seemed to be soothed by River's firm warmth.

"He's beautiful, V," Joss cooed, raising the now toweled infant into your and River's eyeline.

You smiled, which quickly turned to tears as you turned into River's chest. The feeling of emptiness rushed through you instantly, something you weren't expecting.

River unclasped your hands from his, reaching out to take hold of his newborn son. You curled against River, watching as he brought the infant down for you to both hold.

"Look at 'im, V. He's perfect," River's voice barely escaped his lips, marveling at the doughy face of your son. "He's so big already."

Your smile strained, your laugh a peep from your lips as you stared down at the thing you'd waited for for so long. You remembered crying over him at the beginning, ready to fight for him.

And now he was here.

River pressed his lips to your temple, inhaling deeply at your hair. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he whispered to you, shutting his eyes.

You felt a warm tear streak down your forehead and you tried to hold back your own, pulling your son closer. River whispered a prayer into your ear, which you did your best to ignore before kissing your shoulder.

"Hello, little one," you worked up with your now tired voice. "You're who I've waited for."

"We've waited for," River added, putting his cheek to yours marveling your son at the same time. "What do you wanna name him?"

"Our new start, Riv," you offered, blinking slowly at the yawning baby before you. "A little Phoenix."

River's lips quivered at that, turning to kiss your cheek. "I like that. Phoenix. Phoenix Ward."

Joss sat back with a deep sigh, pushing to her feet. "Take your time, mom and dad. I gotta find my heater for the little one."

You pulled your son close, held him up to your chest and allowing River to peer down at him. Each glance over to River pieced together a beautiful, one-of-a-kind mosaic of this man you were hopelessly in love with making it possible to love him further.

The tears that shed down his cheek, staring down at his son, was nothing short of moving. You couldn't help but shed a few in solidarity.

The moment was pointed with Takemura and Vik rushing in, Vik holding his ancient medicine bag while Takemura stood by the door.

"None that I have access to on such short notice," Takemura offered with a soft catching of his breath.

"Bullshit," Vik offered again, taking the silence in with his breaths before looking between you and River.

"Kid," Vik began, slowly approaching the three of you cuddled on the floor, "you had your kid. God, I wish Misty was here."

Your face contorted at that, knowing you were missing someone from the mix. If anyone deserved to meet Phoenix, it was Misty.

"V," Takemura said professionally, not moving an inch except for a curt nod. "Congratulations."

You flashed a weary smile at Takemura then turned to River and kissed his cheek. Resting your head to River's shoulder, you exhaled all the weight that built from the stress and shut your eyes for a moment.

Until it wasn't.

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tags: (first tag ever omg)@almightywdm

#river ward x v #river ward romance #river ward cyberpunk #female v #v cyberpunk #fan work #fanfic #bbs: baby bullshit #bakeneko

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