#boondock saints x reader

[fbfh]

thinking about getting rescued by Connor and Murphy Macmanus. you're making ends meet, living in a shitty apartment in boston when some jackass in the russian mob decides that extorting your landlord isn't enough anymore. you come home to find huge, scary thugs roaming the halls of your building, banging on doors and demanding money. they try to shake you down, but you... you're not going to give up, and you're certainly not going to let them win without a fight. thankfully, god doesn't hate you quite as much as you worried he might, because you live in the same building as Rocco's girl. she sees what's happening out there and makes a call. the russian mob doesn't find your plucky attitude as endearing as you'd hoped, and you're about to pass out when two mysterious figures burst in, shooting up every gangster in the place. they get closer to you, muttering something to each other you can't make out, and one of them gently picks you up before everything goes black.

you wake up hours later just before dawn in... the shittiest, crustiest apartment you've ever seen. you're still a little out of it, and two guys - who you can only assume are the same ones from before - crouch next to you, speaking in gentle voices and comforting irish accents.

"You're alright sweetheart." the first one says. you think he's the one who carried you out.

"You're safe here." the other adds.

"Those assholes got you pretty good-"

"Put up one hell of a fight though," the second one chuckles, earning a smack on the back of the head from the first.

"Just try to get some more rest, and we'll check on you soon."

you try to agree, but you're exhausted and out like a light before you know it, managing a "hmmmf" in response before you pass back out.

you wake up properly a few hours later, and it takes you a few moments to orient yourself, to realize you're not in this apartment because of a drunken one night stand. you stretch stiffly, still achy and sore from the fight, and stand up to quietly look around. the apartment is empty, but it's worse than you thought it would be. this place is... a dump. a bachelor owned dump, based on the comical lack of furniture or decorations. you don't know what you're supposed to do until those guys get back, but you don't... not trust them. not yet, anyway. so you tidy up a little. you throw out the trash and wipe down the counters and tables. you spray a little lemon cleaner on the windows and make their beds. you find a pile of pillows and blankets on the ground, and realize they slept in the other room so you wouldn't be uncomfortable.

when Connor and Murphy return in their bathrobes pajama pants and work boots, hang their rosaries up on the nails by the door, and set down the breakfast foods and ingredients they just got from the corner store, they pause. something feels... different. there aren't any coffee rings in the kitchen, or tumbled piles of beer caps from their numerous contests seeing who can make the highest stack. things smell fresher, feel... nicer. you walk into the kitchen, hanging up a fresh dish towel over the oven rack when you notice they're back. you startle a little, and they both smile.

"Oh!" you exclaim, "Sorry... I didn't know when you guys would be back, so I just tidied up a little. I hope you don't mind." you say, almost sheepishly. they share a look, then turn their attention back to you.

"You did all this?" asks Connor, then he nudges Murphy. "We got ourselves a regular snow white."

Murphy laughs, looking at your handiwork.

"I didn't know it was possible." He says back to his brother. "The kitchen floor is white. Did you know the kitchen floor was supposed to be white?"

The Macmanus brothers like you. they find you sweet, and charming. they want to protect you and keep you safe from the scum in this city. since your apartment building is still a mess and crawling with members of the russian mob, you let them convince you to stay for a few days. of course it doesn't end up being just a few days, and no matter what a rough day they have cleaning up the city, they're always excited to get home, flop down on the couch (the one you got them, and the only thing tying the interior look of their apartment together) crack open a couple cold beers, and spend the night with their best girl.

[moonbaby6]

~Confessional

Word count: 1631

Warnings: Murphy has a Nun Kink, Swearing, Oral Sex !F receiving, Fingering, Sex, Unprotected Sex(don’t be silly guys) 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Being Murphy MacManus' girlfriend wasn't for the weak. Considering a number of factors including but not limited to: his job murdering terrible men, having to live with him and  his brother, and his kinks. You'd been through several, but this one? You were kinda flabbergasted.

Last night

You and Murphy were watching a movie in the apartment you shared with him and his twin brother, Connor. Connor was out for the night, and Murphy spoke up, "Have ya ever considered doing it ina confessional?" You looked over, chuckling at him, "No Murphy, that's just weird, and wouldn't that be considered disrespectful or some shit?" He chuckled too, "Probably, but think of how hot it would be....especially if you wore a nun's costume." Now at that you started genuinely laughing, "You're joking?" He shook his head, a mischievous grin on his face, "Nah, I'm serious love. Dead serious." You stopped chuckling and stared at him in disbelief, "You're insane, I'm not doing that." "Oh c'mon love it'll be exciting, spice things up a bit, yeah?" You chuckled again and shook your head as he got closer to you, "Please? I promise I'll make it worth your while." You debated for a moment, he looked hot as hell and you couldn't deny that the idea make you excited. You finally sighed, "Fine. Fine, okay. But where the hell are you gonna get a nun costume?" He smirked, "Already got one, I knew I'd convince ya." You shook your head and rolled your eyes playfully as Murphy stood, offering his hand to you. You took it, and the two of you made your way out of the apartment.

Once at the cathedral you quietly walked in, looking around to see that nobody was around. Murphy handed the costume to you, nodding towards the bathroom. You took it and shook your head, still in disbelief that you were really doing it.

You came out of the bathroom, feeling quite stupid but also really excited. The costume was a little slutty considering you were supposed to be a nun; but it was clearly like that on purpose. You found the confessional Murphy was in and entered the small space; he smirked and pulled you close to him. "Damn lady, ya make a sexy nun." You blushed and he leaned down, capturing your lips with his in a sexy, hungry, kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him so that you could clearly feel how excited he was over this whole thing. You put one hand in his hair, and the other held the back of his neck. He groaned into the kiss as your tongue licked his lips. You both opened your mouths and your tongues moved together in time with your lips; exploring each other's mouths.

He put his hands under the short skirt of the costume, gripping your thighs and lifting you up against the wall. You gasped as he pressed himself against you, his hands beginning to wander your body even more. You traced your fingers along the hem of his shirt before lifting it. He broke the kiss long enough to raise his arms and take it off; tossing it aside. You ran your nails down his chest as he took off your shirt too. He wasted no time in unhooking your bra and grabbing your tits. He broke the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest, sucking your tits while groaning like he enjoyed it more than you did. He pulled back, searching your eyes as he unbuckled his belt. You tugged his neck and crashed your lips back into his. He undid his jeans, shoving them down. You broke the kiss, looking at him and smirking. "Ya like what ya see so far sweetheart?" You nodded, "Duh." He kept his smirk as he said, "You'll like what ya feel even better love." You bit your lip as he reached his hand between your thighs; slipping a finger in the hem of your panties and tracing it before moving them to the side. You gasped lightly, feeling overwhelmed with excitement.

He took his finger and traced your folds, "You're already soaking for me love...." You shivered, watching every move he made. He teased you with his fingers, tracing you then pushing one in slightly before removing it. "Fuck you Murphy, stop teasing me." He smirked, pulling his fingers back up to his mouth to lick whatever of your wetness was on them. "Oh sweetheart, the teasing is just getting started." He moved you from the wall to sit you on the small bench inside the confessional; then he got on his knees. Murphy began kissing his way up your inner thighs, holding them apart as he sucked and nibbled on your skin. "Oh Murph-" You moaned, gripping his shoulders. He slowly worked his way up your core, his breath warm as he hovered over you. "Please Murph..." You were so desperate to feel his warm mouth on you that  you didn't even care if you begged anymore. He smirked, "Anythin' for you love.."��

He slowly and deliberately licked his warm, wet tongue up your needy pussy; taking his time as he looked up at you with his lustful blue eyes. He wanted to watch you squirm at his touch. You tossed your head back and let out a whine as he buried his face deeper between your legs, his nose pressing into your clit as he tongue licked up and down; in and out. "Oh shit Murph~" You mumbled, your hands gripping his hair tightly as you felt the pressure building in your core.  He  took his index finger, slipping it inside you and curling it around to hit your sweet spot. You let out a sigh of pleasure as he slipped a second one in. He worked relentlessly as you tugged his black locks, whimpers and sighs falling from your lips that he found more erotic than anything else he'd ever heard before. Right as you felt yourself about to go over the edge he pulled away, smirking, his face glistening with you. He brought his fingers to his lips, slowing sucking you off of each one, "Ya really thought it'd be that easy? Nah love, you're gonna finish around me." 

He pulled you up from the bench of the confessional, his lips locking on yours in a desperate kiss; you could taste yourself on his lips and tongue. He pulled away and turned you around, pushing on your back with just enough force so you'd be bent over; ready for him. You looked over you shoulder at him shoving down his boxers; his erection springing free. He smirked and stepped closer to you. He slid your panties off in an impatient motion before placing one hand on your back, gentling rubbing you up and down as he watched you shiver in nothing but the skirt. His other hand held his cock, rubbing it slowly up and down your slick pussy. 

"Ya ready love?" He asked, locking his eyes on yours. You nodded and he spoke again, "I want ya to keep those pretty eyes on me when I push into ya, yeah?" You shivered and nodded again. He slowly began to push his tip in, pulling it back out to tease you. You whined and he pushed back in slowly as your eyes began to shut and your head fell, "I said eyes on me love." He repeated, beginning to pull back out. You eyes quickly snapped open, locking on his. He smirked, and with one swift motion he completely buried himself inside of you, letting out a deep gutteral moan of his own. Your head fell back down as he gathered your hair in one of his hands; the other gripping your hip tightly. 

He began to slowly move in and out of you as you sighed with pleasure. "Fuck ya feel so good aroun' me." He groaned, his pace quickening as he began to pound into you relentlessly. Your moans grew louder as the sound of slapping skin filled the confessional. He tugged on your hair each time he slammed back into you; "Fuck yer gonna kill me darlin'." He said between breathless moans, feeling his orgasm building up. "Fuckin' come for me love, let go on me." He practically begged, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he licked his hand and found your clit; rubbing in tight circles, chasing your release for you. You gasped in pleasure, pushing your body back onto his with each thrust as you felt the familiar warmth coursing through your body.

"Oh shit Murph- I'm gonna-" Your words were cut short as you let out short, gaspy moans; his own deeply strangled moans mixing with yours as he yanked your hips back, releasing his warmth inside of you. You rode out your orgasms together as he rested his head on your back, gently kissing your back and shoulders. You sighed happily, weak in the knees as he pulled out of you and stood fully; pulling you back into his arms. You turned towards him and he kissed you deeply, his tongue tracing the entirety of your mouth.

"Now that, was hot." He grinned, his blue eyes captivating you as you smiled back. "Yeah, it was. You were right." "Yeah? We'll have to do this again sometime then, huh love?" He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows goofily. You rolled your eyes playfully as you both got dressed, "We'll see." He chuckled before opening the confessional door, letting you step out first. His hand found the small of your back as you exited the cathedral, walking side-by-side back to your apartment.

You knew there'd be plenty more to come in the future, it was never a dull moment with Murphy MacManus.

@ffsjustletmesleep <3

[daryltwdixon]

murphy x reader one shot

crying screaming over murphy calling you an angel brb

warnings: smut :)

word count: 1.8k

The late morning sun filters through the blinds, casting soft shadows across Murphy’s small, cluttered apartment. The smell of coffee fills the air, warm and grounding, mixing with the faint scent of smoke as he leans against the doorframe, watching you. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a curl of smoke as he lets his gaze linger on you, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

You’re at the counter, barefoot and clothed in only his shirt that barely covers the cheeky lines at the juncture of your thighs, your hair still a little messy from sleep. There’s something peaceful about the scene, the simple routine of pouring coffee into chipped mugs, as if the world beyond these walls doesn’t exist for a moment.

“You’re somethin’ else, angel,” Murphy murmurs, his voice low and warm, breaking the quiet. The way he says it—like he can’t quite believe you’re really here—sends a flutter through you.

You glance over your shoulder, catching the softness in his expression, the way he’s looking at you like he doesn’t want to look anywhere else. “It’s just coffee,” you say, smiling as you hand him a mug.

He takes it from you, setting his cigarette aside before reaching out to pull you close. “Nah,” he whispers, his fingers brushing along your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek. “It’s you, bein’ here, love… feels like I don’t even need to die to get to heaven.”

Your breath catches, his words wrapping around you, and he leans in, eyes holding yours for a lingering beat before he closes the last bit of space between you, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is gentle at first, warm and unhurried, as if he’s savoring the moment, letting it sink in.

You hear him set down his coffee mug and his other hand slips around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, his mouth fresh with the taste of coffee and cigarettes. You blindly set yours down on the counter beside him, both of your hands finding their way to the back of his neck, threading through his hair as he holds you steady, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that leaves you feeling completely lost in him.

Before you know it, he’s lifting you just slightly off your toes as he walks you backward, guiding you toward the bed, never breaking the kiss. You smile against his lips, a giggle escaping you as you're blindly led to the other room.

You feel the edge of the mattress against the backs of your knees, and with a gentle nudge, he eases you down onto the bed. He follows, his weight settling over you as he props himself on his elbows, careful not to crush you but close enough that his warmth surrounds you. His lips find yours again, this time with a little more urgency, a softness tempered with a raw need, as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of you in every kiss, every touch.

You lose yourself in him, your hands wandering over his back, pulling him closer, feeling his heartbeat against you as he deepens the kiss, lips tracing down to your jaw and lingering along your neck, leaving soft, reverent kisses that make your breath hitch. His fingers thread through your hair, holding you gently as he looks down, taking a moment to soak in the sight of you lying there beneath him.

“An angel,” he whispers, bringing his lips back to your neck, his kisses soft and warm, with his teeth grazing sensitive places that send goosebumps across your skin. His hand slips from your hair and slides under the shirt you stole from him, your bare body arching instinctively to meet his touch. His hand rests on your waist, memorizing every curve, and he groans as he leans into you, desperate to be closer.

Your hands are hurried as you tug away the last of each other’s sleepwear, bodies heated and hungry against one another. He pulls you on top of him, your hips straddling him as he looks up at you with reverence.

"Beautiful," he says, accent always thicker when he's full of desire.

“Could say the same thing,” you whisper, slipping off him to lie between his legs, your hands finding his warm, ready cock. He sucks in a sharp breath as your fingers wrap around him, his head falling back against the pillows when you brush your thumb over the tip. Your other hand stretches along his stomach, resting along the trail of hair that curls there. You press soft, wet kisses along his length, his whimpers growing needier as you tease him until finally, you bring him to your mouth, tongue tracing over the precum. Murphy’s head lifts, his stormy blue eyes fixed on you, filled with raw need. A small smirk plays on your lips before you take him completely, cheeks hollowing as you pull him deep.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his gaze locked on your face, taking in every detail. You moan around him, loving the weight of him between your lips, eager to draw more sounds from him. Your hand moves where your mouth doesn’t reach, mirroring the motion of your head as you glide along his cock. His fingers tangle in your hair, gently guiding your pace, and you let him, loving his control even in its gentleness. With a sudden movement, you surprise him, taking him to the back of your throat, and his hips buck as you gag slightly around him.

"Christ, I’m sorry, angel,” he says breathlessly as you lift your mouth from him, cracking a smile,"Lord's name in vain, Murph--"

His hand moves to cup your jaw, his thumb grazing your swollen bottom lip. “Tha's what confession's fer, now c'mere,” he murmurs, sitting up and drawing your face to his. His lips crash into yours, tongues sliding together as your moans mix with his. He presses you down onto the bed, settling beside you. One hand cups your face with reverence, while the other glides along your body, tracing the sensitive skin of your breast. His touch makes you shiver, and he gently twists your nipple, pulling a soft whimper from your lips. Your eyes flutter shut as his mouth replaces his fingers, his tongue soothing the sensitive bud while his hand wanders further down. His fingers trail along your thigh, encouraging your legs to open and he brushes the pads of his fingers along the inside of your thighs, teasingly close, making you arch toward him.

"Murph," A soft, breathy moan escapes your lips, barely a whisper, but it’s filled with everything you're feeling in that moment, an aching need for him. Your back lifts from the bed, hips just barely undulating in the air, desperate for anything.

“Yes, my angel?” he murmurs, releasing your other nipple he had moved to.

“Please,” you whimper, but he stills his fingers, drawing a soft whine from you.

“Please what, my love?” he teases, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I need—I need…” you struggle, voice trembling with need.

“Use your words,” he chuckles, low and rough, letting his fingers barely graze closer.

“Murphy, I swear to god—”

"Lord's name is vain, sweetheart," his smirk twitching his cheek, and as you're about to snap back, your words cut off as he presses two fingers against your wet heat, your eyes rolling back as he groans, feeling your arousal coating his fingers. His fingers return, gliding over your clit in slow circles, moving at a maddening pace that leaves you breathless. Your hand grips his face, pulling him in for a kiss as you whimper and moan against his mouth. He slips his fingers inside you, hooking them just right, and you gasp, your mouth falling open as his tongue brushes along your top lip, coaxing every reaction out of you.

“My God, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with raw need as his gaze locks on your flushed face. You pull yourself together long enough to deepen the kiss again, rocking your hips against his fingers. He hooks and scissors his digits, working you with precision as his thumb grazes your clit, making your entire body tremble.

Just as you feel yourself nearing the edge, he pulls his fingers out, and you whine, your body thrumming with anticipation as he moves between your legs.

“Can’t wait any longer,” he says, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close. His hands slip beneath you, holding you tightly as he pushes inside, his cock meeting no resistance against your wetness. He groans deeply, his voice roughening into a growl as he bottoms out and his teeth find the sensitive juncture of your shoulder and neck. He bites down as he withdraws almost to the tip, then thrusts back in with a force that has you crying out. His lips travel along your neck, leaving a trail of wet, hot kisses as he moves against you. Every thrust feels like more than just the physical; it’s as if you’re weaving into each other’s souls, binding in ways words could never capture.

"My beautiful fuckin' angel," His breath catches, a low, throaty sound escaping him as his lips hover close to your ear, rough and heated. "So fuckin' perfect, like your cunt was made fer me, eh?"

“Oh god, Murph—” you gasp, a desperate sound slipping from you as he groans, and your hips lift to meet his. His hand moves from around your back to slide between you, his fingers finding your clit again. He pulls the hood back, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in circles that make your eyes widen. He smirks, almost blasphemously, as he watches you, his fingers working expertly. You let out a shuddering sigh, every nerve on fire, your hands pressing against his chest as you feel yourself cresting. I's too much, too overwhelming, too much too much too much as pleasure skyrockets in you, and you're moaning his name as he continues his thrusts, slower now to let you concentrate.

"Come on, dove, let me see you. Let me feel tha' sweet pussy cum all over me cock," he says, almost under his breath he is breathing so hard. Your fingers dig into his flesh as he sucks in air, "Tha's it, right there, come on,"

Your body obeys, arching against him as the first waves of your climax hit, your muscles tightening around him as stars burst behind your closed eyes. He groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release, pulling out just in time. He strokes himself, and with a low growl, he spills over your thigh, his voice a hoarse, reverent chant of your name.

As the euphoria settles, he collapses beside you, drawing you close, his breath warm against your skin. The two of you lie there, tangled together, the world outside forgotten.

"Gonna need to put on another pot of coffee," you groan, a breathy laugh against his chest as you roll over onto him.

He lets out a contented sigh, his fingers running through your hair. “As long as you bring that coffee right back here, I’ll allow it.”

[reedusdaily]

[dixons-sunshine]

Make A Move | Murphy MacManus x Fem!Reader

Summary: Murphy had liked you for years. However, he was always scared to make a move, too afraid that he’d damage his friendship with you if he made a move. Thankfully, a small push from his brother made him brave his fear, making for an unforgettable moment for the man.

Genre: Fluff.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 2.1k.

A/N: This was meant to be a drabble. I didn’t intend for it to be this long. However, my muse took this idea and bolted with it, and I let her do it because it rarely happens anymore. My first story in a while that’s longer than 500 words, and I’m proud of myself for it. Let’s hope the muse stays for a while so I can power through some requests. Anyways, happy Murphy Monday, my loves!

“If ya stare at ‘er any harder, you’re gonna burn a hole straight through her skull.”

Murphy jumped at the sudden, unexpected sound of his brother’s voice close to his ear. Some of his beer spilled out of his glass, trickling down his shirt and onto his jeans, making Murphy glare daggers at his cackling brother. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh, but it is!” Connor laughed and shook his head, slapping his knee just for the dramatics—and to piss his brother off even more, because he found it rather amusing. “You’re so lovestruck, starin’ at her, you haven’t even heard a single word I’ve said these last fifteen minutes.”

“Of course I’ve been listening,” Murphy tried to defend himself while placing his beer glass on the bar’s counter, trying to dry the wetness on his shirt.

Connor snorted in amusement. “Yeah? Then what was I busy sayin’?”

Fuck. “Somethin’ ‘bout...” Murphy trailed off, trying to hone in on his ‘twin power’ to see if he could read Connor’s mind.

“About Y/N...” Connor began, waiting to see if Murphy would catch on to his ruse. However, much to Connor’s great amusement, he didn’t catch on at all. This is going to be great, Connor mused silently.

“Yeah, about Y/N! ‘Bout how she...”

“She looks...”

“Yeah, she looks...”

“Real cute in that dress.”

“Real cute in that dress!” Murphy finished as if knowing exactly what Connor had been talking about. However, Murphy quickly realized that Connor had set him up, and he punched his brother’s shoulder in a weak attempt at retaliation. “You’re a real dick, y’know that?” he grumbled in annoyance.

Connor doubled over with laughter, nearly spilling his own beer. “You’re just so gullible sometimes, brother.”

“I hate you,” Murphy retorted, picking up his beer and taking a big swig from it. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Murph, you can’t say that about your brother.”

The sound of your beautiful, angelic voice reached Murphy’s ears, and he almost spilled his beer again due to being startled—again. He looked up and locked eyes with you, his cheeks flushing at the radiant smile you sent his way as you wiped the countertop in front of him.

“Aye, tell him, las,” Connor laughed, wrapping an arm around Murphy’s shoulder and lightly shaking him. “Tell him he’s bein’ mean to his dear brother. Tell him he needs to quit or otherwise he’s gonna hurt his brother’s feelings.”

You rolled your eyes at Connor’s words, a small, light laugh escaping you. “Yeah, what he said,” you ‘agreed’, placing the rag down behind the counter and leaning on top the wooden surface. “Can I get you boys anything else?”

“Nah, I’m alright. Pretty sure Rocco already ordered me somethin’. I’m about to wipe the floor with him once I beat him at that.” Connor motioned over to the pool table. He took the final swig of his beer, placed the glass down on the countertop and sent you one final smile, before looking back at Murphy with a look that the other twin knew clearly meant “this is your chance. Don’t fuck it up.” With that, Connor walked away, leaving Murphy alone with you.

Murphy shook his head and toyed with the rim of his beer glass. It was no secret to anyone—except you—that the MacManus brother seated at the bar was head over heels for you. However, as flirtatious a man as Murphy was, this was different. You were different. You weren’t just some random lady he wanted to charm to get her number or something along those lines. He had known you for three years at that point in time. You had become one of the most important people in his life, and he greatly valued your friendship. If he were to ask you out and you happened to say no, would your friendship be irrevocably damaged? Would you cast him out of your life? Would he ever be permitted to even breathe the same air as you?

“You’re thinking really hard, Murph. Penny for your thoughts?”

Your voice reached Murphy’s ears, and he wished that you would never stop talking. He could listen to you ramble on forever. Your voice was so addictive to listen to. However, he quickly snapped himself out of his thoughts, reminding himself that you had asked him a question. “I’m alright, las. Just thinking.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” you giggled, unknowingly making Murphy’s heart leap at the beautiful sound. “What are you thinking about?”

Murphy shrugged and looked down. “Nothin’.”

“You know, people can’t usually think of nothing, because the human brain, according to what I know, is incapable of comprehending nothing. When you think of nothing, you see black, a void, right? Therefore you aren’t technically thinking of nothing, because a void is still something.” You let out a small laugh at the confused frown that spread across Murphy’s face. “Sorry. I just had to. It’s my favourite response for when people say they’re thinking of nothing. It confuses the hell out of people.”

Murphy chuckled and leaned his forearms on the counter. “Is that true? That whole thing you just said?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know. I’m not a scientist,” you replied with a small smile.

Murphy chuckled again. “Could’ve fooled me. That sounds like something straight out of those science articles in the magazines.”

“Why, thank you. I am pleased to know that I am able to sound intelligent enough in the presence of true intelligence,” you stated in an over exaggerated posh voice.

Murphy frowned at that. “Me? Intelligent? Where’d ya get that from, las?”

You raised your eyebrows at that. “You’re kidding,” you laughed in a disbelieving tone. “You speak, like, two thousand languages fluently. How the hell’s that not intelligent?”

Murphy shrugged nonchalantly. “It isn’t that hard. You just gotta keep practicin’ ‘em consistently. It also helps that I’ve been exposed to those languages from an early age. Anyone could do it, though. Even you.”

“Yeah? Literally all I can say in another language is “bon appetite”, and the only reason I know what that means is because I took one semester of French back in high school.”

“That’s still impressive, though.”

You scoffed and shook your head with a smile. “No need to try and make me feel better about myself, Murph. I’m not trying to seek pity. I’m sure there’s something I can do that you can’t.”

Murphy smiled and nodded. “Yeah, there’s probably plenty of things you’re better at than me. Hell, I can think of one right now.” Murphy leaned back and stretched, his shirt riding up slightly to expose the skin beneath the fabric, and the man missed the way your eyes trailed over it, and the way you quickly averted your gaze when you realized what you had been doing. “You crochet, right? I’ve tried that before. All I managed to do was somehow poke myself in the eye.”

You giggled at that. “One point for me, I guess, and a hundred points for you, still.” Before Murphy could protest and reassure you that you were indeed talented and that you could do things he couldn’t, you moved on. “But enough about that. What were you and Connor talking about before I came over? I heard my name being mentioned.”

Murphy’s eyes widened at your question. What the hell was he supposed to say? Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? Should he make up an excuse and hightail it out of there? However, Connor’s look from before, the ‘don’t fuck it up’ look, appeared in Murphy’s mind, and he sighed. There was no time like the present, he supposed. Might as well test the waters and see where he stood with you.

“Connor was teasin’ me, las, ‘cause I was busy starin’ at ya,” he admitted quietly, his cerulean eyes staring into yours, anxiously awaiting your reaction.

To say you were shock would be the understatement of the century. Your eyes widened at his admission, your heart beginning to pound out of your chest. However, you tried to school your expression to a more neutral one, attempting to hide your nerves—and excitement. “You were staring at me?” When Murphy nodded, you inhaled once, scraping together the confidence for what you were about to say. “You like what you saw?”

Be cool, be cool, Murphy thought to himself, trying not to expose how nervous he actually was. “Oh, I love what I see.”

See. He had used the present tense. It could’ve meant nothing, but you clung to the hope that it meant something. You locked eyes with him, a small, flirtatious—well, you hoped it was flirtatious—smile spreading across your face. “Yeah?”

“Aye,” Murphy nodded. You weren’t repulsed by his ‘advances’. He took that as a good sign. “I always love what I see when it comes to you, las. You’re a beautiful lady. I could stare at ya for hours.” You giggled shyly and ducked your head, making Murphy smile affectionately. “And that’s the truth. You know I hate lyin’.”

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage. With each compliment he gave you, your confidence grew immensely. “You’re not too harsh on the eyes either, Murph,” you replied jokingly. That was an understatement. He was damn pleasing to look at. You could stare at him for hours.

Murphy chuckled at that. “That’s good to know, otherwise this would’ve been embarrassin’, me makin’ a move on a beautiful lady while lookin’ like a dried out pickle.”

Your heart both simultaneously sped up and stopped. Making a move. So it wasn’t just playful, flirtatious banter? You were immensely pleased to hear that. “You’re making a move on me?”

Murphy readapted his earlier shy demeanour. “Um, no. I don’t—” He cut himself off by taking a deep breath, before exhaling and continuing. He was already in too deep. There was no backing out now. “I mean, yeah. I am. I jus’... I’ve been wantin’ to ask you out for a while now, but I was too afraid. I’m sorry if that’s weird or anythin’, las. I didn’t mean to make ya uncomfortable. I can leave if ya—”

Murphy never got to finish his sentence. He was effectively shut up from his nervous rambling by your hands grabbing the lapels of his jacket, tugging him up from his seat to lean over the counter, your lips crashing against his for a kiss. This first kiss exchanged between the two of you wasn’t like the ones he’d seen in those cheesy romance movies Connor would sometimes force him to watch. It was sloppy and messy, yet tender and gentle, too. It was perfect.

Whoops and cheers filled the air around you, making you and Murphy pull apart. The two of you looked towards the pool table where everyone had gathered to watch Rocco and Connor compete, and saw that everyone’s attention rested on the two of you, and you quickly became aware that everyone had witnessed the kiss happen. The cheers and clapping proceeded, making Murphy duck his head as his cheeks became ablaze in embarrassment. You simply waved the men at the pool table off, rolling your eyes at them to mask the embarrassment you felt as well.

Game forgotten, Connor made his way over to the two of you and wrapped his arm around Murphy’s shoulder, lightly shaking him a few times, a huge, satisfied grin on his face. “Atta boy, Murph! I knew ya could do it.” His blue eyes trailed over to you, his grin now directed towards you. “Proud of you, too, las. I’ve known ‘bout your little crush on ol’ Murphy here for a while now.”

Rocco, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, hoisted himself up onto the counter and sent you a teasing smirk. “I’m surprised either of ‘em made a move. Thought we were gonna be stuck in an endless loop of lovestruck staring.”

As Connor and Rocco continued on with their teasing, your eyes drifted over to meet Murphy’s. He sent you a small, shy smile, his cheeks tinted with a crimson colour. You sent him a smile back, your heart fluttering in your chest. Let Connor and Rocco tease you for all you care. Your moment with Murphy was perfect, and it was an amazing turning point in your relationship with the MacManus brother.

Now all you had to do was wait for another minute alone, and then you’d definitely repeat your actions, albeit this time, away from prying eyes.

[h0tb0x1nnac0ff1n]

AMEN 🙏

[stellar-waves]

arrow

. . .

[ boondock saints : murphy + fem!reader ] fluffy february : prompt 15 ⚠ warnings: none really, established relationship, canon-adjacent-ish, high sugar content A/N: This is more like it. Sorry for all the angst, guys. Also, this prompt obviously made me think of Daryl, too. And no I'm not knocking out more just to catch up. Hope you like it! 💗

. . .

“Close yer eyes.” You do as Murphy instructs, but slightly open one eye to peek at him. “No peeking!” He says with a laugh, quickly turning around and taking your wrists to move your hands over your eyes.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you oblige, wondering what he could possibly be concocting for you. After a long day at work, you’re honestly not really in the mood for a big surprise, but you love your idiot Irish boyfriend, and if he’s excited about something, then it’s all good. 

“Alright, open ‘em, lass.” You feel your cheeks blush before you pull your hands down; doesn’t matter how many times he calls you that, the way he says it makes you melt every single time. 

You open your eyes to find him standing directly before you, holding a small blue box wrapped with a white ribbon. Immediately, you know it’s jewelry, just from what you’ve seen in the movies and not from actual experience. And logic has you ruling out a very serious piece of jewelry that would be much too soon to even be a thought in your relationship. Plus, the size of the box is too wide and too shallow for that jewelry. 

Murphy’s entire face smiles, the blue of the box matching the color of his beautiful eyes. “Go ahead, yeah. Open it!” he encourages, handing the box to you as your nerves spark up the back of your neck.

You finally oblige, taking the box, carefully undoing the white ribbon, and lifting the lid. The box reveals a simple silver necklace with an arrow charm linked horizontally in the middle of the thin chain. You smile because it’s so beautiful, but you are also confused about why he would do this and what the occasion could possibly be.

“Just because I love ye,” Murphy affirms as if he’s reading your mind. He’s gotten pretty good at that, actually.

“It’s beautiful, babe. Thank you.” You look up and flash your famous grin at him, the kind that makes his knees weak. 

He breaks into a proper grin himself and reaches into the box with his tattooed hand to gently pull out the necklace. “Here, let’s put it on ye.”

His fairly large fingers struggle a bit to open the tiny clasp, but he finally does, and you twist your hair up off your neck as he reaches around. You love that feeling when he’s close to you, touching you, and it makes you genuinely forget your troubles from the day. 

“So there is a significance here,” he starts to explain.

“You mean, like, why an arrow?”

“Aye. It signifies direction, force, movement, and power. When it’s pointed to the left, it wards off evil. But pointing it to the right shows protection.”

You hum, smiling more and chuckling a little because that’s the most Murphy-like reason for his jewelry selection. All the times have you heard him and his brother remind each other that they’re “destroying all that which is evil, so that which is good shall flourish.” 

Your curiosity piques, making you want to strain to see which direction he’s placed the arrow against your clavicle. But you choose not to move, not to break the contact of his fingers grazing the back of your neck. “So which way is it pointing?”

Murphy grunts a soft laugh. “To the right. Because I’ll always protect ye.” He says it with such a soft yet direct assurance that makes you swoon. You let your hair down when his hands move down your shoulders, gently spinning you around so he can see how it looks, breathing out his reaction, “Beautiful.”

You gently touch the arrow sitting at the base of your neck, feeling the silver against your skin, and you pull at the waistband of Murphy’s jeans with your other hand. You press into him, and he dips his head down to reach your lips, kissing you soft and slow. “It’s lovely, Murph,” you whisper against his mouth. “Thank you.”

He presses his forehead to yours with a deep breath. “I mean it, love. I’ll always protect ye.”

. . .

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I’ll Throw Away My Faith, Babe, Just to Keep You Safe

Part 2

Pairing: Murphy MacManus x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to violence; Blood and injury; Poorly written smut; That damn iron again

You rubbed your forehead, a headache brewing behind your eyes. You would definitely have preferred to be at the bar with Doc. Instead, the boys had left you at the church while they handled the threat, a job in which they excelled without you being used as a pawn. Now they were pissed, seeking something beyond justice.

The worst part was the silence. Without the distraction of sound, your thoughts were free to wander, a myriad of conceptions that stretched from your childhood to your current predicament, pivoting back to the scene with Murphy; his arms around you, his breath hot against your ear, the way he had leaned into your touch. If only you could have stayed—

The door flew open and smacked the wall. You were on your feet before you even realized what it was you were doing. The least you could do was ensure you were worth the battle Murphy and Connor were facing. 

Your clenched fists relaxed as the brothers—Romeo in tow—entered, Murphy limping heavily and Connor cradling an arm to his chest. “Oh, thank god!” Your face was buried against Murphy’s neck within the span of a heartbeat, your arms beneath his, squeezing his torso. He let out a gasp—one that nearly had you jumping away—before you felt his warmth surround you. 

“Hello, love.” He murmured into your hair, his hands softly rubbing your back. You were forced to swallow the whimper pushing against the hind side of your teeth, concealing just how worried you had been. What if he had never returned? 

“Are they all—” You began, the words trailing behind the softest of sniffles. 

“Always be people like them in this world, lass.” His lips pressed against your temple before he hobbled back a step and placed his hands on your upper arms. “But aye, they’re gone.”

With a nod, you dropped your head and wiped at your eyes. He had seen you cry plenty of times, seen how the risks he took weighed so heavily on your shoulders. Regardless, it seemed more difficult now to allow him audience with your tears. 

“Grab the iron.” Connor elbowed Romeo with his good arm and stalked into the room, falling heavily into the chair you had previously occupied. 

“Always with the iron!” Your lips drew straight into a pinched smile as he passed, waving you off with his uninjured arm. 

Watching him walk—really seeing him—you turned back to Murphy. His face was bruised and littered with cuts, flecks of blood splattered on tanned skin. A crimson pool had puddled around his boot. 

“Murphy!” You exclaimed, grabbing his wrist. “You’re hurt!” The bullet had tagged his thigh, the metal a dense pressure in tissue and muscle. He was fortunate it had missed the artery. “Sit down, come on.” Guiding him to the single bed, you glanced toward Romeo and did a double-take. He was plugging in a compact iron. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

You couldn’t stop pacing. How could they ever think you’d feel comfortable in a hotel while they remained in the church? You should have been with them, helping clean up the mess, taking care of them. They had refused, claiming your safety was priority number one. 

Your life as you knew it was over. Murphy had mentioned a new apartment. He had been adamant that you needed to be kept at a distance, not seen with them again. It would be a miracle if your existence remained unnoticed by other threats when such a prominent mob had discovered your ties to the MacManus twins.

You knew that they’d never be able to keep you away. Deep down, they knew it too. It was a codependency. They needed you just as much as you needed them. Safety be damned, no one would take that away from you: Italian mob, police, the Pope himself. 

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, the phone became the centerpiece of your attention. Their instructions were clear: do not call until they could get a burner phone. The risk of being traced and found was just too great. 

Damn them and their vigilante lifestyle. 

Just as the war within found a victor and you reached for the receiver, there was a knock at the door. Startled, you jumped and nearly struck the lamp off of the nightstand. The last time someone had knocked, it had been the precursor to one of the most terrifying nights of your life. 

“Shit.” You whispered, creeping toward the door with a cautionary edge. The soft rapping didn’t sound again before you peered through the peephole. 

“It’s only me.” Murphy grinned, leaning in as if he could see you on the other side. 

Rolling your eyes, you disengaged the lock and opened the door. “Ass.” He was limping over the threshold before you had even fully stepped out of the way, invading your space with his warmth and the intoxicating scent of smoke and something that was just so incredibly Murphy. “What’re you doing here?”

“Making sure everything’s okay.” He picked up a room service menu from the desk and glanced at it. “Needed to know that you’re safe.”

You suddenly wanted your hands on him, beyond intimacy, but to ensure yourself that he was really here. Thoughts drifting and lingering on that first day in the hall, your focus settled on how Connor must have felt. As seasoned as he was, there had been a fear in his eyes, a stricken terror that he was going to lose Murphy. 

And now, you knew how that felt. So many times, since that day, you had sat around your apartment and wondered if that would be the day he didn’t return. If that would be the day the god in whose name he fought would take him from you. If you could have done something, done more. And once he was home, you agonized over how you could ensure you never had to feel that way ever again, how you could keep him safe. 

“Hey, lass.” You blinked and met the brilliant blue of his gaze, only in that moment realizing that he was rubbing your upper arm. “Where’d that pretty head of yours take you?” It should have been easy to say all you wanted to express within the confines of your own head, but giving actual breath to the words was next to impossible. 

Especially when he was looking at you like that. 

His expression was different. It lacked the mildness of an alcohol-induced calm, but his eyes were the same. The same intent observance as the night he had bid you stay. Sobriety would bar those words from ever crossing his lips but his eyes said it all. 

“Stay.”

It took you a moment to realize it had been your tongue to utter the word and a moment more to realize how many different ways you had meant it. Stay in your life. Stay with you and give up the mission. Stay at the hotel.

His hand had stilled. “Y/N?”

You swallowed hard past the newly formed lump in your throat. “Stay with me tonight.” The vulnerability that you had attempted to avoid built up its glass walls, and you suddenly felt the intense fear of the stone that would shatter them. “I mean, if you want to. I’m just worried that—well, you know—you and Connor—what if—”

Your lips burned from the moment his touched them, a scorching buzz that you were certain you’d feel long after he pulled away. You had barely anticipated that moment when he stepped closer, his hands on either side of your face. You melted into his touch, knees unexpectedly weak, his right hand abandoning its position to press against the small of your back and keep you standing. 

When he did end the moment, your eyes remained closed, lips chasing his as you held tight to the feeling you had just experienced. You nearly whined when the silence willed you to look at him. With a second of trepidation, you blinked your eyes open—and nearly gasped. 

The same pregnable hesitation you had felt only moments ago reflected back at you, bathed in radiant blue. There was a sparkle in the dance of his gaze, his search for permission to continue. When your words refused to find breath, Murphy stepped back. 

“I’m sorry, lass.” He murmured, quickly withdrawing his hands. “I’m a right proper eejit.” He pursed his lips and nodded, affirming the statement to himself even as you shook your head and stepped forward to close the space once again.

“No, no, no. Murphy, I was just—taken by surprise.” His eyes narrowed, that adorable expression that meant he was working something out. “I want this. I want this so much!” It was you to seal your lips over his this time, your arms thrown around his neck. Murphy chuckled against your mouth, his smile forcing you to kiss his teeth before he pulled back. “What?” You asked breathlessly.

“Nothing, love. Just,” he reached up to rub your upper arms, his hands gliding down over your ribs to settle on the curve of your waist, “slow down, yeah?” Tilting his head, he craned his neck to follow your gaze when you nervously attempted to look away. Your cheeks flared pink with embarrassment. “Unless you’re late for the next lad?” He teased. 

You huffed a laugh through your nose. “Shut up.” 

“Gladly.” His right hand abandoned your hip for his fingers to instead clasp your chin and guide your face back toward his. Leaning forward, he nuzzled his nose against yours before claiming your lips, a slow dance that coaxed you to sigh and relax into his hold. When he started walking you backward, you were too enthralled with the taste of him to realize where he was guiding you until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Thrown off balance, you began to tumble back, eyes shooting open and an indignant oomf sounding against Murphy’s lips. You separated from him with a deep breath just as your butt hit the soft padding behind you. He was grinning down at you, peeling his peacoat from his shoulders to let it slide off his arms into a pile on the floor. 

It wasn’t the first time you had appreciated how well the man wore a t-shirt. Murphy was lean with whipcord muscles beneath tan, inked skin. His biceps flexed while his hands grabbed the back collar of his shirt to pull it over his head. Your mouth went dry and your brain blanked for a moment, the neurons only firing once again when his knee pressed into the mattress between your thighs. Wide eyes blinked up at him.

He went still. “This okay, love?” You nodded with an almost comical enthusiasm, eliciting a chuckle from the man above you. His mouth had barely opened to say something, but snapped shut the moment your hands seized the hem of your shirt to yank it over your head (with only a small amount of difficulty). “Eager,” was all he managed. 

You bit back a plea, though the desperation to touch him was dangerously close to unbearable. Murphy’s tongue dragged across his bottom lip, followed by his thumb, the digit hovering at the corner of his mouth. His eyes were glued to the curve of your breasts above your bra, the skin flushed with arousal. You were ready to pounce the man. Self-control was not an easy feat at that very moment.

When neither of you moved for a lingering heartbeat—just long enough to make it awkward—you let your fingers touch the skin that seemed to be mesmerizing him. He was helplessly following the movement of your hand. You pressed both palms against your sternum and carved a trail down to the waistband of your jeans, tapping the button with a single digit. 

“Need some help there?” He asked, a hungry edge to his tone. The way he squinted and shifted his eyes to your face, it was certain he had already mentally done all the undressing. 

“Mm-mm.” You declined with a sultry grin. Your stomach fluttered with something akin to anxiety, his undivided attention calling forth insecurities from your past relationships. But this was Murphy. You wanted him in a way that ached. A bone-deep desire that needed him to satisfy the primal urges he had awakened within you. 

You popped the button and watched his fingers twitch at his side. You could practically hear his heart pounding a tattoo into his ribcage, a smirk curving your lips.

Capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, you drew down the zipper and began to shimmy the fabric down over your hips. There was only a single pause—jeans hugging your thighs—when his breathing quickened. It was the slightest alteration and hitch. 

“Bloody hell, lass.” Murphy raked his fingers through his short hair, the skin of his cheeks and chest roseated. 

You giggled—actually giggled—and rid yourself of the garment in one quick motion, carelessly tossing it to land somewhere unknown. Beckoning him with a finger, you allowed your legs to fall open. He appeared to hesitate before it became abundantly clear that he was simply admiring the sight of you. Then his knee was denting the mattress once again and he crawled up the length of your body not unlike a predator stalking its prey. 

His weight settled on top of you, breath against your skin, the taste of a last cigarette clinging to his kiss. Your nails traced up and down the perfect slope of his back, feeling the muscles ripple and relax as his hands mapped the landscape of your body.

Unfortunately, Murphy’s jeans were still very much settled on his narrow hips. You would have to remedy that if you could remember how to make your body obey your brain.

“Mm, Murphy.” You breathed, arching into him to bare your throat. He hummed against your pulse, nipping at the exposed flesh. You mewled below him as he moved again, brushing his lips against yours without claiming them. When you leaned up, desperate for his mouth, he pulled back and grasped your chin. 

 “Are you sure, love?” 

You drew back against the mattress, angling to see his face. His eyes were so blue, pupils blown wide, and he was looking at you like you were the queen of his fucking castle. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” 

Murphy said nothing as he leaned in to take your lips, urgent and heated. You smiled against his mouth as he pulled against the front clasps on your bra and parted it. He pulled the lacey fabric down your arms, exploring the treasures underneath, his desire building with every moan, every whine. You raised your hips as his capable fingers slid your undergarments down your legs, wasting no time in discarding them somewhere on the floor. 

His lips explored your chest with more fervor than before when he suddenly pulled away and stood, saving you the effort of being the one to rid him of the remainder of his clothes. You reached for him before he could settle back above you, twisting your fingers in his short hair to bring his lips back to yours.

Murphy nipped at you playfully and trailed wet kisses down your neck, chest, and stomach before he ventured lower, pausing just above where you needed him most. He brought your left leg up over his shoulder, angling his head to kiss your inner thigh. You shivered and bit your lip, arching off the mattress as he continued to work his way back up. When he settled between your thighs and reached down between your  bodies to line himself up with your entrance, your stomach knotted in anticipation.

He pushed into you slowly, the glorious stretch of accommodating him dragging a moan from somewhere deep within your chest. It was everything you had been yearning for, connection and pleasure intertwining into something you could not describe, much less name. 

Hypnotic blue orbs stared down at you. It was not until that moment, you realized he wasn’t moving. No words were said. You raised your head to meet his lips, calm and inviting, and slid your hands down his back while winding your legs around his calves. To Murphy, that was ‘green light: go.’ 

The first roll of his hips, the pleasant burn of adjustment, was exquisite. An involuntary shudder passed over him, silently communicating that it was he found it just as pleasurable. Your breath caught with each deep, deliberate drag along your walls, your toes curling. You felt like you were going to come apart, split right in two. 

His lips found yours again, his tongue drawing across your bottom lip to bid you grant him access. He had no more than locked into your mouth before retreating, dipping his tongue into the hollow of your throat. His mouth ventured to where your pulse was hammering, teeth grazing the flesh there while he pushed deeper into you. Your back curved upward, trapping your breasts against his chest while your fingers pressed roughly into his back, nails leaving crescent moons in the skin there. 

“Fan go teann, a ghrá.”

Blinking lust-fogged eyes clear, you had no chance to question before you were shunted upward by an ardent thrust. The pace he set was intense, but far from brutal. Your hands scrambled between white knuckling the headboard and digging your nails into any piece of flesh you could grip. 

 “Y/N.” 

Oh, the way he purred your name; you felt the heat of his tone searing into your core. The consistent spearing against that spot deep within you had your eyes rolling and your lips parted in quiet gasps. His breathy moans in your ear were swiftly catapulting you towards the edge much too soon. You once again bit your lip as a familiar tension began to coil and burn with each push and pull of him. 

Before you could reach your peak, he rolled and brought you with him, hands resting on your waist. You wasted no time and began to grind your hips, grinning as Murphy bucked off the mattress and hissed. His fingers tightened their grip, urging you to continue. You obliged, leaning forward to grab the headboard and earning sounds from the man that you didn’t even know he could make. You would surely have finger-shaped bruises later, but the sight of him writhing beneath you and breathing your name like a mantra was intoxicating. 

You found a perfect rhythm together, your hips snapping back and forth as his ground up into you. When your muscles began to flutter and hug him, he did nothing to hinder your gratification this time. Stars exploded behind your eyes as you crested with a cry of his name. Murphy followed, groaning hoarsely, head pressed back into the pillows with blissful agony carved harshly in every tensing muscle.

Dizzy and floating on a cloud higher than nine, you unceremoniously toppled over beside him and were immediately gathered to his side, lips pressing into your hair. Still lost in the post-coital high, you vaguely felt him shifting and smiled as the blankets came down over you. 

“That was—wow.” You marveled in a breath, blinking up at the ceiling while reorienting yourself with reality. You felt Murphy’s deep chuckle vibrate through his chest. 

“Aye.” He agreed, his throaty tone traveling straight to your lady parts. Down, girl. The second kiss you felt on the crown of your head was sobering, and you turned into him, your ear over his heart. 

“Murphy.” You uttered, your fingertips exploring the planes of his chest and stomach. He responded with a drawn out hum. Maybe he was falling asleep. “I—this was everything I’ve wanted for so long.” His breaths paused.

“Really?” He probed. Murphy pulled back and angled his head to regard you. 

“Mhm.” You tilted your face upward with the softest of smiles, watching your words turn about in his head. “Can I tell you a secret?” You grinned. 

“O’course.”

“I think I fell in love with you a while ago.” Admittedly, fear vibrated behind your teeth in an attempt to trap the words before you could voice them. “No. I know I did.”

The expression he wore frightened you, a stoicism you couldn’t decipher. “You love me?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “I do.” 

“Huh.” He smiled, staring off somewhere over your bare shoulder. “I often wondered about that.” 

That wasn’t really the answer you had hoped for, but you would take what you could get with him. 

“Well, now you know.” You couldn’t disguise the disappointment hovering densely over the words. You made to rest your head against his chest but he caught your chin between his forefinger and thumb. 

“I love you, too, lass. Have from the moment I laid eyes on you.” Bending awkwardly, he caught your mouth with his own, chaste but no less passionate. You were slow to open your eyes once the absence of his lips left yours cold and wanting. “bhí mo chroí agat i gcónaí.”

“I’m not sure what that means but I like the sound of it.” You chuckled before biting your lip when he rolled you onto your back, your legs bracketing his hips. 

“Maybe I won’t make you ponder on it for too long, but for now,” he kissed your jaw. “Let’s do that again, yeah?”

Laughing, you weaved your arms beneath his to pull him closer. “Oh, yeah.”

Murphy would definitely be spending the night.

[dixonsdarkelf]

A Little Snooping Never Hurt Anyone: Murphy MacManus & Fem!Reader

Summary: Bedroom activities with your boyfriend never ceased to leave you fully satiated, but tonight was different. And only later is it revealed what exactly had gotten into him.

Main masterlist Murphy x Reader Masterlist AO3 link

Genre: Fluff, suggestive, implied smut

Word count: 878

Warnings: MDNI, implied smut (like we don't see any of the action but they were clearly fucking), implication of unprotected p in v & creampie (I do not endorse this, y'all know better), swearing

A/N: This was inspired by this post from the lovely @negansbestie ���� I hope you enjoy this angel. Consider it a belated birthday gift 🖤 And thank you to my favorite second set of eyes, @dixons-sunshine, as always 🖤

The door crashes against the wall, the sound of those rusty hinges reverberating through the small apartment. His lips had already collided into yours before you’d even approached his apartment, his kisses tender but needy, every cell in his body already tingling at the thought of feeling you in the most intimate way.

Barely in the doorframe, his hand finds your waist, pressing you against the wall and boxing you in. His other hand trailed to your leg, lifting it slightly to hook around his. You could feel his hardness against your thigh, dangerously close to your core. The heat radiating off of him, but especially from between his legs, was searing, suffocating almost.

His lips traveled down your jaw slowly, almost achingly so, eventually finding the sweet spot on your neck. He kissed, licked, sucked gently—teasing you, testing your patience. Which you had none of today.

“Fuck, Murph.” Your head falls back to allow him easier access, your fingers digging into his shoulders as if it was the only thing keeping you upright. Your moans sent shivers down his spine, every little reaction your body had to his touch traveling straight to his cock.

“Ye make the sweetest sounds, lass,” he groaned against your neck, resisting the urge to grind against you. He wanted to take it slow with you. He always did. Tonight, though, would be just a little bit different.

He pulled your leg up further, his hand sliding down to pull your other one up and encouraging you to wrap them around his waist. He captured your lips again, ensuring he had a firm grip on you before pulling you away from the wall and carrying you over to bed.

That was some time ago. Half an hour, 45 minutes, you couldn’t be sure, nor did you care.

And now here you were, strung-out and spent, the mattress springs squeaking as your partner adjusted himself next to you. He slipped on that infamous grey robe before lying back, pulling the blanket over himself and cuddling closer to you. You smiled up at him, the dazed, cock-drunk look in your eyes making him chuckle.

“Ye good, lass?” he inquired. He brushed some hair from your face, admiring you as you lay there on your back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” you sighed, your stupefied expression carrying into your voice. Sex with Murphy always left you satisfied after, but today? You’d never felt pleasure like that. Never felt him like that. He was gentle with you, of course, but there was an unfamiliar voracity in his thrusts, an earth-shattering hunger as he bucked and emptied himself into you. “Holy shit.”

“That a good “holy shit?”” he teased, a chuckle escaping him once again.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, those deep pools of blue pulling you toward him like a siren song. “Are you kidding me? My legs are still twitching.” Rolling over onto your side, you propped your head up with your hand, resting on your elbow. “That was incredible. I’ve never seen you like that before.” You paused for a brief moment, a beat just long enough to contemplate asking the question that’d been on your mind. “You were wild, babe. What got into you?”

A faint blush appeared on his cheeks, quickly creeping down his neck. “Saw yer texts the other day,” he confessed, sounding ashamed as his eyes fell to the bed, “left yer phone open when ye were in the shower.”

Your ears perked up at his statement, and despite your best efforts, you could feel them beginning to redden against your will. “And what exactly did you see?”

“A message of ye tellin’ ye friend, and I quote, “I want him to hit it like a drawer that won’t close.”” His voice had grown softer, timid, like he was a little bashful to be uttering such words. Though after what he just did, the notion seemed silly—getting flustered after giving you a life-changing orgasm.

The heat gathering in your cheeks was like fire, burning you from the inside out. The embarrassment flooding your system was suffocating, your breath catching in your chest as you gasped. Your hand instinctively shoots out from under the blanket to swat his chest. “What the hell, Murph, you little sneak! You snooped?”

“Don’t know if it technically classifies as snoopin’, Y/N,” he shrugged, “never touched it. Only saw what was open. Ye know I’d never do it intentionally.” He snaked his arm around you, pulling you flush against his chest and kissing your forehead. “And I don’t know why ye lookin’ so embarrassed. Seein’ ye lose yourself, watchin’ how ye reacted because of a little something I could do…gonna go stir-crazy if I keep thinkin’ about it.”

You giggled softly at his praises, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “I just never expected you to see it. But I’ll admit, the way you were tonight was something else.”

“Guess a little snoopin’ never hurt anyone,” he teased, his other hand sliding down your lower back to bring your whole body closer to him. “Especially not in this case.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. A hint of laughter laced your words, bringing matching smiles to both of your faces. “In this case, I guess it doesn’t.”

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract @dixons-sunshine

Hit me up to be added to/removed from the taglist 🖤

GIF and © below were made by me. Sparkle and 'sexual content below' dividers are by @/anitalenia

[star-wrote]

ANYFING WITH FLUFFY MUEPHY MACMANUS PLES PLES PLES PLES LMAOOO

Mo Stór

ao3 link

Characters: Murphy MacManus x Fem!Reader

A/N: loving the energy in this request, anon. if you had a tail, it would be wagging LMAO. i’m sorry this took AGES, but i hope you enjoy anyway! <3

Warnings: cussing, bad irish accent writing, fluff, domestic bliss, seriously it’s so fluffy

Word Count: 817

Dating Murphy MacManus isn’t the easiest thing in the world. In fact, if you were to ask his brother, he’d say something along the lines of “Dunno how ya put up with us being vigilantes and shit, lass.”

You and Murphy have had countless talks about him and his brother’s “hobby,” half of them ending in you begging to join him. He would never let you, it’s too dangerous.

So you work your job to support yourself and the boys. You don’t mind it really, they treat you like their queen. Usually, they’re home when you get off work. Walking in to a warm dinner, even if it was a frozen pizza, was a feeling you wish for every good person on earth.

Other nights, like tonight, the brothers wouldn’t be home. You couldn’t help the feeling of anxiety that went to that pit in your stomach. You rush to the note on the refrigerator, ripping it from the magnet that also held up a picture of you and Murphy kissing. Both the picture and the magnet fell off the fridge as you read the note.

“Went to grab Chinese takeaway for dinner. Be back soon x.”

You sighed in relief as you read Murphy’s chicken scratch handwriting. You remembered the magnet and picture that fell, and quickly retrieved them off of the floor. You smiled as you pinned the picture back to the fridge and silently thanked Connor for capturing that moment on camera.

It had been a long night at McGinty’s, and Doc had kept the rounds coming. You had somehow convinced Murphy to dance with you; it must have been the David Bowie song playing. At the end of the song, he dipped you down like you were in some kind of romance movie, and gave you one of many kisses that you two have shared in that bar. Once he heard the click of the camera, he gently dropped you to the floor and shoved his brother, trying to grab the camera. You laughed on the bar floor as he successfully got the camera and pocketed it. He must not have been too upset about the picture since he printed it out the next day.

You heard the door open while you were reminiscing, interrupted by the familiar sound of the twins bickering; this time about chopsticks.

Connor calls your name as he shuts the door. “Are ya gonna use chopsticks?”

You smile as Murphy rolls his eyes and sets the food down on the table. He makes his way over to you and kisses your cheek.

“Yeah, of course,” you answer Connor, “are you?”

He pulls two wrapped pairs of chopsticks out of his pocket and hands you one. “Of course! Murph here wouldn’t let me grab three because he doesn’t know how to use them.”

You look at Murphy who rolls his eyes again as he grabs your hips to slide past you and take a fork from the drawers. He grumbles out “I’m fuckin’ Irish, don’t need to know how, eejit.”

You giggle as you hug him from behind. “I’m pretty sure the Irish didn’t invent the fork either, Murphy.”

He tried to frown, but one side of his mouth lifted. “Are we gonna eat this shite or not?”

After dinner and the nightly movie, you and Murphy retired to your shared bedroom. You were glad that the movie finished because it was Connor’s night to pick, and he picked the worst possible movie on earth, as usual.

You had both changed into your sleep clothes, and brushed your teeth together, smiling at each other in the mirror.

This was your favorite part of the day. You and Murphy got to cuddle in bed and just look at each other. His hand was on your cheek and his thumb was smoothing out your skin.

“Mo stór.” Murphy interrupts the silence.

You smile at him. “What’s that?”

“My darling.”

You kiss his forehead. “Yeah, I am.”

He smiles and kisses your lips gently.

You rest your forehead on his. “For a second I thought you were asking me to marry you or something.”

Without hesitation, he answers, “I would.”

You bring your head up from the pillow and lift your eyebrows in surprise at him.

He notices the shock on your face and scrambles to say something else. “I mean I don’t have a ring for you or anything. But I would get one. I just know that God sent you to me. I may be a saint, but you’re an angel, lass.”

He grabs your hand and kisses the top of it.

“It seems like it would be a pretty divine marriage if you ask me.”

You feel a tear fall from your eye. “Oh my god.”

He smirks as he wipes the tear from your face and chides, “Lord’s name, love.”

You giggle and then nod.

“Let’s do it.”

[darylgf]

murphy macmanus is absolutely & 100% a scrub. at least, that's what your friends call him. no car, shitty job, not even a place that he can legally call his own. of course, it's not by his own volition as it’s just been him and his brother for years just trying to get by. but that doesn't stop your friends from telling you that you're too good for him, that you need to stop wasting your time. and they're partially right; he's not a good boyfriend, not a bad one either though. hell, you don't know if he can even be called a boyfriend. all you know is that he will disappear for days to do only god knows what, leaving you lonely with a heavy heart. only to show up randomly at your door, looking at you with his pretty eyes, head tilted to the side with a lopsided smile that almost seemed like an apology. and you forgive him every time. maybe you do because he's just that good; with his words, his hands, his mouth, his hips. he had impressive control of his body, even more control over yours. or maybe you let him in because you know that, for the night, he's yours. he's sweet to you, in how he talks to how he holds you as he goes on and on about a future together. and you foolishly encourage him on even though you know it's never going to happen. you know he will never be yours. perhaps you just enjoy playing pretend with him for the night.

it's never actually random though when he shows up. you've never noticed it before, but he always shows up when he knows that you're home. you've never even given it a thought. he knows when you are home, because he knows you; your habits and your routine. it's something he's etched into his memory. he's too charming for his own good because every time he knocks at your door, he fully expects to have the door slammed in his face, but you don't. he doesn't realize why though. he only thinks it's because as he walks up to your door, he has his head bowed in a prayer. the words barely audible as he mumbles them to himself and god, his heart hammering in his chest. he knows he doesn't deserve you so you must be a gift from above; something that he must beg god for, an angel he gets to visit when his life lets him. what else could you be if not that?

[dix0nvix3n]

Sorry I haven't been active again, life is really tiring. Anyways, it's my birthday so I thought I'd post this edit I made a bit back so I can at least post something for y'all! This is also posted @ daryldixonvixen on tiktok :]

[fbfh]

Hi! Would you mind writing Logan Huntzberger with a reader who comes from a family with a bunch of traditions? (Aka me lol) For example, my family has a tradition of Friday night date night for my parents. When we were little, my brother and I would go sleepover at my Papa's house but once he passed when I was 13, my brother and I started having movie nights while my parents are on their date (more often than not they stay at home, but it's still super sweet). Then, on Saturday mornings my Mom and I wake up bright and early to go to the farmers market, my Dad always leaves out twenty bucks along with a note so that my Mom and I can buy ourselves each a bouquet of flowers. When we come back home, we make chocolate chip pancakes and slather peanut butter and nutella all over them. Sundays are lazy days. No friends or visitors allowed. My Mom has a pretty strict no one leaves the house rule; it's family time and relaxing day. We get to sleep in as late as we want and have sugary cereal for breakfast. We usually spend the day watching movies, playing outside, and playing board/card games together. It's just really chill in my house on the weekends, and I think Logan could really benefit from having a girlfriend who is so chill and relaxing. I can just imagine you inviting him home with you, and him being so chill and smiley playing board games and walking around the farmer's market.

Also, Logan would be so down to have weekly date nights. A designated evening for him to spoil you rotten? Sign him up!

OH MY GODDDDDDDDDD LOGAN LOVES IT. once he gets real down bad and obsessed with you (which does not take long at all) he makes plans to surprise you with some fancy date or something and you're like "oh shit I can't! that's movie night. so is the friday after that and after that perpetually and indefinitely :/" he's cool with it and trying to mentally juggle things and reshuffle schedules cause you ARE his priority and you're like "but you can join us if you want!"

Logan had no idea you had a brother. he also realizes he came horribly over dressed and has never really experienced a quiet causal family hangout. he loves his family but his parents are usually off at fancy galas or fancy fundraisers or fancy business events and Honor has been obsessed with planning her wedding and making it perfect since before she was even in a relationship. his friends are more let's go get waisted off liqour that could pay off someone's college tuition types. he loves all of them - his friends, his family - but he's never really been in any "let's hang out all quiet and cozy and sober at home" circles. it's so nice, so refreshing to do that with you. your brother laughs at how overdressed he is, and you bring him upstairs to dig around for something comfy for him. one pair of sweatpants and an old summercamp t shirt later, the three of you are curled up in the living room, surrounded convenience store snacks and frozen pizza, half way through your double feature - now a triple feature, since you and your brother insist Logan picks the next movie. he relents as you all disolve into laughter, and pulls you closer to kiss you while your brother fake gags at the sight.

"this is... the best night I've had in a long time." Logan tells you quietly, a vulnerable, intimate tone in his voice, and you understand how much this, this inclusion and acceptance and normalcy means to him.

"good." you reply, smiling, "cause you're staying all weekend. I hope you like mickey mouse pancakes and cleaning while my parents blast cher."

he laughs and agrees.

"I think I can handle that."

you snuggle back into him as the next movie starts.

"just wait till I tell you about date night."

[reedusdaily]

[dixons-sunshine]

A Mess | Murphy MacManus x Fem!Reader

“Holy fuck.”

Despite the situation being anything but humorous, you found yourself chuckling—albeit bitterly—at his exclamation. “Holy fuck, indeed.”

Your apartment was the epitome of a mess. Due to the incessant amount of rain that had been falling to the earth over the last few days, your already flimsy, leaking roof had completely caved in. The debris, as well as the water, had completely ruined most of your bigger belongings. You just thanked god for the fact that your more precious items—namely your photos and other smaller things that held a lot of value to you—had managed to escape the cruel aftermath of the destruction.

You had called Murphy in distress when you had come home to find it destroyed. Your boyfriend, who lived a thirty minute drive away, had managed to make it to you in half of that time. Admittedly, before you even showed him the dire state of your apartment, you had sobbed into his chest, seeking comfort in the arms of the man you loved so dearly.

And when you finally showed him your apartment, his reaction perfectly summed up how you felt.

“Alright,” Murphy began, forcing the shock to leave his body, “let’s get started then, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well, ya can’t live here when the place is like this, las,” he replied, turning to look at you, his gaze soft and sincere. He gently gripped your shoulders in his hands. “We salvage what we can, and we put ‘em in boxes, and then we put ‘em in my car, and then we drive back to my place and get you settled in.”

Your heart swelled at that. “You sure? I don’t wanna be a burden for you and Connor.”

Murphy scoffed and shook his head. “You could never be a burden, Angel. Not for Connor, and especially not for me. Besides, it would be good to get you there. You’ve been wantin’ to put a ‘woman’s touch’ on our apartment for a while now. Think of this as the perfect opportunity to do so.”

That made you smile. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly, sighing in content when Murphy instantly reciprocated the embrace. “Thank you, Murph.”

“Of course, Angel,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of your head. “I love you, las.”

“I love you too, Murph. So much.”

[h0tb0x1nnac0ff1n]

Love Norman so much it’s becoming a problem😓