#i almost did young work wives for this one

[artsninspo]

Sunrise & Ashes [Sinners One-shot]

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Author's Note: This is a quick concept I thought up for the SmokeStack twins.

Pairing: Smoke X OC & Stack X OC (platonic)

Summary: What if there was a ‘working-girl’ who Stack loved platonically while Smoke held complicated feelings for while being a faithful paying customer? What happens if she falls out with Smoke before  October 15th and doesn't go to Mississippi with them? What if Stack shows up at her door changed only to realize she’s carrying Smoke’s child?

wc: 2K

Returning to the place where his great-grandmother had been buried the day prior had happened almost by accident. A thick layer of ash is all over the soil covering the coffin. The headstone had been laid but there was no end date etched into the large stone to signify the day had finally come. If only he had known the truth of it, all of it. He'd only seen her in the twenties and thirties if only he knew about the SmokeStack twins and Chicago. If only he’d have known the full extent of the world he lived in and what dwelled within it.

No one thought Iris would live to a ripe old age, she sure as hell was living fast enough to die young. Her mother decided being a single mother in Jim Crow era Chicago was more than she could stomach and so Iris was left on her own with the only people her mother knew - whores. It was no place for a child to be raised but they did their best setting her up in a bedroom in the attic space where she could be a child. She was pretty so the Madam took her out dressing Iris up like her own daughter and taking her to the theater in New York. Then Iris became the prep girl. Making sure the bedrooms were clean and smelled good. From a young age she knew to shut her mouth when she saw patrons at the markets with their wives. At fourteen she started singing but then some of the girls got jealous that she’d take a cut before they even got on their backs. But then the depression hit when she was an adult and she learned that singing and dancing would never pay as well as skin so she started turning tricks.

No one would believe that she met Stack first. That he’d come in skinning and grinning with his playful dimples and dangerous air and that it lasted all night. Stack had a reputation among the ladies as a pimp and smooth talker but in Iris he found an unlikely soulmate - the platonic kind. Her and Stack were each other’s medicine for ailments they didn’t know they were afflicted with. The medicine was laughter and closeness without it being anything sexual. It was unprecedented for the both of them but it was real. So real that it was Iris that would help him in his pursuit of women. It was Iris that would make the pound cakes he’d take to family gatherings with whatever lady he was talking seriously at the time. That was how Iris met Smoke. He’d come home early one day to find a woman in his kitchen taking a cake out of the oven. His eyes narrowed and she seized up knowing faster than most he was not Stack before Stack himself emerged. Iris knew they were twins but she’d never seen them together.

Smoke had the reputation of having few words and a predisposition to violence. A predisposition Iris knew about from Stack who had divulged the secret of their father to her one night as they talked until sunrise. People would have thought it was Stack who sought her out for her enterprise but it was Smoke who went to the madam with the full sum requesting Iris. It was Smoke who used her body to find his pleasure while supplying hers. Smoke who gave her her first real orgasm, smoke who made her moans real, smoke who stirred feelings of love and Smoke who made her feel like more of a whore than anyone else.

Paying patrons are always trying to save a coin and make girls fall in love. For Smoke it would have been easy but he never did. He never took his clothes and shoes off, never stayed the night, they never kissed and he never spent the night. Gone before sunrise. She only ever saw him at night - taking the darkness away and preparing for the day. Perhaps Iris was the only person who would tell you Stack was an excellent friend. They’d paint the town together, drinking and laughing and dreaming together. Smoke came home on several occasions to find them both fully dressed and asleep on the couched tangled and intertwined like children. It was part of what endeared Iris to him.

No one would believe that it a wave one night at a fait that saved her life. Iris had been there with a few friends and come across Smoke and waved. He’d paid her dust but she didn't think nothing of it. Before leaving he was at the exit having a cigarette and she said hello like any sensible respectful decent person would. While in the company of other men Smoke looked around.

“I ain’t Stack” he said coolly like he wasn’t the reason Itis no longer had to turn tricks.

“My mistake” Iris had muttered broken hearted before leaving with her girls. The next time Smoke was horny Iris told him to find someone else. Heated words were exchanged and smoke, a man of few words proved why his mouth was as lethal a weapon as the rest of him, slashing her self confidence into nothing. She was nothing more than a whore and she should know her place was the black and white of it. Words Smoke didn’t wholeheartedly mean but protection was protection. He didn’t need to walk around with anymore soft-spots and Iris, one of Stack's hussies, was safer than letting anyone think he had a woman who was comfortable enough to approach him in public. He came back two weeks after the first fight wanting absolution again and finding resistance instead. But Iris would never know the love smoke bore her until he was dead - that information would never come from the living.

Iris toed the line maintaining a relationship with Stack while staying away from Smoke. Stack tried to intervene and get a word in for his brother but Iris wouldn't hear any of it. The only real apology Iris got was an apology at a juke joint she was at with a man she was seeing. After dancing with Stack, Smoke cut in pulling her in close. Stack paid the band to play something slower. Smoke held onto his woman. Iris tried not to revel in the proximity and intimacy.

“I’m sorry” he’d told her and in his eyes she could see it was real.

“I don’t need an apology Smoke” Iris said, ending the dance prematurely. Only that night ended badly for her. Knowing he could never compete to the smokestack twins the man she was seeing caught a temper and found himself whooping on her for being a whore and dancing with the both of them. Iris called Stack who brought Smoke and beat the man within an inch of his life. Stack nursed Iris back to life in tandem with the Madam. While the vision of Iris nearly broken and clinging to Stack with a fat lip looking almost unrecognizable was etched into his consciousness. She was less chilly to him, half thankful and half afraid. He postponed the return to Mississippi so Stack could see Iris through recovery. On the night before their robbery Smoke stopped by the brothel. He entered the attack putting a large suitcase into the closet like he owned the place. Then he sat taking off his shoes, then his coat, shirt and then pants. Something he’d never done throughout the duration of their affair. Iris went to leave and find another room but Smoke closed the door stopping her. They kissed for the first time that night and they made love so good she couldn’t ask for more. As the final act of penance Smoke spent the night with his arms wrapped around Iris as she laid hers on his chest listening to his heartbeat. He was warm, strong, virile and passionate.

He was up at daybreak saying goodbye and handing her a letter from Stack. He’d rested his forehead against hers placing a kiss on her forehead before leaving out - that was the last time Iris ever saw Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore. Three months later sometime in October Stack showed up after sunset begging to be let in. Something about him wasn't right, it was like he was being torn inside out. Like he was fighting a battle, like there was a war being waged within him. His anger was different than anything Iris had ever seen from him but when she opened the door he didn't walk in. Then he unnerved Iris even more by sniffing the air like a feral dog and sniffing. In an instant it was Stack again. The stack that had held her too many times to could, the stack with a reckless mouth and a wicked sense of humour. The stack that left her in stitches, the stack that felt like home. We argued through the door until sunrise and then he ran into my shed. By noon Iris heard him screaming and ran out to cover the windows with thick downy sheets. He was back at sunset and when she asked what happened to him he told her. If it wasn't for all his bullshit she would have believed him the first time but she didn't until he told her Smoke was gone. He’d never joke about that. The second listen to the story was painful for so many reasons and after promising to walk into the sun if he turned her Iris let Stack in.

They cried together and then a dead man told tales of his brother's heart in conflict. Smokes devotion to Annie and his care for Iris. He���d made a deal with Smoke, a deal to leave Sammie and the family - let them live and so Stack never bit you. He went on a crime spree with Mary returning to find Iris after the birth of her twin girls. He was there as they grew up having to go away because he never aged. He was there to love them from afar and linger in clubs when they got older and keep them safe. He was there to love them from afar, never getting too close. But then they had kids and Stack found himself spread thin. He found it hard to watch Iris age and got back together with Mary for a time before a fit of hysteria caused her to walk into the sun. Stack found himself relieved and found himself living wild again until it got old. Age didnt hit him until he met his newest offspring. Twin boys that reminded him too much of Smoke. Smoke who now haunted his thoughts like he was calling him home. As an identical twin the kids were as much his as they were smokes but his condition did not allow for the closeness of a grandfather and great-grandfather. He felt like peter-pan watching Wendy age.

Stack was there with Iris every night in the end, the two of them laughing and telling stories like the oldest friends. Those last few weeks he numbed the pain. Physically she was old but mentally with Stack she was young again and they were in that house in Chicago. Age had distorted her features but memory held the picture. Being so close to death Stack could finally see it for what it was and when it took Iris there was nothing left for him in the world. He could feel the weariness in his bones and the decay. He spent the night making sure Iris' grave was consecrated making sure his brass knuckle knife and Smokes gun were in the casket.

By the time the sun rose he was ash over the soil. Experiencing a final sunrise before bursting into flames and covering Iris grave.

_________

author's note: thanks for reading, don't forget to comment, reblog and like if you enjoyed. Can you imagine Stack being kind of a sweetie? Can you imagine Smoke surviving that night and growing old with Iris with permission from Annie? LMK

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[warnersister]

How the peaky boys react when dating a girl with a praise kink (nsfw) -> headcannon

Goes without saying, nsfw warning

Find the request here, sorry it took so long

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had you figured out before you’d figured yourself out.

🪖He knew what was going on in your head before your did.

🪖You were working late one Friday at the Garrison, of course many working men joyously engaging in Friday night drinking and drunkenness while their wives whittled wistfully back home.

🪖You weren’t expecting the Blinders tonight, but of course you’d always find room for the Peaky boys in this establishment, regardless if you were chocker with customers that the bar didn’t really have the capacity for. The door chimed and you spun, peering to see if you had the numbers to accommodate the x amount of customers you had walking through your door.

🪖”Evening boys, meeting or drinks?” You ask, readying yourself to go clean the business Roman that was wordlessly their property. “Just drinks tonight, love” Tommy answered with a small smile and you nod, placing your hands on your hips; balled into fists while you ponder around to find their empty table.

🪖You notice a table of rowdy youngsters occupying the usual Shelby spot and you narrow your eyes at them, internally questioning if you had the inner morals to boot paying customers out of their seats.

🪖”Be a good girl and get us a booth please, sweetheart” Tommy asks, well instructs, as he lights up another cigarette.

🪖He noticed the way your eyes darkened at his request and your lips parted slightly. You nodded. “Of course Tommy, give me a moment lads” you say, heading to the young gentleman to ask them to either head to the open seats at the bar or get gone.

🪖"hiya lads, sorry to bother.” You say as you approach the lot who look at you in question “but I’m afraid we need this booth, happy to serve you up at the bar or I’m sure another will open soon” you wince, apologetically. One scoffs. “Why should we? We’re paying customers?” He asks, beginning to instigate somewhat of an issue, when Tommy swoops in “I believe she asked you nicely” he grunts, and it was almost awe-strucking watching how fast the boys scampered out the door with mediocre apologies.

🪖Thomas wanted to test his small hypothesis again, placing a gentle hand on your lower back “such a good lass to your old Tom, aren’t you?” He hums and he watches as your jaw slackens and you swallow on your own saliva, beginning to stumble around a response. “My pleasure, Tom”

🪖And then a few months later, when he’d taken you out a couple of times you were more widely known as Tommy’s girl than you were your own name.

🪖It was again a Friday evening, usual crowd shuffling to their places and so were the boys.

🪖“evening boys” you smile, handing an older man his shandy as he makes his way back to his missus who was still sipping on her gin.

🪖“evening sweetheart” Tommy smiles, leaning across the bar to peck your lips as the rest of the boys head to their normal spot.

🪖business as usual

🪖you begin pouring their beers automatically, following Tommy to the table with umpteen pints and of course an apple juice for John, whom you’d cut off from alcohol.

🪖“good girl” Tommy applauds as you hand them their drinks, quiet enough that the rest of his rough crowd didn’t hear but loud enough for you to become unsteady on your feet.

🪖you didn’t know when you’d agreed to go home with Tommy. You don’t even remember locking the door to the Garrison. But now he had you buried deep beneath him as he rutted into you and there was nothing you really cared about more right now. If there was a problem you can deal with it when you were finished.

🪖he was trying to coax it out of you. Trying to coax out the fact that you revelled in it when he praised you. And it got him off to see that when other blokes such as Harry called you a ‘good lass’ for a decent shift, you didn’t bat an eyelid.

🪖“Come on love, got one more in you haven’t you?” You shook your head at his question, almost hoping that he’d let you rest after your third. “C’mon sweetheart, don’t you want to be a good girl for your Tommy?” He asks and you nod up at him through dazed eyes. “Hmm?” He asks, holding your jaw still with one hand while the other held him up above you. “Please. Please Tommy. Wanna be good for you” you mumble out, and he smirks - rutting into you at yet again, another relentless pace.

🪖”that’s it. Such a good girl f’me. So so good” he praises as your moans progressively get louder as you mewl beneath him.

🪖and eventually, when you’d both calmed down, he looked at you and smirked “good girl aren’t you?”

🪖”shut up Tom.”

Alfie🧸

🧸Eats that shit up, no crumbs, licks the plate clean.

🧸already kind of babies you, he doesn’t mean too. You’re a few years his younger and as your husband he sees it as his job to protect and provide for you while doting and taking care of you like any good man should.

🧸then one night he comes home a bit late from the bakery, readying to apologise when he’d noticed you’d just finished cooking dinner. “Well here I was all soppy and ready to apologise to you, yeah. And no, my good little girls just gone and made dinner!” He says, almost chuffed. You giggle and plate up the food, sitting across from him as he begins to eat.

🧸”what ‘y doing over there, then?” He scoffs “c’mere.” He instructs as you move to sit in his lap and he relishes in the meal you’d prepared “you’re so good to your old man, aren’t you?” He hums “so so good” he exclaims, only trying to show his appreciation but he noticed your pupils dilate at his words. He brushes it off, nothing major.

🧸later in the evening his sciatica was playing up so you wordlessly left the room to go draw him a bath with some new salts you’d bought from your elderly neighbour whom your husband refused to speak to on account of her being ‘a witch’ as he said.

🧸”oh you are a good’un aren’t you, poppet?” He hums, as he enters the room, allowing you to help him undress and get into the bath, afterwards preparing to make your leave and get him some medicine from the cupboard downstairs.

🧸”and where do you think you’re going?“ he questions, and you raise a brow “to get you some medicine” “I need no such thing. Now get in here w’me.” He grunts and you do as he says, never one to turn down a good relaxing soak in the bath with your husband.

🧸”there you are, good girl aren’t you? Always listening to your old man. What did I do to deserve you. So perfect” he rambled, and doesn’t notice the ever hazing glint in your eye and when he finally looks down at you he narrows his eyes and finally realised what that look was.

🧸his praises got you going.

🧸”tell y’what would make y’old man feel so much better,” he hums and you cock your head ready to help his pain ease “if you be a good girl f’me and give us a distraction” he suggests and you see the smirk unveiling under his beard, as he reaches for your thigh to pull you over his lap and to settle atop of him. “Seeing as you asked so nicely” you mumbled into his shoulder, as you began to rock against him.

🧸”there you go, there’s a good girl” he says as you come undone on top of him and collapse onto his chest, stroking your back gently with one hand and holding you close with the other. “Y’want to move, poppet he asks?” And you shake your head, eyes closed as you recover.

🧸 as soon as his sciatica pain eases up, he was going to abuse that little trick as often as he could.

Arthur🍺

🍺poor baby needs just as much praise as you do. Thinks he’s a shitty partner

🍺but god when he found out it was like finding the fucking Magna Carta.

🍺it was his ticket out of everything. Came home drunk? “I’m so sorry, you’re so good for putting up with me” In a fight? “you’re such a good wife for patching me up” literally anything you’re not agreeing on? “Oh my good girl”

🍺he’d found out when you were already buried beneath his, mewling as he took out his frustrations on you rather than the man he was originally destined to kill that day.

🍺”y’better feel good about y’self.” He grunts “man’s life was saved cause of you, you and this fucking insatiability.” He thrusts and you groan “please” you number “hmm? Feel good? Little saint you are, fuckin’ angel. Stopped me killin’ a man. Wanna get me into heaven do y’angel? Huh? That’s where you’re sending me?” He asks and you groan louder.

🍺”yeah, cause you’re such a good girl aren’t you?” And that’s when you let out the most gluteal pornographic moan that almost stopped his movements, instead it pushes the throttle and sends the both of you over the edge.

🍺”god Id’ve spared hundreds of men if it meant I got to hear that from you”

John🥃

🥃The Shelby family were enjoying an afternoon at the Garrison. Given, it was incredibly backed with gang members and people dissimilar; still the atmosphere was was light and full of laughter.

🥃you’d volunteered for the Saturday shift seeing as Harry needed extra help nowadays seeing as the customer numbers were ever growing.

🥃John was flirting with you, as ever. While you just rolled your eyes at his antics and offered him another drink.

🥃”blimey, I need to drop drinkin’ the hard stuff. I’m seeing an angel!” John feigned surprise, as he took his cap off his head to greet you, plopping it onto your own as he leaned in to kiss your cheek sweetly. “And I’m seeing a man who’s had one too many. I’m cutting you off” you warn, wagging a finger at him. “Well I do like a lady who takes care of her man” he smirks, but was cut off by a voice that altered the atmosphere in the bar.

🥃”I am looking for Thomas Shelby” the voice announced, and you felt uneasy; John’s face darkened as he clearly recognised the man who was a stranger to yourself. You look to the rest of his family who have a similar stature to him on their faces.

🥃”get behind the bar flower” John mumbles to you calmly, “that’s a good girl. Stay down there, sweetheart” he coos as you duck your head out of sight and into the small crawl space under the kegs.

🥃As the conversation continued, John looks over the counter to you discreetly. And your large doe eyes look back, and he could see the trust in them. He leans his hip against the oak bar edge, holding his hand over and motions for you to give him your own. You thread your hand with his, and he strokes the back of your knuckled gently; giving it a squeeze as Harry instructs them to take this out of his pub.

🥃John gives you one last reassuring squeeze of the hand before grabbing an empty beer bottle and heading out the door with his brothers. A few minutes, a couple of shouts and a gun shot the three walked back in as if nothing had happened.

🥃John leans over the bar “y’alright now, good lass” he says as you peer back up and get back up from your seat on the bar. He rests his arms against the wood and grins at you. “Let y’old John reward you f’ being such a good girl, hm?” He raises a brow and honestly expects nothing from his advance.

🥃you look at the clock on the wall and decide Harry could fend for himself for a while. You look at John and wet your lips, leaning down and grabbing his collar to bring him closer to you. “Meet me in the back”

🥃He jumped over the bar.

Bonnie🥊

🥊revels in it without really meaning too.

🥊also uses it to his advantage. He doesn’t mean it, honest.

🥊you were knelt in front of him, sitting back to rest on your ankles as you wrapped his hands for his fight. “You’re so good t’me, thank you angel” he thanks, stroking your jaw with his thumb.

🥊he knew what he was doing to you. Trying to get in your head.

🥊since he’d fallen hard and fast he’d decided that you were it for him. You were his and he was yours and nothing else. Especially when you agreed to live out his gypsy fantasies with him and give up the traditional home you were so accustomed too.

🥊and he was convinced you’d make the best mum.

🥊so this little praise obsession of yours was the perfect way to sway you onto his wavelength.

🥊”you’re gonna be great tonight, Bon” you say, smiling at him comfortingly. “M nervous” he mumbles and you shake your head, holding his hands in yours “it’s gonna be fine, just go out there and do your best. I’ll always be proud of you.” You say and he seems to settle slightly. “Y’d be such a good mother, darling” he tells you, moving some loose hair out of your face and behind your ear.

🥊he notices a slight blush on your cheeks, and decides to pry. “BONNIE; TIME!” His dad shouts through the door and you tap his leg, standing up to give him his good luck kiss. Instead, he slowly walks you back until your back hits the wall, two wrapped hands caging you.

🥊 “hmm, would’y like tha’? A mammy?” He asks and you stare up at him with dazed yet wide eyes. “Oh you’d be such a good mammy. So caring, so sweet. Y’so good t’me imagine how good y’d be to a young’un.” He hums, resting one hand on your waist. “So, so good” he bumps his nose with yours. “Then I’d marry y’a.” He continues “be a good wife too. The best. Such a good girl” he coos and you audibly whine and he smiles.

🥊”y’d like that? Gonna let me make y’a mammy?” He hums, ghosting his lips over yours “BONNIE!” His dad reiterates and Bonnie huffs. “Y’can do whatever Y’want to do to me, bon” you reply hazily and he smiles as you lean up to kiss him deeply, pulling away to lean your forehead on his, hands cradling his face. “After your fight.” You nod and he raises his brows “promise?” You smile back “promise.”

🥊fastest knockout he’d ever done.

Isaiah♟️

♟️uses it against you. Purposefully

♟️defo teases you for it

♟️you’d be at the garrison, having gone accompanying your twin brother Finn and expecting to see your boyfriend there eventually when you weren’t in your usual spot at home.

♟️he’d turned up around half and hour after you had, only looking to get a drink defo not looking for you.

♟️he sees you at the bar, yet by your side was some bloke he didn’t recognise. Some six foot slime ball with his hair slicked back so far it looked like it created a permanent surprised upkeep on his eyebrows. His suit was brand new, Isaiah assumed the tag was still tucked into a pocket somewhere for him to return and scrounge in the morning.

♟️and why were you talking back?

♟️you were drinking something dark, presumably the alcohol Isaiah preferred for you not to have.

♟️had he bought it you?

♟️Isaiah stormed his way over, fully prepared to lay out the man talking to you and throw you over his shoulder and lead you straight out of the pub; but the conversation you were having with the boy stopped you.

♟️”what d’y say love, wanna get out of here?” He asked “and for the fifth time. No. My husband will be here any minute. He’s a blinder y’know?” You scoff “well he ain’t here now, is he?” He asked you when Isaiah sweeper in and pressed his gun to the man’s temple “isn’t he?” He asked, cocking it as the man before you swallowed and visibly began to sweat.

♟️”I suggest you take yourself out of this pub, out of Birmingham and fucking away from my woman.” He grunts, and the man immediately scampers. Then Isaiah looks to you, and the relief decorating your face is immediately apparent.

♟️”oh Isaiah I’m so sorry I tried to get rid of him-” you begin and then your boy begins to smile “your husband?” He asked, raising a brow cockily and you begin to rock back onto your heels “just wanted to get rid of him” you mumble, and he wraps hands around your waist and settles them on the small of your back.

♟️”you’re so good to me, aren’t you doll?” He asks, smirk growing “rejecting other men f’me?” He hums and you nod “y’know good girls get rewarded, don’t you?”

♟️or when you’re not behaving as he’d want you too.

♟️”where d’y think you’re going?“ he asks as you open the door.

♟️”Ada invited me for drinks” “y’not going, not safe. Not w’them Italians crawling round” he instructs, expecting you to shrug off your coat and come join him in the lounge. He turns but hears the door click shut. And when he’d looked, you were gone.

♟️he was fucking fuming, livid, murderous.

♟️and when you’d shown back home at 2 in the morning, hiccuping, he was already stood at the door with his arms crossed.

♟️you smiled “hi Isaiah” you giggled, but he didn’t say anything as he walked you backwards and your back hit the wall. “In what fucking world does a woman not listen to her man?” He asked and you were immediately silenced. “Hmm?” He asks “why did you think you could just go out without me, you know how dangerous it is” he says “well-” “good girls don’t disobey their men, d’they princess” and he noticed how you cowered and sunk into your shell.

♟️he threw you over his shoulder and carried you up the stairs, rutting into you in the bedroom more times than you could count telling you how disappointed in you he was and every time you were close to release, he’d stop and tell you why you didn’t deserve it.

♟️he loved torturing you.

Michael🎱

🎱so belittling with it.

🎱loves to use it against you whenever he can because it always means that he wins

🎱the first time he’d sussed this little predicament of yours out was when you were entertaining him while his brother dealt business with your father deep within the Cotswolds.

🎱you’d served him tea and polite conversation, talking about your purity and how much he idolised you.

🎱”and you’ve no husband?” He asked and he placed his cup on his saucer you and you straightened your posture before responding “no, no husband” you confirm and he is forced to stifle his smirk “well you’d make the perfect wife” he tells you and he notices how you swallow harshly “well that comes appreciated, mister gray” you reply and he narrows his eyes.

🎱and then when you were married and doting on him, he’d always remind you of how he impacted you.

🎱he knew just how to get to you. “Dear, go be a good girl and fix me a drink” and you’d do so. “I’ve got to go to London for the week. Be a good lass and don’t leave the house” and you wouldn’t.

🎱and sometimes he’d take you to family meetings. Personally believing that the women shouldn’t really be at these meetings. But a quick slap to the head from his mother soon sorted him out.

🎱and then he walked in on John shamelessly flirting with you, and he knew full well you weren’t meaningfully engaging with his cousin, it’s what you were taught to do from a young age. But still, you were engaging.

🎱”flirting with my woman, John?” Michael grunted, entering the room to which the former rolled his eyes “just showing her what a real man could give her” he winked at you before swaggering out of the room. “Why did you entertain him?” “I didn’t-” “thought you’d promised to be a good girl for me tonight?” And that shut you right up. The desire to be praised overpowering all.

🎱 “how ‘bout you make it up to me tonight, sweetheart?”

Finn🎞️

🎞️for his whole life, Finn has always been overshadowed by his older brothers. So being able to have so much control over you was so addictively intoxicating that he just loved to abuse his power.

🎞️and he’s at that age in his early twenties when his hormones are heightened and all he wants to do is act like a rabbit in a hutch during mating season.

🎞️and sometimes you weren’t up for it.

🎞️not until he figured you out.

🎞️he’d had you going for three rounds. Overwhelmed from how his brothers had been belittling him all day during business meetings and finally finding a vector to take it out on.

🎞️you’d come undone beneath him, very exhausted from the relentlessness of his actions, when he blurted out “fuck you’re so good at this” as he released inside of you. You mewled and whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Again” you mumbled and he raised his brows “you sure?” He asked and you opened his eyes as he recognised how your irises had deepened two shades and smiled giddily “well alright then”

🎞️so whenever he needed something or someone to release his frustrations on all he had to do was stroke your cheek and call you “my good girl” and you were pretty much tearing his clothes off.

🎞️and even sometimes when he’s upset he uses it to tell you just how much he appreciates you. When times are particularly hard and when he just can’t cope with situations; he’d let you hold and cradle him and rock him back and forth while silent tears sunk down his face “you’re so good to me” he’d mumble over and over again in a sleepy voice until he’d fallen asleep in your arms and you’d manoeuvred him into a comfortable position as his arms tightened around you.

Aberama🌞

🌞oh god this man is insatiable.

🌞defo calls you his ‘good girl’ and doesn’t give a fuck who hears it.

🌞likes to shelter you from everything in this horrible world, thinks it’s his job to protect and shadow you from anything. You were just a dainty young thing with no clue, someone had to step up and he decided he was the man for the job.

🌞just loved to take good care of you so those for eyes stayed innocent and undamaged. Bare and pure unlike his that were darkened and locked with such an intricately pessimistic past

🌞one day Thomas Shelby decided to pay a visit to the camp and Aberama had beckoned you over and you did as you were told, he motioned for you to lean closer as you approached him. “Need you to stay out of the way for a while sweetheart, can you do that for me, is that alright? Just until he goes?” He asks with sweet eyes. You smile and nod at him “good girl, off you go” and you were off into the woods to pick some berries for a recipe you had an idea for.

🌞eventually he’d come looking for you, find you deep into a bush trying to reach a berry that you’d just had to have but couldn’t quite get too. He’d stayed back for a while, leant against a tree while he admired you. Until he’d felt the masculine desire to aid his lady. Coming behind you and placing his hands on your waist as he leant to grab the berry for you. You’d gasped but turned to see him, smiling brightly at him. “Thank you” “anything for you” he replied, pecking your lips gently.

🌞”always willing to help my special girl” he says “can always count on you can’t I?” And the grin turns into a gaping expression, wide and heavy eyes looking at him and he’d decided he had to have you right then and there.

🌞he’d hiked the skirt of your dress up to your waist and told you how much he appreciated you as you screwed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

🌞then he’d carried your worn out, sleeping figure bridal-style back to camp with your basket selection of berries resting in his arm as he looked down at you lovingly.

[luvyeni]

STUCK WITH YOU ๑. ( 송은석 )

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ──── eunseok finally getting everything he wanted in life by finally starting his family with you …

( 対 ) song eunseok + fem. reader wc. 1.5k genre smut · contains! oral sex , breeding kink , unprotected sex , traditional roles mature content. / back to library

for as long as he could remember eunseok wanted two things for when got older — one was to get a wife , a kind wife , one who would actually stick with him when he was sick or healthy. his second was to get a good job so he’d be able to take care of his wife; make sure she’ll never want for anything in this world , he was taught at a very young age that a man was supposed to provide , lead his family; take care of his wife , his father did it to his mother and he’d do it for his.

during his first year of college he found that someone in you. both of you fresh out of high school , you started out as friends , but he soon found out he wanted more. in your second year he asked you to be his girlfriend ; in your third year he asked you move in with him , both of you working hard together to pay the bills , that wasn’t what he wanted. he knew in his freshman year he wanted to marry you , so seeing you ; his future wife work yourself plus school made him feel like a failure , so he worked 10x as harder , studied day in night to get his degree — and not once did you leave his side , you made him meals , stayed up with him when his projects ran into the early mornings , even held him when he broke down in tears due to frustration.

that’s how he knew you were the one; and that’s why you were married only a few months after your graduation ; and luckily for you , due to his hard work and late nights , you new husband had dozens of high paying job opportunities waiting for him after school and you never had to step foot in a job — however he never stopped you from doing what you wanted , he never forced you to work or to stay home. which is why after only a year of working ; you quit much to eunseok delight , he could finally take care of you like he promised himself in freshman year.

that was almost three years ago; and things couldn’t be better — well there was one thing; one thing eunseok wanted; children , to have a family. a family with you , his beautiful wife.

you waited for eunseok to come home much like you did everyday; it wasn’t as boring as you thought it would be; most times you filled the day with cleaning or going out with friends when they don’t have to work or other life duties , given all your free time you’re able to do whatever hobbie you want — but you still sometimes longed for more , a baby. you longed to be mother , a beautiful child that you shared with your wonderful husband.

neither one of you voiced the want; however you both could tell you were both ready to take that next step in your lives. “hello my beautiful wife.” eunseok wrapped his arms around your waist. “you’re home?” he kissed your cheek , he did this every single night he wasn’t working late. “what smell so good?” he asked , looking over your shoulder into the pot. “your favorite , we haven’t had it in a while so i got the ingredients from the market when i went to stock up on things for your lunch.” you said turning the oven off , turning to face him , wrapping your arms around him. “did you like your lunch today?”

he hummed nodding , “besides the guys in the office yelling at me because the hello kitty shaped apples then yes i enjoyed it.” he laughed watching you roll your eyes. “not my fault their wives only pack them soggy sandwiches filled with hatred and despair.” he tapped your lip. “stop that.” you smiled. “fine , let’s eat dinner while it’s hot.” you took his hand hiding him to the table , letting him sit down while you made his plate. “so what did you do today?”

you say down next to him with your food; ready to tell him about your day. “i went to the park today and had coffee with a friend.” you said. “i did some shopping.” you said cheekily. “im sure you did , what did you get?” he asked. “some new dresses and some more towels for the bathroom , and i bought this little girl some sweets after she lost her mother and i helped her find her.”

eunseok smiled listening to you go on and on about the little girl you saved today. “you had an adventurous day with the little girl today.” he said , you nodded. “i can’t wait to do that with our own one day.” you twiddled with your fingers. “yeah?” he said , you nodded. “i think i would make a good mom, no?” he quickly validated your question. “of course you would , you’d be the best mommy.” he said , you smiled. “how many do you want?”

you looked at him in his eyes; his pupils noticeably darker. “how many babies do want?” his voice’s deeper. “tw-two.” you replied, he shook his head. “come here.” he patted his lap, you happily got up sitting in your mans lap. “so pretty.” he whispered in your ear. “my beautiful wife , you so much for me don’t you?” he kissed your cheek. “you make my meals , wash my clothes , keep me satisfied.” his hands coming up to your boob , squeezing. “eunseok.” you let out a small moan. “you’d look so pretty swollen with my child.”

you could feel his cock hardening in his pants. “you feel that baby? how bad i want to give you a baby?” he groaned. “wanna fuck you full of my babies.” he tapped your legs , signaling you to get up. “come on baby, let's go to the room so you can be comfortable.” he lifted you up , taking you back to your shared bedroom. “eunseok please.” he shushed you. “i’ll give you what you want.”

his hands traveling all around your body; pulling your pants down when he gets to your waist. “my beautiful wife.” he spreads your legs more. “such a pretty pussy.” he bent down , kissing your thighs. “you smell so good.” his nose brushing against your clit , you whimpered. “se-seok.” he licked your folds , holding your thighs apart as he ate you out. eunseok was always generous when it came to pleasuring you , he never put his pleasure before you even when he needed you desperately. repeatedly licking your folds , sucking on your clit , your hands flying to his fluffy locks; grinding up against his face.

being with you for so long; he knew you were about to cum. “pretty girl , gonna cum?” he used his thumb to rub your swollen nub. “ye-yeah.” you gasped out. “be a good girl and cum for me.” he could never get tired of you cumming , the way your face twisted in such a beautiful way , lips parted slightly as you let yourself go on his fingers. “that’s it - shit you looks so good , cumming all over my fingers like that.” pulling his pants down to free his cock. “eunseok i want your cock.”

“yeah?” he smirked , grabbing his cock stroking it before pressing it against your hole; letting himself sink inside you; stretching you out. “eunseok.” he groaned as he bottomed out. “oh fuck , i love the way you feel around me.” he moved his hips , his hand holding your waist , his wedding band digging slightly into your skin. “can’t wait to give you a kid.” he grunted. “keep you swollen with my kids , your tits plump and full of milk.” he pinched your nipples as he pounded into you. “keep your pretty pussy full of my cum.” you moaned out. “please i want it.” you sobbed. “i want your cum so bad , i want a baby.”

he cursed under his breath; hissing as you clenched around him. “fuck i’m gonna breed you; fuck you full of my seed.” he groaned ; speeding up his pace; holding your legs open. “fuck i love you so much.” he kissed your lips. “can’t wait to come home and see you pregnant with my baby.” you moaned , chasing his lips for a kiss. “eunseok im gonna cum.” your legs shaking as you came , clenching around him tightly. “sh-shit i’m gonna cum.” he grunted. “gonna breed you -fuck- be a good girl and take my cum.”

he stilled himself inside you; his cock twitching as you felt him shoot ropes of his cum inside you. “shit.” his forehead pressed against yours , both of you heavy breathing as you both came down from your highs. “i love you so much.” he kissed your lips. “so so much.”

he pulled out of you; letting you lay there as he got the bath ready for you; something he did almost every single time you had sex. “come on , let’s get you cleaned up.”

your back was pressed against his chest , his hands massaging your body. your head , leaning back against his shoulder. “you feel good?” you nodded. “good , that means i’m doing something right.” he said. “can’t wait to do this every night when you’re pregnant.” you smiled. “you really want a baby?” he hummed. “the moment i saw you i knew i wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.” he said. “to take care of you and give you everything you ever wanted and then come home to you and our kids.” he could see his life coming together fully.

“i can’t wait.”

©️LUVYENI

[thissying]

interview with Richard Pex about Max's go-karting days Formule1 magazine, The Year of Max 2024

"At some point I knew Jos and Sophie from the go-kart track in Genk. I was there, riding with my two eldest sons. But with Stan who was four years old then, too. At some point Sophie came up to me together with Max and said: 'Max wants me to ask you how old Stan is.' I said four and then Max said: 'See. I'm five already and I still have to wait until I'm six.' Jos wanted him to wait until he was six but I asked Max: 'Would you like to drive?' Sophie didn't really want that but we did it anyway."

A few innocent laps with great consequences, Richard realises more than twenty years later. "A couple of days later Jos called me. 'Yes, thank you very much', he said. 'Now I have to buy Max a kart.' That's how it started. We agreed then to go karting together more often. Sparring and training. I raced too but I couldn't keep up with Jos. 'Well, you have a better engine', I said to him. 'Okay', Jos said then, 'then I'll fix this engine for you before the Dutch Championship in Amsterdam.' I went like a rocket during practices but at some point I thought: is that Jos over there? He'd been curious about how things were going and had come to Amsterdam for that. 'Can I spend the night in the trailer? Because I'd like to see the race tomorrow', he asked. Typical Jos: pure passion. We clicked and that's how our friendship started."

Verstappen's go-kart team was run by Frans [ed. Max's grandpa]. Because Jos was still active in F1 and couldn't be there for everything. On top of that, Frans and Jos were busy with the boys that drove for the team and sometimes that was at the expense of Max. "In Genk the mini's were allowed on track for fifteen minutes of every hour. Then Max came over and said: 'Daddy, I want to drive too.' At some point Jos was done with it. He said: 'This isn't right. I'm constantly busy with others and then when my son comes and asks me to drive, I don't have time. You know what I'm going to do? I will quit the team. From now on I'm only going to focus on Max. He really wants it, wants to drive so badly. Do you want to do this together with me?'"

Richard didn't need to think about it for long. "My sons were driving as well, so that sounded good to me. 'Okay, then we'll buy a van and we'll do it together', Jos said then. From that moment on we were together almost day and night, at the go-kart track or the business in Maasbracht. There, in that factory hall, we set up a workshop and from there we started working. I think I've been at all Max's go-kart races. It was an incredible time. Very hard work but wonderful. Jos was busy every day, from morning until night. Max went to school, (laughing) sometimes not, but after that he was always there. To tinker or drive. Often they were eighteen hour days because I still had my own company as well. But we had a lot of succes. Jorrit became world champion [ed. in 2006] in Portimão. Jos was his mechanic. Max was there, Stan, our wives. I still get goosebumps now. Especially that look from Max to Jorrit in that moment. You could see the passion in Max's eyes, the will to achieve the same. I can still see Jos caressing his little head, telling him: 'Your time will come.' Unforgettable." That Max had the talent and gift to go far in the racing world became clear very quickly. But everything that happened behind the scenes and what was needed to facilitate young Max optimally is rather underexposed. Richard was there from day one and got sucked in. "The brakes were off with Jos. Everything had to move out of the way for the higher goal. Jos always said: 'Max just has to perform, then everything else will follow.' He made it as difficult as possible for Max; he raised the bar a little every time. Jos felt Max should race with older boys. He had the luck he could often spar with Jorrit, who is five years older. What Max didn't know, was that sometimes Jos added lead to his go-kart and wasn't satisfied until he was as fast as everyone else. Every Wednesday afternoon we went to Genk. I picked up Jorrit and then we took the van to Maaseik to pick up Max from school. He was always the first one to run onto the playground to get in, rain or shine. I think we must have been in Genk 48 Wednesdays out of the 52. Going on holiday was another thing. We always took the van because we'd go on holiday near go-kart tracks. The deal was: one day at the beach and the other day the boys were allowed to kart. That quickly turned into karting every day. Often at unknown tracks and then Jos would say: 'Lap 8 will be pole-position time. Not lap 25 because then you boys will know the track already', That's how it went."

Max was fast right away, showed his famed ruthlessness already at a young age and could match the absolute top of the world in karting. That didn't happen without a fight. The competition watched with disbelief which lead to plenty of speculation that cheating was involved. Jealousy reared its head but not with the person that should have been bothered the most: Jorrit Pex. "Jos and I also often watched in disbelief at how fast Max was. Jos would then compare Max's data to Jorrit's and point out the mistakes he made. Max would often get into a discussion, did not hide away and would then talk to Jorrit. Recently, in an interview, he said: 'I learned a lot from Jorrit.' I liked that." Jealousy wasn't an issue because Jorrit is so different from Max, character-wise. "Jorrit also said: 'give Max the best material. He must become world champion.' That's what he was like. Jorrit didn't have any issues with that. He wanted that for Max. I also noticed Jorrit was more of a homebody. He enjoys going away but mostly he really enjoys being home a lot. Because he'd already said he wanted to run the company with [brother] Yard, the choice was clear. There never was any envy. Not from me either. I was there for everything, been through it all and it was fantastic."

That Max had just that little bit extra, Richard and Jos discovered empirically. "Jorrit and Max were sparring with equal karts. Engines that ran equally fast, same weight, no difference whatsoever. And yet, on the straight Max went just that bit faster every time. If you didn't know better, you'd think: he's got a better engine. Even I started having doubts and Jos too wanted to know now. 'You know what?' Jos said, 'We're going to exchanges the engines.' Nothing changed. Max was a tad faster again. It meant that Max came out of the corner with more speed and therefore was at top-speed more quickly. How he does it, I don't know either. That's pure talent. You can still see it with him now, in Formula1 as well. Max had a good engine but not a better one than the competition. It was purely Max. He had and still has that little bit extra. Tire management, technique of taking corners, attack, defend - Max mastered it down to the last detail. He had good equipment but he did not become European and world champion because he had the best material."

The straightforwardness of the Verstappens is not appreciated all around. In F1, with all its egos, disagreement is never far away. Conflicts lurk in a world where the competition is razor-sharp. Jos was (is) extremely black and white. Max will occasionally accept a shade of grey but only if he's being utterly convinced he's wrong. How did Richard Pex manage to never let those powder kegs explode? The Limburger laughs. "I read or hear stories that make me go: how do they come up with that? Yes, Jos was tough but I've never seen Jos box Max's ear. And I was there for everything. Me and Jos click. We're true friends, through thick and thin. We've been through all the ups and downs and talked about everything. We slept in the van together, were together 24/7 most of the time. Of course I wondered sometimes: how will we manage this? Jos wasn't the easiest person but we always talked things through and turned out okay. And we're both proud of that. We've got, I think, rather the same character: honest, straightforward. We didn't always agree but that was also to up the pressure. I'd say: 'Jos what you're working on now, won't work.' 'Oh yeah?' he say then, and start working like a madman to prove the opposite.

[…]

Max mediated to have Richard and his best friend Stan as a guest in Abu Dhabi in 2021 for the heroic grand finale of the battle between Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen. "Now I have to be careful otherwise I'll become very emotional. Nothing will ever be more beautiful than that. That I got to be there for that… Pfff. Max said before that: 'You and Stan are coming with us to Abu Dhabi.' Yeah, that's something you'll never forget. Together in the car on the way to the track. Talking about go-karting and the past. On the day of the race Max said: 'Richard, this is the big day. I'm going for it fully. It's going to be difficult but you never know. And then it happens. That last lap, I knew: now he's going to get it. Afterwards tears flow. "I saw everything again. Max on that crate, Jos kneeling before him. The look between those two. I saw those icy cold little hands again, the tears in his eyes when Jos had sent him back on track in the rain and cold in Genk again. Unfortunately we don't see Max a lot any more, but that will change again. I'm certain he still thinks the karting days were the best time of his life and not the present. When the helmet is on, he's the driver but he doesn't give a damn about the whole circus around it in F1."

[…]

Richard Pex has been there for all of it. Nobody that - except for dad Jos of course - knows Max Verstappen better than this Limburger. "Even in karting I already said: it's Max who makes the difference and when he gets to F1 and he's got equal equipment, it will be: start, away and done. That's how it was and still is."

[55sturn]

✮ SAYIN’ SORRY FOR THAT NIGHT

series masterlist!

paring: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

synopsis: in which y/n is greeted by a sudden revelation on the night of chris’ most anticipated game, the one that determines whether or not the bruins get into the playoffs and she’s left apologizing for the night that caused it all.

warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions and descriptions of violent fights, verbal arguments, unplanned pregnancy, discussion of abortions, comments from the other team and hecklers, open ending, angst, angst, angst, and more angst.

THIRD PERSON POV

to be in the limelight alone is tough. to be in it for something such a hockey, where a million and one eyes are watching your every move, scrutinizing every play you make, every workout you do to toughen your body and build your endurance for the tasking time spent on the ice is even tougher, but to do all of that with a public relationship is the toughest thing.

chris knew that announcing his relationship at the peak of his career with the boston bruins was not going to be easy. he had all eyes on him as the bruins' newest right winger, but not only was he the newest player, he was also the youngest to join in years.

just like connor mcdavid's rise to fame with the edmonton oilers, chris was in the spotlight and it wasn't easy. he was in the spotlight because he was a phenomenal player with a chipper attitude that most hockey players don't seem to have. he had been scouted at one of his toughest games in his college career and almost immediately the contracts began flowing and the drafting process had started.

as eyes of everyone involved in the hockey world began to shift to the star of what they called "the boston bruins' new era and future captain", so did the female attention. not only was chris good at what he did, but he was insanely good looking, at least to the younger female demographic that had taken an interest in hockey.

but he didn't care for the, for a lack of a better name, puck bunnies or the future hockey wives in training, he had his own hockey wife sitting front row in the v.i.p section at every game, smiling as she watched him zip back and forth between his teammates and the teammates that he was facing

as he announced who the mystery girl in his practice jersey at every game was, he faced an onslaught of even more hate disguised as criticism and scrutiny from devout bruins fans, potential drafting scouts, and anyone willing to spare an opinion. but as the rather distasteful comments rolled in, his skin grew thicker, because as long as he had her to go home to, he could handle it.

PRESENT TIME

chris sat on the bench in the hallway adorning the infamous bruins logos, each brick in the wall holding some sort of history of the team, twirling tape around the blade of his stick. he found the dressing room too stuffy right before a game, so he and john beecher sat outside the dressing room, joking amongst themselves as they prepared for the game.

"cmon man, you played big games before you'll be fine." john chuckled, handing chris back his spare roll of stick tape as chris sighed.

"i know, it's just a big fuckin' game tonight. haven't played montreal yet."

"wait this is your first game against montreal?"

"yes and as a boston native, i know this is the game, just don't wanna fuck up when this decides whether or not we make it to playoffs."

"kid you'll be fine, you've outdone mcdavid's first year and that's pretty fuckin' bizarre 'cause he's a powerhouse." beecher reassured, clapping the young right winger on the shoulder before heading back to the dressing room. chris stared at the wall across, still struggling to comprehend how his life has become the way it is, he's incredibly grateful for the opportunities he's gotten and proud of the work he's put in, it's just still hard to fathom.

sensing that she should give her boyfriend a quick visit before he went on to the ice, y/n made her way through the crowds of people, smiling at the fans that addressed her, politely declining to take pictures until after the game. she proudly donned a large "8" and the name "STURNIOLO" scrawled across the back of a black away-game jersey and black jeans and her trusty, yet dirty, air forces, proudly showing her support for the man she's loved for six years, since she was a small fourteen year old navigating her year of high school with the triplets by her side.

the thin plastic stick weighed heavy in the pocket of her hoodie she wore beneath the jersey, she was about to tell chris about it, to give him a little motivation to play extra hard. but when she spotted the reporter’s mic pointed toward his helmet covered face, she placed that idea on the back burner. smiling she approached chris,

“hey mister big shot.” she laughed, causing chris to grin as he introduced her to the reported as his girlfriend. the reporter quickly bid the couple goodbye, leaving them to have their moment together.

“hey so i’ve got some really good news for you.” y/n smiled, smoothing her hands over his shoulder pads as he tugged off his helmet, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

“listen i wanna go be apart of the chant so i need to go, can this news wait?”

“i guess so. give ‘em hell baby, i love you.”

“always ma, i love you.” chris replied, bouncing on his skates slightly before shoving his helmet back on, quickly shoving his way through the door leading to short hallway his team would walk through.

y/n stared at his back, watching him fade away as she was left to mull over the news she was about to tell chris. it was the start of his career and she didn’t want to derail it any, so the choice between telling him now or tell him in a month waged a violent war in her mind.

shaking her head, she made her way back to the staircase leading to the v.i.p section, as she wove through crowds of people, she heard the gasps and murmurs.

“that’s who the new bruins guy is dating? i won’t be shocked when he starts fucking the puck sluts in a month.”

“she looks out of place and that jersey is so unflattering on her.”

“i hope sturniolo comes to his senses and dumps her ass soon.”

scoffing, y/n climbed the stairs, pushing the overwhelmingly upsetting thoughts from her mind as she spotted nick and matt in their seats. breaking the news to someone was imperative to her, not telling someone would break her but she didn’t know whether she should tell someone before chris.

of course she and chris had talked about their views on starting a family together and the idea of raising a baby together but there was one issue,

chris wanted to wait until secured a long term contract with the bruins. he didn’t want anything to deter his plans. and y/n understood, he has worked so unbelievably hard to get to the position he’s in now. starting a family takes a lot of dedication, time, effort, and devotion without distractions. chris was concerned that if they had a baby early on in his professional hockey career, she’d be left alone to carry out so many of the responsibilities that being a parent brought on.

so as y/n made her way to her designated seat, her heart felt heavy. her doubts only grew with every step she took, and it felt like her body had been held down, it was as if she had cinder blocks chained to her ankles. as she sat beside nick, he picked up on her mood, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that sonething was bothering her though. nick bumped her elbow with his, as if to ask what’s wrong and she just smiled and shook her head.

mary-lou, who was sat behind y/n and her three sons, immediately knew what was going on. y/n had a certain glow to her, despite the sorrowful look that had become deeply etched into her skin. she knew that pained expression anywhere, she understood what the taut shoulders, pinched eyebrows, and distraught gleam in her eyes all too well. but the older woman put her excitement about becoming a grandmother off to the side, deciding she’d wait to gloat until y/n had accepted the idea her self.

the family conversed among themselves while the teams prepared to saunter out onto the ice, letting the fans get hyped up. a voice boomed from above, prompting cheers and hollers from the people taking up the stands.

“please welcome your home team, the boston bruins!” the commentator exclaimed, dragging out the words boston bruins in typical emcee fashion, allowing the fans and supporters chant for their team as he played the bruins’ intro song as they skated onto the ice one by one, the emcee announcing the names and numbers above the music.

y/n couldn’t help but lett the pride and excitement she felt show brightly on her face, despite the worries she suffered deep down. she was so incredibly proud of chris, him landing a secure spot on the bruins was a long time coming. it was his dream back in high school the moment he secured a spot on his high school’s team with ease. he was a natural born hockey player and it showed through the surplus of dedication he put into it. and y/n felt more than lucky to be there on the sidelines from the very beginning.

as the emcee asked from everyone to stand for the national anthem, a cheesy grin broke out on her face as chris stood on the offensive line facing the vip box, and pointed up to where he knew she’d be sitting before forming his hand into the best half heart possible that his bulky gloves would allow. she felt her cheeks warm with a deep blush as chris’ family playfully teased her for having their brother and son completely and unfalteringly whipped.

“shut up!” she laughed, her nerves drifting away as the game started. the excitement she never failed to feel at every single one of chris’ games, whether it was just him filling in for the local adult men’s teams or an exhibition game for his old college team, she was always filled with adrenaline as she stood and sat in the stands.

but that was expected when born into a city that favours the winter sport, you were either born with the excitement coursing through your veins or you were born with a deep hatred for it filling every crevice of your body. there was no in between.

y/n cheered along with chris’ family as he zipped, swerved, bobbed, and weaved up and down the ice. that was one thing that most players envied chris for, he was fast and slick, almost as if he was water slipping through your fingers.

and not only was he fast, he held great control over the puck as she moved down the ice, the puck never got away from him as he maneuvered it between players, alternating which side his stick was covering and pushing it.

there was fifteen seconds left in the second period and both montreal and boston held three goals each as chris stood for a moment back checking as his teammates guarding him, and with five seconds ticking down, he delivered a brutal slap shot, sending the puck into the net behind carey price who had dropped to block it a second too late.

the bruins fans’ side of the stands erupted in loud cheers, and so did y/n and chris’ family, his parents laughing giddily as matt made a backhanded comment about price being too old for goaltending.

“i will be right back, i have to use the washroom.” y/n interjects, letting nick know where she’d while the rest of them grabbed drinks.

“yo y/n, you drink budlight right?” justin hums, causing her stomach to drop, her usual habit of having a beer with them at chris’ games being something she hadn’t even considered.

“uh can you just grab me an iced tea? i’ve got an early appointment tomorrow and i’d rather not show up at my doctor’s smelling like beer.” she laughs nervously, causing justin to shrug and accept her answer before heading off to the concession stand near the entrance of the vip box.

“i’ll come with you, i’ve got to use the ladie’s room too.” mary-lou hums, smiling appreciatively as y/n waited for her.

however as they made their way to back of the section they were sitting in, mary-lou motioned for y/n to follow her out into the small hallway that lead to the smoking doors, it was empty as the two stood there.

“how far along are you?” mary-lou whispers, unable to withhold her suspicions any longer, and the abrupt question had y/n’s stomach twisting into more knots than it was already in.

“wha-how did you figure it out?”

“i’ve had my suspicions for a while, the last time you were over i heard you throwing up, and you’ve got the pregnancy glow. plus you’ve been wearing baggy clothes and you aren’t drinking tonight.”

“fuck. sorry for my language. but i think i’m about two and a half months along. last month i just thought my period was late because i was sick and when i get sick, my period is normally late. but then i missed this month’s too and it clicked.”

“have you told chris yet?” mary-lou spoke, her voice soft as she rest a reassuring hand on her future daughter in law’s arm as she shook her head.

“i wanted to tell him before the game, to give him a little motive to play harder but he didn’t want to miss the chant and pep talk so he left before i could say anything about it. i’ve got the test in my pocket and i know it’s not smart to go off just one test so that’s why i’m going to the doctor tomorrow.”

“well i think you should tell him, i think he’ll be happy.”

“that’s what i’m worried about, he wanted to wait until he secured a long term contract. we had this conversation about a month ago.”

“you can’t necessarily control these things. a family comes to be when it’s meant to happen, not when you want it to happen.”

mary-lou’s words stuck deep in y/n’s mind. she knew that chris’ mother was right. y/n had just wished her and chris were a bit more careful that drunken night in the hotel.

FLASHBACK

chris and y/n’s drunken giggles bounced off the walls as they pushed their way into their room. they had gone out for dinner with the team and eventually broke off on their own after swiping two of the complementary bottles of champagne that the teams managers had provided.

they stumbled through the city after hiding in an empty room in the banquet hall, chugging the nasty liquor as quick as they could handle on empty stomachs.

“god baby, you look so pretty in this dress, just wanna tear it off you.” chris rasped, his cheeks flushing and eyes drooping, from the alcohol, or the effect his girlfriend had on him, or maybe even both, she wasn’t quite sure. making him look all the more enticing to y/n.

“do it then.” y/n slurred back, pulling chris into a messy, sloppy, yet incredibly hot, like searingly hot, make out, chris’ hands roamed her body feverishly, unable to stay in one place very long.

as their ministration progressed, so did their desire for one another and the lingering buzz they had from the alcohol left room for a few less than sound decisions. chris drunkenly justified going in raw by saying “just wanna feel as close to you as possible.” and that was all the convincing y/n needed, but she made him promise to pull out in time.

but due to their inebriation, chris wasn’t quick enough but they had long forgotten it by the time morning came.

FLASHBACK OVER

and now she was paying the price for them being reckless. sighing, she made her way back to her seat just as the intermission ended and chris' team made their way back to the home bench, their net switching back to the end they started out on.

it wasn't too far into the third period when the canadiens were getting aggressive, the score was eight to five in favour of boston and montreal was getting mad that they were losing the game, the most awaited game since it was announced boston and montreal would be facing each other to land a bracket in the playoffs.

the fact that it was also playoff season made y/n's stomach twist even tighter, she felt sick. she was so scared she was going to fuck up chris' life plan and she couldn't bear that idea.

but her current worries were thrown on the back burner when she watched a much bigger player from montreal's team check chris, sending him flying back against the ice, his head ricocheting off the ice, leaving chris laying flat on the ice.

chris' coach calls a time-out while paramedics quickly make their way onto the ice, carrying chris off the ice, and before y/n could react, she was pushing her way through the bustling crowd and stomping down the stairs, quickly sprinting to chris' change room.

"i'm sorry ma'am but you can't be in here."

"i'm his fiance." y/n spits, pushing her way into the change room, immediately rushing to chris, raising her hand to play with his hair, pausing momentarily to silently ask for permission which was granted by him leaning into her touch.

"we're okay, if anything happens, we'll call for you." chris rasps, waving away the paramedics, sighing sadly after being told he's not allowed back on the ice for the rest of the game to prevent being knocked around again because he was highly vulnerable to getting a concussion right now.

"tell me something to distract me, baby." chris whispers, pulling y/n into his lap, the bulky padding beneath her feeling foreign as she leans her head on his shoulder.

"i'm not sure what to talk about." she laughs as he rubs his hand back and forth along her thigh.

"your news from earlier."

"oh." she squeaks, her voice almost inaudible as she realizes that it's now or never. sighing, she grabs the test out of her pocket from beneath the spare jersey she wore, placing it into chris' hand with a heartbroken expression and timid voice,

"we're pregnant, chris."

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[goldenlikedayl1ght]

weren't we the stars in heaven? | m. murdock

a/n: hi guys. so sorry i haven't posted a full length fic about matt in a while so as a sorry here's a BEAST of a fic. i have nothing much to say about this, but i will say that i am not thrilled with the ending but oh well. enjoy! i'm gonna go take a nap but i am really proud of this so if you guys like it, let me know! warnings: oh boy. so many things. cursing, use of weed, drinking, matt is married but it's an open marriage, lots of religious imagery, sex, rough fucking, unprotected sex, no use of y/n, lowkey some mean matt smut, his kid is autistic but its not mentioned a ton, reader is hard of hearing but its only mentioned once, female reader with female anatomy, age gap, nicknames, ANGST, dirty talk, hella flirting and pining, just. it's a lot. word count: 9.2k (holy moly) summary: you develop a crush on a friend of your dad's from work. the only problem is that he's married, twice your age, and you babysit his son. pairing: dbf!matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: anything - adrianne lenker "lay on your lap when i'm crying/weren't we the stars in heaven?/weren't we the salt in the sea?/dragon in the new warm mountain/didn't you believe me?"

Spring

A week at home is too long. You think about how torturous a whole summer here will be. It’s almost enough to make you sign up to be a summer orientation leader or even a tour leader. Almost. The pay isn’t that good to stay in the dorms without AC all summer.

Of course, your mother asks you to go to church on Easter Sunday and because she did your laundry and cooked you your first home-cooked meal in months, you oblige her.

And as you’re sitting there, on your knees with your hands folded, your eyes peek open, beginning to wander around the church. It’s way too hot in this church, and you are bored out of your mind.

You realize you are the only one who is bored out of your mind. Well.. Almost.

Your gaze catches onto a man who looks just as bored as you do, only, you can’t really tell if he’s looking at you. You lean your head back and roll your eyes, trying to signal how god damn bored you are to him. He just smirks, and your heart flutters.

It almost looks like his smirk widens at that.

Your face flushes and you just put your head back down, closing your eyes as if you’ve been caught doing something you’re not supposed to.

Eventually when the service is over, you’re still thinking about the strange man on the other side of the church as you sip church lemonade that is way too sweet—But you’ve been up for hours and this is the first thing you’ve had since you woke up.

Your parents are making pleasant conversations with various friends they know, and you smile awkwardly at friends from high school. You almost choke on your lemonade when you see the man make his way out of the church, his arm hooked to a woman’s as he taps a cane against the pavement, a young boy next to them as well.

And before you know it, the family of three is approaching your family and your ears are burning red.

Your dad happily shakes his hand and pulls him in for one of those weird man hugs that you don’t really understand, as your mother does one of those weird moves where she presses her cheek against his wives.

Your father gestures over to you and says, “This is our daughter,” And he gives them your name, “She’s home for spring break from school.”

You wave to the kid, before shaking the wife’s hand, and then his— His hand is warm. Your heart is racing and you just shake his hand, trying to ignore the soft squeeze that accompanies the shake.

“Matthew,” He introduces himself like your insides aren’t discombobulated, “Matthew Murdock.” You just look at him, blinking for a second, and your mind begins to wander. How did he know you were rolling your eyes in the church if he’s blind? And how is he so hot?

You think you might die—Your face is flushed, and you think for sure that you’ve been caught, and that his wife will see right through this little charade and knows that you have a huge crush on her husband, whom you just met. He must know what he’s doing because he just smirks at you and opens his mouth to say something, but your mom just looks at you with a look of concern.

“Honey, are you alright?” she asks, “You look warm,” You shake your head with a soft smile.

“No, I’m uh.. Well, I think I’m gonna take a quick walk, find some shade—Excuse me.” You say politely, but before you can leave the conversation, Matt smiles,

“I’ll come with you. I could use the fresh air.” He offers, and you almost say no, but your mom smiles like she’s trying to fucking kill you—

“What a wonderful idea, You can tell Mr. Murdock all about your studies.” She offers, and something in your stomach twists with embarrassment—the way she phrases it makes you sound so.. young. So, you just offer Matt your arm, and he hooks his hand onto it like it’s casual.

And so, the pair of you walk through the courtyard of the church, eventually finding a bench where the sun barely creeps through the leaves of the willow tree that hangs over it, and the pair of you sit down, silence overwhelming you.

“So, what’s your major?”

“Oh, uh—English. I’m an English major.” You say, almost ashamed at how boring you sound, “And.. what do you do?”

“I’m a Lawyer,” he smiles. Your dad is a security guard at the court you have in town, so there’s no question of how they know each other.

“Your wife seems nice,” you blurt out, wanting to say something nicer to convince him—maybe yourself, that you really truly are not jealous of a woman you just met.

“She is,” he answers politely, as if that’s.. the kindest thing he can say about her.

“What’s your son’s name?” You ask curiously.

“Lucas.” He smiles fondly now, and your heart melts at the thought that this man truly feels nothing but pure, burning affection for his son. “When do you go back to school?” He asks curiously.

“Oh, tomorrow.” You smile, “Thank god.”

Then, he catches you off guard.

“That’s the most genuine thing you’ve said since we sat down.” He smirks, “Not a fan of your hometown?”

You don’t know how to explain it, not really—When you were applying to college, your mom asked you if you wanted to apply to any local colleges. And while you’re persistent that there’s nothing wrong with community college, you were sure that you needed to get out of here, or else you think you would’ve died.

But, you owe Matt an explanation.. Well, maybe you don’t, but you think you do.

“It’s not that,” You promise, “There’s just something about being here that brings out the worst in people.” You sigh.

His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, and while it’s subtle, you notice the way that his thumb rubs against your skin, and you might melt right into him.

“Don’t let anyone ever shame you for leaving.” He offers gently, and you think you just about fall in love with him. Then, his head picks up as the screechy tone of his wife calling for him interrupts your conversation. He just sighs, and makes a bold move—his hand goes to your thigh and gently, just barely, rubs his fingers against the fabric of your sundress, the tips of his fingers teasing your skin. “Well, I’ll.. see you in the summer then?” he ponders.

“Uh-huh..” You say, your eyes soft with want. Then, he walks right out of your life.

Summer

As spring melted into summer, and as you finished the rest of your finals, your dad picks you up from your dorm, packing everything you hold near and dear into his truck, and then starting the drive home.

For the past month and a half, you have heard nothing about Matt or his family. Sometimes, you ask your parents, ‘How’s your job, how’s the church’, begging for any crumbs of information about Matt. And you aren’t even sure why, because in your mind, he is very happily married.

It takes about a week. You sit, day after day, summer job hunting, waiting to be doomed to minimum wage and exhausting hours. Then, your mom comes home with groceries and a smile that you know can only mean bad news.

“I found you a job!” She declares happily, as you put the milk in the fridge.

“In the dairy aisle of the grocery store?” You question, and she laughs.

“No, no, I found you a babysitting job for the summer.” She smiles. “For the Murdocks!”

You squeeze the orange in your hand so hard that your thumbnails pierce it as orange juice drips down your hands, blinking before throwing out the orange, your hand reeking of the tangerine, fingers sticky with sugar.

“I’m sorry?” You manage to squeak out.

“You’re going to be babysitting their son, Lucas. They both work from nine to five, sometimes later. You’d get paid to just hangout with the kid,” She shrugged with a soft smile.

Oh, great. You’re gonna be trapped in the man’s house, looking after his kid. Fucking amazing.

-

But, you really don’t even see Matt, especially not the first day. Well, really, you barely see him over the course of the first week, but you get whispers of him, and it’s almost worse. You see his graduation photos, his wedding photos, a photo of him holding Lucas in the hospital.

You see his office door cracked open, you see a mug with his name on it, you see his wedding ring on the table—

You see his wedding ring on the table?

He’s elusive. But, from the fragmented sentences you get from Lucas, he tells you how his parents aren’t quite like other couples. Your mind is caught on the fact that Matt and his wife might not be 100 percent happy together, and then you feel guilty that you want to take it as an opportunity to comfort him, in the least Godly way possible.

Matt and Lucas’ mother will be working late tonight, she tells you in the morning, there’s money for dinner on the counter, and you can just relax until they get home.

Lucas drags you all over town that day. The park, the comic bookstore, and then you spend two hours in target, trying to find anything related to Bluey or Cars 2, the only two things he wants to talk about. Your body is sore from looking after him. He’s a very nice kid, but you recognize that he’s.. different.

Nobody in your town has a diagnosis, but you can tell that Lucas is on the spectrum, and you have every intention of telling Matt to get him a diagnosis, so he has the resources he needs to succeed in school.

But, tonight, you’re tired. Very very tired.

So, after putting Lucas to bed and enjoying a slice of semi cold pizza, along with flat diet soda, you find yourself in the backyard. Lucas’ window is open, and you can see the downstairs steps from where you’re sitting, so you’ll be able to see Lucas if he needs anything.

You’re sitting in a patio swing, letting your feet rock you back and forth. Maybe it’s unprofessional of you.. but you scrounge through your bag, finding your pen and turning it on, taking a long hit. You walk to and from work, so it’s not like you won’t be able to drive yourself home.

Then, you see Matt come in, and you freeze. Fuck.

You watch as he sets his bag down, slipping his suit jacket off after. Then, he tucks his cane somewhere safe, before his fingers begin to work at folding his sleeves up to his elbows. His fingers rub his temple for a minute, obviously exhausted from a long time. Then, he takes off his glasses and your heart skips a beat.

He pauses as soon as your heartbeats and he smirks when he turns towards the backyard door. Oh fuck.

He slides the patio door open and approaches you,

“Why are you outside?” he asks, sitting next to you.

“Uh.. Just, enjoying the weather.” And he laughs like you’re the funniest person he knows as he sits down next to you, groaning as he does, and your heart can barely take it.

“You’re a horrible lair, sweetheart.” He tells you. Does he know how desperately you want him? “What are you really—” Then he pauses, his nose twitching. “Are you smoking weed?” He questions.

“No.” You say, but as you breath out, smoke blows out of your mouth as you cough a bit.

“Oh my god—”

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t fire me—”

“Hand it over.” He says, hand outstretched, waiting for the pen. And not even for a second does your brain imagine denying him. It doesn’t cross your mind that maybe he doesn’t have that authority over you and you’re a grown adult.

In fact, you’re foolish if you ever thought he has no authority over you.

You hand over the pen sheepishly, but.. you’re caught way off guard when is fingers study the pen, finding the button and taking a hit for himself. You just watch him, mesmerized as he exhales through his nose.

“Sorry,” he starts, taking another hit before passing it back to you, “I’ll make it up to you.” he promises.

“It’s okay,” You giggle, a little bit from how comical it was, but a little bit from how fucking hot that was. Then, you take another hit, as he just rocks the porch swing back and forth, like he’s rocking you to sleep. The night is cool enough that the smoke barely rattles your lungs, and the intensity of summer has gone to sleep. Silence fills the air, as you just pass your pen back and forth, love in your eyes.

“Why is your wedding ring on the table?” You finally ask. You expect Matt to tense up, to scoff and tell you to mind your fucking business, but he just blows out more smoke before responding,

“My wife and I don’t have the most.. conventional of relationships.” He responds, “We’re in an open relationship.” He adds.

“Oh.” You breath out.

“Yeah. Oh. It’s more like.. She goes out and dates and fucks and I flirt occasionally, but that’s sort of a long title.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He takes a hit, “Oh.”

You don’t have anything to offer to that.

“Are you from here?” you ask, and he just smiles.

“No.” He says, and now there is true yearning in his voice. “Hell’s Kitchen, New York.” He responds.

“Do you at least like it here?” You ponder, as if his far away voice didn’t give him away.

“At first it’s fine. You try to fit in, just, make your way through, settle down. Then, you begin to hate it. You feel like if it sunk into the ground right at this very second, you’d die happy. Then, you become.. indifferent. You don’t mind the numbness of it all, you just stay perfectly complacent. Then, you wake up and are desperate to escape, like your own personal Truman show. The Matthew Show. Wouldn’t that be something to see?” He muses.

And again, you have nothing to offer but another piece of your soul, just throwing it out there,

“Would you date anyone?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, if you had someone you were really into, would you date her—Them, whoever?” You ask. “Whomever?” You ask, quieter now, mostly to yourself.

He smiles.

“If someone came along, someone say, who smoked weed, got along very well with my son, and was a horrible liar? Bonus points if she—they,” You suspect he’s making fun of you, “were an English Major?”

You tilt your head with a doe eyed smile.

“You remember I’m an English major?” He coos at you like you’re stupid,

“I remember everything about you, sweetheart.” What is wrong with him? What is wrong with you? Why aren’t you saying anything more to him?

“You know, sometimes, I remember the feeling of your fingers on my thigh when I touch myself,” And he grins like he knows he’s won.

“I bet you do,” He whispers, leaning forward so that his breath was hot against your skin, “Bad, Bad girl..” he ticks, and you can’t help but blush.

“Sorry,” You giggle out as your hand comes up to his face, just to move the pads of your fingers over his scruff.

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” he purrs, his hand finding your thigh again, the twitch of your legs not lost on him. “I don’t mind,” he hums. The weed you smoked is starting to kick in, and with it, your inhibitions start to slip away, your hand reaching so that you can barely touch his hair with the tips of your fingers. He takes another quick hit of your pen before taking your face in his hands, squeezing just a bit so he can lean in and blow smoke into your mouth, and as if it’s communion wine, you inhale, wanting every part of him you can have. Maybe it’s greedy, but you’ll atone for your sins later.

When he pulls away, you think you might just die and go up to heaven.

“I think..” You think so many things. You think that maybe he’s fucking with you. You think that this is a nice little dream that you’ll think back on when you’re old and wrinkly. The deepest, darkest, most insignificant piece of you that you pretend isn’t there, says—

What if he leaves his wife for you?

And you completely understand that you’ve barely kissed the man, but you never claimed that the deep dark part of you was smart, chill or even a little bit in touch with reality, only that it exists.

Besides, the deepest, darkest, most insignificant piece of you that you pretend isn’t there isn’t something you can ignore. Ignoring it is like trying to hold a beachball underwater—Eventually it’ll pop back up and hit you in the face.

“I think that maybe I should head home.” You finally answer, and maybe it’s the weed, but you see a flash of.. disappointment cross over his features. But that couldn’t be it, you’re much more pathetic than he is, he wouldn’t be so upset over you having to leave..

Would he?

But as quickly as the disappointment was there.. It was gone. Poof. As if it had never even existed.

“That’s okay,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and handing your pen back to you so you can tuck it into your bag, until the next time you need another hit. His head picks up as you glance over to door, where his wife walks in, putting her things down. He glances over to you, “Let me walk you home.” He offers.

You smile gently, standing up with him. You don’t say much as you make your way to gather your things from the front door, making pleasant conversations with his wife as he waited for you to get your shoes on. Soon enough, you’re making the quiet walk back to your house, and you’re accepting the swirling mess that is your emotions—Sure, he’s married, technically your boss, way older than you, and most definitely able to read you like a book, but there’s something about him that makes you forget all of that.

Maybe it’s just the general look of him—the salt and pepper hair, the stubble that’s just a bit too long, the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, the way his hands have just a few wrinkles and are covered in scars (from what, you do not know), the feeling of his hand on your thigh or the way his pink lips blew smoke into yours, the way his pants hug the curve of his ass, or maybe, you pathetic college student, maybe it’s the shine of his shoes, professional but just begging you to ride them.

Jesus, you’re too high for this.

But you’re almost certain that what did you in, the roots of your delusion, is the way he squeezed your hand the first time you met. You think, with the upmost affection, that your handshake was the most intimate two strangers could get on a Sunday in the blazing sun, the hypnotic daze of the light shining through the stained-glass windows of the church finally wearing off.

You want to tell him as much, to tell him that you haven’t gone a day without thinking about him since that day, that no amount of college students who ask you out for coffee have been able to drown out the sound of his voice in the back of your head, that the deepest, darkest, most insignificant part of you thinks that he might leave his wife for you.

But the walk home is silent.

You say nothing, but you listen to his breathing, calm, steady. You’re envious. Sure, he’s blind, but there is quite literally no part of you that doesn’t betray you, that doesn’t give you away.

He stops at the end of your driveway, and you hold your breath, waiting for him to speak. You can tell he has something to say, by the way he inhales, lips just barely parted. Sure, you’ve been an English major for years, but you’ve quickly picked up a minor in Matt Murdock studies.

“If I made you uncomfortable tonight, I’m sorry.” He starts, and your brows furrow in confusion.

“I’m—You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you promise. If anything, even though you were the one who said it was time to go, there’s a twinge of disappointment in your throat.

“Still—I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you or anything..” He starts, “Just.. Have a goodnight.” He smiles gently, his hand slowly, all too slowly, sliding off your arm as he steps away, but in a moment of, possibly THC induced, boldness, you grab his hand as he stands, arm outstretched to you. His sightless eyes hold onto you.

“You aren’t even gonna kiss me goodnight?” You ask, your voice vulnerably hopeful.

His lips twitch up in a smirk, pausing for a second, his head tilted in the most curious way. Like he’s waiting for the perfect moment. Then, he pulls your hand towards him so now you’re the one with the extended arm, like the two of you are dancing, pulling each other back and forth with an intensity birthed from desperation.

He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of it, something straight out of a fairytale. But just as quickly, he gently drops your hand, his eyes blazing with affection.

“We’re okay?”

“We’re okay.” You confirm with a soft smile, not wanting to dwell on any uncertainty that’s between the two of you. To accept that there is any uncertainty at all would be to accept the chance that this is as far as you two will get—lingering crushes and the ghost of a pair of lips on your hand.

He waits until you get back into your house, then walks down the sidewalk back towards his house, putting the idea of you in the trunk that sits in his armoire, only in the back of his mind, next to his old suit, his old friends, and his old life.

-

On Monday, you get to the Murdock’s house after Matt and his wife have gone to work, but before Lucas has woken up.

On the counter, a tiny envelope sits, your name typed onto the envelope. You tear it open, finding a freshly bought cartridge for your pen. A note falls out of the envelope, and it’s.. in braille.

You sneak into Matt’s office, pulling out a braille dictionary, and you quickly figure out that the note says, ‘We’re okay?’

In the middle of his work day, Matt gets a text.

‘We’re okay.’

-

When you tell your mom you got invited to go out with some friends from high school, she nearly jumps with excitement. You weren’t exactly popular in High School—that’s not really something you hide, since you’re now going into your senior year of college and you can admit that you were something of a loser in high school..

And in college. But, at your college, that’s more normal and even encouraged, so you run with it.

But your stomach churns at the idea of hanging out with the girls that you hung out with in high school—Wasn’t one of them married?

You knew from your mom, mostly, that the three girls from high school stayed very much in touch throughout their time in college. They were always closer to each other than you were with them, but you know that wasn’t really their fault. They were dumb teenagers just like you.

Maybe not inviting you to hangout outside of school was a side effect of being a seventeen-year-old, as so many things were.

You tell her that you have no interest in going out with them, but she tells you that you should have some friends at home! You want to tell her that having no friends was one reason why you went away to school, but instead, you text them back, asking what they had in mind.

So that’s how you end up in a bar two towns over, liquor burning the back of your throat, your head pounding and your ears aching. Your face twists into despair as you swallow the shot, not feeling as good as your ‘friends’. You’ve never been a fan of drinking, even feeling guilty when you took your first shot of communion wine when you were 8.

Your friends start giggling and laughing as you try to keep up with the conversation, a little lost, a sinking feeling in your stomach as you poke at the ice in your empty glass with a straw.

Then, the bartender comes over to you, placing your drink of choice in front of you, your friends pausing their conversation as she does.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t order that,” You say politely, smiling awkwardly to her. You wish you were underage, you wish you were anywhere but here, you wish—

“Actually, the gentleman at the bar got it for you,” she smiles, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, glancing at the bar and—

Warmth explodes in your chest, your heart beginning to thump loudly in your ears.

Your friends laugh a bit, shoving your shoulders gently, teasing you.

“You have to go talk to him,” One starts, and another picks up,

“He’s hot!” You smile shyly down to the drink in front of you and nod,

“Fine.” You hum, picking up the drink and walking over to where Matt sits at the bar, sipping a whiskey on ice. You sit next to him, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, and then his head turns to you.

“Why are you here with people you don’t like?” he asks, and you just blink in surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your friends. You don’t like them.” He says, and you just blush, embarrassed.

“How do you know that?” You ask, and he shrugs, taking a sip of his drink.

“You’re just.. quieter than usual.” He says honestly, sending you a sympathetic smile. You feel seen in the worst way possible. It’s like you’ve spent your entire life hiding, and Matt can see you for exactly what you are. Your face burns with embarrassment, taking another sip of your drink.

“Can we just flirt and almost fuck like we usually do?” You wonder.

“That makes it sound so much more.. casual than it is.” He pouts, and you just laugh, already feeling more relaxed than you had been before. And it isn’t even because of the alcohol, or so you suspect.

“What are you doing in a bar two towns over?” You ask, unsure how to respond to his comment about the casualness of your.. relationship, although that’s a rather strong word for what you two have.

“I was meeting with a client in town,” he responds, “Thought I’d stop for a drink before going home.” He says, and all you can find to respond is,

“Won’t your wife be mad at you for getting a drink when you could be home?” And he laughs, like you said something funny or cute.

“No, when she says she’s working late, she’s probably getting a drink and hooking up with someone. I thought I’d try it.” He smirks, and your face flushes. This is not a man who has any pure or holy intentions, and that absolutely turns you on. You have so little inhibition at this point that you simply lean forward, grab his tie, and pull him in for a long kiss.

Your nose twitches at the smell of vanilla, mixed with a bit of the whiskey, but quickly followed by just a hint of lemon. His hand quickly finds your waist, causing your posture to straighten as he kisses you deeper, his other hand trailing up your thigh, just like that first day outside the church.

The bar is dingy, so no one cares when he pulls away to finish his drink, then, straightens out his tie (which might kill you), and then he stands up, taking your hand in his.

“Let’s go,” he says quickly, pulling you along to the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. On the way there, your friends whistle and hoot, and while your face flushes, Matt does not seem to even notice. He opens the bathroom door without hesitation, like he knows it will be empty.

And the bathroom is.. disgusting. It’s dingy, dirty, but the sink looks.. clean enough. As soon as the door is closed behind you, Matt has you against it, his hands exploring your body as he kisses you, your hands instinctively going to his hair, as if you’ve done this a million times before.

His kisses are gentle, but invasive, like he wants to taste every single inch of your mouth with his tongue, and you happily let him. His fingers slip beneath your skirt, creeping up, finally finding the waistband of your panties, and he hums against your lips as if to shush you when you whine at the contact, his fingers slipping right under them to touch your throbbing cunt—It’s the type of warmth he’ll chase during cold, snowy days come winter.

His lips begin to attack your skin, kissing your jaw and your neck as he rubs circles into your clit, sucking up the breathy moans that escape your lips as he touches you. You’re soaking wet, and he wonders if you’ve ever been with anyone who knows where your clit is.

His fingers don’t even slip inside you, they just rub your clit with the attention it deserves, Matt taking your moans and how your hands grip his shirt as payment. But the movement of his fingers are too much for you, and before you know it, you’re squeezing your eyes tight, hands tangled in his clothes and hair, as you reach your first orgasm of many brought to you by the man.

He continues to rub your clit as you come down from that high, your breath getting more even, despite the way your skin burns and cum drips down your thighs. Then, he kisses you, jarringly soft—

“All that over some attention from my fingers?” He teases, that shit eating grin on his face. Part of you wants to tell him to fuck off, defend yourself, but you recognize, as does he, that he holds all the power in this dynamic.

“If I say yes, will you fuck me properly?” Because ‘make love’, despite what your mother and aunts always said, doesn’t seem proper. You two aren’t in love.. you’re in lust for this man—Or at least, you’re telling yourself that because of how desperately you want his cock inside you.

“I guess you’ll have to try it and find out.” He says, as if he’s not hard, his cock twitching in his pants at every little whiff he gets of you.

“Yes.” You hum, “All that over your fingers,” And he just smirks before asking,

“Anything else?”

“…Please?” And it seems to be the magic word, because he leans forward and kisses your cheek before adding,

“Good girl.” And at how excited that makes you, Matt finds himself practically fumbling for the condom he had put in his wallet the day he met you, but as soon as you realize it, you’re grabbing at his hands, trying to take it out of his hands, and his free hand finds your chin, gripping it just tightly enough to make your brain feel fuzzy, “What? What is it, baby?” he asks, and you have to take a moment before you respond,

“I’m on the pill, we don’t need a condom,” And a part of Matt’s brain that never quite grew out of the Catholic upbringing in which he was raised wants to remind you of all of the complications that could come with that, but another, stronger and more tempting part of his brain, the devil part of his brain thinks about the feeling of being buried deep inside of you, in the middle of this dingy fucking bathroom, with your ‘friends’ waiting outside, and he literally tosses the condom on the floor.

No words are spoken as he kisses you again, his hand that was holding the condom now working on unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, his free hand simply holding yours—perhaps the most romantic thing a man has ever done for you.

Eventually, your panties are rolled down to your ankles, and he pulls you just to the edge of the sink so you’re hanging onto him for dear life, and he just kisses you, and in between kisses he says, “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, just like that,”, and you trust him.

He pulls away from kissing you, to take your chin in his hand one more time and demand your attention.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he starts, “And it might hurt at first, but we’re gonna go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” and he kisses your forehead, strikingly loving compared to the situation that you have found yourself in. You wait, anticipation dripping down your thighs, before Matt slowly pushes himself inside of you, and as he fills you up, you moan into his skin.

There’s a part of Matt that starts shaking at the feeling of how tight you are around him. He lets out a low groan, his breath hot against your neck, as he bottoms out inside of you, his finger twitching a bit, aching to fuck you so intensely you’ll forget your own name..

But he resists, waiting for your grip on him to loosen softly,

“We’re okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“We’re okay,” You breath out, ready for him to move.

“Yeah, I know, baby, we’re okay,” he purrs, before slowly, agonizingly slowly, beginning to thrust in and out of you, only encouraged by your moans as they begin to pick up, thrusting into you faster, unable to resist the way you clench around him.

Your fingers barely scrape over his skin as he thrusts into you, his lips kissing your skin. He wants to tease you, he wants to tell you that you’re so dirty, letting a grown man fuck you in a dingy bathroom, but he finds himself lost in your warmth, unable to provide you with the dirty talk that he has dreamt of giving you for months.

But.. this is better. This is a well put together man, who falls apart at the feeling of your cunt, who shudders at the feeling of your hands on his, who tears apart at the seams of his being when your lips touch his. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to being an artist, mending and molding him with your hands.

It’s mesmerizing, and if you could, you’d stay here forever, letting him fuck into you like it’s his god damn job, slowly becoming faster, harder, more intense, never letting up, so you decide to push him—

“Need you to come inside me,” You pant out, and Matt won’t ever admit it to you, but he almost comes right then and there, not even bothering to give you a warning. Almost.

“I will, baby,” He hums, kissing your neck as sweat glistens his forehead, trying to push himself, trying to fuck you like you deserve, like he knows you deserve, his thrusts unrelenting.

Your thighs begin to shake as you claw at him, your breath catching in your throat.

“Matt- Please, oh my god—” You whine, “I’m gon—”

“Yeah, I know, baby, You’re squeezing around me so well,” He purrs, “C’mon, you can cum, you just gotta let go for me,” He advises, “C’mon, show me how good I’m making you feel,” And as you creep closer to the edge, your heart thumps loudly in his ears- You can’t help yourself. You’re sort of taken by the fact that when he’s breathless like this, you can hear his New York accent twinge out of him..

And that might just be what pushes you over the edge.

You cum with a moan, shuddered into his ear, panting as he keeps thrusting into you. The only time your mind wanders is rather briefly, as the way the stained glass windows looked in your church on the day you met him.

He lets out a soft whimper as he bathes in the feeling of you coming around his cock, the feeling of your hands in his hair, the feeling of your breath against his neck—he’s actually falling apart, and his thrusts only stutter as he comes inside you, deep deep within you.

Neither of you say anything as your hips pathetically roll, and he leads you down from your high as he slows his thrusts. For a moment, you both need to sit in the silence of your breathing..

And then, you start to laugh.

He laughs with you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks through laughs, tracing the side of your face with his hand, and you just laugh harder.

“You’re just..” You find the words, “You just exceeded my expectations is all,” and it’s so funny to him, that that’s where your mind goes after he fucked you so well. You’re adorable, he thinks, and he needs to keep you like this forever, stuck in time with his cum dripping down your legs.

When you both come down to earth, finally, he kisses you and says gently, “Let’s get you cleaned up,” And you happily oblige him.

He helps you off the sink, steadying you with his arms as your legs shake, holding onto him like a newborn deer, unsure of your movements.

But soon enough, you’re stable enough to stand on your own and the dawning realization hits you— you just ran away from your friends to go fuck a married man. And.. there’s so little regret—really, there’s nothing much at all that you feel besides an aching in your core for more.

He squeezes your arm gently, before asking,

“Feeling okay, honey?” he asks gently. And you just grin at him.

“Never better.”

-

So, funny enough..

You get grounded after your night out.

“Grounded?” Matt laughs as you tell him that, not at all caring that he has you sitting on his office desk, hands wandering your thighs, “You’re twenty one, how’d they ground you?” He ponders, and you huff.

“Well, my fuckin’ friends were telling their parents about this hookup I had in the bar, and their parents told mine, and they got mad at me—So now I’m only allowed to go to work, and then go home.” You huff.

Matt smirks against your skin, kissing your neck. He pulls back and grips your chin, tilting your head up to look to him, his thumb slipping into your mouth, pressing your tongue down.

“What’re you gonna do all summer, stuck in your big bad bosses house?” he asks, and you just roll your eyes as your face reddens. “Don’t worry, pretty thing,” he says gently, planting a long kiss to your jaw, “Your old man is gonna take good care of you.”

And you know he means it, too.

-

One weekend, your parents go away. They trust you won’t have any boys over, not even considering the idea that you’d have Mr. Murdock over.

He has his arm wrapped around you as you lay in bed, mumbling something soft in your ear. You roll over, admiring him for a minute, the way his eyes look.. he’s so pretty. You reach out and gently touch the skin around his eyes, noticing the scarring around his eyes.

“Hm?” You question, tilting your head. You didn’t quite hear him. He looks at you for a long time before responding,

“I think you’re hard of hearing,” And you can tell by the tone of his voice that he means it. “I’ve noticed it a lot, you always miss things when you aren’t looking right at people, and you’re always asking people to repeat themselves. There’s nothing wrong with that, I just.. You should be able to get the resources you need to help with that.” He shrugs, like it isn’t the most observant anyone’s ever been of you.

You lean in and kiss him, for a long time, your hand on his cheek. When you pull away, you take a second to breath before kissing him again.

“What was that for?” He eventually asks, a smile on his face.

“I just..” You shrug, “No one’s ever really noticed anything like that about me.” You feel seen, in a way that pulls at your heart. He smiles gently to you, kissing your forehead before responding,

“All I’ll ever want is for you to feel seen.”

-

The end of the summer comes a lot faster than you would’ve liked. You had a great summer, you tell yourself, you spent a lot of time at work with Lucas, smoking weed, sitting under the stars, and being with Matt.

But, as your move in date for your senior year approaches, and you begin to start packing, an anxiety starts to creep into you.

How will you say goodbye to him?

Neither of you have discussed what will happen when that day comes, but it looms over you like doomsday. Each day that passes, you get hit harder and harder with the realization that summer will end, and nothing will be the same.

And eventually, though you will and pray it does not, the day comes.

It’s hot. Blaring hot, hotter than you would’ve liked. Even as the sun begins to set, there’s a brutality to the air that does not provide any relief.

You’ve already said goodbye to Lucas and Matt’s wife, so now, you just sit on your front porch, staring at the house down the street. When the door to the house opens, you advert your eyes like you’ve been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

Soon after, you pick your head up to see Matt approaching you. He smiles to you, and you try to smile back, but your heart aches with the knowledge that this will be the last time you see him until.. well, you aren’t sure when. You stand up to meet him at the end of your driveway.

“All packed?” he asks. You scoff softly.

“Something like that.” You shrug, and he smiles.

“What’re you still missing?” You answer before you can stop yourself.

“You.” You say, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. Immediately, his arms are around you, overheating you in the late August weather, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. He holds you gently, as if you’ll break when he lets go, crying into your shoulder. His hand rubs your back as he gently shushes you.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, “I’ll be here when you get back.” He promises, and you know he’s right. But for the first time, leaving your home will be hard, and you do not know what to do about it, other than buy a candle that might smell like him.

You stay like that for a long time, longer than you care to admit, before he slowly pulls away. You look to him for a few minutes, before he kisses your forehead. He hands you an old Columbia tee shirt of his, one that smells just like him, and you clutch it like your life depends on it.

“We’re okay?” He asks gently, and even if it’s a lie, you nod, and respond,

“We’re okay.”

-

Fall

Adjusting to dorm life comes back to you quicker than you would’ve thought, despite your heartbreak that came with living. You and your friends fill your time with studying, smoking, and doing anything you can to distract yourself from the aching in your chest.

But, you can’t deny, that on nights where it’s too hot to sleep, you scroll through Facebook—yes, Facebook of all things, looking at photos of Matt, getting just small glances into his life from two hundred miles away.

And as the time melts away, you become more and more.. numb to the pain that stung so intensely.. But you also spend a lot of time looking for the cologne that he wore, and you won’t deny that when your roommate leaves for the weekend, you spend hours in the memories of the summer, with your hand between your legs, aching for just a bit of the pleasure he gave you.

You almost have a heart attack when your mom asks you to come to church with her while you’re home for fall break. Of course you’ll go, of course it’ll be your pleasure, mainly because you’re hoping—maybe even praying for him to be there.

When that Sunday comes, you spend an hour getting ready. You know that Matt is blind and won’t care, but maybe a part of you believes you need to dress all pretty for him. You even wear the sundress you wore for Easter Sunday.

Your thighs are already slick with heat when you get there, and your eyes scan the crowd for Matt.. and when you eventually find him, your breath hitches in your throat, just like the first night you felt him inside you.

You grin as you see him, all by himself, at the back of the church. You excuse yourself from your parents, making your way back to him like it’s your god damn birthday you’re so excited.

But as soon as you approach him, someone calls his name behind you—an old friend or maybe a coworker, and Matt walks toward you, and you open your mouth to say something your eyes following him, and then—

He walks right past you, avoiding you completely. Your face falls with disappointment, your heart sinking. Maybe.. he just didn’t realize it was you. Maybe. You don’t know, but it messes with your head throughout all of the service.

You and your family are sitting more towards the back, while Matt and his family sits in front of you—You watch him like it’s your damn job, waiting, waiting, Until—

He gets up, quietly making his way towards a door to the side, one that will lead downstairs and to a restroom. You begin to count to sixty, waiting so very patiently, before quietly excusing yourself, and following him down the stairs.

As soon as you open the basement door, Matt is pulling you further into the basement, to a deep dark corner, and immediately, you’re pressed against the wall, his mouth on your neck. You moan softly as your hands find his hair, tugging on it, as his hands begin to explore your thighs like a starving man.

“Matt—” You go to say, but his hand clamps over your mouth as his free hand tugs off your panties, his hand cupping your cunt as you roll your hips, desperate for more contact than that.

“You gonna behave for me, pretty thing?” He grumbles, and you nod against his hand, so he bites down on your shoulder, “There we go,” He mumbles, his hand coming off your mouth to pull your panties down, before working on his belt and his zipper.

Your hands work at his hair, trying to cope with the fact that he is not being gentle, in fact, he seems to be purposefully mean, like he’s trying to see if you can even take it. This is nothing like when he first fucked you—this is a fucking that is making you see stars, and will leave you in tears.

Two of his fingers spread you open, making sure that you’re ready for him to fuck you. When he decides he is, still kissing your neck, he thrusts into you quickly—unapologetically. He doesn’t care about much else besides chasing that feeling of you clenched around him. He bottoms out inside you and moans against your neck.

Then, his thrusts start. He doesn’t even pretend to start slow, immediately he is thrusting into you, harder than he had in months, relishing in the feeling and the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

“Missed your tight cunt,” He mumbles into your ear, “Missed how well you take me,” he hummed, his pace relentless. He’s trying to satisfy his cravings for you, but his attempt is messy and he’s losing his mind over the idea of not being able to fuck you for another few months.

“I’m—” You whine, your hair falling into your face, your brain fuzzy, “I’m gonna—” He coos softly as he grips your chin with his free hand.

“C’mon, pretty thing, cum for me—” And just like that, you do. You absolutely do. You don’t hold back, and as soon as he feels you clenching around him, he’s coming too. You don’t know what else to do other than let him ride his high. When he pulls out, his hand comes back to your thighs, beginning to gently massage the mess the two of you had made into your thighs, pulling your panties back up so that for the rest of the service, you kind of just.. have to sit with that.

Your hands stay in his hair as he cleans the pair of you up, and you lean in to kiss him, and he lets you, but.. he doesn’t really kiss you back. And it breaks your heart. Your eyebrows furrow, as you reach for him like a child, and he just grabs your hands, “Just.. relax, okay?” He sighs.

“Why are you being like this?” You ask, “You’re..” You struggle to find the words as he buckles his pants, ignoring your gaze. There’s something inside him that’s stopping him from being affectionate towards you, that reminds him that you’ll be heading back off to school in a day or two and his heart will break all over again.

“Go back upstairs, Honey,” he says, but you shake your head.

“No, stop ignoring me—”

“Now.” He says firmly, ignoring the nauseating feeling as the saltiness of your tears fill his senses.

“Fuck. You.” you spit out, and he’s not angry with you for your reaction. It’s valid, of course. He knows why you’re angry, he just fucked you lovelessly, in the basement of the church where you first met.

He doesn’t say anything.

But he listens to the angry sniffles and foot stomps as you make your way back upstairs.

-

Matt’s neglect made you turn a new corner, and as soon as you get back to school, you find yourself constantly working and studying. You can’t possibly think about the intensity of his thrusts, the sternness of his voice.

You can’t talk about it, you can’t talk to any of your friends about the way you fell in love with a married man, you can’t talk to your parents about how you developed such intense feelings for the man who lives down the street..

So, you study.

On Halloween, you get a little too fucked up.

You drink an intense amount, needing to wash away the anger you have for Matt. At some point, you’re sitting in your bathroom floor, leaning against your wall.

Matt does not answer your call.

But you listen to his voicemail like it’s a sermon.

-

Winter

After Halloween, you begin to drink water every day, you eat more balanced meals, and you cut back on your substances. Truly, you know you need to make a change. And you do—school work becomes less of a coping mechanism and more of your job again. You mostly focus on enjoying your senior year.

But as the winter creeps in, you shop around for a gift for Lucas, fondly remembering your time with the young boy, despite your interaction with his father back in October. You store the gift away and focus on your finals. By the time you make it home, you’re exhausted.

You sleep most of the day on the 22nd, and then on the 23rd, you spend your day unpacking and helping your mom get ready for Christmas. Before you go to bed, you wrap Lucas’ present, and store it away, not caring much to deliver it any time soon.

You tell yourself you’ll drop it off tomorrow, and you aren’t sure if you’d rather come face to face with Matt, or his wife. The walk takes seemingly forever, and you feel anxious the whole way there.

You knock on the door, and wait with baited breath.. When Matt opens the door, your breath catches. He looks really good—A grey button up and dark jeans. You just smile at him.

“Hey,” You breath, “Uhm, I was just.. I wanted to give this to Lucas.. Is he here?” You question, not knowing where else he’d be on Christmas Eve.

“Oh, he’s actually staying at his moms today,” And your head darts up.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Matt says somewhat sheepishly, “We’re.. Separated. In the process of getting divorced.” He confesses.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” He chuckles, “I guess It was inevitable.”

“Well.. Then I guess you’re not doing anything tonight, huh?” You wonder, and he nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll probably just have a drink and listen to Christmas music.” He chuckles. You ache for him to invite you over. But you don’t get to tell him that before he says, “I’m so sorry about.. October.” He sighs gently, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You say gently,

“No. It’s not. I was a dick, and you didn’t deserve that. I really am sorry.”  

“I got over it,” You shrug.

“So.. We’re okay?” He offers.

You smile.

“Yeah. We’re okay.”

“Good. Because I’d really like to take you out sometime. Like, a real date.” He offers, and your face flushes.

“Yeah, that would be really nice..” You grin.

“No more sneaking around?”

“Well.. Maybe from my parents.. And it is kind of sexy,” You grin, taking a step up further onto his porch.

“Yeah?” He laughs, his hand coming down to rest on his waist. “Maybe that could be arranged.” He hums.

“Good,” You hum, and then you open your mouth to add, but he cuts you off.

“Do you want to stay for dinner? Tell your parents you’re keeping your old man company?” He hums, and your face flushes.

“I’d really like that.”

“That’s my baby,” He hums, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

[sehodreams]

https://x.com/archivetic/status/1758340676193046872?s=46

Anton's milf neighbour asked him to coach her and this is what it lead up to

Link (nsfw)

This was so good, my mind can't deal with all the scenarios, I quickly did this one but I imagined so many things I couldn't do something shorter.

TW and tags: dubcon at the start, humping, cheating, married!reader x younger!neighbor!Anton. WC: 1.9k

Anton had seen you walking around the neighborhood before, you were a young wife that had just moved with his older husband not many months ago, a pretty little thing that stayed alone in her big house obediently waiting for her husband to come back home and that always made his mother laugh.

You had started to warm up with the other mothers not long after you settled in, and you didn't have a child, but you had said how much you expected one, reason why you moved to his neighborhood, a calm part of the city with good schools around that looked out of a movie, the perfect place to start a family, so all of them welcomed you with open arms to the group.

His mother was one of the many wives that decided to dedicate to her family, and now that he was a lot older, had enough free time to befriend the neighbors and go out to enjoy her afternoons with the company of women like her, a group that happily included you.

"She said she's trying to get in shape before her anniversary, maybe you could help her and earn some pocket money this summer" she told him while they were having dinner. Anton was there only for the summer break and he didn't need to work, he never did it, but some extra cash sounded good, and when his dad nodded to what his mother said, it was decided, he'd go and coach the new cute neighbor.

When he knocked on your door you instantly melted his heart with your voice saying Just a second please, and when he saw your pretty smile saying his name, he knew he was fucked, "Anton, I've heard so much about you from your mother, thank you for helping me, I have no idea how to start".

You really had no idea how to start, a pretty little thing like you had never stepped into a gym or done any physical activity that didn't involve lifting your plants in your garden or pushing your furniture to rearrange the aesthetic of your living room.

He can guess why your husband snatched you so fast, if he had been in his place, he'd have done it too, the only thing your traditional family had taught you was how to be a good girl, and he was sure a man like the one you were with had smelled how fresh you were before he trapped you into marrying him.

You were older than him, five years at most, and you were almost three years married already, which meant you were barely older than him before you said yes to the housewife lifestyle.

You dropped out of college, you lived far from your family, and you didn't have friends your age. He was the closest thing you had to the taste of youth, and you received him so easily and with such honest intentions that, little by little, he had started to feel bad for taking advantage of you while training.

"Uhm do you really have to massage that place?" You asked when he made you lie over your stomach one day and his hands pressed its way from your calf to your ass, groping it with the excuse of not risking an injury before your session.

"Yes, we can't let you get hurt, we need to make sure your muscles here are relaxed enough before we continue" he said, making you nod. You weren't the expert, he was, he had trained for so many years, how could you even question his methods?

He had convinced you that everything he did was for your benefit, and if his hand pressed spots like under your chest, the inside of your thighs, or even your ass, it was only to check on your health.

You were uncomfortable with his touch, but you couldn't deny it, it also made your insides tingle, and you felt an excitement you had missed for a long time.

When you were young you would have that exact feeling when your friends told you to sneak out for a party since your dad never let you go out late, or when you knew your curfew was getting closer but you had already lied saying how you were studying at your friend's house when all you were doing was watch movies or talk about boys.

It's not that you don't like the married lifestyle, you love it, you don't have to think about what to do for work or how to pay your bills, you don't have to worry about your dad yelling at you for getting low grades and you can simply enjoy your day if you cleaned and had your husband's dinner ready before he arrived.

However, you couldn't say you were completely satisfied either.

Your husband was handsome and nice, but sometimes he couldn't make you feel as good as when you started accepting him into your bed, it seemed that after the honeymoon phase he was more interested in his big cases than helping you cum at night, and you were getting a bit bored of the exact same routine every day, waking up, cooking, dusting your living room, checking that your plants were okay and then waiting for him to arrive and repeat.

If it wasn't for the older ladies, you would have started crocheting to see if that kept you busy enough.

Still, even if Anton's touch made you feel good, you knew it was wrong to feel like that with another man's hands. You were a good girl, a good wife, and having your panties dripping after your cute younger neighbor came to help you train one hour a day was something that made you feel ashamed of yourself.

The worst part was that you couldn't hide it. Your cheeks would get red every time his mother said hi to you in the supermarket or when all the neighborhood wives met to have a cup of tea.

"I hope my son is treating you well" she would say, and you would only nod with a smile, hiding your face with your cup or grabbing one of the numerous mini snacks to change the subject into how kind the host that day was.

You were sure no one would blame you if they were in your situation. The sensation of the touch from a man like Anton, so big ang strong, would make anyone weak. His hands on your hips and his cock on your ass when he made you do sit ups, or his fingers sinking into the side of your chest to make sure your position didn't break while you lifted those dumbbells would push any other woman like you into doing even more, so you tried to just brush off those thoughts, because, after all, you never crossed any line.

Or at least you never did it until that day.

Anton had made you lie over your back this time, and your eyes tried to not look at the pretty boy over you, focusing on your white ceiling instead.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay? We need to check your flexibility before we try the next exercise" he said while lifting one of your legs and, with his crotch against your clothed sex, putting it over his shoulder.

Your heart started to pound and a choked whimper left your throat when you felt the first push.

Anton was pushing your leg as much as he could with the help of his weight over you, and he wasn't hard, but you could still feel his member and its form opening your lips and resting between them as if it belonged there.

You tried to ignore the way his hand had a firm grip over the back of your thigh and the exhale he gave when he pushed his cock against you once again, getting slightly harder with each thrust.

That wasn't just warming up at all, you weren't that dumb to not notice the way his hips were clashing harder and harder against you, the sounds that left his mouth were too obscene to be a mere exercise, and if anyone could see you two like that, they would instantly notice that something else was starting to happen to the boy.

You moved your eyes from the ceiling to his face, and you could see how his eyes were fluttering and he tried to control his breathing without success. The saliva accumulating inside his mouth made him gulp with every push and his eyes started to get more shiny with every second that passed.

He had a full erection at some point, and you should've stopped him, you told yourself to push him out of your way and warn him to never come back if he didn't want to hear from your husband, but just that little action of his hips against yours made you dizzy, a similar sensation to when husband first touched you, and you needed an orgasm so much that your body, instead of listening to your mind and do what was correct, opened your legs to complete receive him.

He didn't waste any second and started to rut against you, and the two of you were dressed, so you tried to convince yourself that it wasn't incorrect if it wasn't sex.

If you didn't take anything off, if you didn't let him sink his cock inside you, it wasn't cheating. You were just helping a young boy to find some relief, and that was almost like an exercise too, you two were fully clothed and you were dripping over each other, but it was like sweat, so that should be considered more as stretching than anything else, right?

You couldn't hold your voice back, Anton was pounding so deliciously over you that your insides started to clench, and you started to wonder, if he felt that good without directly touching you, how would he would make you feel if he just fucked you.

He was a lot bigger than your husband, his tip was leaving a big wet spot over his joggers and your yoga pants were getting dirty with your own slick, showing him exactly where he should thrust with his cock.

"This is just exercise, you need to train your core too" he said, and you, even if you knew it was all pure bullshit, nodded.

"You're right, Anton, I need it" you cried when you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm.

Clenching over nothing, with hips jolting to meet his, you felt yourself cumming hard inside your pants, and he, doing it at the same time, left a loud moan while his hands pressed hard at your thighs.

He tried to control how much he was panting, his forehead was wet and his cock was twitching inside his clothes, a mess he would have to hide until he ran to his house at the end of the street and that made him wish he could let everything out inside your warm walls the next time.

He could already imagine how pretty you would look opening your legs and showing him your naked cunt so he could give you what your husband couldn't, because if you were so needy, Anton was sure it was his fault that you accepted someone else's touch.

Before he gave you a last thrust, out of greed because he didn't have anything else to pour, he talked, "we should repeat it, stretching is really important, so, tomorrow same time?"

[yetanotherhiddlestoner]

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

(Gif is not mine, I found it on google.)

Word Count - 2593.

Warnings - Negan X FM Reader.  P in V, alcohol mention, smut, swearing, vaginal licking, blow jobs.  No beta reader, any mistakes are mine own. 

Negan and you have been working together for a few years but what happens when one Friday night out changes all that.?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Negan had been work mates for years, you started about 12 months after he did and bonded one night when you were invited to join the men and their wives for Friday night drinks and was able to outdrink the great Negan, earning your place in the friendship they had already established.

Another friday night has come around again and you went home and got ready for the weekly catch up, even though you worked with the men, it was the women you missed and loved catching up with. The moment you got there, you were basically dragged away from the group by them, having them a little tipsy already.

As the night progressed and the drinks kept coming, Dwight's wife, Sherry leaned over and whispered in your ear "Negan keeps staring at you" You almost spit your drink out at her, you look at her "What?" "Negan, he has been staring at you all night, since you arrived his eyes have barely looked elsewhere." "Bullshit" You turn a little, trying to remain casual, hoping that to him it looks like you're just repositioning yourself on your seat and you look at him, your eyes connecting. He gives you a smirk, you smile back. 

"Holy shit I think I just saw sparks" Sherry says joking. You slap her arm gently and break eye contact. "He probably just watching over here in general making sure that we are not being hounded by unwanted men." "No honey, I think he is making sure no one hits on you." Sherry sips her drink and poke a finger into your chest. "Right ok, I think you should stop drinking; all that alcohol is going to your brain."  Sherry laughs " Have your really been so oblivious? He likes you Y/N. Every time we drink, he always keeps his eye on you, he gets angry when men talk to you, one night he came to ours to sleep it off, Dwight says that he was saying your name in his sleep when he went downstairs during the night."

"Well then, if that is the case, let's test this theory" You smile at her, and she raises an eyebrow. You place your drink and walk over to Negan.  "Hey" you say to him and sit down beside him. "You seem to be enjoying yourself." He says as he watches the men nod at each other and leave to go to dance with their wives, leaving you and him alone. You shrug "Could be better,I am actually thinking of picking up a guy tonight" You decide to watch Negan closely, waiting for a reaction. "Oh is that so, would be a first for you, anyone catch you eye?" Negan gruffs and he takes a sip of his gin. You take note that he didn't react as you thought so you decided to keep testing him, you look around and spot your "target", you nod over to the bar "He looks interesting and fun, he might be a good time if you get my drift."  Negan follows your nod and spots the man, he was young, short black hair, wearing jeans and a jacket, casually leaning on the bar talking to what he assume is his friend. "You really think he is your type?" Negan looks at you raise an eyebrow at him.

"You think you know my type?" You say looking at him. Negan leans back, turning his body towards yours, his arm on top of the chair.  "I actually think I do what type of man you like" You raise your eyebrow to him "Ok tell me all about MY type, I would love to hear it" you say.

Negan chuckles "You type is the bad boy type, the type that you wouldn't take home to your parents. You want the type of man who will listen to you, take care of you when you're down. Someone who will take time to spoil you both inside the bedroom and out, even dare say a dominant male, especially in the bedroom, you seem like the submissive type of woman" You can feel your cheeks heating up and you only hope that Negan won't notice your blushing.

"You just know that most women like bad boys, so that was a lucky guess." You smile as he leans closer to you. "And yet you didn't deny the other things I "assumed" about you." He shifts his hips closer to you. "You don't think I notice the way you look at me when we hang out and I'm fixing my bike, while you sit there and keep my company, I can feel your eyes on me." "Isn't that what I meant to do, look at you while we are talking? Thought it was what society calls polite" You say, a bit of smart ass coming out in your voice. "Yes but there have been times when your eyes have not been looking at my face" He looks down at himself and slowly back up. "I've caught you oogling me when I slide under my bike, when my t-shirt rides up enough to show skin" "And what about you Negan? Sherry said that you been watching me all night, and you do it every other time?" Negan laughs "Well then at least Sherry noticed." Negan's hand reaches out and gently caresses your cheek. You gulp, feeling like butterflies are fluttering inside you.  "So she was right then?" "Right about what Y/N?" Negan moves closer, you look down at his lips, his tongue peeks out to wet his dry lips and it leaves you wanting him more. "That you get angry when men try and talk to me"  "She is not wrong. You have no idea how much I have wanted to spank your barely covered ass and tell you to go change. I don't like when other men try and take what's mine" You stare into his haze eyes "Yours? I'm not yours Negan"  His hand slithers its way into your hair, grabbing it tightly, jerking your head back a bit. "Yes, you are, you just don't know it yet."

Seconds pass and he growls, pulling your hair again, his lips crashing into yours, your arms instinctly wrapping around his neck, pulling him into you closer. Negan's other hand makes it way to your hip, without breaking the kiss his pulls you onto his lap. He releases your hair, but keeps his hand there, massaging the spot he had balled into a fist.

He growls as you shimmy down a bit, hitting his growing hard on. "Careful doll"  You forgot that you were at a bar with your work mates who would be back any moment. You start to slide off Negan's lap when his hands stop you from. "Where do you think you're going?" His lips nibble at your neck, making you wiggle on his lap at the sensation. "Our friends will be back soon" You try to explain. "So what, you embarrassed to be seen on my lap?" He asks, his hips gripping your waist. "No no" You shake your head "Would rather be on your lap in private" You move closer to Negan's lips. "Oh, is that so, would private also mean, no clothing?" He smirks. "Maybe if you play your cards right." You wink at him. He gently smacks your ass.  "Well then I am more than happy to get this show on the road Y/N" He goes to stand up carrying you. "You can't be serious, put me down" You smile.

"No way in hell took us too long to get to this point, I ain't letting you go now." He leans down to grab your wallet and phone and passes it to you. Your legs gripped tightly around his waist. The owner of the bar laughs as you walk out, your friends smile and give you a thumbs up, knowing full well that come Monday you're going to be the talk of the workplace.  He gets to his car and opens the door; you slide down and hop in the passenger side of the car. Negan closes the door like a gentleman. He hops in the driver's side, puts the keys in the ignition and the car roars to life. The drive is silent, neither one wanting to break the spell that had come over you both in the bar.  You could feel yourself wet, you rub your thighs together, you gasp as you feel a large hand grab your leg, stopping you. "Don't do that doll." Negan warns, his nails digging into your flesh. His eyes focused on the road, his hand slides up your leg, under your skirt, gently touching your clothed pussy lips. You moan just at the small sensation. His finger going up and down your lips, just teasing you enough to make you crave his touch deeper.

"Please" you whisper lifting your hips a bit. Negan chuckles " Needy little thing aren't you doll?" His hand pulls away and his hand goes back to the steering wheel, as he turns the corner to his house. 

Negan gets out of the car first, rounding the back and opening the door for you, allowing you to get out of the car and he closes the door leading the way to the front door, you had been to Negan's house many times, but never like this before, it was different. He unlocks the door and lets you walk in first, you hear the door close behind you, you turn to his hand grabbing your shoulder and moves your back to the door, his lips on yours, kissing you deeply, you're thinking your lips might be bruised in the morning with the amount of pressure he is using but you don't care, his tongue pry's your lips opens and your tongues dances with his.

Negan moves from your lips to your cheek, then down to your neck as his fingers carefully undo the buttons on your top. Once it falls open, his hands are on your breasts, getting a gasp out of you as he pinches your hard nipples. His lips move down and take one hard nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, making you moan and arch your back begging for more.

Negan moves from one breast to the another, doing the same thing, your hand slides into his hair, gripping it harder, pulling him closer to your chest. You hear him moan and then feel the sensation of teeth nibbling your skin.

Negan pulls away just a little, his face moving closer to yours. "I might have been wrong about the submissive part of you doll."  You chuckle a little "Maybe, but maybe it is cause we not in the bedroom."  Negan smiles and takes your hand, leading you up to his room. Once inside he pushes you down on the bed, and crawls on top of you, covering you with his body.

"You look perfect on my bed, even if you are to overly dressed." He pushes your shirt off your shoulders, throwing in beside the bed, he sits back and undoes his shirt and throws it with yours, you reach for his jeans, unbuckling the belt in a haste. His hands work on pulling your skirt down along with your underwear, again tossing it to the side of the bed. You push his jeans down to his knees then he takes over, getting off the bed to discard them leaving you laying there on your elbows looking at him, marveling at his amazing body, the chiseled chest, his tattoos and slowly looking down to his happy trail that leads to his very hard cock, that makes you lick your lips and crawl over to the edge of the bed.  Your hand reaches out and grasps him, making him growl deeply. His hips thrust a little making himself move in and out of your hand. You open your lips and engulf the tip of his cock, his hand finds itself tangled in your hair, as he thrusts himself more, your tongue swirling around his member. You hum as he pushes himself further into your mouth.  "Doll" He growls, a warning. You look up at him, the tip of his cock just sitting between your lips.  "Hmm" you hum. "As much as I am loving this lovely mouth wrapped around my cock I really wanna be inside you, fucking your tight pussy." 

Negan pulls himself out of your lips, pushes you to the middle of the bed, your still on your stomach, the bed dips and he crawls over you, lifting your hips and ass up, you feel his fingers touch your pussy lips, "Fuck I have been waiting to see you in this position, wet and waiting for me." His finger just pushes past your lips, spreading you, then you suddenly feel his tongue, lapping at your juices, you moan when he swirls the tip of his tongue around your clit. "Fuck" You breathe out, he pulls you closer to his, his face right in between your pussy, licking, sucking, the noises that fill the air should embarrass you, not turn you on more. Negan eats you out until the first orgasm washes over you, your legs shake in pleasure. Negan licks up your juices before moving over you, his legs positioned between yours, you feel his cock laying on your ass as he leans over you, kissing your cheek. "Fuck doll you ready to cum all over my cock now, such a good girl you" You turn your head, and he kisses you, you taste yourself on his face. Negan grips his dick lining it up to your wet pussy. In one quick thrust his pushes his way into you, his balls slap against your skin and you moan in delight.  "Doll, you have no idea how long I have dreamt of this moment, filling your tight cunt with my cock" He whispers in your ear, before pulling out and pushing back in fast, harder each time, getting a moan from both of you.  Negan can't stop himself from pounding into you, his cock burying itself inside the tight warm walls over your pussy, the noises that you make each time he hit the spot is like music to his ears. Negan leans over your back, pushing your face deeper into the mattress, his arms on each side of your body, he drives himself deeper into you, he is close to cumming, "Negan please...." you moan out. "I'm gonna cum doll, where do you want it, inside you? on your back?" He grunts out "or do you wanna shallow?" You can barely answer, you so cock drunk of him "Inside, please Negan" you beg him.  It doesn't take too long before Negan is pumping his seed inside you, grunting at his own release. You feel your own orgasm building and when you feel his hot cum inside you, you can't help but moan as you cum around his cock, milking him. Negan grunts as your cunt throbs around his slowly softening cock.  Negan get off of you and rolls you into his body, you both lay there panting, coming down from the high that has been building for a couple years.  "You do know now there is definitely not letting you go now." Negan says as his arm tightens around your stomach. "That is ok with me Negan." Negan chuckles and kisses your neck, thankful that finally after years of watching you from afar you were finally his.

[pinkthrone445]

~Partner in crime~ Part 2

Part 1 Part 3

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:soft, cute, young Melissa, friends to lovers, slow burn

Warnings:I don't think so

Summary :When they send you to work back in your home town, you start to recall all your memories from your teen years involving the redhead.

-"Soooo..."-the redhead looked at you squinting her eyes to see you better in the middle of the night-"why all your family are assholes? I was able to hear from across the street their screams after you came back from my house... Are you okay?" - she asked and you saw a sincere worry in her eyes. You nodded with your mouth full of the ice cream that she brought to your roof-"I need more than that... I will tell you a secret if you tell me how you truly feel, deal?" - You thought for a minute about what she proposed and nodded again eating more ice cream-"Okey... My secret is, that I actually came here to check if you were okay, no to get away from my siblings to eat that ice cream by myself... If that would have been my true reason, I would have lost because you are eating all of it"-she joked looking how much ice cream you ate and you laughed a little embarrassed

-"They just scream at me because I'm the black sheep of the family I guess... I'm the one that doesn't fit in in their lifes and they make sure I feel that every day. They have their perfect family between her, my dad and their kids and I just don't belong there, I've tried to, but they don't want me here"-You muttered and Mel looked at you with intensity. If there was one thing you hadn't gotten to know in these few hours with her, it was how good she was at reading people, and even though what you said was true, she was able to see that you were hiding a lot of it.

-"Their kids? Those assholes are your dad's kids too?"-she found new information in the way that you were talking

-"Yeah..."-you simply said and she frowned

-"I know we just meet, but you can trust me... Maybe talking will make you feel better" - she put a comforting hand on your knee smiling softly at you, and you could felt the warm through your clothes. You signed and stared at the ice cream that was in your hands. The night was a little bit warm and her hand too, but the cold from the ice cream and the chill breeze gave you a nice contrast on the palms of your hands sending a little chill through your body. All of that, the warm night, the cold breeze, her soft smile, the quiet of the night, the high of the house and her soft voice made you feel at peace and safe, safe enough to trust a almost completely stranger

-"Dad used to be a truck driver, for years he led a double life, he had two houses in different places, two cars, two wives and two families... Mom and I were the spare ones, mom was only his fiancé and my stepmother was married to him long before we appeared on the picture. He had a son with her, after two years, I was born in the other house with my mother, and a year after I was born, he had another son with his wife. My mother was very sick and when we found out that he had another family, she did not have enough strength to resist the news and died. I wanted to stay and live with my grandmother, but she was in a nursing home, and although I offered to take care of her if they let me take her home, the state didn't allowed it because I was a minor... So I had to live with my dad and his other family because my dad's wife forgave him after she found that that my mom died... That's why they hate me, because I'm a living and waking reminder of my dad's affairs"-You said taking a even bigger spoon of ice cream than before. Melissa stared at your face, she didn't know what she was waiting for you to tell her, but it certainly wasn't that.

-"Wow... I'm sorry... I..." - she was trying to find something to say

-"It's okay... I'm about to turn 17, just a few more months after that to turn 18 and I will be able to go live on my own" - You answer finishing the ice cream

-"You can come to my house whenever you need or want, my nana and mom really loved you and they couldn't stop talking about what a nice girl you are" - she said trying to confort you and you smiled softly at her.

After that night, many more moments together came and you could no longer imagine or remember what your life was like without her presence.

You eating at her house became a regular thing and her family treated you as if you were one of them, even when the redhead was not there, they still invited you to dinner or movie night. The weeks began to pass quickly and before you knew it, summer vacation was over and it was time to start at your new school, while you were nervous about that new beginning, knowing that Melissa and some of her siblings would be there calmed your anxiety a bit.

-"Do you have everything ready for tomorrow?" - she asked sitting on your bed eating some chips

-"Yes, I was thinking about using some jeans and a open green shirt over a black muscle, what do you think?" - You asked showing her the hanger with the clothes

-"I think it's really cute... Hey, that green shirt isn't mine? I thought Marie had took it..."-she asked narrowing her eyes to you

-"It's yours, you forgot it that time you stayed here to sleep while my parent were traveling with my brothers, remember? Now it's mine" - You put the clothes back in the closet before she could take it from your hands

-"It's okay... It will probably look better on you than me" - she said and went to your bathroom to wash her hands-"I have to go home to sleep before it gets more late, see you tomorrow?" - The redhead opened your window ready to go outside and climb the tree down. You stared at her, the thought of going to that new school made you more nervous than you wanted to admit

-"Mel?" - she looked at you-"Can you stay tonight with me? I'm too nervous to sleep alone..."-your voice was weak and that broke her heart, she smiled and closed the window

-"Of course, we can't allow you to spend your first day of school without having slept well... Lend me some sleepwear" - she said quickly taking off the things she was wearing.

That night, the redhead wrapped her arms around you, whispering some jokes and sweet things to calm your nerves until you could fall asleep.

Mel and you were only friends, very good ones, or that's what you thought until the next day when school began.

As soon as the day began, Melissa, her siblings and you, all went together while the redhead drove. The day started with a guided tour of the school and some simple classes with repeated introductions mentioning your name, where you came from and the things you liked.

It wasn't until lunchtime that you saw Melissa's siblings again, they invited you to eat with them when they saw you wandering around the yard looking for a place to sit.

While you were eating the limited options offered by the cafeteria and wondering where the redhead was, you saw her enter the lunch court next to a boy, although she was also with other classmates, he was closer to her than everyone else. Apparently your brow furrowed more than usual as Marie immediately began to explain who was he

-"That's Larry... And her other school friends...he likes Melissa and everyone knows it, they don't date because Mel hasn't said yes, but she doesn't say no either, so he keeps wandering around her until the day when she finally say yes... He is a nice guy but a little pusher, he give us chocolate and stuff trying to get our approval and hoping that we will tell nice stuff about him to Mel, hopefully that what we say will help her change her mind quicker, but we only eat the stuff and don't say anything to her"-The younger sister explained eating some stuff of her plate.

Your eyes were fixed on the redhead, barely listening to what her sister was saying. Melissa was a beautiful woman, an amazing body and her always perfect red hair, and in addition to being perfect physically, she had incredible intelligence and was very funny. It wasn't surprising that she had tons of guys behind her... It didn't surprise you, but it did bother you... Why?

You were lost in thought when someone blocked the light coming from the window, when you looked up, the redhead was in front of you and next to her the annoying and insistent Larry. Melissa sat next to you smiling and Larry looked at you hoping that you would move a little so that he could take a place next to the redhead

-"How is your first day going hon?... Can you move a little bit so Larry can sit with us, please?"-she asked pushing you lightly with her hip. She wanted to make room for him on her other side, but you understood that what she wanted was for you to get farther from her so he could sit between you two, and that hurt, you didn't knew why, but it hurt more that it should have and you started to feel a lump in your throat

-"Don't worry, I'm not that hungry anymore to finish what I had, I will use the free time to go around and see the school" - You said getting up from the table and taking your tray of food, leaving your table and seat free for the insistent guy that quickly sat down on your place.

Melissa looked at you in confusion as you left the food hall without looking back.

On the way home you were very quiet and decided to sit in the back seat instead of being her co-pilot as you had been in the morning.

At dusk the redhead came to see you at your house since you were acting very strange since the school day started , but your father told her that you felt a little under the weather and that you had gone to bed without eating. Without giving up, she said goodbye to your father and climbed the tree until she reached your window. After insistent knocks without response, she entered your room since part of the window was open, but she did not find you there, so she decided to climb to the roof. Finding you finally lying on the ceiling, looking up at the sky in silence. Quietly, she sat next to you, looking at your face and discovering how lost and sad your gaze looked

-"Hey kiddo... I brought you some lasagna..." - she looked at you but you didn't looked back at her

-"How did you knew I was here?"-You asked, looking at the starts very lost

-"You always come here when you get sad or need space... What is going on? Someone did something to you at school? Tell me who and I will kill them" - she always said stuff like that, you didn't knew if she was capable of that, but you weren't trying to find out. Sighing you turned to look at her

-"I just miss my mom and nana... That's all... I wish they were here to help me with my head and thouths... It was a weird first day" -you said really low and she frowned

-"I know you miss them... And I know it's not the same, but you are not alone, I'm here to help too, what is going on? What are you feeling?" - she said worried and you sighed again

-"This school is very diferent, everything is different and I feel so out of place... There were so many people and you seemed to have many friends... They seem really interested in you, specially Larry... I mean, I get it, you are really pretty, but he seemed to be invading your personal space a lot... What I'm trying to say is... I... I thought that today we were going to spend more time together, but you seemed really interested in other people and that shocked me a little... You are my safe space and it was hard being away and alone..."-You were talking a little weird, like trying to choose carefully your words. Mel though you had jealousy because she drag attention of other people, she didn't knew it was jealousy because you actually liked her... Or maybe it was jealousy and fear, you weren't so sure about what you were feeling honestly

-"Hey... I won't let you alone because I have other friends, I promise... Also it's okay to have another friends and you will find new ones too, but not matter what, at the end of the day, in this roof, we will always find each other. Okay?.. I promise"-she talked softly trying to help you feel better, but her answers only raised more questions inside you

-"Mel?" - You whispered and she raised her eyebrows paying attention to you- "have you ever been in love?-your question took her by surprise and she took a few minutes to think about it

-"I had a few dates and one boyfriend, but I don't know if that was love, I didn't liked him that much... But mom always says that love comes in many forms, that love makes you feel safe, happy... Sometimes it also hurts and makes you cry. But it makes you feel alive and it's worth living, if it hurts you, you learn and if it makes you happy, it gaves you reasons to live... Why? Do you like someone? Who is it?"-she looked at you really interested

-"I don't know yet... I never felt like this before, sometimes I feel sad and sometimes happy and sometimes my tummy hurts..." - you said looking at her eyes, those where the most beautiful eyes you have seen in your whole life

-"Maybe it's gas" - she joked and you laughed-"That's the smile I missed... Look, I don't know how loves feels or what to do with it, but I will help you with everything I can and I promise to always have food to make your tummy happy again, okay?" - she asked hugging you and you nooded smiling, hiding in her neck, feeling happy and calmer. You didn't knew it yet, but years later you realized that by that time you were already in love with her, but you didn't knew what love was or how it felt, so while you were trying to figure your feelings for her, you decided to stay by her side, having those safe moments on the top of the house eating her delicious food and making each other laugh.

[mindful-of-ideas]

TW: mention of alcohol, reader gets black out drunk.

A/N: Based on this request here by anon. Sooooooo… it’s been a while since I watched Peaky Blinders so if it doesn’t make sense timeline wise, I’m sorry. Also it’s been a while in general, sorry to have vanished without a word. Life got busy. Also I never realised the age gap between Tommy and Ada was thaaaaat big, so I kind of worked my way around it. Hopefully you still like it.

“Come on,” you said whining, “it’s one night, I think I’ll manage!”

“I just don’t want anything to happen to my little girl,” Polly said almost whispering.

You sat down by her side on the couch and rested your head on her lap.

“I promise I’ll be careful, I’ll make sure all the doors are locked and go to bed early.”

Gently, she brushed your hair with her fingers.

“You promise? With all of the arrests lately and… “

There was a long silence. Last week, they had arrested a bunch of members of the Peaky Blinders, but some coppers went too far. They had humiliated their wives, beating them in front of their children when they could, throwing them in the streets barely clothed otherwise, just in hope they knew something about their husbands whereabouts. They almost never did.

“I promise. You even could have one of the boys come around to check on me,” you added.

You hated being checked on, and she knew that. But you wanted her to have an actual relaxing weekend, it took you weeks to convince her to take a break, and mostly you wanted to have a fun weekend out.

“Alright. But you open the door for no one else, and if anything happens…”

“I keep my mouth shut until you or Tommy come and get me out, I know.”

“And he’s probably the one I’ll send to come and check on you,” she added.

You raised an eyebrow at her. You had only suggested it to ease her mind. You never believed she would actually send one of the boys to look after you like you were some little child.

“If,” she corrected herself, “I were to send someone, I would send Thomas. But I trust you.”

She kissed your forehead gently.

But deep down you knew you had to think of a backup plan in case Tommy did actually show up. Though, you wouldn’t complain too much. He too was a busy man and you couldn’t remember the last time he took a break, or the last time you even saw him for that matter.

It probably was well over two months ago, and well, the whole night was kind of a blur, a mix of alcohol and too much fun. Yet you could remember everything that led to that one night.

Polly had taken you in when you were barely five years old. Your mother, a friend of hers, had become suddenly ill, and your father, in true manlike fashion, had fled to London like a thief in the middle of the night. It didn’t take much convincing for Polly to take you in. She always told you she could never refuse your mom anything, on her dying bed more than ever. You never felt like you were a burden to Polly either. If anything, you were her blessing. This was how you had ended up growing alongside the infamous Shelby family.

Ada was your best friend, probably your only real friend too. You were thick as thieves. Polly wasn’t too fond of your friendship however. She seemed to always come up with excuses when Ada was about to get herself, and you, into real trouble, trying to keep you safe. Often, she would ask for your help around the house, mostly with Finn, who was still so young. How could you say no, you loved Finn like a brother.

You didn’t care much for the older boys, John was nice to you, beating up your bullies, but Arthur always seemed too old for you to even consider getting closer to him. He would make an effort to be nice to you, probably out of respect for Polly, but to say you considered him like a brother would be wrong, false.

Then, there was Tommy. The dark and mysterious Thomas Shelby. Has he always been like this? No, that couldn’t be possible. You had a clear picture of him crying at his mother’s funeral, birthday cards retelling shared laughters and a curved scar on your collarbone, witness to great adventures. You knew a Tommy no one else knew. Yet these memories, as he got older, turned into echoes of conversation late at night between him and Polly, where he sounded like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, whispers about girls trying to take a bite out of him and ripples of tears you couldn’t see anymore. That’s when he became the mysterious Thomas Shelby and that’s when your indocile naïve teenage heart began aching for him. But when he never stopped caring for you, you had to realise that this crush couldn’t last.

Yet he was not acting dark and mysterious that night, which was something unusual. The thought that the old Tommy could be back left your heart racing. Yet you were certain you had gotten over your crush, it had been too long to still hold on to silly hope. Now, however, the embarrassment of a childlike crush wasn’t there. The feeling was different, sharper. Ada caught you staring at him.

“Come on,” she had said, “you can go and bother him, I’ll cover for you if he gets pissed, say you were drunk or something.”

She said those words as if she knew something you didn’t. It didn’t matter though. She was right, you were drunk, and well, drunk-you wanted to go say hi to Tommy. Drunk you felt like a strong independent woman, who knew better than to be intimidated by handsome boys. You had dated handsome boys, this was child’s play. Though Thomas was a man. You had gotten up clumsily and made your way to the bar. Slurring your words just a little, you managed to start a conversation. You don’t remember much of what was said. Niceties mostly, hopefully. Maybe something about the good old days, when everything new felt like a warm and bright sun shower. Still, you did remember his eyes. How they were piercingly cold when you had started talking, yet by the end of the night they had a soft coldness to them that felt welcoming. This and his laugh. Somehow you had made him laugh and even today, his crystal clear laugh still echoed in your head.

You had awoken up the next day with a massive headache. How you made it back home was still a mystery. You remembered an Ada-like shadow leaving the pub around an early midnight and drinks still getting poured out for you. Tommy was buying, why would you have left then?

•••

There was a faint knock on the door. Carefully, you got up and cracked the door open. It was still early in the night and you started worrying that this wasn’t one of the Shelby boys behind the door.

“Tommy? What are you…”

“Polly asked,” he answered.

“She said IF,” you said, whining.

“And decided she was going to,” he said sternly, “And Polly was really clear that you weren’t to get into trouble. If I had come by later, could you promise you wouldn’t have been out?”

“No,” you thought. He was right. You let the door swing open more. You had planned on going out but had not started getting ready yet. You were still in well-worn clothes, nothing unfamiliar to Tommy.

“I’m not a kid anymore, I can take care of myself just fine. I should be able to go out if I want to.”

“I know…”

“So you’ll let me go, great! Now please get out so I can get ready.”

But he stood in the doorway, not moving.

“Was there anything else?” you asked after some time.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

“You… what…” you said blushing, “Tommy I look like shit right now. I… I haven’t…”

“I don’t care.”

He took a step towards you, pushed the door aside and grasped your face in his hands. Gently, you pried yourself away from him. His face was still close to yours. His blue eyes looking intensely at you, you could feel his gaze examining every inch of your face. Coldness washed over you, awakening all of your senses. You were suddenly hyperaware of your surroundings and you couldn’t look at him anymore. You had to look at the door. The wide-open door. What if someone saw you? What if the cops were to walk down the street right this instant?

“The door,” you finally whispered.

Grabbing you by the waist, he spun you around and pushed you against the door, closing it at the same time.

“What about the door?” he asked.

His other hand above your head, you felt small, trapped between him and the door. You bit your lip and started giggling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you quickly said, “it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I know you… this just exactly how I’d imagine the dark and mysterious Thomas Shelby to act, yet it feels so strange.”

“Dark and mysterious,” he said, feigning surprise.

“You know…” you started, lowering your gaze. If he could just move back a little bit, you would feel so much more confident. “How everyone talks about you. And how I suddenly got more books when you moved out…”

“And how somehow Ada’s destructive plans always fell through?” he suggested.

“Wh-… you…”

“Yeah, me.” He said, lifting your chin gently to face him again. “Can I?” he asked in a whisper, pulling your face closer to his.

You nodded timidly. What was going on with you. This was Tommy, not some fucking stranger at the bar.

“Say it,” he teased.

“Yes.”

He kissed you, passionately. Had his hand not moved from your chin to be tangled in your hair, you would’ve bashed your head against the door.

He kissed you. And kissed you again.

You closed your eyes as he trailed kisses down your neck, all the way to your collarbone. He lingered on your scar when you shot your eyes open, pushing him back.

“What, what is it?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“Since when?”

“What?” He tried to lift your chin up but you swatted his hand away.

“Since when… do you have feelings… for me?” you managed to blurt out.

“You always…” he started but you cut him short.

“No!” you said, pushing him back. “I mean it, since when!”

“I don’t get what’s wrong? Y/N, just calm down.”

“What’s wrong?”

Thousands of things were wrong and they hit you all at once. Right there, right then, at the worst possible moment.

“What’s wrong?” you asked again. “What’s wrong is every single men who looked at me like I was some piece of meat every time I walked into a bar since I turned 18! What’s wrong is these same men doing the same thing year after year after year and to girls younger and younger and younger than me! If you said you loved me since forever, I would feel so disgusted with myself and I… and I…”

You were hyperventilating at that point. You didn’t know why and how these thoughts just suddenly came to you. Maybe it was because this was just too much to handle, maybe it was because you’ve only dated boys, man-children, before.

“Hey, hey, just breathe, okay,” he said, gently stroking your hair away from your face with both his hands.

“Since when?” you asked one last time between sobs.

“Since the last time I saw you, something… changed,” he finally answered.

Slowly, you managed to silence your breathing and slow down your sobs.

“But, you always were special, Y/N,” he said. “Things slowly fell into place, but I assure you, I never and would never consider you as anything else than my equal, if not more.”

Blushing deeply, you tried to turn away, but he forced you to look at him.

“But you however. You’ve had a crush on me since way before.”

“I got over it,” you said defensively even though it was true. If the spark was rekindled that one night, it had morphed from a strinking lightning bolt into a raging wildfire. “But that night… yeah, something changed.”

“So, can we keep going?”

“I think we should rather start over. I think I missed a few of my cues.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, leaning back against the door, tilting your chin with the other hand. “Like what?”

“Come and find out.”

His face inched closer to yours.

“Come on, beautiful, just tell me.”

Before you could answer, he was kissing your lips again. But as quickly as he had started, he broke the kiss. You grabbed the lower part of his shirt, gently pulling him towards you.

“I forgot to kiss you back,” you whispered before kissing him for the first time.

[i-want-men-i-cant-have]

Will you do more slasher yandere? I LOVE HIM!!!!!!!!! I wanna see us graduated with a house, wedding, and 7 kids. I wanna be his lil stepford wifey!!!!!!!!!! 🙈🤰👩‍🍼👶😭

🤰-anon i was so confused for a second before i reread the fic. i was staring at my screen for a solid second questioning my life. i was like, “7 kids… tf?”

[part.1]

yan!slasher who makes feels so young around you. he can still remember your wedding just a few years ago.

yan!slasher who will always love your oldest the most, having luckily caused the shotgun wedding. oh, he'll never forget that fear in your eyes, tears threatening to spill, proclaiming you were still a virgin. it was honestly because your period was late, and it was a joke to check.

yan!slasher who felt some remorse. he promised to wait until you were married, and he thought he had the patience- just when you look like that, was it honestly his fault? he's been waiting since high school just for this very moment. you can't exactly blame him when those hormones he's been trying to keep down just come to bite him later on.

yan!slasher who decides you both and your 7 little dwarfs should move to a gated community in the midwest, each house bearing shutters on windows and white picket fences. grass that could rival the country club a few blocks away, and those beautiful flowers you loved so much so he loved them so much.

yan!slasher who was honestly being generous. i mean, the perfect town and house for the perfect nuclear family, who wouldn't want that? sure a woman like you should never be confined to a kitchen, for crying out loud you have a degree, but think about your 7 children. they needed a mother in their life. their father is a hard worker after all he can pay the bills so the children can have a mother.

yan!slasher who worried about your loneliness. you did need some friends from moving into such a beautiful community. why not invite some women over? he made sure to buy only the best house available just for your family to be the envy of the town. the wives immediately wanting to have tea once your husband and perfect children were gone.

yan!slasher who, of course, caught wind of mrs. rothschild. how could she say such horrible things? ‘her lawn needed some mowing, and did you see her shoes? ugh, I saw that wear and tear from a mile away. she’s such a- excuse my language, whore. she just married him for his money.’ who did she think she was? she was just an unfertilized old hag wishing to relive her youth! she was jealous of you and your perfect family!

yan!slasher who almost jumps on her the moment those words spill from her sagging red-painted lips. he continued driving the golf cart on the green, trying to contain himself, the past he desperately was trying not to relapse into. but at the same time, did her family even need her? he’s heard the rumors from the drunk colleagues after work in the bar, how she practically was pouncing on her children when they came home with an a- or anything below. the complete opposite of what a woman should be! she’s the complete opposite of you!

yan!slasher who came to the conclusion mrs. rothschild's family could live without her. a pathetic old woman desperately trying to relive her youth by hating on those with lives oh so much better than hers. yes, she could die; it would be for the greater good. but at the same time, he couldn't fall into his old ways. his family needed him- you needed him. he was the sole provider for your little children, and to think like tha- ‘to think that man even has a wife like her. such a pathetic man.’

yan!slasher who is grateful he kept up with working out. beneath that knitted sweater, white button-down, and expensive pants, it was plainly obvious. of course, he made sure you would remember that whenever all the kids were asleep. you did say you wanted to try for another after all.

yan!slasher who decided that the only way to get rid of mrs. rothschild was to tell you to invite her for tea one-on-one. poisoning that vegan tea she liked oh so much and some sleeping drugs in yours. you and the children wouldn't need to know this side of him, grabbing her hair through that kentucky derby hat, ripping the expensive fabric, and gripping to her hair with his strong fingers, still rough and padded from his days in high school up until now, switching to golfing with his work buddies.

yan!slasher who left a note telling you he was going to work early from some colleagues slacking off, and mrs. rothschild left when you fell asleep. that was all a cover-up for him to leave town for a day or two. he just needed to find that deserted fishing lake his college told him about. that sewage spilling would cover up her pathetic, rotting body in no time. now you could live your happy little stepford wife life with no trouble!

yan!slasher who started slipping up more and more. sure, he wouldn't have wanted this at the beginning. this was a new place, a new year. but it was all for you! why shouldn’t he protect his wife and children? he’s already the sole provider, after all.

yan!slasher who makes sure to dispose of tell the housing committee that anyone who even looked at you the wrong way mailbox was approximately two inches farther than the housing code in section 2-a of the appropriate home guide they would give you on the first day of moving in.

yan!slasher who makes sure you don't know what happened to that woman who said such horrible atrocities about you. some such as your couch wasn’t complimenting the cheese platter you had served last week! so horrible and rude of her! how low do these people get? now, do you know her truly body and soul like him? well, no- you didn't. why should you stay up to date or even notice those beneath you and your wonderful perfect magazine family?

yan!slasher who was surprised when you did ask if she was alright but made sure you don't worry your little head off, darling wife. she was cheating on her husband with the couples' therapist anyway.

yan!slasher who noticed that man who looked at your photo in his wallet a split second longer than he should. he was slacking off at his job! fine reasons for someone to be fired as soon as snatches that position he’s been working oh so hard for! aren't you just so happy for him? don't think you should reward him? have the kids go to their friends' house for a night and let him finally spend some alone time with you, the creaking of the bed frame hitting the wall the whole night, heartbeats intertwining into one?

yan!slasher who was grateful he had chosen such a safe town to live. a gated community was supposed to protect the outside not the inside after all. no one would suspect the nice and peaceful town would be harboring a murderer.

yan!slasher who wondered what the townspeople were thinking. he almost felt giddy at it. but he can't be distracted when his main priority is and always be you.

yan!slasher who is overjoyed when the town decides to host a party to try and brighten everyone's mood. this would be another perfect opportunity to show the community how perfect his pretty little wife is! yes, he wanted to look good, only for you. you were the only one he saw, why should he care about the others? you were the main attraction. he would make sure people would know that.

yan!slasher who let you put some makeup onto him to try and spruce him up a bit. who cares if it wasn’t masculine? he would be hotter than any other man there anyway. besides, he was the only one that had a wife that loved him! how pathetic was it to hate those who have more than you?

yan!slasher who ignores the looks women give him. envy. yearning. desire. if one woman even touched him or, god forbid, a man talk to you, he would just have to rip that cute little esophagus right out of their throat in front of everyone!

yan!slasher who, of course, doesn't. why would he ever subject your eyes to even the thought of blood? but he does cling to you the whole night. you want to talk to some of the wives? oh, no, i don’t think that would be for the best. after all, your husband is right here. he’s been so busy with work, why would you ever want to leave your devoured spouse to spend time with friends?

yan!slasher who, once he hears the rumors going around that he, him, your wonderful loving husband was the one killing people, was over this little town.

yan!slasher who makes sure you didn't try any of the punch or alcohol they were serving. 

yan!slasher who makes sure that you both leave early.

yan!slasher who makes sure to tell the kids to pack up.

yan!slasher who makes sure that he already had everything you needed to leave.

yan!slasher who makes sure to grab a photobook of your family and get everyone in the car. 

yan!slasher who makes sure you don’t check the news on that small town you lived in.

“leaving? no, baby. just take a nap and when you wake up you’ll have a whole new life. i’ll protect you.”

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hello. Can you write yandere/dark Maegor Targaryen and feamle reader ?

The king's blood and shadow

King Maegor Targaryen x servant!reader

warning : yandere, obsession, mentioned smut, tiny tiny comfort, dark blood magic, targaryen incest, death/murder

Summary : The third Targaryen king with his wives, Dragonstone and King's Landing filled with queens but not a single one pregnant with a son only monsters killed by poison. Until the king gets a new servant, a servant who is like him, embracing the darkness and personally chosen by his mother…a servant created to give him what he desires most.

info : Thank you very much dear anon i was very happy about the request ahh yandere Maegor is just so good and sexy so have fun and see you next time.

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anger, despair and hatred surrounded the king, the second son of his father, and the image of a strong warrior on whose head lay the ruby crown, ruby taken with the blood and fire he had brought to his enemies and his own family to gain the throne.

The throne that belonged to him he was the stronger one his half-brother a weakling just like his aunt but he finally had the throne, Balerion and Darksister at his side but only one thing he did not have an heir.

A king had to take a queen, like his father perhaps two, but with lust and hatred and a hint of despair that he would end up without an heir, he took one after the other, even taking his own dragon blood Rhaena as his wife, but none, none of these ungrateful women could give him what he wanted.

The handsome king turned to his mother in the nights the no boy in him came out with hate and screams wondering why he had no heir, ,,Don't you see all these women are whores, even Rhaena she has already given her abdomen to someone else but he is dead you killed him, you my dragon must take the direct blood and bind it to you" her words echoed in her chamber as the wit queen turned to her table, she had spread power and terror in her bloom but now with a glance at the dark shadows and blood filled vials she could give her son the "sister" he had always wanted.

,,When this blood comes she will be mine mother i promise you and she will give the kingdom an heir" he replied with certainty in his voice knowing he appreciated his mother's work but never believing he would soon feel the true power of old valyria and magic.

He knew the legends and legends had heard the old tales in Valyrian from his father, mother and aunt even his hlabbrother of the magic his own dragon emerged from such wonders but what would come to him was something that happened in him like a coin toss, a god who would look at his creation and take care of it.

When only a few moons later the king was in his chamber writing letters with instructions for the marches to extinguish further ends of resistance, there was only one way to join or join the fire as his father had done, ,,It's open mother" he said as there was a soft knock and he heard the almost inaudible footsteps of his mother.

The dowager queen, however, had someone else with her someone he had never seen before but a young woman who burned like a flame in his heart, the same violet eyes as his and Visenya's, the same soft body as his mother a quiet smile light almost white hair and a sweet voice that gave a ,,Good evening my king" and she curtseyed, pushing her dress up slightly and he caught a glimpse of the pure skin on her legs.

She was like a light, purer than fire, purer than anything he had ever seen and the blood in his body boiled like flames before a war when he felt his hands clutching her stall, wanting to take her at once.

,,She is your half-sister from now on your servant…the gods have been kind to me once more" was the only thing his mother said to him, but the mischievous smile on her lips and the almost flashing of her violet eyes gave him a shiver as he felt the shadows surrounding his mother.

She was a witch, a former queen, and had helped her son once more when she presented him with his desired flesh and blood.

The night on Dragonstone was suffused with the flames and roars of Balerion as the light of the flames in the king's room did not seem to go out as he fell upon his new property, taking and taking her, her body responding to him as none of his wives had done before, her voice sweet and gentle as she praised him in Valyrian, telling of distant kingdoms and giving herself to him.

Even if she was his sister born of shadow, to him she was his blood, but to the court she was only a servant, a property of the king and a property to be claimed only by him, and in the next few days men and maids burned and torn from the walls of the castle, hanging themselves to death when they met the bright white shadow, wanting to commit crimes against the thief or escape this horror.

While his light brought him almost indifference during the day, it was the next in which she began to live, ,,For fear of your revenge, they would rather throw themselves into the deep than take you," she said and only for a fraction of a moment did he think he heard his mother speak from her before she sought his lips and entangled him in a kiss and his rough hands cut the dress from her body with a dagger.

Shreds fell to the floor and light cuts were visible on her skin blood was licked up by him he feasted on her sweet taste as he took her again and again.

But the hanging lowborns were only the beginning as he began to dress his "servant" in dark and reddish clothes, watching her wear his dragon symbol, her body belonging to him, ,,A shadow filled with the light of the Dragon King," she said as a hand placed itself on her belly and Maegor swore to feel life in her womb, she would give him an heir after all.

She was at his side only from then on, sitting next to or on his throne, her crown resembling his and he watched with her the executions of those who spoke out against his only queen, the madness and vengeance in the king growing worse and worse, Balerion winning every campaign and Maegor soon dying.

,,Let it be known that the king is expecting an heir, his only wife his light will give him a son born of blood and shadow" he demanded and soon the news reached the people and the surrounding highborn houses.

For every contradiction he had the one and his house killed, so much so that he pressed his light, her chains tightened and tightened around her neck just so that he could pull her close to him, embracing her, ,,You will never leave me" he told her the further her pregnancy progressed and the king locked her up so that only he had access and his mother could visit her "daughter".

He visited her talked to her hugged her and was so sweet to her he reeked of death and blood as she realized what he gave for her to expose liars ,,My heart and soul belong only to you my Maegor" she let him know when she put her hand on his cheek and he pulled her into a kiss his thoughts were on her and the son he had to have the same pure Valyrian look.

Look only through him because he had given her his seed, held her like a pretty bird in a cage knowing she was his and had no choice. Thoughts of his inheritance, his perfection he came close to surpassing even his father, he was the only one who would need his light and the kingdom.

A once dark figure of shadows, a servant of lust and soon to be her brother's only queen as on the full moon in the hour of the bat cries and moans almost driven by lust left her lips as Maegor held her hand in Valyrian assuring her that all she had to do was keep pushing.

Hours and hours of blood and pain had passed but only Maegor and Visenya were in the room to tend to the queen as more screams left her mouth and blood continued to pour from her as Visenya instructed her daughter to do something in past words and unknown syllables and Maegor watched as the younger one obeyed and the birth seemingly came to an abrupt end with a final scream and a baby was born on Dragonstone, a boy, heir to the throne.

,,Born of light and fire, this will be ours forever," the king said as he carefully took the child from his mother, who had wrapped it in cloth, and the king showed the creature to his queen, bright violet eyes looking at both of them and light hair with a single black strand hidden underneath that resembled a shadow as his mother gave birth to him and the creature of magic.

,,The future king," the young mother murmured, gently taking her son in her hand as Maegor went to her bed and Visenya left her children alone with a knowing smile while blood and shadows continued to surround her.

Knowing that she would do anything for her son, the kingdom and her late husband it was only a matter of time before Maegor wanted another heir and the kingdom would be plunged into suffering and death from his life and for the sake of his wife for whom he would do anything because she belonged to him and no one else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[petitelepus]

Hashiras x platonic tsugoku Female teenager/child reader? The reader is between 12-13 years old, she is very determined and passionate when it comes to training, she loves to train and never complains about training or misses it, at the same time she shows great potential. One day the reader does not get up and misses training, Hashira confused that she does not appear goes to see her and realizes that she is in a fetal position suffering because her first period arrived

PART 1

PART 2

You were young but eager to learn and it would have been a lie to say that you didn't have the potential to become a Hashira yourself one day.

Despite your young age, you trained harder than anyone else, even surpassing men twice your age or size. Your Master was proud of you, you were their star Tsuguko, but you still had stuff to learn.

You were so diligent, so when you one morning failed to show up to a training session with your Master, they were naturally worried.

So they sought you out and found you curled up on your futon in the fetal position. They gasped your name and you looked up and they nearly froze when they realized that you were crying.

"I- I'm bleeding...!" You sniffled as you winched, your tummy hurting like someone twisted a knife there.

"Is it bad? It hurts...! I must be sick! A- Am I going to die?" Questions came out of your mouth as you panicked and your Master was shocked.

Giyu frowned as he noticed the red spot on your futon and he immediately knew what was happening. He took a seat across from you and proceeded to explain to you what periods were and you were shocked into silence. What did he mean you were going to get them each month for the rest of your life!? Giyu nodded and you felt like crying, but those must have been the mood swings. The Water Hashira thinks you need to see Shinobu so she can explain things better.

Kyojuro stared at you for a second before alarms went off in his mind. What was happening and why were you bleeding? He is panicking a little and helps you up and takes you to see Shinobu who explains to you guys that you aren't hurt, just growing. Kyojuro is almost as pale as a ghost when he hears that you will suffer like this each month for the rest of your life. You poor thing, it must be rough but don't worry, he will bring you sweets to make you feel better!

Muichiro tilted his head at the sight of you hugging your knees against your chest as your stomach hurt. It takes him a second or couple of minutes to realize that you are in pain. He tells you to get up and go see one of the Butterfly girls or Shinobu herself so they can patch you up and give you something for your pain so you can keep training. Oh, you clueless young man. When he learns the reason for your cramps and bleeding, he gives you a couple of days to rest.

Obanai knew immediately what the problem was and he sighed as he told you that you weren't dying, but you were growing up instead. You were confused and scared as you asked your Master if he was as hurt and bleeding as you were when he was growing. Obanai immediately hisses that it's a woman's thing, not a man's, and goes to fetch Shinobu since he is too uncomfortable to actually explain what is happening to you.

Mitsuri immediately cries out as she rushes to your side and hugs you, telling you and assuring you that you aren't dying and that she bleeds also! You are confused and she explains to you that girls start bleeding when they grow up and start becoming women. You're already crying and she hasn't even told you about mood swings yet. Will hug you and tell you that it will get easier.

Tengen knows also what's wrong with you since he has 3 wives who go through that same thing each month. He is a master when it comes to helping women feel better during their periods, he has it all for tummy aches, painkillers, hot water bottles, you name it, he got it. He knows it's painful so he tells you to rest and not to work too hard until he sees you well enough to continue training.

Sanemi blinked, stunned and this clueless idiot grabbed you and carried you all the way to Shinobu, screaming how she had to save his start Tsuguko. The Insect Hashira took a look at you and smiled as she assured Sanemi that you weren't dying, but you had instead taken a step towards womanhood. What the Hell did that even mean?

Gyomei can't actually see, but he can smell the blood and he grows worried in a matter of seconds. He asks you where the blood is coming from and stills when you tell him that it's in your panties. Ah... The Stone Hashira tells you that you aren't dying, but you need to see Shinobu... But this worries you enough to make you cry and hearing you crying makes him cry also. So you are both crying together and this worries Genya enough to get Shinobu to see you crybabies.

Shinobu immediately understands what's wrong and gently sits with you and offers you a painkiller for cramps. As you rest, she starts explaining what periods are, what causes them, and what you should expect to happen, such as cramps and mood swings. She instructs you on how to live with periods and tells you to rest for a day or two because the first ones are always the worst.

Honestly, she is the best when handling this and many other Hashiras look up to her enough to seek her help with you. To them, Shinobu is their saving grace.

[wraith-lantern]

Stardust Crusaders X Child! Reader Pt. 1

Found Family, Fem Stand User Reader (Takes after J. Geil and Hol Horse but Avdol is here.)

“Come ‘ere, ya little rat,” the tall blond man picked you up by the collar of your shirt.

You squirmed to try and get away from him, or just out of his grasp at least but he was too strong.

“Don’t mess up this time, Hol Horse,” another blond man spoke but his voice was more menacing.

That menacing blond man was your father. Not your actual father but more of an adopted father.

Your mother was one of his many wives, and you were just a young child caught up in your mother running away with you in her grasp. Your mother was not exactly known for picking men that would treat her right. The best men of the bunch so to speak.

Well, not like you should care who she picks anymore because she was literally about to let your new father kill you.

And when I say “about to kill you,” he obviously didn’t, seeing as this older man, Hol Horse, was essentially holding you by the scruff. Your father, DIO, didn’t kill you for one reason only. That’s because you had a stand.

Your stand, “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” allowed you to control people with strings attached. You could also use these strings to grab and pull things closer to you, that’s what you usually used it for. Alessi was being mean and wouldn’t give you any cookies? He put them up on the counter where only he could reach them? Well, that earned him a broken cookie jar as you used your stand to pull the cookie jar down to your height.

Back to the present…

Hol Horse marched out the mansion with you slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You hadn’t really been debriefed about what exactly you and Hol Horse were going to do. After all, you didn’t really know this man and strangers were dangerous, your mother told you. Ironic that she took you and ran away to live with a stranger.

Anyways, you weren’t allowed out of the mansion during certain times, and you weren’t debriefed in case someone was listening in. The Stardust Crusaders found your father by noticing a fly. Joseph Joestar could be listening in with Hermit Purple at any moment.

“Just follow my orders and you’ll be fine, pipsqueak,” Hol Horse grumbled as he finally set you down.

Did I mention he hated children? Yeah, Hol Horse is not a big fan of children. So to say he was a little peeved that he was stuck working with you is an understatement. The first person he worked with was defeated by Polnareff and Kakyoin, how was a small child like you supposed to help him defeat the Crusaders?

Once Hol Horse caught wind of them, he motioned you over with his hand.

“Now here’s the deal, you’re gonna be a distraction. See those men over there?”

You saw the backs of 5 men and a dog. You almost left to go ask if you could pet the dog.

“Hey, focus kid,” Hol Horse shook your shoulders gently to make you lock back in.

“Go up there and do anything to distract them.”

You nodded and skipped up to the five men and the dog.

“Excuse me, can I pet your dog-“

You were finally met by the men turning around to face you. Once you saw them, you were completely terrified! One of them was in a school jacket and had such a stern look on his face. He shot you a glare. The others looked just as threatening.

One of them crouched down to meet your level. He had white hair that stood up straight and blue eyes. When he spoke, you noticed a French accent.

“Sorry, young lady, but he tends to bi- Wait woah why is she crying?!” Polnareff looked nervous now as tears started to flow out of your eyes.

How were you supposed to communicate with these men? You just wanted to run away, they were scary!

“H-Hey, there’s no need to cry! You can pet him, just don’t complain if he bites you,” Polnareff tried to quell your tears but agreeing to letting you pet Iggy wasn’t working at all.

“C’mon Polnareff, the young girl is scared witless!” An older man with graying hair put his hand on Polnareff’s shoulder.

“I didn’t even do anything!” Polnareff exclaimed, “Jotaro probably glared at her!”

The older man with graying hair then kneeled down to your level.

“Hey there, I’m Joseph Joestar, but you can call me Mr. Joestar. What’s your name?” The old man asked.

Joseph Joestar! You heard that name before. He was supposedly an enemy of your father.

“M-My name is (Name)…” you managed to stammer through tears.

Hol Horse was disappointed, but not surprised. Of course you managed to mess this whole operation up. You were only a kid.

One of the teens narrowed his eyes at you. It was the one with a golden chain.

"Move it, Jiji," he grunted as he walked over to you.

Like a frightened animal, you cowered and finally snapped your fangs back.

"Gimme!" You called out for your stand.

Translucent gold strings shot out from your hand and attached themselves to the menacing teen.

"G-Go away!" You managed to squeal, your stand struggling for a moment but the teen started to walk away due to your stand's control.

The others were completely shocked. This young kid had a stand?

"Amazing work, (Name)!" Hol Horse called out, emerging from his hiding spot with his stand, The Emperor, in hand.

You sniffled as you tried to tighten your control on the teen, in turn making your stand's grasp on him harder.

"Mr. Hol Horse, they're scary!" you cried.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever (Name). Go command Jotaro to die or something by your stand," Hol Horse waved you off.

"B-But that would hurt him..." you retorted.

"Of course it would hurt him! Ugh, nevermind, (Name)! Can you spread your control to others?" Hol Horse grimaced as he dodged an oncoming attack.

You shook your head, your stand's grip on Jotaro weakening as the small humanoid finally awakened itself and tried to fend off Star Platinum to the best of its ability.

"God dammit, (Name)! You're worthless!" Hol Horse groaned.

Tears started to blur you vision, and you accidentally let go of Jotaro on your own.

You muttered something under your breath, but Hol Horse didn't seem to listen or care.

That was until you screamed at him, "Go away, you big meanie!"

Translucent gold tendrils shot out at him, leaving him no time to react. The gold cable stuck itself to him, and he started to move against his will.

"H-Hey, (Name)! You can't do that. DIO's gonna be pissed if you don't come back!" Hol Horse tried to get you to stop.

You just glared at him. You knew that was probably a lie. After all, he did try killing you once.

"I don't wanna go back!" You cried before someone picked you up in their arms.

It was a man in his late 20s with warm skin.

"You're doing great," Avdol spoke with a soft voice, encouraging you.

And so, the Stardust Crusaders gained a new member, a very young but capable member in the form of a young child.

[totally-not-your-babe]

Shadows of Rome - Prologue

A/N: I had no idea Caracalla's name - one of them - was Bassianus till I started planning this fic and did the digging for it. English is not my first language so please bear with me please. Also I'm sorry but I didn't read it over again because it's waaaay too late here and I have to work tomorrow...

Warning(s): mention of death

Rome was celebrating. The people gathered around the palace, everything was covered with flower petals, the best food was prepared, and the sweetest wines were brought from all regions.

They were celebrating the future empresses. Septimius Severus had already arranged the marriage of his sons when they could barely walk. The Cornelii family was powerful, they had lands and slaves, they were one of the wealthiest families in Rome with two daughters not much younger than the emperor’s twins. They wanted to solidify their power and wealth, Severus wanted wives for his sons from good families to strengthen his future dynasty. He stood on top of the stairs with his wife – Julia Domna stood their as majestic as ever, back straight as an arrow, her smile never faltering – and their sons. Geta was mimicking his mother’s posture even her smile – which didn’t reach his eyes – as he stood close to her fingers almost itching to reach for her hand for some comfort. Bassianus on the other hand didn’t even try to hide he hated to be there. He tugged at his dress even after his mother warned him to stop it, he made fun of the Senator who announced the Cornelii family’s arrival. He only seemed to calm down a little when Geta reached for his arm and squeezed it, just in time because their father was losing his patience, and they both knew – their mother knew - what happened when he did.

The carriage stopped at the bottom of the stairs and Marcus Cornelius Lentulus stepped out of it first. He seemed… nervous.

“Something is not right” whispered Julia but her smile did not disappear. Severus just gave her a look from the corner of his eye but said nothing. He knew she was right, but he trusted the man at the bottom of the stairs and if he wanted to keep his head, he wouldn’t betray that trust.

The next to appear from the carriage was Fabia Drusilla, Marcus’s wife. Her dark hair was hiding a part of her pale face but even this way they could see, she had a similar expression as her husband though she tried in vain to hide it with a weak smile.

“They look like they bit into a lemon” Bassianus chuckled and Geta gently jerked his arm to silence him.

Finally, a smaller figure appeared. Her small, young body wrapped in purple coloured tunic which hugged her figure too tightly – Julia Domna thought so -, her dark hair was braided beautifully, with golden jewellery around the crown of her head she looked like a real noble girl. Severus waited for the older girl to step out of the carriage, but its door closed and the carriage slowly rolled away. One girl.

“Gods be good” sighted Julia as she tried to keep up her calm composure.

“There is supposed to be two girls.” said Geta and looked at Julia. “Mother?”

“Hush now” she shushed her son softly. “There must be an explanation for it.”

“There better be” hissed Severus in a dangerous voice which made Geta and even his brother stand straighter.

The family walked up the stairs and while they walked step by step, the people started to whisper. Everybody knew there were supposed to be two young girls arriving, so there being only one raised great concern and even more reason to start a gossip.

“Augustus, Augusta.” greeted them Marcus with shaking voice. Fabia Drusilla and the daughter silently bowed both their eyes casted down.

“Marcus, I believe you own me an explanation.” Severus stated while raising his hand for the other man to kiss.

“I’m truly sorry my Augustus… but our eldest girl Drusilla…” pain laced his voice and Julia looked at his wife who had unshed tears in her eyes. “That cruel sickness took her…  We thought our letter would get to you but it seems…” Severus raised his hand and closed his eyes a minute to think. He could send them away, but it would cause scandal, which they didn’t need just now. It would raise the distrust of the other wealthy houses, and he needed their support and now other possible wives to one of his sons.

“One girl is still better than no girl” he heard his wife whisper under her breath, and he knew she was right. It was still easier to find one girl with the qualities like this one here than two.

While the adults were negotiating under the gaze of the people of Rome the young girl in purple took the courage to look up cautiously. Her gaze met with the blue eyes of the elder twin who watched her curiously, then when he noticed her watching him a wide smile appeared on his face which for some reason made the girl smile too. His smile was infectious the kind that would make the most sorrowful person show one in return, even made her smile through her nerves and grief about her sister.

“What’s your name child?” Severus turned to the girl. Her smile immediately disappeared; she straightened her back as she looked at the emperor.

“Cornelia Marcella, Caesar.” she answered in a respectful tone. “I hope the sudden death of my dear sister did not make you change your mind about your arrangement with my father.” she added which made Geta perk up with interest. Everyone else he knew would have just quickly spoken their name and waited for his father's next words, but this girl didn’t. She, Marcella, looked his father in the eye as she talked to him, her voice smooth and gentle, but also underlined with determination. “I can promise you, even without my sister’s presence I’d be a dutiful and loyal wife to one of your sons as long as you still wish for me to be.”

Severus eyed the girl for a long moment, who decided that this was the perfect time to let go of the emperor’s gaze just to meet with similar brown as his, only gentler. Geta looked at Marcella, his head slightly tilted. She was young, younger than him and his brother, yet she talked and carried herself like a grown woman but still head this touch of innocent and naivety that mesmerized him.

“You raised the girl well Marcus” the emperor finally said with something that almost resembled to a smile which made the man let out a sigh of relief alongside with his wife who exchanged looked with Julia who later expressed condolences for her first born. “Come my friend, we have a lot to discuss…”

A/N: I'm not entirely happy with the ending here, but prologues are supossed to be short - or at least I mostly write them that way - and kinda open sooo maybe not that big of a problem. The next chapter will be longer with more Geta and Caracalla and of course Marcella. I hope you guys enjoyed this one.

Tell me if you want to be tagged!

[abrcmswrld]

Only With Your Eyes | Burt Fabelman x Neighbor!Reader

Word Count: 3017

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), slight recognized age gap, voyeurism, questionable risqué activities in the window, fingering, squirting (to an extent), general smut stuff, GN reader (no use of she/her) BUT feminine clothing described

Author’s Note: and so i said to myself “what if burt accidentally watched his neighbor change through their window but liked it”,, next thing i knew this was a thing,, i had no idea how to end this and im not totally happy with it and it’s probably ooc but idc ITS SMUTOBER BABY!

I.

Your blood turns ice cold as you glance toward his figure in the window. He's dressed in night clothes. His glasses glare as his eyes lock with yours before he jerks his gaze away.

Shit.

He saw you. There's no doubt. You quickly pull the loose night shirt over your head and close the curtains. You can feel your heart racing. He probably thinks you're a creep. A slut. Just parading your body openly for anyone to see. Didn't you have the decency to consider the lingering male gazes that romped around the neighborhood? Gazes from husbands with wives who would certainly tear into your character had they known their sweethearts' eyes had been glued to your nude body without care.

Did he have a wife? You find yourself wondering. It's a small apartment, you think. You'd never seen a woman enter his unit. You're almost certain he had children. You'd seen the teens and young adults entering the unit before. You'd even heard the laughter coming from his driveway as he embraced them in hugs.

It’s intriguing. It should be horrifying. You just unintentionally flashed your neighbor, you should want to crawl under your soft sheets and never be seen again. But instead, you find yourself wanting to know more about his mundane life.

II.

He's peaked your interest. You're not sure if he'd like to hear that. He's decently older than you. Old enough to have children in their late teens, but it doesn't stop your gaze from falling on him through your bedroom window as he walks to the set of mailboxes outside the complex.

You practically memorized his routine. Not that you meant to. It's just hard not to. It hardly changes. He goes to work at the same time, returns home at the same time, checks his mail at the same time. So after weeks of watching you decide to switch things up for yourself. It wouldn't hurt to visit the mailbox a little later in the day.

So you do. And just as you expected, he did too. It's awkward. He says nothing, only smiles in your direction. You smile back. He's handsome up close. The scent of his cologne tickles your nose in the best way possible. You break the silence, introducing yourself.

"I live in the building unit across the way from yours."

A blush rises to his cheeks. He's flustered and you figure it's because of the incident from weeks ago. But he's polite. He doesn't chastise you and instead acts as if he had no idea of your mistake.

"I'm Burt. It's nice to meet you. I don't normally have time to converse with neighbors."

You stare at your feet. You can't even think of what to say after that. The tension lays thick in the air between you two, but he's a gentleman. Perhaps you should...

"I'm sorry for..."

He swallows thickly.

"Um-I'm sorry for not introducing myself sooner, Burt. It's very nice to finally meet you."

You outstretch a soft hand for him to shake and he does. He has slightly calloused palms and a firm grip that feel so nice against yours.

You don’t keep him long. Better to ease into it, you think. You feel a little giddy as you walk quietly back to your own unit.

III.

It makes your heart race the next time you catch his gaze through the window. You're starting to pull the curtains shut, but his gaze causes you to hesitate and pause briefly, one hand still fisting the coarse fabric of the curtain.

He simply stares up at you. And you're sure he sees you staring right back. Suddenly there's a spark in your stomach that makes you giddy. You leave the gap in the curtains and turn to instead peel your shirt over your head. You face away from him at first. The burning in your cheeks and the flush on the tips of your ears prevents you from meeting his gaze or checking to see if he had even kept watching you.

You pull your skirt and tights down the length of your legs. You're bare with only under garments covering your goose-bumped skin. It's cold in the room. Something inside you longs to feel warm calloused hands rubbing the lengths of your body. Taking care of you.

You turn to face him.

He stares right back at you.

His expression is focused, but in particular you notice that his hand have remained at his sides. As if you were a piece of art in a museum, and he is satisfied to view you from a distance without letting hands wander where they shouldn't.

You can't help but give him a smile as you place a hand on the glass of the window.

You turn to display the way that your fingers work the clasps of your bra open, excited to show off for him but, when you turn you find that he has pulled the curtain shut. You can't find it in yourself to be hurt. Instead you grin and pull your curtain shut as well.

What a gentleman.

IV.

He still doesn't make an effort to speak to you. It's not that you think he doesn't like you or is possibly annoyed by your late night "shenanigans," he just goes about his day as if nothing had happened. Still only a friendly neighbor whom you spot leaving every day work.

He was driving you insane. You had dreams of him lately. Dreams in which he had actually touched you. Dreams in which he had kissed your flesh and caressed you with haste. You'd always wake up feeling sweaty and needy.

So you decide you're done waiting around. You've never been a perfect baker, but the cookies you make are good enough to be given to him, and it gives you an excuse to talk to him. Actually talk to him.

You take a deep breath before you knock on his apartment door. It takes a moment, but he eventually comes to the door. He's still dressed in work clothes: dress pants, a crisp shirt, and nice tie. You swallow sharply before speaking.

"I made cookies. I was wondering if you were busy."

It comes out so fast he looks almost stunned as he tries to decode your intentions. "You...want to come in?" You're practically bouncing on your heels. "Yes! Yeah. I thought it be nice to...get to know each other."

He smiles softly and steps back, letting his front door open a little wider for you to slip into the apartment with him. It's nice. Tidy. Although not thoroughly decorated. He seems to be a logical man, not quite one to put so much thought into the creative expression of interior decorating.

You gently sit the tin of cookies on the table and turn to face him. "I..I hope you're not opposed to chocolate chip." He laughs airy and soft and shakes his head. "Chocolate chip is good."

He pauses for a moment and hesitates before speaking, "It's good to speak to you again." You already feel the flush pulsing into your cheeks and you smile.

"I wanted to speak to you more. I see you a lot. But we never speak."

He raises a brow as he listens to you speak. Oh you see each other. He knows exactly what you're alluding to, but neither one of you can bring it up explicitly. He sits in the chair across from you and gestures for you to do the same.

"You have kids?" You gesture at a photo of Burt and a boy, no older than a teenager. Burt smiles. "Yes. He's my son, Sammy. I have daughters too." You nod and smile. "They seem like good kids. I see them when they come here sometimes. Just from across the yard. They always looks so happy to see you."

He nods. "I sure would hope so. They are good kids." Silence falls between the two of you for a moment. There's an awkward tension. You can see it clearly now, he's not wearing a wedding ring. But the issue still seems like a giant elephant in the room. "And a wife?"

It comes out a low whisper, and he gives a confused look. "I'm sorry, what was that?" You clear your throat and prepare yourself for the potential embarrassment. "Uh...A wife? Do you have a wife?" He raises his brows and his mouth opens slightly. He seems slightly shocked that you had asked, and you can only hope he isn't completely offended at the prying question.

"No. Not anymore."

It's clearly a sore subject for him. You can see it in the way his mouth forms a straight line. You can only whisper. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry like that." He shakes his head and places a hand on top of yours where it rests on the tabletop. "It's okay, really."

He's looking right at you and you feel the pressure of his stare immediately. Paired with the warmth and softness of his hand, you almost feel your brain short circuit. But you stare back at him with wide eyes. Suddenly you're thinking of his gaze through the window and the way he had taken in the sight of your body. Your cheeks are burning hot.

"I've not overstepped a boundary these past couple of nights have I?"

You blink at him, shocked that he would even allude to the previous nights. You shake your head slowly and practically gasp in an inhale. "No. Have I?" He chuckles and smiles. You feel his thumb caress the meat of your hand. "Not at all."

You can't even believe that the two of you are speaking about this. A little part inside of you expected you both to ignore it and pretend you can't done anything, especially something so voyeuristic. His hand moves from your hand to your cheek, brushing a small piece of hair out of your face. His touch lights your skin on fire.

You quickly stand from where you had been sitting across from him. He looks stunned, shocked, maybe even nervous. You walk closer to him, closer and closer, filling the space until your shins hit his. "Is everything okay?" You hardly let him get the question out before you're leaning down to kiss him.

You feel almost childish and overly bold. But his skin against yours lit a fire in you where he had already placed a spark through the window days prior. You're thankful that he's quick to kiss you back. Thankful he doesn't push you away.

You place yourself onto his lap, legs dangling off the side of his thigh and an arm wrapped around his shoulders to hold yourself upright. You feel his hands fall onto you hips and you can't help but smile into the kiss.

When you pull away slowly, his eyes are locked onto yours. You can practically see his gears turning as his mouth remains slightly ajar. He says nothing, just continues to grip the meat of your hip. You break the silence,

"I want you to kiss me more. Is that alright?"

As if he received a sudden burst of strength and energy, he raises from his seat, picking you up off his lap and placing you down onto the table in front of the two of you.

He towers over you as he kisses you, feverishly, starved like a man who hasn't felt this sort of affection in years. You let your hands grip his arms as he ravishes you. It's everything you wanted and could've ever imagined. Your kind, reserved neighbor whom you've wanted so bad finally reaching a breaking point in his lust for you.

You smile into the kiss, secretly feeling a bit of accomplishment wash over you. His hand is traveling up, up, up your skirt, caressing your thigh and resting his fingers dangerously close to your aching core. You gasp into his mouth.

"This is okay?"

His inquiry is soft and whispered and his eyes are pleading. You nod your head quickly. He furrows his brows and closes his eyes as his forehead rests against yours, "I need you to tell me. Tell me you want me." It sends lightning bolts of arousal straight to your core. You're sure your underwear are ruined. You nod quickly, "I want you, Burt. Please..."

The last word strains out into a whine from you. You sound pathetic, and you hope he will take mercy on you just this once. His fingers inch closer to your soaked underwear, the pads of his fingers brushing your clit through the fabric. Your nails dig into the wood of the table.

He's staring at you, intense, the slightest bit of intrigue behind his eyes. "There?" His question comes as he makes loose circles around the clothed bud. You squeeze your eyes closed and nod.

He continues his light touches on your clit until you can no longer hold back a choked off moan. It seems to spur something in him as his hands are quick to move to grip the waistband of your underwear at your hips, slowly sliding the soiled fabric down your legs.

He brushes his fingers over your folds, spreading them slightly, as if he's observing the science of it all. "So perfect..." It's a whisper and, it leaves a shiver running down your spine. A finger prods at your entrance. Your eyes squeeze shut and you can't help the whine that escapes your mouth as his finger slides deeper into you.

It doesn't feel real. Even after the absolute show you had put on for him at your window, you could've never imagined having his hands on you in such an intimate way. But you love it. He touches you like it's a totally new experience. Like you're something for him to pick apart and figure out.

The fog of your thoughts clears immediately as his finger curls upwards and into the most sensitive spot inside you. The gasp you let out is pathetic, but you hope the blissed out smile on your face is enough to comfort any worry he may have. "Burt-"

He cuts you off as he works his finger against that spongy tissue, "I'll take care of you. Let me take care of you..." His lips are so close to yours once again, but he holds your face with his free hand. You nod your head, "Yes..."

You can feel that tension deep within you. A rubber band ready to snap at any moment. But you're desperate to hold it back. You haven't even touched him yet. You reach a hand around the back of his neck, reaching up till your finger tangle in short, neat hair. 

"Wanna touch- wanna touch you." It comes out broken with a whine. 

He responds quickly and wordlessly, letting his free hand fall to his belt. You close your eyes, the desperation and anticipation becoming too much for you. He moves his hips closer to yours. You let your knees rest on the sides of his hips as he finally pulls his cock free. Its vulgar. In the privacy of his own home, yet displayed for him on his own kitchen table. His eyes are dark with lust, but his hands are careful as they touch you.

You let your hand wrap around his cock. You revel in the gasp he lets out as your skin makes contact. He's soft and warm, and you never want this to end. You're desperate to make him finish before you inevitably give into the lighting strikes his fingers are brining to your core. 

You had been so open through the window, beginning to not care what other's would think if they had saw you, but you find the thought daunting in this moment. Burt and yourself panting over each other on his kitchen table. A divorced father, and a younger neighbor who had so openly given themselves to him. 

It washes away when his lips meet yours again. It's not hurried. Not rushed or sloppy. It's deep, with a sense of care that makes you shiver. He's not some college guy, willing to fuck and immediately kick you out. You're reminding of what had drawn you to Burt in the first place. Older, yes, but with a sense of care for the things that he held close. You could see it in the way that he so graciously greeted his children, and in the way that he kept his house neat even while living alone.

He liked to figure out how things worked. What makes the world tick. You can see it in his eyes as he brushes different spots inside you and glances back to you with a curious eye. You know he gets his satisfaction from understanding the inner working of the things he surrounds himself with. You can see it in his eyes as you gush around his fingers, and the way he gasps with wide eyes as you helplessly drip onto the table and floor. You can’t help the way your legs tremble through your orgasm. You feel pathetic.

You cannot help the blood that rushes to your cheeks. It’s embarrassment. But he doesn’t seem to see it that way as his cock twitches in your hand and spurts hot finish over your knuckles. He leans down to kiss you but can only gasp and groan into your mouth.

You’re already shaking under him. Sticky and damp. Debauched. Fear strikes through you again. This is a not a dream, not a playful glance through a pane of glass. You’re covered in each other.

“I-I’m sorry…”

You half expect him to hastily forgive you, usher you to redress, and push you right out the door, never to speak of it again. But he doesn’t.

Instead he kisses you again. And the way his fingers grip your figure close to his makes you believe this won’t be your last time in this situation. You can’t bring yourself to be ashamed anymore.