#if you see this DON'T REBLOG YET !! it's just so i have it locked & loaded lmao

[unvendaval]

yo necesito amar a quien me quiera de verdad . tal vez sea involuntario , como un espasmo sicario ... un vendaval .

independent & selective multimuse , featuring muses from film , television , musicals & my own imagination . est . 2023 , loved by pantu .

con un mezcal en la mano , recuerdo todos esos labios ; evocando algún amor , fantaseando una pasión ... quiero sentir .

[bellaxgiornata]

How Far Does it Go; When Does it End?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x depressed!fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/tags: 18+; depiction of depression, suicidal ideation if you squint, confession of feelings, and angst with a hopeful ending [please don't read if any of this could be triggering]

Summary: It's been weeks that you've just been going through the motions day by day. But when you decline yet another invitation to Josie’s with your friends, a worried Matt takes it upon himself to check up on you.

a/n: This one is a little bit depressing because I've been going through some things and have been craving angst, but I promise the ending is hopeful. As mentioned in the tags, please don't read if you believe it might be triggering. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @1988-fiend @geminadeckerwritesstuff @flowher @sleepysleepymom @kezibear @writtenbyred @moncherriis @a-half-empty-g1rl @beezusvreeland @da3m0nsneverstop

Unsure how long you'd been sitting there entranced by the snow steadily accumulating along the tops of the parked cars lining the street below, you stared at the flurry of snowflakes blowing outside of the window. Tonight Hell's Kitchen was set afire by the orange glow of its street lights, the haunting warmth of them reflecting off of the snow banks. A few cars were carefully making their way through the mess of slush and ice along the road, otherwise it seemed bleak and lifeless in the city this evening.

Personally you’d always hated how little sunlight there was during the winter months. On weekdays you rose in the mornings to get ready for work before the sun had even risen. By the time you'd even managed to leave the office after work, the sun had already set. For you, most days this time of year passed by with you barely seeing more than a sliver of sunlight–because your small cubicle certainly didn't have any windows. And it wasn't likely that you would ever find yourself working anywhere with an actual view.

Resting your forehead against the chilled glass of your living room window, you released a nearly inaudible sigh as you stared out into the blackness of the night. You probably should have been doing a number of other things right now–cleaning up the dishes that had piled in your sink, taking your growing load of laundry to the laundromat a block over, or even compiling a grocery list to stock your empty fridge. But instead you just sat there leaning over the armrest of your couch, losing count of how many taxis you'd seen skid across the icy road while imagining what it might feel like if one of them just lost control and careened straight into you on the crosswalk below. 

You were so far tucked into your mind that when a dark shape dropped down onto your fire escape mere inches from your face, you had barely even reacted. Instead your eyes slowly rose up, your gaze gradually trailing its way up along the black-clad figure. Though you didn't need to see the mask covering the man's face to know who'd just landed on your fire escape. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen–or rather, one of your best friends and the subject of your unrequited affections, Matthew Murdock.

“Do you mind?” Matt's muffled voice came from outside, a hand gesturing to the window. “It's kind of cold out here.”

Pushing yourself away from the glass, you rose from the couch and stepped over to the window, reaching up and unlatching the locks. You began to slide the window up as high as it could go before stepping aside to let Matt in. A frigid gust of air and a flutter of snowflakes followed behind him as he slipped through the opening.

Sinking back into the same spot on your couch without a word, you watched as Matt turned and shut the window after himself. A dusting of snow sat along his muscular shoulders, the white a sharp contrast to all of his black. For a moment all you could do was stare at the little flecks of white, watching as they slowly began to disappear, melting into the darkness.

The sound of Matt clearing his throat broke through your daze, pulling you back to reality. He looked good standing in your living room wearing his makeshift vigilante costume. Honestly a part of you hated whenever he stopped by your apartment dressed like this solely for that reason. Because it physically pained you to look at him, especially as you watched him reach a gloved hand up to remove the mask from off of his head, the cloth giving way to reveal his face. 

He was still the most beautiful thing in your life.

“Hey,” Matt greeted, sounding slightly winded. He tossed his mask onto your coffee table, running a hand through his mussed hair as he strode towards the couch to take a seat beside you. “We missed you at Josie’s tonight.”

You fought down the doubtful scoff at his comment. It seemed highly unlikely that Matt, Karen, and Foggy had truly missed your melancholic presence at the bar tonight. The three of them could often hold full conversations before they even remembered you were silently sitting at the table with them. Which was partly why you hadn't felt like meeting them again tonight for drinks, because you were tired of feeling like the often forgotten fourth wheel of the group. 

You shrugged weakly. “Wasn't in the mood for Josie’s,” you simply said.

“Seems you haven't been in the mood for Josie’s for awhile,” Matt gently pointed out. “It's been weeks since you last joined us there.”

“Oh,” you replied.

Truthfully you didn't know exactly how long it had been since you'd last met them all there for drinks after work. The days had all blurred together lately. Maybe that explained why Matt had been so persistent on the phone when he'd called after work and continued to try and convince you to join them. But even he didn't succeed.

“Is everything alright with you?” Matt asked, his brows creasing together as his eyes fixed somewhere around your chin. “Because you seem…distant lately. Quieter than usual.”

“I'm always quiet,” you countered.

“Yes, well,” Matt said, shooting you one of his charming smiles meant to ease the tension in the room. “You seem like you're even more lost in thought than usual.”

You shrugged again before slumping back into the couch cushions. “Is that so wrong?”

The frown on Matt's mouth deepend further. “Depends,” he answered.

“On what?” you asked.

You noticed his brief hesitation, the slight pause as his head titled just a bit to the side. His eyes were scanning you now, traveling around the space you occupied beside him. 

You knew what he was doing. Reading you. Reading your body with his senses in a way that only he could. Usually that made you uncomfortable whenever you caught him doing it because you were uncertain what he might learn–like your feelings for him. So generally you called him out on it. But not tonight. Tonight you just…didn't have the energy for it.

“It depends on what you're thinking about,” Matt finally answered.

“Nothing really,” you told him. 

Matt's shoulders dropped at your response, the corners of his lips twitching downwards. You caught the way his eyes tightened in something akin to frustration. It was obvious what was coming next–the patented Matthew Murdock attempt to pry too hard for answers. Though fortunately for you he wouldn't be using his fists to get them. 

“Talk to me,” Matt ordered, shifting on the couch to face you more fully. “What's going on? Why are you shutting yourself off from everyone?”

You pulled a face at the accusation. “That’s not what I’m doing,” you argued. “Besides, isn’t that the kettle calling the pot black or something?” 

“You've been avoiding all of us for weeks,” Matt pointed out, ignoring your attempt to divert his attention. “Always making some excuse not to come out, or that you’re too tired for anyone to stop over. And you've been ignoring all of our calls.”

“I have not,” you disagreed. “I spoke to you on the phone earlier tonight.”

“Yeah,” Matt swiftly agreed with a nod. “But that was only because I called you about eight times before you finally answered.” 

His lips pursed tight together, looking as if he was internally conflicted for a second like there was more he wanted to say. You wondered why he’d even hesitated because in all the time you’d known Matt, he wasn’t usually the type to hold his tongue. 

“I've noticed you're always in your bed when I pass by at night,” he finally said. “Earlier than when you’d usually go to sleep. And I know you're not actually sleeping.”

Your chest tightened at the knowledge that Matt had been checking in on you in the evenings without you knowing. How much had he overheard while you’d been in your apartment? 

Eyes dropping down to your hands, you began to nervously pick at your fingernails. “I have a hard time falling asleep,” you mumbled.

“I can smell the tears,” Matt told you. “Even from outside your apartment. You can't hide them from me. For weeks now I've noticed you lying in bed just crying at night.” He paused, shaking his head and briefly wincing before he continued. “Something is going on and you're shutting us out. I'm not stupid. I know what you're doing. So just–just tell me what's going on. Please.”

You contemplated lying even though you knew he'd be able to tell. Then you contemplated making up something just to get him to stop asking questions. You even contemplated telling him off for eavesdropping before cursing him out for invading your privacy. But what surprised you was how you felt compelled to just tell him the truth. Because you were just too damn tired to do anything else.

“Why?” you asked weakly. “Why do you want to know?”

Matt’s entire face tightened, looking as if he was offended you'd even asked him that. Then seconds later his expression abruptly shifted to irritation and you braced yourself at the sight of it.

“Because I care about you!” he snapped, his frustration finally coming out. “We all do! And we're concerned about you! How do you not get that?”

You flinched at the volume of his voice, shrinking in on yourself on the couch. Matt had never spoken to you like that before and it had taken you by surprise. Clenching your jaw tighter, you began to pick faster at your nails. Beside you Matt released a sigh, his head dropping down towards his chest as one of his gloved hands reached up, the heel of it rubbing at his temple.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just worried, okay? I didn’t mean to yell. I just want to help.”

“Sometimes you can’t.”

The words had slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them. Like a knee-jerk reaction. Out of your peripheral you saw Matt’s head raise up again, his eyes landing near you on the couch. You froze, your fingers halting their fidgeting.

“What?” he asked softly. 

“Sometimes you can’t,” you repeated. “Sometimes there's people you can’t help, Matt.”

His eyes narrowed back at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as you tried to swallow back the lump forming in your throat, you knew there was no turning back now. He’d only pry harder if you tried to push him away at this point. Being as stubborn as Matt was, you wouldn’t put it past him to sit on your couch until the sun came up waiting for you to tell him what he wanted. 

So with a heavy sigh, you finally gave in.

“Do you ever feel like you're just…making it?” you hesitantly asked Matt.

Finally tearing your eyes from your hands, you looked in his direction, though your gaze didn't quite land on him. Rather it hovered somewhere just over his shoulder as you stared at a patched over spot on the wall. Ever since you'd moved here you’d often wondered how it had gotten there. 

“How so?” he questioned.

“Like you're just getting by–day to day, week to week?” you explained. “As if your life isn't actually going anywhere? Like you're barely holding it together and you're just one little thing from it completely falling apart? And maybe you’ve finally just, I don’t know, become numb to the fear of that happening? Because who cares, really. What does it matter?” 

Matt shifted a bit closer to you on the couch, moving slow and careful like he didn’t want to startle you. “Is that how you’ve been feeling? Like things don’t matter?”

Your eyes slid over from the patched up space on the wall and finally landed back on Matt’s face. You recognized the look there instantly. Genuine concern was written in the way his eyes were pinched tight and fixed along your chest; the firm set of his lips as his head tilted marginally to the side proving how gravely invested he was in the conversation. It was the same way he looked whenever he was intensely focused on someone out in Hell's Kitchen in need of help. You’d seen it on his face in the past when he was here as the Devil, right before he’d jump out of your window to go find whoever it was that needed him. 

But right now he was using that look on you. The gravity of it had you sitting there with your lips parted feeling like you were on the verge of either fully opening up or completely closing yourself off to him. 

And then, somehow all at once, everything poured forth from you like a teetering cup finally spilling over.

“I mean I get up, brush my teeth, get ready for work, see all the neverending and overwhelming terrible shit on the news in the morning like that's normal while I drink down a massive coffee just to survive the day. Then I go to work, smile at all the right moments, make inane small talk while feeling utterly invisible busting my ass knowing that I'm never getting that damn promotion let alone a pay raise just so I can afford to actually live out here,” you continued, everything you'd been holding back just falling out of you in a rush of words. “Then I what? Go home and cook and eat and wash the dishes and go to bed? Except going to sleep is a chore. Trying to quiet my mind is exhausting. Facing the same demons in my sleep night after night is too much. And then,” you said, aware that Matt's face had fallen, his hands gently gripping your knees even though you hadn't felt when he'd actually grabbed them, “the morning comes.”

When you didn't elaborate further Matt's head curiously tilted to the side.

“Isn't that good?” he questioned. 

“Is it?” you asked in return. 

There was a long pause, a silence filled with so many unspoken words. As you sat there staring at Matt, you could see the thoughts racing in his mind. You kept quiet as you wondered which one would eventually win out. Because you knew Matt. You knew he'd have something to say. But for some reason that also scared you a little.

When he finally spoke he said your name, the sound of it different than usual as it rolled off of his tongue–somehow tender and delicate. It took you entirely off guard, something stirring within you at the way he'd spoken it. There was an emotion struggling to break past the dam that had been staving your feelings off for weeks now, but you chose to push it back down in the moment. With your own mind spiraling, you continued on.

“There’s like this–this emptiness,” you confessed. “It’s heavy but it feels like nothing at all. You know? And it just sits right here–” You laid a hand flat across your chest, noticing the tears building in Matt’s eyes as they followed the movement. “It’s like there’s a hole. Like a blackhole just sucking everything into it lately. Everything . And I can’t do anything about it. Do you know what I mean? It’s just there .” 

You paused, licking your lips as you felt the heaviness of that metaphorical blackhole in your chest weighing you down even now. It wasn’t until Matt’s hands gripped your knees tighter that you remembered he was still touching you.

“It’s just always there,” you said, slowly losing momentum. “And I’m just left wondering how far does that emptiness go? Does it ever end?”

A long, heavy silence filled the room when you’d finally quieted. Gaze dropping down to Matt’s gloved hands still gripping your knees, you suddenly found yourself feeling ridiculous for having spilled all of that to him. You’d never gotten that personal with Matt before, certainly not about your struggles with depression. And now here you’d just dumped it on him all at once.

“I'm sorry,” you blurted, shaking your head. “That was–”

“Stop,” he ordered.

Mouth still hanging open, you stared back at him dumbfounded. He was sitting there on the couch with tears brimming in his eyes, his lips quivering as if he was struggling not to start crying himself. You felt horrible for having unloaded on him like that, for making him feel like he currently felt.

“I’m sor–”

“ Stop ,” he repeated.

Matt's hands released your knees, sliding up the outside of your thighs so carefully before they made their way towards your back. Before you'd known what was even happening, he was pulling you straight into himself on the couch, drawing you right into his chest. You didn’t fight him, not even as his strong arms encircled your waist and held you tight. Your own arms remained at your side, your cheek pressed right up against Matt’s firm shoulder as you sat there uncertain how to react. 

“I didn’t know,” Matt whispered. 

You frowned, shaking your head against his shoulder. “It wasn’t on you to know, Matt,” you replied. “I didn’t want anyone to know. That was the point.”

“Yes, but I’d heard you crying for weeks now–”

“Probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping then,” you muttered.

“–and I didn’t piece anything together,” he continued. “I figured maybe you were going through a breakup or something. From one of those dating app things you use. I didn’t know it was something much more serious.”

“I’m fine ,” you assured him. 

“No, you’re not,” he countered, his arms holding you even tighter to the front of himself as if that alone could keep you from falling apart. “You’re not, not if you feel like that. And maybe–maybe you should talk to someone,” he suggested carefully. “Because you know it's okay if you need to. There's nothing wrong with seeking help.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like a therapist?”

“If that's what would help, yes,” he answered. “But you know you're not alone, right? I'm always here. Always . So are Karen and Fog. You can talk to us, too.”

Turning your head, you attempted to hide your face against his shoulder. With your nose pressed against his spandex shirt, you could easily smell his sweat from his evening running around the city. The scent of it surrounding you felt both oddly comforting and strangely intimate. 

“I don't want to put this on any of you,” you mumbled into his shirt. 

“You know,” Matt began slowly, resting his chin lightly atop your head, “it's okay to let other people in. You don't have to keep everyone at a distance like you usually do. Some of us want to get closer to you.”

“Not to this part of me,” you whispered. “Not to this…dark part of me.”

“I let you into mine,” Matt quietly pointed out. “You might have accidentally discovered I was the Man in Black, but the rest of it? The heightened senses? The night I started going out like this? My childhood?” He shifted above you, turning his face so he could bury it against the top of your head. “I showed you the darker parts of me. I let you in.”

You knew he was right the moment he'd said it. Matt had told you so much about himself after you'd accidentally uncovered his big secret. He'd revealed so much about his dad's passing and the pain of his mentor, Stick, disappearing on him. He'd told you about his struggles hearing the people of Hell’s Kitchen in need of help and how he just couldn't ignore it any longer. He'd even told you about his ex, Elektra, and how she'd abandoned him like so many others in his life. But you'd never understood why he had.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. “You did. Though I've never understood why you let me in like you did. Because you definitely don't let others in, either, Matt. Foggy doesn't even know most of what you've told me.”

Above you Matt shifted, turning to rest his cheek against the top of your head. You sat in his embrace with your arms awkwardly at your side, that strange feeling he'd stirred awake in you just minutes ago steadily demanding to be felt.

“I thought it would have been obvious,” Matt began. “Because I'm always stopping by to see you here when I'm out. Always calling and inviting you out to Josie’s because I want you there. Letting you see all of me when I don't show anyone else.”

Your face scrunched up at his words, uncertain if he was getting at what you thought he might be getting at. Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, you began to nervously gnaw at it as you felt one of his hands begin to absently rub a soothing circle on your back.

“I care about you,” he confessed. “As more than a friend. I have for a long time.”

You nearly stopped breathing at his surprising admission, your body going still in his arms. This was not how you saw the evening going when he appeared on your fire escape. 

“I always just figured the whole Man in Black thing was too much for you,” he continued. “So I never said anything. But I always thought you knew that's how I felt.”

“I–I didn't,” you whispered, still stunned.

Matt cleared his throat, his hand stopping its absent movement on your back. You missed the comfort of it immediately. 

“I'm sorry, this isn't the time or place for this conversation,” Matt apologized. “I just…always thought you knew.”

Your own arms hesitantly found their way around Matt’s waist, finally hugging him in return. Somehow you felt his hold on you tighten further in response, a small smile slipping onto your face.

“You're right, it's not the time,” you agreed. “But for the record, I've always cared about you as more than a friend, too. I just figured you didn't feel the same or were just too busy to, you know, want something more.”

Another silence fell between the pair of you as you sat there curled around each other on your couch. Your eyes closed when his hands once more began their comforting movements along your back, your own hands fisting around the material of his shirt. For the first time in a long time you didn't feel so alone. For once you felt seen. 

“You know something,” you whispered, breaking the stillness of your apartment.  

“What?” Matt whispered against your hair.

“I get it,” you told him. Shifting in his arms, you unburied your face from its place against him, once more resting your cheek against his shoulder instead as you spoke. “I get why you do it. Why you go out at night like this,” you told him. “Because of the pain raging inside of you–the same thing I feel sometimes. And because of how it feels like the world is sometimes falling apart around us. Because it's hard to just sit back and feel like there's nothing you can do, nothing you can change.” 

You paused, your own arms holding onto him a little tighter. Matt had gone still though, as if he was intensely focused on everything you were saying.

“If I could go out and save a life, or stop a mugging, or save a child from their parents’ abuse, or rescue a young woman from an assault, I would.” A tear slipped out of your eye as you paused to exhale a shuddering breath. “And if I could hear so many others in pain, I would be going out and doing something about it, too. So I get it, Matt. Why you do what you do. And I honestly don't think that's dark at all despite how you often talk about it.”

“No?” he whispered.

“No,” you replied. “I think it's admirable. I've always thought that.”

At first Matt didn't respond, and as the silence grew around the pair of you, you wondered if you'd finally said too much tonight. Gone too far. But then you felt something gently fall into your hair, and then another and another. It took a moment before you realized they were droplets of tears.  

Crying. Matt was crying. 

“I'm sorry,” you apologized automatically, your arms attempting to unwrap from around him as you tried to pull away. “I'm so sor–”

“I said stop,” he croaked out, his arms still encircled around you, keeping you in place against his chest. “Stop apologizing.”

“I–I don't–” you stammered in confusion. “I didn't mean to upset you, Matt.”

“I'm not upset,” he explained, removing his face from where it had been pressed to the top of your head. “It's just hearing that from you,” he began slowly, “it…means more than you know. Because I–I have always thought there was something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Matt,” you immediately assured him.

“Well there's nothing wrong with you, either,” he told you. 

Tears brimmed in your eyes instantly. The dam that had felt like it was holding back all of your feelings lately–the dam that had been keeping you numb–suddenly felt as if it had finally broken as the first few tears slipped down your cheeks.

“Like I said, I know this isn't exactly the time for this conversation, but I just wanted you to know that you matter to someone,” Matt confessed. “Because you matter to me.”

Hands gripping firmly onto Matt as if he was grounding you as all your emotions came surging forth, your tears continuing to fall, you whispered back, “You matter to me, too.”

You felt Matt's mouth lightly press a kiss to the top of your head. As his lips lingered, an unexplainable weightlessness filled you. 

“And while I don't have an answer for how you're feeling,” he said softly, “I want you to know that I'm here. Whenever you need me. However you need me. Okay? Because you're not alone. You're never alone.”

Eyes slowly closing as you began to finally relax in his embrace, you felt the tears spill in steady streams down your cheeks. Maybe not everything was quite as bleak as your mind had led you to believe lately. Maybe there was still some good in the world to be grateful for. And maybe you did need to finally reach out and get some help. 

But for now, you just liked the idea of not crying alone in your bed again. 

“Is it too much to ask you to stay with me for a bit?” you asked hopefully. “I wouldn't mind having some company tonight.”

Matt placed another soft kiss into your hair.  “I'll stay as long as you want, sweetheart,” he promised.

[ringsofsaturnnnn]

— [🪐] ·˚ ༘ ✎ mine.

MDNI | a.arlert x fem!reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: possessive armin who can’t stand that his entire friend group stares at his girlfriend constantly, even when he’s right there. he hates their wandering eyes and lustful stares. you’re his, not theirs, and tonight, he’s going to make sure he proves that to them.

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴) :: voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, use of petnames, overstim, creampie, let me know if i missed anything <3

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 :: i wasn’t thinking straight when i wrote this. tbh, this is a big word vomit. not proofread for my own sanity.

© 2023 ringsofsaturn | please don't copy or repost my works! i have not given permission to anyone to repost my works. reblogs/comments/likes are okay!

𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥

tag list :: @callm3senpaii (i remember you posted about me tagging you in stuff. idk if it still stands or not just lmk if it doesn’t 😭😭)

“a-armin! slow down! p-please!” your soft cries fall on deaf ears as armin forces you down on his cock yet again. tears were spilling down your pretty cheeks as your fingers desperately attempted to clutch something. anything.

“go on. tell them how good daddy’s cock feels.” he whispered harshly in your ear as his fingers toyed with your overstimulated clit. cum was dripping out of your abused hole, which was on display for eren, reiner, connie, and jean to see.

“g-go-goooo— ah!” you could hardly get a single word out as armin’s tip hit that one spot inside of you that had you squeezing your eyes shut. he laughed, moving his fingers even quicker. “poor baby, too fucking stupid to even speak?” he mocked meanly.

eren was jerking off, quiet grunts escaping his half-parted lips. “look at eren, angel.” armin smirked evilly. when you didn’t move your head, he used his free hand to force your head in eren’s direction. “open your fucking eyes and watch eren fuck his fist to the thought of you,” he growled in your ear. “watch as he pathetically cums in his hand, wishing it was your tight cunt.”

armin’s roughness was turning you on even more as you feebly opened your eyes. your eyes immediately locked onto the taller brunette. the second you made eye contact with him with those glazed over, fucked out eyes, he came with a soft pant of your name and a small “fuck.”

your boyfriend was grinning sadistically. “aw, good girl angel. you made our pathetic friend cum just by being a good little slut.” when armin’s hips snapped into yours you squealed loudly. “c-cumming! cumming, cumming, cumming..” you wailed pathetically.

“that’s a good girl. there you go. just let yourself feel good.” he whispered reassuringly in your ear as he fucked you through your high. your legs were trembling as more tears spilled down your cheeks. “i think..” he panted. “i think i’m gonna cum soon, pretty..”

this would be his what.. third orgasm of the night? armin was insistent on pumping load after load into you, especially since he had something to prove. he had to prove to his stupid friends that you were his. his toy. his plaything. his little breed slut. you were his and they couldn’t have you.

“w-wan’ it so bad. g-gimme..” you whimpered pathetically. your pussy was sore and you weren’t sure you could take what you were begging for, but still, you pleaded for it nonetheless. like a good girl would.

“what’s the magic word, angel?” his voice was sweet, yet held a small hint of mockery. “please!” and with that, armin was thrusting into you one last time before his load was spilling into you. inhaling sharply, your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your fingernails sank into the sides of his thighs.

“that’s it. use daddy to steady yourself. fuck, taking my cum so well. you’re a good fucking girl for me. the best fucking girl for me..”

his once mean tone was now sweet and caring as he pressed a kiss to your sweaty temple. your eyes were shut and your chest was heaving heavily. “now, tell everyone who you belong to..”

“y-you. i-i belong to armin!”

“yeah, that’s right angel. you belong to me.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Once Upon a Time 10

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A message pops up on your Instagram. You open it with dread, a blank profile with some generic photo of a bookshelf. You already know it's him. 

‘Your aunt is very nice.’ 

You nearly drop your phone as you glance over at Jo. She sits with a cross stitch as she watches a rerun of Cold Case. You shudder and look back down at the screen. 

‘Why r u doing this?’ 

You hit the arrow as your sweaty hands stick to the silicon case. 

‘Why am I being nice?’ He replies. 

You can't. You stand up with your phone and your Aunt Jo peeks over with an arched brow. You give an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, I'll be right back.” 

You cross the room and pass the kitchen doorway. You lock yourself in the bathroom and look at your phone. You see three dots then they disappear. 

‘You followed me.’ 

He sends a rolling eye emoji. You nearly scream. What the hell? He's rolling his eyes at what? Stalking you? 

‘More than once.’ 

He sends a laughing emoji with tears. You huff. He's so confusing. Then a photo pops up, buffering before finally loading. 

It's Chelsea, well, the top of her head and she's… 

You want to puke. You can't believe he'd send you that. Does she know he took that? Even if she's a bitch, you feel bad. 

‘Looks like I'm all taken care of.’ He texts. 

‘Looks like you are.’ 

You turn your phone to do not disturb and lock it. He's disgusting. You don't even get what he wants from you. If he has Chelsea doing all that, why the heck is he texting you? 

You take your phone to the spare room, what was once your room, and leave it there. You don’t want to be bothered by him, even if you can’t shake the uneasiness stirring your nerves. You go back to the living room and sit down on the couch. You stare unseeingly at the television as the syndicated legal series drones on. 

“What was that, honey?” Jo asks, poking her needle up then pulling it through. 

“Work,” you lie, “um, they keep moving around the schedule or whatever. It’s... frustrating.” 

“Ah, that’s too bad,” she tug the thread to its limit, “you’re stressed. Maybe you should take a day off.” 

“Maybe,” you rub your forehead, “or get a different job.” 

“Could do,” she shrugs, “you know I’ll support whatever you do.” 

“Yeah,” you drop your hands into your lap and look at her, “I know.” 

You turn back to screen and try to hide your despair. Should you try to tell her about Andy? The thought’s crossed your mind a dozen times over. Your Aunt Jo is fierce and loving, she might just believe you but it’s not her holding you back. It’s him. He’s dangerous and he hasn’t yet shown you how dangerous. 

It’s better she doesn’t know. Not right now. You’ll have to deal with Andy. Just not tonight. 

📖

You grumble around the last mouthful of coffee. Another day, another shift. While Jo’s suggestion was tempting, you really can’t give up the hours. Nonetheless, you haven’t sat on your hands. Several applications were forward late into the night as sleep eluded you. Now you can barely hold your head up. 

It shouldn’t be very busy at opening. You can survive on an instant coffee packet from the breakroom. You yawn and grab your coat and bag. The snow puffs up around your boots as you step outside, shivering as you tuck your scarf into the top of your jacket. You pull your hood up against the frigid wind and tamp down the fresh powder as you come down the walk. 

As you get to the sidewalk, you stop and look both ways. Before you can cross and head for the bus stop, a horn honks, jarring you. You step back as a familiar car rolls up. You cross your arms, heart racing, and peek back over your shoulder at the safe hold of your aunt’s house. 

“Buses are behind,” Andy calls through the window as it slides down, “you’ll be late...” 

“I’m fine,” you sidestep to walk around the rear bumper and he shifts into reverse, blocking your escape. 

“I know your aunt didn’t teach you to be so ungrateful--” 

“Don’t talk about my aunt,” you snap as you turn back the other way and he rolls forward. You stop short and stomp your foot, “why are you doing this? Why are you bugging me? Chelsea--” 

“I don’t want Chelsea, she’s a slut. She’s easy. She gets the job done,” he sneers. 

You shake your head and blow out a cloud of warmth into the crisp air, “I’m sure there are other--” 

“You,” he says tersely, “that’s it. No one else.” 

You close your eyes and shudder, “I... I’m not interested... like that, Andy. I just was being friendly because it’s my job. Can’t you understand?” 

“I don’t understand,” he snarls, “I’m a lawyer, I’m good-looking, I take good care of myself and I could do the same for you. You wouldn’t have to work in some shitty bookstore.” 

You flutter your lashes and shake your head, “I...” 

“What? Why don’t you want me?” He leans over the seat further, glaring at you. 

“How old are you?” You blurt out, immediately sealing your lips in regret. 

He scoffs, “and how old are you? Bit over the hill to be in retail, huh? I know you’re not some college kid getting a few extra bucks. You’re a grown woman, your life is a mess. You need someone like me.” 

You huff, “I need you to leave me alone.” 

He clucks and sits up. The car idles in front of you as he sits silently. He grips the real and clears his throat, “I’ll be seeing you for dinner. Aunt Jo sure is sweet, maybe you could learn a thing or two from her.” 

The window rolls up before you can spit back a retort. The mention of your aunt flares in your chest. How dare he. You know it’s more than a snipe at you, he’s not saying her name for nothing. It’s a threat. 

He steers away down the snowy road, the snow packing beneath the weight of the car. You watch his headlights stop at the corner before you kick through the snow. Fuck. 

[awoowoodog]

THIS BLOG IS 18+ ONLY! AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Awruff! You can call me Lumi 🐶❄️ (pronouns: they/it/pup)

I'm a 25 year old Queer anarchist dogfur (Samoyed) from Canada🇨🇦! Unowned but have a few lovely partners/handlers/Alphas. I'm a service pup and a sub bottom with loads of kinky interests - you can find a list below :3

This is the horny/kink/furry posting alt to my main blog: @erraticleigh

WARNING: I will be posting and reblogging various edge kinks. I do not tag most of my posts so this is just a general caution. Do Not Follow if you don't want to see it!

Safety and consent are always top priority for real life play. I play with the RACK mindset where negotiating boundaries and getting informed consent is central, especially when it comes to edgeplay. Taking it seriously is important because the more serious you take it before the scene, the safer you are and the better the subspace.

For ease of reference I've included all useful tags under this post! See below for my kinks and limits 🐶

Here's a selection of some of my top kinks and hard limits:

Kinks!!! D/s, pup play, teasing/denial/chastity (locked up permanently :3), degradation/humiliation, hypnosis, masochism (impact play, pain play, CBT, wax, etc.), breath play, bondage (light and heavy), sensory depravation, CNC, light scent play (colognes and light musk), body worship, boot worship, and more I have yet to try or get interested in :3

LIMITS: Blood, anything to do with body waste (pee, poo, vomit), AB/DL, foodplay, piercing, fire play, smoke/cigar play, fauxcest, gunplay.

Things not listed are either things I haven't tried, haven't thought of, or the feeling is mixed - ask and I will tell uwu

[resowrites]

A Bird In The Hand - oneshot (request).

Summary: Henry’s girlfriend reaches breaking point when he informs her he has to go away yet again…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: angst, fluff, relationship difficulties/argument, language, pet names, nondescript OC body type/appearance, lightly proofread.

WC: 1548

A/N: My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

A Bird In The Hand - oneshot.

"So? Did you miss me then or not?" Henry smirked as she emptied his suitcase, deciding what needed to be either cleaned or packed away.

"Not." She refused to meet his eyes but he could see she was smiling.

"Yes you did, don't bloody fib."

"Nope, not even remotely." She zipped up the suitcase and went to slide it under the bed.

"Er, leave that out actually… I'll need it again in another week." Henry looked at her sheepishly, not wanting to have to drop that particular bomb so soon after he got back.

"What? Why?" He looked towards his feet, the disappointment in her eyes a bit too tough to bear.

"Look I'm really sorry. It isn't what I want either, but my agent in LA wants me to meet with a director next week… she thinks I've got a good chance of landing a lead role." Henry trailed off once he realised an invisible wall had gone up between them. She bit her lip slightly and then nodded her head, backing out of the room so she could finish sorting out. He chased after her. "Darling wait a minute, I can see you're upset, so let's talk about it." She spun around to face him once they both reached the bottom of the stairs.

"What's there to talk about Henry? You want to go to LA, so you're going to LA." His eyes narrowed as she walked toward the kitchen.

"Now wait a minute, I have to go darling… he wants to meet me in person. Otherwise, I may not get the role." Henry placed his hands on his hips, watching her ram a load of his clothes straight into the washing machine.

"I said I understand, I’m pleased for you darling. Now, what do you want for dinner? I was going to make lasagna but I'll make something else if you'd like?" He rubbed his forehead, keen not to make the situation any worse but at the same time, desperately wanting to fix it.

"Do you really understand though? Look, I've had some success but I have to go after the bigger and better projects… they don't just land in my lap. But that doesn't mean I don't love you or appreciate what we have any less. I always ask you to come with me but you usually opt to stay here. So what else am I meant to do?" She stared at Henry for several moments but ultimately decided not to respond. Instead, she started fetching the ingredients from out of the fridge.

"Dinner will be ready in about an hour if you want to go take a shower." He sighed and stepped up to the counter, gently taking the stuff from her hands.

"Darling we need to talk about this. What good is it pretending everything's okay when it's not?"

"Henry for the last fucking time, I don't have an issue with you leaving next week!" Henry crossed his arms, his own frustration now bubbling up.

"See? I want to try and fix this but you just snap at me. Let's be honest, shall we? You like playing the martyr, you don't even need to work as hard as you do. I have enough money for you to be able to step back a bit and spend more time with me, but no, you choose to stay here. It isn't me who's causing this situation - it's you." She wanted to scream. Instead, she calmly removed herself from the kitchen and raced upstairs, refusing to let him see the tears now blurring her vision. She slammed the bathroom door behind her, locking it so quickly that she almost caught her finger in it. But he didn't come after her, all she could hear was the front door slam and eventually the car backing out of the driveway. She fought back her tears, refusing to break down. Instead, she quickly undressed and hopped into the bath. The coldness of the enamel jolted her body and finally caused her to sob uncontrollably.

Henry returned about half an hour later though he didn't come up to try and find her straight away. She was still laying in the empty bath, her head aching and mind muddied by the whole situation. She didn't even hear him climbing up the stairs or knocking gently on the bathroom door. "Darling, are you alright? I'm sorry, okay? Come out and join me downstairs, I got us a takeaway." When she made no reply he started getting worried. "Darling just open this door so I can see you're alright? Then I'll leave you alone if that's what you want." She wanted to go to him, to talk and to try and make everything alright. She just didn't have the energy.

"I-I'm fine. Just leave me please." Her shaky voice frightened him and he began to wonder if they might not be able to get past what he'd said.

"Okay darling, I'll be up to check on you in a little while. Please try to come down for something to eat. Or I'll bring it upstairs if you prefer?" Again, she couldn't answer him. Henry sighed and leaned his head against the door.

After he'd finished eating alone he trudged back upstairs, hoping she'd either want something to eat or be curled up, fast asleep. Instead, he found her tucking her pillows under her arm while she searched for a blanket. "What are you doing darling? Come on, get to bed, we've both had a long day." She tried to get past him but was too tired to resist when he clasped her by the shoulders. "I'm not going another night without you sleeping next to me." She sighed and slumped onto the bed, her eyes closed even before her head hit the pillow. He stripped and took a quick shower, returning to find her almost asleep. He climbed into bed, gently pulling her towards him until his body was cupping her bottom and lower back. "Good girl…" He whispered as he kissed the still damp hair on the side of her head.

Henry was up before her the next morning and decided to cook a full breakfast. He didn't realise she was already sitting downstairs, scrolling through her phone, as he crossed the living room holding a large tray of food. "Ah, there she is. Good morning gorgeous girl. I was going to bring you up some breakfast. Here we are, we can eat together now." She mumbled back a good morning as he lowered the tray onto the coffee table and began pouring her some orange juice. "Do you want tea as well? Or coffee?" She chucked her phone aside and grabbed a slice of toast while she thumbed the tv remote.

"No thanks," He sighed. "What?" Her voice came out sharper than she intended.

"It's nothing darling, I just hoped that now things have calmed down a bit, we might be able to talk." She sighed, putting the toast back down and chugging back the orange juice instead.

"There's nothing to talk about." But Henry persisted.

"Yes, there is. Look, my trips away are as hard on me as they are on you. But I need to find a better balance because it's clear you don't think I prioritise you enough." She quickly cut in.

"Don't put words in my mouth Henry. I respect how important your job is to you and I've never expected or asked for more than what you do already." He looked down sadly.

"But you should expect more. It's normal to need me, to want me around more. All relationships take work and ones like ours even more so, but we can we do it, I know we can." She bit her lip, clearly choosing her next words carefully.

"Look, I chose this life and accept it because I love you. But I'm not sure I can sacrifice any more of myself..." Henry swallowed hard.

"Oh darling, I know you're scared and believe me… I am too. But I've promised to do more. I can't get out of going to LA next week and I understand if you can't come along this time. But will you come with me on the press tour? I've already told my agent I'll only be doing two weeks instead of four. If not, then how about I take you away for the two weeks after that? Sometimes we're just going to have to meet each other halfway." She sighed again, realising that given their different desires and personalities, this was the only way of making what they had work long term.

“Would it be okay if went away in this country though? You know how I hate getting on a plane.” He grinned broadly, by the time summer rolled around, he’d have no desire to step onto yet another plane either.

“Of course! What were you thinking? Peak district? What about Jersey? There’s still plenty I haven’t shown you there—” she leaned in and gave Henry a long kiss, wiping the bread crumbs out of his beard as she pulled back.

“I’ll leave it to your good judgement darling, just so long as we’ll be together… no camping though.” He chuckled and drew her in for another kiss.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

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[hispipsqueak]

Sweet Dreams

(Obey Me) Belphegor x F!Reader NSFW

Summary: Late night texts lead to a spicy adventure in the attic. Who said night time was for sleeping?

WC: 1.8K

TW: Hard Dom Belphie, humiliation, degradation, name-calling, pillow humping, facial, dacryphilia, spit, demon dick anatomy

A/N: Hello! Here’s some mean Belphie to flutter your hearts. I love dom Belphie and while I do think he can be a soft sweetie, I CLEARLY love me some mean boys. Hope you like it! As always, likes and reblogs are heckin’ appreciated!

3:42 A.M.

Your D.D.D buzzed, waking you up. Cracking an eye open, you opened the message, ready to curse Mammon out if he and Asmo were drunk texting you again.

“Hey.”

Typical Belphie. How do you even respond to that? You closed your eyes again. Maybe if he texted more than one word you would –

*BZZ*

“I know you’re awake, MC”

You rolled your eyes. 

“What’s up Belphie? It’s 3 AM by the way. You of all people should be asleep right now.”

His response was immediate.

“Can’t sleep. Come to the attic.”

Your bed was so warm and comfortable. And he wanted you to walk all the way to the attic? He really was insane.

Another text came in.

“Please?”

You groaned, pulling yourself away from the soft comforter and pillows. Normally, you would have just ignored him until he fell asleep but you were a sucker for soft Belphie, the side he rarely showed anyone but Beel and you. With Beel being out for a tournament, you knew he was probably struggling with being alone.

You silently crept to the attic, knowing the brothers would throw a fit if they knew you were sneaking into Belphie’s room at night.

You knocked quietly on the heavy attic door and Belphie opened it with a sleepy smirk. His navy hair was tousled and he looked so smug for getting you to come to his room in the middle of the night. Stupid handsome bastard.

“I’m here Belph. What do you want?”, you yawned. He tugged you in the room, locking the door behind you.

 You laid in his bed, pulling his cow print pillow to your chest as you tried to get comfortable, expecting him to curl up next to you to sleep. A few moments passed and you peeked over at him, still standing by the door staring at you.

You weren’t planning on seeing anyone in the middle of the night so you were just wearing a pair of tiny pink shorts and a tank top. You felt his eyes roaming over your skin, and you pulled the sheets around you.

“Don’t tell me you just brought me here because you’re horny.” You muttered, glaring at him. You weren’t opposed to hooking up but playing the soft, lonely demon card? 

He grinned, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“What if I did? You gonna complain about it, little human?” He murmured, moving so he was standing in front of you. You had to crane your neck to look in his eyes and you had a feeling he relished looking down on you like this. 

You couldn’t deny you were turned on. Belphie had a way of commanding the situation when you were alone and though he appeared to be the sarcastic sleepy brother, you knew behind closed doors he would have you on your knees, begging for him.

But, you were still kind of pissed at being woken up. So, you decided to tease him.

“Belphie, I’m sleeeeeepy. I came here to sleep.” You whined, making a show of turning around and cuddling his pillow. You knew your shorts were riding up on your thighs, hugging the curves of your ass and you wrapped your leg around the pillow.

“Better bite the pillow.” He said quickly before smacking your ass, HARD. You yelped, shoving the pillow over your mouth so as to not wake anyone.

“Belphie, what the fuck?!” You angrily whisper-shouted at him, as your body wiggled in an attempt to soothe the stinging pain. He laughed, and tugged you around so you were facing him.

“Keep acting like a brat. I can do this all night.” His amethyst eyes glinted sadistically. You pouted, but stayed quiet.

“You gonna behave?” He asked, tilting your chin so you looked up at him. Fuck, you looked so good like this. You were feisty and fiery, a general pain in the ass all the time, so knowing he could make you submit to him stroked his ego immensely. 

You nodded, still pouting and he chuckled.

“Open.”

Immediately, your mouth opened and he let a glob of spit fall from his mouth on your tongue. You opened your mouth to show him your tongue for approval. He gave a short nod and you swallowed.

“Good little human.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't keep from pressing your thighs together. As much as you wanted to pretend you were in control, you were playing a game with a literal demon. 

"I can smell your arousal. Fuck, I'm amazed my brothers haven't come up here since you're dripping like a whore. Just because I spit in your mouth?" Belphie taunted. Your eyes narrowed and you bit your lip, before looking away.

He gripped your hair, tugging it tightly. His eyes bore into your soul.

"You wanna act like a brat? I had plans to fuck you till you cried from pleasure. And yet, you seem to just want to be punished." 

He looked at the pillow that you had left tangled in his bedsheets, the pillow you had stretched your body over, taunting him. A wicked idea formed in his mind.

"You know what happens to brats like you?" He asked, yanking you to the floor. You looked up at him questioningly, a little scared but very turned on.

"Answer me, slutty human."

"N-no...I don't know." You said tentatively. He chuckled darkly.

"Naughty little brats don't get to cum on my cock. Fuck, naughty little brats may not get to cum at all."

You let out a whine, frustrated at this turn of events.

"You wanna cum? Get on your knees. Maybe if you do a good job, I'll take pity on your pathetic slutty pussy."

He pulled his cock out, slapping it against your cheek as he laughed. His cock was long and ridged, with a flared tip. Demon cocks, unlike human's, were made to fuck and breed, and you were spoiled having spent so long in the Devildom.

You parted your lips, as he slapped his member on your drooling tongue, before taking it deep into your mouth. His hands tangled in your hair as he fucked your face.

"Fuck, that's it slut. Take me down your throat. Just like that." 

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you forced more of him down. Your jaw already ached but you kept your mouth wide, struggling not to gag on his length as his heavy balls smacked your chin. You squeezed your legs together, hoping he would take pity on you.

"Poor little human, desperate to get off. You want to ride my cock?" He asked, pulling you off his cock harshly. Strings of saliva connected the two of you. You gasped, gulping air down as you nodded.

He grabbed the pillow from the bed and threw it at you.

"Too bad. Use this. Put on a good show, and maybe I’ll fuck you.”

Your face burned with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious.” You looked up at him. He moved his face right in front of yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he squeezed your face, so tightly it hurt.

“Wanna find out?”

He let go of your cheeks and shoved you back to the floor. Your eyes watered with embarrassment, shame, and yet you were so fucking turned on, you knew you would be leaving a wet patch on his pillow.

You straddled the body pillow and the slight friction of the pillow against your cunt made you whimper. You squeezed the pillow tightly between your thighs, slowly riding it, pathetic mewls falling from your mouth. You closed your eyes, trying to pretend you were in your room and not being scrutinized by the sadistic seventh-born.

“Eyes on me whore. And don’t you dare think about cumming without permission.” He smirked. You looked up at him as tears spilled down your cheeks. You wanted so badly to grind yourself on the pillow until you creamed all over it but you knew he would find more humiliating ways to torment you if you dared.

“Take off your shirt. Don’t know why the fuck you’re wearing it anyway. You’re just a fucktoy for me to use. Isn’t that right, little human?” He laughed as he sat back in a chair, watching you perform for him. He slowly palmed his cock as you pulled off your tank top, the cold air causing your nipples to harden.

“Pinch them, show me how much of a slut you are. Show me why I should even bother with you.” His hand tightened on his cock.

You wrapped your legs around the pillow tighter to hold it in just the right spot as you tugged and pinched at your breasts. Your soft moans filled the room and you knew you couldn’t last much longer like this.

“Please Belphie, c-can’t hold it in...please fuck me.” You sobbed out, your muscles tensing as you rubbed your clit against the black and white fabric. You could feel the wetness of the pillow against your thighs and knowing that your slick would be embedded in it turned you on even more.

“You can beg better than that, can’t you slut?” Belphie chuckled again, but you could see his grip tightened around the base of his cock and he was jerking himself off faster. 

“Fuck...please, please let me cum. Want to cum for you, want to be your slutty fucktoy. Wanna be good for you.” You cried, biting your lip so hard you could taste blood.

“Cum.” he panted out.

Your eyes rolled back as you gushed around the soaking pillow. Your legs were squeezing it so tightly you knew you would be sore tomorrow, and you drooled out a mixture of curses and Belphie’s name as you came down from your high.

Suddenly Belphie let out a low groan and your face was hit with an explosion of warm, sticky cum. You slammed your eyes shut as he pumped load after load onto your skin. His seed spilled down your chin and dripped over your breasts.

‘Fuck, fuck MC. Fuck, I’m sorry!” Belphie breathed out, half laughing while attempting to catch his breath. You leaned back on the bed, trying to avoid getting it in your eye.

“You’re such an ass Belphie.” You whined, pouting as he cleaned you up with a towel.

After cleaning up, the two of you lay back in the bed, his head nuzzled into your chest. You ran your fingers through his dark hair humming softly.

“Hey MC.” He whispered.

“Hey yourself.” You whispered back.

The room was silent and you thought he fell asleep finally. You closed your eyes. Finally, his voice broke the calm silence.

“My pillow is gonna smell like you FOREVER.”

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Ocean Eyes - Part 13

A/N - OMG finally an update!!! I'm so sorry it has taken me so long but writers block is a bitch! Thank you all for sticking with me and being so patient 💕💕💕 Please like/comment/reblog.

"CHRIS EVANS HAS A SECRET FAMILY!"

Shit, shit. Shit! Oh my fuck this can't be happening!! I thought to myself as i clicked on the link Hannah had sent me, the page loaded showing photo's of Chris and I kissing, photo's of Chris and Mason...... my heart was racing and i could feel the panic setting in.

"Fucking Brian!" I mumbled, this was taken the day i saw his car outfront! I got up and made my way to Chris' office, i needed to let him know about this ASAP incase he was suddenly blind sided with a question while doing his interview.

As soon as i appeared in the doorway Chris looked up and gave me a little smile that soon fell when he saw the tears in my eyes.

"Im so sorry but can you just excuse me for two seconds..... i'll be right back" Chris said leaving Scott talking to Jimmy Fallon.

"Whats wrong?....." he asked quietly pulling the door closed behind him.

"Im so sorry Chris....." i shook my head.

"Why? Whats happened?...."

I passed him my phone showing him the headline and photo's "Everyone knows, I'm so sorry! This is all my fault...." i started to cry, this isn't how i wanted everyone to find out... we weren't ready for everyone to know yet!!

"Hey stop! This isn't your fault sweetheart!" Chris wrapped his arms around me "come on don't cry, i hate it when you cry".

"Im so mad Chris!...they have no right posting photo's of Mason!"

"Let me just go finish up this interview, i'll be two minutes" he kissed me before rushing back to finish up with Jimmy.

After Chris had finished up his interview he was calling his publicist Megan, he already had missed calls from her so she had obviously heard what was going on. An hour later she was sat on the sofa across from us listening to the whole story.

"I want those photo's of my son taken down now! They can't post photo's of my 6 year old for everyone to see!" Chris was yelling as he paced the room.

"I've already put in a call and told them to take it down, but you know its gonna be out there now....you can't hide from this Chris"

"I know but.... fuck! We didn't want Mason in the public eye..... he's just a kid!"

"I get it, they should have at least blurred his face in the shots, most tabloids do nowadays unless the parents give consent but this particular tabloid that published the story, they're not one of the big names so they're more interested in their 5 minutes of fame with this exclusive"

"Brian did this. He did it to hurt me, its not even about the money! He could've sold the story to one of the big tabloids and got a payout..." i shook my head "the guy is crazy! I wasn't even dating him!"

"We're gonna try and do something about him too, leave it with me" Megan gave me a small smile while writing something in her notebook "So, you should probably post something on your socials.... clear up the gossip. Usually id say don't react to this but we need to do some damage control because right now, i guarantee all people are thinking is either you've been an absentee father with no interest in your son for the past six years" she said looking to Chris "or you'll be public enemy number one for keeping Chris's son from him" she looked over to me and i lowered my head in shame, i had done that..... i had my reasons but i did it all the same.

"So what do we say?" I asked quietly as Chris came and sat beside me taking my hand.

"We say that even though the two of you haven't been together romantically up until now, you have been raising your son together but chose to keep him out of the public eye"

"I'll put something together for you to look over, make sure you think its okay" Chris told her.

"I know this isn't great but we can handle this"

"Thank you Megan".

Over the next couple of days things gradually calmed down, Chris had posted a simple statement which i was told to post too even though my accounts were private to friends only, he didn't go into much detail but confirmed that we do have a son together and asked for our privacy to be respected.

His fans had actually been amazing and so supportive, of course there were a few saying some not so nice things about me and Mason but we knew that would happen. The tabloid stories quickly disappeared regarding Mason when other celebrities started posting, calling the tabloids out for not respecting our privacy after we had made it clear we didn't want our son in the spotlight.

But i still had this constant pit in my stomach, a feeling that things would still get worse before they went back to normal.

I was currently laid on the bed next to a basket of laundry that needed folding and putting away, I had retreated upstairs with the excuse of doing laundry while Chris, Scott and Mason were out back playing some game. The truth was i just needed some alone time, i was tired of putting on a brave and happy face, pretending like everything was fine. My hands massaged my temples trying to shift the dull headache that seemed like a constant thing lately.

"Hey, you okay?" The sound of Chris's voice from the door way made me crack open an eye to look at him.

"Yeah, headache is all"

"You've been up here a while, i got worried"

"I was doing laundry i told you....."

"You mean the laundry still sitting next to you?" He teased with a raised eyebrow.

"Yep, i started then i got a headache. I just need a few minutes" i said quietly closing my eyes again.

"Sweetheart you know you can talk to me, you don't have to act like everything is fine....."

"Yes i do, if i don't I'm gonna loose it and i can't do that with Mason around".

I felt the bottom of the bed dip and opened my eyes to see Chris crawling up the bed towards me, he moved my legs so his upper body was resting between them as he pressed kisses to my T-shirt covered stomach.

"What are you doing?" I shook my head and chuckled at the playful look he had on his face.

"Trying to cheer you up, maybe help you forget for a while" he smirked pushing my T-shirt up more so he could kiss my bare skin this time.

"Is now really the time for that? Mason is awake downstairs...."

"Its the perfect time for that, Scott will keep Mason busy"

"You dont know that....."

Chris quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped quickly on the screen before tossing it aside.

"Done, no distractions" he laughed.

"Oh god please don't tell me you told Scott why?"

"Of course not but he's not stupid"

"This is a bad idea..... we said slow...."

"This is slow, i just wanna make you feel better. Plus you know orgasm's are supposed to help with headaches" he shrugged with that cocky grin.

"Oh really? Is that right?"

"100%" he nodded making us both laugh, he reached for my shorts and starting to pull the them down my legs...

"Wait!" I said suddenly sitting up to look at him making him groan as he looked back at me from between my legs.

"What?"

"Lock the door would ya?" I giggled throwing myself back down on the bed shaking my head as he leapt from the bed and flipped the lock.

"Now where were we?" He said before crawling back into position.....this was a bad idea.

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[penwieldingdreamer]

Dante's Prayer - Chapter 1

Thank you all for your likes and reblogs. I'm really happy you liked it. Now on with the next part. Let me know what you think about it and if you want to be tagged. As always thank you @fortheloveoffanfic for being my beta.

Warnings: Mentions of war, mentions of sex, period-typical sexism, canon-typical violence

Words: 1304

Chapter 1

Arrow House, Warwickshire, 1924

"Tommy, you need to consider remarrying." Aunt Polly told him, bouncing Charlie on her knee as she watched her nephew pace behind his desk. "There have been rumors goin' round."

Taking a deep breath, the leader of the Peaky Blinders turned to the older woman. "What would you have me do, Poll, ey? Take the next best woman that's out on the streets?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Tommy. You need someone with good connections and money." she told him, hoisting the boy into her arms and coming to stand next to Tommy. “She has to accept that you’ve been married before, that there’s a child. Even though we’re rich now, doesn’t mean that all women of the world will fall over for Thomas Shelby.”

Snorting, the second eldest Shelby grinned at his aunt, although the smile wouldn’t reach his eyes. Not since Grace had been shot because of him. “As you just so nicely reminded us, we don’ need the fuckin’ money, the Shelby’s are already fuckin’ rich. What are you gonna do? Arrange a marriage, just like John and Esme?”

“Stop the cursin’, will you. There’s a small child here.” Shrugging her shoulders, Polly regarded him with a stern look he just knew all too well. “I talked to Johnny Dogs, he knows a family in Ireland. Lots of connections, loads of old money.”

“No, Poll.” he shook his head, opening the silver case to grab another cigarette, hoping to calm his nerves from the nagging of his aunt. “I’m not goin’ ta bring anyone new into this family. There’s enough people to take care of as it is. Who’s to say that family doesn’t have ties to our enemies?”

Smoothing out Charlie’s dark blond hair, Polly Grace shook her head. “Stubborn as a mule, that one.” she muttered to the boy, the corners of her lips moving up into a smile as she heard the two-year old laugh at her. “Even John wasn’t bitchin’ so much. I know why you won’t do it, Thomas, but you need to see reason. Your boy needs a mother and you, you need someone to warm that heart of yours, even if ye don’ believe me. Be ready in a week, Johnny will take you to see your future wife.”

Grunting, Thomas Shelby watched his aunt leave the study, his son perched on her hip. Grace had only been gone a few weeks - or had it really been months? - and yet his family was forcing him to marry some spoiled high society girl, whose only problem would be the perfect temperature of her tea. Letting out a defeated sigh, the leader of the Peaky Blinders sank into the plush sofa Polly had occupied minutes before and looked at the portrait of his late wife. “What am I goin’ to do without you, eh? You shouldna have been involved in my fuckin’ mess, Grace."

Of course there was no answer from her, the smile on her lips stayed forever frozen. Dropping his head into his hands, he breathed in the air filled with tobacco and whiskey, trying to keep every detail of his love in his heart, never to forget her.

Dublin, Ireland 1924

"Edward, when will you tell our daughter that it's not ladylike to run around with a horse like that?" Helene McCann, Duchess of Leinster and Baroness of Kildare, admonished her husband entering the large sunroom of their country home Castletown House.

Sitting at the table with his other two daughters Amalie and Louise, he read the newspaper and only hummed. "What would you have me do, hm? Send her to her rooms and lock the doors?" Andrew, Duke of Leinster folded the papers and leaned back to watch his wife with an amused smile on his lips. "She is just as free spirited as you, my darling."

"Oh no, I'm definitely blaming you on that one. Saoirse has done everything to avoid being a proper lady, no thanks to you, love." she countered, sipping her tea and giving her husband an angry look. “You know that Mr. Shelby will arrive today and I want her to be presentable.”

Shaking his head, Andrew grabbed his pipe and lit the tobacco. "Saoirse is just like your mother's cousin has been. She was a free spirit, too, a friend of nature and I know you often went to visit her. I do believe Mister Shelby will be very lucky to marry her and you know that as well."

Sighing, the mother of three leaned back in her seat and turned her gaze on the gardens, hoping that her youngest daughter would at least be fine while out there riding through the forest behind their home.

Hooves beat against the cold ground, harsh pants of the horse sounded in the silence of the woods as it raced through the trees, nostrils flared and kept its attention on the sounds around him.

“Socair.” Saoirse spoke softly, guiding her stallion through the thick undergrowth. “Calm, my love.”

Since her mother had told her about the arranged marriage, the youngest of three daughters left to find solace with her animals. Her dappled grey White Knight brought her to the flower field she had found a few months earlier. “Good boy, we’re going to stay here and enjoy the sun before those men come.”

With a snort, the stallion stopped and Saoirse jumped from the saddle, taking the bridle off of him. She took a deep breath and brushed her hand over the speckled coat of the horse. “I can’t believe father agreed to that marriage mother arranged.”

There had never been time in her life that she wished more than ever to not be a descendant from royalty than now. Arrangements had been made with Thomas Shelby, leader of a gang in Birmingham. Her mother had told Saoirse that in a few months she'd be his wife and make sure that their connections would help him further his business and standing in politics.

Leaning against his neck, the young woman closed her eyes. "What should I do, huh? I don't want to be a wife being kept in a house as a broodmare. I just, I want freedom."

Both, rider and horse snapped to attention when a twig broke behind them in the woods. "Who's there?" she called, her eyes flitting through the green leaves of the trees.

"It's just I, princess." the man reasoned, his accent thick as he spoke. Moving through the underbrush, Saoirse could see the kind eyes of Johnny Dogs he only reserved for her. "I knew I might find ye out 'ere."

Smiling, she moved in for a tight hug. "Oh, how I missed you, Johnny. It has been boring ever since you left."

"Oh I know," the Irish mused with a smile. "I bet yer mum has had you reciting poetry and embroidery."

Rolling her eyes, Saoirse lightly hit his shoulder. "Don't remind me. I'm not as much the lady she wants me to be. But now, why are you here? Don't tell me he's here already."

"I'm afraid he's 'ere." Johnny sighed, seeing the defeated look darken her eyes. He had known her since she was a little girl, having worked for the Duke in his stables and taught her everything about horses and riding that he knew. "Please Saoirse, it's not as bad as ye make it out to be."

Exasperated, she turned away from her friend, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm losing my freedom to be a gangster's wife so he can further his business while I'll have to sit in his manor and play the lady of the house, greeting guests and giving him children to make him seem good."

"Just give Thomas a chance, once in a while people will surprise you." Johnny tried to reason with her.

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