#like i knew she had gone all christian and everything but damn

[evita-shelby]

Ava

aka the what if Eva had a blonde evil twin?

cw: magic, demons, murder, some violence, Christianity

thanks @zablife for the idea

evacore taglist: @justrainandcoffee @thegreatdragonfruta @peakyswritings @vivianleighwishesshewasme

Once upon a time in a land far away ---in a mental state about two or three more drinks away from the sweet release of death--- Eva had not only gone blonde but fucked around with magic with equally high and drunk magical people and set loose her own reflection.

Ave, or better known by her new name, Ava Smith.

A demon of sorts who had taken the appearance of how Eva had looked when she said the words and produced her mirror image. No freckles, picture perfect looks and…a natural blonde.

Her twin.

And now Ava was here.

“Hello, sister.” She smiled with her dark pink lips dressed in, God help them, pastels.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a sister?” her husband asks observing her caution in welcoming the blonde woman who arrived at Arrow House’s front door.

“I don’t.”

They were the same person, even if Ava was merely the meatsuit of a demon or ghost, she can’t remember. The witch supposed this was why that thing was here instead in the ruins of the old temple they lured her in to kill her.

She explains as best as she can to her husband and his aunt who at least do believe in her magical abilities and all pretend Ava is truly her twin sister who is Eva’s complete opposite. So far so good. Only Polly knows she tried and failed to kill the demon, and only because she guessed correctly.

“You have a beautiful family.” Ava looks at it all with an ulterior motive and settled her greedy eyes on the family portrait. “I could’ve had one if you hadn’t treated me so badly.”

So this was it. Ava was here for revenge.

“Leave and I won’t try again.” The witch warns the demon eying everything Eva and Tommy built with their own hands.

“Oh, silly, you can’t kill an immortal.” The blonde laughed it off. “I’ll be out of your hair soon, don’t worry.”

It goes on for weeks, she doesn’t stay with her and stays in the hotel they have completely under their control. Ava lives like a lady of leisure does, fucks who she wants, shops till she drops and comes to visit like a sibling would.

Eva is not stupid enough to trust her, any second the demon would bare her fangs and they’ll be back at where they had ended in Mexico.

This time Eva will make sure she is truly dead.

And yet, Eva wakes up in a paralyzed body dressed in the same pink outfit the demon had worn at dinner and reeking of peroxide.

“When you try to kill me, make sure you finish the job, Evita.” The demon coos at her as she has the orderlies set her up in a guest room at Arrow House.

So this was what she was after, just like then, Ava wanted Eva’s life.

Ava who plays the part well, after all they were more or less the same person, and fools everyone into believing she is Eva.

“And the best part, Tommy doesn’t even suspect a damn thing.” Ava laughs as she reapplied her pink lipstick. “You have terrible style, so little color in your wardrobe. Even your lingerie is black.”

Days turn to weeks and only when Tommy and Polly finally come to visit her ---for the demon denied visits to keep her ruse going. Tommy is frantic, wearing a rosary when the man would rather set himself on fire than wear a crucifix.

It is hell, if she could talk Eva would scream, if she could move, she would kill the fucking demon with her bare hands. Her life she didn’t give a shit, her husband and child hurt like hell, but her style? That was unforgivable.

Polly carefully did all that a Welsh relative had instructed her to do and her first act is to slap her husband for falling for the demon’s bullshit. They had to have fucked, Tommy has the soul of a whore and cannot last much without sating his carnal desires.

“I didn’t fuck her! I knew she wasn’t you.” Tommy held his cheek and winced.

 “How?” Eva asks with a voice rusty from almost a month stuck inside her own mind.

“You never wear pink and even Alfie could probably smell the hair dye all the way in London.”  Her husband answered and Eva was rather touched that he knew she had been replaced. He took his sweet time rescuing her, but at least Eva knows he has not gotten his soul stolen through his cock.

“He knows you so well, I couldn’t piece it together until her roots began to show, thought he’d lost his fucking mind.” Polly chuckles as they help her out of the frilly pink nightgown and into Eva’s wonderful black outfit. “But don’t worry, sweetheart, Aunt Polly will be there to make sure we send it back to hell. Charlie is at Arthur’s, who knew Linda’s religion would be useful to us for once.”

“I need a gun.” Eva’s request surprised them, she has never liked the things, the sound alone took her back to the revolution that took everything from her and birthed the selfish and horrid creature they need to kill.

But close combat isn’t what she wants to do again, she barely survived the first time and wouldn’t the second time.

Tommy hesitates but gives her his gun. And with that, they set out to ambush the demon about to return home any second.

“I am home!” Ava greets the household with a smile, a garish pink dress and a fresh retouch to hide her blonde roots only to be greeted by Eva emptying all six rounds of Tommy’s revolver into her pretty head.

Gross and loud, but extremely necessary.

“Oh, that explains how she managed to make a good husband out of you.” Polly comments as Eva for good measure kicks the demon to make sure she is as dead as they need her to be.

“I didn’t even know she could do that.” Tommy admits as they help her get rid of the body by carefully wrapping her in the rug Ava died in.

They are to burn it, to have a priest say the incantations ---no need for a catholic one, so long as they were Christian it worked well enough--- and never speak of this again.

If suddenly all the new pastel-colored things were returned or destroyed by the mistress of the house, no one dared to ask why. It was not out of place for Mrs. Shelby to do something that odd, odd had been seeing her parade around in pink, if you asked all who knew her.

“Can you believe her? She said I had shitty style!” Eva tells her husband who after a month of abstinence was feeling like he too would die a horrible death in the foyer. He had learned a lesson, one that will stick around and resurface whenever a person looks at him with desire or sees the rosary his witch bound his wrists with for some of their usual games. “All else I can forgive, but that was the cruelest thing anyone has ever done to me!”

[mrsmiagreer]

SUMMIT THOUGHTS IN ORDER BY SCENE!!

“Hold still i’ll grab you one of mine” UGHHHH

“What do you think babe? How’s my hair?” EVEN MORE UGHHHHH😩😩😩

Yes Milo I AM laughing 😂

————————————————————————-

Vincent cut himself off, i wanna know what he wants to say :’(

“She sounded— nevermind”

HE GOT US A CROWN HES SO SWEET

wouldnt it be cool if this was like… the way of Royal Vampiric Engagement?

Vincent sounds so cute when he’s nervous 🥺

————————————————————————-

Sam’s loud ass truck rolling up lmao

ICECREAM!!!!

I just know Sam slicked his hair back into the tightest ponytail. His formal look HAS to be super cute

————————————————————————-

Porterrrrr!!

“Your human” LMAO

The thoughts about seating were actually really sweet

Porter now wtf are you talking about?

Vincent’s irritation is so warranted right now 💀

He’s up to something fs

“Bye now—” AND HES JUST GONE??!!

————————————————————————-

“Hey Bud!” Awe Ash we love you

Vincent sounds like he memorized this shit😂

Eccentric he says🤨

“Blink twice if you need a way out buddy” WE LOVE YOU EVEN MORE NOW ASH

“What😟😃” VINCENT LMAOO

————————————————————————-

Bennet you meanies >:(

Alexander and Christopher count your fucking days

A bit formal?? This is a SUMMIT?!

Take a breath BOY?!

Stfu both of yous

“Where’s Alexis?” Anything to get YOU out of my face 😒

————————————————————————-

HERE WE GO

“SAMS LATEST CONQUEST” ouuuu bitch—

she’s so snarky and condescending everything she says means something underneath but she sounds so sweet its annoying

Honestly if i was tank i would think about her words all night and for a few more days after that she dug deep fr and was actually making sense

Yeah okay darlin’ calm it down, don’t wanna get my head snapped off in front of 3810 year old vamps🤨

“Pettiness isn’t childish at all” 😒

You turned him because you wanted him but we don’t all get what we want huh?

“I FIXED HIM” GIRL LMFAOOOO

“I don’t like you, and I’m not going to” first of all, i’m so glad the feeling is mutual and secondly, this is my new favorite quote. I might not like Alexis but she ate with that one

PORTER TO THE RESCUE! but why?

“Oh darling as if i have a gag reflex” UGHHH😩

Sam to the rescue??

“What the fuck did she say??” “Where is she??”

I love the fact that it when tank ran away you can hear their footsteps. Since my Darlin’ is a girl, it sounds like she wore Combat Boots to the summit😭

————————————————————————-

Random message for David?

The music in the back is fucking hilarious

Quinn is coming back?? Yall knew it

William a bad person?? He’s a little shady but i think he has good intent honestly

Why does he lowkey sound like Christian’s VA?

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“Don’t EVER speak to them again. Do you hear me???” Samuel don’t get me started🫦

“But playing is what I do best🥰🤭” she kinda ate with that one too

The fact that he even had to say anything along the lines of “if you care about me even a little you would do this for me” like If i was Tank i would cry because she agreed so fast😭 Like i know yall had something but like damn she still loves you?

Loser ass response 😒

————————————————————————-

MILO’s BACK

Awee Asher stumbling over his words

Why is Porter in everyone’s business 😭

Milo’s protective tone when he talks to Porter is tickling my insides🤭🤭

Closeknit??! Awe here we go😟

Porter is so suspicious right now…

“Hold the fuck up” MILOOOO😩😩😩😩😍😍😍😍

“Wait what’d you do that night?—” THEY DIDN’T TELL ASHER IT’S BEEN LIKE A YEAR AND MORE LMAO

Asher still being scared of making big decisions🥺

“Babe…” 😫😫🫶🏽🫶🏽

————————————————————————-

Tank being worried that Alexis threatened him is so real

“She was exactly who she appeared to be, i was the one trying to pretend i didn’t have a problem with that” REALLLLLLL

I don’t give a damn about her beat up heart

“I don’t want you to think that i felt like you needed saving” Honestly i appreciate this line because i hate the way it feels for someone to step in for you

“Maybe I wanted a chance of my own to tell the bitch to shove it if i’m being honest” 🤷🏽‍♀️😅🥳

————————————————————————-

knock knock

oouuuuu Asher’s telling David

Asher sounds in trouble 😭 David sounds like somebody daddy fr fr

the eye contact 😭😭

————————————————————————-

Ain’t this Loveboldly? All i hear is Crux😂

Funding?! ALL OF THIS FOR SOME MONEY

“Lower. Your. Voice. ” 💀💀

Alexander is so mean to his prince😭

“You’re showing your age Christopher. Or lack thereof” Damn he snapped him up

NOISE?!

————————————————————————-

“We’re about to have a fight. Be convincing” Uhh okay???

What the fuck is going awnnnn?!

Getting Vincent riled up for god knows what in insane💀

Glad he didn’t bring Treasure 😭

SAM TO THE RESCUE… ish?

“Consider yourself crossed”😲😲😲😲

“He’s dead” 🤨🤨😟😟 ALEXIS WHAT??? HOW’D SHE KNOW?!

[timeless-fanfic]

Destined Paths, Chapter 1: The Prologue

Word Count: 1591

Andrew x Reader

I stood by my father’s grave, staring at the headstone with his name etched into the cold stone. The preacher’s words about God’s mercy and eternal life still echoed in my ears, but they felt hollow. I’d heard it all before—God’s plan, God’s love, God’s grace. But what good were those things when I was left here, fatherless, with nothing but a void where my heart used to be? My hand tightened around my mother’s, but I barely felt the connection. I was numb, an emptiness inside that nothing could fill.

I had grown up resentful, spiteful even. On the surface, I was the ideal child—polite, obedient, diligent. But inside, anger festered, simmering beneath the surface. I was envious of others, bitter about the life I’d been handed, and disillusioned with the God everyone around me seemed to revere. As I became an adult, I perfected my mask. On paper, I was a model Christian, but in truth, every prayer I uttered felt as empty as the space inside me.

The beeping of the monitor was steady, almost hypnotic. I focused on the rhythm as I carefully made the incision, the scalpel in my hand as precise as ever. This was routine—a simple surgery, one I’d performed countless times before. There was nothing unusual about it, no complications expected. The young girl on the table was only nine, and her family had been so relieved when I’d assured them it was a straightforward procedure.

But then, in an instant, everything went wrong.

The monitor’s beeping became erratic, the rhythm faltering. My heart skipped a beat as I looked up to see her heart rate plummeting. “She’s crashing!” a nurse shouted, and the room erupted into controlled chaos. My hands moved on autopilot, performing the necessary actions to stabilize her. But it was as if the very air around us had thickened, resisting every attempt to bring her back.

“No, no, no…” I whispered under my breath, trying desperately to maintain control. We did everything we could—CPR, epinephrine, defibrillation—but nothing worked. I felt like I was trying to grasp water, the situation slipping through my fingers despite my best efforts.

And then, just like that, the monitor flatlined. The room fell silent, the only sound the droning flatline that signaled the end. The girl was gone.

For a moment, I just stood there, frozen. This surgery should have been flawless. It was supposed to be easy, something I could almost do in my sleep. And yet, here she was—dead. A young life snuffed out on my operating table, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

Finally, I stepped back, my hands trembling as I removed my gloves. The weight of failure pressed down on me like a physical force. I muttered a few words to the team, though I couldn’t even remember what I said. I just knew I needed to get out of there, away from the lifeless body that should have been a simple success story.

I didn’t know how long I walked before I found myself in front of a bar. It was a place I knew well, a refuge on nights when the emptiness felt too much to bear. Tonight, though, the feeling was different. It wasn’t just emptiness—it was defeat. The kind of defeat that seeped into my bones and made me wonder if all the years I’d spent building this life were worth anything at all.

I was about to push the door open when I heard it. Church bells. Loud and clear, ringing from down the street. They were strange—out of place at this hour—but they cut through the fog in my mind like a knife. Something about the sound called to me, tugging at a part of me I hadn’t acknowledged in years. Against my better judgment, I turned and started walking towards the sound.

The church was old, the kind that had probably been standing for a century or more. The doors creaked as I pushed them open, revealing an empty, dimly lit interior. The smell of old wood and incense filled the air, a stark contrast to the antiseptic scent of the operating room. I hadn’t stepped inside a church in years, not for anything other than a wedding or a funeral. But tonight, something had drawn me here, and I couldn’t walk away.

I sat down in a pew near the back, my head bowed as I tried to make sense of what had happened today. How had something so routine turned into a tragedy? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. The more I tried to think, the more my thoughts spiraled into confusion and despair.

“Are you alright?” The voice was gentle, coming from beside me. I looked up to see a priest, his kind eyes studying me with concern. He had probably been drawn by the sound of the door or maybe the look on my face. I hadn’t noticed him approach.

“I’m not Catholic,” I said automatically, my voice rough from hours of silence.

He smiled, a small, understanding smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “God didn’t call you here to debate Protestantism.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard by the unexpected response. “God… didn’t call me here at all,” I muttered, though the words felt hollow even as I said them.

He sat down beside me, close but not too close, giving me space. “Would you like to tell me what brought you here tonight?”

I hesitated, my gaze dropping to the floor. I could still hear the flatline in my head, see the lifeless body of that little girl on my operating table. “I lost a patient today. A young girl. It should have been a routine surgery. I don’t understand how it went wrong. I did everything right.”

The priest didn’t say anything at first. He just sat there, listening, giving me the time and space to speak. Finally, when I couldn’t hold back anymore, I let the words spill out. “I’m supposed to be the best. I’ve dedicated my life to helping people, to saving lives. But today… I failed. And I don’t know why. I don’t know how to make sense of it.”

“Sometimes,” the priest began softly, “we do everything right, and things still go wrong. It’s one of the hardest truths we have to accept in life—that we are not always in control, no matter how much we might want to be.”

His words cut deep, striking at the core of the frustration and despair I felt. “So what then? Are we just supposed to accept that some things are out of our hands? That no matter how hard we try, it might not be enough?”

He nodded, his expression somber. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean we stop trying, or that our efforts are meaningless. It just means we have to find peace with the fact that we are human, and our power is limited.”

I stared at the empty altar, the candles flickering softly in the distance. Peace? How was I supposed to find peace when a child had died because of me?

“You’re carrying a heavy burden,” the priest said quietly. “But you don’t have to carry it alone.”

I almost laughed at that, a bitter sound. “What, am I supposed to give it to God? Because honestly, I don’t think He’s been paying much attention to me.”

The priest didn’t flinch at my sarcasm. “Maybe you haven’t been paying attention to Him, either.”

I looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes that I hadn’t seen in a long time—compassion, understanding, without judgment. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice softer, almost afraid of the answer.

“Sometimes, we build walls around our hearts to protect ourselves from pain, from disappointment. But those walls also keep out the things that can heal us—love, grace, faith. Maybe God has been reaching out to you, but you’ve been too guarded to notice.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Part of me wanted to dismiss it as wishful thinking, but another part—the part that had brought me into this church in the first place—wondered if there was truth in his words.

Before I could respond, the priest stood up, his robes rustling softly in the silence. “This church is always open,” he said gently. “You’re welcome here anytime, whether you want to talk or just sit in silence. God is patient, and so am I.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the quiet sanctuary. I sat there for a long time, the weight of the day pressing down on me, the priest’s words echoing in my mind.

When I finally stood to leave, I felt different—still defeated, still burdened, but with a faint flicker of something I hadn’t felt in years. Maybe it was hope, or maybe it was just the beginning of a new kind of search.

I didn’t know where this path would lead me, but as I stepped out of the church and into the night, I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t going to find the answers in a bottle of whiskey.

No, whatever I was looking for, it was something far deeper, something that had brought me to a place I never expected to be. And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly where I needed to start.

[moondust-imagines]

Ink Pt.3 (Christian Cage x Reader)

Part One Here

Part Two here

This is so short I’m sorrrry

“Why can’t you just be happy for me Christian?! This is huge for me, for my career!” You shouted exasperatedly. You could see him biting his tongue, mulling over how to respond to you.

When you told him you were finally getting a ladder match for the women’s title, you thought he was going to be ecstatic. You thought you’d spend the rest of the night together going over what you wanted to do in the match. But here you were, mid screaming match, because he didn’t want you to do it.

“It’s the match I’m known for y/n! I know how dangerous they are, I don’t want you to get hurt!” He replied loudly. You laughed humorously, your frustration rising even more.

“Dangerous?! I’m a god damn professional, I don’t need you to decide for me what’s too dangerous!” You screamed

“Take it from a real professional sweetheart, your going to get yourself hurt” He spat. You tried to hide the hurt in your eyes but the tears started falling regardless. He silently watched you for a minute, quickly regretting his words but too proud to take them back.

“Go fuck yourself ” You scoffed storming out of the room.

You hadn’t seen him for a very long time after that spat. His stuff had quickly and quietly disappeared from your home. His key was left on the kitchen table. He all but vanished out of your life for the next few years. He wasn’t even there for the match you were arguing about, when you got the back injury that ended your career. Just like he said it would.

-

Christian still thinks about your last match sometimes. He had watched from backstage with his heart in his throat as you fell awkwardly off that ladder. It felt like his whole body was on fire when you didn’t move but he couldn’t make himself go to you. A part of him was screaming at him to follow your stretcher, to make everything right between you. But he couldn’t. His cynical mind knew that he was right, he told you this would happen. So he watched from a far as Adam accompanied you to the hospital where you found out your career was over.

-

AEW Collision 2024

You weren’t intentionally watching Nick from down the hallway. He was struggling to tie his tie with no success. Mother Wayne was no where to be seen, neither was his new ‘father’. As he angrily pulled it apart again, you finally took pity on him.

“Here, let me help” You said gently. He gawked at you for a second like he hadn’t even realised you were there before dropping his hands to his sides.

You quietly tied it for him and smoothed it against his chest. The suit and tie look seemed a little out of his comfort zone. You imagined it was one of Christian’s ideas.

“Thanks. I don’t really wear stuff like this” He mumbled. His eyes kept flicking to the tattoo on your shoulder, only half covered by the strap of your tank top.

“Well, first time for everything” You chuckled.

“What are you doing?” Shayna’s shrill voice called down the hallway.

She was following Christian storming down the hallway. You were already on the back foot, ready to disappear back down the hallway and away from whatever trouble was brewing here.

“No Mom she was just-“ Nick tried to explain

“Look at my boy, so handsome in his suit” She practically squealed.

Christian didn’t pay any attention to them, his eyes fixed on you. You gave him a half smile before slinking away. What you didn’t know was that he had watched your whole interaction with Nick. It made his heart ache, to see you being so gentle with someone he saw as his own blood.

But then you were gone again and all he wanted was to chase after you. Again.

[lakemichigans]

tlou episode 8 thoughts!!

- man.... joel had the death rattle and everything...

- ellie trying to sound intimidating, i love her sm 😭 as much as i dearly love the "ditto for buddy boy" line, it felt wrong coming from this version of ellie. similar to how in the podcast they said it would've been strange for pedro's joel to say "you're treading on some mighty thin ice", i thought they would go the same route here. it's still cute though

- i love the addition of david being a christian preacher. i can imagine manyyy people only became religious after the world ended, making them more susceptible to manipulation than people who may have already been religious their whole lives. if you don't know anything about the bible except what your preacher tells you, you'll believe anything he says. you're desperate to find meaning and salvation in this cruel world and this guy is offering it to you on a silver platter (haha). finding out later that he just uses religion as a way to justify his own sick brain is like.... so real

- wow, david revealed himself quick. i knew we wouldn't get a super long fight scene with david as our ally like the game, but i expected at least one infected to be killed to solidify their bond before breaking it. that scene felt rushed to me :/

- the way ellie feels so much more comfortable being affectionate with joel because he's in this vulnerable state 🥺 if joel never got hurt, i truly believe it would've taken them YEARS to get to the point where ellie lays next to him and he rests his cheek on her head. being in danger speeds up the realization of "oh shit, there's no sense in building walls between us because it's already too late -- you feel like family to me and it would hurt me if you were gone"

- my god that kill in the basement was brutal. pedro captured the perfect amount of badass joel still on the verge of death energy lmao

- FUCK YEAH OH MY GOD that interrogation scene was literally perfection, i wouldn't change a single thing. my ass was CLENCHED kfjskfjs

- i like that the cannibalism is (kinda) less cartoonish in this version. i REALLY like (and by that i mean i'm very horrified by) the fact that only a few people know they're eating human meat while everyone else is left in the dark. especially the poor wife and child :(

- i didn't think it was possible to make the scene with david and ellie in the cage any grosser but they managed it ??? it was so visceral oh my god i want to kill that man. ellie is so smart and resourceful and it's devastating :( the way david uses her 'violent side' as a way to manipulate her is sick. it's such a typical abuser thing to do: "if you hurt me in retaliation you're actually just as bad as me" 🤢 it's written masterfully. i know that line will stick with ellie for a long time :( i'm choosing to interpret it this way because i despise the idea that the show-runners are implying that ellie truly does have a violent heart and is somehow kin to david because of that. i refuse to interpret it that way, ew ew ew.

- yooooo he said cunt

- i was worried the whole episode would feel rushed but i actually appreciate how it continues to ramp up as joel becomes more desperate to find ellie

- jesus christ.. they really went there.... i know it was implied in the game too but wow. i was in complete shock until the moment joel called her baby girl and then the floodgates opened. fucking hell man. poor ellie fucks sake

- i am so so so so glad that they still allowed ellie to save herself rather than be saved by joel. that has always been so special to me. although i wish ellie never had to live with the memory of killing david, it's so important that she was able to talk, think, and fight her way out of that situation. joel swoops in at the last second to COMFORT her, not to save her. it's perfection.

10/10 episode wow this one was brutal but easily my favorite?? i was on the edge of my seat for all 53 minutes even though i knew damn well what was about to happen. it was the perfect mix of action scenes compounding the emotional scenes

[wandering-free-and-queer]

Going through the exvangelical tag on here was very therapeutic today. When I was getting my tattoo my artist and I were sharing tragic backstories (like you do lol) and seeing so many others going through the same emotional turmoil I did when I left Christianity made me feel so much better.

I was in deep. Like really deep. At one point I was the only teenager in a devotional class designed for adults. I went to all the camps and retreats and did all the "right" stuff. I was one of the favorites among the church crowd, the one they'd go to for babysitting or housesitting gigs, I was so trustworthy and helpful and I was always so good with all the kids. They wanted me to teach and share and I taught and share.

And then I tried to come out. I was sick of being in the closet and I wanted to start a physical transition. Immediately all of their attitudes toward me shifted. I was no longer asked to help, I was offered a job doing set design for VBS instead of being a teacher like I was the previous year. I was shunned almost immediately.

It was at that point I knew I had no family in the church. Their messages of unconditional love fell on deaf ears and no one even cared that this person who they "loved" since 13 years old was hurting from it. Mass rejection is unbearable. I felt like I did something wrong by coming out, and it was enough to force me back into the closet, where taking testosterone felt like a sin. I still took it, because I knew if I didn't, I wasn't going to survive. But once the changes became too noticeable, I stopped going. Back then I told myself, I'll go back once I'm further in my transition, once I'm stealth, and no one will know the difference because I'll be at a different building with different people.

So I stopped going to church and I started picking up shifts earlier and earlier on Sundays, using that as my excuse to miss church, something that was almost as bad as being queer. My boss noticed my change in schedule and she wondered what was going on. I told her I needed the money, and I can afford to miss church. I can't really afford to miss overtime pay. And then it all clicked. Going to church was a chore to me, one that I dreaded because I knew I didn't actually fit in there. I was loved because I was useful. I said yes to all the volunteer projects and cleanup days and leaf raking and everything else because I didn't know how to say no. I was discouraged from saying no. Of course, everyone else in my life was able to get away with saying no because they had sports, or plays, or other activities. But I wasn't doing anything else, so of course my time should be spent helping the church.

It's so freeing to have your time be your own again. To be able to express yourself how you want to, not forcing yourself to do things or say things or wear things that aren't you.

I'm proud of who I am now, and honestly pretty damn ashamed of who I was as a kid. Sure, I didn't know any better, because I spent my entire childhood to age 21 in the church. But I was a dick. I made it a point to proselytize, to tell people they were broken if they didn't accept Jesus. I was that asshole who couldn't go to the mall with my friends because they went on Sundays and Sunday was for church. I was that kid who bragged about going on retreat weekends because it meant I could leave school early on Friday, or better yet not come in at all. I told everyone how great my summer camp was. I told everyone about the nationwide retreat held every three years, and how I was lucky because I was one of the teenagers who could have gone twice, because I was just the right age bracket. I thought I was better than everyone else because I was a Christian, one of God's chosen people, one of his favorites because I was doing Christianity the right way while everyone else was either doing it the wrong way or not doing it at all, the ultimate sin.

Fuck it. I'm a sinner. I'm a queer stoner pagan witch. I have more peace now following my goddess Nyx than I ever did following Jesus. She doesn't make me fearful of her power, she doesn't tell me I need to share the Good News with everyone. She just asks me to look at the moon and think of her. All I have to do is enjoy the nighttime, and that's come easy to me ever since I was a kid.

I healed myself. I didn't need God to do it for me.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

I’m still not sure I should have gone to the Herring Festival.

I mean, I know why I always do it. The town has less than 500 people and this is our only event of the year. Since I am so financially trapped here, this was my one time for human interaction type fun until the Greenville Comic Con in August (assuming I can afford it by then). I’d have regretted not going. Dang, though, it has left me feeling so depressed!

It’s a lonely thing when you are on your own. I watched the parade from the front yard, and someone actually stopped, holding up the parade, to ask about Mom. That’s nice, but that was the only reason people wanted to talk to me. I walked up and down the street selling tacky junk, fried food, rides on creepy rickety carnival rides**, and a stage playing country rock and gospel (and the national anthem at least three times, complete with uniformed soldiers). And folks would say “How’s your Mom?” but that would be that for conversation.

Let me just say, I hate that thing where you are talking to someone, and when someone else shows up they just start talking to the other person, ignoring you totally. You are dismissed now that the important person is there. Well, at least royalty would have decency to say “You are dismissed”. These folks just turn away while you are mid sentence and never look at you again. It happened so much today I got so I dreaded it every time I spoke to someone. I finally reached the point I’d sort of sigh and expect it.

I’m not one of them. We all know it. I’ve lived here all my life, but I’m not related to them and I don’t go to any of their churches. I’m not part of any of their clans. Friendly but not friends, I always call it.

I did get to talk to two people. One was a woman selling sea glass jewelry. She wasn’t from around here, and was only there as a favor to someone. The other was my neighbor, but as his parents live in Massachusetts he’s lucky he and his wife didn’t move here a few decades ago. The neighbors never let Pop forget he was from “Mass– a— TWOOOOO-sets”. They both told me so much about themselves that it was rather astonishing. I can talk to people that aren’t from around here.

That said, both of them for in better than me. Heck, when I told my neighbor how I hated feeling trapped here, missing getting to go places, he laughed and said I’d get used to it and told me how nice the place was. People around here are always baffled, and sometimes even offended, by me saying I’m NOT here because I love the town. it’s the greatest place in the world, they say.

Yeah, if you can belong. Right religion, right politics, right interests….

Speaking of religion, funny how they make it infuse everything. A stand for a women’s hunting organization had biblical quotes posted. Everything is religion here.

That sure didn’t help me feel I belong. Not a Christian, and if they knew I was agnostic it would probably cause a fuss. I’d be the first to be burned at the stake if they ever get riled enough.

So alone, and too poor to buy anything, I came back to the house. On a whim, I wanted to open my dressing table drawer and go through my old treasures. Unfortunately the drawer was broken, the bottom having come lose from the rest. I spent an hour crawling around trying to get it open from underneath, when in the gap created at the front of the drawer something fell out….

$20!!!!

I know I should have saved it, but it felt like a gift from my past self, the one with family and friends and dreams. She would want me to have some fun.

I took the money back down the street and bought a cheap little bracelet from the woman selling sea glass jewelry and a funnel cake (bagged against the crazy winds). I may not be able to buy friends to hang out with but I can buy a silly piece of jewelry I will never have much opportunity to wear and something that’s all deep fried and sugar dusted. It made the day feel less hollow (and my stomach too full).

But generally, I feel so damned lonely around people. Not in cities where I don’t know anyone, but my local community where I feel like I am SUPPOSED to belong.

Two hours from now the fireworks start. (Doesn’t seem wise with the wind!) I’ll sit on the Burras House porch alone, oohing and ahhing and taking bad photos. I’d rather have company, but I guess fireworks alone is better than no foreworks.

**Disney would have a field day with the giant banners with badly drawn versions of Marvel characters they had at the rides!

[shesamreads]

This was not bad. I didn't enjoy some of storylines, but overall, I enjoyed this book. I liked the interactions between the boys and Ari, and between themselves. (They are brothers, triplets, and there's no romantic or sexual interactions between them.) I enjoyed Ari's family interactions, too. I think Sam Hall nailed it there.

Rambly thoughts under the cut, as always.

I'm going to be honest, the guys on the cover art don't look as tall or broad as I expected, given their descriptions.

-

"I’m betting not a Macca’s cheeseburger, I thought darkly."

I went on a road trip with 2 Aussies years ago. I miss them terribly, and Macca's makes me think of them 💚

-

It's the barista. I forgot until Ariadne saw the three moons. The bartender gave the woman in the last book a drink, and she went to another world. One with three moons. The new barista in Ariadne's dad's cafe made her a drink, and she said how geat it was. Then she was through a portal to another world.

Is it the same person? I don't remember his name in the other book. Does he eventually get a happy ending, too? I hope so.

-

"My brain had finally thinked everything it could thunk."

-

This is the second book this year to reference Saint Christopher.

-

"As I pawed through the box, I found Roman era fibulae; those bronze brooches used to pin cloaks on with..."

I love when work collides with my real life. We sell fibulae! (And other weapons/historical clothing/etc.)

-

“My work here is done. We’re even now, Theo.”

Iiiiiinteresting. What do you know, Theo?

-

Is Ari's family from Atlantis? Or the alternate Greece? Is that why they've never gone to Greece, because it's so different than what they know?

-

Eww, Harry Potter reference.

(Nostalgia be damned, we give no kickbacks to terfs.)

-

I can't say I'm enjoying the Griff storyline. The book has completely changed tone. Up til this point we've spent the whole book telling us how hot and ready the 3 minotaurs are, and there's been basically no action, and BOOM.

Dad is a cock block (even though this is EXACTLY WHAT HE WANTED FOR ARI) and Ari is a mother to a psychic griffin. She had none of the baby making fun, and all of the responsibilities. This fills the rest of the trials, I guess.

Do they at least get to bone before the end of the book?

-

'“They will look nice,” I replied, “because everyone will be wearing what suits them and makes them happy. The photos will show a family.”'

I like this idea. I used this idea, actually. We had a color, ut everyonw got to choose what they wanted and felt comfortable in. And we all looked FABULOUS. Good choice, Ari.

I wonder what the boys will wear?

-

I'm not religious, I fell out of that a long time ago. Specifically, I wasn't Greek Orthodox, though I'm a little familiar. We had a friend who was, so I knew a little.

It's jarring for me to see Christianity pop up in my romance. Specifically monster romance. I get that religion is a big, beautiful thing in a lot of people's lives, and I'm happy they feel that way! It just wasn't and isn't for me, and that's hard to reconcile in pleasure reading.

-

After reading the end, and the afterward, it seems like Griff storyline wasn't originally intended and kinda took over. And I do feel like it reads that way. It was cute, for the most part, but completely took over and changed the direction of the story. I'm not opposed to pregnancy or children in my romance, but knowing beforehand is much appreciated. This felt like a last minute decision, with more detail than I personally found necessary.

And yes, FINALLY they all boned. Huzzah!

(the last time I have an Okay/3 star review to a book in this genre, the author posted a rant on their facebook about how 3 star reviews are Bad, and people should only give 4 or 5 star reviews. so I'm anxious over this one, I guess?)

Couldn't decide what to read next, so I did a coin toss. Grab the Bull by the Horns by Sam Hall won. I enjoyed Orc-ward Encounters, I hope this one is just as good!

[mickey-milkovichs]

so as some of you may know i started rewatching buffy and i was just looking up robia lamorte again because i forgot how cool she was as jenny and i saw that she starred in a movie last year about how planned parenthood and abortion is bad and im...upset

[farfromstrange]

Foreigner's God: Chapter 16

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Chapter Summary: It's the morning after - but is it really a 'morning after' if the events repeat themselves?

Warnings: Smut (anywhere but a bed), dry humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, orgasm control, clit slapping, degradation, choking, dom/sub dynamic, dom!Matt, p in v (unprotected), breeding kink, cum play, religion kink, blasphemy, slight angst at the beginning, mentions of grooming and an awkward conversation about sex

Word Count: 14.4k

A/n: I'm just digging my own grave here. How far in hell do you guys think I'll go when I die? Surely, there is a place reserved for especially horny fuckers like me (and you, if you're reading this. No offense, we're all the same here. There's no shame in this game period)

I literally just spat on catholicism (and all of Christianity, for that matter) in this one... If you don't like the use of religious imagery during sex, do not read on!

Read Chapter 16: Do I Wanna Know? here on AO3!

18+ MINORS DNI

Sex is amazing, rough sex even more so, as long as both parties enjoy it. What’s not amazing is the morning after. Sometimes it’s awkward, other times it involves tremendous guilt, and even if it doesn’t involve either thing, the soreness sucks. 

Eliza woke up to the sun tickling her skin and forcing her to awake. She turned around, looking at the alarm clock next to the bed. Matt was gone. Her hand met the air when she touched his side of the bed. The time showed 11:32 am. It was late, pretty late. 

She almost forgot what happened the night before. The sudden movement shot pain straight through her core. Her panties were suddenly too rough and the shirt brushed terribly over her breasts. Her neck was bruised, she could feel the way the skin pulled just underneath her fingers. But oh, did it feel victorious.

She took a careful glimpse at her hips. The hickeys were more than prominent, one on either side, and there were marks of the same proportions sucked into the insides of her thighs. She loved them. She loved every last mark he left on her because it reminded her of what happened. It wasn't supposed to feel good. She wasn't supposed to feel so happy, not with everything else going on. There was no time for this, technically. Practically though, she couldn't possibly go without having him inside of her again and again and again for an entire day. It felt like a virtual impossibility.

“Shit,” she cursed quietly. She could barely stand. Her legs were trembling. If Matt picked up on that, she would never hear the end of it. 

Eliza slid the bedroom door open. He must have closed it again after leaving to keep the sounds out. Plates were clattering in the kitchen. The coffee maker sizzled. Slow jazz music was playing. She crossed her arms, leaning against the door frame, watching Matt with his back turned as he poured the scrambled eggs into the pan. 

“Good morning,” he said.

She scoffed. Of course, he heard her. "Hey," she said. Her voice was still thick with sleep, a little raspy too. She couldn't see him, but he was smiling. "You always let your hook-ups wake up alone?"

He tensed up at the joke.

"Sorry." She realized how that had sounded. "I was just..." her hand trailed off along with her words.

She missed his touch. She wanted him to move from the kitchen and hug her, do anything but stand several feet away from her. The weather outside was warm, she knew it was, yet she was freezing, and not because she was lacking clothes.

“I wanted to let you sleep in," he clarified. "Despite what you keep telling yourself, you need sleep. And you know, you’re adorable when you sleep, so I did us both a favor.”

Finally, he turned to look at her. There was this glint in his eyes again, and he was smiling, competing with the sun streaming in through the tainted windows.

Eliza hugged her arms around herself. Damn it, he looked so beautiful. Her heart skipped a beat, and then another one and another until she felt like she couldn't breathe, and suddenly she was more than glad that Matt wasn't close to her. She would have pushed him away.

He took her silence and changed the topic. "Breakfast is almost done," he said.

She took a closer look at his get-up. He was dressed in his work suit, the grey one, minus the jacket and the tie. Both hung over one of the chairs at the dining table. He had combed his hair and the bruises on his face appeared fainter than the day before – did he steal her concealer or did he keep one for emergencies?

“I used yours.”

“You can read minds now?” she asked.

He chuckled. “No, but you tend to think pretty loudly.” When he finally turned fully around, he was smiling. It was a full one, the one she liked.

“If you say so.”

Matt carried the plates to the table. She caught glimpse of the croissants and the orange juice, amongst the other various breakfast choices he had laid out for them. He even cut up some fruit. 

“You went shopping,” she observed.

“Didn’t want to serve you beer and cereal, which were the only things I had left in my fridge. So I thought, what if I just bought some milk, but then again, who serves their guests cereal for breakfast? That would have been really sad. Anyway, that’s why I got some more stuff to, uh, choose from. Eggs, fruit, bread - you know, the good stuff. All without meat, I made sure of that.”

Eliza bit down on her thumb. If the heart were the same type of organ as the penis, she would have gotten an obvious boner by now. “And you did this all for me?”

“Sure,” he said. It was natural. Making her breakfast, doing all the things no one had ever done for her before. But it wasn’t supposed to be. “I noticed you don’t eat enough. Your blood sugar bottoms out, your heartbeat is either too fast or too slow, and your stomach grumbles a lot.” His silly chuckle somehow made her smile, too. “If you don’t want to do it for yourself, that’s fine, but then at least do it for me. I’m the one who has to listen to your body scream for sustenance. It’s irritating.”

“Duly noted,” she said.

“You need to know," he leaned on the back of his chair with the veins on his forearm popping out like he was intentionally trying to kill her, "I don't usually do breakfast.”

The conversation she had been dreading.

He chuckled, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks, the evidence of just how uncomfortable he felt. “Foggy likes to call me a manwhore and you know, maybe he's right. I don’t really keep count, that would be weird, but relationships and I… we’re not speaking terms. Pun intended.”

She nodded again.

“I thought it'd be only fair to tell you that most of my mornings after don't go like this. Not like I can't tell you already knew that by the way your heartbeat just picked up, and you’re listening to me, so I take that as a sign that you’re not about to smack the hell out of me, but yeah... I felt the need to say it out loud. Open communication, you know. Get it all out there.”

Admitting to having an active sex life shouldn’t have to feel so humiliating.

Her bare feet patted closer to him. “I figured that much,” she said. The thought of him with other women made her feel insecure all of a sudden.

"Okay.” Matt took another deep breath, pushing himself off the chair again. “What I'm trying to tell you is that you're not like everyone else. You're not some woman I picked up in a bar to have sex with just to get the edge off. No. I know you think that but it's not true. I wouldn’t do that to you, not ever. That’s not… I’m trying not to be like that anymore. Have been for a long time. I just get weak sometimes and I can’t help it, but I promise you, it’s been a long time. I haven’t had anyone over in a while. If I did, I would tell you.”

Eliza nodded. "Okay." She chose to believe him.

"I'd like to take care of you if you'll let me, just to prove to you that I meant everything that I said last night." He motioned to the table. "I care about you, and I don’t want this to ruin us. It’s the last thing I want, believe me. Please? Let me take care of you, Eliza.” She couldn't say no to his smile either.

He was surprised at her following actions. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, planting her head right in his neck and the rest of her barely covered body right on his. He hugged her back. His arms wrapped all the way around her, holding her close to his chest. His heart skipped a beat. She couldn't feel it. He was more than glad she didn't share the same abilities.

Matt wasn't sure what he was doing. He had told her the truth without actually telling her and now he felt guilty. He felt guilty because he was still carrying the same, big secret he had taken her to bed with. He had sex with her. He made her breakfast. He was acting as if they were in a committed relationship and he didn't mind. In fact, he loved it, but Eliza was complex. He could hear the confusion in the way she moved. Her attraction seemed entirely physical.

She cared more than the general population, she was a good friend, an even better person, and a hero, but there was one thing she couldn't do: Love. Eliza wasn't sure how to fall in love or how to even stay in it. She hated herself. Truly, she was incapable of relationships that went beyond sex and since that seemed to be what Matt was starting to want, she found herself in the worst position possible.

What the hell are we supposed to do now?

She kissed him as if that would answer her question and solve the internal battle she had to fight with herself. It just momentarily eased the ache. Finally, he kissed back. She could lose herself in that feeling forever. It was much better than love or friendship. It was an easy feeling to sort. Physical attraction made sense.

"Thank you, Matt," she said. It seemed like the appropriate thing to say, and she meant it, every last syllable.

He pressed his forehead to hers. She sensed sadness in his eyes. The colors were dancing tango around his soul.

"Yeah, of course," he hummed back.

"No, seriously. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Die, probably."

"Yeah, probably."

"C'mon.” He squeezed her hips. "Let's eat breakfast.“

She lowered herself down on the hardwood chair. The second her ass hit the surface, she regretted ever considering sitting down. Her wince didn’t go unnoticed, but that was to be expected.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. She was lying. 

Matt sighed. He opened the fridge, retrieving the ice pack he kept there for the many nights he came home with a black eye. Either that or he used frozen beans. He walked around her and dropped it in her lap, gently pushing it against her aching core. She hissed. It was cold and the pressure sent shockwaves through her body. She was incredibly overstimulated. 

He rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Cue the catholic guilt. He traced over her neck, feeling the blood pooling underneath where his fingers used to be. His voice cracked, “Is it bad?" he asked. "Did I hurt you?” 

She caught his hand. “No, Matt, I’m okay. Just sore.” She shifted to readjust the ice pack. Her legs protested. “Like, very sore,” she said, and that made him chuckle. "Seriously, it's like a whole bench truck rolled over me, or I accidentally sat down on a beehive, and now everything's on fire."

He laughed at her bluntness. "Sitting on a beehive does not sound fun. Have you done it before?”

“Shut up!" she snorted. "I asked for it, remember? My body just isn’t used to this anymore. Having sex, I mean. It’s been a long time for me too, y’know. Very long.”

“Oh.”

“About a year and a half, to be exact, and it lasted for about five minutes instead of five rounds. So, this is all a bit confusing for me, too.”

His head snapped around. “What?!” he blinked, “Why didn’t you tell me?” The question came soft. "I would have been gentler." He brushed over the bruise on her throat again. It was fading by the second, but he couldn’t see that. His mind switched to the ice pack, then he remembered the many hickeys he couldn’t help but leave. She was completely covered in him. But at what cost?

“I shouldn’t have squeezed this hard,” she heard him mutter. “I should have been in better control of myself?”

“Are you kidding me?” She stared at him. “Why do you feel guilty for something I wanted and clearly enjoyed?”

“Don’t tell me it doesn’t look like someone jumped you.”

“That’s because I was jumped. By you.”

“Okay,” he chuckled drily, “but the choking…”

“Was something I asked for. Besides, I bruise like a fucking peach. You’re not special.”

His eyebrows shot up. It took him a moment to process.

“You heard me,” she said. “Don’t give yourself too much credit. You’re not that strong.”

A laugh bubbled out of him. “You really have no filter, do you?” he said.

“No.”

“God.” His chin tilted upwards. “You’re…”

“What?” She smirked.

“I don’t- you’re crazy.” He wanted to say something else entirely. “I should have asked you before,” he said. “I didn’t think… you made it sound like you do this more often.”

“I used to before Sokovia literally dropped out of the sky,” she told him. “The Avengers kind of went to shit after that. Didn’t have much time to think about sex between all the rules and the people dying around me.”

“Okay, fair point.”

“Hey,” Eliza said and reached for his hand on the table, squeezing it once she finally grabbed a hold of him. “You eased me into it. You didn’t just fuck me, you took your time and you talked to me and I-“ she struggled. She wasn’t sure how to say it without getting emotional. “I’m not used to this, not at all, and it scared me at first, how willing you are to listen to me, but I… I felt seen, for the first time. Do you- does that make sense to you? I’m not- okay, I have no idea how to talk about sex, so I’m just gonna stop now. This is embarrassing.”

Eliza hid behind the lid of her mug, eyes closed. The silence was agonizing. She didn’t want to look at him. There was always the possibility of being resented, and she wouldn’t survive that.

His soft voice and the spoken words made her heart flutter like a little butterfly. “It's not embarrassing," he said.

"It kind of is. I mean, I'm not nearly experienced enough. I don't know how to do this."

"If it makes you feel better, I haven't been in a situation like this before either." He smiled alongside his words. "Like I said, this isn't what I usually do."

"Manwhore," she said, "Yeah, got it."

He barked out a laugh. "Of course, that's the one thing you remember."

"I would have made that deduction myself, but you do this thing with your mouth..." she shook her head, "I don't know. You're pretty good for a manwhore."

"Ah, thank you."

"Not that the bar had been high. That thing was impossibly low. You could have been on your knees and still hit your head.”

His face turned serious, as did his tone. "I’m sorry,” he said, barely above a whisper. “So it's true then. No one has ever tried to understand what you like. They just took what they wanted, leaving you high and dry.”

"Pretty much," she said.

“Christ, I’m… how did you… why did you…” His frown showed his hard time understanding.

It wasn't all that complicated though. She picked men who chose to have sex for their own pleasure, men who didn't care about their partners, they just wanted to stick their dick somewhere and get off. There was no reason why.

There was no thrill in not enjoying sex, she realized that the second Matt kissed her the night before. He was supposed to be the standard to live by, not some guy off Tinder looking for a fuck-doll. But the number of people who were like Matt was limited to one. There could only be one of him, only one who did it quite like him, and that made her feel a little better.

"I just want to understand why you settled for less than what you deserve," he said, managing to piece his messy thoughts together.

“Don’t ask me," she answered. "After last night, I’m questioning a lot of things myself.”

“The things you like... it should be fun. You should be with someone willing to entertain your fantasies, as long as they don't cross a line, not someone who failed every possible anatomy lesson in high school."

“You wanna tell me that you knew all of that from the beginning?"

"Of course not," he chuckled softly, "but I experimented. I experimented and I learned what it could be like to share intimacy with other people. What it should be like. I had sex because I enjoyed it and I made sure that the other person was just as comfortable as me. It’s what should matter. Of course, you don’t know any of this right after your first time, you learn as you go.”

"My first time was in the dirty bathroom of a bar.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him that. “I was nineteen, the guy was probably thirty-two.”

He blinked. “What?”

The math in his head triggered all sorts of alarms.

“Yeah,” she said. “But I was also high on Oxy at the time, so I wasn’t really there. Mentally, at least.“

Once she got to talking, it was hard to stop. The tension in his shoulders multiplied by the second. Her words hit parts of him that urged the animal out of hiding. The animal that didn’t want her to get hurt. The animal was ready to burn the world down to destroy everyone who had already hurt her and prevent any further damage. The animal that was so carnal, revenge came naturally and as second nature. He just wanted to destroy everyone she told him had hurt her in one way or another because she deserved the best and the people who used her deserved nothing but whatever punishment the devil had planned for them even long before their demise.

“Did he-“

“No. I wanted to. Or I thought I did. I know I said yes, but I didn't know what I was signing up for.”

“I don’t think it counts then. If you didn’t like it, you don’t have to say it was your first time. Virginity is a social construct anyway.”

“I second that, but what’s the point?”

“You could start over.”

“What’s done is done,” she stated.

“No,” he said sternly. “The guy groomed you. That wasn’t sex.”

“You’re right, he did. I’m not even gonna sugarcoat it. It’s bad. He was too old, but at that moment, I didn’t care. I was high. We both were. The consent on this one is a bit dubious but on both ends.“

“Okay.” He took a big breath. “You’re right,” it hurt him to cave. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“I’m just curious,” he leaned forward, “Why did you continue having sex with people you don’t enjoy it with instead of finding someone you like?”

She supposed the question was fair and accounted for.

"I watched porn.”

“What?”

“To prepare myself, I mean, but there is something inherently wrong about a lot of porn. It doesn't match up with reality at all. Most of it is staged. They fake orgasms, making the watcher believe it's that easy to cum. And everyone enjoys it. When you watch porn, everyone's moaning and they're having the time of their lives, no matter with what partner, so I thought that's what it's like. Fun. Sexy. Pleasing."

"And then the guy picked you up and it was nothing like what you prepared for."

“And I simply thought I was broken, so I accepted it.”

His nostrils flared. "God, this is- I'm sorry."

"No one told me it was going to hurt, that you had to be gentle the first time. I never had the talk because I didn't have parents, and Tony wouldn't bother, which I understand. I wouldn't have wanted him to. I didn't like having sex, I never had an orgasm before, and I was okay with that. It's sex. Everyone does it. Gets your mind off of things, even when you're not enjoying yourself. I don't know, I guess after that first time, I thought that's what sex is like. The guy offered, he showed me the only kind of affection I knew how to deal with and I was just so fucking broken, I couldn't help it. I needed to get rid of a pain that not even the drugs could make disappear, and I'm not even sure what kind of pain it was- is.” She scoffed into her coffee, watching as the liquid parted with her breathing. “I realize now that I might have oversexualized myself because all the men in my life ever did."

She expected a smart comeback, but instead, he took the hand that wasn't holding onto porcelain in both of his and kissed over her knuckles. "You're worth so much more than what they made you believe," he said.

"I keep thinking if someone had just told me, if I had known better, things wouldn't have turned out the way they did," she said. "I don't know. It's a stupid thought. I probably wouldn't have listened anyway."

"You can't put the blame on yourself," he said.

"But I chose to sleep with the wrong people."

"Still not your fault."

She smiled softly, almost sadly. "You put me on too high of a pedestal, Matt."

He shook his head, kissing her knuckles again. Part of him wanted to agree because he knew that. He knew he was thinking of her as some saint, but she wasn't. She was a person. No one is ever truly perfect. She had rough edges, she had issues and she wasn't relationship material. The things she did in the past would never go away. She was tainted. She wasn't the pure, innocent woman he liked to think her to be. But he didn't fall in love with her because he thought that. He fell in love with her because she wasn't perfect. She was far from that. She was neither a sinner nor a saint. She was Eliza. She was his person. He fell in love with her, all of her, not just the perfect picture his subconscious liked to paint. He fell in love with her for her, nothing else, nothing less, and nothing more. She was everything already. She was his world. She was everything he wanted and would ever need by his side. Losing her, he was sure, he wouldn't survive. And for Matt, that was one of the scariest yet exciting things to realize.

He blew over the wetness his lips left behind. She shuddered. The Matt Murdock effect was a dangerous game. "No," he whispered into her skin, hoping his voice would stay tattooed there, his words branded into her brain, "You're right where you need to be."

"And where is that?" she breathed.

"With me." Lovesick, a person would use to describe the look on his face. Trapped in a constant state of bliss.

"What does that mean? For us, I mean."

"I don't know. We'll figure it out." He had no doubts about that.

Eliza sighed. It didn't feel right. All of this was just too damn perfect. She hated perfect. She hated happiness. She hated couples who flaunted their relationships as if it wasn't the hardest thing to do. Most of all though, she hated love, because love is a fucking tricky bitch and she hated what it did to her.

She hated who she was becoming. She hated that she was doing this to him and he had no idea. He had no idea she was going to break his heart. It was the only thing she knew how to do. Whenever a perfect thing presented herself, something good, something stable, something that could possibly heal her broken soul and make her whole again, she felt the sudden urge to destroy it, and she would because that was all she knew how to do. Destroy the only good things in her life.

She was a menace. A wrecking ball. Her powers weren't the problem, and neither was the reality stone - she was.

Her voice was the last crack in the foundation. "I'm sorry." She was sorry for nothing in particular. She was sorry for everything.

He reacted differently from what she expected. He leaned over, grabbed her face, and kissed her. His eyes were glossed over and slightly red, and his lashes were already wet from the transference. "Listen," he called her name softly, "Promise me something?"

Eliza nodded.

"Whenever someone tries to take advantage of you, hurt you, or use you, fight back. And I don't mean physically because I know you're more than capable of that." He stopped to sniffle, trying to divert the tears. Those were tears stemming from a deep, sensitive part of him that constantly wanted to die whenever he was near her - he cared that much. "I mean, you need to fight back and talk about what you want. I need you to use your words to stand up for yourself, and if that's not enough, please, for the love of God, hit whoever tries to hurt you so hard, they will learn what it's like to be blind."

She wasn't sure how to deal with this whirlwind of emotions. He watched in horror as she broke down crying in front of him. Her hand dropped in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks, and the sobs wrecking her body were painful to listen to. Every intake of breath was louder than the next one. If she kept this going, she would hyperventilate. Her heartbeat was already through the roof.

A hand found the back of her neck, moving her forward until she was safe in his arms. She tried to fight it, but Matt was stronger. He held her tightly against him, hoping she could hear his heart beating, hoping she could feel the comforting warmth and realize just how much she meant to him. He wanted that to be enough.

"I'm sorry," she cried. "Fuck! I don't deserve you. I don't."

He shook his head instantly. "Don't do that," he said. "Don't say that."

"I can't do this."

I can't love you.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Whatever this is, we can figure it out."

He was too good for her, to her.

"I promise you," he said, holding her a little further away, just enough to press their foreheads together and her hand against the left side of his chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart. "I have you," he said, "and I'm never letting you go. You're mine now and I'm yours. C'mon. You and me against the world, remember?"

"You and me?" she asked. The tears finally subsided, but the numb aching in her chest remained. She needed a remedy, something to reverse the poison her mind shot into her veins, tainting her perception of what she truly wanted.

"It's always gonna be you and me, sweetheart. Until the world ends."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, promise."

Her eyes flicked to his lips. He wet them. There was so much left to discuss, so many things left unsaid, but none of that mattered. She felt trapped in her mind, the place was terrifying, and she needed out. The only way to do so was right in front of her, handsome and bruised, an angel with broken wings.

She kissed him first. The force tilted the chair back, his foot being the only thing keeping them connected to the floor. Eliza threw her entire weight against him as if that somehow would make her melt into him and make her disappear, just for a minute.

Regaining composure, Matt kissed her back with just about the same amount of force. Messy fingers mapped out every last inch of skin he could find. The picture of her was burned into his brain. He knew he could have her simply by saying the word. She would jump at the slightest possibility to please him. And as much as he loved the thought of that, he couldn't follow through with it.

He forced her face away from his. “I think we should talk about this first," he said.

She was afraid of talking. Talking ruined too much. “Why talk when you could do something else?” she said. Words weren't meant for people like her.

He was weak. Pathetic, foolish, idiotic, and the list went on. She flicked the switch and the tables turned. He licked his lips. “I can’t,” but he wanted to. “I’ve got an appointment with the prison Fisk is being held in.” Though his thumb tweaked her nipple. The other hand moved up her side, touching where he left the hickeys. He could feel them underneath his calloused fingertips. The fabric of his dress shirt was so thin, he could feel her heat radiating through it. 

Eliza pouted. His dress pants did little to conceal his erection. Amazing what just a little kissing could do to a man that proud himself on having self-control.

“God, you drive me crazy, you know that?” 

She ground down on him, sucking his bottom lip between hers. The sound was obscene. “I know.”

He hummed. His fingers worked wonders to ease the knots in her back and upper thighs that were restricting her movements. She relaxed in his arms.

"I think you need a hot shower," he said. "Always helps with sore muscles."

“I'm not in the mood for a shower."

"Why not?“

“‘Cause that’s not what I’m in the mood for.” Her eyes darkened. She prayed for him to get the hint.

Matt kept massaging her thigh, but his hand started to move further up until he reached her ass cheeks, giving them a firm squeeze. At this point, he was fully hard in his pants, cock straining painfully against the thin fabric.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked.

The smack against her left cheek was gentle, yet enough to make her jolt forward. “Yeah,” he breathed into her mouth, engulfing her in a tight hug as he pressed their lips together in a sloppy battle of tongue and teeth.

“You’re enjoying yourself too,” he underlined his words with a swift squeeze of her ass, causing her to moan against his hot mouth.

“Hmm, seems like I am." She played with the collar of his shirt where his tie was supposed to sit. One of the buttons opened itself. "I guess I just really like your lap."

"You do look good in my lap," he said. "It's almost like you were made for me."

"What a shame then that you can't enjoy it. I have so many great ideas."

Matt moved her further up so she was resting right above his crotch. "Oh yeah," he breathed huskily. "What would that be, exactly?"

"Oh, it involves a lot of sex."

"Really? Tell me more.”

He breathed in sharply. Her arousal made him high. Her scent lay in the air, thick and choking him into unconsciousness.

"You'd fuck me," she said. "Right on this table, then the kitchen counter, against the wall, the couch-"

"Damn," he interrupted her. His cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling. "Do we ever get to the bed in your theory, or is it just random surfaces in the apartment?"

"That depends. How much time do you have?"

"None," he had to admit, sadly.

Eliza hissed. "Bummer, and I was just getting started."

"I know. I can smell you, sweetheart." His nose nudged at her neck.

"You can actually smell me?"

"Oh, yes."

"So you could tell every time I-“ she was panicking.

“Well, not on purpose!”

“Oh, my God.”

He grabbed her before she could slip off of him. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. I was trying not to, but the more I tried, the worse it got.” He stroked his hands over her burning cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel insecure. There is no reason for you to be. It’s sweet.”

“Me?” she asked, voice quivering.

“Yeah. You’re sweet, and you taste and smell the same. It’s not a bad thing. If anything, you should be proud of yourself. I just have to say something flirty or take my shirt off and-" he snapped, "Instantly, without touching you, your fucking scent fills my nose. It makes my dick so hard, sweetheart. You have no idea how painful that is."

“Jesus Christ, Matt!” Her head dropped into the crook of his neck, which made him laugh. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just so cute when you get flustered.”

“No,” she whined. “You could tell every time you turned me on and you just- you didn’t say anything.”

“Would you have wanted me to?”

“No!”

“Then why are we arguing?”

“‘Cause it’s embarrassing.”

“Tell me,” he said and bucked his hips so his hard cock bumped against the wet spot on her panties, “Does this feel like something you should be embarrassed about?”

She bit down on his shoulder. “God.”

“Hm? I don't think so.”

The friction of the two layers of fabric rubbed deliciously against her slick folds, the head of his cock pressing down on her clit ever so slightly, movements restricted by his pants and his boxers. They fell into a steady rhythm. He was as sensitive as ever, every move of her hips knocking the air out of his lungs and adding to the overwhelming pressure in his stomach. She started circling her hips and it hit his cock in all the right places, he threw back his head in absolute bliss, eyes shut and bottom lip bruised from the teeth grazing against it.

“You still embarrassed?” he asked.

“Shut up,” she shot back. Her hips faltered. He whimpered into her ear. “Oh-“ Her muscles twitched with the sudden wave of pleasure that shot straight to her core. The sound was heavenly. A sound so high coming out of a mouth that was usually so tough painted the most delicious picture, one she would never be able to get off her mind again.

His cock in the confines of his slacks was starting to hurt. He tried to angle her differently. The several layers of fabric sliding against the weeping head burned through his entire body, making his toes curl. It was the sweetest form of torture.

Eliza realized he was trying to gain more friction while at the same time, trying to free himself. "You need any help with that?” she asked.

"No, it's good," he said. He broke into a choked-up cry, her cunt leaving a wet trail on the grey of his suit. Her clit brushed against his cock and he could see the stars evading his vision clearly. Even with the world on fire, the darkness managed to explode.

She raked a hand through his hair. Sweaty strands stuck to his forehead. The single tear of pleasure tasted salty on her tongue, licking it up from where it trickled down his bearded chin. The hairs scratched at her tongue. His eyes fluttered shut. She was all over him, lips, hands, heartbeat to heartbeat - she was close enough for him to hear the wetness gush out of her hole, making the desperate back-and-forth of her hips even easier. Her arousal seeped through his pants, through his underwear, and onto his cock. It could have just been sweat mixed with her signature scent; he was too far gone to question the feeling.

His nails dug into her back. "What do you need?" she asked him, breathless and high.

He couldn't possibly form a coherent sentence.

"Do you need me to go faster?"

He nodded feverishly at the suggestion. She grinned against his jaw, picking up the speed of her hips, sliding her cunt harder and faster against his crotch and what she could feel of his sturdy thigh.

With another helpless whine, he demanded, "Kiss me."

She supposed he needed to suppress his moans, even though they were the only thing keeping her going. His voice alone was enough to make her wet, but the sounds erupting from his sound were the definition of pornographic.

In response, she sucked the golden cross in between her teeth and kissed him. He tasted the small piece of metal on his tongue. It was hot, laced with her signature scent and her spit. He kissed her through it, occasionally biting and licking with his tongue. The whole scene was so blasphemous, he should have felt guilty. He should have gone to confession then and there because this wasn’t right, far from it, but there wasn’t a bone in his body that cared. 

He growled when she stopped grinding and instead, started palming him through his slacks. “I should punish you for that,” he said. She squeezed her hand around his cock and he moaned, throwing his head back to taste her arousal in the air.

She bit her lip. “Oh, if God could see you now. What would he say then? If he could see what a slut you are for me.” 

His hips bucked into her touch.

“You see, you’re not the only one with a dirty mouth,” she said. Skillfully, she unbuckled his belt to free him, finally, and he hissed at the cold air touching the head of his cock. “God,” she growled, “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

His eyes rolled back. “Fuck.” 

“Everything about you is absolutely divine. And you're good, so good, Matthew." He could only whimper in response. "It's okay, baby. You can let yourself go. I'll help you."

He grabbed her wrist, encouraging her movements. With every movement, he felt the endless bliss inch a little closer. He bucked his hips in time to meet her hand. The other slipped between her spread thighs, rubbing circles on her swollen clit, playing with the wetness that had collected in her underwear, a mixture between her and him.

Eliza huffed. She took the hand touching her pussy and forced it around her neck. “That’s not what this is,” she said. “Surrender control.”

He gritted his teeth. Of course, he would say no. He once again attempted to move his hands anywhere other than where she forced them to be. It was useless.

"You're not used to this position, are you? You're not used to being the submissive one?"

"I’m letting you do this, sweetheart,” he bit back. She pinched him.

“You could always do this yourself,” her breath was hot against his neck when she kissed his pulse point. His heart skyrocketed. The way her finger kept rubbing over his cock was too much.

“Don’t you dare,” he said. 

“Wasn’t planning to.”

“If you would just let me get you off-“

“Aw, are you getting close? Do you not want to be the first to cum?"

“No.”

"That's a shame 'cause I'm not giving in."

"C'mon." He ignored her silent demand to keep his hands to himself, reaching into her panties this time, catching her clit. She stilled. If she allowed herself to enjoy his touch, she wouldn't win. She knew she would fall apart if he kept this up. He drew circles around the sensitive nub, eventually sliding down to collect the wetness at her entrance and rubbing it all over her cunt. Her pulse pounded hard and heavy underneath the sore skin. He could hear and feel it loud and clear.

While his thumb stayed, doing the job it was supposed to do, his middle finger dipped into her hole. She gasped. He wasn't playing fair. This was her moment and he was ruining it by taking control. The position made it a little harder to slide his fingers inside of her, but the man was flexible, especially with his hands. He had no trouble stuffing her with his fingers, his thumb still drawing symbols on her clit. Her thighs twitched. It was unfair how good he felt.

She sighed. "You really can't take when something is given to you, can you?"

"No," he smirked against her neck.

She desperately searched for support when he managed to slide a third finger in.

"Oh, God. Fucking Christ. Shit!"

"Language," he murmured. His lips were sure to leave a bruise on her collarbone.

"Oh, I hate you," she panted. The way his fingers expertly thrust into her had her hanging over the edge in seconds, held up only by a small string of self-control.

Matt kissed her neck. "Sure you do." He didn't seem bothered.

Until her fist tightened so incredibly hard around his cock, he almost came right then and there. "Stop fighting, Matthew," she said.

"You stop fighting." He curled one of his fingers to hit her G-spot.

Her eyebrows shut up. “You are such a brat, Matthew Murdock. This is honestly pathetic.”

She lost hold of his cock, surprised to see him stopping her completely. He kissed her, lips hot and wet, and he stuffed himself back into his dress pants, hard and leaking precum. She was this close to making him come apart. Instead, he chose to torture himself. She was trying to not take it personally.

Who would have figured that the Catholic guilt made Matt Murdock horny as fuck. 

He pulled his fingers out of her, leaving her empty and aching, and in one big swoop, he wiped the dining table clean. All the food and cutlery fell to the floor. Liquid spilled everywhere, hopefully not on the carpet. He lifted her off his lap with a single arm, sitting her down on the table.

He ripped his shirt open, the one she wore. Buttons joined the chaos on the floor. “I have ten minutes,” he growled into her neck. “I will make you cum in five and if you try to stop me or pull my head away, I'll make you wish that you'd never pushed me this far.” 

Eliza stared up at him. Well, shit. 

Instead of pulling the underwear down her legs, he pulled at the waistband. Her cunt was aching, she probably couldn’t take another orgasm, not for another day, so why was it that she found herself in this position again? 

She couldn’t help herself. She needed him like she needed air to breathe.

The fabric of her panties was pretty much torn to shreds by the time it landed on the floor. She gasped.

“I want to try something. Would you be okay with that?" He pushed her hair out of her face.

Eliza wanted to say no, but the offer seemed too exciting to decline. "Yeah," she breathed out.

"We need a safe word," he told her. "Green means go, yellow indicates that you’re nearing your limits, and red means-"

"Stop," she finished. "Yeah, got it."

He smirked. "Eager, are we?"

"Well, I'm certainly not gonna cum on my own."

"Okay. Listen, if this weren't so time sensitive, I would leave you here with only your fingers and then see how close you can get without my help." His head cocked at her sharp intake of breath. "So, I'd be careful if I were you. Unless you want to suffer for the rest of the day."

Her whine sufficed. "I'm sorry," she said. She sounded so small. She hated how he managed to make her go from confident to submissive in one go. He reached for the steering wheel and took over. It was frustrating but at the same time, it turned her on like nothing ever had before.

Matt kissed her. "Good girl," he said. He pushed her back with a flat hand on her stomach. "Now be even better and spread your legs for me, sweetheart."

She threw her head back against the wood of the table. His head buried deep in her cunt and while it hurt, she couldn’t help but moan. It felt good, his tongue flat against her folds as he spread them expertly once again to unsheath her clit. Still swollen from the night before, she was sure she was going to finish in less than five minutes. 

 “Oh, God!” She chanted his name like a prayer. In response to that, a single hand reached for the cross necklace and forced it between her teeth. She moaned. She wanted to gag at the taste, but she couldn’t. She could barely breathe. 

The crown of her head was the only thing connecting her to the table. The wood hit the wall behind them repeatedly, with every thrust of his tongue and the desperate attempt to bring her hips closer to his mouth. It made the floor shake, it seemed. Her hands tangled in his hair. He could hear the blood rushing in her thighs next to his ears. It was excruciating, it was painful. He needed more or he would surely die.

What was he doing to her? This couldn’t possibly be real. No one could be as good at eating pussy as he was. She was dreaming, had to be. 

His hands found her bare tits. His fingers were rough, his touch gentle. He squeezed the tender flesh. Her nipples perked up at the sudden attention. He tucked at them, expertly playing with them, and it added heavily to the painful pressure building in her lower stomach. She wanted to savor it longer, but she was stumbling on the edge, her muscles too sore to focus on anything other than the high she was chasing. 

Her hands found his, keeping him wrapped around her breasts. She encouraged him to squeeze harder. The flesh was incredibly soft underneath his touch. 

Matt sucked at her clit again. The suction was wet and obscene and it hurt so good, she choked out a warning. “Fuck, don’t stop,” she said. It was more of a breath than spoken words, but he heard her loud and clear. “Don’t stop!” 

Four minutes and thirty-two seconds. He counted the movements of the minute hand inside the clock on his kitchen wall. 

She cried loudly when he stopped. Her hips bucked, but the thought alone didn’t work. The pressure subsided. She was left aching, clit pulsating, and the air cold on her pussy. She wanted to pass away. The tears she fought were ones of frustration and pure pleasure. She hated him. It wasn’t fair. 

Matt pursed his lips and blew cold air against her clit. She whined. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Her leg twitched from where it was still seated over his shoulder. 

“I need you to hold it,” he said. The tone of his voice sounded firm as if something might happen if she disobeyed.

Eliza bit her lip. The blood was pooling in her mouth and around the cross necklace. “I can’t,” she choked out.

Squeezing the outside of her thighs added to the pain of the already-formed bruise. “Stop saying you can’t,” he said. 

“I really can’t. I need to-“

His large hand reached over her hip and between her legs. The slap wasn’t loud. He flicked her clit only enough to shock her. She clenched her legs around his neck. Her attempt to pull him in failed, instead he brought his palm back down on her sex. 

“Stop,” the demand was clear. “Don’t cum unless I tell you to."

And he dove right back in. His mouth attacked her clit with new vigor. He sucked and nibbled at the skin, tongue pumping into her. It was torture, him between her thighs, the sight of his hooded eyes searching for hers, knowing what he was doing. He moaned, that bastard, and his voice vibrated, adding to the pressure that was steadily growing again. She clenched her muscles, it was the only way to stop the inevitable from happening. Her fingers pulled at his hair so tightly, she could have sworn the next moan he let out was one of pain, not pleasure, but with Matt, the two often blurred the line.

As predicted, she tried to push his head away. It was too much, too painful and she knew if she didn’t, she was going to finish and it was going to hurt even more. The knot was so tight, the glass was about to break. She couldn’t make any noise, she was paralyzed.

He pulled her further into him, the response sounding more like a warning, “What did I say?” he growled. “What did I tell you about pulling my head away?”

She was crying. “I’m sorry, I just- Please, Matthew!”

“No,” he stated plainly. 

“Please!”

“You wanna be my good girl?” She nodded feverishly. “Then hold it.” 

His head disappeared between her thighs again. He kissed her folds. This one was gentler. He took his time. The rough surface of his tongue felt like sandpaper. 

“Fuck!” and she wasn’t sure if she said, Matty or Daddy. Her mind short-circuited. She was a woman out of control and he was holding the remote.

“A bit more,” he whispered to her clit, “You can do it.”

She could have said red and then the torture would have been over. He would have stopped and they could have gone about their day, but truth be told, she didn’t want to. She wanted him to stop yet keep going at the same time and it was fucked up because as much as she tried to ignore it, his dominance was turning her on, and she was more than ready to comply. She was more than ready to suffer through it. 

"You taste so good, fuck! I love it when you do as you're told."

“Oh, fuck you, Matthew!” 

Her eyes flew open. He stopped. 

“What did you just say?” he asked. His chin was glistening with her arousal, cheeks flushed, eyes hooded. “Repeat that back to me, sweetheart. What did you just say?”

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Matt. I was-"

"I said, repeat it back to me."

"I said fuck you, Matthew. But I didn't mean it, I swear."

Her sobs were pathetic.

"Something tells me you did," he hummed. "Do you want to get off or not?"

"Yes!" she cried out. "Fuck, yes. Please! I need to cum, ah!” His teeth dug into the inside of her thigh. She threw her head back. "I really want to cum. Please, Matthew. I'll be good! I'll be good, I promise."

He cooed, "How could I say no to that?"

She nodded feverishly. She hoped he would continue, allowing her some of the sweet relief she was chasing.

“Hey," he forced her to look at him with a harsh tug at her thighs, "If you keep talking to me like that, I won’t let you cum at all.” The statement left no space for discussion. "We clear?"

"Yes," she choked out. "I'm sorry." The last thing she wanted was to disappoint him.

He caught onto the tears and how some of them started to feel like more than just frustration seeping out of her pores. His gaze softened. "You okay?" he asked. His controlling facade dropped and the normal Matt started to peek his head around the corner.

Eliza lifted herself up to her elbows. Her head was dizzy. The ruined orgasm kept on building, even without him touching her, but the lack of pressure on her clit was frustrating and she wanted more. She needed more. She needed all he had to give and his sudden patience made her almost angry.

"What?"

"You okay?" he smiled up at her.

She nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Fine. What- why are you-" She couldn't even speak properly anymore.

"What's your color?"

This wasn't part of the play.

She blinked again. It took a moment for her brain to piece the puzzle together. "Green," she told him.

Relief washed over him. "Thank you."

“Now, can you get back to what you’re doing or-“

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re gonna wish you didn’t just say that.” And then the dominant Matt returned and she drove back to her bed in heaven. She wanted to stay there for all eternity, and he wouldn't mind building a home between her thighs either. It was his favorite place in the world already, and he had only gotten two tastes so far.

His tongue flattened against her folds. He thrust the tip in, nudging his nose against her clit. The pressure was sweet torture. And he decided to take his time. He explored her insides with his tongue while his hands kept feeling her up. He caught her nipples with his fingers, pinching them. It elicited a cry of pain from her, but it quickly turned to pleasure when he soothed over the ache by squeezing her tits. 

“Matt,” she as much as begged. “Can I..."

He shook his head. The movement felt absolutely genius on her sensitive skin. The inside of her thighs was red and her pussy was swollen from all the attention. She would surely find serious beard burn later. He was trying to avoid rubbing against her too much, but with her thighs clenching around his head and squishing his cheeks between them, he didn't have much of a choice but to let it happen. The fire was bittersweet.  

He moaned. He did that on purpose. “One more second.”

Every muscle in her body was tense. “I can’t take another second! Fuck!” 

“Ah-ah,” his nails dug into her hips, “Do as I say.”

“Please, Matt!”

He decided to have at least some mercy on her. “Fuck my face and I might just let you.” 

She bucked her hips into his mouth. He greeted her gladly with all he had to give. It was messy, she was chasing the high her body had been denied so many times before, and pathetically, it took her some time before her legs locked around his head. He was holding her so tight, she wasn’t sure why. Until he groaned, a broken scream, and finally, after what felt like an eternity. “Cum.” 

She bit into her forearm when she came. It was way too early for the neighbors to hear obscure moaning from next door. She was pretty convinced, also, that none of this was particularly helpful to her concussion. Her head came down so hard on the wooden table, the sound was deafening even to her ears. The rest of her body shut down, paralyzed in their spot, and Matt was trapped between her thighs. The second the orgasm crashed over her, the pain multiplied. Like a hot sword, it cut through her. But what started as painful slowly turned into pleasure – extreme pleasure. It was the kind of pleasure that makes you see the gates of heaven as your soul slowly descends from your being. 

Her fist hit the table. Her teeth drew blood on her arm. The orgasm went on forever, it seemed. Her body wouldn’t stop convulsing underneath him and greedy as he was, he made sure to completely suck her dry. He dragged it on for far too long, but she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the way he took care of her. 

The pain long forgotten, all she could feel was his mouth and the small groans he allowed himself to release as he cleaned her up. He sucked up every last drop she had to give

“Good girl,” he said. “Such a good girl.”

He peaked up at her, eyes blown wide with lust and his mouth glistening with her release. He was searching for her face and almost succeeded, but only almost. He failed her by millimeters. 

Maybe sex with Matt Murdock was exactly the remedy she needed. 

The gentle stroking of his hands along her sides brought her back to life. She breathed shakily, watching him rise to his feet and lean over her, brushing the hairs out of her face, sticky with sweat. 

He accidentally brushed against her nipples. She slapped his hand away. He took the hint, making sure to avoid her erogenous zones altogether as he kept kissing her skin to calm her down. 

She looked down to see the obvious wet patch in his pants. Oh.

OH.

“You see what you do to me?” he muttered. 

She thought him calling her sweetheart was a compliment enough, but damn it! Seeing the effect she had on him was the best fucking compliment anyone could have given her, ever.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“No, thank you.” He stroked her cheek. She watched as he dipped a finger between her legs to collect the wetness still leaking out of her, and he licked his luscious lips. "That was so good."

"Hm. I think you completely ruined my thighs."

His hand soothed over the reddened skin.

"Did you ever consider shaving?" she smirked at him. "Like you shave your chest, I mean."

"Foggy said that makes me look like a baby in a suit," he said.

"Boss baby."

"That's exactly what he called me!" He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Seriously now though, do you need me to shave? Does it hurt?"

She giggled. "No, I like your beard."

"Okay, good."

"And I think I would like it even more if you grew out your chest hair." The post-orgasm haze made her particularly talkative this time around.

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"But I can understand why you don't. It's probably uncomfortable with your hypersensitivity, right? I know I get annoyed by my body hair sometimes, so I prefer to shave, but not everyone does and that's okay. Shaved or not, doesn't matter. As long as you're comfortable."

"I actually just thought less hair would be more aesthetically pleasing."

"You're easy on the eyes, either way, Matt," she said. Her hand ran through his hair, down his face, through his stubble until she found his covered chest. She opened three more buttons, just enough to reveal the first half of his chest. The skin was smooth, moisturized, and shaven. He had freckles. They weren't just limited to his perfect nose. He had them everywhere, the top of his chest, his back. The little things she paid attention to were the most beautiful.

He smirked. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. Perhaps I will miss a day or two now that I know you like my body hair so much."

"I don't think I'd be able to survive." She sighed dramatically. "It'd be the death of me."

"That bad, huh?"

"The perfect wet dream. Don't make me think about it, you're making me horny again."

Matt pulled his dress pants up by the belt, laughing at the cute nonsense she was spilling. He pushed her foot away when she tried to pull him back into her. She whined.

“I have to go,” he said. 

“Can’t you stay for five more minutes?”

“Sweetheart, if we start this, it’s gonna take longer than five minutes, and I’ve already dragged this on for longer than I should have.” 

“I don’t care.”

“Fisk’s lawyer is gonna kill me.”

“Just tell them your driver was late or something. Please,” she reached for his small waist, “I need you.”

She had never begged for anything before in her life, especially not for this. 

He kissed her, sighing into her mouth. She kissed back harder, pushing her tongue against his. He didn’t have much of a choice. Not without a cold shower first. She made out with him painfully slow, hands caressing his sides, trying to get under his dress shirt. She made work of the buttons, trying not to ruin them, but she was this close to tearing the fabric apart. 

“I haven’t felt this free in years,” she breathed against him. “I haven’t felt like anybody found me beautiful for so long, I started to believe that I’m just not worth it.” She moved his hands back to her breasts. He kept them there, squeezing slightly. “And you’re right,” she stopped to moan, “I let the men in my life use me because I believe I don’t deserve better. I just… I’m desperate here, Matt. I’m desperate because I have nothing left to lose, and if I’m not close to you, I’m sure I will break apart. You make me forget about all of this. Please, Matthew.”

This was the first time in all of her existence that she was begging to be loved, just once, just one more time. She had never needed assurance more than at that moment. He was the only person she believed when he told her she was beautiful. He was the only person she could fall into and not care about how she looked or sounded. Matt judged people on a deeper level. He judged them by all the non-superficial things. He wasn’t objective. He could see a person’s soul, almost like she did, and so his judgment was often right. With him, she could breathe. That had never happened before. 

He cocked his head. If he took a cab instead of the bus, he still had some time to spare. And he couldn’t say no, not when she sounded so sweet. She was asking him to take care of her. It was new. Eliza hated to admit when she needed someone, which only proved how serious this had to be. 

Matt grabbed her chin rather firmly. “Hey,” he said. “You’re so beautiful, don't think any less of you.” 

“Show me,” her voice was barely above a whisper. “Show me how beautiful I am.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“Don’t leave me alone with my thoughts.” 

It broke him, and not in a sexual sense. He wasn’t quite sure if acting on her wishes was a bad idea; she agreed to it, but she seemed oddly emotional, even for her, and he didn’t want to take advantage of that. 

“I can’t take you with me,” he said. 

“But you can put your dick in me.”

His breath stuttered. “Sorry?”

“You heard me.” The grin on her face was cocky. “Unless you don’t want to.”

But he had already opened his belt buckle again. “I hate you so much,” the words turned to grunts.

He felt the pattern of the leather, then attempted to look at her. He couldn’t ask her that. They slept together once. Sure, she was kinky, extremely so, and he was so glad to finally have found someone who was more than ready to entertain what he liked, but this was something not made for the second time.

Still, he licked his lips and he wondered what it might be like to tie her hands behind her back while burying his cock to the hilt inside of her from behind, ass bouncing as he kept thrusting to fill her up with his cum, breeding her, marking her.  

And he was instantly hard again. 

She pulled him closer, but he stopped her before she could kiss him again. He hoisted her up in his arms, legs wrapped around him as he made his way into the kitchen, a higher surface than the table only a few steps away. The marble of the kitchen counter was cold against her bare backside once he set her down, and he easily slipped between her thighs, repositioning her so she was as close to the edge as possible without falling. 

Eliza tried to open the button and the zipper at the same time. "Oh, fuck me," she grumbled. His slacks, more expensive than anything else he had in his possession, had a mind of their own. They didn't seem to want this as much as she did and it was frustrating. if someone had told her before that she would get angry at a piece of clothing simply because she was desperate for some dick she probably would have laughed.

"Hey, don't ruin my pants," he said. The amusement was clear in his eyes.

"Don't tell me what to do," she bit back. Finally, the button budged and she managed to slide the zipper down. She shoved the last barrier between them below his ass, just enough to help his cock out of it. She didn't need much more.

His erection poked her stomach. She sighed, almost proud of herself for getting him this far. “Is this okay?” he asked between kisses. 

She nodded. “Yes.”

He hooked her leg around his waist. “Tell me, what do you need?”

“I need you, Matt.”

“And what do you need me to do?”

“Fuck me,” she said with an almost frustrated groan. “Just fuck me, please.”

Her desperation made him smile. “Breathe,” it was the only warning he gave before he thrust into her with one smooth move of his hips. 

She moaned loudly. He split her open, but unlike the night before, he didn’t care much about taking his time to enter her. Once he bottomed out though, he groaned into her neck and he stayed there. Arms on the counter, hands placed above each other behind her to cage her in, to hold her there, making more than sure she wouldn’t hurt herself. He gave her time to adjust. It was still a surprising stretch, though she was way more relaxed than the first time, which made it easier for him to bury himself to the hilt inside of her. She was so warm, her pussy hugging him so tight, he was convinced that if she moved, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. And Matt wasn’t prone to finishing too early. 

Eliza dug her nails into his shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked her, and she bucked her hips forward, hoping it was answer enough. The dark locks he kept groomed but never fully shaved grazed against her clit. An arm reached around her waist. 

“Matt,” she begged. 

“You need a minute," he said.

"No, I'm fine."

"Trust me. Let me stay here a little longer. Just a minute."

She clenched down on him. 

“God, I love it when you do that.”

“What?” she teased, chasing after the bare skin of his torso, pressing her lips everywhere she could find. “This?” She clenched around him again.

He grunted. “Yeah, that.” He reached for her face from where her lips were sucking at his erect nipples.

She tilted her chin up to take his invitation to kiss her. He bunched her hair in his hands; it was wild and free and it was getting in the way of touching her completely. Nails scratched across his torso. Her hips bucked again, this time out of instinct.

“You need me to move?” he asked.

His breath shuddered. “Please.”

“How would you like me to move?”

“Oh, are you kidding me,” the last part of the sentence got swallowed by his mouth.

Matt brought his hips back, pulling out slightly, then thrust forward. He split her open agonizingly slow and she wasn’t having any of it. He chuckled against her throat, her neck thrown back in ecstasy because while his pace was annoying, it felt too good not to enjoy it while it lasted.

He didn’t expect her nails to dig into his ass, pulling him close and deeper into her pussy, and then she pulled at his cheeks until he had almost completely pulled out. He followed her movements with his senses intently, curious about her approach.

He cocked his head to the side. “What are you doing?” he wondered out loud.

“I need you to do something, Matt. Anything, just... don't just stand there,” she said, and she hid her face in his chest to hide the blush of embarrassment on her cheeks. “We’re either playing twenty questions or you’re fucking me. We can’t do both.”

“Alright, all you had to do was ask.” He captured her lips with his. “Smartass.”

“Yeah,” she kissed him back, “But you love it.”

He chuckled. "Are you sure?" It quickly turned into a giggle, which made her bite back a moan. He was cute and it wasn’t supposed to turn her on but it did. “Here,” he hummed, reaching for the thigh on his right to rest straight against her chest, but he didn’t throw her entire leg over his shoulder, he just angled the limb impossibly high, still supported by his broad chest and hands as he pushed into her.

“Oh, fuck!” She threw her head back.

“Yeah, where did that smart mouth of yours go now, huh?”

She groaned, pulling at his hair. Their lips met. It was hot, tongue and teeth clashing, and she took his breath away.

He started with slow, deep strokes. The squishy walls of her pussy had a vice grip on him. He didn’t have much of a choice but to comply with what her body told him. She wanted faster and deeper, but not harder. Not this time. She wanted him as close as humanly possible, kissing his lips, and playing with his tongue. She tasted her juices on him still, the faint scent of the cum on his pants sending her into a space where she felt like an addict all over again. 

“You feel so good.”

The blood rushed to her cheeks. Eliza moaned, feeling her muscles tighten around him. He sighed, this was perfection.

She arched her back and his hand found its way back to her throat. He didn’t choke her this time, he just made sure she didn’t injure herself. On the kitchen counter, that was a possibility he didn’t want to explore. 

Her fingers pulled at his already messed-up hair as he bit down on her shoulder, kissing along her collarbone and sucking a purple mark into her soft skin. She still tasted like him. He moaned, the palm of his hand moving between them to rest over her lower stomach. 

“You feel that?” he asked. He pushed down and she cried out, feeling his cock underneath her skin. 

Her foot dug into his ass. His hips snapped against hers. Skin slapped against skin, low moans, and heavy breaths caused the windows to fog with condensation. His dress shirt was soaked with sweat, and hair fell into his face, and she pushed them back behind his ears.

Matt grabbed a fistful of her hair to yank her back. “You think you can take another one?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” she choked out. 

“C’mon. I’ve got you.” He took one of the hands from around his neck and slid it between them. "I want you to touch yourself."

Her breath hitched. "What?"

"Use your hand. Touch yourself for me. You can do it."

"I don't know how..."

"Yes, you do." He helped to circle her fingers against her clit. His hand around her wrist eased after she found a rhythm that she enjoyed, and he pulled away to touch the rest of her. "There you go," he praised into her ear. “I can feel that you're getting close.”

Her head was spinning. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, she could only smell his skin, taste the sweat in the air and feel every last inch of his cock stretching her out in the most delicious of ways. Her fingers kept drawing circles on herself. It was almost enough to make her combust.

She whined, “I need more.”

He was biting at her earlobe then. “What do you need?” he cooed.

“More,” she said. Not getting the hint, he listened to the way her heart raced, analyzing the twitching of her muscles. She reached for the arm he kept around her, forcing his hand to her neck.

He hesitated, fingers only brushing the skin slightly. “You’re already bruised.”

“I don’t care,” her tone was firm.

Matt was fighting an internal battle. Of course, he wanted to, but he was scared. He didn’t want to hurt her. She wasn’t fragile. She was stronger than him, could heal faster than him, yet he couldn’t help but see her as fragile glass that could break at any moment, and he was scared of the day it might actually happen. He didn’t want it to be at his hand, though there was nothing he craved more than to feel her pulse jump beneath his fingers.

He let the Devil take over. His grip knocked the air out of her lungs in the most literal sense of the phrase. He squeezed tightly, cutting off her air supply for several seconds before releasing her neck. It was just what she needed. Her eyes rolled back into the back of her head and she was so close, she was whining and crying, but it felt too good, too real, and the lack of oxygen made her feel like she was on top of the world. It was like the perfect opioid high. She couldn’t feel a thing but him and the way her body struggled to keep up with the inhuman amount of pleasure that was unleashed on her. She didn’t need air when she had him. He could breathe for the both of them.

Her head rolled back, fingers stopping their movements on her clit. She enjoyed the feeling of his fingers around her throat. It was all she could focus on. She jolted when he pushed two fingers past her lips, allowing her to suck on them. They were gone way too fast, replacing her own on the sensitive skin between her legs, just above where his cock kept disappearing inside of her.

She was useless. Not a single thought to be uttered in her mind, no words, only obscene sounds that came strangled. She called him names and it was pathetic; it was so pathetic, she wanted to die, but at the same time, she had never wanted to live more. He owned her. He could have asked her all kinds of things and she would have done them, not even questioning his intentions. He had that kind of control over her mind and especially over her body. She was addicted now, there was no way of recovering from that.

“Look at me,” she heard him say. A soft command. She opened her eyes, exhausted, but she managed. “Good girl. Look me in the eyes, come on.” She blinked to meet the brown of his eyes. Heaven was only a footstep away.

“Can you cum for me?” he nuzzled his nose against hers. “Hm? Can you be good one last time?”

She nodded.

“Always so eager to please.” He chuckled, but he couldn’t hide the fact that this was affecting him as well. “Go on then. Make daddy proud.”

Her thighs locked around his hips. He just so caught her before she could split her head open on the counter. Her walls contracted around his cock. He held the back of her head, leaning over her, and the sweet sound of her moans into his ear was enough to send him over the finish line.

He came with a quiet shout of her name. The hot white of his cum coated her walls and she held him even tighter as he released everything he had to give inside of her, milking him for all he was worth. 

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Taking me so well. Fuck. Letting me fill you up. So good.”

“Fuck!” she felt him dripping out of her. 

He rode out his high with slow, hard thrusts until he had given all he was capable of, and her walls were completely filled with his spend.

There was a moment of silence between them, only their uneven breathing filling the air. Their heartbeats aligned until they managed to calm down, still pressed close to each other, hugging over the kitchen counter.

He lifted himself on his forearm, smiling lazily down at her. “Hi,” he said. 

She stroked his sweat-soaked brow. “Hi,” she replied. 

He pulled out of her with a small whine. Slowly, as if trying not to hurt her, he used the hand behind her head to help her sit up straight. Her legs were shaking. She tried hard not to show him, but as soon as he unhooked himself from her, he caught the way her thighs vibrated on the kitchen counter. She couldn’t even press them together. It made him incredibly proud of himself.

Matt dipped his finger into the line of cum trickling down the inside of her thigh. She watched curiously as he moved back up. His eyes were dark, darker than usual, and his pupils were blown wide at what he was about to do. 

Eliza choked on nothing when she felt him remove the necklace around her throat. The golden cross pressed into her thigh, covered in his released and partly her own. He traced it up her skin, leaving a sticky trail of cum behind. It pooled around the metal. 

“God, forgive me,” he said. 

He used two fingers to stuff the cross covered in his cum back inside of her, penetrating her already sensitive walls with his thick digits and the foreign object. She would never get it back, at least not for her to wear. 

She choked out a broken moan. Her thighs shut. His bicep got trapped between them, fingers still buried inside. She tried to keep him there. She was so full, so warm, she needed him to stay. Her head fell back in absolute bliss. 

Matt kept on slowly fucking his cum into her with the necklace and two thick fingers penetrating her, guiding the crucifix where it needed to be.

He pulled out to drag the tip over her clit. She sobbed. “Matt, this is not a good idea- Ah!” Her walls clenched around his finger. 

“Are you-“ he raised his eyebrows. “You’re so sensitive, fuck!” He began to thrust his fingers faster, the cross cold against her clit. He moved it in circles, in awe at how fast he had her on the edge again. Her pulse was racing. She was the only thing left on his mind. “I bet you’re gonna cum again for me, aren’t you?” he said almost mockingly. 

She nodded. “Fuck!” Her hips met the movements of his fingers. He wasn’t even completely inside of her, but the sight of the crucifix on her pussy and his fingers disappearing between the red walls of flesh, squelching with the wetness she released, was enough to build the inevitable orgasm.

He should have known this was going to happen. 

“I think you’ll need to repent for that,” he whispered into her ear. “I think you might need to pray a whole lot of Hail Marys for what you’re doing right now. I think you should confess.” He pushed the necklace harder on her clit, starting to move in circles. “Do you know how to do that, hm?”

She gasped against his plump lips. “Yes.”

“Then do it!”

“Oh,” – he curled his fingers – “Fuck me, Father, for I have-“

“No,” he stopped his movements. “That’s not how it goes. I hope to God himself you’re not asking him to fuck you for your sins.”

“Jesus-“

“No, not him either. You know,” he began to pull out, “If you’re gonna be blasphemous, at least moan my name.“

Panic spread in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Matthew,” she said. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Then confess.” He started moving his fingers again.

“Fuck! Forgive me Father for I have sinned…”

Matt smirked. “That’s it, that’s my girl. What do you have to ask forgiveness for, baby?” 

“For using the lord’s name in vain?”

“Yes. What else?”

“For… for not taking him seriously. Oh, fuck!” He brushed over her g-spot, “Right there.”

“That’s not what I’m waiting to hear,” he said, thumb joining the crucifix. “C’mon, say it. I know you want to.” 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” – this was turning her on so fucking much, she wanted to combust, but she knew better than to cum without his permission – “For tainting the lord’s name and putting shame on all of Christianity by fucking this… fuck! Stupid crucifix.”

“And do you like it?” He curled his fingers again to hit her sweet spot. She grabbed onto his shoulder. “Do you like having it on your clit, along with my fingers inside of you, curling up,“ he demonstrated, “just like that?” 

“Yes!”

“Say it. Say you love it.”

“I-“ her eyes rolled back. “Fuck, yes!”

He clicked his tongue. “Ah, not what I was asking.” 

She had her hand wrapped around his wrist, but he wouldn’t let her thrust against him. His body towered over her, locking her in place. 

“Say it, sweetheart, or I’m compelled to stop. Do you love being fucked like this? Do you love to use God for your pleasure like the dirty little whore you are?” 

“God, yes, I love it! I love it so much.”

“Dirty girl.” He leaned in to kiss her. 

She desperately sought some friction, lifting her hips. “What’s my sentence, father?”

Oh, that makes so much more sense now. Matt growled. He removed the cross from her clit and shoved it back inside of her, listening intently to the sound it made twisting against the walls of her pussy. His thumb returned to rubbing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Cum,” was all he said. 

She gushed all around his fingers and the crucifix, leaking onto the kitchen counter. He buried his head in her neck as she leaned against him, releasing the filthiest sounds directly in his ear. 

Eliza whimpered when he didn’t stop pounding into her. He cut her off. “Shh. Just making sure you won’t forget me while I’m gone.” 

Matt made use of her slack jaw, shoving the necklace back between her lips. The taste was almost too much to bear. When he took it back out, it was dripping with her saliva, still slightly white from the cum she hadn’t been able to lick from the edges. 

He scoffed mockingly. “Would you look at that?”

“Oh,” she moaned, “We’re going to hell.”

“We all are.” He lowered his head to slip the necklace over. It left a wet patch from where it was now dangling around his throat, the pendant pressed to his chest with the slick. “Blasphemy has never smelled so fucking good.”

“Are you gonna tell your priest about this?” 

“No,” he chuckled. “This is only for me to remember and I will now, every time I pray.” 

Matt could smell her, he could taste her. Sweet, sweet torture he brought upon himself. By the time he finished getting dressed, Eliza had cleaned most of the mess they made. He followed her movements, sticky thighs, sweaty skin - she was perfect. The dress shirt was still dangling off her shoulders, torn apart, and the rest of her was completely bare to him. 

She caught him staring from the door frame. “What?” self-consciousness laced her voice. 

“Nothing,” he waved her off. Hands slipped underneath the dress shirt, grabbing her butt. “I was just thinking, maybe you should put on some clothes before Foggy comes over. Not that I can blame him for eye-fucking you, but it's not for him.”

“Not fond of sharing, are we?” she teased.

He chuckled. “Not really, no.” His hands released her butt, allowing her to find even footing again. “Especially not with Foggy.”

“Oh, anyone you would be comfortable with?"

"Well, there is this guy who wears Devil horns at night. He likes to enforce justice with his fists, puts bad guys behind bars. I heard he has a great butt, too.”

"Really?" she played along. "I don’t think I know a guy like that.”

“Oh, you don’t?”

“No.”

“He likes to wear red or something, I don’t know, I can’t see, but he’s been rumored to have put Wilson Fisk behind bars. He destroyed the Yakuza, did all of these super cool hero things… c’mon, you know him.”

“Hmm. Do you mean Daredevil?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"And you would share me with him?"

"Only him," he said.

"Hm,” – he caught her devilish grin with a frown – “so why is Foggy coming over again?” 

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you. I put him on Eliza duty.” 

She reached around him, over the waistband of his fresh slacks, and then smack! 

“Hey!” Matt glared. 

Eliza only sighed in relief. “I always wanted to do that.” 

“You know, I thought you were gonna fix my tie.” He bit back the smirk threatening to form. “Since you pride yourself on being so good all the time.”

She only squeezed his ass again. There were no words in the existence of the English language to explain what it felt like. It was even better than looking at it. He had the perfect ass. 

He broke out into laughter. “You done?” he asked.

“No.”

“You can feel my ass whenever you want, sweetheart. In fact, I encourage you to do so, but I really need to get going now.”

With one last smack, she released him. Her eyes narrowed down on his hip. “I’m coming back for you,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “You’re a lost cause.”

Grinning, she wrapped her arms around his neck to fix his tie, like he originally wanted her to. “So, what’s Eliza duty?” she questioned.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself in trouble. So I called him,” he said, placing his signature red glasses on his nose, “Uh, he’s gonna walk you through all the files we have on Fisk and you can help him get on the same page we are, so things will be easier from here on. Once he knows everything, I mean.” 

“Does he know what you’re planning to do now?” 

“Not exactly.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I was gonna pursue a lead, I just didn’t tell him where.”

“Oh, Matt.”

“Hey,” he said, “I’m gonna be fine.” 

She breathed in his scent. He must have showered. “Please, be careful,” she said. 

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “See you later, bug.”

Bug. 

“What did you just call me?”

But the door shut without an answer, and she was left pondering the one question that should have been answered before they did what they inevitably ended up doing; what did all of this even mean?

[karlheinz-sama]

Diabolik lovers Headcanons

Yuma had a K-pop phase it's gone now, but this man still remembers the entire choreo of fancy. You know damn well he stanned Twice, BIGBANG, and Triple H

Reji hates the mail because once he made the mistake of opening the triplets mail, he's also very passive aggressive when writing letters to the church.

Like he's dissin tf outta them but in a gentle manly way

Ayato has never once had a successful school picture, throughout immortality all of his yearbook photos look shit.

Sometimes Yui will watch parents play with their kids in the park whilst walking home, and well she cries cuz it's healthy for her and she's sad

Everyone and I mean everyone in that household, has had a breakdown to mitski at LEAST once. Regardless sober or drunk.

Yui once smacked a fangirl, none of the boys know the reason they've tried everything but her lips were sealed. Turns out she was a regular bully who thought laito was better than ayato so she called ayato the r- slur and yui as his tutor went into strict nun mode and smacked this bitch.

Ayato and kanato cannot dress themselves, so laito shops for them he knows their tastes so well he doesn't even have to tell them he brought something new cuz the clothes fit right in.

Of course laito messes around once in a while and made ayato wear a panda onsie for three weeks.

The mukami brothers aside from ruki genuinely thought Hogwarts existed and always wanted to go.

Laito was saying shit about God so Yui started doing pagan witch rituals ( I have a headcanon she just knows about all types of religions, she liked researching) to piss him off, like you said no Christianity now deal with Aphrodite's bullshit. She even gets ayato to put an alter for Dionysus in his room.

Reiji was real busy once, and he didn't say anything to his brothers for a week, and everyone panicked because he hadn't insulted Shu yet, hadn't corrected ayato nor laito. So kanato started crying cuz he thought reiji was leaving more so about reiji wouldn't make him food anymore.

Laito followed straight tiktok until he realised some of them were pedos

Ayato makes edits of himself

Yui like cuddling, like she will just cradle you next to her unconsciously. So obviously ayato takes every chance he can get to be cradled by her.

Ayato once beat Reiji in chess by being stupid whilst reiji was overthinking but no one believes him.

Kou had a VSCO girl phase

Azusa gives great massages, he gives his brothers massages all the time cuz of how much work they do.

Ayato can paint really well, if he focuses he can make some real good shit, but he thinks it makes him look soft so he doesn't ( sakamaki boys are deffo pro masculinity)

Laito on the other hand will wear sparkly eyeshadow and eyeliner cuz he feels like it.

Shu is a great big brother when helping with hang overs because he's measured the pros and cons and this seems better.

Yui is an absolute make up and clothes guru she's spent enough time with laito and kou for that matter, Kou's manager once tried to hire her cuz she knew exactly which clothes would look best.

Yui is immune to pretty boy scams because of the boys she just so used to being around pretty people she quite frankly can't give a fuck.

[mollygetssherlockcoffee]

For You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N waits all night for Spencer to come home

Warnings: Angst... maybe swearing, but I honestly can’t remember

Words: 2,451

A/N: My LPC and Masters are kicking my ass... I hate it here :)))))))

PART TWO HERE  PART THREE HERE

Master List     Permanent Tag List

Shoving the last Dorito in your mouth, you leaned off the couch to grabbing your phone from the coffee table. Your thumb swiped across the screen to accept the call. Muting the TV, you sat up and put the call on speaker, smiling as you heard his voice.

 “Hey, Y/N/N” Your boyfriend of three years greeted you.

“Spencer” you smiled into the phone, more than happy to hear from him. “I didn’t speak to you yesterday, I missed you.”

“Yeah, sorry, we caught a break in the case” he apologises. “Did you know, only ten-point-seven percent of murders are committed by women, who tend to kill for reasons such as personal gain or jealousy. Our unsub actually went against the statistic.”

“So, you caught them then?” you asked, biting your lip to conceal your hope.

“Yeah, yeah, we did!” he confirmed, and you were sure that he was nodding. “We’re at the station at the moment but we should be leaving soon. I’ll be home around-” There’s a moment of pause while you assume he looks at his watch. “Around seven, seven-thirty. Definitely no later than eight.”

“Oh, Spencer, that’s great!” you grinned, standing up from the couch. “This week has dragged by without you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon” he assures you. “I have to go though, there a bit of paperwork that needs to be finished before we can leave.” “Okay, no worries. I love you, bye” you say.

“See you soon, love you” he hangs up.

 You turned of the TV and quickly got to work cleaning the apartment. It wasn’t dirty, not really, but your breakfast dishes were in the sink and you didn’t take the trash out last night. You had also neglected putting away the laundry and had thrown your coat and bag over the back of a chair, rather than hang them up.

 Coming home to an empty apartment had demotivated you this week, making you not bother to keep up with the little things. Though you always missed Spencer when he was away on cases, this week had been especially trying.

 You hung your coat up, moving your keys into the little bowl by the door. The laundry was seen to next, the tops separated and hung up while the pants were neatly folded and placed in the draws. Plates were quickly cleaned and dried, put into their place. You wiped down the sides, brushing the crumbs into the bin before quickly running the trash out.

 Coming back into the apartment, you washed your hands before moving to the fridge. Having only went shopping a few days ago, it was still well stocked, and it had all the ingredients for Spencer’s favourite meal.

 You had grown up with a dad who loved to cook, who had wanted to be a chef. Due to his severe eczema, which he used to tell he had to be ‘wrapped up like a mummy’ for, he was unable to pursue his passion. As such, he had cooked delicious meals at home for you and your mom, passing on recipes and filling you with a passion for food.

 Cooking was something you found relaxing. You knew enough recipes by heart to not follow a recipe, but, instead, a pattern within your mind. You could cook your favourite dish without the need to measure herbs or spices, mind zoned out while you prepared the ingredients.

 When you had began dating Spencer, he was basically living on coffee with the occasional take-out. Within two months of your relationship, his freezer was fully stocked with frozen home-cooked meals. While his slim physique remained, he did gain a healthy amount of weigh and appeared to look healthier.

 It hadn’t taken you long to find out that his favourite was a slow roasted rack of lamb, with rosemary roasted potatoes, butter roasted carrots, broccoli, peas and mash potatoes. You had served the roast lamb at Easter, where Spencer proceeded to spend nearly thirty minutes telling you about the origin of eating lamb at Easter.

 “It’s actually related to the Jewish Passover, from when the Egyptians painted lamb’s blood on doors during the plagues of Egypt. When some Jewish people converted, they caried on the tradition. In fact, in Christianity, Jesus…”

 Coming from a diverse background (various religions were practiced in your family, some married and converted, others converted, an adopted cousin kept practicing his religion, thus you celebrated many different religions) you knew the some of what he was saying. However, you loved to hear Spencer talk.

 Spencer could talk about anything and you would listen. You loved to hear his voice; the way his voice became higher when he got excited. You liked to lean back against the couch, your feet in his lap as he read to you. His voice lulled you into a calm and relaxed state, it put your mind at peace and made everything seem right in the world.

 You cleaned the lamb, patting it dry with paper towels become setting it on the chopping board. You trimmed the fat, leaving only a small layer which would cook and add flavour to the meet. Pouring a tablespoon of oil into your hands, you gently rub it into the lamb before adding the spices, careful not to overwork the meat.

 The meat was transferred into a dish before moved into the hot oven.

 You then moved onto the vegetables. You coated par-boiled potatoes with oil, salt, pepper and rosemary become adding them to the oven. Carrots were peeled and cut, put into a tin-foil bowl with a teaspoon of butter and a sprinkle of sugar. Folding the tin-foil closed, you slid that into the oven too.

 Potatoes were peeled, chopped and put on to boil. You cut the broccoli into smaller pieces and add them to a pot and put them onto boil too. Peas remained in a saucepan, covered in water, but you would turn them on in a little while.

 You grabbed the latest Doctor Who DVD that Spencer had brought the week previous. You put the first disk into the DVD player and set the box beside the TV. Leaving the screen on the menu page, you left the room and went for a shower.

 You looked at the clock again.

 20:37

 You sighed and looked down at your food which was damn near cold. Your stomach rumbled and you picked up your fork. You weren’t going to wait any longer. While the food is delicious, you don’t enjoy it. You don’t focus on the flavours as you chew and swallow, your mind focused on your thoughts.

 Where was Spencer?

 You had called his phone multiple times, but it had just rung out. You had called JJ, but she had left work before him. When you had phoned his work and spoken to his boss, Hotch had told you that Spencer had already left for the evening, and suggested you call Derek as they left together. Just like Spencer’s phone, Derek phone had rung out too.

 Finishing your food, you took your plate to the sink. Rising the plate, along with the pots and pans, you then filled the sink with bubbly water. Grabbing the sponge, you began to clean.

 Your mind was torn on whether to be worried or not. One the one hand, Spencer had said he’d be home – you checked the clock – over an hour ago but he still wasn’t here. He wasn’t at work and he wasn’t answering his phone. You bit your lip. Anything could have happened to him. There could be a problem with the subway, maybe he got injured on the way home, or something else could have happened.

 Spencer’s an FBI agent though and is licenced to carry a gun. Not to mention, he’s a literal genius. If he got into trouble, you had no doubt that he would either be able to get himself out or be able to contact someone to raise an alarm.

 Your mind told you that he was with Derek, that they were together and gotten distracted one way for another. They were like brothers, and easily got carried away and forgot about the time.

 Spencer had to be fine. He had to be.

Hanging his bag on its hanger, Spencer closed the door. He toed off his shoes, pulling his arms from his cardigan. It had been a long night, a long week, in fact, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed. He smiled at the thought of crawling into bed and curling around you, of cuddling into you and breathing in your scent as he fell asleep.

 Spencer used to love going on cases but after he met you, that changed. Now, he wanted to get them over and get home as soon as possible. He missed you every moment he was gone. He missed waking up with you, with your toes pressed into his leg as you sought out his warmth. He missed reading to you in evenings, gazing at your peaceful face as he spoke the words from memory. He missed the kisses before bed, the giggles you’d make when he would tickle your side as you both laid beneath the duvet.

 He walked down the small hallway and into the open-plan living room and kitchen. The first thing his eyes land on is the small dining table. His mouth parts a little as he looks at the single plate of food, a knife and fork beside it. it was his favourite meal but he knew it was stone cold, yet he remembered the taste and his mouth watered at the sight.

 You had cooked for him.

 His stomach began to twist as he turned towards the front room. The TV was on, displaying the menu for a DVD from his new Doctor Who collection, whose box sat beside the TV. Then he saw you, sitting on the couch and watching him.

 His stomach dropped. You had been waiting for him. You had cooked him his favourite dinner, put on his favourite show and were waiting for him. He had told you he would be home by eight, and it was nearing one-thirty in the morning. The guilt in his stomach twisted like a knife as you stood up.

 He knew you were mad; he could see it in the hard set of your jaw. He could also see the sadness swimming in your eyes as you looked at him. He had let you down, and he knew it wasn’t something you were easily going to forgive him for.

 “You said you’d be home at eight” your voice was low, soft, but he could hear the sadness in your words.

“Yeah…” he agreed, he had said that. He had promised that.

“Where were you?” you asked. “I was worried, you didn’t call or anything.”

“Erm… Derek, he…erm… wanted to go to a bar” Spencer replied, looking down at his mix matched socks.

“So you went? You went, knowing that I was here, waiting for you” you shook your head, looking away from him in an attempt to hold back your anger. “You went to a bar with Derek, after telling me you would be home by eight? You didn’t even let me know! I’ve been waiting for you, Spencer, I cooked you dinner and everything.” “Y/N… I’m sorry” he reached out to you but you held up your hand, taking a step back.

 He had gone to a pub. A pub. He didn’t even have the decency to call you, or even text, to say that he wasn’t going to be coming home when he said. He had left you to wait for him, to worry for him. And though you’ve hurt, you’re angry. Angry that this is the way he is treating you. He doesn’t even like pubs, so why would he leave you to go to one?

 This isn’t the first time he’s done this either. He had done the same thing a month ago, just went out with his team after telling you that he’d be home for dinner in an hour. You had fell asleep on the couch waiting for him that night.

 “You always do this to me” You shook your head, looking at him in disappointment. And, looking at your face, Spencer thought that was worse that seeing you angry.

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Abandoning me, you do it all the time!” You say. “You get called on a case and you don’t tell me, you leave me waiting at a restaurant. Stood up. You don’t tell me when your cases get extended, you tell me you’ll be gone two days but its six.”

“Y/N-” he begins, but you quickly cut him off.

“I don’t mind you going to clubs with Derek. I’m fine with cancelling plans because of work, I don’t mind that you’re called away” you tell him. “However, you don’t communicate with me. You stand me up, all the time. You don’t even call, and I’m tired of it. I did this for you Spencer.” You spread your arms out to gesture at the food and TV. “I try to do stuff for you and it goes to waste. Dinner reservations, movie nights, personal museum tours. They could have been rescheduled or the deposits refunded, if you had spoken to me. I… I’m tired of this Spencer. A relationship can’t work without communication.”

 Spencer’s mouth is dry at your words, his own eyes stinging as he gazes sadly at your face. He can see how much it has affected you, how hurt you are but his actions. You were right though, he never called or texted you to let you know he wouldn’t be there for any of those things. His mind played over your words and his stomach twisted as the final sentence registered in his brain.

 “What are you saying?” his voice is scratchy as he forces the words out, his fists clenched as he struggles not to cry.

“Maybe… Maybe we should take a break… for you to consider whether you can be committed, in all aspects, to this relationship” your voice is quiet as you answer him, your own eyes swimming with tears. “I’ll sleep in the spare room tonight, and then tomorrow… Well, Natasha said that I Could spend a few nights at hers.”

 Spencer watched as you turned away from him, walking towards the spare room. You didn’t look back as you closed the door, and, finally, the tears fell from his eyes. This was it, he had lost you because he failed to do the most simple thing in a relationship. You were leaving him.

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[thatsgay-writes]

Day 12

PREVIOUS

The days after finding water we're pretty chill, minus finding out that Jeanette's body was gone. There was still some obvious tension between you and Toni and Toni and Martha and Shelby. You hadn't really interacted with either Toni or Shelby in the past few days either, opting to hang around Fatin. You hadn't talked to Toni because you didn't know what to say after the argument the two of you had and you had revealed your feelings for her in front of everyone. Shelby on the other head, had seemed to be the one ignoring you... Well maybe not ignoring she was just very short with you which was totally against her personality. You all had also made a schedule, seeing as you were going to be here for a while. Everyone got one chore a day and every once and a while a day off. Today happened to be your day off and you were glad, your chest pains had been happening more often and that concerned you.

It also concerned you that you didn't know when you would be rescued. The hospital, who was against the retreat but couldn't exactly do anything about it, had given you medication to help with your problem. It was enough pills for three weeks, just in case, but they had been lost like the rest of your stuff. You had checked the pilot bag that held all the medical stuff you guys had but it didn't have what you were looking for either. You've managed to hide coughing up blood by coughing into the elbow of you red shirt or spitting it out while in the woods. You had also been losing your appetite, which has been harder to hide. You'd force down some food and pretend like it was a lot so the other wouldn't worry. But today, luckily, you were starving and prepared to fully eat whatever Rachel brought for food.

---

"Let's feast!" You hear a Rachel suddenly yell as she stand on top of a little hill, carrying what looks to be a big amount of food. You stood up and attached your leg before joining everyone around the fire. You watch, mouth watering, as Dot cooks all the mussels over the fire. When they're done cooking, the mussels are laid out in a big pile in the middle. Everyone stared at the pile wondering who will go first, since they all understood how little food they had been finding the past couple days. "Eat as much as you want guys, there was enough of them to fill 3 more bags. I just ran out of room." At Rachel's words you all dive in and eat the mussels, except for Shelby. "Why aren't you eating any?" Leah asks as she looks suspiciously at Shelby. Not this again. You think as you eat your tenth mussel, what could you say you were hungry.

"I'm actually allergic to shellfish. Ate one at a birthday party and my throat swelled up like a balloon." Shelby responded as she watched everyone else eat. "That's rough." You say as you grab 3 more mussels. "Damn y/n. Is it good?" Fatin asks jokingly as she grabs another mussels for herself. You roll your eyes and let out a chuckle as you flip her off before grabbing more food. "You know what this looks like..." Toni says, grabbing everyone's attention with a smirk. You mentally facepalm because you know exactly where this is going. "A pussy!" Nora yells out causing everyone to laugh, the girl had definitely come out of her shell more the past few days. Toni nods her head before licking the mussels shell provocatively. "I bet y/n knows what that feels like!" Dot yells out causing everyone to make an "ooo" sound like kids when their peer got in trouble. You and Toni's face both heated up at Dots words and you made sure to give her a hardy punch in the shoulder.

"Can you all stop!?" Shelby suddenly yells out causing everyone to freeze and look at her questioningly. "Shelby, chill out we are just having some fun." Dot says, not really understanding what all the fuss was about. "I am chill, I just don't find that very amusing." Shelby responded, her voice getting a little harsher when she says the word that. "What do you mean by that?" Toni asks as she send you a quick look and you almost immediately understood where this was going. The look was one you or Toni would give the other when known homophobes where in the area or if the two knew you were being judge for doing pda. Was this why Shelley had been short with you the past few days? You did not like where this was going and neither did Toni. "Just... pornographic gestures. I'm from a very Christian home and no one ever does things like that."

You wanted to believe Shelby, you really did, but it explained why you always felt this weird vibe from her. "Don't lie Shelby, I always knew I felt some sort of vibe from you, it's clear now what it was. Toni and I have felt that vibe enough times to know what you really mean." You say, glaring at Shelby. "What... What are you guys trying to say?" Martha asks getting worried now. She knew what you meant when you said vibe, you and Toni had both told her about it. "She's a fucking homophobe." Toni spits out glaring at Shelby. You nod you head in agreement, putting back the mussels you had picked up before all this started. Martha's eyes go wide and she sends a Shelby a pleasing look, hoping she'll deny what Toni had just said.

"Look..." Shelby says as she lets out a big sigh. "I have no hate in my heart for y'all. It was just that I was taught that that way of life is a sin." Toni immediately jumps up and point her finger angrily at Shelby, "Why you little..." Toni was too mad to even finish her sentence. Martha had dropped her head in disappointment and let Fatin wrap and arm around her in comfort. The rest of the girls were just watching as everything unfolded. "I feel sorry—" Shelby starts to say, digging her into an even deep hole. "Fuck you." Toni interrupts her before storming off, you nod your head repeatedly in agreement, not looking at anyone as you finish putting your leg on and following after Toni.

---

"Toni. Toni. Toni!" You yell as you follow the girl. "Goddamn leg... Goddamn sand..." You mumble as you follow Toni down the beach. Luckily, she does finally stop after she deemed that she was far away enough to breathe. Toni kicks the sand angrily, as she stares out into the water. "I can't fucking believe this, no I can I just hoped..." Toni trails off as she wraps her arm around herself. You walk up to her and wrap your arms around her in a comforting hug, "I know, I know..." "We just get so much shit at home..." Toni trails off as she lets herself relax into your hug. "I know." You say again because that's all you can say. You relax for a few minutes before you get hit with a sudden nausea.

"Oh fuck." You mumble out as you unwrap from around Toni and throw up near the two of you. "Y/n?" Toni reacts in shock as she watches you kneel over as you try and spit out the taste of vomit and blood. Toni ends up turning around to throw up as well. "I didn't know you were a sympathetic puker..." You try and joke as you take deep breathes and slowly lay in the sand, feelin exhausted from throwing up. Toni wiped her mouth before turning back around, "C'mon, we can't stay here the heat wont help at all." Toni says as she pulls you to your feet, trying to ignore how she slowly started feeling worse. Toni has to practically drag your body back towards camp. "Help!" She yelled out as soon as she saw people and Fatin came running over. She took your other arm and most of the weight so Toni could relax some.

Luckily, the other girls seemed to be doing better than you and Toni. Both you and Toni were splayed out on the ground with Martha sitting near by as the other girls moved around the camp doing whatever.  "Come on, lay on your side y/n." Martha mumbles worriedly as she listens to your labored breathing. Toni was at least a little more responsive and had tried to swallow water, while you didn't even react to someone moving your body. "Fuck, she's getting worse..." Dot said as she walked up to check on the three of you. "Where the hell is Leah with that medicine!?" Fatin almost yelled as she looked between you and Toni. Right as she said that, Leah broke through the tree line and ran towards Dot. "Why are they all dirty?" Dot yells out as she roots through the bag. "Only 2? I thought we had 3, I know we had 3!" Dot pulls out two tablets of halophen. "It's obvious who needs them the most." Shelby stated as she sat a little ways away from the group unfold. Dot bites her lip and looks at Martha, "Martha, you good?" "Yeah, I'll take a Pepto."

Dot nods her head and turns towards Fatin and hands her one of the tablets, "Figure out a way for her to take it." Fatin nods her head as she looks down at you. "Toni, I'm going to need you to take this." Shelby said as she took the other halophen tab from Dot. "I'm not taking shit from you." Toni says as angrily as she can. "It'll save your life Toni. Take the damn pill." "Should Shelby really be the one doing this." Rachel questions. "Am I not allowed to help her!?" Shelby says exasperatedly. She climbed on top of Toni and held her nose closed until she opened her mouth. As soon as she did, she stuff the pill in her mouth and covered it, forcing her to swallow. Shelby got off of Toni and turned her attention to you, ignoring how the other girls were looking at her.

"Have you gotten her to take it yet?" Fatin shakes her head no, "She's barely reacting to anything. I'm surprised she's still conscious." The girls sat silent for moment contemplating what to do. They start to panic when you cough up more blood. "Here, give it to me." Dot says as she snatches the tab and a nearby rock. She starts to crush the tab up as much as possible. "Just pour some in front of her nose and breath deep." The other girls don't really question Dot's idea and just follow what she says. "C'mon y/n, just one big breath and then you'll start to feel better."

---

You were leaning heavily against Toni as you and all the girls sat around the fire. You were still exhausted from today's earlier event. Luckily, they associated you coughing up blood to throwing up to much and you didn't have the heart to tell them otherwise. No one knew about what was wrong with you except for the people at the hospital and yourself. You were finally clear to sleep by Dot because she wanted to make sure the meds had actually worked and that you wouldn't fall asleep just to never wake up again. You were almost asleep when Toni suddenly stands up yelling Martha's name and running over to her. You shake yourself awake and shakily stand up to see what was happening. Your heart stopped when you noticed that Martha had fallen and made no attempts at getting back up.

"Toni you were dying!" "Who cares? I don't matter! fuck, I don't matter. I don't fucking matter."

NEXT

[stevesharrlngtons]

just a little downhill.

mickey x reader

summary: after a hard day of work, mickey comes home to a very unwelcome and unexpected guest: his little brother.

word count: 4.5k

a/n: mickey and his brother goodness! as briefly discussed, kevin’s face claim is pete davidson (: and if you’re curious, here is another discussion of mickey’s parents. i hope you enjoy and if you do, i’d love to hear it (:

Although Mickey had been out from under his parents order for years now, he never seemed to shake the responsibilities they had assigned him. 

When Mickey was old enough, with a high school diploma under his belt and not much else, he escaped two towns over to flee his parents and their needs. To, at the time, do his best to escape their overbearing asks and assumptions of him. He took very little when he fled in the night; a few articles of well worn clothing; his box of drugs and corresponding paraphernalia; an envelope of mementos of his relationship with you; and you, as well. You both escaped your grim situations with wild eyes and hearts, between flurried kisses and giggles, you made your way to your new lives. 

Now, all these years later, you both were still shacked up in your cozy ground floor apartment, with it’s warped tiles and shag carpets, and Mickey had never been happier. Sure, he worked a demanding manual labor job and he had few future prospects, but he was on his own and living with the woman he loved. To Mickey, there truly wasn’t anything better than that. He suspected he could be forsaken to any living conditions, demands or labor, but as long as he had you by his side, he would be happy as a clam. 

You were the one who kept him sane. The one who taught him how to float instead of thrashing in the water. The one who taught him the gentle caress of love. The one who was the only salve for any and all problems that were thrown his way. 

And when it came to his chaotic life, he needed your healing touch more often than he would like to admit. 

Because while the distance between him and his turbulent family offered excuses for why he couldn’t invariably swoop in and save the day, the milage didn’t often deter his parents from calling on Mickey whenever they needed something. Their expectations still held true no matter the separation.

Mickey was expected to come over and soothe tensions when their fights reached a volume to where the neighbors got involved. 

Mickey was expected to drop everything, no matter the circumstance, to help wrangle their old mutt whenever he escaped and began to terrorize the neighborhood kids.

Mickey was expected to drive the hour to their trailer whenever there was an appliance that needed fixing. Usually after his father had stormed off in frustration when he couldn’t do it himself. 

Mickey was also expected to fix a litany of other things that his parents refused to call in an expert about, but had no problem pawning it off on their son (even if he was no more qualified to fix things then they were).  

But above all, Mickey was expected to look out for his little brother. To watch out for him, and to take care of him when he couldn’t take care of himself. This had always been his most fervently requested task, and possibly the one he resented the most. 

And when he came home to find his fuck to of a little brother with his back against the brick siding of Mickey’s apartment building, a joint between his lips and his head angled toward the sun, he knew his everlasting duty to care for the kid was about to rear its ugly head once more. 

Today was just an exceptionally bad day for this to happen. 

Because before he even saw Kevin’s face, it had been a day where he had just wanted to come home, lay his head on your lap as you pressed delicate kisses to his skin. He needed to be enveloped in your soothing smell and coaxed into relaxation by your voice. He just needed you, because today had been awful. The last thing he needed was to deal with any member of his fucking family.

The day started off with the buddy he carpooled with burning a hole in his brand new seat cover on the way to work. Then it was announced that OSHA would be monitoring their site they were at for the morning, which meant nothing got done and the crew was way behind schedule. When lunch rolled around, Mickey dropped his sandwich on the ground, which caused his coworkers to start an uproar of teasing and laughter whenever he was around. And, of course, after he was already in their crosshairs, his drill decided to stop working, which only fueled the other mens mocking. 

And to make it all worse, his mother had been calling on a loop since noon. He refused to answer, not wanting to deal with her drunk ramblings or vicious criticisms, which just meant that the calls kept coming. Now that he thought of it, he was sure the sudden vibration in his pocket had been the reason he had dropped his sandwich in the first place.

Thanks mom. Fuck you.

“The fuck are you doing here, Kev?” Mickey grunted from around his cigarette as he approached his front door. 

“Didn't Ma call?” 

“I don’t answer her calls sober,” he shoved his key into the lock and pushed the door open with his shoulder.

As the door opened, Mickey cringed as Kevin quickly sprang to his feet and pushed past him into his home. He had expected it, but it still made his stomach drop as it happened. When Kevin planted himself somewhere, he was often hard to peel back up. Last time Kevin had come over to beg for money, he didn’t leave for four days, leaving a permanent lanky body print in Mickey’s couch. 

“Can’t really blame you for that,” Kevin chuckled as he collapsed onto the living room couch in a huff, “we didn’t invent The Scale for nothin’.” 

The Scale referred to the made up increment system the two invented in middle school on how high they had to be to pleasantly deal with their parents. Their mother was usually a Bill and Ted and their father was always at very least Cheech and Chong. The brothers sometimes would still refer to The Scale when they were going through a spurt of getting along. But this was not one of those times. 

Mickey hadn’t seen Kevin on an unencumbered social call in over two years. Kevin used to visit every weekend; to party, play video games or just spend time with his older brother; but now it was only under the guise of extorting money (that Mickey really didn’t have to give) or in a search of a place to crash while he was on the outs with their parents or whatever girl he was currently seeing. 

Because of his mother’s incessant calls and Kevin’s mention of her, he assumed it was the latter this time. 

“Yeah, well clearly you’ve already started,” Mickey grouched, as he tilted his head to the blunt that was still between his brother’s lips. 

Mickey was anything but a prude, but when his deadbeat brother came swaggering into his home with no humility or shame, smoking pot and bogarting his couch, Mickey suddenly turned into a stuffy Christian mother, sticking his nose up and huffing at the mention of any illicit substance. 

“Oh, I’m sorry man, you wanna hit?” Kevin asked, completely oblivious to his brother’s annoyance. 

“What are you doing here, Kev?” 

Kevin’s eyebrows raised at Mickey’s bluntness and whistled low under his breath, before settling back against the couch. 

“Take the stick out of you ass, Jesus Mick,” 

“I’m serious, Kev. What is it? Spit it out, I had a long fucking day. I don’t have the patience to deal with this.” 

“You sound like dad,” Kevin chuckled, smoke billowed from his mouth as he propped long legs onto the coffee table. 

His tolerance for Kevin running thin already, Mickey marched over to the couch and shoved his legs from the coffee table with haste. Kevin’s eyes grew wide with surprise and slight betrayal when he looked at his brother again. 

“I’m not fucking around, Kevin! (Y/N) is gonna be home any minute and I want you gone when she gets here,” Mickey raked a hand through his tousled locks and went in search of his work coat to find a new cigarette. 

“(Y/N) loves me,” 

“Yeah, because you prey on her kindness. Now tell me what it is or I’m calling dad to pick you up.” 

That seemed to scare him enough to reveal the reason for his visit.

“I need a job.” 

And there it was. Mickey let out an encompassing sigh as he turned his back to his baby brother. This wasn’t the first time Kevin had asked for a job, and Mickey doubted it would be the last. 

Others might applaud his brother’s initiative to better himself and search for personal contacts to find him work, but Mickey knew better. He had tried to help him get a job more times than he could count, and Kevin always did something to fuck it up. 

Whether it be never showing up, being high on the clock, failing drug tests or fighting with customers and coworkers, something always went wrong. Mickey had burned many a bridge to defend his brother from these employers, because no matter how insane Kevin made him, he was still his brother and he would be damned if anyone said a bad word about him. Other than him, of course. 

“Yeah? And what the fuck am I supposed to do about that?” Mickey challenged. 

“Talk to Stephen,” Kevin replied simply. 

“Fuck no!” Mickey almost laughed, “Man, I need this job, I can’t have you fucking it up for me.” 

“I won’t! I won’t fuck it up!” 

“Yeah, ok. Whatever you say, Kev.”

“I’m being serious!” 

“No, no way, dude. No, Kev. I can’t lose this job. I got bills and shit, now! Did you know you have to pay for garbage pick up at a place like this? Because I sure as shit didn’t! We can’t even bury it like dad did,” Mickey lectured, “and y’know what? I got a girl, one I’d really like to fucking keep. Which means actually keeping this stupid construction job to keep paying for fucking garbage. I can’t have you gettin’ us both canned.” 

“I’ve changed, Mick. I have!” Kevin reinforced when his brother rolled his eyes, “I’m twenty four now. I got like, perspective on stuff, and shit.” 

“Kev, -“ Mickey started, but didn’t continue as he heard a key in the front lock. 

Seconds later you appeared, hair piled high on your head and still adorning your work uniform. Even with his brother pissing him off and the weight of an awful day on his shoulders, Mickey couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread over his face when he saw you. Worn from a hard day and in your boxy hotel maid get up, you were still the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on. 

“Hey, baby,” Mickey said as he crossed the living room quickly to greet you. 

“Hi, baby,” you looked up at him, a similar lovesick smile on your lips as Mickey wrapped you in a crushing embrace. 

You craned your head back to capture his pouted lips in a kiss. They will tinged with more nicotine than usual, and you knew something was off before you pulled apart. Your hands had begun to inch toward Mickey’s nape when you heard movement on the couch. When you pulled away, you saw him

“Oh, hey, Kev. I didn’t see you there, honey,” you offered him a kind smile as you moved to rest your cheek on Mickey’s chest.

Mickey tried to keep the scowl off his face as his brother grinned at you. 

“How ya been, (Y/N/N)? Man, it feels like it’s been ages!” his brother charmed, pushing up from the couch to come meet you for a hug. 

When you pulled away from Mickey to do so, Mickey swore you were taking a part of his resolve with you.

“It has, you don’t come ‘round like you used to,” you said, parting from Kevin to smoothe your hands over his broad, boney shoulders. As you inspected Mickey’s baby brother, you spied something new, “this a new addition?” 

You poked the ridge of black ink peeking out of his t-shirt, just below his collar bone. 

“Awh, yeah. Yeah it is,” Kevin pulled down the collar of his shirt enough for you to see the tattoo that joined the ranks of his many others, “it’s the Brooklyn Bridge.” 

“Oh,” you said, a little surprised by the choice, but admiried it nonetheless, “I like it. It’s nice linework. Can’t say the same for the rest of ‘em, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, very funny!”

You winked up at him before you removed yourself from his orbit to return to Mickey’s. Though, on your way back to your man, you saw the firm look of displeasure on his face, and that face was directed firmly at his brother. You stopped in your tracks and traded glances between the two boys, one angry and one bashful, before you spoke. 

“Alright, what’s goin’ on?” 

“What do you think is goin’ on?” “Nothin’.” the brothers spoke in unison. 

You turned your gaze hard at Mickey. He let silence hang in the air for a long beat before he spoke.

“Kev is lookin’ for a hand out. But what’s new?” Mickey scoffed. He planted a swift kiss to the crown of your head before he walked past the both of you to the kitchen. 

“Hey, fuck you man! All I was asking for was help!” Kevin shot back, he turned quickly on his heel to face his brother. 

“I can’t give you any fuckin’ help, Kev! Look what I got,” Mickey waved widley, “there ain’t shit here to give!”

“You could give me your contacts, I could start sellin’ the shit you have left from -” 

“You aren’t taking my contacts and you’re not touching the shit I got from Georgia. That’s mine to do what I please with,” Mickey bellowed, yelling louder than you’d ever heard before, “I don’t need you fucking up the relationship I have with my clients, either.” 

“Clients,” Kevin said in a mocking, posh accent, “their fucking drug addicts!” 

“Yeah? And what the fuck are you, again?” 

“What the fuck am I? What the fuck are you, man?” 

The two had slowly begun to advance toward each other in their squabble, and now were only a pace apart. You knew if they were to get any closer, fists would be thrown. It wouldn’t be a good fight, neither boy had ever been good in physical altercations. The fight would likely consist of misthrown punches and cheap shot kicks, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want either to get hurt or take anything too far. 

“That’s enough!” you shouted over their bickering, “Mick, c’mon. Come talk to me in the bedroom, please.” 

Mickey’s angry expression faltered the moment he looked over Kevin’s shoulder at you, “Baby, I can handle this.” 

“Mickey. Bedroom. Now.” you had already started to head that way, and Mickey knew if he wasn’t right behind you, he’d be in deep shit. 

With a petulant sigh, he followed you down the hall to the bedroom and shut the door behind him when he entered. You had sat on the edge of the bed and Mickey found his place to slouch against the opposite wall. 

“I can’t deal with him, baby. I can’t deal with his bullshit anymore,” he said, defeated. 

“He’s your brother, Mick. You love him. And sometimes the people you love need more help than you do.” 

“But that’s the thing, he needs so much more. He takes and he takes and he takes, and somehow, he still needs more. I can’t give him anything else. No one can. He’s more of a fuck up than I am, and that’s saying something,” Mickey puffed. 

“You’re not a fuck up, Mick,” you frowned, your brows peaking with heartache. 

Mickey gave you a pointed look, “I kinda am. You don’t gotta sugar coat it.”

You stood from the bed and crossed the short space between you two. When you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and nestled close to his chest. Mickey accepted your embrace easily and gratefully. 

“You are not a fuck up, baby. You have a good job, you have a good life. You provide for me, for our little two person family. And you make me happier than I ever thought possible... you simply aren’t a fuck up because no man I love could be,” you smiled at the tail end of your sentence. 

You propped your chin on his chest like you had minutes earlier and looked deep into his green eyes, both soft and brimming with adoration. 

“I fucking love you so much, you know that?” he smiled, little crow's feet growing by his eyes as he did. 

“I do. And I love you, too.” 

Mickey sighed, relaxation soothing his muscles at the sound of your confession. He gently pressed your cheek back to his chest and reveled in the feeling of your body against his. 

“But really, baby, what are we gonna do about Kev?” you asked after a moment of calm. 

Mickey’s brows furrowed, the pressure behind them intense and blaring. 

“He’s not our problems, baby. He’s an adult.” 

“He is. But he’s also a sweet kid with a good heart, and he just needs some extra help. And I think we should try to help, at least the best we can.” 

Mickey’s head made a thud as he collapsed to the wall behind him, “baby, we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep bailing him out. We can’t keep bailing them out.”

The image of his parents popped behind his eyes, both fragile and gray and somehow even crueler than ever. He didn’t want to spend his life being their eternal whipping boy, cleaning up their messes when they couldn’t. And that included the mess they had made in his brother.

“This isn’t about them, alright? Fuck them, you know precisely what I think of your parents,” you frowned, and Mickey felt his heart pick up with pride at your protectiveness, “but you also know what I think about Kevin. He really is a good kid deep down. He’s talented. He just needs a little more support before he’s gonna feel comfortable jumping out on his own.” 

“He still drives me fucking insane…” Mickey retorted.

“He’s your little brother, of course he does.”

“Baby, he really does. You have no idea how much that little shit gets under my skin.”

“Oh, c’mon! You love him! He’s like, sad, high, tattooed Big Bird,” you giggled as you heard a grumble vibrate in Mickey’s chest. 

“Yeah? Well, then what am I?” 

You pulled away from him once more, but only far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“You’re like, strong, sexy, smart Big Bird,” you said, your voice a seductive purr as you placed a few chaste kisses to his jaw, “or Snuffleupagus.” 

Mickey’s face twisted in confusion and slight disgust, “why?” 

“Because he was always my favorite when I was a kid.” 

And his expression instantly extinguished into one of warmth and tenderness. Emerald eyes bathing you in liquid love. 

“You just never stop being cute, do you?” he grinned. 

“Nope,” you said, letting the work pop from your lips. 

He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead and took a deep breath of your pheromones; your sun bathed skin and your sweet smelling hair. And as he let his lips stay perched on your skull, he realized that he would do anything for you, no matter the request. He had had this feeling many times before; of his overwhelming and striking devotion to you; though it never ceased to rattle his swelling heart in his chest, and remind him the exact reason he was put on this earth: to make you happy. 

So, if you wanted him to try and help Kevin, then he would. It was the least he could do for all the happiness and love you brought to him. 

But, if he was being honest with himself, there was always going to be a part of him that wanted to nurture his baby brother in any way he could. 

Somewhere in his mind and his heart, Kevin would always be the small blushing bundle handed off to him in a dingy hospital room. It was one of his first formative memories, his little brother wrapped in a white blanket as his mother’s groggy eyes looked upon both of them. Mickey had never held a baby, let alone a newborn, and the tiny writhing creature looked very strange to him, red and angry and crying.

A month before Mickey’s mother would give birth to Kevin, their father had stormed out of the house, and by the time her water had broken he had still yet to turn. So pained and afraid, his mother had piled Mickey in the car after her and drove them both to the hospital. A cigarette in one hand, while her other gave the steering wheel a death grip. As she groaned with contractions and cursed at the traffic, she said something to him that he never forgot: 

“You are the real man of the house, Mickey-honey,” she said in her graveled voice, “this little boy is always gonna look up to you. You gotta live up to that.” 

And that message had bounced around between his ears as his mother, alone and in extraordinary agony, gave birth to his brother. Who as he had held him in his tiny spindly arms, Mickey knew that he would keep him safe forever. No matter what.

A part of that soul promise to his blood now seemed to be finding Kevin a job to keep him afloat. To keep him out of trouble and away from falling down the path their parents had. He honored past his past self in that moment, continuing on with the pledge to keep his brother safe. 

“Fine,” Mickey muttered to your skin, “we’ll help ‘im.” 

“Really?” 

Mickey simply shrugged. 

You moved your hands from where they had been secured behind his waist to come and cradle his cheeks, “you’re a good man, Mick.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he played off, eyelids fluttering. 

“The best man I know,” and you kissed him tenderly, the soft feeling of your lips electrifying him.

He hummed when you pulled away, but with more anguish than pleasure. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Mickey said. He quickly untangled himself from you and exited the bedroom before you could even process your post kiss haze. 

“Kev,” Mickey called, finding his brother laying down on the couch now, the television remote in his hand as he flipped channels, “get the fuck up.” 

“Hey, woah, listen Mickey, alright? I’m sorry! I am, I’m sorry,” Kevin began, stammering nervously. 

Mickey could tell that his brother was trying to save face. That he was trying to bargain for his help, and that he believed that Mickey was coming back to tell him to leave and never come back. But he didn’t stop him, Mickey thought Kevin deserved to squirm a bit. 

“I know I’ve fucked up, like really fucked up over and over again. But I got this this time, ok? I’m like, I’m ready for, I don’t know, a fresh start. I’m ready to do better.” 

Mickey simply crossed his arms as his brother stared up at him with heavy set brown eyes. They were flickering around the room, scared to look at his older brother who loomed over him. Mickey was sure he was searching for you, knowing he could always grovel at your feet for sympathy. 

“Fuck! What am I supposed to say, stop being such a-“ but Kevin stopped himself before he finished, knowing it likely wasn’t smart to start name calling the person he was asking a favor of. 

“No, no, continue. What am I being? Hm?” Mickey raised an eyebrow. 

Kevin’s jaw tightened, “.... a really, good guy.” 

His pained voice would have made Mickey laugh if he wasn’t wearing a stoic persona. It reminded him of when Kevin was forced to apologize as a child, their dad’s hand pulling up his ear as he spat out an apology. 

“Imma ask around, alright? Been hearing about some landscape work a buddy of mine has been talking about. I’ll call you tomorrow.” he finally said, putting his anxious brother out of his misery. 

“No shit?” Kevin asked with a suspicious lilt. 

“No shit. And if you get the fuck out of my house in the next five seconds, I might even put in a good word for you.” 

“Fuck,” Kevin exhaled, his body deflated like a balloon against the cushion, “you have no idea-“ 

“Nope, I don’t,” Mickey interjected, “and I don’t want to. Now fuck off, dude. My lady is home and I don’t need you here.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright!” Kevin said as he was shooed off the couch and to the door, “thank you, (Y/N/N), you hear me, babe?” 

You heard the commotion from the bedroom and popped your head out to watch Mickey escorting Kevin out. Stripped down from your uniform and now bundled in a pair of Mickey’s thread bear sweatpants and his favorite Scorpions t-shirt. 

“You look gorgeous, by the way! So good, does Mickey tell you enough?” Kevin had widened his gangly limbs in the door frame to keep his brother, who was shoving him quite hard, to stop him from leaving. 

“He does, Kev. I promise,” you grinned at the brotherly exchange as they threw jabs at each other, “I’ll see you soon, honey.” 

“Bye, (Y/N/N)!” was the last thing Kevin got out before Mickey slammed the door in his face, not worrying about if there were stray fingers left behind. 

“That fucking kid…” Mickey said under his breath, locking the deadbolt with a resound click. 

You pushed away from where you had leant against the wall and walked toward him, “my man… my sweet, strong man who has such a big heart and helps out his family.” 

You plastered yourself to his back, bringing your hands down to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, “my man who provides for me,” you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “for the people he loves,” one to his trap, “who is the best person I’ve ever known,” one to his neck. 

Mickey whimpered under your ministrations, caught up in the whispered pleasure of your lips and nimble fingers that greedily took inventory of his torso.

“You’re really tryin’ to start something, huh?” he chuckled as you began to suck on his pulse point. 

“And if I was?” 

As soon as the last syllable left your mouth, Mickey had twisted around to take handfuls of your thighs to hitch you up around his waist. 

You couldn’t hold in the excited giggle that bubbled from your chest as he marched you both back toward your room in quick succession. His long strides getting you both back between the sheets in no time. All thoughts of  dropped sandwiches and burn holes and faulty equipment and pesky little brothers, gone. Now, there was only you, and that was just the way Mickey liked it. 

if you follow me you know that i have been going through a major writing block and a creativity dry spell, so while i don’t think this is my best work, it is fun and silly and soft and nice to write (:  if you enjoyed, i would really love it hear it <3 ‘til next time!

[superfanficnatural]

The Choice Part 11

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Christian Grey x Reader 

Summary: Deciding to get over your crush on Dean, you find Christian, a mysterious billionaire that manages to split your heart into two. Finding out hidden truths, your decision becomes a hard one, who will you choose?

A/N: Hey guys! Been a while but here is the next chapter! A bit slow but this chapter was necessary in order to set some events in place. For everyone who’s stuck with this since the beginning and those who joined later on, thank you so much for reading!! As always, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Slight fluff

Word Count: 2,767

Italics are thoughts

Masterpost

“I-” you didn’t even know where to start, but you found yourself leaning in, and he was reciprocating.

There was always this pull that you had when it came to Dean. No matter what he did, you always found yourself running right back into his arms. Was it weakness? Love? You couldn’t quite place it, like there was this unbreakable string that connected you to him that he always tugged on, bringing you ever closer. His face dimly lit up with the light of his room behind him, the slight bedhead, his perfectly pink plump lips; simply looking at him made all thoughts leave your mind. It had always scared you, not being able to think straight when you were around him, it almost always led to something happening. As you were only centimeters away from his lips, you caught yourself and softly put your hand on his chest to keep him at bay for the moment.

“There’s something you should know... about Christian,” you whispered.

He immediately recoiled, taking a step back and sighing angrily, “I don’t care about Christian! Is there no way that we can just spend 5 minutes without that douchebag’s name coming up?” he barked.

“Dean I understand your frustration but-”

“Do you, Y/N? Do you really understand how infuriating it is to see you with him?” his eyes were lit with fire and they were aimed right at you.

You looked at him for a moment, what you were going to tell him being put on the backburner for now, “You-” you began to chuckle unable to help it, falling into a fit of laughter, Dean becoming confused. “You’re telling me that I don’t understand how angry it makes you when seeing me with other guys?” your voice was progressively getting louder and louder. “How the fuck do you think I’ve felt for years every time you fucked some other random girl after picking them up at a bar? How do you think I felt when you had finally admitted your feelings for me, then I found you once again kissing another girl at the bar?!” 

He was completely silent, shocked at your words, shocked at how he hadn’t realized that you were only doing to him what he had been doing to you for years. Your face was red and your body was heaving with your breaths, the pent up anger you had been holding in being unleashed all at once. His mouth had opened and closed several times, Dean trying to figure out what to say; but he was stumped. 

You solemnly nodded your head, “That’s what I thought.”

You stepped out of the room and grabbed the door handle, just before closing it, “By the way, Leila Williams? The girl who tried to kill me? Yeah well Christian had actually hired her to seduce you and get you to fall out of love with me. How well that went right?” without so much as an explanation to the bombshell you had dropped on him, you had slammed the door and stomped away to your room. 

Sam had poked his head out of his door, curious as to what the ruckus was but after one look at your face walking past him, he knew exactly what had happened and sighed, closing his door and going back inside. Once you had reached your room, you closed the door behind you and threw your phone onto your bed, pacing around a bit and running your fingers through your hair. What the hell have I gotten myself into? I thought that Christian was the perfect guy, but turns out he has a darkness to him that I hadn’t seen before. At first, you thought it was seductive, a deep carnal blackness he held back, only releasing it when he felt the need to do so. It excited you, everytime you were with him you were secretly hoping that he would claim you, unleashing it to swallow you whole. However, looking at it now, it was much more than that. Instead of claiming you as his, he actively tried to make sure that no one else could meddle in his plans. As if he had planned it out entirely. Get rid of Dean, she’ll come running right into my arms, and I will never allow her to leave. The idea of belonging to someone, as intriguing as it is, it goes both ways. You didn’t know if you wanted to be owned, and not own him just as much. To have Christian make all of your decisions for you? Absolutely not.

Bzz

You turned your head to look at your phone on your bed, Christian’s name on the screen. You walked over and sat on your bed, holding the phone up, pondering whether you should answer or not. Eventually the decision was made for you as it had stopped ringing and he had gone to voicemail. Letting go of your phone next to you, you fell back onto the bed with a huge sigh and dramatically threw your arm over your eyes.

“Y/N? Open the door,” Dean had commanded sharply after knocking on your door.

“Can men just leave me alone for 5 fucking minutes?!” you silently shouted under your breath.

Grumbling to yourself, you stalked up to the door and unlocked it, opening it to find Dean standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression. He walked forward into the room, forcing you to step back. Though he didn’t stop, he kept walking, looking right into your eyes, and you couldn’t do anything but keep walking backwards. Eventually, your back hit the wall and there was nowhere for you to go, Dean getting closer and closer until eventually he reached you. He was mere inches away and he had looked down at you, slowly bringing his left arm up to put on the right side of your head.

“I’m done playing games,” he spoke softly, yet with a steeled resolve behind them. “I am in love with you.”

You nearly gasped, Dean never speaks of his feelings and for him to bare himself to you right here and saying those words with zero hesitation was something that shook you to your core. 

“I’ve been in love with you from the first goddamn day I met you and I’ve been fighting these feelings for so long, sweetheart,” he brought his free hand up and softly caressed your cheek. “I refused to make you a target, refused to lose the one person I love most in this world. And I know, I know that I should have told you sooner, but you know me, sweetheart, I’m never good at timing. It’s just,” he sighed, “seeing you with him, it killed me.” His eyes were shining with nothing but genuine sorrow and truth. 

His gaze was so intense that you looked down, unable to even fathom the feelings that were building in your chest. He refused to let you shy away, cupping your chin and tilting your head up, leaving you no choice but to look right at him. 

“I am in love with you, and no one will ever change that. Not Leila, not Christian, no one, ok?” 

You slightly nodded as best as you could with his hand on your chin, unable to even form words.

He smiled lovingly and leaned down to kiss your lips softly, your eyes closing at the tenderness he offered you. Pulling away after a few moments, he took a step back and moved to sit on the bed, patting the spot next to him.

“Now, tell me everything, please.”

The entire time that you had known Dean, you had always known him as someone who had no idea how to put his feelings into words. He’s always been the expressionist, the emotion he projects in his eyes always telling you everything you needed to know. Now, he’s managed to finally break through that barrier and articulate what he was feeling. Smiling softly, you nodded and sat down on the bed next to him, not ignoring the feeling you got when your knee brushed his. 

“I... might have played Christian on our date,” his eyebrow quirked.

“And how exactly did you ‘play’ him?” he asked, curiosity peaked.

“Well, I paid someone to pretend they were choking so I could get my hands on his phone and check his texts...” you hesitantly revealed, hoping he wouldn’t think you were a psychopath.

Though, to your surprise, he bursted out laughing, throwing his head back, “You-” he was barely breathing, “you went through all that just to get into his phone? Damn, Y/N! Remind me to never hide stuff from you.”

You laughed with him, appreciating the lighthearted energy in the room for a moment before continuing, “Yeah, well turns out, he was actually texting Leila. Based on what she was saying, I’m pretty sure she’s an ex girlfriend of his.”

“So he had told her to try and seduce me, but instead, she tried to kill you to have Christian to herself?” Dean questioned, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he tried to piece everything together. 

You nodded solemnly, “Yup,” you said, popping the p, “I know Christian has good intentions and I really do believe that he has feelings for me.” You paused with a sigh, “But there’s a completely different side of him that he’s hiding from me, and I can’t be with someone like that.”

Dean looked at you in shock, “Even after everything, you’re still capable of not despising him? I’m starting to worry about your mental health, Y/N.”

You punched him in the shoulder with a laugh, “Shut up. What else am I supposed to think? I really like him and even though he had hired Leila, it wasn’t a violent thing, more possessive. The second he found out she was involved in actually trying to hurt me, he threatened her and promised that he would send her to jail.” Dean tried his best to hide his jealousy and anger but you could always see through him, “Dean, I’m sorry if I’m talking about Christian so much with you-”

“Y/N, it’s fine, really,” he responded with a small smile forming on his lips.

“...really?” you quirked, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

He barked a small laugh and got up, “Talk about Christian all you want, but I’m going to be the one that you fall in love with, not him.

Without so much as another word or even a second to let you respond, he left the room and closed the door behind him. 

...WHAT

Your mouth was agape and you were staring at the door wide eyed, your mind racing a million miles an hour yet not a single coherent thought was processing in your head. Did he just say he was going to make me fall in love with him? A blush slowly rose up to your cheeks and a giddy feeling had risen in your chest. God I feel like I’m some dumb girl in high school. Before you could start screaming into your pillow, your phone began to ring next to you, picking it up, you saw Christian’s name light up on the screen. 

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you answered, “Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s so nice to hear your voice,” Christian breathed from the other side of the line.

You could almost hear the smile in his voice and although you tried to fight it, it warmed your heart a bit, “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no! Nothing at all!” he rushed out, sounding extremely nervous. You heard a deep breath on the other line before he spoke up once again, “I know you must hate me for what I did, and I completely deserve it, but I’m done hiding. If you want to know the real me, all of me, I’ll show you, if that is what you want.”

The coincidence was uncanny, to think you were seconds away from breaking it off with him unless he had shown you every part of him, to him offering you the chance was something that baffled you. There was no chance that you were going to miss out on this, everyone makes mistakes, and although this was a big one, he’s trying to make up for it in the best way that he can. 

“It is,” you simply responded.

The relief in his voice was abysmal, “Perfect,” he tried to hide his happiness but didn’t do a very good job at it, “my plane will be at the airstrip at 3pm, if you still want to give me another chance and get to know me, it’ll take you right to my private airstrip. I’ll pick you up from there.”

“Alright Christian, but just know, this is your last chance, I’m not the type of person to give more than a second chance,” you made it clear that this was his last chance, done playing games with men who couldn’t tell you anything straight.

“Of course, I’m just thankful that you’re offering me this chance, you will not regret it. I will show you the parts of me that I’ve been hiding, but I must warn you, there are things that you might not like.”

Based on what had happened on your first “date”, you had a feeling that you knew exactly what it was, and it excited you, “I understand, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” he said before hanging up the phone. 

You plugged your phone into it’s charger and placed it onto the nightstand next to your bed, throwing your head back onto your pillow and looking up at the ceiling. Why can’t I just choose? Stupid heart falling in love with two guys that honestly are probably going to treat you horribly, Y/N. Your brain told you that you needed to pack your shit and get the hell out of dodge, but your heart told you to stay, and gave you hopes of an amazing life with both of the men in your life. Though, it’s not that easy; Dean, or Christian. In terms of who would be the perfect boyfriend, you would have to give that honor to Christian, but in terms of what they made you feel, Dean is the one who takes the cake. Not to say you didn’t feel anything for Christian, maybe because you’ve known Dean much longer? Also, Christian has no idea that you’re a hunter. I’ve been on his ass about hiding parts of himself but he still doesn’t know that I’m a hunter. What kind of person does that make me? But after everything you had been through with both of these men, a part of you also says to choose neither, and just move on with your life. Though you had a feeling that neither of them would make that easy, Dean would find you anywhere in the world and Christian could just get on his private jet and fly to anywhere you try to go. A choice it is then. Tomorrow, you were going to tell Christian the truth about who you were as well, and if he didn’t want to be with you any longer, then that is his choice. He deserves the truth just as much as I do from him. 

After a few more minutes of thinking, you got up and walked over to the bathroom, taking off your clothes and turning on the warm water. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you took that time to reflect on yourself. Tracing every scar on your body with your fingers, your eyes raking over your features. Why do Dean and Christian like me so much? Both of them could get any woman that they wanted, hell, they probably already have. What makes me so special? You couldn’t find an answer, but in reality, you didn’t want to try. Because if you did, and found nothing, it would shatter you. Shaking those thoughts from your head, you turned and went into the small cubicle, letting the warm spray run over you. You took a relatively quick shower, feeling pretty tired and wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers and get some shut eye. After you had dried yourself off, you put on your pajamas and turned the light of before getting under the covers. Closing your eyes, before you had completely fallen asleep, the last thing that went through your mind was Dean, and him telling you that you were going to fall in love with him. 

Next Part

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[blazinbeautywrites]

Quiet

Note: Due to the rampant uprising of plagiarism on this site and others I am stating once and once only that this is my ORIGINAL work. If I find out that you have stolen/taken any part of my work I will handle you and the situation the way I see fit.

None of the pics or gifs I use belong to me so full credit goes to the originators of said gifs and pics.

Length: 1,528 words

Genre: Smut

A/N: I missed my mans Christian and he been looking delicious in his recent releases and appearances and now I feel some type of way.

Luxe wanted to be anywhere but at this dumbass party her parents decided to throw in her honor. They were celebrating the fact that she finished medical school and was now a doctor. She thought it was all unnecessary. While everyone was mingling she snuck off and was enjoying herself in her parents back garden when she heard someone clear their throat. She smiled as she immediately knew who it was.

“Christian.” She said as she went to hug him.

“Luxe Morgan Johnson. My my have you grown.” Christian replied.

“Oh my god. I see you’re still a huge flirt.” She said.

“Only for you baby girl.” He retorted.

“Ew gross. How did you even find me out here?” She asked.

“I know you too well. Plus you’ve always said this was your favorite place to relax, especially when your parents annoyed you.” Christian said as he took a seat next to her on freshly mowed grass.

“I missed you, you know. I don’t know if your mom told you, but I came looking for you that summer after I graduated from college. She said you were long gone. What happened?” Luxe asked.

“Honestly? Nothing bad I just…...I had to get out of this town. My dad was on me to take over the firm, my mom wanted me to apply myself more in school. I had enough so I just left.” Christian replied.

“You should have called me. I would have been there for you.” Luxe said. She was a little hurt that her best friend had kept this from her but she figured he had his reasons so she dropped the issue.

“I know I know but that’s in the past. But anyways your dad sent me out here to get you because dinner is being served in a few minutes.” Christian said. He stood up and held out his hand to pull her up. Luxe dusted off her clothes and headed inside with Christian. She walked in just as the servers started to bring out appetizers. As she took her seat she looked at all of the relatives and family friends and wanted to throw up. She vaguely remembered most of these people looking down upon her and her parents as they struggled to succeed. Now look at them, all gathered around her parent’s luxurious dining table ready to eat thousands of dollars worth of food. She shook those thoughts out of her head as Christian took a seat next to her. Once everyone was settled her dad lightly tapped his fork against his champagne glass and Luxe was not looking forward to whatever speech he was about to give.

“I just want to say that I’m so glad you all could make it. I am so proud of my baby girl and all that she’s achieved. TO LUXE!” Her dad cheered, the guests following his lead. One by one the guests gave speeches but Luxe and Christian were in their own little world.

“I’m sorry but this shit is boring. I need some entertainment.” Christian whispered to Luxe. Feeling his hot breath on her neck made her tingle. She shifted in her seat and Christian noticed. He smirked to himself and placed his left arm on his lap. He made sure no one was looking and slowly slipped his hand to the inside of her thighs. Luxe inhaled a sharp breath and tried her best to relax but how could she when her best friend’s hand was under her skirt. She composed herself and continued to listen to the speeches as Christian’s fingers ghosted over her lacy underwear. Thankfully the last person had just finished giving their speech and everyone was now free to eat. Luxe could still feel his hand between her legs as he lightly rubbed her through her underwear, making it extremely hard for her to eat her food.

“Ummm, I have to freshen up. Those speeches really moved me. Be right back.” Luxe quickly got up and made a beeline for their guest bathroom that was right off the dining area. She leaned over the sink and tried to calm her nerves. After about a couple minutes, she heard the door open and when she looked in the mirror she saw Christian standing behind her.

“You good?” Christian asked.

“You know damn well I’m not. What the hell was that?” Luxe asked.

“You seemed a little tense, I was just trying to help you. Plus like I said, I was bored and needed some entertainment.

“So your form of entertainment is fingering girls underneath the table in a room full of people? She asked.

“I mean I couldn’t bend you over the table so under the table was the next best thing.” He replied. He bit his lip and stared her down. Luxe kept up the eye contact, almost challenging him.

“So why are you in here? Did my dad send you to find me again?” Luxe asked.

“Does is matter why I’m here? Plus, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you sitting in the garden.” Christian said. Wasting no time Luxe pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss when he suddenly pulled away. She was taken aback and got worried.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” She asked.

“Nah I’m good, it’s just…….that’s not where I wanted to kiss you.” He said as he slid to his knees. Once at eye level with her heat he pulled her skirt down and watched as it fell to her feet. He ran a finger up her soaked underwear and she let out a moan that was music to Christian’s ears. He stared at her as he moved her underwear to the side. He licked a long stripe up her slick folds and she visibly shuddered.

“I-I need more. Fuck I need more.” Luxe moaned out. Christian was more than happy to oblige. He immediately dug in. He began eating her like she was his last meal. Luxe lost her balance and he swung her leg over his shoulder. She grabbed a hold of his raven locks and tried to steady herself some more. Her other hand held onto the wall and she was losing her grip.

“Mmmm you taste so damn good. Bend over for me.” Christin demanded. Luxe obeyed and turned around and when she looked in the mirror she became even more aroused. Especially the way he was looking at her. He pushed her forwards, bending her over the counter in the bathroom. He  gave a sharp slap on the ass and inserted 2 fingers inside of her.

“Fuckfuckfuuuuuck.” Luxe moaned.

“Like I said before, I need you to be quiet.” He spoke the last part in her ear, making her shiver. He moved his fingers, massaging her insides. This drove her insane.

“Oh shit. Just like that baby oh my god.” She breathed out as he fingered her at a vigorous pace. 

“You take my fingers so well baby girl. God I can’t wait to be inside that tight little pussy.” Christian said. He pulled her up by her throat and kissed her as his fingers continued their assault on her already sensitive pussy. She could taste herself on his lips and it took all her self control not to drop to her knees and suck his dick dry.

“I’m about to come, shit I’m about to come.” Luxe cried out. Her legs gave out and she came hard. Christian didn’t stop and continued fingering her.

“Come on you can take one more, can’t you?” He teased. Luxe clung onto his jacket as he guided her through another orgasm. She was spent and had no idea how she was going to go sit at a table full of family and friends and pretend she wasn’t a soaking wet mess. Once she’d calmed down a bit she turned back around and took his fingers and licked them clean. 

“Mmmmmm. Tasty.” She said as she made eye contact when she was done. Christian’s pants felt tighter as he was rock hard. Oh he was gonna fuck the shit out of her as soon as he gets the chance. He washed his hands and helped her pull herself back together and they made their way back to the dining room.

“Ah there she is. Honey are you okay? You look a little flustered.” Luxe’s mom said.

“Yeah she’s okay. Just a little emotional that’s all. But everything is fine now.” He said. Luxe and Christian exchanged knowing looks as he pulled her chair out for her.

“Wow. Lying to my parents? Good move.” Luxe teased.

“Well I damn sure can’t tell them that I made their daughter cum twice in the span of 10 minutes.” He replied.

“You're in for a ride of your life sweetie. I plan on getting you back later on.” Luxe said as she took a sip from her wine glass.

“Oh is that a threat?” He asked.

“It’s a promise.” She replied. They clinked their glasses together and shared a look of anticipation. Both knew that their night was far from over and they were excited to explore this new side of their relationship.