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chemicalalice · 3 months ago

Text

Oh.

My.

God.

YES! THIS! I LOVE IT!!

First off there is a serious lack of Murphy Connors fic out there so THANK YOU!

Second @tropes-and-tales always writes THE BEST Benny stuff.

If you do one thing for yourself today, READ THIS! 100/10, will read again in five minutes

Sharing is Caring

(Murph Connors x F!Reader; Benny Magalon x F!Reader)

CW: Mild angst. Smut (Cuckholding as a kink; open relationships; mention of threesome; mention of foot fetish; brief oral, m! receiving; less brief oral, f! receiving; PiV, protected). 18+ only.

Word Count: 8434

AN: This was originally requested for Kinktober 2023 (oops) by an anonymous person!

Of all the guys, Murph Connors has always been the least forthcoming about his romantic life. Big Nick, Henderson, Z…they all lay their love lives out for the scrutiny of the others. Their divorces, their conquests, their ball-and-chain back home giving them grief, their sweet new thing just a phone call away. The baby mamas and the ones that got away.

Murph is something of a mystery with most of his personal life anyway. Stakeouts and hotel parties alike, he’s always more likely to sit and smoke and listen thoughtfully than he is to open up about his time away from Major Crimes.

Which is all to say: Benny is never clear on when Murph started dating you. The big hulking asshole just brought you around one evening—a low-key night at a dive bar.

It was jarring, the first time the guys met you. You knew a lot about them, and they knew nothing about you. By the end of the night… they still don’t know much about you. Which may be why you and Murph became a couple: you had a slickness to how you answer their questions, a cool way of turning their queries back around on them.

You ended up leaving them that first night early. You leaned over and brushed a kiss over Murph’s stubbled face, and you waved at the guys and said it’s been a pleasure, and then you were gone.

“Nice girl,” Big Nick offered, a touch sardonic. “Playing your cards close to the vest, huh?”

Benny lifted his glass of beer towards Murph and added, more nicely, “good for you, Connors. She seems great.”

Murph chuckled and shook his head a bit. “You have no idea, man.”

-----

If you’re like a case file, Benny only builds you up little by little. One tiny gleaned fact at a time.

When Murph puts in for some PTO because he’s taking you back east for a long weekend. “She’s had a rough fucking month with work,” he says, and that’s how Benny learns that you work in the family courts system in some capacity.

When Murph comes in on a Monday stiff and limping. “She took me fucking paddle boarding. You ever do that shit? Fuck, every part of me hurts.”

When you show up unannounced one morning, in a sharp wool suit and heels that click on the floor. You smile at Murph and hand him his lunch. “You forgot this,” you tell him, and you strain on your toes to kiss him lightly.

And that same moment, Big Nick comes out of his office and asks Connors if his mommy brought him his bologna sandwich. You are quick to flip him off and retort that you just came from his mom’s place, Momma Big Nick sends her regards and says he should call more often, which makes the guys laugh.

When Murph hooks up with one of the hired girls at a hotel party. Benny is no angel, but he goes out on the balcony to smoke a cigarette, and he feels a sting of something. Disappointment in Murph? Pity for you?

When, days later, Benny brings it up to Murph. “Kinda shitty, man,” he says, even though none of them are saints by any stretch, and both Z and Big Nick are serial cheaters. Benny supposes he thought better of Murph and his whole strong-and-silent routine, mistook his reticence for a version of virtue.

When, a beat later, Murph looks at him in surprise and says, “it’s all aboveboard, bubba. We’re in an open thing.”

When Benny can’t come up with a reply fast enough, Murph takes in his expression and adds, “oh, yeah, didn’t you know? She’s way chill with a lot more than you’d think.”

-----

When Murph brings you around for Z’s birthday party. You and Benny end up in the kitchen together, restocking a cooler of beer together. Benny clears his throat, and you glance at him. Your lips are curved in a bemused smile, and before he can even voice his question, you preempt him and say, “you’ve got questions, huh?”

Benny nods.

“It’s only complicated when you think of it through the framework of antiquated social mores.”

What can he say to that? When has Benny ever really sat and considered the framework of antiquated social mores?

You touch his forearm softly. “What I mean is, Murph and I are never going to get married and have kids and a house in the suburbs. Murph isn’t built for that and neither am I. So why not do our own thing, recognizing that it will end eventually? Why not have a little fun?”

“Not about that wife and mom life, then?” he asks with a smile, though he’s still out of his depths. Every woman he’s known has wanted those things—or at least he thought they did. He’s been married twice himself, one small son from the second one. His mother, his sisters, his cousins, every woman he’s dated… they all seemed to be marching towards the same template, right?

“Marriage is just a legal contract that almost never benefits the woman. And children?” You laugh with a tinge of bitterness. “In this world? Maybe I love my children so much that I’ve decided to never foist them into this existence.”

“Grim.”

You cock your head at him. Appraise him. “Did Murph ever tell you what I do for a living?”

“You work in family courts, right?”

“I’m a minor’s attorney for the Juvenile Court.”

“Oh. Shit.” Benny’s work sometimes touches on juvenile cases, abuse of children. Neglect. But only sometimes, and he can’t imagine dealing with it exclusively.

“Oh shit is right.” You don’t say more. You finish dumping the ice into the cooler, then say in a brighter tone, “you’re up, Borracho. Carry the cooler out, will you? I’d hate for all that work at the gym to go to waste.”

If Benny perhaps preens at the unintended compliment, and if he perhaps flexes more than necessary as he carries the cooler, no one mentions it.

-----

The other guys must have a passing interest in you too, and Murph feeds them breadcrumbs of information over months and months.

The fact that yes, you’re pretty chill about things, but also pretty adventuresome.

The fact that you have a nice little bungalow in Little Armenia, and in a fact that both shocks Benny and kinda, sorta turns him on, you have a hidden sex room in that nice little bungalow.

“What the fuck is a sex room?” Henderson asks, and Murph actually blushes at the question. His face turns florid, but he answers with a cryptic, “look it up yourself, man.”

Which Benny does later that night on incognito mode.

Other things that come out, over time and usually by accident with Murph is just a touch too loose with the booze sometimes at their parties. He spills the salacious stuff and the sweet stuff, both.

You have a secret OnlyFans where you deal exclusively in foot stuff. You never show your face, and you have a small but dedicated clientele who pay outrageous sums for you to do weird shit with your admittedly very lovely feet. One guy pays for you to step on elaborate desserts, to get frosting between your toes. Another guy pays you to flex and contort your feet around various sex toys. Another pays to watch you paint your toenails in colors he chooses.

“It pays really well,” Murph says as the guys laugh and rib him. “How the hell do you think she afforded the down payment for that house?”

You are trying to learn Japanese (why asks Big Nick, and Murph shrugs and says why not? Then adds, “she loves Japanese cinema, man, and she doesn’t trust that the subtitles get it right.”)

You set up a threesome for Murph’s birthday last year, you and a woman you had carefully vetted. Afterwards, the three of you had sat in the kitchen and ate leftover apple cake from the Armenian bakery down the street.

You live across the street from a widow who has no family, so you routinely check on her, make double recipes when you cook, and make sure she’s good.

Once, at a hotel party (one that Benny wasn’t at because he had his son that weekend), Murph hooked up with a hired girl and had you on Facetime for the entire exchange. At your request. And that it tapped into some unrealized jealous streak, so when Murph dropped by your place afterwards, you fucked him senseless.

“Best sex of my life,” he mumbles around the mouth of his beer bottle.

And how the experience has opened up a new avenue of exploration. How you’re on the lookout for a willing candidate to fuck so Murph can be jealous. So Murph can be cuckolded.

Big Nick lifts his hand at that revelation. “I volunteer. Shit, man. Sign me up.”

Murph snorts and shakes his head, and he changes the subject as elegantly as a drunk person can, but his eyes slide over to Benny and linger there a beat too long for it to mean nothing.

-----

“She likes you, you know,” Murph tells him weeks later.

They’re on a stakeout, and when Benny turns to look at his partner, Murph is just gazing straight ahead out of the windshield. Benny lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

“She doesn’t know me.”

“She does. Better than you think, bubba.”

“We had half of a conversation once.” Benny reaches back through his memory and finds nothing else. No meaningful glances, even. No lingering touches.

Murph reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out his pack of smokes. He shakes one loose and offers the pack to Benny, who waves him off.

“You interested?” Murph asks as he pulls out a lighter, sparks up. He takes a deep drag, breathes out plumes of smoke.

Benny hesitates to answer. Of course he’s interested. You’ve been pinging on his internal radar since you turned up on the scene, but how the fuck does he tell Murph that? You may be chill and Murph may be chill, but it feels precarious, fucking with his partner’s woman.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Murph offers helpfully. “You don’t have to answer. Just know that she’s interested in you.”

“It’d be a dicey thing to fuck with your woman, Connors.”

Murph snorts. “It’s up to you, but maybe you aren’t getting it. She isn’t my woman. If she heard you call her that, she’d lay into you.”

“Then who the fuck does she belong to if not you?”

Another snort, and Murph shoots him a scathing look. “Man, it’s the twentieth century. She belongs to herself, you fucking caveman.”

Benny chuckles, shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. You’re a regular Gloria Steinem.”

“I’m a pretty enlightened kind of guy.”

“But it’s the twenty-first century.”

“Close enough.”

-----

The next time Benny sees you, it’s at Murph’s place. For once, the stingy bastard is opening up his own wallet and hosting an evening. There’s a fight on pay-per-view, and Murph lays out a surprisingly robust spread of pizza, wings, and booze. Big Nick invites a few of his regular girls.

Your contribution to the evening is your presence and the spoils from your visit to a dispensary. You settle on the couch beside Murph, cross-legged and leaning forward as you roll a joint. Murph’s big paw rests idly on your back, steadying you, and Benny watches from the corner of his eye.

When you light one up, you take a deep inhale, blow it out slowly. You pass it to Murph, who declines, who passes it to Z, who takes a hit, who passes it to Benny.

He usually doesn’t bother with pot, but when he glances over and sees you watching him, he lifts it to his lips and takes a hit as well. It’s smooth, tastes faintly of something citrus, and when he exhales, he can see you smiling at him through the plume of smoke.

-----

The shit you’ve brought is strong, and by the time the party settles in, Benny’s head is swimming. Everything has a halo to it, bright and golden, and he knows he has a goofy grin on his face but he can’t quite care.

“That must hurt,” you tell him. Everyone has shifted around, drifted. Henderson and Z are the only two watching the fight in earnest. Big Nick is off with one or more of the hired girls, and Murph is stretched out on the couch and drowsing despite the TV noise and music.

Benny is outside on the patio, looking up at the sky and wishing he didn’t live in a place with so much smog. Then you’re standing over him, smiling, and you gesture at the bit of free step beside him. He nods, and you join him.

“What hurts?” he asks.

You gesture at his face. “You’re smiling a lot. Pretty stoned, huh?”

“Why would it hurt?”

“You’re not exactly a smiley sort of guy.”

He laughs, and you giggle along with him. “Yeah, Connors said you know me pretty well.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He pauses, blinks against his dry eyes. “What do you know, then?”

“You’re probably too stoned for this conversation.”

“Nope. I’m good. Lay it on me. What’s my favorite color?”

You shake your head. “No idea.”

“Favorite food?”

Another shake, paired with a smile. “Also no idea.”

Benny snorts. “You don’t know me at all.”

You draw your legs up to your chest and hug your knees closer to you. You bend your head, rest your cheek on your knees, and fix your gaze on him.

“Funny that you think your favorite color and food is what defines you,” you say.

The pot has left him dry-mouthed and loose-limbed, so he fumbles as he reaches for his half-empty bottle of beer. You watch him as he takes a sip, then fumbles to set it back down.

“What defines me then, huh?”

“Murph never told you?”

“Told me what?” Told him that you were interested? Told him you might want to fuck him in one of your sexual games, and told him that you were free to do that because you belonged to yourself and no one else? Benny thinks it all, rapid-fire, but he says none of it.

You turn your head away from him and stare straight ahead, where Murph’s built out a sad-looking fire pit of scavenged bricks and concrete blocks. “There was a case a while ago. Couple cooking meth in their house. South Central. You and Murph were on it.”

Benny remembers. He has to dig past the pot and past the other cases since then, and then he remembers: the scrawny dude, the scrawnier woman. A shitty little house, one of those places where people kept adding on lean-to additions without permits, little more than shacks. They had a surprisingly sophisticated meth lab, and they also dealt in other unsavory activities: guns, fenced goods, occasional assault.

The meth makers had a kid. Benny remembers that.

Benny wishes he didn’t remember that.

“You and Murph were on the case, but you were the lead. By the time their kid came through the system to me, you were off the case. I guess you got moved onto other things, so when I needed testimony, that’s how I met Murph.

“I didn’t know.”

“So I do know you, kinda. I thought it had been Murph, so when I read through the case notes, I told him how impressed I was. How thorough it was. How…I don’t know. There was a barely contained rage in the notes about the conditions that kid was found in. Murph told me right away they weren’t his notes. ‘That’s my partner, Borracho,’ he said.”

“What does that tell you about me?” Benny asks, curious.

You turn your head and look at him again. “It tells me that I work off of police case notes all the fucking time, and half the time, they barely note the kids caught in the cross-fire. I read a note from an officer that says ‘child seems small for his age,’ and then I see the kid and it’s obvious they’ve been starved their entire life. I talk to a detective; he says, ‘yeah, kid had some bruises but kids are always getting dinged up.’ Then I see the x-rays from the medical exam and the kid’s broken more bones in five years of living than you or I will break in our combined lifetimes.”

He doesn’t have a reply for that. He knows the profession he’s in. He knows the type of people that it attracts. He knows that even the well-intentioned get jaded, get burnt out or exhausted by the parade of misery each day.

“You saw that kid. You didn’t downplay any of it. You witnessed and documented it, and because you did all that, I was able to terminate his parents’ rights. He’s been adopted by a cousin. She’s a nice lady, out in Lubbock. Kid has a backyard and a family dog and his own room. I got a card from them last Christmas.”

Benny breathes out a heavy exhale. He didn’t realize that’s how you and Murph met, and he never realized you’d known about him all along.

“Well, shit,” he finally says.

“You’re a good guy,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. The way you say it, like you’re capitalizing the “G” in “good.” He likes to think he is good-ish, but he often feels like he skews more on the bad side of things. Not evil, but more towards the less admirable traits a man shouldn’t have. He doesn’t see his son enough. He doesn’t speak up when Big Nick is behaving badly. He should go home more, help his mom around the house, spend more time with his nieces and nephews. He drifts towards inaction, and if he’s learned anything in his career as a cop, doing nothing is often as bad as… doing something bad.

The pot loosens his tongue more than he’d like, and he blurts out, “so I took good case notes and that’s why you want to fuck me?”

You inhale sharply, then burst into gales of laughter. You release your hold on your knees and stretch your legs out in front of you, plant your palms on the step beside you and laugh.

“Goddamnit, Benny,” you manage to get out between peals of laughter. “When did you get so blunt?”

He laughs along with you. “You brought super-pot. I’m a fucking lightweight.”

“Oh, god.” You swipe at your eyes, then stand up. You turn to go back inside, but you pause and look down at where he’s still settled on the patio step.

“For the record, you took good case notes and that’s why I think well of you.” A beat, and you add, “I only want to fuck you because you’re hot.”

Hearing you admit it from your own mouth and not secondhand and obliquely from Murph makes Benny’s go all fuzzy in the head, a wave of lust so strong that he has to stay out on the patio for a while until he calms.

-----

“Just curious,” Benny asks Murph a few weeks later. “How would it work?”

They are on another stakeout on the same miserable case, and Murph grunts from the driver’s seat. “How would what work?”

“You know.”

“I don’t.”

“Jesus, c’mon.” Benny runs a hand over his jaw. “Don’t make me say it out loud.”

“You can’t be so squeamish if you’re considering it, bubba.”

“Fine.” He huffs out a breath through his nostrils, then turns to look out his window. “How would hooking up with her work?”

He can see Murph turn and look at him; his reflection is a ghost in his window. He can just make out a wide grin.

“How does it work?” he teases. “Well, when a guy likes a girl a whole lot, he takes off her clothes—”

“Fuck off. You know what I mean.”

Benny catches Murph’s shrug in the reflection of the window. “How would it work if I wasn’t in the picture?”

“It’s that easy?”

“Yeah. I can give you her number.”

Benny pauses, considers how out of his depth he is. “And you’d be fine with it?”

Murph chuckles and turns to face forward, his eyes fixed on the house across the street they are scoping out. “Dude, that time I hooked up at the hotel party and she watched on Facetime? Then I went home to her? I thought I was gonna die. She was like a damned wildcat, and it was amazing. So yeah, I’d be fine with it. It’s a fun thing to explore. You have your fun, I’ll see if I get all jealous like she did. If I do, then I’ll go fuck her brains out too. If I don’t, then she got to have fun with a guy she’s got a thing for.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Like I said, it’s fun to explore. Fun to play around with. Win-win-win all the way around.”

“Sharing is caring,” Benny adds.

Murph laughs. “Exactly, dude.”

-----

Murph gives him your contact information when they clock out, and he puts a heavy hand on Benny’s shoulder.

“Treat her good, though, yeah? She’s chill and fun but she’s also kind of a softy, so be nice to her.”

Benny nods. “I will.” He takes a beat, then adds in a lighter tone, “any tips?”

Murph laughs and drops his hand from Benny’s shoulder. “You’re on your own there, bubba.”

-----

Benny probably asks Murph at least ten more times if it’s okay.

At the same time, he asks you probably fifty times if it’s okay.

“You seem uncertain,” you tell him over the phone one night as you try to hash out plans. “You know you don’t have to do anything. Hell, if you want to just go and grab a beer, I’m down.”

Benny chuckles at that—like he’d be content with just sharing a drink after living with you in the forefront of his thoughts for months.

“Maybe it’s just difficult because I live in a framework of antiquated social mores.”

“That framework starting to feel like a cage yet?”

“You planning a jailbreak for me?”

“Yup. Operation Free Magalon.”

He glances around his apartment: spartan, utilitarian. The latest in a long string of places. He’s bounced between apartments and homes, marriage to divorce to marriage to divorce, and now he’s back here alone. It’d be nice, he thinks, to let loose like this. To explore something different.

“When works for you?” he asks, and by the end of the call you have a date and time for him to go over to your place and hang out.

“Still no pressure though, Benny,” you remind him gently. “We can hang out and see what happens. If nothing happens, we’ll have had a nice evening of good company.”

-----

It turns out to be a nice evening of good company after all.

Benny goes to your place and brings a bottle of wine, because he has no idea the etiquette of this sort of thing. He’s never actually seen you drink wine, and you take it from him with thanks, but then set it aside and tell him that dinner is about ready.

Because you cook for him. Because of course you fucking do.

He relaxes little by little. You eat, and you make a pitcher of margaritas light on the tequila so neither of you get wasted. You chat, stilted at first, then more comfortably. After dinner, you shift to the living room and the conversation continues. You ask if he wants to spark up, then joke and tell him you have a milder strain, so the two of you share a joint, passing it back and forth, loosening up even more.

It probably helps, knowing that you want him. Benny has always been secure in himself, but never as blustery confident as Big Nick or even Henderson. There’s always been a thread of submissiveness in the beginning of his relationships, a subtle feeling-out before making a move. He’s always wanted to know it was a close-to-sure thing before putting himself out there.

The tequila and pot relaxes him enough that he unclenches his shoulders, his arms. He unclenches his jaw. When you move towards him, he’s able to meet you halfway in a smooth motion. He’s able to get an arm around your waist and maneuver you into his lap right out of the gate. You settle there, your weight so close to where his cock twitches at the change to the evening. Then you cup his head in your hands and lean in to kiss him.

It's soft, at first. It surprises him how softly you kiss him. He’s way out of his depths, and he supposes he has a lot of preconceived notions. Part of him thought you’d open your door in some dominatrix getup, all patent leather and metal hardware, and Benny realizes that he doesn’t have much of a handle on any kinks beyond the tamest ones. Because you answered the door in a simple dress, and now you’re kissing him gently, almost shyly, your hands soft against his face as you settle more of your weight on him.

It progresses in slow movements. You kiss. You deepen the kiss. Your hands touch him in widening arcs: his face, then his neck, then his shoulders. His chest, his arms. Lower, down his belly, and your palm slips under the hem of his shirt to touch him low, right where the waist of his jeans cut into him.

Lower still, as you kiss him, as you sweep your tongue against his, as you taste him and breathe against him and make little moans that make him grow harder. You feel him there; you rock against him, and he swears he can feel the wet heat of you through your panties and through his own clothing. Your hand fumbles at his belt, his button, his zipper, and he’s about to reach down to help you but you succeed. A beat later, he feels your hand on him, grasping him lightly through his boxers.

He can’t help the moan that tears out of his throat. He hasn’t been touched since his ex-wife, the second one, left him.

He slides his hands from where they rest on your hips. He slides them back and grips the fat of your ass, kneads and grasps you. He pulls you closer to him, and you pull your hand away from where you’re grasping him. You steady yourself, hands on his shoulders, and now he definitely can feel the wet heat of you: the head of his cock has slipped the bounds of his boxers, and he bumps against the damp cotton of your panties.

“Benny,” you breathe against his mouth. “Can we move this somewhere else?”

In a less-than-smooth move, he shuffles forward with you still in his lap, then staggers into a standing position. He keeps his hands under your ass, hauls you up, and you wrap your legs around him.

“Tell me where to go, baby.”

-----

Benny’s incognito searches made him think your sex room would be something wild: padded walls with shelves of dildos, perhaps, or red satin sheets. A piece of weird leather furniture, maybe, like he saw on one site. Chains hanging from the ceiling like a meat locker.

Murph oversold it a little. It’s just a separate bedroom, done up nicer than the average guest room. There’s dark, soft-looking bedding on the king-sized bed. The frame is wrought iron, and sure, there’s handcuffs dangling from either side of the headboard. The lighting is soft and low, and there’s a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed that Benny will one day learn is full of sex toys, neatly organized by type.

He takes it all in in a split second and no longer, because you’re in his arms as he carries you to the bed. He moves to lay you down, but you keep your legs wrapped around him. He follows you then, an awkward drop but you tug his full weight onto you and kiss him fiercely.

The pot keeps it from being too frenetic. The eagerness keeps the pot from making it too lazy. It’s the perfect balance, an ebb and flow of energy and speed. You strip him quickly, and when he goes too slow in stripping you, you push him away, kneel above him, and tug your dress over your head.

Benny lays back on the bank of pillows and watches in awe: your arms lifted up lifts your breasts, and you’re wearing one of those bras that barely covers anything. Lacy black cups only cover the rounded fullness at the bottom, and he can see where your nipples peek out. He takes in the rest of you: the softness of your belly and the curve of your hips, the equally skimpy panties.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he mumbles. He reacts automatically, grips himself and gives his cock a few pumps with his hand at the sight of you half-naked and kneeling over him. Backlit by the soft lighting. Gazing back at him with half-lidded eyes, lips parted. The pink tip of your tongue skating over your lower lip as you watch him touch himself.

“You do this before?” you ask. Your voice has a husky quality, either from the tequila or the pot or the moment, or all three.

“Do what?”

“Touch yourself thinking about me.”

No sense in lying. He’s done it more than once. He nods at you.

You rock back on your heels and smile at him. “I’ve thought about you too.”

The admission makes a fresh pulse of desire rocket through him, makes his cock twitch in his hand. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“How’d it go?”

“Hmm.” You move to all fours and crawl towards him, and he releases his hold on himself. You work your way up from the bottom of him, teasing him.

“I thought about you the night I finally met you.” You say it right near his erection, your warm breath skating over him, making him shiver.

“And the night that Murph fucked that blonde girl? I imagined you here, fucking me at the same time.” Your tongue darts out and licks against him, teasing, lapping up the precum that’s leaked out of him. Benny groans, and his hips judder upward, but you’re already moving away. Pressing a kiss on his belly, right below his navel. Then above it. Up his sternum, his chest, his collarbones, and your lower body is hovering over his now.

“How would I have fucked you that night?” Benny manages, but it comes out strained. You lower your weight on him, and he feels how wet you are, your panties drenched as you slide against his erection. Back and forth, teasing him. Torturing him.

“On all fours,” you reply. You suck a line of wet kisses along the side of his neck, mouthing at his tattoo there. He feels your teeth, your tongue. Feels your words sink into him when you add, “your hand on the back of my neck, holding me down against the mattress.”

“Fuck, baby—”

“So deep that I can feel you in my throat. So deep I can taste you.” You bite the tendon between his neck and shoulder, and he groans, reaches up. Slides his hand against the back of your skull and holds you there. You continue rocking against him, sliding against his cock, and he’s glad for the pot because it always keeping him from coming too soon.

The pot also makes it difficult for him to focus completely. The word taste lodges in his mind, and his thoughts drift in that direction and settle there. He holds your hips for a moment, but then he reaches up to gently untangle you from where you’re kissing him, and he sits up underneath you. You smile at him, your lips swollen, and ask what he wants.

“Wanna taste you.” He reverses it back on you—he bends his head and kisses your neck, sets his teeth against the soft skin of your throat and makes you whine. “Can I?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Lie down then.”

You do as you’re told, and Benny detours to your tits, has you arch off the bed enough to undo your bra and toss it aside. He puts his mouth to you, thinks of it as a preview for you. He lowers his head and nuzzles against your soft skin. He drags his tongue over the curves of you, breathes against the wet line of spit, and smiles when you whine again. He blows against one nipple, then the other, then wraps his lip against one. Rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, pinches lightly until you hiss. Switches to the other: his mouth on one, his hand pinching the other, and you making the sweetest goddamned noises he’s ever heard.

He makes his way lower. He nuzzles here too, feels the delicious damp of your panties. Takes a deep, blatant inhale of you, and it sets you squirming underneath him. Eager.

Benny hooks his hands under the waistband and draws them down your legs, and you lift your hips to help. Completely bare now, he rocks back on his heels to look his fill, and his earlier assessment was correct.

“Perfect,” he mutters, and the praise makes you squirm, makes you fix him with a heavy gaze.

Makes you part your legs as he stares down at you, drawing his eyes to where you’re already a mess just from fooling around with him. You’re so fucking wet, your arousal slick on your inner thighs, and Benny is too stoned to finesse it: he just dives in, clumsy and impatient, his facial hair rasping over your sensitive folds.

“God, Ben,” you moan. He feels your hands on his head, and you tug against his hair. Pull him firmer against your hot flesh. He doesn’t need any convincing.

Eating pussy is generally one of his favorite moves in the bedroom. Men who get squeamish about it mystify Benny; to him, there’s nothing hotter than literally tasting a partner. To putting one’s mouth to a person. When he was much younger, he could get off just by eating a partner out, and it never bothered him when he did.

It helps when his partner is so damned into it too. Benny’s been with partners who didn’t like it, too traumatized by previous boyfriends who gave them shit about it. You? You’re all in. You steer his head bossily, and he’s happily led. You moan and swear in equal message; you groan out his name and praise and gentle instructions on what to do more of.

He works the flat of his tongue over your seam, and he reaches with a hand to part your folds to reveal the slick inner core of you. He laps at your hole, then draws his tongue upward to swirl around your clit.

“So good, Benny,” you sigh. “Oh, just like that. Please. Don’t…fuck, don’t stop.”

He sets that rhythm, over and over. He adds a thick finger, slips it into your clenching heat, and he groans at the feel of you, of being inside you. It makes your hips press upwards, makes you breathe out his name, so he adds a second finger, lazily slides them in and out of you as he laps up and down your slit. He wraps his lips around the firm bud of your clit and suckles. You lift your hips again, chasing the sensation, and he chuckles.

“Good?” he growls against your core, and you whine out yes, so good, so fucking good.

“Better than Murph?”

His words don’t give you pause—you go with it. “Yes,” you whisper. You sound wrecked, halfway fucked-out, and he hasn’t even gotten his cock in you yet. “Y-you’re better.”

“Fuck yeah I am.” He pushes his two fingers deep inside you and feels the answering clench of your cunt. He crooks them, rubs his fingertips against you from the inside, tests different spots. Finds it a moment later when a fresh pulse of cum coats his fingers, enough to slick into his palm.

“Murph ever find this?” he asks as he presses against your g-spot.

“N-never.”

“But I did.”

Another press of your hips, seeking more, needing more. “You did. Feels so good, Ben.”

“Gonna come like this?” He peers up at you from between your thighs and takes in your wrecked expression.

“I’m close,” you warn him.

“Then let me have it,” he replies. “Wanna taste you coming in my mouth.”

It only takes another moment, and you do what he says here too: you tighten your grip on his hair, almost to the point of pain. You moan his name, and then you come. Your thighs clamp shut around his head, and there’s a moment where he’s deprived of enough oxygen that he sees sparks in his peripherals. He grins at the thought of passing out between your legs. Your orgasm sends a fresh pulse of arousal, and he laps it up as you tremble above him.

Benny makes his way back up to you, and your hands tug him down. You kiss him deeply, and you must taste yourself on his tongue because you moan against his mouth.

You break the kiss and smile up at him as he catches his breath. Your hands stroke his shoulders, and your fingertips scratch against his head. It’s been so long since he’s been touched, he practically purrs under your attention.

“Still good?” you ask.

“You know it.”

“There’s condoms in the nightstand if you want more.”

Yes, Benny wants more.

-----

He gets you on all fours, just as you said you imagined. He rolls a condom onto himself, gives himself a few experimental pumps with his fist as you shuffle backwards towards him.

“Now, like you said.” Benny lays a palm along the back of your neck and pushes you down gently until your head is turned and your cheek is pressed against the mattress. “Like that.”

He can hear how turned on you are when you echo, you’re voice heavy with desire, “just like that.”

“Good?”

“Perfect.” You wriggle your ass at him, tempting him, and it doesn’t take much. He grips his cock with his other hand, swipes the tip through your slick. He teases it a bit, teasing the broad head of his cock along your plump lips, pushes the barest bit into you but then pulls out. Does it until you whine, and there’s a threatening tone underneath the simpering. Like there’s only so far he can tease you.

He enters you as slowly as he can. He wants to feel every inch of you, and he stares down at where he splits you open, where he disappears into your body. He can feel you try to push back and rush it; the only thing stopping you is his hand on the back of your neck holding you firm.

“Benny…” It’s a drawn out whine. A pleading tone.

“Patience, baby.” Benny grits his teeth and slides the last inch home, his cock buried to the root, his hips flush against you. “There we are.”

He feels how tight you are against him, the little twitches against him as you mold to the shape of his cock. If the analogy is a cliché, so be it: it’s a perfect fit, a key made for a lock. He releases his hold on your neck and skates his fingertips down the bumps of your spine. You shiver against the sensation, and he smacks your ass lightly a beat later.

“Benny, c’mon.” Another whine. “Please.”

“Please what?” He smacks you again, not hard, and then he sinks his fingertips into the swell of your hips. Holds you tight against him but only to stop you from moving.

“Please fuck me.”

“Yeah?” He draws out an inch, thrusts back into you. “Like that?”

It makes you groan, the sound coming from deep inside you, deep in your belly. “Just like that. Just like that, please.”

He does it again: pulls out a fraction, slides back in, hard and firm. “Feel good?”

“Fuck yes.”

Again. Hard enough to jar you forward a bit, and his hands on your hips pull you back. “You ever been fucked like this?”

“N-no.”

Again, and he pulls out halfway and pauses. Looks down at where his cock glistens with your arousal, where your cunt twitches and spasms against him. Struggling to push him out or pull him in, he can’t say for sure. He pushes forward and pulls you back in one motion, and it knocks the wind out of you, pushes out a guttural moan.

“Murph never fuck you like this?” He repeats it, a hard thrust that makes you keen this time, then he holds it, buried as far inside you as he can go. He pulses forward, feels where the base of him grinds against your clit, where his heavy balls press against you.

“Never. Never!” Your voice is higher, reedy. Breathless. “God, Ben—”

“He’s gonna fuck you after I leave, isn’t he?” There’s a filament of jealous burning in him. He doesn’t understand this cuckolding kink from the other side of things. If you were his, he’d fucking make you his. He wouldn’t fool around at hotel parties like Murph did; he’d be right here with you, keeping you stuffed full of him, satiated.

He also doesn’t understand the possession side of things, why it’s such a bad thing. Of course you belong to yourself. When he says you’re mine, Benny means a hundred nuanced things. He means that he’s also yours, that you belong to each other not in an ownership way but in a way he can’t quite express without sounding like some antiquated asshole. That you’re his to keep safe, to love, to take care of, just as he’d be yours to keep safe and love and care for.

Of course, you aren’t his anyway, and he’s not yours. This is a borrowed moment, so he deals you a handful of deep, slow thrusts, his cock hitting the end of you and making you whimper each time.

“He’s coming over after this, right?” Benny asks it again. He wants you to say it.

“Yes.”

“He gonna fuck you this good?”

You shake your head against the bedding. “Nuh-uh.”

Benny pulls you tight against him, and he grinds himself into you, pushes every fraction of himself into your clenching heat. You’re so fucking wet that it goes a brush easier, but he can’t know that he’s deeper than any man’s ever been, that he’s nudging against the mouth of your womb, and that you’re thinking no, Murph’s never fucked me this good because he’s never been so deep inside me, and it’s just like I imagined that time—I can feel Benny in my chest, in my throat.

Benny knows none of what you’re thinking. Instead, he reaches down and grasps you under your arms. He hauls you off your hands and up to where he is. He wraps his arms around your torso, holds you—your back to his chest—and he whispers in your ear, “good. No one will ever fuck you as good as this.”

You turn your head. He can see the fucked-out look on your face, the dazed expression, the teary eyes. Your lips parted as you pant, breathless, then agree with him. Echo his words, tell him, “no one will ever fuck me as good as you, Ben.”

It ends too quickly after that. Even with the pot delaying his pleasure, Benny can’t put it off forever. He feels you as your second orgasm approaches, the way you tighten up against where he’s bouncing you against his cock. Then, a beat later, you come, and the walls of your cunt ripple against him like you’re trying to pull him into you. Like you’re trying to consume him, and Benny thinks he wouldn’t mind being consumed by you.

His own orgasm is quick to follow yours. He feels the telltale heaviness in his gut, the taut tightening of his balls. In the split second before it breaks around him, he wishes he hadn’t worn a condom. He wishes he could come inside you, fill you up with himself, leave you a mess for when Murph visits you later.

He wishes the other man could see you looking blissed-out and satisfied, then could look down and see Benny’s cum trickling out of you.

The mental image—you filled with his spend, the mess of it as it drips from your body—is what pushes him over the edge. The tension in him snaps, and he pushes in as deeply as he can as he come harmlessly in the latex.

-----

If Murph is due at any point afterwards, Benny can’t tell what the timeline is. You don’t rush him out. You don’t harry him along so your real boyfriend can come and take his turn.

In fact, it’s a lazy post-coital scene. He helps you clean up. He spends a long moment in your bathroom, sobering up and gazing at his own reflection. This was a bad idea, he thinks now that his orgasm is behind him.

There’s too much jealousy but not with the people he’d assume. He’s the one that burns with jealousy. It's a cuckolding kink that has somehow boomeranged around to hit him, not Murph.

But back in the bedroom, you’re stretched out and sated, a lazy smile on your lips. You pat the empty space beside you, and Benny takes it. He puts an arm out and you curl up against his side, then he wraps his arm around you.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Mmm-hmm. You?”

“Oh yeah.” You turn your head and kiss him above his collarbone. “You’re great, you know.”

Benny hums at that but says nothing. You must read something in it, because you ask, “is this going to be a problem?”

What’s the point in lying? There’s a hot ball of jealousy sitting like lead in his gut, and it’s not what it was supposed to be. He was supposed to have a fun little interlude, then go home. So why’s he the one feeling like he’s being cuckholded?

“I don’t want it to be a problem,” he answers honestly.

You hear the unspoken “but” in his reply, and you urge him to explain.

“Maybe I wasn’t the best guy for this sort of game.”

“Why not?”

How should he put it? He's got two divorces under his belt. It should be obvious.

“Because I fall pretty easily, I guess,” he replies.

You twist in his hold and settle your chin on his chest so you can gaze up at him. “This wasn’t a game, you know.”

Benny snorts. “No?”

“Murph and I have an open thing.”

“And you wanted a guy to fuck you so he could play around with being jealous about it.”

You shake your head faintly. “You’re missing the point, Benny. I wanted to be with you. The cuckholding was secondary. It’s not the other way around. I wasn’t looking for a guy for the sake of cuckholding Murph. I was looking to be with you first and foremost.”

It gives him the barest bit of comfort, but you still sense his confusion. You sigh and push away from him, and you leave the room for a moment. When you return, you have your phone in your hand, and you’re typing as you walk back to the bed.

“There,” you say. You set the phone down on the nightstand, then crawl back in to lie down beside him.

“There what?”

“There…I texted Murph. Told him not to come over.”

“But—”

“He sent back a thumbs up.” You strain to brush a kiss onto his frowning mouth. “It’s all good, Benny.”

He furrows his brow because he can’t quite believe you, and he tells you so, which makes you sigh again but smile.

“It’s an open thing. It’s not serious. He messes around with other women, I mess around with other men, and sometimes our outside stuff overlaps, but usually it doesn’t.”

“You sure?”

You nod, and you kiss him again. Softly. Lingering. “I promise,” you assure him when you break away.

“I’m sorry to mess it up.” Benny had been prepared to slink home and lick his wounds, but it turned into a massive non-issue. He feels a sting of guilt all the same.

“Oh, you didn’t.” You snuggle closer to him, the softness of your breasts pressing against his arm. “But now that there’s no time limit on your exit, we could go again.”

Benny’s cock twitches at the thought. “Yeah?”

“Mmm-hmm.” You kiss him again, then run the tip of your tongue over his collarbone. “But maybe this time, you don’t mention Murph at all while we’re fucking.”

“Deal.” Benny reaches his hand and cups your breast, tests the weight of it in his palm. Runs the pad of his thumb over your hardening peak.

The second time that night, it goes slower. It’s softer: gentle movements against each other, and without the specter of Murph in the room—glowering from the corner, the cuckold—it’s an entirely different experience. It’s quieter but deeper, more intimate, and when he comes a second time, Benny doesn’t think of the other man at all.

He falls asleep, though he doesn’t mean to. He means to go home either way that night, but he falls asleep with you in his arms, with your arms around him, and the thought that he falls asleep to is this: maybe he’s old-fashioned and maybe he falls too easily, but you could be his, and he could be yours, and it might be amazing if he could convince you to consider it.

#benny magalon #benny magalon x reader #murph connors #murph connors x reader #den of thieves #fic

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dixons-sunshine · 5 months ago

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Make A Move | Murphy MacManus x Fem!Reader

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

Genre: Fluff.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 2.1k.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, about Y/N! ‘Bout how she...”

“She looks...”

“Yeah, she looks...”

“Real cute in that dress.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Murphy shrugged and looked down. “Nothin’.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s still impressive, though.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#murphy the boondock saints #murphy macmanus x female reader #murphy x reader #murphy macmanus x reader #murphy macmanus #murphy macmanus x fem!reader #the boondock saints #boondock saints #norman reedus

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 month ago

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

Part 1

Pairing: Murphy MacManus x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence; Blood and injury; That damn iron; Suggestive themes

Summary: “If love is what you need, a soldier I will be”

A/N: Finally, after a year. I hope it was worth the wait. I'm a little proud of it, so I hope you are too.

“Supermarkets are the worst.” You had just returned from grocery shopping, placing one bag at your feet in order to fish your keys from your pocket. Door unlocked, you went inside and placed the first bag on the countertop and returned for the next. Your fingers had just gripped the top of the bag when the old elevator dinged and two men stumbled out.

“Still with me, dear brother?” The one with lighter hair asked in a thick Irish accent. He was all but dragging the second man against his side. Both were bleeding. You had only seen that amount of blood on a person in the movies.

“Aye.” The man with the darker hair rasped without lifting his head. You barely heard it.

“Hey, uh—should I call an ambulance?” You straightened, groceries all but forgotten in favor of possibly being of some assistance.

“Kind of you, lass, but we’ll be just fine once we—” The light-haired one staggered when any aid the other offered in carrying his own weight suddenly vanished. “Murph? Murphy? Fuck!” Their trek to their own unit had come to an abrupt halt, the dark-haired one now limp as a ragdoll.

“I’m calling an ambulance!” You had barely stepped into your door when he called after you, a frantic edge to his voice.

“I beg you, please don’t.” He adjusted his grip on the other, still appearing as if the weight might take him down.

“Are you, uh—are the two of you in some sort of trouble?” That was a ridiculous question. There were bloody prints leading from the elevator, their clothes saturated, rivulets dripping onto the cheap linoleum flooring. “Just—here, come inside.” He studied you with narrowed blue eyes. You could tell a refusal sat on the tip of his tongue, but the other man coughed in a spray of crimson.

“Damnit.” He cursed.

You snatched up the other bag of groceries and jogged over to the countertop, depositing it roughly. You needed a blanket, towels, water, and your pitiful excuse for a first aid kit. “Blanket. Blanket, blanket, blanket.” The top of the hallway closet was difficult to reach for you, half the contents spilling out onto your head when you tugged on the quilt’s edge.

“Let me put this on the couch. You can lay him there.” You rambled quickly in passing. The man was dragging the other with some measure of difficulty and had just crossed into the doorway as you spread out the blanket. Without really thinking, you sprinted over to drape the other arm across your shoulder and take some of the burden.

“Thank you, lass. Heavier than he looks, my brother.”

The trek to the couch was more coordinated with your help and soon the stranger was lying prone, breaths shallow and skin pale. There was so much blood but it was alarmingly obvious that it was not all his.

“I have a first aid kit but I’m not sure it’ll—”

“Have all we need in our own place. Start cleaning what you can see, I’ll fetch the iron and bandages.”

You blinked, your hand stilling just over the man’s shirt. “Iron? As in tablets or—?”

He shrugged, expression grim. “I’m Connor. That’s my brother Murphy.”

“I’m—” He was already gone. “I’m Y/N.” You sighed and started picking at the saturated clothing. Most of the injuries were shallow, superficial. The bullet wound to his left flank, however, was immediate cause for concern. It was not through and through. “Okay, Murphy. It’d be nice to get some answers because my boring day just got really interesting, really fast and my head isn’t equipped for this much chaos.”

Using the scissors from the kit, you cut away his shirt and spread the two sides. A rosary hung from his neck, long enough to slide from his chest and over his arm. You didn’t remove it, that didn’t feel right. Handling it carefully, you let it hang over the couch arm. By the time Connor returned, you had wiped away most of the blood and were pressing a towel against the hole in his side.

He placed an iron—that’s a fucking iron iron—on the coffee table with some gauze. As he drew away his hand, you noticed the blood seeping out from beneath the sleeve of his black coat, dripping from the tips of his fingers.

“Are you hurt too?”

“Aye, but it’ll keep. Murph first.” Connor hovered, blue eyes flitting back and forth between the saturated towel and his brother’s slack face.

“You realize I have no idea what I’m doing, right?” You lifted the towel and winced at the thick crimson bubble that broke into a stream trickling down his side.

“Between the two of us, we’ll have him right as rain, lass.”

“Right.” You sighed heavily, pressing the towel against the wound once again. “I suppose the bullet needs to come out.”

“Aye.” He scrubbed his unsullied hand over his face.

“And how exactly do we do that?” The corner of your bottom lip found its way between your teeth. How exactly did you end up in this position? Two strangers, bruised and bleeding, in your apartment. Sure, you weren’t exactly in the best neighborhood and you didn’t own a penthouse, but the place had proven to be safe enough. Mostly quiet.

You had never seen the men before. You knew there were other tenants, but you had never met any of them. You were perfectly content in your little bubble of solitude.

But then there you were, a man bleeding out on your couch, his brother using a pair of needle-nose pliers to dig into a gunshot wound—thank god you had managed to take it long enough to clean the tool with some rubbing alcohol.

“Got it.” He announced triumphantly, holding up the bloody slug. Both were discarded onto your coffee table as if it were a surgical tray. The unconscious brother hadn’t moved an inch, his skin pale, clammy, and damp with perspiration. He didn’t look well at all.

“Are you sure about an ambulance? He isn’t looking so hot.” You were headed toward the kitchen, hastily grabbing a dish towel and wetting it under the tap.

“I’m sure, lass.” Connor replied. When you returned, he was plugging the cord of the iron into the socket closest to the couch.

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” You slid onto the couch by Murphy’s hip folding the towel. “You’re not actually going to burn him, are you?” Dabbing the sweat from the other man’s forehead, you felt nauseous at seeing Connor approach from the corner of your eye. “Can’t we just stitch it?”

“He’s bleedin’, love. It’s needin’ to be stopped.”

“Shit.” Choosing to stay seated where you were, you helped shift Murphy onto his right side but swiftly turned your head as the iron came down. The sizzling sound was horrible enough but the second the smell of burning flesh wafted into your nostrils, you gagged. How was Murphy remaining unconscious through it?

“It’s done.”

“Good. Go me for keeping down my lunch.” You panted. “Let’s, uh—let’s get him all bandaged and then I can look at you.” Connor nodded, gingerly removing his coat. “Don’t expect me to use the iron.”

The apartment was cast in shadows, the moon beginning its shift. Connor had fallen asleep not long after you had, indeed, used the iron on his arm. Unfortunately, your lunch did not survive the second onslaught of burning flesh.

You had finally been granted an opportunity to put away your groceries. Why you had also felt the need to clean up the blood in the hall and the elevator was beyond you, though the crimson trail leading right to your door might have had something to do with it. It was a miracle no one had been on the lift since the brothers. Well, not really. The building had few tenants. After that task, you had told yourself to keep your eyes on the men, but the sight and smell of blood on your skin proved to be very persuasive in the mental argument on whether or not to shower.

Your hair was still damp by the time you sank into the chair opposite of where Connor slept. The brothers were exhausted, as were you, but at least you had no injuries. You’d love nothing more than to crawl into your bed, but showering was one thing. Sleeping was an entirely different matter.

Maybe you should have called the cops. It was logical. These men were obviously into some bad stuff. Still, there was something about them, something you couldn’t put your finger on. Something good. To sense something like that when one of them had yet to speak to you—well, it was curious.

And curiosity killed the cat.

Lost in your thoughts, you must have allowed your eyes to close at some point. The next moment of awareness you could identify was met with a deep groan. Connor was still asleep in the same position you had last seen him. Murphy, however, was sitting up, arms draped across his knees with his head hanging.

“Murphy?” You uttered, sliding to the edge of your chair.

He was a little slow to react, expression dazed as he sought you out. He lingered on Connor for a moment, the little tension—you hadn’t even noticed—in his shoulders visibly dissipated. Once his gaze found you, you immediately noticed how the moonlight made the same blue eyes you had seen on Connor appear more silver.

“Who are you?” He croaked, clearing his throat with a hand flying to his left side.

“I’m Y/N. I, uh—your brother brought you here.” Feeling nervous without Connor awake to corroborate your story, you rubbed at the back of your neck. “You were really hurt and he didn’t want an ambulance.”

“Turn us in then, will you?”

“If I was going to turn you in, I would have done it before the iron was plugged in.” You curled your lip at the memory of the stench. “I think I’m traumatized.” The man chuckled quietly, dropping his head again. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Aye.” He sounded exhausted. Being unconscious was likely not as restful as a decent night’s sleep. “Water would be nice, lass.”

“Sure.” Pushing yourself out of the chair, you crossed in front of him on your way to the kitchen. His hand moved faster than you thought him capable of given his current state, wrapping around your wrist in a touch that could only be described as tender. You jerked to a halt and dropped your head to regard him, finding him looking right back at you. God, the man was handsome.

“Thank you.” He offered, his accent thick and sweet like honey. You barely suppressed a shiver. “Truly.”

“It’s no big deal.” It was very much a big deal. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into, but you were surprised to find that when he let go, you missed the warmth of his touch, replaced by the tingle it left in its wake. Maybe you had been alone too long. That had to be it. With a soft upward tilt of your lips, you continued to the kitchen, the glass quickly filled to the brim and spilling over onto your hand whilst you found yourself staring at the dark-haired brother. No, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into, but you were quickly going to find out.

“I’m not saying it’s wrong, I’m just saying that not everyone wants to get wasted just because it’s Saint Patrick’s Day.” You smiled over the rim of your glass, opting for a soda instead of beer, much to the MacManus brothers’ dismay.

“You bite your tongue, lass.” Connor feigned offense, a hand splayed dramatically over his chest. Murphy was shaking his head beside his twin.

“Oh, stop clutching your pearls, Con.” You jested, throwing a foot out from the rest at the lower part of the stool to playfully nudge the toe of your boot against his shin.

“Everyone’s Irish on Saint Patty’s day, love.” With a nod toward Doc, another beer was slid straight into Murphy's hand. “It won’t hurt you to have a little fun.” When he stepped into your space to offer the drink, you had no control when your eyes flitted to his lips and back, orbs dancing back and forth as if comparing the two pools of brilliant blue that stared with a suffocating intensity. The corner of his mouth slid up into a smirk that had you tingling in all the right places.

Over the past few months, you had grown close to the brothers, more so with Murphy. He would separate himself from his twin to visit your apartment more than you visited theirs. Quiet conversations, moving closer to one another on the couch with each social call. It wasn’t long before you were perched with your legs folded beneath you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and your head on his chest. It was just dialogue, catching one another up on the events of the day.

He was open about their efforts to rid the city of those that caused harm to the innocent. While you didn’t understand how they could just walk around, unbothered and unrecognized, you found yourself comfortable with what they did. You helped treat their wounds and offered your apartment as a safe haven, should one of their targets send someone to act violently in their stead. The aggressors had no reason to suspect you. Aside from the bar, you were never seen with them. Murphy made sure of it.

“Just one drink, lass.” He insisted. You knew he would back off if you said the word, so you didn’t feel pressured, just persuaded. With a roll of your eyes, you lifted the glass to your mouth and made a show of taking the first sip. “Hurá!” He exclaimed, weaving his arms underneath yours to lift you off the stool.

“Murphy!” Your beer sloshed in the glass, spilling over the rim and onto your jacket. “Aw, man!” You pouted, opting to stand when he attempted to place you back on the stool. You unzipped and pulled off the article with a huff, revealing your bright green shirt with gold lettering of Kiss Me, I’m Irish.

“What’s this, love?” Murphy chuckled, his eyes so obviously on your chest.

“It’s a shirt. More specifically, those are my boobs.” His eyes flitted up to your face, that smirk returning. The man had no shame. For Catholics, the brothers had some questionable morals.

The drinking went on well after the doors had been locked and the open sign extinguished. You were still nursing your first beer—barely buzzed—the twins too drunk to notice. It was your first Saint Patrick’s Day with the small group, Doc the only one other than you that was resembling anything close to sober.

When the dark-haired brother staggered toward you, throwing an arm across your shoulders and pulling you into his side, you decided they needed to be cut off.

“Okay, boys, last call.”

Romeo was protesting loudly to the old man, but your focus was on the brothers. While you knew you needed to accompany them home, it would be the first time you would be with them on the streets.

Before you could give it too much thought, Murphy was spinning you, hands on your shoulders at arm's length, eyes unfocused and a drunken flush to his cheeks. With a face too serious to be genuine, he ran a finger over the golden four leaf clover just below your breasts.

“Tell me, love. Do you have any Irish in you?” His attempt at stoicism was bellied by his slurred syllables.

“No, Murph. I don’t.”

“Would you care for some?” A lopsided smile formed regardless of his obvious attempts to hold it at bay. You patted his arm with a shake of your head.

“You’re wasted. Time to get you boys home.” There was a shimmer of disappointment in those blue eyes, so profound that you almost wished you could show your own dismay. Your feelings for Murphy were strong—unnamed but strong. It had been years since your last relationship, one so devastating that you weren’t sure what love was supposed to feel like anymore. Maybe you were simply drawn to his mystery, his ability to make you feel anything at all.

“It’s early yet.” It was a weak argument, the pout he pinned you with proving his knowledge of it.

You pointed toward the door and grabbed your jacket. “Walk, MacManus.” The man grumbled beneath his breath but still staggered to where Connor impatiently protested by the door.

“Get a room, little brother.” He slurred.

“I came out first. Settled this, I thought.” Murphy was quick to correct.

Rolling your eyes as the bickering continued, you steered both of them out the door, calling back a night, Doc over your shoulder. The night air was still chilly for March. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, the scent of beer strong from the spilled drink earlier.

“What’s on your mind, love?” You felt the weight of Murphy’s arm across your shoulders before you even realized he had shifted closer, his stumbling pushing you off balance.

“The hope of staying vertical while chaperoning a set of drunk twins.” Using your elbow, you pushed him aside, reaching for his black peacoat to keep him on his feet. Chuckling, you wound your arm around through his. “Let’s just focus on getting you two home and in bed.”

“Whoa there, lass.” Connor interjected, his arm falling around your shoulders. “We draw the line at falling into bed together with one woman.”

“Oh my god!” You threw back your head with a drawn out exasperated noise. “You’re insufferable.” Bracketed between the brothers, you kept up the slow pace toward the apartment building.

With Conner face-down and snoring into his pillow, you turned your attention toward Murphy, who was currently attempting to fight his way out of his coat. Your smile was fond, your capable hands grabbing his forearms.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You laughed, stilling his movements. His lopsided smile never wavered while you helped him. “Stop smiling, you idiot.”

“You’d rather I frown then?” The deliberate pout was something beyond adorable. With a snort, you dislodged his arms and held out the article of clothing.

“Time for bed, Murph.” Rubbing his left eye with a fist, the Irishman finally appeared as if he would acquiesce. “Goodnight.” Your arms slid around his neck and you squeezed lightly. As you made to retreat, his own arm slid around your waist and held fast. “Murphy?”

“Stay.” He had angled his head, his lips against the shell of your ear. You could smell the Guiness and cigarettes on his breath, a surprising tonic that made him almost irresistible.

Almost.

“I need to go. And you need to sleep.” His other arm wrapped around the middle of your back, both holding loosely. You knew he’d release you if you willed it.

“Stay.” He said again, nuzzling the side of your head. The heat of his body was rapidly melting your defenses. The last thing you wanted was to wake up to Connor’s jibing at Murphy’s expense—though it wouldn’t be the first time. The two were just such children sometimes.

However, as his hands languidly explored your back, you felt that snuggling was not what was on his mind that night. That made it easy to unwrap yourself from his hold and step out of reach. Though you had told yourself long ago that you would take that leap with him without hesitation should he ever offer, he was drunk. It wasn’t even a consideration.

“You don’t want me to stay, Murph. Not like this.” Needing one last touch, you patted his cheek and nearly melted when he leaned into your palm.

“I do, lass.” He retorted, staggering when your hand pulled away. You chuckled.

“If you still feel that way in the morning, you know where to find me.”

“Y/N.” He called as you opened the door, pausing to cast him a gentle smile, disappointment hiding just behind it.

“Goodnight, Murphy.” Once in the hall, you pressed your back against the door and closed your eyes. If only the words could have left a sober tongue, you would have stayed. No, you would have invited him back to your own apartment where privacy wouldn’t have been a concern.

You wondered how his lips would feel on yours as you pulled out your keys and unlocked your door. How would his hands feel on your skin? His mouth? How would he taste? You imagined the sounds he would make, the breaths and moans.

Slamming your keys down onto the countertop, you shook your head. “Get a grip, Y/N! He’s your best friend and he’s drunk!” When a whisper of your name, breathless and blissed out echoed in your head, you muttered to yourself, “okay, I need a cold shower.”

The water was lukewarm at best, but did little to cool your skin, flushed with arousal. You shouldn’t have been thinking of Murphy as you lathered up your body, or when your hand ventured between your thighs, but you couldn’t help it. He was all you had ever wanted: kind, loyal, funny, and exquisitely handsome. Reaching the precipice within moments, it didn’t take long for the shame to descend upon you, the guilt of imagining your friend in such a manner.

“Fuck.” You cursed your weakness, the fragility of your defenses when it came to the opposite sex. You had been burned so many times that it was only natural to assume that anything changing in your relationship with the man—including those depraved thoughts—would destroy what you had built with him.

Clean—at least physically—you crawled into bed and pulled your sheets up to your chin, covering your face with your hands. This had to stop. You were torturing yourself, it was bound to seep into reality eventually, ruining everything and ejecting him from your life.

It wasn’t until there came a knock on your door that you jolted awake, only then realizing that you had fallen asleep. The morning light crept across the floor and laid warm against the sheets. You could stay there, warm and safe, and you could stay away from Murphy—at least until you could rid yourself of your yearning for him and what could never be.

The knock came again.

It was early, maybe 6am. The boys wouldn’t have even rolled over in their beds. So who was at your door?

“Hold your horses!” You barked, clambering out of bed and grabbing blindly for your robe. The front untied, you were in your camisole, sleep shorts, and bunny slippers, the soles loudly scuffing the floor as you reached for the doorknob. “Yeah?” You asked lazily, scratching at your disheveled mane with one eye closed.

The man wasn’t small. He was big and burly, donned in a trench coat over his button-up and slacks, the shoulder rig holding his twin pistols visible just behind the double breasted buttons. His grin was wicked.

“You’re not here to sell me Girl Scout cookies, are you?” You squeaked, immediately attempting to slam the door but he was faster with a boot over the threshold. “Mur—” You tried to yell before he tackled you with a hand over your mouth.

“Boys!” He grunted, his meaty fingers nearly covering your nose as well. It was difficult to breathe. Three more men entered, gazing around your apartment. None of their weapons were drawn. There was no way they could know that the boys lived just down the hall. “Give it a good going over. We want them to know that we were here.” His thick accent was easily recognizable. Italian.

Your eyes watered from how wide you held them, watching the goons raze your possessions as you were hauled to your feet, hand still silencing you.

“Are we gonna kill her, Luca? Send a message?” One of the men asked as he stepped on your jewelry box. You began to struggle, shouting behind the large palm until the cold muzzle of a gun was pressed roughly into your temple.

“Not unless she doesn’t leave us a choice.” Then his sour breath was against your ear, the biting metal of the gun grinding against your skull. “You hear that, doll? You be a good girl and you’ll get to live. For now, at least.” He released you and uncovered your mouth, and you sank your teeth into your lip.

Yeah, fuck that.

Stomping his foot, you threw back a fist and connected with his groin, bolting for the door when he doubled over with a shout.

“Murphy! Murphy, Connor! Help! Mur—” Your path was blocked, a hand fisting into your hair to slam you against the unforgiving wall.

“Don’t kill her!” Luca ordered, catching his breath with a hand still cupping his crotch. “Boss wants her alive. Bait for the Saints.” Once he recovered, the bastard grabbed your arm and sharply yanked you away from the other man. The back of his hand snapped your head to the side. You fell onto your hip, catching yourself on your hands with a misting spray of blood from your mouth. “Behave, bitch, or I’ll just have to tell the boss that you pulled a gun and I had to put a few holes in you.”

“Fuck you.” You spat.

“Maybe. We’ll see how the night goes.” He smirked, slapping your throbbing cheek with a mocking pat before giving the room a once over. “That’s enough. Let’s get out of here before—”

The first shot came from the doorway, the sound muted by the long silencer on a handgun held just in view. The thump of a body hitting the floor from your right made you flinch. Murphy was still fully dressed, t-shirt and jeans rumpled from sleep, while Connor donned only his boxer shorts. Not exactly rescue attire, but you would laugh about it later.

Hopefully.

“Get down, lass!” Connor shouted as he stepped into the room. After an elbow to Luca’s gut, you dropped and curled in on yourself, arms wrapping around your head.

You didn’t dare watch the scene, the gunfire being enough of a motivator to keep you pinned to the floor. Something heavy hit your thigh and drew out a cry of protest. That was going to leave a bruise but it was substantially better than a bullet wound. If some contusions and lacerations were the extent of your injuries, you’d be fortunate.

Your belongings were shattering, wall plaster crumbling. There was shouting, wails of pain and rage. And you were cowering on the cold floor, your thoughts a myriad of fear, distress. The brothers could be dying and you were doing nothing.

Three quick huffs through your mouth, you amped yourself up but just as you unfolded, the room went silent. Was it over? Where were the boys? Palms on the floor, you dared to raise your head just as a hand softly gripped your arm. You drew back a fist. Fight or flight had been activated and you’d be damned if you’d run.

“Easy, love.” Murphy’s hand wrapped around your clenched one, gently urging you to lower it. “It’s over. You’re safe, but we need to leave.” Striking blue eyes gave you a once over. “Can you stand?” You nodded. “Up we get then.”

“Are you okay?” You inquired, dizzy with concern and a possible concussion. There was a cut on his cheek,—the graze of a bullet—blood trickling down his jaw.

“Right as rain, lass.” His hand dropped yours in favor of clasping your chin, turning your head left and right. You still tasted the iron on your tongue, felt the sting of the hand that had struck you.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

Connor shuffling behind him, Murphy narrowed his eyes. It was a moment before he seemed to accept your response and stepped around to your side. Hand pressed against the small of your back, he steered you towards the door.

“Let’s go then.”

#murda writes #murphy macmanus #murphy macmanus x reader #murphy macmanus x female reader #boondock saints #the boondock saints #Spotify

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star-wrote · 6 months ago

Note

ANYFING WITH FLUFFY MUEPHY MACMANUS PLES PLES PLES PLES LMAOOO

Mo Stór

ao3 link

Characters: Murphy MacManus x Fem!Reader

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

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

Word Count: 817

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mo stór.” Murphy interrupts the silence.

You smile at him. “What’s that?”

“My darling.”

You kiss his forehead. “Yeah, I am.”

He smiles and kisses your lips gently.

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

Without hesitation, he answers, “I would.”

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

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

He grabs your hand and kisses the top of it.

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

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

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

You giggle and then nod.

“Let’s do it.”

#murphy macmanus #murphy macmanus x reader #murphy macmanus x fem!reader #norman reedus #the boondock saints #boondock saints #fluff #daryl dixon

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phoenix761fics · 1 year ago

Text

Getting Mouthy

Much longer ago than I care to think about at this point, I hit 400 followers on my main blog and decided to celebrate by taking smut requests. I wrote three and posted one before the huge ass block that shut me down for years settled in for real. She's not active anymore, but the lovely lovely kitkat-589 requested Murphy MacManus and dirty talk. I held off on posting in the hope I could finish a few more pieces and make it a proper event, but finally setting it loose sounds like a much better idea.

Pairing: Murphy x reader

Summary: Murphy isn't the only one in trouble when he runs his mouth

Word count: 1100ish

Tags: language, teasing, dirty talk, Murphy MacManus is a little shit

The crowd at McGinty's was loud and rowdy, but Murphy leaned in closer so she wouldn't miss a word. "Ye look fuckin amazing," he whispered, smiling as she giggled at the way his breath tickled her skin.

"I barely cleaned up after work," she argued as she gave him a playful shove back over onto his own barstool.

"Ye cleaned up just fine, love," Connor assured her on Murphy's other side. He winked at her as he tapped ash off the end of his cigarette and leaned against the bar. "Ye know ye always look lovely ta us. Now, this fucker, on the other hand…" He jabbed an elbow into Murphy's ribs, and Murphy smacked him over the back of the head in retaliation.

"Just fine," the dark-haired twin scoffed. "Fuckin jackass. Ye're a lot more than 'just fine.' Ye're the finest fuckin thing I've clapped eyes on, an that's a fact."

"How drunk are you, Murph?" she asked with a smile.

"Not even close." He finished off his beer and Doc replaced it without a word, but he hardly noticed, focused as he was on the woman beside him. "So...fuckin...beautiful," he said, and he leaned forward to bury his fingers in her hair and pull her close for a long kiss. She melted into it with a sigh before he drew away again and added, "If we weren't at this fuckin bar, I'd already have ye outta those clothes an beggin me ta fuck ye."

"Murphy!" The admonishment was in a sharp whisper, but her pleased smile belied her reprimand.

"Aye," he went on, "it's true. Been hard for ye since ye walked in here."

"Ssh!" She glanced at Doc, the closest potential eavesdropper, but he had already moved down the bar. "What if someone hears you talking like that?"

"Fuck em. What if we sneak off ta the bathroom an lock the door, an I eat yer pussy til ye're moanin my name? Ye think they'll hear us then?"

She made frantic shushing gestures with her hands, her expression caught between scandalized and aroused.

Murphy edged his barstool closer to hers and wrapped an arm around her, and she was tempted to take him up on his offer by the way he bent his head to her neck and kissed, bit, and sucked at her skin. "Christ, love," he murmured, "the things I wanna do to ye…"

"Lord's name, Murphy," she reminded him. She glanced over at Connor, watching them from his place on Murphy's other side, and he merely shrugged at her with a look that said he'd be in his twin's place already if Murphy hadn't beaten him to it.

"Not ta worry, lass, there's always confession." Murphy's hand slid under her shirt, palm warm against her soft skin as he moved to the small of her back and drew her closer. "An speakin a which," he added softly, "I need ta confess…" His mouth moved up along her neck until he could whisper directly into her ear, "I haven't stopped thinkin about how fuckin good it feels when ye come on my cock since the last time I had ye."

"Murph, that was last night."

"Aye, an I've been thinkin about it ever since."

"You need a hobby."

"Shaggin the livin daylights outta ye is my hobby."

"You need another hobby."

He had all but pulled her into his lap, and she braced with a hand against the bar as he leaned in for a kiss, lips and tongue still tasting of Guinness. "If no one was watchin…" he murmured.

"They are," she reminded him, though she couldn't say if she really cared anymore.

"I'd strip ye bare a little at a time," he went on, "and taste every inch of ye as I did, until I could get ta that beautiful pussy…"

She felt dizzy just listening to him and imagining him doing everything he was saying, or maybe Connor as well, because he still hadn't taken his eyes off her and Murphy.

"I'd tease ye open with my tongue," Murphy continued, pausing to kiss her again and run the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips, "then I'd get a proper taste of ye, an ye'd be so sweet I couldn't help but devour ye."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she shifted slightly on the barstool. God, she was wet…

"I'd suck yer clit until ye squirmed, and fuck ye with my fingers, but I wouldn't let ye come right away."

"Why not?" she asked. She probably knew the answer, but the way he was talking, he might as well say that, too.

"I'd get ye close," he answered, lifting his hand to trace her mouth with the tip of his thumb. "As close as I dared, over an over again until ye're ready ta rip me fuckin lungs out for teasing ye."

She nodded and bit her lip as she tried to ignore the needy ache in her cunt. "Yeah?"

"Aye. An just when ye couldn't take anymore, ye know what I'd do?"

He was killing her… "What would you do?"

He leaned in closer, his eyes piercing into her. "I'd get the fuck outta my clothes as fast as I fuckin could, an I'd ask ye…"

"Yeah?"

That gaze was so intense…

"I'd ask ye, between me an Connor, who do ye think has the bigger cock?"

Connor burst out laughing.

She stared at Murphy, rattled by the conversation and blindsided by the sudden turn, then she turned back to the bar. "Doc!" she called. "Murphy needs to close his tab!"

"What?" Murphy asked, brow furrowed. "What the fuck for?"

"Because," she answered as she looked him over, "you and I are going to get out of here and go home, and I'm going to wind you up and drive you batshit fucking crazy, then leave you hanging until you've had a taste of your own medicine."

"I've warned ye, Murph," Connor chimed in from the stool next door, "ye keep teasing the lass the way ye do, it'll bite ye in the arse."

Murphy glanced between his brother and their lover, his stunned expression nearly comical.

She leaned in and combed her fingers into his hair to pull him close enough to whisper in his ear, "You still want a taste of my pussy, right?"

He swallowed audibly, and she could have laughed at how quickly the tables had turned. "Aye," he answered, "I do."

"Well, then." She gave him a kiss on the cheek and slowly walked away. "You better come get it."

Murphy only hesitated another moment before he paid his tab and hurried after her to leave Connor sitting at the bar, watching after them and shaking his head. He'd give them some time alone before he headed home. She deserved her revenge, and Murphy had earned some payback.

#boondock saints fanfiction #murphy x reader #murphy macmanus fanfiction

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weskeyboy · 1 year ago

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CONNOR X READER (nsfw)

This fanfic includes: AFAB (but I forgot that miss was for women so..pretend it doesn't say that?) Slight size kink mention, light choking

You have lived with your android for about 6 months now, ever since Connor retired from working with the police and also the cause of Markus making androids and humans live side by side, he now lives with you, handed to you by Hank. He gives the occasional visit when hes off work.

Connor is helpful however, hes like your butler in a way, always keeping calm and things clean, you hardly have to worry anymore unless its with your work, you decided to take his feild of work over, Hank was your relative afterall.

"What are you working on now miss?" Connor peered over your shoulder to see you ar your desk, buried away in tons of paperwork. You look up at him, blinking slowly as you sigh.

"You know you don't have to call me miss, you know what to call me by." You stated firm. "My apologies, my program is used to doing so due to my old job." Connor spoke all monotone.

"Im gonna need to take a break from this, Connor, check if any of my friends are free." You stood up, feeling blood rush to your brain, just the strech alone made you feel more energized for the day.

"Now checking..."

...

"I have found tbat your friend North is free, shall i notify her? Where would you like to go?" Connor stood woth his hands behind his back, having the usual puppy-eye look to his eyes as he stared. "You walked to your couch, a black leather bought due to the amount of spills you had made, Connor had cleaned up most of the time...you'd feel bad if he cleaned up *everything*..which is why you decided to get one so messes wouldn't be as difficult.

Connor had seemed to leave for soemthing, the light taps of his feet hitting the steps as he adventured, you looked over and watched him come back down from the steps, holdign the keys to your car.

"She has stated she wanted to meet you at the café downtown, do you wish to accept?" He asked, standing by the door all cute like, swaying his body slightly. You stare at him for a moment in thought. "Sure, im guessing right now?" You ask as Connor nods, making you sigh and stand up. "Give me a moment." You state as you rush upstairs to change

-Timeskip-

You and Connor are seated in the car, you weren't the kind to just splurge money on things, you still had the old cars from before they were so advanced.

The sky was dim, gray clouds washing over the what was soft blue sky, the evening light made cars passing by shine slightly.

The atmosphere in the car was very soothing, you sort of zoned out, the radio playing "Upgrade" by Jesse Murph all softly, like it was barley in volume. Your eyes were half lifted, only minimal traffic oddly enough.

"I like this song." Connor stated, looking iver at her with his curious eyes. You glanced at him for a moment and gave a nod. "I do too." You answered back in monotone.

There was silence for a moment.

"I believe that you have something on your mind, naturally, humans listen to music based on how their current emotion is." Connors hands layed in his lap all proper, you sort of stayed quiet.

Before you could even try to form a reply the café came into view, making you let out a sigh of relief, truth is you didn't want to reply to that. So you stepped out with Connor, which you honestly had to take him everywhere. He kept track of your sugar intake, telling you of its too much or too little.

North was sat out at one of the tables outside, leaned back and sipping on a coffee. "Hey! I already ordered something. I know androids dont need it but my human claimed it was good." She said dully. You simply smile and sit down across from her.

----------------------

Time had passed, it was the usual little conversation, nothing too far, you were just absent-mindedly listening until you heard your name be repeated, making you look up at her. "What?" You asked, North rolled her eyes. "I *said* my owner said i was good with sex, what..have you seriously not done that before?" She rose a brow.

Connor was sat in-between the two, he seemed to not be payong a single bit attention, he was only there to monitor afterall. The question caught you so off guard, so you stared bla lly for a moment. "What? I mean a lot of humans enjoy it.." she then glanced over at the not paying attention Connor. North looked back at you and smiled, making you frown.

"Im not doing that! Thats my android who helps me clean and keeps track of shit, not some fuck toy." She protested. North then snickered. "Im saying this *AS* an android, most of us were equipped with the knowledge of such things." She smiled, she seemed to be having a good time with it.

"Hey plus..thats gonna help you with..you know..the person." She reffered, making you furrow your brows.

You and your partner had broken up recently, it ended bad, a whole lot of yelling and overall toxicity in the relationship.

"Seriously?"

"Yes seriously."

"What? No."

"But...yes..?"

...

The two stared at eachother, you then sighed.

Look..yeah sure it wpuld help..sex with them was..not the greatest, but still! I think its..wrong." you whispered but North rose a brow. "What? They have human qualities, they have knowledge about it, they'll agree." She reasoned, you stayed silent for a moment. Yet even after a of this, Connor was still in his own little world..besides the yellow LED, but you didn't think anything of it.

---------------------------

After a while longer, you stood up and waved, Connor snapped his head over to you and stood up with you, seeing you were ready to go. You waved your goodbyes to North and stepped back in your car.

The car ride home was silent, even more silent then before, it was now a bit more awkward from the conversation you and North had last, just the thoguht of it made you bit the inside of your cheek.

Once the two of you made it inside, you were kicking your shoes off when Connor spoke up. "Miss?" He asked, making you look back. "You seem stressed..is there anything i can do?" He asked, his eyes showing concern..odd.

You shook your head. "Im fine..really i am." You furrowed your brows and instead started to walk upstairs, but he followed you. "Miss, i can sense that your nerves are much higher then normal at the moment." He edged on, making you groan and sut diwn on your bed. "Im fine Connor!" You stated a bit annoyed.

There was silence.

"Y/N...i know what i heard..." he said as he suddenly placed a hand on your shpulder, your wyes widened a bit. "What?" You whispered. "Let me help you. Let me make you feel good again." Connor whispered all caring, he knelt down to be level with you.

You were taken back, you couldve sworn he wasnt paying attention..was he? "Connor i.." you fold your arms over your chest. "I cant do-" "You can, just tell me what you want me to do..you understand what i mean dont you?" He asked as you slowly nod.

His LED went from blue to yellow, making him pause for a moemnt tben go back to blue. He suddenly leaned close, until his lips were beside her ear. "Lay down?" He asked, you sat still for a moment, fully trying to comprehend what he said before you.slowly back up, hesitantly oetring.your.body lay..however you were stiff, very tense overall. Connor took notice and pressed a ahnd against your stomach.

"Do not worry..it is ok to feel these things..even around an android..thats what those clubs are for." He explained as he started to rub his hand all along your stomach, he loomed over you as he moved his hands to your hips, gently massaging you. "You need to relax..i promise it'll be ok." He comforted.

You couldn't deny his artificial hands were comforting, you could feel them start to warm up..was that on perpouse? He pressed his thumbs against your hips, making you let out a soft whine. Connor looked up at you, taking note of how you responded and only snaked his hands uo further, running his hands down your arms, pressing circles and massaging you. "Thats good.." he whispered.

You suddenly had a flashback..the first time you and your ex had sex..it wasnt the best all honestly..you barley got off. You remember laying together after..only for a moemtn before they had to leave, skipping aftercare.

Connor noticed the decrease in behavior and let out a sigh, he suddenly grabbed you by the chin and stared down at you. "Give in to me..please..relax for once and let me take care of you miss please." He whined out, suddenly lifting up your leg to rest on his shoulder.

You looked up at him, suddenky suprised at his aggressiveness. Before you could speak Connor forced his lips to touch yours. His lips were soft, which was a plus, he never needed to maintain then either which made it all better.

You softened your gaze and finally gave in, letting your body sink into the soft plush sheets, after a few secinds you pulled away, softly gasping. "Connor..but youre my android...this is gonna be..embarrassing after.." Connor then looked confused. "Oh, i see, well..i can erase my memory of it afterwards if you want too, so that i dont remember. Would you like me to?" He asked as you gave a nod. "Uh..yeah.."

Shaking youre head a bit, you felt a gentle grip on your waist, followed by warm hands scooping your back, proping you up. "Can i tease your entrance? I know its an easy way to make humans..aroused easier." He offered, you nodded, only thing is...once you allowed him to take off what you had underneath, there was already wetness against you, making Connor a bit suprised. "You are..already aroused?" He asked, his blue LED flashing yellow for a moment, then back to blue.

"Do you ever stop talking?" You blurt out, Connors eyes widened for a moment. "Sorry." He stated, then looking down at himself. "I turned up my sensitivity while we were speaking, i...really enjoy your company miss.." he mumbled, making you stop and stare.

You reach up and place a hand on his cheek, stroking it smoothly. "Connor...just do what i need you for.." you whisper back with a grin. Connor hummed and pulled down his attire, his synthetic cock showing itself. "I can adjust size if youd like." He commented, you were a bit dumbfounded..it..can change?"

You shake your head. "No! No its fine..honestly..bigger tben what i ever had.." you admitted. "My..sex life-" "I already know, wasnt very good was it? I can arrange that.." he said as he suddenly spat artificial saliva at your entrance, you shivered and was caught off guard. "Androids are far better at these things.." he then leaned to your ear. "Ill treat you so good...you like being manhandled..dont you?" He asked, making butterflies rumble in your tummy.

Without another word, the android started slow entrance in, makign you jolt and squirm for a moment before he pressed on your chest. "Shh shh..its ok..let me know if it hurts.." he cooed, his eyes all relaxed as he started slow movement, making you suddenly grip his arm, at forat he paused, but seeing you didnt speak up he didnt say anything and continued.

"You deserve to be treated right..treated how you want..you feel..s-so good..my sensors are..overwhelmed." he stated, tilting his head back for a moment before looking back down again. "You feel so..warm.." he rambled, you on the other hand were a bit of a mess, heavy panting already due to the size..yet you didnt try to stop him.

"Mm Connor fuck..i-i cant even-:" you ran out of words, letting the thickness of him smother your walls, suffocating them really. Connor chuckled lowly. "Maybe i wanted that..you know the best part? I can release inside you..you wont get pregnant.." he suddenly pressed a hand against the aide of your neck, feeling of your pulse. "May i..squeeze here?" He asked.

You gulped but nodded, soon a hand pressed against your neck, adding oressure slowly over time, your head felt light, your eyes hitting the ceiling as you had to focus on *something*. "Mm-" you let out, making Connor let go since your cheeks were getting purple. "Apologies...i cant help myself..around you." He admitted, a sigh leaving him as you reached up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"Connor fuckin- i cant deny ove thought about this before.." you mutter, making him come down and oress his firehead against yours, both of you staring into eachothers eyes as you oant in sync, he sped uo and you couldve sworn you could see stars.

"I know...i can say the same thing..doesn't it feel good? Finally fucking your own android? I know you feel like its wrong..makes it better doesn't it?" He said as he pushed you into another kiss, feeling of your body with his hands, groaping and squishing your sides. Your entrance ached, clenching around him too desperately.

-------------------------

"Connor im-" "Close? Will you..let me cum in you?" He asked with his softness, making you grin, even in this setting he was always so soft and cute. "Cum in me..i wanna feel full.." you groaned, it was mostly pants and grunts coming from the two of you, so when he suddenly released inside you your mind went all fuzzy, groaning loudly as your back arched.

Before any of you spoke. Connor wrapped his arms around you, kissing on your cheek. "Did i satisfy you? May i request aftercare?" He instantly bomed with questions, you held up your finger to silence him, taking a moment to breath.

"Yeah..yeah that would be..nice.." you mutter, he wasted no time with getting uo to provide you with the thinhs you needed, and after he brung the two of you into a cuddle.

Maybe..its not so wrong?

#connor detroit: bh #dbh connor #smut #dbh smut #dbh markus #x reader

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edgessunflower · 2 years ago

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I was hoping you could do a Murphy smut story? Where he sees a guy flirting with her at the bar and he gets crazy jealous and they get home and have the most epic sex ever!

You got it sorry if there isn't graphic smut that is just not my thing

I'm yours

Pairing: Murphy Macmanus x Fem reader

Description: After talking to an old friend you and Murphy talk when you go home

You decided on your night off to go with your friends Murphy and Connor Macmanus going to the local pub near their shared apartment and run by their friend Doc. You had gotten the week off work due to a holiday but also for many personal reasons most of your coworkers than you so you decided on your first day off to make plans going to visit the boys where they asked you to join them to the pub the next day which you happily agreed. You and murph had been dating for a few months now and always telling him how much you cared for him he truly was the best relationship you had ever had and the most kind hearted man you had ever met never thinking that the two of you would get together when the two of you met and soon became friends with him and his brother who treated you as a sister even when the two of you had just met. The three of you hung out drinking a little when you saw an old friend of yours you had known since high school going over to hi to him as the boys were talking to doc and their friend Rocco talking to him for a few minutes not noticing the look on murph's face when he saw you and your friend but he kept it cool when you came back and talked to rocco happy that you got to see him. The 4 of you stayed at the bar for 4 hours bidding rocco goodbye as you all say bye to doc leaving walking onwards and saying night and bye to connor as he heads back to his and murph's place while you and murph went to your home for the night going in hanging your coats and drinking some water going to change but as you went in your room the next the thing you knew was you were against the wall. You stared in his eyes as he leans in "I saw you in the bar earlier and I know you weren't flirting with him but I am still going to show you who's you are" you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he kisses you moving you to lay on your bed stripping you slowly and stripping himself quickly after thankful your neighbors were on vacation and working so you could be as loud as you wanted and didn't need to cover your mouth or hold your breath to keep from moaning and grunting that soon mingled together as time went on and things got more and more heated. You both went and showered together after finally being out of breath and spent of arousal eating take out and going back to your room and falling asleep tangled together after the last four hours of showing that you not only loved each other but were loyal to each other as well.

#norman reedus x reader #murphy macmanus #the boondock saints #norman reedus #the boondock saints x reader #murphy macmanus x reader

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minervadashwood · 2 years ago

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Murphy Macmanus x PlusSize!Reader (she/her)

🍻 ~ Don't Look ~ 🕺‍💃‍

Summary: Doc hires you, Murphy's girlfriend, at Murphy's insistence. But it's not long before the MacManus twin regrets that decision. Warnings: Alcohol, sexual themes (no actual sex), fluff, possessive Murphy, Connor the enabler. Language warning: I tried my best to be accurate with the Irish accents. Hoping to god nothing I did is offensive. Word count: ~1,000

Prompt: "I don't like them all looking at you." "Remember, you're the only one who can look at me all night long."

Your boyfriend, Murphy, had gotten you a job at McGinty’s. It was more a favor for Doc than for you, honestly, as Doc was getting up there in age and wouldn’t admit he needed the help. So, Murph had begged the old man to hire you.

You started on a Monday, to learn the ropes before things got really busy on Friday night. Throughout the week, a handful of regulars were the only customers, which included the twins. Doc served the drinks, but you washed up, moved the stock around—or you tried to. Every time you went to carry a case of beer or liquor to the front, or roll in a keg, both Murph and Connor ended up doing the work for you. It had you wondering why Murph wanted you to work there in the first place.

You enjoyed getting to know Murph and Connor’s drinking buddies, and you spent most nights laughing along with their antics. Around ten or so, when Murph was on his third or fifth pint, you became less a barmaid and more a girlfriend. It was around that time when Murph would pull you from behind the bar and twirl you around once or twice. This always prompted the others to break out into some traditional Irish song, and you followed Murphy’s lead as he spun you about the near-empty bar, spinning you and dipping you. His slight frame hid his strength. The first time he tried to dip you, you were afraid he couldn’t hold you up, but he did.

Around eleven, Doc would put a cassette in his little old radio, and lilting ballads filled the air. Connor would pull you from Murphy for a slow dance, ever the perfect gentleman. It wasn’t long before you were in Murphy’s arms again, letting him hold you close as you both swayed to the music. Last call came a half hour later, and you rushed to the back, eager to get most of the work finished before Doc tried to do it himself.

Then each night, you told Connor goodnight, and Murph walked you home. You weren’t yet brave enough to ask him to stay the night—and he’d never asked to come up—but each kiss goodbye left you wanting more from your Irish gentleman.

Friday night came around, and you got to work at eight. The usual guys were already there, including the twins, and your shift started out like it had the previous days. However, around ten, more and more men crowded into the small bar. It seemed every seedy neighborhood in Boston had a representative, from the Italians, to the Russians, to the unaffiliated working class.

Then it was clear how much help Doc needed. You found yourself flitting about the bar and tables, delivering drinks, loading the dishwasher in the back when you could, lugging fresh glasses to the front for Doc to fill, again and again.

You were so hard at work, you never noticed what Murphy could see. You were the only lass in the bar, like a sheep surrounded by a pack of wolves. Most of them didn’t know you were his girl, and they stared openly, taking in your soft, generous curves whenever your back was to them. Those curves belonged to Murphy, and it was high time they all knew that.

As you walked back to the bar, a tray full of empty glasses perched precariously on your hand, Murphy grabbed you around the waist. Connor had just enough time to catch the tray before you dropped it, and Murphy hauled you between his legs.

Your hands flew up to brace yourself on this chest. “What’s gotten into you, Murph?”

He slid his hands from around your waist and squeezed your ass. Then he whispered in your ear. “I don' like ‘em all lookin’ at ya’."

You pulled away and he didn’t like that, either. He held onto you a bit tighter.

“What’s gotten into you?” you asked.

Murphy put his mouth to your ear again. “They’re undressin’ ya wit’ their eyes. I don’ like it.” He put his mouth on your earlobe and sucked.

You gasped in his arms. “Murph, nobody’s looking at me.”

Just then, Connor put his chin on Murphy’s shoulder. “They are, lass. Seen it wit’ me own two eyes. Whole place looks like they wanna eat ya.”

You turned your head away from Murphy and Connor to look around the bar. Instantly all the men went from staring at you to staring at their drinks.

You scoffed. “You’re both crazy.”

Connor leaned back, shaking his head and letting out a resigned sigh. “Yer askin’ for it now, lass.”

Murphy pulled you even closer to him so that you were firmly nestled between his legs with your belly and chest pressing against him.

You smiled sweetly at him. “Even if they are looking, you’re the only one who gets to look at me all night long.”

Murph shook his head and nuzzled the side of your neck. “Not enough, love. I d'be showin’ ‘em who ya belong to.”

Quick as a flash, Murphy moved one hand to the base of your head and angled you for a kiss. He took his time, lips moving languidly, sensually over yours, his tongue going past your lips and tangling with your own.

A moan escaped you, and Murphy chuckled against your mouth. He squeezed your ass again with his free hand, then gave it a little smack. You jumped and giggled, letting yourself lean more fully into him. He kissed his way to your ear and suckled your earlobe once more. He felt your chest rising and falling against his own, and his heart—as well as another part of his body—swelled with pride.

He stopped his suckling and urged you a few inches away by placing his hands on your hips.

You whimpered and pouted at this newly created distance.

Murphy smirked at you, your darkened cheeks and parted lips proof of a job well done.

Connor’s head was on Murphy’s shoulder again. “That worked, didn’t it?” he laughed and reached around Murphy to pinch your cheek.

You narrowed your eyes at Murphy. “Was that all just for show?”

Murphy looked around the bar with a fierce grin. A number of the patrons raised their glasses to him in silent congratulations and acceptance.

He turned to you and shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to take me home wit’ ya to find out.”

Thank you for reading! Feel free to like, reply, and reblog! 💚🤍🧡

=============

Taglist: @green-eyedladywrites @haleypearce @phoenixblack89 @takeabreathdeath @livingdeadblondequeen @sweetpeapod @ravenwings73 @fuzzy-paintnda @missbeeentertainment @crazylilad @imatrisk

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list! (Or if I have accidentally left you off the list 😬) ==============

#connor macmanus #murphy macmanus #boondock saints #boondock saints fanfic #murphy macmanus x reader #murphy macmus x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size #fluff #norman reedus

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theteasetwrites · 3 years ago

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Under Pressure

❧ Pairing: Murphy MacManus x Female Reader ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—voyeurism (?), missionary, publish-ish sex, swearing ❧ Word Count: 3.2k

❧ Requested by @hereditarydeath (this request)

❧ Summary: Sex with Murphy becomes interesting when his brother gets involved, watching from the sidelines and being a bit… annoying. You don't really mind, though, as long as Murphy pleases you (and he does).

❧ A/N: So um… Connor has a voyeur kink? This is about as close as I’ll get to doing a Murphy x Reader x Connor threesome so yeah lol. Also, my first full-on Murphy smut! I’ve only done like suggestive Murphy so this is fun. I feel like I’m getting a feel for him and how he’d be in bed. Very rough but also very sweet and caring because he’s a sensitive bby.

He was all over you from the start of the evening, squeezing your ass as you walked through the park, looking at your prominent cleavage with dark, hungry eyes, pulling you in for several open-mouthed kiss at rather inopportune times, and licking his lips with all the inconspicuousness of a bright orange traffic cone.

But he simply couldn’t help it. Perhaps it was the messy bun you tied your hair in, and the wispy strands of hair that so delicately cascaded around your face and onto your neck.

Maybe it was the almost sinfully short mini-dress, soft to the touch of its velvet, baby pink fabric, and cinched waist that perfectly highlighted your luscious curves. Could it have been how the dress was backless, with criss-cross straps hovering over your exposed back? Surely that had something to do with it, since he’d never seen you in such a garment.

Oh, but then there was the perfume… That sweet blend of honeysuckle and gardenia, with just a hint of orange. Of course, Murphy had no idea what sweet aromas had been blended together to create such a harmony of exquisite scents radiating from your soft skin, but he knew he liked it, whatever it was.

He couldn’t even bring himself to think about the heels, the strappy black kitten heels that made you almost as tall as him, and made your legs look somehow longer and more delicious than he thought before.

How he wouldn’t mind taking off those heels and licking up your leg until he reached that soft, warm sweetness which had given him the most pleasure he’d ever felt in his life. No matter how many times he’d fucked you before, he’d only felt his desire for you getting stronger and stronger by the hour, and the incessant burning in his cock was enough to light his loose-fitting jeans on fire.

“Stay with me tonight, huh?” he panted between kisses, holding you tight against the brick wall in the alley between his building and whatever other housing development was next door. Though you still had on your panties, your entire core was exposed now, as he’d somehow lifted up your dress until he could fondle you without any unwanted distractions from the fabric. “Save on the cab… Let me fuck ya real good again, just how you like.”

You swallowed his spit and moaned into his mouth, deliriously searching for the words to bring you out of his embrace. “We can’t,” you said, brushing his dark hair back to straighten it from your rustling. “Connor’s there.”

He tilted his head in amusement. “So?”

You laughed and hit his shoulder in faux offense, then proceeded to lower your dress until it covered you again. “So… I’m not having sex with you while your brother’s three feet away, not even if you had a partition. We should go to my place, Murph… At least there’s a wall between me and my roommate.”

“Nah,” he said, raising his arm to the wall above you to lean over your lips. “This stiffy’s not gonna last all the way to the other side of town… I need you now, lass.”

Murphy tore you away from the wall and pulled you against him until there was certainly no room for the Holy Spirit.

“Mmm,” you hummed against his lips as he led you towards the door of the building. “But what about Connor?” you asked.

He smirked and threw open the door with his free hand as the other one continued lifting up your dress.

“He’s probably asleep,” he said. “Once he’s out he’s out like a light. He won’t be a bother.”

By the time you got to the elevator, your dress was almost completely pulled up again, and Murphy’s hair was going in every possible direction, its short, dark strands adorably messy from your hands running through it in excitement and passion.

When you reached the fifth floor, he hoisted you up in his arms, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist in a slight panic that he would drop you.

“Murphy!” you giggled, though there was a worry to your voice. “Don’t you drop me, you klutz.”

“I’m not a klutz!” he protested as he peered over your shoulder to make sure he was going the right way towards his apartment.

Ever since he accidentally tripped while walking down the street in downtown Boston with you, getting a bloody nose and a big bruise on his forehead, you would never let him live it down.

“Sure,” you teased as you trailed your hands up and down his back. “You’re adorable.”

“Shut it.”

He grunted in frustration as he fumbled with the keys, still trying to hold you up. Finally, with a triumphant “aha!”, he bolted in through the door, bouncing you up and down with his skipping body.

“Shhh!” you said as he laid you down on his bed, which was more or less just a mattress thrown lazily onto the ground, with a few pillows and no sheets to speak of.

You immediately looked over at Connor’s bed, and noticed the soft sound of his snoring.

“Oh, thank God,” you huffed, and looked back up to see Murphy already stripping himself of his pants, having already removed his shirt while you weren’t looking.

“Told ya he’d be asleep, love,” he whispered as he hopped out of his jeans. “Just you and me.”

Suddenly even more aroused, now with the sight of Murphy’s beautiful naked body before you, you reached down to the hem of your dress to pull it up and off of you, then pulled your hair out of your bun to rapidly shake out the frizzy strands.

“Come here, sexy.”

He smirked at the phrase, then kneeled down on the bed to grab your panties and remove them from your body. Immediately, he spread you out and suctioned his lips to your pussy, causing you to jolt in surprise and yelp at the sudden feeling of his wiggling tongue moving up and down your slit.

“Murphy!” you shouted wildly. “Oh, yes!”

You threw your hands forward to lace through his hair, and jolted up and down almost uncontrollably as he licked your clit in rapid circles.

He kept tonguing at you, moving his head side to side and dragging his tongue every which way, gathering up your taste when his tongue lapped at your dripping wet entrance.

“Mmm, baby… That feels so good.”

You pawed your own breasts as you leaned forward to look at Murphy’s enthusiastic tongue, lapping up every inch of your throbbing, tingling pussy.

You grabbed his hair tighter now, clenching your teeth and trying not to moan too loudly again, as you’d noticed Connor stirring a little out of the corner of your eye.

“F-fuck,” you huffed through your teeth. “God… Yes.”

His face was buried into you now as you kept thrusting upwards to feel more pressure on your clit, and the tightening became stronger with each movement of his loving tongue.

His hands grasped at your hips, holding them tight as he sucked and licked sloppily, while you felt the familiar pulsing of your approaching orgasm.

“Oh, Murphy!” you sighed, clutching onto his shoulders and using the leverage to buck into his mouth even more. “You’re gonna make me come!”

It was so close, that high you’d been climbing towards the past several minutes, and the closer you got, the more your senses became dull and your moans raised in volume, becoming nonstop with every hard thrust against his face.

“Yes! Yes! Oh—”

Just then, Murphy pulled his tongue away, and turned his head to yell something you couldn’t even register as you writhed in frustration and pleasure on the bed, still so close to your orgasm, but unable to reach it without Murphy giving it to you.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled at his brother, who’d just flicked on the tiny TV sitting across the room on the floor. “Turn that shit off, ye eejit! Can’t ya see I’m in the middle of somethin’?!”

You flinched and pulled your legs up and under the covers, then wrapped your arms over your breasts.

“Murphy!” you yelled to him, unsure of what else to do in all your confusion, and frustration at the feeling of your pussy still throbbing and begging for attention.

Connor, now awake and munching on some chips, didn’t even move his eyes from the television.

“How are ya, lass?” he asked from the corner of his mouth, quirked in amusement at the late-night cartoons on the television. “Don’t mind me. Go on.”

Murphy tossed a stray pillow towards Connor, and you just looked at him in awe, wondering how he could stand buck-naked, and fully erect, in front of his brother.

“Yeah, right!” he yelled. “Get the hell out of here! She doesn’t want ya in here, you pervert!”

Connor leaned up and threw the pillow back at Murphy, knocking him down onto the bed beside you.

“I was here first!” replied Connor.

Feeling Murphy’s body by yours, and looking down at his bare, taut ass, you didn’t care if he was still engaged in a fight with his brother, who would no doubt be watching, you needed him to finish the job.

You maneuvered yourself underneath him as he carried on exchanging curse words with his twin, then pulled his face down and away from Connor, kissing him roughly as you pawed at his cock and led it to your slit.

“Fuck me,” you mumbled against his lips, which quickly adjusted to you. “I don’t even care anymore. Just fuck me… Right now.”

He nodded and dragged his hand down to his cock, then moved the tip up and down your slit until you writhed and moaned in frustration, bucking up into him with desperation as your orgasm began to rise again from the pressure.

“Oh, Murphy!” you gasped at the feeling of his cock on your clit. “Fuck me! Now!”

You heard Connor laugh in the distance, and the slam of the mini-fridge door. “You better fuck ‘er, Murph,” he mumbled with cold pizza in his mouth. “I’ll do it if you don’t.”

“Shut the fuck up!” cried Murphy, with a slight whimper at the end of his voice, as he himself was much too turned on to speak in a very straightforward tone.

In frustration and impatience, you tugged on Murphy’s ass, forcing his pelvis deeper against yours.

“I need your cock,” you huffed, rubbing his back and his ass with demanding fervor.

Murphy finally obliged, no longer able to keep himself from you. He plunged his cock into you, sinking against you and letting out a deep groan of pleasure into the crook of your neck.

You moaned, too, throwing your head back and arching your back in pleasure all the while.

“Mmm, yes, Murphy!”

His cock filled you so perfectly, snaking through you and beginning to hit your g-spot at the perfect angle.

As he started pumping himself inside of you, thrusting back and forth, he lowered his head to suck on your nipples, causing you to twitch a little in surprise when his teeth grazed the sensitive tissue.

Connor craned his head, watching in combined amusement and curiosity at the event.

“Aw, you can do better than that!” he said, judging Murphy’s hip movements. “Put your back into it, man!”

Murphy groaned against your breast and let go of it with a “pop,” raising his head to yell at Connor, all while still thrusting into you, now with much more aggression and speed.

“I know what I’m doin’!” he yelled, and you just threw your head back again, gripping his shoulders for dear life as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to bliss. “She’s my girlfriend!”

“Murphy!” you cried out in annoyance and pleasure. “Fuck me!”

“He is fuckin’ ye, lass. Well, he’s trying.”

“Shut up!” you yelled at him.

In your frustrated state, you began moving wildly underneath him, trying to grind yourself at the exact right angle to stimulate your throbbing clit.

As he pumped into you, he noticed your frantic movements, and tried to steady you a little, wrapping your legs tighter around his torso and kissing you to keep you a little more stable, but you couldn’t help it. You were desperate for an orgasm, begging his body to allow you one.

“Calm down, mo mhuirnín,” he said softly into your ear, holding you by your hips as he penetrated you, deeper and deeper. “I got ya. Nice and deep.”

“Mmm,” you groaned as he kissed your cheek, and you wriggled even more uncontrollably. “Ooo, Murphy…”

“She’s goin’ crazy!” laughed Connor. “I know his cock isn’t that good, lass. Mine’s bigger. Know for a fact.”

Murphy groaned and tossed another pillow towards Connor. “Is not!” he yelled, panting and still humping you the best he could while arguing. “She loves my cock, don’t ya, sweetheart?”

“Murphy!” you yelled in frustration, and thrusted yourself up wildly now, causing him to nearly fall off the bed.

“Whoa!” he yelped.

“You all right, love?” asked Connor. “You need a real man to please you? I’ll take seconds, if you don’t mind, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you!” bellowed Murphy.

It must’ve looked like you were having a seizure, but really you’d just missed your orgasm, and now you were desperately trying to get it back.

Murphy leaned up and looked at you curiously, then panicked a little when you arched your back and bucked up into him with such force he almost lost his balance on top of you.

“(Y/N)!” he yelled, with a hint of a laugh in his voice.

In an attempt to stabilize you, and to get himself situated again, he held you down by your stomach, pressing down his hand and returning to thrusting when you became still for a brief moment, the pressure of his hand bringing you a kind of pleasure you hadn’t felt before.

The pinnacle of your orgasm shattered, spilling all around you and causing you to moan and groan in pleasure from the myriad of jolts going through you. Your pussy clenched around Murphy’s cock, resulting in him becoming a moaning mess, too, until Connor’s nagging voice became drowned out.

“Ohhh, Murph,” you laughed, twirling your arms above your head and biting your lip in satisfaction.

He smiled down at you deliriously, that adorable, crooked smile he always had when he looked at you, like he was both bashful and confident at once.

Beginning to move faster again, he positioned himself to reach his own high, shoving his knees under your thighs and sinking onto you, tonguing at your mouth and soaking you with his saliva.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips, making an effort for Connor not to hear, though he did.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” he groaned. “Get on with it, Murph!”

Murphy peeled his lips from you for a moment, ready to scold his brother, but you pulled him back by his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eye as he penetrated you.

“Ignore him,” you said. “Focus on me… Feel. Feel this soaking wet pussy. Come on, baby. Come for me.”

He nodded, closing his eyes and straining himself to ignore Connor, all while pumping himself harder and harder into you, his cock passing through those warm, soft walls, which you purposefully clenched around his length.

“Aw, fuck,” he groaned through clenched teeth. “I’m close.”

“Thank God,” said Connor.

His hips made one last hard thrust into your hilt, and that was enough. You sighed and giggled at the feeling of his hot cum coating your pussy, spraying in streams as he kept bucking his hips, getting every last drop out of him.

“Ahhh,” he moaned in satisfaction against your neck, which he kissed and tongued at all the while. “That’s good… You like that cock comin’ inside you?”

You nuzzled your nose into his short, messy crop of hair, and kissed his head in appreciation as the last twitches of his cock subsided, leaving behind the warmth of his flaccid length snuggled up inside of you.

“I love it,” you sighed. “And when you did that thing with your hand on my belly…”

He furrowed his brow and smiled at you in blissful confusion. “What thing?”

“You pressed on my belly!” you laughed as you traced his adorable facial structure with your finger, paying extra attention to his prominent cheekbones. “I don’t know why, but it felt so good, baby.”

He smiled sweetly as he mimicked your actions, tracing the delicate curves of your face with his finger while his hazy bedroom eyes were transfixed on your still quivering lips.

“So, I make ya feel good?”

“Of course you do.”

“And you love my cock?”

You rolled your eyes, realizing this was some kind of competition.

You couldn’t say anything before, out of the corner of your eye, Connor jumped up, completely naked and pulling Murphy off you.

“Look here, lass,” he said, fighting with Murphy as he tried to stand beside him at the end of the bed.

You covered yourself again, bringing Murphy’s sheets up and over your body to retain some shred of dignity.

“Who’s got the bigger cock?” he asked, looking between his and Murphy’s now flaccid penises. “And don’t be afraid to tell the truth. He’ll still love ya.”

You looked between them with wide eyes, questioning Murphy, who seemed to be curious of your answer as he no longer fought back.

“Oh, don’t ask me that,” you said, trying to look at Connor’s face rather than his genitalia. “It’s bad enough we had sex in front of you. Can’t we just forget the whole thing?”

“What?” asked Murphy. “You think his is bigger?”

“N-no,” you stuttered. “I mean, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Connor. “Mine’s bigger! I told you.”

“I didn’t say that!”

Murphy frowned at you, genuinely a little saddened.

“Oh, Murphy,” you cooed, smiling a little at his adorably pouty face. “They’re the same size!”

“No!” both twins exclaimed.

You shook your head. “All right, get me some measuring tape, then. Make it accurate.”

The twins looked at each other, both biting their lips and seemingly hesitant about the idea.

“Nah,” they both said.

“Let’s call it even,” said Connor.

You sighed, and held your hand out to censor Connor’s privates from your view. “Now could you please go to bed? This situation is already weird enough.”

“Nonsense,” said Connor, grinning as he rested his elbow on Murphy’s shoulder, who quickly pushed him off and launched himself back into bed next to you. “Nothin’ weird about it, and ya know, if you ever want another MacManus in your pus—I mean, uh… life, or both of us at the same time, I’d be willing to negotiate—”

Murphy protectively wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest, then pointed sternly at Connor.

“Don’t even think about it, perv,” he said. “I’m not sharin’ her.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, trying to forget about the whole thing. “L-let’s go to sleep.”

Connor fell asleep almost immediately, giving you much relief when you realized you could be alone with Murphy again, who was only dozing off.

“Murphy, baby?”

You felt his arm snake tighter around you, and his lips kissed your shoulder briefly.

“Hm?”

“Next time, we’re having sex at my place.”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Masterlist

#murphy macmanus fanfiction #murphy macmanus x you #murphy macmanus fanfic #murphy macmanus x reader #murphy macmanus #the boondock saints fanfiction #the boondock saints fanfic #the boondock saints #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus

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visceravalentines · 2 years ago

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Murph Connors NSFW Alphabet Headcanons

there are exactly 4 Murph gifs so you get these guys instead. it's symbolic <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Murph is the biggest snuggle bug. Just wants to hold you and be held. Showers you with little kisses and caresses and nestles your head under his chin. The man's heart is attached to his dick and he's a little bit in love with you right now.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Real proud of his physique. He is a gym bro and he works hard for those gains. He's all about his upper body and abs, all those important surfing muscles. Tell him he's strong, compliment his gains, he'll light up and flex for you. He doesn't even mean to do it, it just happens on reflex.

When it comes to his partner, he likes the soft things. Thighs, breasts, tummy, ass. Whether you're thick or thin he likes the parts of you he can really get his hands on.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Thinks swallowing is the hottest thing on the planet. If you let him cum in your mouth he'll buy you flowers. Also, btw, this man is bisexual as hell and when he's giving head you bet he swallows.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Super into pet play. Never ever will bring this up unless asked point-blank. If you put a collar on this man and tell him he's a good dog whoops he came already.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's got a fair amount of experience under his belt but not as much as you'd think. He is very good at making sure his partner is taken care of and has a few tricks up his (very tight) sleeves to rile you up.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

All of them. Are you having sex with him? Awesome. You wanna take him for a ride? Climb right on up. You want him to fold you like a paper airplane? He would love to do that for you. You want to fold him like a paper airplane? Say less, baby.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s not goofy on purpose, he’s just kind of a goofball by nature. He’s being very sincere actually. When he says “this is the best moment of my fucking life” while you’re sucking him off, he means it 100%.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Fuzzy boy. Full fucking bush bby. California blonde from his head to his toes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Murph is, shall we say, a very clumsy romantic. He's not so much sweeping you off your feet as he is throwing you over his shoulder. He says the sweetest things but they're not exactly poetry, e.g. “you feel fucking incredible, you're a fucking dream, fuck,” etc. If you've been together for a minute he'll hug you tight and tell you he really likes you because it's true and he does.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Absolutely thinks about you while he's jerking off. Uses your nudes for inspiration. Probably texts you about it before, during, and after. He really prefers getting off with a partner, but sometimes u just gotta get that nut.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Oh my god edge this man. Be so mean to him, deny him all day, just don't ruin his orgasm or he'll never forgive you. Do literally anything to his nipples and he's a puddle with an erection. Loves to be bitten and sucked on. Leave him little love marks he can look at later and it'll make his day every time he sees them. Praise the fuck out of him, it gives him a boner in his heart. 💕

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Tbh?? Bed. He loves bed. Bed has everything you need. Would he accept couch? Yes, couch is good too. Kitchen? Why the fuck not? Not car. He can't get comfortable in a car. Kinda shy about public places but he thinks it's so hot you want him that bad and if you pull him into the bar bathroom or a dressing room he's not going to say no.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Any amount of interest shown in him at all. If you are soft and needy, he is tripping over himself to please you. Push him up against a wall and he's immediately yours. Send him nudes and flirty texts, he will be so stoked you're thinking of him. So stoked he can’t stand up for a minute. PDA?? Oh man. Touch him under the table at a restaurant and he is going to be pent the fuck up until you get him home. Absolutely loves when you assert your claim on him in some way publicly, taking his hand, arm around his waist, standing beside his chair and pulling his head against your hip.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not one for degradation, giving or receiving. Prefers pleasure to pain for the most part; your standard biting, scratching, and spanking are fair game. Not much for group sex or threesomes. He's pretty down to try anything once if you want, doesn't have a lot of hard limits.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Enjoys both giving and receiving for different reasons. Uses giving as a way to warm up his partner and gets himself all hot and bothered in the process because he just really is having a good time. Gives sloppy fucking head. Enjoys receiving bc he’s a simple man and he likes having his dick sucked, duh.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Murph gets worked up pretty quickly but he’s hung like a horse, which means he usually has to take it slow for his partner’s sake. He is so very good at being patient. Plus, once he’s in the moment, he doesn’t want it to end.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You want to have sex with him right now?? Right now? Pants are off. Expect him to be really clingy afterwards though, and maybe don’t leave right after or he’ll be sad.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He kinda sticks to his comfort zone when left to his own devices. He’s not the one to bring a new idea to the bedroom. But he’s extremely receptive to whatever you have in mind.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Clear your schedule. He's in great shape, he's down to switch it up so things don't get repetitive or chafey, and he would love nothing more than to spend the whole night with you (and the day, and the next night).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Nothing fancy, but he has a couple cock sleeves he likes that he'd be happy to use on a partner with a penis. If you've got something you like that you want to use on him or have him use on you, he's totally down to try it out.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He'll try, but he's not great at teasing because he just wants to give you what you want. Why would he deprive you?? You're so hot. :(

However…you can tease him until he's blue in the balls face. He'll whine and complain but he loves it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Buy the neighbors earplugs. Murph does not hold back nor does he know how to nor does he care. Full-throated moans and whines and whimpers. Vocal sighs like all the tension in the world has been siphoned from his body. Begging, pleading, bargaining. Grunts, growls, a truly juvenile amount of the word fuck.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Looooves when he gets to cum inside you. It's not even a breeding kink thing, he just is thrilled you'd let him do that. If his partner can't or doesn't want to adjust to his size he has to make do with other avenues, which is fine, but he just really likes being inside you if you'll let him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big man. Thiccc. He's what you'd call a seven by seven…seven inch girth, seven inch length. Circumcised. Curly curly blonde bush. Usually hangs to the left.

As for the rest of his body, he's pretty fucking fit. Bulkier in the shoulders, arms, and chest, slim in the waist. Ass that won't quit. He's very tan bc he's always in the sun. Has a handful of tattoos including a shark on his left hip and a sun and moon on his calves.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Murph is always just a little bit horny and ready to be hornier. It's like a soothing white noise in the back of his mind. He's just bopping along until you drop him a hint and then he is ready. Sometimes he gets real needy though, and he can't focus on anything, and he'll do literally anything you want if you'll just get him off right now.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He won't fall right to sleep, but he'll get cozy and cuddly and won't want to leave the bed again. And you better believe he's up before you are, already went for a run, and is making you breakfast.

#murph connors #murph connors fanfiction #murph connors x reader

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sketchy-rosewitch · 2 years ago

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Enantiodromia: Murph Connors x gn!afab!reader

Part 1

Warnings: Police, Nick O’Brien, choking, kidnapping, drugs, Reader does not have a filter, starvation, mentions of foster care system, allusions of abuse.

A/N: This is going to be a mini series cause fuck it.

Taggies: @bosinclairz @visceravalentines @blurrymango

A sting comes across your face and you bolt awake, gasping for air. Your body sweats as you look around, taking in your surroundings.

The room smells like alcohol, sex, and weed and you’re surrounded by five men and some prostitutes.

You go to rub your face but see your hands cuffed to two end tables near you. A groan escapes your lips.

“Who the hell are you?” You sneer, looking between all of the men.

“Nick O’Brien. Leader of the Regulators. I practically run the sheriff’s department.” A brown haired man says.

Fucking cops.

You look up at the ceiling and sigh before your head falls back down.

How the hell could you be so stupid? You had one job and that was to not get caught. Now you’re here. Getting caught. Except, you’re not in an interrogation room. You’re in a hotel room and everyone is doing hard drugs and drinking.

Oh which means these men are worse than cops. Even better.

“Did I do something wrong Sheriff?” The question comes out as snarky as you can make it with the pounding headache you have.

“Not if you tell us where a couple of your friends are.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shrug your shoulders and look away. Yeah like you’re admitting practically where your house is and snitching on what is about to go down, risking your life when no one is even going to get hurt.

“Sure you do, we aren’t stupid.”

You snort still not making eye contact with any of them. “I’m not tellin’ you shit. I have no reason to.”

You notice O’Brien get up, he’s out of your site so you look at the rest of the men, two have their guns out and are wiping them down. This makes you roll your eyes. “Are you actually trying to intimidate me right now? Cause I’m not afraid to die.”

With that a sudden pressure is put on your throat and you gasp. Face turning red and lungs already burning. Your face hurts but you don’t let up, instead letting your eyes roll back to get some type of relief. You couldn’t even try and get him to let go even if you wanted to be.

Eventually his hold loosens and you take in a loud deep breath.

“Pussy.” You mumble then feel a hit to your head making you cringe. “I’m not sayin shit. You’re wasting your time and mine too. Just let me go already.” You growl.

“We don’t plan on releasing you until you do say shit. We need to know where Kennedy and Quinn Abrams are!”

“The fuck is in it for me then? Cause right now I’m not hearing shit, only getting threatened and choked out! Which means I ain’t saying shit!” You shout, the leader looks at the other cops as they have a very silent discussion, then he turns to you and sits on the coffee table.

“Won’t go to jail.”

Your eyes roll back. “That’s not good enough.”

You hands tap nervously in the arms of the chair you sat in.

Kennedy and Quinn provided you a home. You don’t wanna be out on the streets like you were after you got out of juvy. You can’t go back to that.

“I need a place to stay. Somewhere they can’t find me cause if I go back there I’m dead and I’m not dying by their hands, you will not throw me in jail and you will help me find a job. There’s no work around with this either. This is the deal or shit ain’t coming out about the Abrams.” You explain, tongue poking the inside of your cheeks. You aren’t going to let the same treatment of Kennedy and Quinn happen again. You can’t be left with nothing.

“Fine.”

You sigh. “They’ll be at those warehouses on Kings Street. Buncha cars there cause they were trying to see which one was best for me. They have other people working for them too I don’t know their names. I just know they’re making all the guns and shit. Big robbery next week. Hostage situation. All that. It’s all I can tell you.”

Your hands are shaking now as you reside in a limbo of whether or not you walk out with a roof over your head or sleeping on the sidewalk by a street lamp.

“Murph you get to watch over them. Tomorrow afternoon we meet to discuss our next moves.” O’Brien stands up and uncuffs your wrists and you rub them gently.

A man with greying sandy hair stands up, putting his gun in his pants. He pulls out some money and gives it to the stripper that was playing with his hair during most of the interrogation. Then he pulls out his car keys and that’s when you assume that he is Murph. So you stand up after him.

“Checking out early Connors?” Another one of the men seem to tease him.

“Yep. I’ll see you guys tomorrow though. C’mon kiddo.”

Your brows furrow at the nickname before you follow Murph walking around all of the other men and out the hotel door. The halls are quiet, only echoing your foot steps and his.

You notice the way he’s dressed. He’s much older than you are but his fashion sense is similar to that of a high school boy.

You snort but look away when he looks down at you.

“What?” He says, walking over to press the button for the elevator.

You shrug and wait for the door to open before you two step inside. He presses the garage button.

“So are your wife and kids gonna be okay with me staying with you?” You ask leaning against the railing.

“Don’t have either.” His voice sounds slightly bitter but you ignore it.

“Not surprised.” The elevator dings and the doors open, he steps out and you follow after him.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

He unlocks his truck and the two of you get in. The truck smells of cologne causing your nose to tickle. You rub it, the answer.

“Well, I’m sure wifey wouldn’t be happy her husband is cheating with a sexy young babe in a hotel room with a bunch of your guy friends. Sure your kids would end up hating you too.”

Murph sighs and starts his truck driving out of the parking garage and to his house.

The drive is quite other than the soft rock playing on the radio and you look out at the city lights passing by and slowly disappearing as the truck heads into a suburban part of LA.

It’s close to four in the morning when the truck parks in a drive way. Murph gets out and you follow after him. You can’t see much in the dark but the silhouette of the house is huge. You smirk and watch as he unlocks the door.

“Cameras and motion detectors are at the front back and side entrances. I turn on security when I leave the house and go to bed. You’ll be safest here. Until we arrest Kennedy and Quinn you’ll be under my watch, even when I leave this house. Understand?”

You toe off the shoes and nod your head. “You got any food?” You’re already making your way to the kitchen which is honest to god HUGE.

You head right towards the fridge and open it rummaging through to find something good to eat. You find left over wings and some juice so you grab them and shut the fridge with your foot.

“Can’t just waltz into someone else’s house and take their food without asking.” Murph crosses his arms and leans against the counter, you put your food on a paper plate and shove it into the microwave.

“Wasn’t taught manners in the foster care system or in juvy. My bad.” You say, nonchalantly making your way around the kitchen to find a cup.

“How old are you anyways.”

“Shouldn’t you know that? You’re a cop, I mean my shit is in the system after all.”

“Well I don’t. So just tell me.” Murph rolls his eyes and rubs his face. He’s clearly getting fed up with you and it makes you feel better about himself.

“23.”

The microwave beeps and you go to pull out your food. You sit down at the marble island and start to eat.

“Got huge attitude problems for being 23.” Murph walks to the plastic container and throws it in the sink to wash later.

“Again, foster care system, juvy, also Kennedy and Quinn.” You take another bite and wiggle a little in your seat. “Man, I haven’t eaten in days! Shit is delicious!”

“Thanks. When you’re done I’ll show you your room. Tomorrow when I get back we’ll go shopping for some clothes alright?”

You give him a thumbs up and watch as he types on his phone while you eat.

It doesn’t take long for you to finish and throw out the paper plate and scraps, you down your juice and Murph starts walking towards the stairs.

The upstairs holds a loft with four doors and a closet. You take a second to look around as he gets out towels, blankets and sheets. It’s a game room, there’s a pool table, shelves of board games, card games, and video games. A couch and loveseat, and a flatscreen TV, the TV stand holds even more video games and consoles from all the way back in the 90’s to now.

You wanna touch it all.

“Come on, can show you everything some other time.” Murph tilts his head towards a small hall and taking you to a large guest bedroom.

“Bathroom is the door by the pool table. My bedroom is down that way. If you need me” He points out your door and across the loft to another small hall and door. He looks at you up and down, you wear a tight tank top, jacket, and loose blue jeans,“I have an old shirt you can use for tonight, uh and shorts too.”

Murph leaves your room and goes into his, you take a chance and look around, feeling how soft the bed is you smile.

Finally no more couch.

There’s a tv in the guest room which surprised you. The closet was empty and all that sat on the bedside tables were lamps. The room was a beautiful light blue.

You swear this man could’ve done interior design as a side job if he wanted to.

You snort to yourself and start to take off your socks chucking them in a corner.

You realize you’ll need more than just clothes tomorrow.

Murph comes back and hands you the shirt and shorts.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.. uh thanks.” You say, the older man raises a brow at you crossing his arms.

“You didn’t have to take me in, I mean honestly I expected to be brought to a homeless shelter. Just, thank you.” Your hands sweat, something that only happens when you know Quinn was going to get pissed at you for some random shit.

“It’s not a problem. We need to keep an eye on you anyways you’re our only witness after all.” You feel the room get tense so with a tight lipped smile you nod your head.

“Goodnight Murph.”

He nods back at you and shuts the door behind him.

You take off your clothes hastily.

Of course you were being used again, they weren’t going to keep their damn promise, why the hell would they? They solve a case and move on, not caring who gets hurt along the way. You were a witness, evidence of Kennedy and Quinn. Nothing more nothing less, in a month you’d be back on the streets, no job, no money, and you know damn well if you came into that Sheriffs Department bitching these bastards would act like they didn’t know who you were. Well fuck them, fuck Kennedy and Quinn, and fuck your parents for conceiving you.

Everyone will have hell to pay when this case is done.

#murph connors #murph connors x reader #bo sinclair #brian van holt

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