#wasn’t giving me any trouble at all; but my stupid ankle WAS

[fingertipsmp3]

I did have a productive day tbh. I did all my work shit, I made two appointments and I went for a run for the first time in 5 days :)

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

blank space - m. murdock

a/n: uhm... this one is dedicated to my friend arin who doesn't like daredevil but is encouraging me to be more unhinged. i hope you guys enjoy because i had a blast writing this. possible part two in the works, please like and reblog with comments and feedback <3 warnings: i cannot emphasize this enough-- DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT there is so little comfort to all of this hurt. matt is abusive and mean and reader is tortured and quiet and readers dad is an addict and a gambler and also stabbing, cursing, talking about fucking, sub/dom dynamics, nicknames, fem reader, lmk if i missed any! word count: 3.5k summary: Your dad makes your life horrible. Matt can make it worse. paring: dark!matt murdock x reader now playing: blank space (taylor's version) - taylor swift "so it's gonna be forever/or it's gonna go down in flames?/you can tell me when it's over/if the high was worth the pain"

You never meant to get involved with him.

Really, it wasn’t anything you did.

 As usual, it came back around to your father, who had a bad gambling problem, as well as a substance issue, and would often be tempted to gamble big prizes for things like coke or heroin. He would bet money, college funds, heirlooms, your house.

But of course, he couldn’t pay these debts.

Your mom had been gone for quite some time, and you suspect this is where your fathers’ addictions stem from. But you’re trying to just make your way through your adult life. You had gone to a local college, unable to afford much else. Now, you worked in a dingy little office where they constantly abused your work ethic.

Between your grief, his constant betting on your lively hood, and your asshole boss, you felt your bones grow tired. Not the sort of tired that could be fixed by a good night’s sleep. The sort of tired that could be fixed by a new life, not that you had the means for that.

You think your mother would haunt you for the rest of your days if you abandoned your dad.

Friday night came, and you were ready to go home to the small apartment you shared with your father, and drink some wine, and get a nice sleep.

You had been told by your boss that you needed to stay late to translate paper files to the digital system. No, you would not be getting paid overtime.

It was dark by the time you finally left, your feet aching in your heels as you made your way through Hell’s Kitchen, wanting to get home so as not to start crying on the streets of New York.

You don’t make it home.

As you turn the corner by your block, you notice a van creeping up on you. How long had it been following you? If you weren’t so tired, maybe you would know.

But the van pulled up next to you, and you did the only thing you could in this situation. You started to run.

Only, you made it about ten feet before you twisted your ankle with these stupid fucking heels. As you fall, you let out a cry of pain, and before you can think, two men are outside the van. They grab you by the arms and pull you into the van, the whole time you struggle.

Someone puts a black hood over your head and wraps duct tape around your hands. Your ankle is fucking aching.

You aren’t sure how long you drive for, but someone is then pulling you out of the van and drags you along. They give you an opportunity to walk but your ankle hurts to the point where you can’t walk.

They drag you again, and your foot is dragging, and holy shit, you can’t believe that your biggest concern while being kidnapped is how much your ankle hurts.

Eventually, hood on your head still, you are sat in a chair. Your hands are untied, and you want to jump up and fight, but you know your ankle won’t help you here.

They quickly tie your hands back to the chair, with rope this time. Whoever ‘they’ are.

You’re starting to have trouble breathing, because you’re realizing what sort of situation, you’re in right now.

You’ve been kidnapped for something; you have to assume in some way that it’s to get back at your father.

The hood is pulled off your head, and your eyes take a moment to adjust.

The room you’re in is dark, dingy. You know there’s two people behind you, big enough to carry you. You can hear water outside the room, assuming you’re in an abandoned office by the docks. Then, there’s three people in front of you.

One is a man, with long blond hair. He wears a nice suit and is just standing in front of the door. Another is a woman, with even longer blond hair and she also dons rather luxurious apparel. Your dirty work clothes make you look meager next to her.

The last is a man with dark hair. He wears a simple, rather expensive suit, and red glasses.

If you weren’t on the verge of a meltdown, you’d probably realize how hot he is.

Oh, he also holds a knife.

The blond man talks first.

“So. Do you want to start, or should we?”

“What?” Your ankle throbs.

“I guess we should, then.” He hums. “Do you have five grand worth of heroin on you, dear?”

You could throw up.

“I—”

“No, of course you don’t. You and your boyfriend probably used it all.”

What is he talking about? Now, on top of being in pain and panicked, you’re confused.

“The man you live with?” The woman finally speaks. “I assume you two used all the heroin he stole.”

You realize she means your father. You realize that your father stole five grand worth of heroin. What else did he steal?

“What else does he owe?”

“No, darling,” she scoffs, “We ask, you answer.”

“I don’t do heroin.”

“So, how do you know he owes us more?”

“Took a wild fucking guess.” You spit. “Figured you wouldn’t kidnap someone over five grand, figure money is no object.”

The man with the knife steps out of the shadows. Your heartbeat races, and he chuckles. He crouches in front of you.

“You’re a spitfire. I like that. In fact, I love that in a woman, don’t I, Foggy?” He turns his head back slightly.

Foggy answers.

“That you do, man.”

His head turns back to you. But you get the impression by his glasses that he can’t see. So how is he looking right at you?

“If you give us some sort of sass like that again, I’ll stab you and make sure you feel every second of pain.” You whimper, and he laughs again. “Not so cocky anymore, are we, sweetheart?” He stands and goes behind you, his arms landing on the outside of your own, caging you in. He leans down and whispers in your hear, “Is this.. turning you on, sweetheart?”

You don’t answer.

“Answer me.”

“No.”

“Liar.” He whispers back, the knife gracing over your ear. He cuts your ear just enough to make it bleed, and tears slip down your face. He makes his way back to the front of you and crouches again. “I’ll ask you again. How do you know he owes me more?”

“I figured he would, when gamblers start, they don’t stop.”

“Not only did you lie to me again, you also just gave yourself away. Lie to me again and I hurt you worse.”

Your foot that isn’t hurt goes up and kicks him in the face. At least it tries, because his reaction is too quick, and he grabs your ankle.

“Bad, bad girl.” He tuts. He lets go of your leg and picks up your other leg, the one with the bruising, swollen ankle. You start to shake. His hand squeezes the wound and when you yell in pain, he just coos at you. “Aw, does that hurt, sweetheart?”

You’re busy crying.

“Answer me!” He demands. It shakes you to your core. You realize you do not know who you’re dealing with, and you’re even angrier at your father for jeopardizing you like this.

“Yes!” You sob, and this seems to satisfy him. He takes the knife in his other hand and slowly cuts open your stocking, loving the way you’re shaking with fear.

 “Keep moving and you’ll cut yourself.”

You try to calm yourself down, on the verge of a panic attack. The knife grazes your leg, and he starts to focus in on your thigh, twisting the knife around your skin.

“How do you know him?” he asks. And you aren’t sure why you try it. You don’t know how he knows when you lie.

“I’ll find a way to pay you back, just let me go, I promise, I’ll tell you where he is, just—”

Then you feel it.

The knife pierces your thigh and is lodged into your leg. You scream in pain, gripping the arms of the chair. Fuck, it hurts. Your vision blurs, and you’re unsure whether it’s from pain or from your tears.

 He stands up in front of you, ignoring the stares from Karen and Foggy. He knows he might have gone a step too far for someone he’s pretty sure is innocent in all this. But he can’t help himself. He likes hearing you wither in pain, and he likes being the person administering the pain. He has all these things he’s in control of, but at this moment, no one else is in the room. It’s you and him, in a rather intimate moment.

He pats your chin, “C’mon, focus, right here, sweetheart. Tell me the truth and I make the pain go away.” He tells you, breaking through the wall of pain and fear that blocks your ability to think.

“He’s my father!” You finally cry out. It comes out as if you’re yelling in church, screaming to God a confession you can’t bear anymore. The only thing missing is your position on your knees, but being below this man like this is as close to an altar as you can see yourself being. “I know he has a gambling problem, and I know he has a drug problem but that’s it! I don’t know anything else, I just lost the parent roulette, okay?!” Your words come gasped out, in between sobs and when you’re not too distracted with your pain.

He seems to be satisfied with this. He gets back down, closer to the ground. Now he’s the one at the altar, but the devil has no place in a church, only between your thighs. He tilts his head and kisses the inside of your thigh.

“See? Good girls get rewards.” Bad girls get stabbed. He stands up, and with him, he pulls at the knife. Blood gushes as you cry out in pain again, sure he'll leave you to bleed out, to be fed on by rats.

He drops the knife at your feet and adjusts his tie.

“What should we do with her, boss?”

“Go get her father.” He says, “But don’t let her go just yet. I’d like to keep her a while.” You think you’ll be sick. “Knock her out though, we don’t want her knowing where she is.” That’s the last thing before the butt of a gun meets your head.

It’s a nice relief from the pain.  

• • •

You wake up on a bed with silk sheets. It’s almost nice enough for you to forget about the whole situation. Maybe your whole life has been a dream, and really, you’re a rich housewife for a man who loves you deeply and your mom is still alive.

But then you sit up, and your stockings are ripped, and your heels are gone.

A brace wraps around your hurt ankle. A bandage wraps around your thigh. The pain isn’t there anymore, you’re not sure what drugs have been given to you.

The room is rather barren, you realize, with little to no works of art or even photos, and it’s rather dark. It’s also freezing cold, a central air system whirling around you. You wonder, if you’re a prisoner, then why put you in a room like this?

What is happening?

The door opens and immediately you went to defend yourself, though there were no weapons around you.

The man from the night before steps into the room, and he looks... casual. He wears dark jeans and a tee shirt, his glasses discarded. Bandages wrapped around his knuckles.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” You don’t respond, just stare at him. “I’m Matt.”

You stay quiet.

“You’re not being tortured anymore, honey. If you want, you can lie and be mean now, I don’t bite. Not anymore. Not unless you want me to.”

“I’m Matt.” You repeat, unable to believe it. “You stab me in the leg and kidnap me, and you go as casual as ‘I’m Matt’?” He grins.

“I told you; I love a woman with some fire.” You wonder how many times he’s used that line on people. “Telling them they’re beautiful just doesn’t hit the same way when you’re blind.” He says, going over to a door, and when he opens it, you realize it’s a closet.

“I want nothing to do with you.”

“No?” He turns to you, and smiles. He says your name. How does he know it? “You went to college for Marketing, cute. No siblings. Your mom died a few years ago, after a long battle with cancer. I’m sorry.” This sounds sincere. “You were engaged once, but he cheated on you and is now married to the other woman.” And he goes back to stinging. “Your father, I know all about him. David is an addict and a gambler. Now, addict, I could deal with. Addiction runs deep but it can be managed. It’s the gambling that frustrates me, and Sweetheart, If I’m frustrated, you must be riled up. He gambles everything, I should know. He gambles it to Foggy, who shares it with me.” He hums. He picks clothes out of the closet and heads back to you, “The pants are your size, but the shirt is mine.” He tells you, laying the clothes out in front of you. “Don’t worry about me watching, or anything.” It’s almost enough to make you smile.

You get changed, the challenge of slipping into the slightly lose jeans the hardest part. The bandage fits right in there, but even whatever pain meds have been given to you, aren’t enough.

“So, your father,” You groan, your face in your hands. You get it, your father is awful, and he hates him, but you know that your father is awful, and you know that you hate him. Why must he keep involving you? “I know, sweetheart, you’re in pain, and you hate him, but just stay with me on this.” he says, a cooing tone to his voice. You don’t know why, but you’re compelled to listen to him. “Your father forces you to live in this small apartment, because you’re the only one who works, and he always manages to find your money to gamble away. But it’s not just the money, it’s your electronics, your nice shoes, any pills you have in the house. And really, by doing all this, he is gambling you. Because not only is he risking not being able to pay his debts and someone taking you, but you’re tired. Aching for absolution that will never come. But the worst part is that even though all this stems from his grief around your mom, he gambled her wedding and engagement rings, the one you were always told you’d be proposed with.”

Tears well your eyes.

“Please, stop.”

He sits next to you on the bed, and you don’t have the energy to move away from him. In fact, you lean against him ever so slightly. He must know it too, you figure, since he can tell when you’re lying and when your heartbeat races. He’s warmer than you imagined. He’s a beacon of warmth in this cold, dim room.

He takes something out of his pocket, and then drops it into your hands. It’s a necklace, just a simple chain. Three things hang on it. A silver charm with an ‘M’ on it, and two rings. Your mom’s engagement ring, and her wedding band. You thought you’d never see it again, not after you came home and went to your jewelry box only to find out from your dad that he had lost it in a poker match a few weeks before.

You clutch the necklace in your hands.

“M for Matt?”

“Or Murdock, whatever you’d like.”

“You’re in charge, right? Just how in charge are you?”

“I run everything. There isn’t a corner of this city that I don’t have men in.” So, he’s the kingpin. The boss. Matt Murdock, a man feared by all, gentle to only you. Only for this moment.

“You’re not going to let me go, are you?”

“Bun, I was never going to let you go. But I don’t think you want to leave, either.”

You stay quiet. You can’t run. He made sure of that. Was he always going to stab you? Had he decided that from the moment he heard you whimper or was it your reaction to his pet names that did you in?

His fingers come up to graze your ear gently, but you flinch, since it’s where he had cut you.

“Bunnies are always so sensitive to the ears. Fragile. It’s not like you can hop away. Besides, you need time to heal, and I could take away all the pain. No more mean fathers, no more mean bosses, and no more mean thoughts.” He says gently. “I could put you back together.”

His voice is soft, as if his intentions are as well, but you’re sure he’ll destroy you. He will not put you back together, only break you down, collecting tiny pieces of you for his collection.

You consider it. You would never have to work again. You would never have to do anything again. You would never have to see your father again.

You turn your head, and nod.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll stay.” It wasn’t as if you had a choice in the matter. But nonetheless, He grins, and takes the necklace from you, only to wrap it around your neck, and clasp it on.

Despite the rings being something you had longed for, the ‘M’ alone weighs on you like a boulder.

He tilts your head gently, his fingers brushing against your chin, and you look away, ashamed of what you have done. He grabs your chin and keeps you looking at him. He leans forward and for a moment you just stay, feeling his hot breath against your lips. Tears escape from your eyes and run down your cheeks. He tuts softly and kisses your cheeks where the tears lie.

“Sh, Sh.. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he comforts. His other hand trails down to your thigh, where two of his fingers find the stab wound, and push into it. You whimper in pain, grasping his wrist. He sighs deeply, “Pretty noises.” He hums. “I would never deny you anything, bun. But if you deny me what I ask, it won’t end well for you. Understand?”

You nod, but when you aren’t verbal, he pushes down harder, the bandage and his fingers soaking with blood.

“Tell me. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand, Matt.” You manage to whimper out. He takes his fingers away and kisses your cheek.

“Good. Good job, honey.” He says softly, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and licking your blood off them. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

He leans forward and kisses you, and it’s full of a gentleness you weren’t sure he was capable of. You kiss back, afraid of what he’ll do if you deny him again.

He winds up kissing you to sleep, not mad at you for falling tired as you kiss. You lay with him in these silk sheets, freezing cold as you cuddle into him. He relishes being wanted. You accept that this is love. He feels you shivering and pulls you closer.

His hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers tickling the bottom of your torso. You whine when he does this, burying your head in the crook of his neck. He laughs, kissing your head.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’ll buy you blankets. Blankets, Diamonds, anything you want.” He tells you. You’re tired. You just want to nap. You want him to give you more of the drugs that dull the pain of your thigh, and you want to eat something homemade that you didn’t cook yourself.

You want to give in and remain thoughtless. Just be happy with him since no one is looking for you anyways.

But as you drift off to sleep, feeling his hands crawl along your skin, you begin to plan. You’ll let him think you’re in love with him. You’ll let him love you, fuck you, put you back together. You’ll be his bunny, his arm candy, his toy to dress up and do whatever the fuck he wants. You’ll let him think he owns you.

He’ll know that he does.

And you’ll become close to his friends too. You’ll dress in pretty dresses, and he’ll pretend he’s oblivious to how much everyone wants you.

 And then, when your wounds heal, you’ll run.

You’ll flee the country, you’ll change your name, dye your hair.

But you don’t yet realize how relentless he is. How deeply enamored of you he is. By how determined he is to have you.

Escaping the devil will not be as easy as you think it might, not when he can hear your heartbeat, not when he can smell you, not when he wants you.

And it doesn’t help when he gives you the honor of killing your father.

That’s when you start to fall in love with him.

[apoptoses]

Armand/Daniel

Opening sentence/prompt: Daniel often let himself get dragged into trouble by Armand, but this was a whole new level of risky.

look i've had this screencap from crash on my mind for WEEKS (which i will place at the end of the fic) and i had to exorcise this hospital demon that's in me via this prompt. So tw for correct use of syringes/medical kink ♥

Daniel often let himself get dragged into trouble by Armand, but this was a whole new level of risky.

"You're gonna get me in deep shit. They'll kick me out of the hospital," Daniel hissed as Armand undid the ties on his gown. "I don't see why you can't just fix it with the blood anyways, this all seems like a waste of time."

Going to the roller disco had been a stupid fucking idea. It figured that Daniel would wind up twisting his ankle and falling in a way that shattered his bones into so many pieces he'd had to leave in an ambulance. And now here he laid in a hospital bed with just a curtain pulled around them for privacy, his leg in traction while doctors consulted over how best to put his bones back together.

Armand, of course, was fascinated by the whole thing. The great metal contraption that held his leg high above the bed had been subjected to his examination the moment the nurse had left the room.

And now, it seemed, Daniel himself would be examined.

"Because, lover, the drinks I give you are enough to heal a small wound," Armand murmured as he parted the soft cotton gown, just far enough to expose Daniel from chest to toe on the one side. "Healing this would require an amount of blood your mortal body could never process all at once. It will take a number of nights to give you that much."

Daniel rolled his eyes. “And I guess until those nights are up you’ll be playing nurse to me?”

Armand’s fangs glinted in the sickly overhead lighting of the hospital ward. He leaned across and flicked on the panel beside the bed to illuminate Daniel’s x-rays.

“Yes. Exactly.”

Strange, seeing his own bones on the x-ray film, lit up bright white and surrounded by the grey artifacts of his musculature. If Daniel looked closely enough he could see each little crack and splinter, destruction wreaked by a combination of too many beers and a desire to impress his Armand. Well, he could consider that achieved, if not in the way he’d intended. Armand was certainly impressed by the cart of supplies a nurse had left behind with them.

He slid the drawers open and shut. The supplies on the top of the cart -cotton swabs, gauze, a box Daniel had a feeling was full of suturing supplies he desperately hoped Armand wouldn’t find- rattled as he hunted through the cart. There was no way of knowing what he was looking for. No way to know if he’d found it, either. Armand never made a sound when he discovered the thing he was wanting, not like a mortal would.

“Are you in a great deal of pain, Daniel?” Armand murmured.

“Well considering my ankle looks like it’s full of corn flakes instead of bones, I’d say yeah. It hurts a bit,” Daniel said. “What are you even looking for in there?”

Armand said nothing. He turned and disappeared through the curtain, fabric rustling with his departure.

Daniel lifted his head to see where he was headed, and then let it fall back against the pillow. “Great. Just wonderful.” 

The clock above the bed ticked interminably. There was the soft beep of machines in other bays, the low drone of nurses gossiping as they walked past. Daniel shivered at the cold- hospitals were always freezing, god he hated being here- and considered tying his gown back shut. He toyed with the cotton strings, watching the floor for any signs of Armand’s return.

Surely he’d be back soon. He wouldn’t leave Daniel here, all on his own. Or would he? Maybe this wasn’t interesting for him after all. Maybe he’d take off like he used to, leave Daniel to mend and come back when he could be entertaining again. It would be an asshole move. Seemingly unlike him, from what Daniel had seen of his affections in the past year but- well, anything was possible with Armand.

The curtain slid back. The panic that had started to constrict Daniel’s chest eased at the sight of Armand, and then crept back in at the way he was concealing something in his hand, the stethoscope around his neck. The rubber on it was pale purple, just like the veins beneath his eyes.

“I acquired some pain medication for you, though it’s a form I’m not sure you’ll be familiar with,” Armand announced. “Would you prefer it before or after I examine you?”

Before or after? Before or after what? Daniel’s mind raced. He tried to imagine what kind of exam this was going to be, if Armand would make it hurt in a way he liked or just flat out try to make him feel good. Or something more sinister, perhaps. Something involving humiliation; Armand’s most favorite way of getting his blood pumping in his chest.

Daniel shifted on the bed. Pain radiated into his knee, up through his thigh and into his gut. His stomach turned like he might be sick from it.

“Before. Definitely before, just do it now,” Daniel gasped.

Armand laid his supplies out on top of the cart. A tiny glass vial, a syringe with the cap still on, an alcohol pad. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves as though he did this sort of thing every day. And though pain was still making his head spin, the sight of pale blue latex stretched over dead skin still made Daniel’s heart race. By the time Armand opened the alcohol swab and was running it over the crook of his elbow Daniel could hear his own blood pounding in his ears.

“How do you know how to do this?” he asked, unable to help himself.

“I attended anatomical lessons in Paris. I’ll be giving the injection intravenously,” Armand said as he drew up the solution into the syringe. Daniel’s eyes tracked the way it filled the thing, liquid rising and rising behind little black lines until Armand had exactly the dose he wanted. “This way it will take effect more quickly. Keep your arm still for me, Daniel.”

As though Daniel had a choice. Armand’s hand around his bicep was tighter than any tourniquet, cutting off his blood flow until his veins showed thick and blue in the crook of his arm. Normally Daniel hated this part. He’d never liked being pricked and prodded, not since he was a child getting his first vaccines. But having Armand do it- Armand with his serious, flat expression, focused so completely on his task- well, it was different. Fascinating a way that made it impossible not to look down and see exactly what he was staring at.

The needle pierced his flesh. Sharp, slim in a way Armand’s fangs weren’t. Being bitten ached, it made Daniel’s world explode behind his eyes with the bright pain of it. Armand sticking him with the syringe was a narrow sort of pain. The type of thing that made his fingers curl into his palm, fist clenched at the hurt.

“It has to be injected slowly,” Armand murmured as he pushed down the plunger. “Otherwise your chest cavity will become rigid and constrict.”

Daniel’s mouth was dry. His heart felt liable to crack his sternum with how hard it was beating, his blood rushing through his veins faster than it ever had, and-

“Oh, christ,” Daniel gasped as the morphine hit.

It was like being dropped into a warm bath, sinking below the water level so that every part of him was submerged. Any pain he had was gone, any self consciousness at being exposed, too. As Armand pulled the needle from his skin Daniel’s pupils blew wide, the drug tingling its way through his face. He went to raise his hand and touch his shining, auburn hair but his limbs felt full of lead. He could hardly move, much less say anything coherent.

“Do you feel better, Daniel? You certainly look as if you do,” Armand said, a hint of amusement creeping into his expression. His eyes had that tightness to them that told Daniel he was holding back a grin. “You look as if you enjoyed that very much, in fact.”

The latex wrapped hand around his cock came as a surprise. One second Armand was popping the ear pieces of the stethoscope into his ears and placing the frigid steel end of it onto his chest, and the next Daniel was biting back a wet gasp. Leg up in the metal contraption and drugged as he was, he had no hope of squirming away from the cold stethoscope or arching into Armand’s hand. He was entirely at his mercy.

And there was something nice about that. In the way his subconscious kept telling him to worry about nurses walking in on them but the rest of his body wouldn’t react to the fear. Daniel liked risk, he liked it when Armand made him feel on the edge of collapse but this- he liked this too. 

“Yes. Your heart rhythm is so even, Daniel. Not like the other times I’ve had my hand on you in public,” Armand said. His palm was so strangely cool on Daniel’s sternum, heavy like the great glass paper weight he used to steal off his father’s desk. “You enjoy having choice taken from you in all ways, don’t you?”

Daniel nodded. His eyes fluttered as Armand’s thumb swiped over the tip of his cock, collected the wetness there and glided back down to the root of him. The friction mingled with the buzz of the morphine in his veins. It was like being fucked up on the blood, but more somehow. Armand’s blood had never made him feel pinned to a bed like this. 

But then again, Daniel had never been trapped in a steel contraption, relegated to a hospital bed. Armand had never really tied him down before and that, suddenly, seemed like such a shame.

Armand cocked his head. “Perhaps when you are better. Daniel, do you know how bones heal?”

Daniel let out a shuddering breath. He glanced at the curtain, checking for anyone who might catch him with his toes curling against the sheets and his cock leaking into Armand’s hand. No feet, no visitors. The nurses had stopped talking in the hall and that seemed odd, though he wasn’t able to articulate his thoughts on that; not while Armand was stroking him this way, his hand tight and steady as it moved over the entire length of him. He shook his head.

“No,” he managed to say as Armand moved the stethoscope on his chest and tightened his grip on his dick. “What are you listening for? Can’t you hear my heart well enough on your own?”

“I’m listening to more than your heart. I can hear your lungs, the way your breathing has been affected by the cigarettes you smoke. You have a rasp when you breathe in,” Armand said placidly. “I can hear your stomach as well, digesting your dinner. But as I was saying, your bones-”

Daniel inhaled sharply when Armand placed the stethoscope on the sensitive skin of his stomach. It had warmed, but only slightly. It was still a jarring feeling to have it press down on such a tender organ, a shock that sent heat right to his dick. He shifted on the bed, tried to arch up into his hand. The traction apparatus squeaked its protest.

Jesus, how was no one hearing this? Surely they were gonna get caught, Daniel thought, and how was he going to explain this? Sorry, my dead boyfriend thought he’d give me a check up while I’m here, maybe you should hire him as a nurse. He’s certainly good with blood.

Daniel let out a delirious laugh. He let his eyes fall closed as Armand rubbed his thumb on his cock in a way that sent sparks shooting beneath his skin.

“First your body sends blood to the area, to coagulate and form a protective clot,” Armand murmured, moving the stethoscope back up to his sternum. “In time that clot becomes a callus that the bone is able to grow over, thread by thread.”

Armand’s hand was tight around him, firm in a way that was so entirely inhuman. It was like being jerked off by a statue wrapped in velvet and then covered by latex, soft and hard at the same time. Like a machine whose movements were precise and unchanging. The rhythm he stroked Daniel’s cock with was maddeningly slow, steady in a way that made him wish he could thrust his hips up and chase his orgasm. He could feel it coiling in him. Heat and pleasure wound tight at the base of his spine, joined the drugs in his system and left him dizzy with it.

Daniel clutched at the sheets. He heard footsteps pass their bay and even though no one pulled back the curtain he still turned bright red.

Armand rubbed back and forth over the wetness at the tip. He coated his palm with it, ignored Daniel’s desperate and poorly muffled whine, and stroked him again. “And once those tiny threads of bone have covered the callus entirely they become one with it. It disappears into the bone as though it was never there.”

“Please,” Daniel whispered.

Armand ignored him. His eyes were fixed not on Daniel, but on his x-rays on the wall, like he was memorizing what the insides of his leg looked like. Daniel shivered at the thought. Goosebumps raced across his skin and left his hair standing on end.

“Sometimes I wonder which I am with you, Daniel. The callus that’s being transformed or the bone, covering you and consuming you from the outside in,” Armand said, voice low enough only Daniel could hear. “What do you think?”

Daniel didn’t think anything. He couldn’t, not with Armand’s hand picking up speed or the morphine making his tongue feel like a dead weight in his mouth. There was a pair of feet beneath the curtain, just outside their bay. He wanted to cry out, to tell them not to come in. He wanted to moan his pleasure into his hand and muffle the sound but he couldn’t lift his fingers.

Armand jerked him fast. He leaned in and caught Daniel’s mouth with his just as orgasm hit, pleasure crashing over him in waves. 

It was impossible for Armand to swallow his groan entirely but he stifled it just enough it sounded like a groan of pain, and not one of the pulsing in his groin that was causing him to kick his foot down into the bed. The metal on the traction device rattled as Daniel shook with it. He spilled hard over the latex glove, down the backs of Armand’s fingers. Trembled with the force of it, with the rush of blood and endorphins mixing with the morphine and making him see stars.

He barely even registered Armand’s fang nicking his tongue. The taste of blood in his mouth was all that gave it away, that and Armand sucking on his tongue in a way that wrenched another desperate sound from his lungs. 

The pair of feet retreated from their bay. From down the hall Daniel could hear idle chatter again, mixed with the footsteps walking away.

“Do you feel better now, Daniel?” Armand asked.

Daniel nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think I can even feel my leg anymore,” he said with a laugh.

Armand’s clean up process was clinical. Methodical. Daniel watched through heavily lidded eyes as he pulled the glove off, turning it inside out and trapping his mess inside it. Tossed it into the trash with the morphine vial, and put the syringe into the sharps contained. The stethoscope disappeared into the pile of their jackets, to be taken home with them.

When Armand did up the ties on his gown his fingers were warmed with Daniel’s blood. “See? I’ll take care of you, Daniel. I’ve already arranged for the pain medication we’ll be taking home with us. I’ll administer it to you every evening until my blood heals you.”

“More shots?” Daniel slurred.

Armand shook his head. He brushed Daniel’s hair back from his forehead. It was comforting when he did that. Daniel couldn’t help but turn toward his gentle hand.

“No. Did you know that when drugs are administered rectally they absorb as quickly as if they were injected into the veins? I’ll have to put you over my lap to give it to you, Daniel. You’ll be a good patient and allow me, won’t you?” Armand asked.

The hospital lighting cast shadows beneath his eyes, lit up his fangs in a way that made them look unreal; like cut glass, just waiting to rip into Daniel’s flesh. Daniel shivered at the thought, face gone red at the idea of Armand giving him his medication in that sort of way.

“I’ll be an excellent nurse to you, Daniel,” Armand said, corners of his mouth curled into a smile. “You only have to allow me to be.”

(the reference from crash, which has been burned into my brain and left me desperate to put daniel in traction like this for a hot minute now)

(ps if you want me to write a follow up with daniel getting taken care of at home, let me know ♥)

[flownwrong]

expectations (a due south fic)

F/K, 1.5k words, additional tags: first kiss, stupid phone conversations, drama over a duffel bag

I'll tell you what I told ao3:

"My writing hit a wall a while back. To deal with it, I decided I'd write the only way I can now—short fic I can seat-of-my-pants in one day. A piece for each ship/fandom/idea where I have wips or thoughts that I can't make into actual works. This is the first one.

Thanks to @nigeltde-fic for dragging me down with this ship, and generally being a champion. <3”"

read on ao3

Maybe it really is a damn Groundhog Day type situation. Only twice as boring and nobody gets the girl, like, ever.

One thing he never pictured when he thought of the after-fraser-life, which he didn’t do very often, or, well, maybe he did, but he didn’t like doing it, point being—one thing he didn’t imagine was that it would be the same. As in, poof, never happened, must have daydreamed it, off you go, Stanley, play well with the boys.

And, well, it isn’t really a never-happened kinda deal, because Fraser, he just lives in a pocket in Ray’s head now, twenty-four-literal-seven, like friends do, you know, or something close. And what with Vecchio and Stella fucking off to Florida and Frannie doing her thing all while they were still doing the big adventure stuff, between all that it’s hard to not notice the change. But other than that—it’s the same job, the same desk (his desk, The Kowalski Desk), the same bottle in the cabinet above the sink and the same—the inside of his head is the same, too, giving him trouble like always.

The way they left things—if that’s even what happened, left things, huh—it’s not what he feared. Not what he expected, either—and it took him many, many frozen-through adrenaline-drunk days to put a finger on it, that there was an expectation. And now back here, it’s like one of those tip-of-the-tongue moments he’s so familiar with, only with that expectation; it circles him all predatory with every lonely shuffle around his dance-apartment-floor and every stupid late night reruns session and every finger of drink he takes with that, and then it wafts away on the wind, leaving him feeling like he missed a step and twisted his ankle. Which is kinda stupid, when you come to think of it, since it looks like all his worst-case scenarios solved themselves and left him with a cushy little offering while he was playing explorer, and wasn’t that what it was all about.

And maybe it wasn’t, because Fraser calls, like he does, which floors Ray a little every single time for reasons he can’t even begin to articulate, he calls on a Friday and brings him up to speed on Dief’s aversion to the nearest Tim Hortons (nearest being a few hours’ trip to Yellowknife) because quote he says it’s cheating and Chicago ones tasted better and frankly it’s insulting end quote and how you pay and pay and pay and how he fixed up the cabin now and the second bed is new and really much better than the one Ray had to deal with up there, he made sure of that (felled the best tree he could find, Ray wagers), and Ray finds himself nodding and humming and gripping the stupid station handset, knuckles gone white, biting his cheek, hell if he knows why, not like his smile could do any damage at this point. “There isn’t a waiting list for that bed, is there?” he says, no reservations worth stopping for. And, “no,” says Fraser, and there’s that expectation, clarion as you please, ten-four, roger that. “Greatness,” Ray says, and hangs up, and does a little shimmy he’s not even ashamed of.

And then Fraser doesn’t call for three weeks, in which Ray is very productive, managing to vent drunkenly at Turtle who looks so unimpressed Ray thinks he actually hears him sigh, pack the bag, unpack the bag, consider terminating the lease, call in with Welsh then come in anyway, chase the latest case into almost three whole days awake and get sent away by Welsh anyway once the Bonnie and Clyde of small-time food truck GTA are locked up, pick up the phone roughly thirty-seven times, put it down thirty-six, and that last time, Fraser picks up and calls out for him softly and he’s too much of a chicken to do it back. Where exactly they tripped in a dance Ray felt resonate in his bones, he can’t guess.

Week four, Fraser calls, only it’s Ray’s doorbell that rings this time, and he picks himself up faster than he would the phone.

“Fraser,” he says first, then swings the door open, “Frase,” gripping his wrists way too tight, “what in god’s name was that—scratch that, don’t say, one thing it was is not buddies.”

“I don’t see what you mean, Ray,” Fraser says, and it’s supposed to make him angry, this far in, only this time Fraser is wrapped up in a soft green-gray flannel instead of the red walking coffin and he has his beat-up bag and the stupid hat on, so even Ray can see through the reflex of it. Fraser tugs gently at him. “Ah, Ray, if you could just let me put my bag down—thank you kindly.’

“You do, Frase, I know you do.” He lets Fraser’s wrists go for half a second it takes for the bag to thud onto the floor—other side of the threshold, damn it—and not a moment longer. “Did you come to stand outside my home and bullshit me?”

“Yes. I mean, not for that, no, but yes, I forgot about—oh, darn,” he says and tugs one hand free to take his stetson off, which is how you know, if you’re Ray, things are afoot. Big things. Momentary events in history. So when Fraser steps one foot in and leans back against the doorjamb and pulls him near—with hands snaking under his arms to land just below his shoulder blades, one half of a hug not yet given, a freakish way only Fraser would go with, which fires Ray up instantly, heat flooding his face like a punch he has to close his eyes against—when that’s done, Ray can find his mouth blind he’s so ready.

“You’re off,” he mumbles, because Fraser is the one with eyes open and he still landed somewhere around where Ray’s lips turn into his cheek, and then only corrected half an inch down, catching the corner of his open-eager mouth.

Fraser presses a kiss there, with intent. “Not,” he says, and then, then he hits the bullseye, fucking A, bingo, job done, you get a sticker—or a mouthful of tongue, because that’s faster where they stand.

“Momentous,” Fraser says into Ray’s hair, some breathless minutes later, and Ray says, “wha—’ and Fraser says, “you said, or rather mouthed, something about momentary events, if my memory serves—well, it must, it’s only been three minutes. I suppose you meant momentous, given the context.”

“Jesus, Shakespeare, come the fuck in, what do I have to offer to get you both feet inside.”

Fraser straightens but doesn’t move an inch to displace Ray where he’s giving him the second half of a hug. “Well, Ray, I didn’t mean to stay, per se.”

Ray disentangles them and tugs at the lapels of Fraser’s really very soft shirt, whenever he’s grabbed those, huh. He blinks once, twice, and thinks about how many bottles he will have to get for that cabinet now, because fucking hell. The bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to rub at his eyebrow, so to him it all makes sense somehow. He looks down and frowns.

“What’s with the bag?”

When he looks back up, Fraser smiles, an honest to god I’m-back-in-ten-foot-snow-and-alive-again grin, eyes kind of superglued to Ray’s face. “Promised Dief to get some of those Chicago donuts, which are, apparently ‘the right kind’.”

Ray steps back, shoves at Fraser’s chest, no way-like, and folds in two with laughter. Fraser looks at him all affectionate, and the absurdity is so familiar it gives Ray a headrush. Or maybe that’s all the wheezing he's doing.

“A bag? A whole bag of donuts?”

Fraser gets this look where his eyes get all liquid and light, and now that Ray’s got the manual he knows that translates to scared and hopeful in downright unhealthy measures. “I didn’t count on being back to Chicago soon.”

Ray can feel he’s doing the superglue thing now, too.

Fraser clears his throat. “Oh dear. Unless—I didn’t mean to presume, it’s only that on the phone—”

Ray cuts him off in a voice that’s too rough to seize the reins of, so it will probably break in there somewhere but it’s all a-okay now, isn’t it—says, “You’ll have to get in here, Frase. I think I’ll want some pants with my donuts, and I’m now in the bag-unpacked phase—uh, anyway.”

He heads inside and hears Fraser shut the door and toe off his boots. 

So maybe there was no tripping after all. Just Fraser and his insane moves Ray always learns, dancing skills be damned. Good thing he isn’t Bill Murray—would be awkward to explain this to the girl.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Bad, bad, bad day.

Short version? My brother screamed at me, not shouted, screamed. He started at shout level, and shouted louder to cut me off any time .i tried to talk.

I’d sent a message trying to explain (calmly and in detail) the situation with all the stuff in the house, but no one responded. So when I called Mom I was shocked to get yelled at the second he picked up the phone. My message was “sharp”, “snippy”, and “nasty”, so I tried to say I hadn’t mean it that way, I just wanted to explain…

And the screaming started.

I asked if we could move Mom in the bed room with the least stuff, with the advantage it was next to the bathroom. This was, apparently, a stupid suggestion. He didn’t want nurses or aides walking around the house, so the ONLY place to put her was the front bedroom.

The room with all my stuff, every wall floor to ceiling with books, and thousands of action figures, dolls, stuffed animals, figurines, odd objects covering them like moss.

I said it would take time, but I’d do it.

Screaming.

Turns out the floor to HIS house is collapsing (making his belittling me for my floor troubles extra irritating) and they need to do this immediately.

I said I’d do it, just give me a little time.

Screaming. Apparently I don’t care about Mom, it’s Mom’s house so she shouldn’t have to wait, I’m lazy, I….

I took a deep breath and said yelling at me wasn’t helping, and I already said I would do it.

He screamed LOUDER! He’s said I was yelling, and then said if he was screaming it was my fault.

I had to hold the phone away from my ear. I heard his voice go beyond what it could handle, screeching.

I tried one last time to say I’d do it.

He hung up. I didn’t get to talk to Mom at all. I don’t know when he will let me talk to her again.

I don’t think he EVER heard me say I would do it. He sure never acknowledged it. He acted like I was saying “no”

After the call I rushed to Mom’s house to work in a frenzy, faster than I should have. I fell down twice. I worked without a break. I didn’t stop until 6:30. I can barely walk. My feet, ankles, bad knee, bad elbow, and back all hurt like hell. I’m exhausted.

I’ve filled all the sofas, chairs, and beds. I’ve stacked books on planks on the floor in the other room, I’ve books three feet high on my brother’s work out bench (his stuff is in that other room and I have to work around it) There is stuff everywhere…

And this is the easy stuff. Where do I put the books when there is no where to put them? And where do I put the bookcases when they were in the only place big enough for them?

Dunno. This is hellish. I’m one person, with a broken body at that, and no free space at all to put anything!

And I dragged myself back to the shop house to feed Ryoga, only to find my dear piggy has torn a plank off his house, so I had to wade through the mud (it poured all day) to get it out before he hurt himself on a nail. Now I have to fix his damn house!

And there isn’t enough money in my back account to buy animal feed next week, so I have to cross my fingers I can make it last long enough.

And my ipod shuffle, the last way I had left to listen to music, died for good. Because of course it would when I needed music to soothe me.

Then again, could anything soothe me right now???

[readerleedigest]

On Edge Pt. 2

This is a tickle fic. Don’t read if that’s not your thing. 

Reader does have to go get their ankle checked out after the fall they took in Part 1. 

“You ready to go?” Steve was standing in the doorway, swinging the keys around his fingers. 

You finished tying your shoe, which fit uncomfortably around the ace bandage on your ankle. It’d seemed like the ankle had healed after your fall down the stairs. However, now that it’d been a month the pain had started up again, and you could tell you were fighting to keep from rolling it again. 

You’d planned to just give it more time, but Robin was adamant that you let Steve take you to get it checked out. One thing led to another, and they’d sent you to Physical Therapy. 

Something you’d be more than happy to drive yourself to and from. 

“Steve, for the last time, I’m perfectly capable of driving myself there.” You stood up, gesturing towards your wrapped ankle. “I think the whole thing is pretty pointless anyways. Gait and strength training. As if I don’t know how to walk.”

“Do you?” Steve laughed. “Know how to walk, that is? Because I’ve seen enough to argue otherwise.”

“Okay, rude,” you scoffed, barely suppressing a laugh. “Just for that, I get to choose the music in your car.”

“Oh, so I am taking you?”

“I’m blessing you with the privilege of chauffeuring me.”

“Oh, thank you most gracious Y/N.” He mockingly bowed. “Now come on. We’ll be late, and it’s your first appointment.”

By the time Steve parked the car, you were thinking of all the ways this could go wrong and you could embarrass yourself. Seriously, what kind of 20-year-old can’t walk without injuring themself? These people would think you were stupid or something.

“Hey.”

A sudden squeeze on the top of your knee had you jolting back to the present with a choked laugh. 

“STEHEVE,” you scolded, slapping his hand away. 

“I know that look. You’re in your head again.” Steve raised an eyebrow at you, and you shrugged. He wasn’t wrong. 

“Let’s just get it over with,” you sighed, getting out of the car and walking inside, Steve trailing behind. 

The receptionist had you fill out a few pages worth of paperwork, and let you know that the Physical Therapist would be out to see you shortly. 

You tried hard not to overthink again, but you were still anxious. 

“This knee is really a problem for you today, huh?” Steve joked, pushing down on your knee gently, as you’d been bouncing it up and down rapidly as you waited. 

“Maybe you just put me on edge.”

“Ah, the old ‘on edge’ excuse again. We all know what that really means.”

“That is not what I --”

You were interrupted by the Physical Therapist, who called your name and introduced herself as Sam. 

“You can bring your boyfriend back into the working area with us,” Sam offered to Steve, causing you to chuckle. 

“He’s not --”

“I’ll come back if that’s not any trouble,” Steve smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“No trouble at all!” Sam smiled, turning to lead the way. You took that opportunity to shove him away from you, causing Steve to laugh. 

You sat down on a cushioned bench, and Sam had you remove your shoe and bandage so she could see the full range of motion in your ankle. 

“Any pain?”

“None in my ankle right now.”

“How about now?” Same pushed against the bottom of your foot towards you, stretching the muscle in your lower calf.

“Ooh,” you breathed. “There’s definitely some stiffness there.”

“So the issue here isn’t really your ankle, as much as it’s your calf. When you walk, do you feel like you’re actively keeping yourself from rolling out?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Here, I’m gonna have you walk to that end of the room, and then walk back towards me.”

You did as Sam asked, and when you reached her again, she bent down to look at your ankle.

Steve quietly applauded you from behind her and mouthed the words “You can walk!”

You discreetly made a rude gesture at him, and he smothered a laugh from behind his hand.

Caught up in your exchange with Steve, you almost didn’t hear what Sam asked you next.

“Are you ticklish?”

You were briefly at a loss for words, before shaking your head.

“Nah,” you choked out, trying not to flinch as she felt the arch of your foot.

“Liar,” Steve called over to the both of you, causing Sam to laugh this time as you glared.

“Well, regardless, you aren’t flat footed, so it should just be a matter of strengthening that lower calf muscle.”

The rest of the appointment went smoothly and quickly, ending with your exercise homework for the week.

Afterwards, Steve and you were meeting with Eddie and Robin and Nancy at the Wheelers’ for a movie night in the basement.

“Well if it isn’t the maimed themself,” Eddie crooned from his spot on the armchair, his legs draped over the side.

“How’d it go?” Robin asked.

You shrugged. “Pretty good. I got homework.”

“Just when you think you’re done with school for the summer,” Nancy joked, passing you a soda as you took a seat in the floor, back propped against the couch so you were in front of Robin.

“What’s the movie of choice?” Steve asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn out of Eddie’s bowl.

“It’s a horror film about ghosts,” Robin responded, beginning to thread her fingers through your hair, something she knew very well made you melt.

“Well that would’ve been helpful earlier.”

You looked up at Steve, who was staring at you where you’d leaned into Robin’s touch.

“Whaddya mean?” You asked.

“Well, I tried tickling you to make you chill out, and that didn’t really work. But all Robin’s gotta do is play with your hair and you practically fall asleep.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Children, children,” Nancy interrupted. “Can we quit the fighting and get along?”

“But Y/N is blatantly lying!” Steve protested. “And it’s not the first time today!”

“What was the first time?” Eddie asked, genuinely curious.

“They said they weren’t to cklish.”

“Well we all know that’s not true,” Robin laughed, fluttering her fingers against your neck.

“Hehehehey! I was just trying to let the physical therapist do her job.” You scooched forward, away from Robin’s hands.

“But what is it El always says?” Steve said with a mischievous look. “Friends don’t lie.”

“It wasn’t a friend, it was a stranger!”

“Well, as long as we’re all in agreement that Y/N is quite possibly the most ticklish in our group.” Eddie stated nonchalantly, getting a chorus of agreement from the others.

“I am not!” You protested, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Wow. That makes the third lie today. You’re just asking for it aren’t ya?”

Robin was the first to pounce after she spoke, sliding down in the floor behind you to wrap you in a hug, your arms trapped in hers.

“WahahaHAHAHAIT!” You cried out as she began to blow against your neck, making you flinch.

“Are you gonna tell the truth?” Robin asked between breaths.

“Thahaht youhou all are jeheherks?”

“Alright that’s it,” Steve sighed, cracking his knuckles before kneeling beside you to squeeze at your knees.

“NAHAHA FAHAHAIR!”

“Come on, Pinocchio! Tell the truth!” Steve teased.

His pinching at your knees made you kick out and throw your head back. The ticklish shockwaves were overwhelming I’m comparison to Robin’s technique.

Eddie imitated a buzzer noise. “Time’s up! You get another tickle penalty.”

“NONONONO,” you called out, watching as he settled himself on your hips. You knew exactly where this was going.

You also knew exactly how to make it stop. Not that you wanted to.

Eddie slowly rolled up your shirt at the hem, resting it at your ribs. Then, slowly but surely he lowered his hands in two claws toward your stomach, making you thrash all the more.

And then his hands were vibrating into your stomach, and skittering across the skin like spiders, causing equal mix of cackles and giggles.

“Final chance, Y/N.” Nancy stood where she was earlier, arms crossed.

“SCREHEHEHEW YOU ALL!”

“Ooo wrong answer. You just earned the ultimate tickle penalty.” Nancy kneeled beside you, mouthing something to the guys you couldn’t see.

“You got her still, Robin?”

“Yeah, I got her. Go for it.”

Steve moved positions to kneel on your other side, and it suddenly dawned on you what they were about to do.

“Ohohokay ohohokay, mahahahaybe I am the most tihihicklish,” you admitted, closing your eyes as you felt the blush on your face grow.

“Oh we know,” Steve grinned.

“That’s what makes this so fun,” Eddie added.

Suddenly there were 6 hands sending you into ticklish bliss, drilling into your ribs, skittering over your lower stomach, vibrating into your middle.

You. Were. Dying.

You descended into silent laughter quickly, and they let up slowly.

“Youhouhou guys are the worst.” You felt the smile on your face saying otherwise, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Not yet,” Nancy smirked, before lowering her head quickly to blow a raspberry on your stomach.

“I GIHIHIVE!” You screeched, and the next second Nancy was smoothing your shirt back down as Robin rested your head in her lap, resuming paying with your hair.

“Aww poor Pinocchio is tired.” Eddie rolled off of you.

“Please don’t start calling me that,” you giggled.

“Well, it’s either that or Giggles.”

You groaned, leaning back sleepily with an amused smile.

Pinocchio would be lucky to have friends like these.

[amyelevenn]

I Hate to Interrupt This Alternate Universe I've Wandered Into

c!Technoblade x gn!reader

add yourself to the taglist here!

series masterlist here!

main masterlist here!

Chapter 2 of my series Glimmer in the Eye of the Curious

PAIRING; c!Technoblade x gn!reader

SUMMARY; You and Technoblade have a bit of an...unwanted... reunion, but it's better than being dead

....well, is it?

WARNINGS/TAGS; nothing really - a bit of panic

A/N; so I realised I want this fic to feel like the song snowfall by Øneheart (you may know from tiktok) - sad, angsty undertones but still have happier, nostalgic vibes to it?? I don’t really know but I hope someone understands the vibe I’m tryna give

also -  i have some questions;

- do you guys like this chapter length? would you rather longer/shorter?

- do we want this to be angsty? cause if you have read any of my other stuff you know i am a sucker for angst, but i want it to appeal to you guys!!

1.8k words

A tired yawn emitted quietly from your lips, your eyes struggling to open. The first thing you felt was a weary, refreshing euphoria – the type you would feel after waking up from a much-needed midday nap, or after sleeping for 13 straight hours. However short-lived the warmth is, you bask in the intoxication as it slips through your fingers and moulds into an aching agony.

You should be dead.

With an alarming amount of effort, you open your eyes, groaning quietly as your whole body floods with aches and pains. You notice distantly that you are still caked in blood and mud, and still slightly damp from the snow. It takes a second to soak in your surroundings, and the fact that you don’t recognise one thing nearby – coming rather quickly to the conclusion that this isn’t somewhere you had been before, and that needed to change.

Maybe it was all a horrible nightmare, and you were really dead, and this was your version of limbo. Honestly, a win for everyone.

A voice clears its throat from across the room.

So, not limbo – not just yet.

Ignoring the soreness of your neck and the protest of almost every limb in your body, you snap your head to see a fairly large man leaning casually against his sink, sipping something out of a mug as if this was just a normal Monday – or whatever day it was now – for him.

And knowing Technoblade, this very well might be.

“How ya feelin’?” he asks, not moving from his place. “You weren’t out very long – woke up much earlier than I expected, actually.”

You hesitate, expression falling. No. No, no no no no no. Not here. Not now.

As subtly as you can manage you look for an escape route, a way you can get out fast and avoid trouble.

“There’s no point. I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

You weren’t stupid. With the condition you were in, there simply wasn’t a way of leaving without injuring yourself even further.

You go to reply to his first remark, but all the rasps out from your throat is a rough croak, sending a throb of pain through your head. Closing your eyes to help the hurt subside, you don’t even notice Techno sitting by your side, gently pulling your ankle onto his lap.

A cup of water was in your hand before you could fully register what was going on, but you had drank it all without so much as a second thought.

“Been better,” you finally manage, watching as he unravels a slightly blood-stained bandage from around your foot. “You’ve seen firsthand how bad of positions I can get myself in.”

“Your ankle is the worst you’ve done, everythin’ else will heal just fine,” Techno murmurs. You noted how calm and collected he was. Like how he always was.

You knew he knew how you got in situations you were unfamiliar with – you were skittish, panicked, like a deer in headlights. So he had to tread carefully, not wanting to scare you off (Gods knew he was good at that).

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you chuckle, trying to ignore the burning in your chest. “Thank you for helping me, even after… uh- everything.”

You don’t need to see him stiffen, you could literally sense how he unconsciously sits straighter, holding your ankle a little bit tighter than before. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna.”

“I don’t – at least not now,” you whisper, swallowing the lump building in your throat.

“Alright,” he softly agrees, but is still tensed up as if you would attack at any moment – and you both know you have every right to.

But that wasn’t you – you weren’t a fighter like he was, and you both knew it.

Slowly, he unwraps the bandage on your ankle, letting you assess the damage for yourself. He seems almost zoned out as you look at the brilliant purples and greens that taint your skin, an ugly bruise dark and daunting.

“And my shoulder?”

“Just dislocated. Nothin’ a healin’ potion can’t fix.” The monotony in his voice is one you are all too familiar with.

You hum in agreeance, fingers on autopilot as they trace where a scar should be on your thigh from that skeleton’s arrow. There’s nothing there – no marks, no dents, no lumps – no trace of any injury in the first place apart from the bloodied tear in your pants.

“You always had the best stuff, didn’t you?” you snicker a little, letting yourself relax slightly.

If he wanted you dead, you would be by now – he wouldn’t have gone through all of this trouble to keep you alive if that was the opposite of what he wished. He wouldn’t have wasted so many precious resources to keep your heart beating if it wasn’t in his best interest.

Ignoring the dull ache moving caused, you ran your hands through your knotted and muddy hair, realising how dirty you must look.

The hybrid had to have read your mind, pointing lazily to a closed door. “Bathroom’s in there, use whatever you need. I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

Limping over, you barely make it to the door before collapsing onto the side of the bathtub, the overwhelming pain shooting up your calf making your head spin in many different directions. Black dots violently painted your sight, bile slowly creeping up your throat. You push it away, not wanting to cause a scene.

Technoblade walks in, holding a pair of clean pants and a shirt. “Will you be alright to do it by yourself?” he asks, clearly wary of your ankle.

You give a curt nod, taking a deep breath through your nose.

He huffs, “Yell if you need anythin’, yeah?”

Closing the door behind him, you are left to peel the bloodied and snow-soaked clothes off your sore body, ditching them to lie forgotten on the floor. Your whole body was littered with scars, marks and bruises – some new, red and healing, others older, faded but still visible.

You couldn’t help but stare as you always did prompted with a mirror at the scar running from between your shoulder blades all the way down to the small of your back. It was a scar that never fully healed, physically and emotionally. The memory of how you got it made you want to vomit, especially since you were in his presence again.

The tub filled quicker than you had anticipated, and you wasted no time dipping into the warmth the water in the bath provided.

Almost instantly the water became a murky, rusty colour, yet it felt amazing as you scrubbed off the built-up grime off your arms and legs. You could feel the soreness in your muscles soften as it melted away with the heat. After a while of gently running your fingers through your hair, the tangles and dirt clumps are out, and the water ran cold.

Reluctantly stepping out, you dried yourself off with the first towel you could grab, shivering at the new lack of warmth. You weren’t overly excited at the prompt of wearing his clothes, but as of right now you didn’t have much of a choice.

Because of his sheer size, Technoblade’s clothes were way oversized on you, but you compromised with what you had. The pants barely stayed on your hips and were too long at the foot so you had to roll them up. The shirt came down past your thighs, sleeves much longer than your arms were.

Pure exhaustion clouded your vision, having to blink away the stars dancing across your eye line. Dizzy, you took multiple deep breaths to attempt to steady yourself, gripping the doorknob as if it was the source of all your problems.

You distracted yourself by thinking – thinking about leaving, going home, fixing yourself up there and never leaving again. Thinking about the closure you could finally get, the explanation you had dreamt of for many sleepless nights-

No.

You were going to go home, and never see this man again, just like you had planned in the first place.

Opening the bathroom door, you hardly manage to fight the wave of nausea that washes over you, and by some miracle, you had made it back to the couch you were on before.

Technoblade sat idly at his desk, trying his best to calm the voices – the same voices who screamed for blood, blood, blood at the slightest mention of your name. He made his hands work so he wouldn’t have to think, praying the tedium and repetition of it would quieten them down, at least for a moment so he could attempt to concentrate.

Your mask lay partially fixed between his fingers, the least he could do to try and rekindle what once was.

He sensed your presence immediately, turning to make sure you were okay. He watched your eyes flicker from his to your mask back to his, but ask no question.

Technoblade was the one to break the silence. “When was the last time you ate-?”

You immediately cut in, “I’m not staying.”

He ignores you. “Now would be a good time for food, and maybe another potion.”

You watch him stand and make his way to a cupboard, pull out a full glass bottle and make a piece of buttered toast.

He first hands you the brew of rich pinks and reds, waiting patiently as you waft the potion to ensure there is no foul play. It tastes of melons and light, yet recovery and safety. A soft sigh involuntarily escapes you as you relax into the warmth spreading through every part of you.

The toast finds its way into your hands and down your throat before you can really process anything, still too caught up in the soft exhilaration rush to think about things too hard.

“It’s late,” Techno finally murmurs, “and a snowstorm is on the way. Look, I’m not gonna make you stay, but I would strongly advise sleepin’ the night off and dealing with everythin’ when you wake up.”

There’s only one thing playing on repeat in your mind.

Two, if you count how pretty he looks in this lighting.

“Why’d you do it?” You whisper it with so much heartache, Technoblade can almost, almost feel it radiating off of you. “Why did you…why…”

“Go to sleep.” It’s quiet, barely there, but it does the job.

The piglin watches as you drift into a restless slumber, silently arguing with the voices about something he had no control over.

Sleep and you had a very delicate, fickle relationship – and yet tonight she decided to hold you dear and close, allowing you a long, overdue nights rest that was very much needed. If she was feeling up to it, she may even have given you a dream.

Or possibly show that dreaded nightmare you face every time you close your eyes.

Blood for the Blood God.

TAGLIST;

@raes-gay @howtobeamoth

[rayofsunas]

s/o has freshly shaved legs. [2]

A/n: requested by anon, teehee. thank you!! also, not genshin related, but I just saw levi in the new season and whew, he could STILL get it if he asked :) also, to my readers out there, when I bring up “shoulder rides”, I know some some people may not feel comfortable with that (which is okay!), I didn’t type that to not include everyone, that’s why I wrote “he’s going to give you shoulder rides if you feel comfortable.” key word is comfortable, you guys can imagine this scene or not, it’s intended to not exclude anyone, despite size, etc. I only bring this up because I know a lot of readers may feel left out, but by insinuating comfortable, you’re free to imagine this or not! I hope I made sense/wasn’t rude <3 ;-; happy reading!!

Summary: s/o has freshly shaved legs.

Parings: Diluc/Reader, Xiao/Reader, Childe/Reader (all fem reader)

Warnings: swearing, nsfw themes implied, fluff?, crack

Word count: 1.5k

Diluc

Diluc is a pure GENTLEMAN, so he feels very guilty ogling at your legs

he’s drawn in because of how smooth and buttery (probably some lotion or oil he assumed) they look

eventually, after becoming embarrassed for staring, he’ll find the will to stop

after all, he’s a GENTLEMAN

but that doesn’t mean the thought of your legs leaves his mind, you’re dead fucking wrong

he can’t stop thinking about how soft they looked

if only he could reach out and touch you, just once, just for a second

goodness, he hates the way he feels and surprisingly, when Kaeya stops by the winery for his daily drink, diluc may or may not confide in his friend, brother, 

poor diluc, he’s too respectable and truly thinks it’s WRONG

“why can’t I stop staring at her legs?” he will mutter more to himself. “I feel disgusting.”

“well, she’s hot for one-”

poor Diluc, Kaeya is NO help, he only wants to flirt with you

Kaeya will continue to apologize and make cocky comments, but in the end he reassures it’s natural for lovers to feel this way

poor Diluc part 2

let's just say when he returns late in the dead of the night he refuses to even look at you

he’s so disturbed, poor boy, you’re probably his first s/o and he feels dirty for thinking lewdly about you from just seeing your thighs

he dips to your room so fast, he just wants to sleep it off

You were shocked, to say the least when he didn’t give you his usual hug and kiss on your cheek. Maybe he had a long day? That’s usually always the reason. But even then, before he retired for bed, he made sure to show some kind of affection. 

“Diluc, sweetheart, where are you going?” You called after him, ignoring how the servants kept trying to grab his jacket and hang it on one of the coat racks; he was having none of it.

“Bed.”

“Oh okay, wait, we can walk up together-” He was gone from sight. You sighed in annoyance, you disliked when he became distant. Nonetheless, you dismissed the three servants for the night and began traveling to your room.

Eventually, you arrived in your bedroom to find Diluc laying on the bed, clothes from today still on, as well as his boots. You clicked your tongue. Did he have to wear his boots in your bed? 

“Not even your boots are off?” You had said, shuffling around the bed to tug your lover's shoes off. He heard you grunt, seemingly having trouble with the simple task. 

In the meantime, he had taken notice of how you had shrugged off your robe and it was somewhere else in the room, leaving you only in a simple cotton nightgown. It wasn’t revealing at all, simple and classy how he liked it, but god damn it your legs were exposed.

A simple nightgown, that’s all it was, but why couldn’t it reach your ankles? No-he should not have such standards for you, especially when you’re comfortable. Why did he have to be so lewd...

“Was today a hard day? I didn’t see you after you left the winery earlier... Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He huffed, you mocked him, sitting next to him on the bed, eyeing him carefully. You shifted and although it wasn’t meant to reveal any more skin, the movement had... 

“I’m not a very good mind reader, so you’re going to have to tell me if somethings wrong-”

“Please don’t sit like that...”

“Like what? This is a normal sitting position.”

“Yes but...” He’d huffed again. You knew Diluc well enough to know that he wouldn’t say anything else, it seemed he was already having trouble enough.

“Are you being a horndog?” 

“A what- I’m sorry who are you?” He teased, though utterly confused. “You’ve been hanging out with Aether too much.”

“It’s okay, I saw you staring earlier. I don’t mind.”

poor Diluc

Diluc.exe has stopped working

he can’t believe he was stupid enough to stare AND get caught doing so

you’ll simply just respond by saying, “It’s okay, Diluc. I don’t mind, it makes me feel attractive. At least I’m doing something right.”

lol, it doesn’t matter though, he’s a blushing mess 

all he can think is that he’s better than kaeya, he has standards for himself, staring at a woman's thighs is NOT respectable

even if you’re his fiancee

Xiao

says he doesn’t care when you show him how smooth your legs are

ARGUES and SASSES you when you say you know he’s entranced 

he continues to say no

well guess what, he’s a stone-cold liar

he’ll probably stare once or twice, but otherwise won’t let you distract him

instead, he’ll touch your legs in private (as long as it’s okay with you)

he claims he doesn’t care, but he enjoys how soft they are

like wow

never in his life did he think someone could be so soft

all he wants to do is touch your legs, but sadly he has his duties

I think he’d be the type to touch your calves when in bed (just laying, pls no sexy times)

like when you’re both getting ready for bed, he’ll guide your leg to lay over his waist so it’s sorta hooked around him, and he’ll just rub your calves pls

he likes giving you a massage, it's his way of showing physical affection

and although it does lull you to sleep, the gesture is also comforting for him too

he loves your soft legs

pls don’t ever stop shaving as long as you’re comfortable (he loves you with shaved legs or not)

he may or may not become a little baby if he can’t touch your soft legs

like he’s not gonna shed tears

but, he’s gonna be BITTER AF

SALTY, is the right word

You just wanted to get up to use the bathroom, hell you were gonna pee your pants. But Xiao would not let go. Unfortunately, he’s a light sleeper, so he felt you shifting in the bed when you went to get up. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispered. 

“I have to pee, Xiao.” You said, guiding his prying hands away from your leg. 

“Your legs, soft. Please sleep,” He muttered incoherently, smoothing a calloused palm over your thigh. 

You frowned at the black and teal haired man. “I’m legit going to pee myself if you don’t let go.”

He didn’t answer. In conclusion, he’d fallen back asleep.

Childe

you knew better than to wear skirts, dresses; anything that revealed your legs

or else you’d be the subject of your boyfriend’s comments and staring

this was your own doing, childe thought, your fault

when he’s caught staring by you or anyone, he doesn’t care

as long as you’re comfortable, he doesn’t care that he stares at your legs

some of the elders around Liyue Harbor will scold him for his rudeness, calling him inappropriate

they dislike him so much, not all, but a good handful

but he DOES NOT CARE 

as long as you’re comfortable, he’ll continue to stare as long as he’d like

yes, even if he’s a perverted horndog, he’s still a respectable perverted horndog, he’s going to make sure you’re okay with everything he does/says

pls, he’s going to give you shoulder rides if you feel comfortable, just to nuzzle his cheeks into your inner thighs

and he’ll run his hands over smooth knees

he LIVES for your smooth legs, also just wanna say he doesn’t mind if you haven’t shaved your legs either, you’re gorgeous either way 

he’s the ultimate horndog and does not try to hide it, like Diluc and Xiao

he’s like Kaeya, but let’s be real he’s not going to try and fit every flirtatious comment into EVERY sentence like him

he’s more of a physical guy ;)

he’s going to leave lingering touches on your legs, pinch them teasingly, do whatever as long as he gets to touch them

just gonna say this, but kisses on smooth thighs? muah, he does this and has zero shame

not even during sexy times, he’ll do it if he’s laying his head on your legs and they happen to be exposed

he does not care, he can do whatever he wants, this is his way of showing his affection towards you

“You’re going to suffocate! Get your head out from between my thighs,” You scolded the orange-haired man. He chuckled, giving you very nonchalant vibes.

It was getting harder and harder to ignore the passersby’s stares, why did they have to be so nosy? Well... this wasn’t necessarily something everyone wanted to see, even if it was entirely innocent, it did look highly inappropriate. 

“Plus we’re in public, Childe!” You noted. 

“Please, who cares!” He taunted, nuzzling his head even further. Your face flushed hot. 

“Your legs are soft.”

“Yes, but do you have to do it like that? This looks wrong-”

As I said, he does not care!!

2.4.21, rayofsunas

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Two of Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 4,065

Notes: Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

‘Oh my god…he asked me on a date’ was all you heard from outside the guestroom when you got changed into your clothes.

‘Who? Jeremy?’ you asked, poking your head into the hallway at the same time Cillian did while Denise was jumping up and down in excitement like a young schoolgirl. She had been interested in Jeremy for about six months and, finally, things began to develop.

‘Yes Jeremy. He wants to go to the movies tonight but I told him that you are visiting so…’ Denise said with excitement, causing Cillian to roll his eyes while you cheered her on with excitement.

‘You should still go. I will be fine here on my own’ you said while Cillian shook his head in disapproval.

‘No, you shouldn’t’ he then joked and Denise sighed immediately.

‘Dad, stop listening to our conversations, please…’ Denise said, but Cillian simply began to laugh and told her to enjoy herself and be safe.

After all, Denise was almost 22 and he couldn’t really control what she was doing. Nonetheless, he was concerned and reminded her to call him or her brother in case she runs into trouble.

‘Do you think I should?’ Denise asked and you, of course, reassured her that it was fine. She should cease this opportunity to get to know him better and you decided to spend the day at the local mall to buy her an outfit for the occasion.

***

After the outfit had been sorted, you dragged your friend to the lingerie store which is where you decided to treat yourself to some sexy underwear as well.

‘What do you think?’ you asked, featuring a black lacey lingerie set with matching suspenders.

‘Whoa Y/N, that’s hot. You should get it for, you know, whenever you might get the chance to wear it’ Denise teased before asking you again about one of the guys at your university in whom you were interested in.

‘He is married, so I am not stupid enough to pursue it’ you explained, causing Denise to cringe.

‘Jesus, how old is he?’ she asked, but you weren’t so sure.

‘Late thirties, I think. I am not sure. He works as a lecturer in a different department’ you explained and Denise couldn’t help but shake her head and tell you to look at men around your own age.

The truth was, men your age didn’t interest you. You had been with two men before, both in their early twenties and neither of them were able to satisfy you.

***

Later that evening, after your friend Denise had left the house in order to attend her date with Jeremy, you took the time to talk to her father Cillian in the living room.

‘She's been talking about this Jeremy for a while. I think they're a thing but she won't tell me’ Cillian shrugged with a slight chuckle, hoping that you would reveal more to him.

‘Listen, I am Denise’s friend, I am not going to tell you anything she doesn’t want me to tell you’ you laughed, knowing exactly what he was doing, using his charm to source information.

‘That’s fair…it was worth a try though, right?’ Cillian chuckled and you nodded with a smile.

‘Absolutely’ you grinned awkwardly in response, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Well, I think you are being a very thoughtful friend for not crashing her date’ he then chuckled and, just as he did, Denise’s brother barged out of the front door with a loud ‘see ya’.

‘Uhm, yes…Looks like it’s just us huh?’ you said somewhat nervously and Cillian nodded reluctantly while you looked at his lips and back up to his eyes and then back down.

The way you looked at him threw Cillian off and he began to stammer when responding to your observation.

‘Yes, uhm listen, just make yourself feel at home. I am going to…’ Cillian said but, just before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him.

‘Cillian’ you said somewhat abruptly after you licked your lips, which is when you realised that he was going to say something else.

‘Yes Y/N?’ he inhaled, closing his eyes as he turned his head to the side. It took every muscle in his body to keep a safe distance from you.

‘No sorry…you were saying something…go on’ you stammered.

‘No, it’s alright, you first’ he responded and, just as he did, you grabbed Cillian’s hand which was clenched in frustration at his side and his eyes jolted open and his attention snapped back to you just as he had worked up the ability to turn away.

‘I wasn’t being a thoughtful friend for not crashing Denise’s date. In fact, I was being selfish’ you explained as you closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around the back of Cillian’s neck.

‘Selfish in what way?’ he asked and, just as he did, you leaned towards him and pressed your lips onto his, catching him by surprise.

‘Y/N, I don’t think that is a good idea’ Cillian said, immediately breaking the kiss and stepping away from you.

‘I am twice your age Y/N. I could be your father for god’s sake’ he then huffed out but, despite his words of discouragement, what had developed in between his legs was rather encouraging.

‘I know and I am fairly sure that I am not the only twenty something year old out there who is attracted to you’ you chuckled before continuing on. ‘But, if you aren’t attracted to me then that’s totally fine and I am sorry for having crossed a line’ you said, biting your lip nervously as you began to unbutton your summer dress, slowly revealing the lingerie you had bought earlier that day.

‘Let me get this straight Y/N. You stayed here to seduce me?’ Cillian gulped while watching you undress eagerly.

‘Yes, pretty much’ you chuckled. ‘I’ve been fantasising about this for years’ you told him before you pulled him closer by his neck.

‘I want you to sleep with me’ you whispered, running your hand over his crotch and it was becoming way too difficult for Cillian to control himself.  

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian sighed as his hands automatically fanned out over your hips and melded them together at the core. Your stomachs pressed to one another and your breathing increased with the sudden flash of heat radiating from both of your bodies.

Giving into his desires, Cillian unleashed a hard kiss on your soft lips and you were knocked off balance somewhat but he was holding you in place by your hips just above where you were propped against the back of the couch.

Your eyebrows raised unintentionally by the sudden shift in speed and you fired back licking his lips in request that he part them.

He complied and you slid your tongue just far enough to touch his and flicked it up and down quickly before pulling back. Cillian took a deep breath as he followed your tongue back into your mouth.

You lifted onto your toes to better reach Cillian’s lips and, with your movement, you felt his grip tighten on your hips.

Cillian then pulled himself further into your core which pushed you further onto the back of the couch. Cillian was trying to stay calm and you loved that and hated it at the same time. You couldn't help but want to speed him up as you could already feel his racing heart pounding against his rib cage and vibrating through your chest.

Cillian’s soft tongue retreated after licking your pink quivering lips. You shivered as you felt his fingertips squeeze tighter on your hips. You sucked his bottom lip between yours and grazed your teeth as deep as they would naturally go. You felt his jaw clench. In fact, you felt every muscle in his body tensing and then tensing more.

Your feet had been dangling but now your ankles were locked behind his knees. You didn't remember consciously placing them there but, then again, you didn't remember consciously doing anything since the moment you kissed him.

Your hand pulled him by the nape of his neck further into your mouth and he groaned accidentally then rolled his eyes at his uncontrolled noise.

Cillian then leaned you backwards, your entire weight and his depended on his feet being grounded. You tied your ankles tighter around the back of his knees and held your breath.

Eventually, Cillian moved his hands from your hips down your thigh using as much pressure as he could manage before he spread his fingers out as he journeyed just as ferociously back up.

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes and using your sense of touch to the full while inhaling Cillian’s scent. He looked up, seeing your soft closed eyes and plump lips in ecstasy and his view trailed down your neck and between your breasts. His hands slid gentle and firm around your back and he gripped the small of your back with powerful fingertips.

He felt you shiver and he let his tongue slid up from the centre of your collar bone to the centre of your throat where he felt you suddenly gulp.

‘Are you sure that this is what you want Y/N?’ he asked, pausing momentarily.

‘Yes Mr Murphy…’ you stammered, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘Cillian I mean’ you giggled while taking a moment to let your summer dress drop to the floor.

‘Jesus fucking Christ’ he said as he saw you standing there in your new sexy lingerie and you couldn’t help but smirk.

‘This is all yours. I want you to fuck me’ you said and, without losing any time, Cillian kissed along your neck, over and over.

‘Trust me, I will’ he smirked as he nibbled on your neck.

He noticed that every time he breathed in, you did also. And every time he exhaled, you exhaled.

Eventually, he caught your lips with his again as his hands firmly caressed up her back and retreated down, a little further than before.

Cillian felt your eyes on him. Your breath was sweet on his lips, it made him want to breathe deeper. It seemed impossible for either of you to get any closer than you were and he felt a desire for you which he hadn’t felt for any woman in years.

You whispered his name which sent shivers down his spine. He signalled his hand to unintentionally hold you tighter while you flexed your fingers on his shoulders, digging your nails past his shirt.

Cillian looked down at your lips as they quivered your whispers. He placed his lips on yours again, not pressing but rather barely touching them.

‘Y/N’ Cillian whispered and his word was a mood and name and definition all wrapped in one. It was the answer to your unasked question. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Cillian flexed his fingers into your thighs and lifted you up from the couch. You latched on, tightening your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He waited there, kissing you long and hard before he could even think of where to put you, if he ever wanted to put you down.

You smiled on his lips, trailing kisses to his ear and whispered ‘come with me’.

You let your fingers unzip themselves from behind his neck and your torso flung back onto the couch. You now hung up-side-down, legs still latched onto his waist. You smiled up at him and he let his fingers roam your entire body for a moment.

Both his hands pressed firmly as he explored and he started at your thighs and pressed into your tight belly. He completely encased your rib cage with his large hands before lightening his touch as he began to caress your breasts.

‘Oh god, please don’t stop’ you moaned as, finally, Cillian hoovered over you and you were laying under him. You loosened your legs and lengthened your body, your arms gripping the armrest to one end of the couch and your toes reaching for the other arm rest.

Cillian made it first priority to grab your face with both hands and hold you in the longest, hottest kiss he knew you would ever have. He kissed down your neck and you used your strength in your arms and legs to press yourself up into his mouth as he unclasped the front of your bra and let his tongue flick over your nipple.

It was too much for you to try and keep your hands from his body and you fought to keep your hands from trembling at the least as you streamed your fingers through his hair and made a request by tugging him further into your breast. He complied willingly, for a moment but was soon lost over your long flat stomach that he could feel quiver under his tongue.

He adored how nervous you were and how much you wanted it all at the same time.

‘Relax Y/N. We can stop whenever you want’ Cillian said reassuringly but stopping was the last thing you wanted him to do.

‘Don’t stop, it feels good’ you huffed out as you could barely focus your eyes as you looked down at him just as his hands melted into your panties and lifted you up by the ass in order to take them off.

His face was so close to your aching core and you gave up trying to watch him when your vision blurred from the throbbing heat wave through your body.

When Cillian finally pulled down your lace panties you heard a high pitched squeal that, a moment later, you realised came from your clenched teeth.

‘Take me Cillian, please’ you repeated at this moment and Cillian hesitated as long as he could, almost saying something but not being able to express the thought.

You could see that he was holding back. He was still reluctant and it wasn’t until you arched your back suggestively that he gave into you.

The width of his shoulders pushed your knees apart, opening you wide for him as he kissed you just above your core, causing you to moan.  

You shuddered at his hot breath against your pussy and soon felt his fingers join in, running gently over your soaking mound.  

Then, finally, you shouted, a gasp and yell all wrapped up together, as his wet tongue lapped at you, long steady strokes over your entire wetness while he held your pussy with two of his fingers.

It felt sensational and it was difficult for you to keep quiet. Luckily, both of Cillian’s children were out and you could be as loud as you wanted to be.

‘Cillian, oh god’ you moaned as his tongue circled around your clit, flicking at it, then returned lower to slide inside you as far as he could go, then back up again to your clit.

Your hips involuntarily started pushing up against him and it wasn’t long until the feeling of him pleasing you like this became too much.

‘Don’t stop’ you moaned as he used his hands to spread you open even wider while circling your clit.

You bucked, writhing against him as his tongue ran over your clit.

As his tongue kept on at you, you felt yourself climbing and climbing and climbing towards an unfamiliar feeling. It was intense and was unlike anything else you had ever felt before. You knew what it was, but yet, you didn’t expect it. Not so quick and not by him just using his tongue and fingers.

When he finally sucked your clit into his mouth, you were sent over the edge. ‘Oh god Cillian, fuck’ you moaned as your orgasm washed over you and your legs began to quiver as he continued to suck and lick until you slowly calmed down.

‘That was quick’ Cillian chuckled and you couldn’t help but laugh and cry all at the same time.

‘Oh Jesus…that…I didn’t…I didn’t expect that’ you huffed out, causing Cillian to laugh and look at you with some confusion.

‘What did you expect?’ he wondered as he pulled his t-shirt over his head in readiness for what was to come yet.

His body was simply perfect and you couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment.

‘I just didn’t think that I could come like this’ you eventually whispered and, without responding to your comment, Cillian moved up and kissed your lips hard and you took it with a moan as you let your fingers rake down his long torso and undid his jeans in one fast motion that was done before he knew what happened.

‘I want to feel you inside me’ you whispered into his lips and he painfully sighed and kissed you again, both his arms held him above you on either side of your waist. Your hands worked his jeans and briefs down just enough for you to release his tremendously hard cock and you pulled him directly over her.

Cillian looked down into your face that radiated heat and hunger. You bit your lip as you let one of your arms free and clutched the back of Cillian’s neck and engulfed yourself in his mouth again. Just as your tongue glided over his, h couldn’t hold back any longer and he drove his hard cock into you.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned. You were so wet he barely had to push himself into you although your tightness made both of you wince in pleasure.

‘Fuck you are so tight’ Cillian groaned before he bit down on his lip as he ventured deeper into you. He shut his eyes momentarily to manage to catch his heart before it pounded out of his chest.

You inhaled sharply and, just as you did, those last few inches of Cillian’s hard cock were completely enveloped in you. You clutched your ankles behind his and gripped his back with your short, unmanicured nails.

The ecstasy came in quick hot waves that they were thrown into together every time Cillian pumped into you or you thrusted up toward him.

Cillian thrusted into you over and over again and you began to moan louder than before. You experienced an uncontrollable urge to howl that you could barely hold back and Cillian shut his eyes and gripped you as tightly as he could manage.

You both used every muscle in your bodies to create one living, writhing creature rather than two. Eventually, you cried out Cillian’s name and he took you with the deepest most passionate kiss he ever possessed as you spiralled into a lazy heap.

You fucked for what appeared like hours and you were so close to your release and so was Cillian.

It wasn’t long until Cillian could feel your walls tightening around him as your moans were getting louder and your breathing became laboured.

‘Don’t come yet’ you huffed out in between moans, which took Cillian by surprise.

But he didn’t argue and nodded, complying with your request.

Nonetheless, he could tell that you were close and increased his speed and moved one of his hands between your legs, rubbing your clit.

‘Oh god!’ you shouted, loosing control as yet another orgasm washed over you.

He continued to thrust into you until you came down from your high, then slowing down his thrusts until he pulled out of you.

‘Stay there’ you said as you turned around and let your body slide off the lounge and kneeling right in front of him.

After you got comfortable enough, you guided his hard and wet cock into your mouth.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian moaned as he watched take him in all the way into the back of your throat.

You moved your tongue up and down his hard shaft firmly before running circles over his tip and continued these movements for while.

Cillian began to struggle to contain himself. Watching you suck his cock like this was too much for him.

You knew he was getting close as his cock began pulsating and you could tell that he was holding back.

‘I want to taste you, all of you’ you said in between your movements and that was all he needed to hear.

Within moments, you could feel one of his hands curling up in your hair, with no force but rather for support.

His breathing was becoming laboured and his head fell back and his eyes closed as, with one loud moan, he filled your mouth with rope after rope of his warm cum.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he groaned as his entire body was pulsating and you continued to lick him clean until he slowly came down from his high.

‘Hmm, I always wanted to do this’ you said with a smirk after swallowing his load.

‘Jesus Y/N’ he gasped and you couldn’t help but giggle slightly before climbing onto the couch with him which is when he pulled you in for another passionate kiss.

‘I am hungry, what about you?’ Cillian then asked all of a sudden, realising what had just happened between you. It was clear to him that, sleeping with you was a mistake but, for some reason unknown to him, all sense of reasonable and proper thought went through the window when you began to undress right there in front of him.

‘Me too’ you said as you watched Cillian pull up his briefs and jeans before he disappeared to order some pizza.

***

‘I suppose we aren’t going to mention this again, right?’ you asked somewhat nervously as you were both dressed and waited for your pizzas.

‘No one can know about this Y/N. I shouldn’t have…’ Cillian said somewhat upset and, before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him.

‘We…we shouldn’t have’ you chuckled but Cillian felt that, being substantially older than you, he was the one to blame.

‘I shouldn’t have given into you’ he said.

‘Did you enjoy it at least?’ you wondered.

‘I enjoyed it a lot, which makes it even worse’ he told you before asking you the same question.

‘I did, but I am sure you were able to tell’ you chuckled.

‘I was’ Cillian chuckled before informing you that he was glad that his neighbours were on a cruise.

‘Well, it was the best sex I’ve ever had so, even if this was a one of thing, I am glad I took my chances’ you then said which is when the doorbell rang and you knew that your pizzas had arrived.

***

Not long after you ate, you heard the front door barge open and you were a little surprised when you saw Denise walking through it.

‘I take your date didn’t go well?’ you asked, offering her the last two pieces of pizza which she gladly accepted while Cillian went into the kitchen to get Denise a glass of water.

‘I have decided that he is an asshole’ Denise chuckled and, to your surprise, she didn’t appear to be to upset.

‘Want to tell me about it?’ you asked just as Cillian returned from the kitchen but Denise shook her head.

‘Not tonight and not in front of my dad’ Denise laughed and Cillian was quick to excuse himself, giving the two of you some privacy.

‘So how was your evening? I see that dad ordered you some pizza from my favourite pizzeria’ Denise said, wondering what you had been doing.

‘Uhm…yeah…good. The pizza was nice’ you barely managed to stammer.

‘What did you do?’ she then asked.

‘Uhm…we…uhm…ate pizza and we watched a movie’ you quickly blurted out after not being able to think of something else as you glanced at the two empty wine glasses in front of you.

‘You watched a movie, ate some pizza and drank some wine…with my dad? Weirdo’ Denise then chuckled and you simply shrug your shoulders.

‘Yeah, your dad is nice, so why not?’ you huffed out somewhat embarrassed.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[storiesforallfandoms]

inspiration ~ dominic fike

word count: 1486

request?: yes!

“hey luv can you do a dominic fike smut!! it’s fine if you can’t but yeh”

description: in which she’s having trouble writing her verse for their song so he decides to give her some inspiration

pairing: dominic fike x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two)

I groaned as I balled up yet another sheet of paper I was trying to write on and threw it into the nearly overflowing trash bin. Dominic looked up at me, amusement on his face. “Any luck, hun?”

“Why does the label want a stupid sex song from us?” I asked. “I can write music about literally anything, but I can’t write a song about being intimate with my own fucking boyfriend.”

I knew the answer to that. It was because Dominic and I were dating and had yet to do a song together. Instead of another sickly sweet love song performed by two artists that were dating, the label wanted a steamy song from the two of us. After all, sex sells.

Except for me it doesn’t. I had never written an intimate song before. It just wasn’t my style; I didn’t feel comfortable writing about my personal, intimate moments. Dominic had no problem, though. He wrote his verse, and had an idea for the chorus, in roughly 10 minutes flat.

“Is our sex life that boring?” Dominic teased.

I shot him a playful look before throwing my pen at him. He chuckled as he caught it, effortlessly. “You know it’s far from boring. I just don’t like sharing those aspects of my personal life. I can’t write a song about our private sex life knowing that millions of people are going to hear it.”

I sighed and put my head down on the soundboard in front of me, where I had been desperately trying to write my verse for the past hour and a half. I was starting to admit defeat and give up on this whole song.

“What did you write about?” I asked, my voice mostly muffled.

“About you giving me head.”

My head shot up so fast as I felt my face beginning to heat up. Dominic laughed at the look on my face - which definitely had to be a sight for him to see at that moment.

“I - I - ” I stuttered, trying to find a way to respond to that.

Dominic smirked as he reached for his own songwriting notebook and passed it to me. I read through the verse he had already written, finding it full of innuendos and sweet words to describe how “heavenly” it felt when I gave him head.

I had no idea he felt this strongly about our oral sex. I mean, I knew I made him feel good. He made sure to vocalize that every time I had my lips wrapped around him, but I didn’t know he loved it so much that it was easy for him to write an entire verse about me giving him head. Just reading his verse made my panties become a bit more wet.

I crossed my legs in an attempt to subdue the ache between my legs, trying not to be so obvious. It was no use, though, as Dominic was giving me a knowing look before his eyes glanced down at my crossed legs.

“Why don’t I give you some inspiration for your verse, then?” he asked.

My eyes widened as his hand moved to push my legs apart. “Here? We can’t. What if someone catches us?”

“We have the studio booked out for another hour, we won’t be caught,” he assured me.

His hands made their way up my legs as he began leaning towards me. His lips were just inches from mine as his fingers looped around the belt loops of my jeans. While my mind was telling me this was a bad idea, and anyone could possibly catch us, my body was aching to see exactly how Dominic was going to give me this “inspiration” he was promising.

I giggled as he pulled me to stand and immediately started kissing my neck. One of his hands found its way between us, unbuttoning my jeans effortlessly before dipping below the waistband. I gasped as his fingers pressed against my clit, feeling myself becoming wetter by the second.

My head lulled back as I moaned from his touch, which Dominic took advantage of as he began to kiss over more of my neck. He began to rub my clit, slow at first but then began to speed up just a little. He pressed his fingers hard against my clit, send shivers of pleasure up my spine. I was trembling against him already, and couldn’t help but whine when he pulled his hand away from between us.

In one swift motion, Dominic pulled both my pants and my underwear down so they pooled around my ankles. He pushed me back until I was pressed against the soundboard, then lifted me up so I was sitting on it. He positioned himself between my legs and began to kiss over my thighs painfully slow, dragging it out in order to tease me.

I kept glancing up at the door every now and then, making sure no one was passing by or looking in at us. From where we were positioned, anyone who happened to glance through the window on the door would have a full view of what was happening between us. However, my worries about being caught were immediately forgotten when I felt Dominic’s tongue against my clit.

I ran one hand through his short hair before resting it on the back of his head, holding him in place as he began to lick long strokes up my clit. With the other, I clutched the edge of the soundboard so tightly my knuckles were turning white. I threw my head back and moaned Dominic’s name so loud, although I could care less about anyone hearing us.

His tongue felt like heaven and the pleasure building up inside of me was the best feeling I had ever experienced. I had to stop myself from trying to grind against his tongue, but it was hard when I was so desperate for him to speed up with his lapping.

The tip of his tongue teased my clit a moment before it started to go down further. Dominic pulled my hips out slightly, giving himself more access to my dripping pussy. I gasped as I felt the tip of his tongue against my opening, then cried out when I felt it push past my folds.

“Fuck Dominic!” I moaned in pleasure.

I pulled his head more, which pushed his tongue into me more. My body vibrated as he chuckled against me, sending a new type of pleasure coursing through my body.

I was in pure ecstasy as Dominic started bobbing his head. My legs started shaking, then the trembling continued to the rest of my body. My back arched and I felt the pleasure building up inside of me. I dug my nails into the edge of the soundboard, trying to hold back my orgasm but struggling to do so.

“Are you close, baby?” Dominic asked, looking up at me with those eyes that I loved so much. My brain was so foggy with pleasure that I couldn’t respond. I only managed a nod. He smiled and said, “Cum in my mouth, (Y/N).”

He placed his tongue against me again and began to lick broader strokes against my opening. Unable to hold it back much longer, I threw my head back and screamed in pleasure as I felt my climax rip through me. Dominic took hold of my hips, holding me close to him as I trembled with pleasure.

When he pulled away, I could still see my juices coating his chin. He wiped it off with the sleeve of his shirt as if it were nothing and helped me to stand. I stumbled a little, still trying to regain myself. I reached for his pants, wanting to return the favor, but he caught my wrist before I could.

“I want to return the favor,” I told him.

“You don’t need to return anything. I wanted to make you feel good, that’s enough for me,” he said. He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead before kissing my lips. I could still taste myself on him, which started to turn me on again.

He dipped down to pull my pants and panties back up. I buttoned my jeans and fixed them so it didn’t look quite so obvious what had just happened.

“Was that enough inspiration for you?” he asked, a cheeky grin on his face.

I smiled back at him and kissed him again. “I definitely think so. Although, you may have to give me a little more inspiration later on. Not sure if I’ll be able to complete my verse and my chorus today.”

Dominic’s grin brightened more as I said this. We kissed one last time, then finally managed to pull away from one another so I could go back to my songwriting.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t too hard to write a verse after that.

[discopig]

That other girl (Thomas Shelby x Reader) [Part 2/3]

Okay so I’ve made a few improvements, first one being I won’t be writing at 2 AM after 4 hours of sleep because I read back part one and honestly wanted to shoot myself, I also added paragraph/scene dividers because the first part was very messy and I kept fucking up the tenses! My imagination has been going wild for this fic so I need to calm myself. I don’t intend for this to be a long story, I hope to finish it by the next part. Hope you guys enjoy :))

Part 1 | Part 3

Warnings: implied family abuse, swearing (doesn’t even need to be a warning)

Word Count: 1,452

You stared at the woman at the door, what seemed like millions of thoughts rushing through your mind at once. She was beautiful. Not to say you weren’t beautiful yourself, but insecurity seemed to be the main component of the blood flowing through your veins at the sight of her. She looked like the models you would see at the fashion shows your mother would take you to as a kid, and she made the plain barmaid’s uniform look like the most expensive piece Chanel could offer.

The woman’s eyes darted between you and harry as she spotted the two of you together.

“Thanks for the help” Harry said, taking the glasses from the basket the woman carried them in. As though he forgot something, he quickly turned around after placing them on the counter behind the bar. 

“Grace” he acknowledged the woman, “this is Y/N, your co-barmaid” he said, turning to you.

You were secretly hoping she was just here on delivery for the shop Harry had bought the glasses from, and wished so deeply she wasn’t the barmaid he had mentioned earlier, but alas, she had to be. 

“Oh, it’s very nice to meet you” she smiled extending her hand towards you

“Likewise” you gave her a small smile, taking her hand and shaking it

“Harry’s told me a lot about you, about how you help him around the bar and whatnot, how good you are at dealing with the rowdy customers” You picked up on her Irish accent

"Well, that’s nice to hear. Are you not from Birmingham?” you questioned

“Oh no, I’m not. I only got here about a week ago. I used to work at a bar in Galway, so I got quite lucky to be able to get a job at a bar here” she replied.

Quite lucky I sprained my fuckin’ ankle you mean. You mentally scoffed at her

“That is quite lucky” you laughed

By now Harry had left to sort out the glasses in storage, so you figured you might as well pry for something out of her

“So Harry tells me you’ve been serving the Shelby boys while I’ve been gone, you know they’re trouble?” You asked, staring into her eyes, trying to gauge any sort of reaction you could receive. She seemed unfazed.

“Well, they’ve been quite nice to me, given me lots of tips” 

“Is that so? Who’s been giving you tips?” They never gave you tips, even on the busiest of nights when you were running back and forth serving their requests for beer which seemed to come through ever 10 fucking seconds

“Uh, the tall one” John. Damn him.

“Ah, I see, hopefully it was good money” you ‘beamed’ at her, trying to be friendly 

“Good enough” she laughed back

“So what brings you to Birmingham?” 

“My father passed away and I just needed a change of scenery” she replied, her eyes showed sadness, so you figured her father passing couldn’t be a lie, but a change of scenery in Birmingham? Yeah right. Maybe on some farm surrounded by chickens and mosquitoes, or in some tropical American city, but not in Birmingham. Most people want out, not in, unless they have good reason to favour the latter.

“I’m sorry to hear that” 

“It’s okay, he was quite old anyways, I had expected it at some point” she replied with a half smile, eyes still sad.

You both sat in silence for a moment until you spoke “I’ll be back next week to help out” you looked towards the door, more customers starting to pile in, Harry back from the storage room, rushing to get their orders, and back at Grace “things are starting to get busy, I won’t hold you any longer. It was nice meeting you” you smiled at her, getting up from your seat and heading  out of the Garrison, trudging to the betting shop.

The Shelby family were in the midst of a family meeting, discussing business you honestly didn’t care much about, thoughts racing with how you were going to have Thomas’ head on a stake. 

“That copper, is going to try and bring this family down with every fuckin’ cell in his body” Thomas exclaimed

“What copper?” you asked. Thomas looked at you like you had just asked him if the sun was a rock

“Campbell. We’ve been talking about him this whole meeting Y/N” you could tell he was annoyed, but you didn’t care

“When did he get here? When did this start?” you asked

“Why does that-” Thomas started

“Answer the fucking question Thomas Shelby” you interrupted

“About a week ago, he worked as a copper in Ireland, and has come with his troops to Birmingham to try and ruin all of my fucking plans. Keep up please!” He replied, clearly frustrated.

Ireland?

You knocked on the door to Thomas’ office and waited before you heard a low “Come in”

You walked into his office, Thomas looking down at some papers, and sat down on one of the chairs at his desk

“How are you liking the new barmaid?” You asked, staring him down.

At the mention of the barmaid he looked up at you, a mix of panic and annoyance flashing in his eyes

“She does her job Y/N. What else can I think of her? He replied with a sigh at the end

“Oh I’m sure she does her job well enough for you to be having secret meetings with her” you replied, venom laced in your voice. You were starting to get angry, and him behaving as though he was annoyed by your presence wasn’t making it any easier

“Y/N what are you-” 

“Don’t fucking what me Thomas Shelby! Harry told me all about the lovely interest you’ve taken to her, enough so to meet with her every fucking day! Did you fuck her?! If you did you better tell me because so help me God if I find out from-”

“I did not fucking sleep with her Y/N will you PLEASE calm down?” Thomas yelled, his voice booming through the office

“If you didn’t sleep with her then what did you do?”

“We just talked” he answered, as though everything was normal

“Just talked?! Have you forgotten that you have a girlfriend Thomas, a girlfriend who had a sprained fucking ankle and couldn’t walk, who you could’ve come to any time to just talk?! You think I’m supposed to believe that’s all you did? Why would you just talk to her and not me?!” You were screaming again, your anger reaching a tipping point

“Because she isn’t like you Y/N!” 

You looked at him, visibly confused

“She didn’t grow up with daddy’s loaded bank account in some posh city, she’s genuine, like a breath of fresh fucking air in this place! She gets me, and I get her, and she happened to be there when I needed someone to talk to! Is that so bad?!” You stared at him dumbfounded, not only had he implied that he could not come to you -his girlfriend- when he needed someone to talk to, he also brought up your family and history, knowing damn well the riches your family had, meant nothing to you, constantly overshadowed by the yelling, bruises and loneliness.

The true weight of his words seemed to register with him as regret flashed in his eyes under your dumbfounded, yet angry gaze

“Fuck you Thomas Shelby. Fuck you. She’s working with that fucking copper”

He moved to say something but you quickly interrupted him

“I know you did your stupid background checks, I asked Arthur about it. She’s not from fucking Galway, she never worked in any bars, meaning she lied about everything, and she, your lovely Irish angel shows up at the same time that copper does, and you still willingly walk into her presence every damn day while your girlfriend is alone, to talk?! To fucking talk?!”

Thomas was visibly getting angrier as you accused her of working with Campbell, moving to defend her

“Don’t you think you’re going too far?! I get you’re jealous but you can’t just make shit up!”

You scoffed 

“Polly was right about men only being able to think with their cocks. Even you, the oh so smart Thomas Shelby, are a blind fucking idiot. Fuck you, I never want to see you again, you hear me? You can go talk to that fucking barmaid as much as you want” You spat, leaving his office with a loud slam of his door, catching John’s worried eyes as you stormed out of the shop. Your ankle was radiating with pain, but you ignored it as you stormed home.

Fucking Shelbys.

[fruitcoops]

Hi Eve! Just wondering if you could write a coops smut where one of them wears lingerie? You sort of explored the concept in the Valentines Day smut where Sirius wore thigh highs, but i was maybe thinking a fic where one of them wears a full set. Its all completely up to you!

How about both? Happy smutty Monday, folks! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for smut, subspace/ subdrop

It was Friday, and Remus was learning the glory of stockings on hockey thighs.

It was Thursday, and he began to wonder how to repay his lovely fiancé.

It was Sunday, two weeks after Valentine’s Day, and between flashes of thunder outside and damn near howls of pleasure into their traumatized pillows, Remus was still thinking about the socks.

It was Tuesday, a bye week, and the last piece of his plan clicked into place as Sirius hefted him further over the countertop by the muscle of his thigh with one hand keeping his chest flush to the cool marble.

It was Wednesday, and Remus smiled to himself as Sirius snuggled closer in the darkness of a quiet night in. He ran an absentminded hand through inky curls, relishing the soft puffs of Sirius’ breath on the hollow of his throat while their legs remained comfortably tangled. You have no idea what’s coming, he thought, letting his lips linger on Sirius’ forehead. No idea at all.

It was Sunday, and Remus had spent two minutes hyping himself up in the bathroom mirror. The rustling from their bedroom had stopped long before. “Alright, you can do this,” he murmured, leaning his hands on the edge of the sink. “You look hot. This isn’t weird. He’s gonna lose his fucking mind.”

“Mon loup?”

Anxiety leaped in Remus’ stomach. “One second!” he called back through the closed door. He stared at himself for a moment longer, then sighed. It was a stupid idea—there was no way Sirius would want to see him in something as silly as this. He looked ridiculous, and it wasn’t even worth it; any clothing would be off in a heartbeat anyway. Sirius always preferred skin-to-skin contact.

The lacy edge of the garter belt itched the peak of his hip as he blew out a slow breath. Did Remus still dream about Sirius’ thigh highs over a month later? Yes. Did that guarantee Sirius would have a similar reaction to seeing him in actual lingerie? Not necessarily.

Remus liked guarantees. They were safe. Soothing. Unquestionable.

“Are you alright?” Sirius’ voice floated through the door on a wave of concern.

Fuck it. The bathroom lights caught the silver buckles. It’s now or never. “You can’t laugh, okay?” he warned, closing a hand around the knob.

“I won’t. I have a surprise for you, too.”

That bit of curiosity gave him that last push of courage he needed to open the door and step out of the safety of the bathroom. His pulse skyrocketed, though whether it was from the sudden feeling of absolute exposure or the sight of Sirius waiting on their bed in some sort of sheer, lacy top, Remus couldn’t tell. Sirius stared at him, lips slightly parted. Remus cleared his throat and spread his hands. “Surprise?”

“Oh.”

“You look—you look great,” he managed lamely. There were a million better words to describe the lavender fabric cascading over the planes of Sirius’ chest, but his brain had been replaced by the blush prickling up his neck and face. Going for the basic black garter belt and underwear suddenly seemed subpar instead of classically sexy.

Sirius shifted on his knees and reached for him. “Viens ici.”

“It—” Remus faltered. His chest and legs were bare, save for the satiny clasps holding the garters in place on his thighs. Sirius was just staring, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. It had been a long time since he felt self-conscious around Sirius; every bit of missed embarrassment flooded back at once as he sat on the foot of the bed. “I liked your socks on Valentine’s Day, and I figured—I dunno. This is the surprise, by the way.”

“C’mere.” Sirius’ eyes finally flickered up to his face without a trace of judgement.

“I’m here.”

“Here,” Sirius repeated, tugging him over to straddle his lap with an arm around Remus’ waist. He kissed him, soft and slow but undeniably wanting, before he leaned back. “You look so handsome, mon coeur.”

“Yeah?”

“Ouais.” And, god, if Remus didn’t love the way his voice curled around that word, turning it into a million perfectly lazy syllables.

He rolled the hem of Sirius’ top between his fingers and hummed against his mouth. “This is new.”

“You like it?”

“Mhmm.” It was hard to tear his eyes away from the shadow of muscle beneath the delicate fabric.

Mischief flickered over Sirius’ face. “It’s called a ‘babydoll’. Thought you might get a kick out of that.”

“Babydoll for my baby,” Remus teased, kissing his nose with a playful tug to the lace edges. Sirius’ gaze slipped back down to his lap—no, his legs—and his fingers toyed with the seam of the accompanying underwear. Remus placed a light kiss to the shell of his ear, watching every twitch of his hands. “What do you want?”

“To look at you.” There was nothing but honesty when Sirius glanced back to him. The intensity of it sent a spark up Remus’ spine; he had grown so used to Sirius’ general aura of focus that he had nearly forgotten what it felt like wholly directed on him.

“And…?”

“And nothing. Just to look.” Nervousness flickered across his fine features as he settled back against the headboard and pulled Remus with him. “Just for a minute, and then we can do whatever you—”

Remus silenced him with a kiss, bracketing his waist with his palms. The babydoll was like water under his touch, but Sirius was as solid as ever. “This is for you,” he said when they separated. “You can look for as long as you like.”

Except Sirius didn’t only want to look—he wanted to touch. That fact was made clear within seconds, when the hands smoothing up and down Remus’ thighs in rhythmic motions began dipping beneath the straps of his garter belt and sliding up to his narrow hips, then hooked around the backs of his bent knees. Sirius pressed one palm flat over his abs and Remus shivered, trailing his lips down his neck. He wasn’t aroused in the lightning-fast please please I need you now kind of way, but more of an I’m about to float into space if you don’t keep touching me like a treasure buzz.

“Re, honey,” Sirius murmured. It was only then that Remus realized most of his breaths were coming in short pants instead of kisses. The nickname was one of his favorites, reserved for the times when he was well and truly gone; it was more tender than mon coeur, and worlds more intimate than his own name or even sweetheart. He nipped the edge of Sirius’ jaw and felt him gasp.

Remus licked his lips as he pulled away just enough to speak. “D’you want me to take it off?”

“Never.”

He smiled. “It has to come off if you want to fuck me.”

“Deux pièces.” The arm around his lower back tightened as one hand came to rest on his ass, which was still fully covered by lace-lined black fabric. Remus had opted for the ‘boyshort’ choice, as it looked to be the most likely to prevent slippage.

That, and it had fewer strappy bits. The buckles were hard enough to figure out—adding an accidental wedgie into the mix seemed like a poor idea.

“Yeah, but the important piece can only come off if I take the fun one off first,” Remus explained, snapping one of the ties. Sirius stared at it for a long moment before blinking slowly.

“Are you sure?”

“Giving me puppy eyes isn’t going to flip this inside out, babes,” Remus laughed. “Two seconds.”

“But you’ll keep the fun part on, right?” Sirius slid down to lay next to him while he wrestled with the garter belt, hissing curses each time the buckles pinched his fingers. It was, quite possibly, the least sexy thing he had ever done. That did not seem to deter his fiancé—if anything, watching Remus struggle with black satin strips in the dark while laying flat on his back appeared to be the highlight of Sirius’ day.

The fog in his head cleared a bit as he worked his underwear down his thighs, being careful not to mess with the garters too much. It had taken him five full minutes to get the damn things on in the first place, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to waste another five that could be spent in much more pleasurable ways. “The ‘fun part’—” Remus couldn’t spare a hand to do air quotes, but he hoped Sirius got the gist. “—is a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Nope.”

He paused. “You’re not the one losing a fight to a few scraps of fabric.”

Sirius met his eyes, looking every inch the fallen angel with his hair splayed over the pillow and his lavender whatever-the-hell-glory pooling at his mid-chest. “Do you want me to take it off for you?”

“I thought you wanted the fun part to stay on.”

“Here.” Remus barely managed to kick the underwear off his ankles before Sirius shuffled over to lay between his thighs and attach his mouth just beneath the left garter.

“Oh, fuck me,” Remus huffed, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

“Gimme a minute,” Sirius said into his skin while he licked a stripe up to the first buckle and carefully pulled it down to hook into its proper place. Remus arched his back, only to be pushed down a moment later as Sirius electrified patches of skin he didn’t even know he had. Teeth slipped along the curve of his muscle and nibbled just above the back of his knee; Remus clenched his hands in the sheets with a shuddering inhale and tried his best to keep his wits about him.

By the time Sirius moved on to his other thigh, he was a goner. He could practically feel his pulse through his dick and the fog had returned with a vengeance, blurring the world at the edges while he let go of the tension in his back. How could he possibly be stressed when Sirius was saying such pretty things? The warmth of lips on his thighs disappeared and he stretched his arms above his head, relishing in his own contentment and Sirius’ light laugh. “You’re lovely,” he mumbled. Really, it was the only appropriate word for the occasion.

There was a rustling sound next to him, but Remus didn’t bother paying attention to what it was—Sirius’ weight all around him was more than enough to occupy—

“Oh.” His eyes flashed open as a lube-slick finger pushed into him to the first knuckle. “Oh.”

“Were you listening?” Sirius sounded faintly amused. Remus smiled lazily; he must have missed a joke (or a warning) somewhere in the tumble of words from that lovely pout. He rocked his hips onto Sirius’ finger, stretching one leg out as the other remained bent and tilted away. It was only kept in place by Sirius’ free hand, but even the idea of being held sent a tingling feeling all the way to his toes.

“How many?” Remus asked, looping his arms under Sirius’ to pull him closer. He needed warmth, and the smooth familiarity of Sirius’s chest against his own. He needed the encompassing feeling of being covered, which had yet to fade, no matter how much more muscle he gained.

Sirius smiled into the side of his neck. “Two.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Are you still with me?”

“Sure.” The world zoomed back into 3D focus when Sirius’ fingers brushed his sweet spot and Remus gripped his shoulder blades with a hitch of breath—his free leg jerked inward at the sudden shift. “There. There, now.”

“I have other plans, sweetheart.”

“Now,” Remus insisted. He would give Sirius anything he wanted if it meant he could feel that thrill again. Their bedroom was dim, but the lights popping at the corners of his vision as Sirius closed a hand around his shaft and continued sliding two fingers into him were so very bright. Remus moved his hands down from Sirius’ shoulders to his hips, then lower to give him a hint. “Now?”

“I was going to do three—”

“Now,” Remus said, brooking no room for argument. He pushed Sirius’ chest until he rolled onto his back—bless the man for his quick thinking skills, because Remus’ new muscle still wasn’t enough to manhandle him properly—and settled himself into his previous position on Sirius’ lap.

A dark eyebrow arched, though his dilated pupils gave away Sirius’ true feelings. “Like this?”

“You said you wanted to look, didn’t you?” Thinking back, Remus couldn’t imagine how he could ever have been worried about this. He took a few deep breaths as he sank down, biting hard on his lip against the dizzy want prodding the edges of his mind. This needed to last. Sirius’ mouth was cherry red and wet when he glanced down, fully seated and feeling rather confident about the whole thing. “Then look.”

The first rock of his hips brought a whimper from plush lips and Remus grinned; he took Sirius’ hands and planted them on his thighs before bracing his own against the broad planes of his chest. Silky fabric parted under his palms and his smile widened into giddiness as he slid his hands beneath it to rest on warm skin. Sirius pushed the side of his face into the pillow with a huff of breath.

“No,” Remus panted as he continued to move, pulling Sirius’ chin back up. His hands were shaking when he cupped his face. “Look. L—look at me.”

Sirius’ brows pitched and his silver gaze flickered down to the garter belt; Remus let his head fall back as long fingers toyed with the straps, sometimes tugging gently, sometimes snapping fireworks through his legs. The power shift between them ebbed and flowed like the tide. He wanted a tsunami.

He worked the words around in his mouth for a moment, unsure of how to ask for what he wanted. One of Sirius’ hands traveled to his back and began moving in steady presses up and down his spine. “Fuck me,” Remus pleaded.

A synchronized roll of their hips made them both moan. “I am,” Sirius said breathlessly.

Remus licked his lips and made a valiant effort to get air back into his lungs. “Please.”

His expression must have made the message clear enough, because understanding rippled across the puzzlement on Sirius’ face in mere moments; with a firm squeeze, Remus’ hips stopped cold. Mistake, his brain thought immediately as Sirius’ dick rested directly on his prostate. Mistake, mistake, keep moving or you’re gonna—

“Remus.”

The whine that tore from his mouth would have been embarrassing if he had any self-conscious braincells left to spare. He bit his lip again, teetering on a knife’s edge while his thighs shook and his knees slid on the sheets.

“Deep breaths.”

One.

“One more for me.”

Two. He was wheezing slightly with the effort of keeping down his moans.

“Try again.”

A frustrated grumble built in his chest, but he obliged. Three. The air was warm and smelled like Sirius; it was intoxicating. His next breath was even deeper, and he let it fill him.

“Good job.”

Something in Remus perked its ears up and he managed a lopsided smile, blinking his eyes open to look down at Sirius. His face was still soft, but his eyes had a tarnished edge to them that sent a shiver down Remus’ spine and nearly undid all his hard work.

“Color?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Green.”

“Are you slipping?”

Slipping, slipped, gone for good, he thought. “Mhmm.”

Sirius laid him back down, catching himself from sliding out at the last second. Remus arched his back at the slow press in. “How do you want it?”

“I already told you twice,” he said, planting a kiss to Sirius’ upper lip. The warm touch around his thighs had not faltered yet. “Come on, Captain, you know what I want.”

Sirius positioned his legs to wrap around his waist and kissed him fully, stealing the breath from Remus’ body in one fell swoop as he began to move his hips again; the pace increased so steadily that Remus nearly lost himself in it. The lace of the garter belt no longer itched, but slid in a blissful rhythm instead. The bits of cold where the small buckles rubbed against his skin were a mind-melting contrast to the cocoon of warmth he sank into.

“M—” Remus didn’t even get the word out before Sirius gave him a hard thrust and pressed their tangled fingers further into the mattress. He muffled a shout into the dip of his shoulder and sucked a mark there between moans. “Oh, fuck, Sirius.”

His head was spinning with the mixture of sensations—he had been so focused on being full that he almost forgot about the hand still moving terribly slow along his shaft. One leg kicked out on its own accord and he twitched, one hip canting upward until Sirius held it back down without breaking stride. Remus’ breaths were little more than staccato moans; he knew bringing out Sirius’ dominant side was an easy switch to flip, but he hadn’t been expecting the change to be quite so sudden. Not that he was complaining, of course.

Sirius let go of his hand to drag his leg back up, fingertips digging in just below the garter as the new angle drew a desperate ‘holy shit’ from Remus and a squeak of protest from their bedsprings. He had forgotten how long it had been since Sirius truly railed his lights out—the tingling sensation racing through his thighs and up to his chest was a welcome companion.

And he began to laugh.

Breathless and practically hiccups, but a laugh all the same. He could see Sirius’ confusion in his mind’s eye despite the fact that he had given up on trying to keep his eyes open several thrusts prior. The movement slowed. “What?” Sirius asked. “What’s so funny?”

“I fucking love you,” Remus said between gasps.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know.” Something warm slid down his cheek. “It’s so good and I can’t—I don’t know. Keep moving, please, please.”

Sirius’ thumb swiped across his cheekbone and he picked up the pace again; Remus’ shocked laughter faded back into panting and babbling within a few seconds, but the pure elation didn’t slip until he felt his orgasm approaching and resorted to leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along the line of Sirius’ collarbone and neck. Sirius liked his mouth, liked feeling it on him, and Remus could tell that he was getting close by the heat building under his palms where he struggled to find a handhold.

“I l—I lo—I love you,” he managed, adding a love bite to his collection around a groan. They were both sweaty messes, but the salt on his lips was exactly what he wanted.

“I love you, too.” Sirius’ voice was just as labored as his own, buzzing against every pleasure center Remus had.

“I lo—” He broke off with a strangled shout as Sirius squeezed the sensitive part of his thigh at the same time as a thrust. There was nowhere for his mouth to go. He bit down hard on instinct.

Sirius hissed in pain and Remus immediately pulled away, feeling frantic and worried and awful. “Ow.”

“ ‘m sorry,” he said, still a little wild as he covered Sirius’ cheek in apologetic kisses and searched for a hand to hold. “ ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius assured him, soothing his hands as they skimmed across his body. “Just surprised me.”

“Didn’t mean to hurt you.” Horror tried to push in around the tangle of joy-want-need-more, but there simply wasn’t room. Remus settled for running his trembling fingers through Sirius’ hair and kissing him gently. He hoped it would be enough.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Sirius said against his lips, rubbing circles with his thumb in the crease of Remus’ hip and thigh. The whirlwind in his head calmed to tv static—the world tunneled to them and their bed. Remus buried his face in Sirius’ neck and slid deep under.

He registered the pressure of Sirius’ hands and the feeling of his own throat pouring out nonsense; he felt his muscles clench and the slide of satin on sweaty skin before balling his fists so tight in Sirius’ babydoll top that it nearly tore. He heard his own breaths become shallow, knew it was Sirius’ hand running along the crown of his dick, and finally, finally shuddered apart with a hitching whine.

“Re, honey.”

Remus sighed through his nose and held him close. He was beyond comfortable, if not a little sticky. Again, his body suggested.

No, his brain answered immediately.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

“I can’t,” Remus slurred.

Lips pressed against the corner of his mouth. “What can’t you do?”

“Go again.”

He felt laughter from the weight above him—Sirius, his brain supplied with a happy fizz down his back—and let his legs be pulled back down to the mattress. “Yeah, not a chance.”

The warmth inside him slipped away and he winced. “Put it back.”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Cause we’re definitely done.” The laughter returned, bright as a summer day, and he rubbed his face in the hollow of angular collarbones where the vibration was strongest. “How are you feeling?”

“Noodle.”

“Okay, sweetheart.”

Remus closed his eyes and stifled a yawn; the world could wait until he was done with his nap.

“Hey.” Someone tapped his hip and he frowned. “No falling asleep yet.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know, but we need water and a shower.”

Remus squirmed around until he could fix Sirius with a look. “Can’t stand up.”

“You hate sleeping while you’re sweaty.”

Fair point. Remus became suddenly and harshly aware of how sticky he was and pulled a face, flexing his fingers on Sirius’ back. The high was softening; he felt more settled in himself already. He nudged Sirius until he laid down, then curled into his ribs with an arm and a leg slung over his body. The aftershocks raced in pops of lightning down his legs. “Teddy bear.”

“Hmm?”

“Teddy bear,” he repeated. “ ’s all you are, at the end of the day. I love it. I love you.”

Sirius pulled him closer and kissed his temple. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He stretched all four limbs and felt his elbow pop, then relaxed. “Much better. Alright, I need to get this thing off.”

If trying to put the garter belt on had been difficult, it was nothing compared to forcing his unsteady and sweat-slick fingers to get it off. “Do you need some help?” Sirius asked, amused.

“No.”

He struggled for a moment longer, spoiling the sweetness of the drop with frustration, before Sirius’ hands replaced his own and carefully untied each strap so he could get it off properly. “There you go.”

Remus kicked it to the floor and glared balefully at it. “I love you, but I’m never wearing that again.”

“Never?”

“Maybe one more time,” he conceded. The confidence boost had been dizzying. “As long as you keep this.”

Sirius looked down at where Remus’ fingers were tugging with the hem of his slip. “I really like it, too.”

“The color’s nice.”

“C’mere.” Sirius wrapped his other arm around Remus’ shoulders and drew him in for a snuggle, rubbing his back with one hand. “Let me know when I can get us some water, okay?”

“You can go, if you need to.”

“Really?”

He hesitated, then moved his head to rest above Sirius’ heartbeat. “No.”

“D’accord.” Sirius kissed his forehead again.

Remus lasted three minutes before he couldn’t stand the tacky feeling of the lube any longer, but those three minutes were the coziest he could remember. Sirius was warm and traced patterns over his bare skin; his soft lips decorated Remus’ face, simultaneously lulling him and keeping him from falling asleep. With a sigh, he detached his arms. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back,” Sirius promised. The room was darker without him—the bed stayed warm. Remus scooted over into the indent he left and basked in the memory, cataloguing his aches. Abs? Sore. Arms? Still good. Thighs? A bit chafed from lace, but alright. Neck? Scattered with love bites he couldn’t recall receiving, though that was a fairly common occurrence.

“That was quick,” he mumbled when the other side of the mattress dipped.

Sirius shrugged. The babydoll shift was tragically absent. “The usual two minutes, actually.”

“Must have zoned out,” he hummed, leaning into the cool washcloth on his face. A few tears always slipped out when they dipped into rougher territory, though he never felt sad. It was just…overwhelming, in the best way.

Sirius cleaned his thighs with the same careful touch as his face before handing him a cup of water. “Are you hungry?”

“Nope.” Remus downed the glass in two gulps and opened his arms. “Bedtime.”

“No pajamas?” Sirius asked with a laugh, though he obliged and let Remus laminate himself to his side.

“Unnecessary.”

“No shower?”

His instinctive response was god no, cuddles take precedence and I’m dead on my feet, but a shower did sound nice. Sirius washing his hair, scrubbing the last bits of shakiness and his drop away, going to bed clean…

“Alright,” he agreed grudgingly. “We’re probably going to need to change the sheets, too.”

“That can wait until we’re done.” And before he could even attempt to stand on his own, Sirius gathered him into his arms and hoisted him off the bed. If he wasn’t afraid he’d fall flat on his face without help, Remus would have protested. “Mon dieu, I forgot how muscly you are now.”

“Says the man who can’t stop ogling me whenever I take my shirt off,” Remus teased, then frowned when he saw the purpling bruise on Sirius’ neck. “Holy shit, my dentist could identify me with that thing. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sirius paused in the bathroom doorway and kissed him hard, stirring the last dregs of arousal in Remus’ gut. “You have blanket permission to do that whenever you like.”

Remus gaped at him, speechless. “Well, that’s not fair,” he managed. “I’m tired.”

“Not a bad way to spend a Sunday night,” Sirius mused. His sneaky squeeze of Remus’ ass did not go unnoticed. “In my personal opinion, of course.”

“Of course,” Remus said drily. Maybe a shower wasn’t the worst idea after all. His knees weren’t nearly sore enough yet.

[biisexualemma]

kick ass. kol mikaelson

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mentions of blood and some violence

requested: n/a

plot: you get hurt and deal with the repercussions

masterlist

"i'm fully capable of kicking your ass," you spat. you were having none of it. you'd been threatened plenty of times in your lifetime, you were equipped to handle this kind of situation. ever since you started dating an original vampire, he had you taking every precaution. you always had vervain in your system. you took self defence classes. you always carried a small stake in your purse, just for times like this. "and if i'm not, my boyfriend certainly won't hesitate to."

"i don't see your boyfriend anywhere?"

"do you know who my boyfriend is?"

"should i?" he took a few steps towards you, but you mimicked and took a few steps back. you weren't far from the compound, so there was no doubt in your mind that if you screamed loud enough, kol could hear you.

you wore a sly smile. "you probably should."

you clutched the stake in your hand, holding it behind your back, ready to move on him if he tried anything. "too bad—" you saw it coming before he did, and quickly sliced his hand open with the tip of stake before he could touch you. while he was caught off guard you nailed him right in the crotch with a powerful kick.

he stumbled backwards, and before he could recover you ran as quickly as you could in the direction of the compound. you weren't stupid. you could only defend yourself so much against a vampire, no matter how young they were. you were sure he could kill you with no trouble at all, you just couldn't give him the chance.

you didn't have a second to pull out your phone to warn anyone of your situation, so you continued to run until you felt a hand clamp around your ankle and yank you to the ground. your face slammed into the pavement, your nose dripping now with blood. you leak out a shriek at the impact, and you quickly noticed the stake in your hand had jammed into you leg as you fell. you pushed aside the pain and scrambled away from the vamp hunting you.

if you died, kol would never let you hear the end of it. he was always having a go at you for being reckless with you life. but in his eyes, being reckless with your life, included simple things like walking home alone, or closing up the bar you worked by yourself, or even leaving the compound without telling him your whereabouts. these were all simple things, things you couldn't avoid. he didn't get it though. so you just didn't tell him. you'd lie and say your walked home with a friend. or lie and say your manager was locking up with you that night. what he didn't know, wouldn't hurt him.

you only wished now, in this moment, that you had listened to him.

you were steps away from the compound, clawing your way to the gates, your right leg struggling from where the stake had penetrated your thigh. you could feel the vampire looming over you. you flipped over, trying to push yourself up with your arms but your legs were weak.

you wore a tired, wicked smile on your face. blood was oozing from your nose, dripping onto your lips. the vamp couldn't understand your reaction, when he was about to suck the life out of you.

"you really don't wanna do this— you're kinda already dead for this," you motioned to your bloodied face. the vampire shook his head, wearing a smirk that you were sure would be wiped off his face any moment now.

"you're pretty cocky for someone that's about to die," he quipped.

"if anyone's about to die— i can promise that it's going to be you," you let out a heavy sigh of relief when you heard klaus' voice from behind you. "you not only interrupted my reading but you've also only gone and bashed up the face of my brother's girl."

you saw the young vampires face turn pale. he knew who he was dealing with. everyone knew klaus, everyone knew the mikaelsons. he suddenly looked very regretful.

"you're— you're boyfriend is—"

"kol mikaelson," he appeared from behind klaus, elijah and freya following behind him. klaus grabbed the young vamp before he got any ideas about running away. you knew they were going to really make him pay for this. you'd feel sorry for him if he hadn't just tried to kill you, twice.

kol crouched beside you, his eyebrows knitted tightly together as he gently touched your face. you winced, pulling away from him. his jaw clenched. his eyes remained on you, as he spoke to his siblings. "freya, take y/n inside and clean her up," kol helped you onto your feet, handing you over to freya with great care as you limped on inside.

you were sure that vampire never lived to see another day. you were sure when he was left alone with klaus, kol and elijah that he was made to suffer deeply. you tried not to think about it. you should be used to the blood and gore by now, but nothing ever prepared you for it. you put it out of your mind, hissing when freya touched your nose cautiously. you frowned, leaning away from her touch.

"ow," you mumbled quietly. freya muttered a quiet sorry in return, but continued to wipe away the blood that had poured all over the rest of your face.

"i don't think it's broken," she wore a sympathetic smile, you were sure she was trying not to think about what her brothers were doing too. "but it's bruised pretty bad."

you nodded, letting her touch your chin and tilt your head backwards. "shove these up there and it should stop the bleeding," you did as she said and put the cotton wool up your nostrils, and sure enough the bleeding stopped. "what happened to your leg?"

you scoffed out a laugh, your head still tilted back as you held the cotton up your nose. you couldn't really see freya from this angle at all. "uh— that was my fault actually— never run with scissors— or stakes in this instance."

freya cracked a small smile of amusement. you were the clumsiest person she'd met, only you would bring a stake to defend yourself and end up hurting yourself with it. "you're so stupid," she muttered half-jokingly. you could tell she was waiting for the moment her brothers would come back and start some kind of argument over this. she always tried to keep the peace, which is why she wasn't grilling you about walking home alone. and although you knew kol was worried about you, you were also prepared to get an earful from him about being more careful. so right now, you were thankful to be in freya's company over any other mikaelson.

"uh huh," you nodded. it was true, you did often get yourself into these stupid situations. it wasn't your fault, you were like a beacon for bad situations. you titled your head back to its normal level, catching freya's stare. "do you think he'll be mad?"

she gave you a soft stare before refocusing on your leg, cleaning out the wound. "don't worry about it," she shook her head. "you know he's really only angry with himself. he just needs to get it all out."

you nodded, your eyes moving to the door frame where kol was standing silently watching his sister tend to your wound. he didn't look angry, you thought. "i can take over, sister," he spoke up, catching freya's attention. she nodded, putting down her supplies and walking to kol.

"don't be mean to her," she threatened quietly, so only he could hear. kol clenched his jaw as his sister left and you sat watching him standing far away from you.

"hey," you mumbled. he moved so he was sitting where freya sat before in front of you. he didn't look at you, he just picked up the supplies freya had been using to clean out your wound, and begun inspecting your leg. "are you mad at me?"

he shook his head.

you noticed a bit of blood on his neck that he must've missed upon cleaning himself up. he would never let you see him like that. he always cleaned himself up before he came to you. he knew how much you hated blood. you accepted his lifestyle. you just didn't need to see it, he knew that.

"i should've called," you let out a soft sigh. you felt bad for lying now. lying to him didn't benefit anyone. you knew he was protective, but you also knew it was for good reason. for this exact reason. you felt guilty.

"yeah," he mumbled. you winced as he pulled a splinter out of your wound, you hand instinctively went to his shoulder and squeezed tight. he stopped, glancing up at you where he finally saw the bruising surrounding your nose. he threw down the supplies in his hands and let out a deep sigh.

"i'm sorry," you frowned, you moved your hand from his shoulder to the side of his face. "i'll be more careful next time."

"no next time," he shook his head. he placed his hand over yours and moved it from his face so he could hold your hand. "sweetheart, i just want you to be safe."

you nodded. "i know," you loved kol, so much it hurt sometimes. and it pained you to see him looking so upset, so unlike himself. "if it makes you feel any better, i got a good kick in to his balls before all this happened."

kol cracked a small smile, ducking his head. "that does make me feel a bit better, actually."

you looked at him sympathetically. you wanted to ease his worry but there wasn't much you could do. he would always be worried and protective no matter how careful you were.

"d'you still love me even though i'm a bad girlfriend, who gets herself into bad situations more often than you'd care for me to?"

"'course i still love you, darling," he squeezed your hand he was holding and lifted it to press a kiss to the back of your hand. "just call me next time you need a ride home."

you nodded, still wearing a gentle smile. you were glad he wasn't angry, you didn't have the energy to hash this out with him. he knew you understood why he is the way he is.

"i love you," you squeezed his hand in return. "thanks for protecting me."

"anytime," he wore a lopsided smile now. he leaned closer a pressed a soft kiss onto your lips.

"still think i'm pretty with this honker?" you teased, trying to make light of the situation now that everything had been resolved. kol snorted, pulling away from your lips.

"i do," you wore a wide smile. he moved both his hands to either side of your face and held you still, looking over you. "you're beautiful."

[moonlit-imagines]

Misbehavior (Part 1)

Jason Todd x batkid!reader

warnings:

a/n: tysm anon!!

prompt: anonymous: “Hello Lacey! Hope your doing great! Could I please request a bat family x batsis!reader where the reader is Kind of the middle child (I was thinking older than Damian but younger than Tim) and she’s always forgotten and in the back. Maybe some scenarios can be that no one listens when she talks or they forget to invite her to do stuff. So then one day she acts up in school like maybe punching someone for no good reason because she’s craving attention but instead of Bruce showing up to get her Jason shows up and he sees that she’s actually really sad and starts to question her until she tells him everything and maybe spills some tears and it ends with just Jason comforting her and cheering her up. Just some soft Jason for my soul! Also have a great day and I hope that you feel better and more motivated now after your break! 😘”

part 2

No matter what you did, none of your deeds went unnoticed. Good or bad.

You always heard how Dick was so independent, the one everyone should use as an example.

You always heard how Barbara could do it all, she never failed to impress.

You always heard how Jason was reckless, someone who needed to get his act together.

You always heard how Tim was such a prodigy, he was one of a kind.

You always heard how Steph was so determined, she had such amazing goals.

You always heard that Cass was perfect, they’d never change a thing about her.

You always heard that Duke was so strong, he’d never give up no matter what stood in his way.

You always heard that Damian was dangerous, a kid that needed to be guided.

But what about you? What did they hear about you? Nothing. No one ever spoke of you, they didn’t have the time. It seemed as if you were just unimpressive, there wasn’t one thing that needed to be mentioned. Stuck in the middle of a bunch of bats and birds, no way to stand out in the crowd.

Maybe not in a mask or a cowl, a dress or a suit, behind a computer or among the darkness, but there was one place you couldn’t be ignored...

You sat at your desk, picking at old tape with the tip of your fingernail. The teacher had nothing interesting to say, so what was the point of being here? What made Gotham Academy so special that you just had to attend this place?

The uniform was overkill, the classes went nowhere, the students were too preppy, and you didn’t have a single thing in common with anyone here.

Anger was starting to bubble inside you as you continued your internal self-loathing. Your mind was only focused on the negative, but it was shifting from school back to home.

No one was ever there for you, not even on patrol. You’d called for backup several times on missions and nearly lost it all when you had to go in alone. If it were anyone else, a teammate would have met them in a heartbeat.

Your plans were always overshadowed whenever you tried to set up a mission or even just a day off. You wanted cookies? Too bad, Tim wants brownies. You wanted to watch a movie? Too bad, everyone chose a TV show. It was the little things that irked you the most. Half the time, you never even got the memo.

And what about when you all come back from patrol with all sorts of injuries and Alfred comes to patch you up? Well, not you. He’ll run to check on cuts and scrapes. Meanwhile, you had a broken wrist and a black eye.

You’d finally run out of things to pick at around your desk which resorted in you tapping instead. There was a brief bit of zoning out as you remembered the time that Damian’s plan for evading Killer Croc’s attack was to push you in the way. Or the time that Jason hid his guns in your bed for reasons he didn’t care to explain. Or when Dick drank the last of the milk and didn’t tell you until after you poured your cereal. Or when Tim told you that you weren’t fit for the mission he had been planning. Or when Bruce blatantly ignored the story you told out of pure excitement, giving you nothing but a “sounds like you had fun.”

While you were in a horrible daze, you felt a hand on your shoulder that snapped you out of it faster than the Barry Allen. Without even evaluating the situation, your reflexes caused you to turn and twist your classmates arm backwards as he screamed.

“Hey! Stop, ow, that hurts! Stop! Stop it!” You processed his words too late and knew exactly what was coming next.

“Y/N L/N!” You teacher shouted as you drew your hand back. “Dean’s office. Right now.” Her sharp voice sent a chill down your spine, not even the Joker could do that. You’d be able to explain the situation pretty easily, you just didn’t want to make it worse. But there was one ankle that sent you off the edge. Another student tripped you on your way through the aisles, and that student caught a fist to the face. The audience gasped and shouting from your teacher ensued, but you didn’t listen, you’d take the punishment at this point. So you walked right out and headed for the dean’s office without so much as a hall pass.

“Mx. l/n? What’s this about?” Dean Williams was surprised to say the least, you’d never been sent in for discipline before. Was there a certain way to do this?

“Well, I zoned out and some kid behind me grabbed my shoulder, I accidentally twisted his arm.” You retold your story, the abridged version. “But on my way out I punched a kid in the face because he tripped me. That one’s on me.”

“...Well,” the dean frowned at his obligations, but had to go through with some kind of punishment, “I’m going to have to suspend you for physical contact with a student. I’ll call your father to come pick you up.” You shrugged and slouched back in your chair, giving up on any hope of talking your way out of this. It might as well just happen. You listened to the clicking of the buttons on the dean’s phone as he typed in the Wayne Manor phone number, obviously reaching Alfred almost immediately.

“Wayne Manor.” You eard his faint voice through the speaker.

“Hello, this is Dean Williams from Gotham Academy, may I speak to Mr. Wayne? I have his child in my office.” Your dean explained over the phone, peeking back at your for a split second. You were completely unbothered, it was baffling.

“Is it Damian?” You heard him ask, causing an involuntary eye roll.

“Y/N, actually.” There was a long pause before someone else picked up the phone. “Mr. Wayne, this is Dean Williams at Gotham Academy. I have y/n sitting across from me right now, they seemed to have gotten themself into a physical altercation with two separate students, I have no choice but to suspend them.” You heard a deep sigh over the phone, then the handheld piece was handed to you.

“Bruce?” You asked.

“Really? Fighting at school?” He sounded unimpressed. Nothing new, even when you do something new.

“Something like that. Whoops.” He hung up on you right after that, so you handed the phone back and told your dean, “Guess they’ll get me soon.”

“You call your father by his first name?” Dean Williams had nosily questioned.

“I’m adopted.” He obviously didn’t know you as well as your more troublesome sibling, it was time he just minded his business.

After a good thirty minutes of silent waiting while listening to keyboard clacking and papers flipping by the front desk, the office door opened, and to your surprise, it was one of your brothers.

“I’m here for y/n.” He mumbled, signing the piece of paper and showing his ID.

“Alright, Mr. Harper, I just have to check some paperwork really quick...” The receptionist went into your file and checked for your emergency contacts. “You’re all set. Now, y/n has been suspended for two weeks. I suggest you get to the bottom of their little ‘outburst’ before they’re able to come back to school.” It actually pissed Jason off to hear her say that.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His sarcasm wasn’t subtle. “Come on, kid.” Your brother gripped your arm and led you out of the office, noticing your bitter expression that he couldn’t even rationalize. Was that normal? “So what happened. Bruce just told me to come get you.”

“Of course he did.” You rolled your eyes on the brink of tears, he didn’t even come to get you himself. Jason opened the car door for you and nudged you inside, slamming it once you were clear.

“You better have a good reason,” he warned as he started the engine, “I was in the middle of a poker game.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause I’m such an inconvenience.” You were starting to remind him of himself. That was never a good thing.

“Okay, my bad. I didn’t mean it like that.” Jason began speeding down the block, you’d never once seen him obey a speed limit. You’d think someone with a fake ID and a death certificate would want to avoid any run-ins with the cops, but Gotham was just one of those cities.

“Yeah, right.” You reached for the radio knobs and felt Jason’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“No music until you explain yourself.” You fell back into your seat to pout, muttering some curses under your breath. “I won’t tell Bruce or anyone. I swear.”

“I just zoned out. Reflexes.” You bluntly replied.

“What?” He still didn’t have any context to go off of.

“I twisted someone’s arm backwards. Honest mistake.” Jason knew there was more to this story. “But on my way out of the classroom, I punched this kid who tried to trip me. That was on him.”

“As much as I condone payback, you can’t do that at school.” He sighed. “You’ve never been sent home before. That I know of. So why now?”

“Yeah, you know, maybe that’s the issue? You couldn’t tell me if I’ve ever gotten in trouble before. None of you could. You couldn’t tell me a definitive thing about me. When’s my birthday, Jason?” He was at a loss for words. “That’s what I thought.”

“So this was all for attention?” Jason asked. “There’s a hell of a lot of better ways to go about that.”

“Tried them all, this one barely even worked.” You replied with a crack in your voice. “How come none of you care about me? Why am I always looked over? I’m just like the rest of you. I put on that stupid suit every night and kick ass, I get my job done, I get good grades, I’m resourceful, I’m special—” You’d let that last one slip in your rant to your older brother, it shocked him so bad he stopped the car.

“I know what you mean.” Jason stared straight ahead at the empty road. “I felt the same way when I came back. After everyone was used to me being back, it was like nothing ever happened. Bruce just went back to calling me careless, irresponsible.”

“At least you get noticed, Jason. Your identifiable.” You turned to him with a pained look and he risked his confidence to look you in the eye. Once he did, he couldn’t look away. It hurt him to see someone so familiar to himself have tears running down their face because they felt forgotten. No kid should ever have to feel like that. That was why Bruce took him in. That was how Jason became Robin.

“Fuck this.” Jason hit the gas and turned the car around. “We’re getting ice cream. Do you like ice cream? That’s a serious question.”

“I...I guess.” You were somewhat confused by his sudden literal change in direction.

“Good. You’re my kid for today, all my attention goes to you. I’m sure Bruce won’t notice if you’re gone for a few hours.” Jason’s jaw dropped at his last comment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right and you should say it.”

taglist: @thatwaspossession // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @kinoko-kai //

[gyllenhaalstories]

YOU WON’T PLAY, YOU’RE NO FUN — PROF!CHRIS

summary: chris evans is your professor with whom you’ve had an affair with since the beginning of the semester. you meet with him over zoom with your fellow teammates to discuss your project, but you can’t seem to get into the right mindset. instead of providing the group with clever comments and ideas, all you do is test the limits of chris’ patience and self control.

warnings: don’t have sex with your prof please, mentions of online classes, smut including: established dom/sub relationship & teacher/student relationship (abuse of power used strictly as a joke, they are both 18+ and consensual), degradation, masturbation & mutual masturbation, edging. MINORS DON’T READ NOR INTERACT.

word count: 1500

notes: rail me daddy :) i’m a hoe for teacher/student if you can’t tell already. i do keep it vague by not mentioning any majors, don’t worry! it’s my first time writing for chris, so please, be kind!!! i hope you enjoy reading this mess!!!! ily <3

gif credits: capsgrantrogers blessing us with this low quality webcam goodness.

“Miss /Y/L/N, would you mind staying a little longer? I need to talk to you.” Chris’ voice resonated as your classmates went quiet before they waved their cameras goodbye and left the two of you alone.

Uh oh.

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” By the time you were done with your question, you noticed that his face was frozen. “Mister Evans! Chris?! I think there’s an issue I can’t — hear you.” You sighed and rolled your eyes. You seriously needed to get that Internet connection checked. You had your hand on your laptop, ready to close it up when you heard the familiar noise of a video call, but this time it was a private conversation.

“Don’t want anybody to walk in on us, right?” Chris winked and smirked at you. You had a flashback of that one time you hooked up in his office and realized his door was left ajar when you could hear the secretary of the department arguing with the printer. You thanked your guardian angel (who must had been very disappointed) that you were just on your knees blowing him off, and that nothing too serious was going on.

You laughed, for a second you thought you were in trouble.

“What was that all about?” Chris questioned, his smirk disappeared and was replaced by a dark expression.

“I have no clue what you’re referring too.” You shrugged lightly and looked at the screen, wishing he had chosen another shirt that showcased his tattoos. You were lucky enough to see his arms from the short sleeves, you felt as aroused as royal men back in the day when they saw a woman’s ankles.

Chris clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Oh, really? There is no explanation to the attitude you’ve been giving your teammates and me all morning?”

You sighed again, loud enough for him to hear you. “They’re idiots and I’m sick of their shit. They’re not doing anything on the project yet they show off in front of you just to   —“

“Got it, they’re dumb and you’re smart.” He put the emphasis on the last few words. “Tell me, Miss, if you’re that smart, how come you’ve made the very stupid decision to be rude to me as well?”

You swallowed thickly. You were just so pissed off, exhausted from the all nighter you had to do in order to complete the requirements for today’s class. “Chris, look, you know it wasn’t about you...” You heard him cough. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I’d call you a good girl, but good girls don’t talk back and they certainly don’t act so bratty. What a potty mouth, you swore in front of everybody. Do I have to teach you manners too? I’m afraid that’s not listed on my tasks as your professor, too bad.”

“I said I was sorry! You know how much I hate them!”

“Do I have to give you a bad grade for not cooperating? Not everybody is as understanding as me, you need to learn that.”

He sounded so arrogant, so condescending. As much as you hated it, it turned you on. You were all squirmy on your chair, and he caught up on that.

“Tell me, what’s on your mind, princess? Why are you on the edge?”

You looked up through your lashes, letting out a complaint. That fucker. The last time you met, which was over a week ago, he had an emergency and had to leave his apartment to go on campus. How convenient, you had not finished and you were left breathless and worked up on his bed. He made you promise not to touch yourself without permission on his way out. He knew just how impatient you could get. All the needy texts you sent him while he was looking over his other classes during an exam; all the begging you did over the phone while he insisted on doing small talk.

“You won’t play with me,” you pouted at the screen. “You’re no fun.”

He chuckled, his voice sounded lower than usual while he sat up on his chair. He loved this game with you, probably as much as you did if not more.

You noticed his arm disappeared out of the frame. You’d do ten other team works with your stupid colleagues if it meant you’d be the one to take care of his hard on at that very moment.

“Oh, baby wanna have fun? Is that it? You should have told me sooner!” He cleared his throat when he heard you sigh again, giving you a warning. “Get those fingers nice and wet for me.”

You obeyed, sucking on two fingers of your dominant hand. You picked up on the back and forth movements of his arm, he was palming at his crotch. You caught a glimpse of him standing up   — he was in tight Calvin Klein boxers   —  and sitting back down, his cock freed from his clothes. “I’ve been good, Sir. So good.”

He nodded slowly, after spitting in his hand and starting to fist his cock. “Oh, really?”

You nodded frantically. “I haven’t touched myself since you left,” you pulled your hand away from your mouth, a string of saliva fell down your chin. “I’ve been so wet for you, Sir. You’re all I’ve been thinking about.”

“Then think about my fingers rubbing your clit.” He groaned, the speed of his arm motions increased.

You jerked on your chair at the contact of your fingers, your panties were soaked from your arousal. “Sir!” You moaned out when you circled faster against the bundle of nerves.

“You’re so fucked up for me, you’d rather cum on your fingers than on my face, huh?” You felt tears pooling in your eyes. “Stop touching yourself and answer me.”

You pulled your hand away, showing it to the camera so he believed you. “I want to cum so bad, Sir! Please, just once! And I’ll wait until we meet again. I need it!”

“And I need to fuck that tight little cunt of yours and you don’t hear me complainin’.” His bicep flexed in his tight shirt, his breathing got heavier. “I waited for you the entire week. I didn’t text you in the middle of the night begging like a desperate slut.” He nodded, indicating you could start rubbing again.

You moaned loudly, throwing your head back. He was edging you, again.

“Eyes on me, Baby. Need to see you.”

It took so much energy just to keep your eyes open.

“Faster.” He growled, he was so close too. You could feel it, even if he was far away.

“Sir, please!”

“Stop, stop right fucking now.” He pulled away from his swollen cock at the same time as you did. “I won’t tolerate attitude like this again, you heard me?” You nodded, mouthed a ‘yes’. “I don’t want to repeat myself. You’re such a dumb little baby sometimes, I’ll probably have to.” The more he mocked you, the more you needed to touch yourself again. “Next time you act like a bitch in my class, you’ll regret it.” You never took his threats lightly. The first, and last, time that you did, you ended up bent over his knee with the belt of his dress pants spanking your ass red like the ink from the pen he used to grade papers

“I’ll count to ten. At ten, you’ll...”

“I’ll cum!” You spoke excitedly.

“Yes, Babygirl. You’ll get to cum.” He licked his lips and stroked his beard, his hand holding his sensitive cock. “Ready?”

You replied with even more enthusiasm and he started to count up.

“Slowly, 1, 2, 3...” He swallowed thickly. “Add more pressure now, 4, 5, 6,” he tightened his grip around his cock. “Faster, 7, 8, 9...” he jerked himself up at the same speed as you. “Now, cum for me. Make a mess like you’d do on my cock. That’s right, cum for me, Princess.”

The knot in your stomach finally snapped and you released yourself on your hand. You were panting and clenching around nothing, wishing you were with Chris right now.

He growled loudly as he released himself on his hand and shirt. “Look what you did to me, Baby.” He sat up just enough to show you, causing you to laugh at the sight of his messed up top.

In exchange, you showed him your slick coated fingers before you licked them clean. Blood rushed to his cock again, but he took a deep breath to calm down. “All good now?”

“Yes! Thank you, Sir.” You smiled, content and satisfied.

He wiped his hand clean with his shirt, after he removed it and let you admire his broad chest and inked drawings. “I’m giving you extra homework.”

Your smile disappeared and you squinted, mentally preparing for more readings or an extra essay on how good he fucked you. It would be your third or fourth, you ran out of synonyms to explain that he made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

“Take a shower and a nap, I’ll get to this meeting and meet you back home, okay?”

Your face lit up again, and you clapped happily.

“See? I can be fun when I want to.”

[canonobsessions]

Hey there and welcome to tumblr!! i’m a huge simp for Julian lol im so happy to see somebody writing for TPB! <3 i was wondering if you could write something involving Julian and a cudding -> confession -> sex sort of situation with a female reader?

a/n: I'm so sorry for this late response! I'd be so happy to!

Fandom: Trailer Park Boys

Word Count: 4,243

Scenario: Julian and Reader have an impromptu cuddling session that results in a confession and subsequently, a steamy encounter.

Julian didn't know how it got to this point, but he wasn't about to complain. Sometimes everything just fell into place, so when you arrived that night at his trailer on a cold, dark winter's night he rolled with it. It was just a mishap, your car breaking down before you were able to get home. Like many people, you came to him with your problem.

Unlike with some other people, Julian was happy to help you out. He didn't hesitate when he stepped aside and let you track slushy snow into his home. It didn't even cross his mind until he was stepping in it himself. Even then, it only made him more aware of your state of dress.

You definitely hadn't intended to be out long, with your short sleeves on and little to no protective clothing. You looked frigid and he had just the remedy for it.

So, you wound up on his couch, wrapped up and sharing a blanket with him while watching some schlocky action film. Nothing he was actually paying attention too. How could he be with you in the room, taking a small sip of his Rum and Coke with that pretty smile on your face.

It was almost like a dream.

"Julian, I really can't thank you enough again. I'm sorry to just drop in on you like this," He'd just gotten ready to go to bed when you'd arrived, but even then, it wasn't any kind of a bother with you around. But, he had to play it cool as he always did.

"It's no trouble, [Y/N]. Stop worrying about it," He reassured you for the fifth time, taking the moment to wrap his arm around your shoulder and squeeze reassuringly. "You couldn't help it, probably the cold messing with your car. I'll get some of the guys to help get it fixed in the morning,"

And there was that damn smile that roped him in from the moment he'd met you. At first he'd just thought he was drunk, but he'd come to learn you were as capable and friendly as you were pretty. You were one of the few people who came around the Trailer Park and helped him and his friends out on occasion.

The situation had gotten twisted up to where it almost seemed awkward to pursue you with how close you'd gotten to Bubbles and Ricky as well. That being said, he was also always in a relationship when you weren't. Nothing really ever seemed right until now.

Now. He had to find the courage to say it, but there was that pitch of anxiety in his stomach, the one he thought he could stamp out in almost any occasion, but you were special. He didn't want to mess this up.

"You're really too good to me, Jules," A damn shiver nearly crawled up his spine when you said that. That and the way you were shaking just sent a small thrill through him.

Were you still cold or were you nervous to have his arm around you? With the way you leaned into him further, it couldn't have just been nerves. You did still feel chilly, so he gently rubbed your upper arm. He wasn't just feeling your soft skin under his rough finger tips. This was just part of helping you.

Man was that stupid, he was acting like he hadn't had his fair share of pretty girls over. But, you were more than pretty, you were beautiful. Classy and sweet.

"Just doing what any good friend would," The word friend had a near sour note to it, not from leaving his mouth, but it just rang oddly. He wasn't malicious about it. It just wasn't right.

"Yeah, right!" There was an awkward inflection in your tone, but he wasn't going to push it. You were probably just more comfortable with being friends after all.

"Damn, my feet are still freezing," You'd complain quietly after a brief silence and Julian reacts without thinking about it.

"C'mere," He reached down to your ankle and grabbed it, gently coaxing your feet up onto the couch. You adjusted to the hold folding your legs off to the side. Your [E/C] eyes are filled with curiosity. He offered a smile before drawing your feet into his stomach, where he was more than warm enough to help bring you up to temp.

"When I was a kid, my grandmother would do this for me when I'd come inside after playing in the snow," He recalled the late nights he spent watching old movies with his grandmother, eating snacks and keeping warm and cuddled up together. Of course, she'd been plenty warmed up from the brandy she'd consumed time and time again.

That sweet smile of yours was back once again, but accompanying it was a pretty blush that colored your face perfectly. He couldn't help his mind when it wandered to a less wholesome thought. What would you look like, red and panting under him? What were other ways you of all people could let him warm you up?

"That's really sweet. She must have been one hell of a lady to raise someone as gentlemanly as you, Jules," You might have been somewhat teasing, but he felt warm from the compliment. She had been as good of a role-model as she could be, doing everything she could for not only him, but for Bubbles as well.

"Thanks, [Y/N]," He patted your blanket covered calf with his hand and left it there for a moment, idly tracing his thumb over your muscle in a soothing manner.

Things got quiet again as you both sat there, watching the screen with little interest in what was going on. Julian was far more focused on how good it felt to have you curled against him and to feel your legs move. You were warming up and you were tantalizingly soft. It was driving him crazy, but he was being good.

You didn't drink much of his Rum and Coke, but you did have a sip or two, just to stave off any lingering cold.

"Julian, can I ask you something?" You'd knocked him out of his thoughts with that soft inquiry. He looked at you and felt his stomach flip, seeing your uncertain look.

"Anything," It was one small word, but he put a lot of feeling behind it. It sat heavy between the two of you for a heart-beat. Time really seemed to slow as he felt the way you were starting to shake again. The way you bit your lip and fluttered your lashes, looking at him with those eyes. It really felt like you told him everything he needed to know through body language alone.

Julian leaned in, his dark eyes searching yours for a solid answer, something more than just the way your body was calling out for him.

"Do you like me, just as a friend?" He wanted to kiss the uncertainty right out of your mouth and swallow it. How could someone as beautiful and amazing as you be so unsure of what you did to him?

"More than that," His words came out softer, rougher as he tried to reign himself in. "Does that make you uncomfortable?" He didn't want to scare you. You didn't have a ride home, it was too cold to walk off. He didn't want to misread what was going on. He was playing it safe.

"No!" It was like you were yelping, like he’d hit you in the stomach with that simple question. It gave away how eager you were and Julian couldn’t help but chuckle when you clasped your dainty hand over your mouth. “No, I’m sorry. You could never make me uncomfortable. Well, not like that,” The words fell from your lips like snow from the sky. “So I do make you uncomfortable?” He was teasing you now, relishing in the fact that you’d made that first move. You’d been the one to bravely ask him just what he thought of you and it made you flustered. You weren’t uncomfortable and you didn’t feel unsafe. Good. He wouldn’t have been able to handle it otherwise. “I like you too, Julian,” Finally, you’d admit it yourself. You’d put it out there that you were interested in him and he was interested in you. It was like that last wall came tumbling down. It made you look bare and vulnerable and unsure. That just made him want to scoop you into his arms and show you just how sure he was of the situation. “So, what now,” You’d asked, looking to him for guidance. Those big, beautiful eyes drew him right in. He wasn’t going to answer you with flowery words, he was going to show you. Julian made slow moves, roping you into him with room enough to say no if you wanted to. His large palms felt right at home, gripping your thighs and tugging you to where you were seated firmly on his lap. That little gasp that left your lips only made him drag you down harder onto him, letting you feel just how much he liked you. “What do you want, [Y/N]?” He felt the way you were shaking against him, the way you tilted your pelvis to align yourself with him. As if he were a virgin again, you had him shuddering with his restraint. He palmed your thighs, rubbing them soothingly. “I-I mean, I want you, Julian, b-but not just, ah,” He couldn’t help but to rock himself up into your core when you admitted you wanted him. There was no missing that you wanted more though, so he stilled, his dark eyes searching yours again, wondering what had you hesitating. “I don’t just want to be a fling,” Of course you didn’t, he didn’t either. But, it wasn’t like he had a particularly strong history of long, stable relationships. He had more one-night stands than he did real girlfriends he’d kept in his life. How could you not see you were different than those other girls was lost on him. Both of his hands traced up from your thighs, jumping to smooth up your arms and to your neck. He savored touching you while he thought about just how deeply he wanted to reassure you. He traced a path up to your neck, where he threaded his fingers into your hair, his thumb resting on the slope of your jawline. You wouldn’t be able to look away if you tried. He met your gaze, dark brows set into a serious furrow. “Never. [Y/N], you could never be just a fling for me,” He admitted, his voice hoarse with desire and love. He didn’t want to give you a chance to respond. Gently, he pulled you into a solid, warm kiss. Your lips molded to his perfectly. Just slightly wet from how you’d licked it only moments before. He poured his passion and love for you into it, hoping to smooth out any worries that he wasn’t dead serious on how much he liked you. Julian pulled a weak moan from you when he pulled away, your lips sticking together for a split second, sending a firework of pleasure down his spine. He wanted to devour you. His big hand cradled your head as he went in for another kiss, mouth opening just slightly to mouth your lips, to trace your tongue with his own. Just the coupling, the breathy noises and moans he pulled from you were drowning out the sound of gunfire from the busted up looking television just behind you. Nothing could distract him from how perfect you felt seated on top of him. How delicious your lips were, how easily you opened up to him. How many times had he dreamt of this? Could he even count the times you’d been at the forethought of his mind when he’d jerked himself off in the shower? Now that you’d both been honest, he could make those wild

fantasies real. “Julian,” Your voice was quaking, full of lust and need that he felt hit right through him. If that wasn’t enough to tell him you needed more, the way you were grinding on his hard cock was. A near growl left the dark haired man as he greedily grasped your ass, hoisting you further onto him. He stood up with ease, the blanket covering the two of you quickly forgotten. Any previous cold having been ripped away by red-hot need. That squeal had him chuckling between your dainty kisses. He easily brought you down that narrow hall, taking just a moment to push you against the paneling to indulge in tasting you. His tongue was more than eager to tangle with your own, the sloppy noises louder still now that you were away from the TV. Back on the move, Julian kicked open his bedroom door, relishing in the way you giggled at how forceful he’d been. Instead of throwing you onto the bed, he moved all the way to it’s edge, lowering you down onto it like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held in his hands. “God, you are beautiful, [Y/N],” Julian rasped as he admired how perfect you looked on his bed, flushed and lips swollen from how excited the two of you had been to do something as simple as kiss. “Julian,” Your voice took a serious tone, your own brows ticking down as you reached up with your now warm hands, letting them rest on his face, thumb tracing along the sharply trimmed line of his beard. “Julian, you’re beautiful too, so handsome. I can’t believe you want me too,” You were gushing, about him of all people. Shaking his head, Julian took your hands into his own, placing a kiss on your knuckles. He allowed himself the chance to really look at you, just as you were. His heart filled with affection for you. For just the way you spoke to him, marveling at him. “I can’t believe an angel like you would want anything to do with a man like me,” Julian’s voice was low and dark as he leaned back in, dying for another taste of you. This time, things went further, his hands roaming eagerly while your mouths met passionately in their own special patterns. He squeezed your shoulders, massaged down your arms and to your stomach. Testing the waters, his thick fingers peaked under your flimsy shirt, stroking at the soft skin of your belly. The way your muscles flexed and you moaned made him take liberties, inching up your ribs to rub smooth, firm circles there. With your last chance squandered through a needy moan, Julian’s large hands cupped your breasts for a firm squeeze, savoring in a moment he’d imagined just a short time ago. Julian swallowed every needy noise you made as he massaged your breasts, his hips rolling down to meet your needy movements. All at once there was too much fabric in the way. You were pulling at his shirt as soon as he move away, pulling it off of his body and revealing his strong chest and shoulders. Just as excited, Julian hooked his thumbs into your shirt, pulling it up and hooking your bra with it, baring your chest to him in one smooth motion, proving just how experienced he was. God, you were a delicious sight. Your breasts heaving in the dim light of his room. Gravity knew what it was doing and it had Julian speechless. Before long, the temptation was too strong, he dove in for another kiss, smoothing over your shy features with a reassuring kiss. His lips were eager to move, leaving a damp trail of kisses down your jaw and neck. He licked at the dip of your clavicle and relished in the way you shook and gasped. Smirking up at you, dark eyes smoldering with lust, he licked a trail to your right breast, nipping at the flexible flesh he found there. Every little sensation was drawing up for the moment he took your nipple into his hot mouth, tongue lapping as he suckled. He made sure your left breast didn’t go unattended, his thick, rough fingers plucking at the pert tip, rolling the bud in between his fingers, toying with you as he enjoyed himself thoroughly. “God, Julian, your mouth is so warm,” You whimpered, egging him on, your legs curling

around his thighs, beckoning him in for more. But, yet again, there were too many clothes in the way. But, he was a practiced man, he wanted to rile you up. There was an art to getting a woman ready. He switched to the other nipple, leaving the right to tighten and harden in the cold air. Your fingers found his normally tidy black hair, mussing up the styling by tugging him closer. “P-please, stop teasing me,” You needed more, that much was obvious with how insistently you rolled up into him. He could feel just how hot and burning you were at your core, the heat between the two of you felt like it was enough to burn the clothes right from your body. Julian chuckled lowly, shaking his head as he pulled away from your breast. His eyes locked onto yours once more and he gave you a dark smirk. “No need to rush, [Y/N]. You’ll be here until your car is fixed after all,” He teased. You looked so cute when your covered your face, no doubt feeling embarrassed for your needy reaction. He took his time with you. He tasted you, licking a path down your ribs and your stomach, coming to the button of your pants. He didn’t take too long to pull off both them and your panties, revealing your glistening petals to the cool air. You groaned at the sensation and he marveled at just how beautiful you were. Thick fingers traced lazy circles into your inner thighs working their way to your core. He wasn’t ashamed as he looked at your folds, the way your clit was already swollen and eager from the bare minimum frotage. His thumbs swiped along the outer lips, pulling them apart, making way for his broad tongue as he licked a line up from your core to your clit, popping it into his mouth swiftly for a change of pace. You tasted delicious on his tongue, tart and sweet all at once. Greedily, he buried his face into your core, his tongue diving into your soft folds. The tight ring of your cunt was no match for him, the muscle pushed as deep into you as it could, the pad of his thumb taking up stroking your taut pearl in tandem with his thrusts. He listened to your moans as he worked you over, dragging more of your wetness out, preparing you for him. And when it sounded like you were just at your apex, he pulled away. “Oh god, Julian,” It was nearly scolding the way you said his name, but he wasn’t going to leave you wanting for long, deciding to instead unfasten his pants, eagerly ridding himself of his pants and underwear. He stood nude in front of you, taking his large, girthy dick into his hands, stroking it slowly at the debaucherous sight of you, of all people, spread out on his bed, all for him. “Please, I need you, I need you,” That could’ve nearly done him in there, just the way you were pleading for him. Telling him you needed him, and god did he need to be needed. The fact it was just in this way was icing on the cake. Not wasting anymore time, Julian’s hands gripped your hips, lining you up just the way he wanted you. He bent over and steadied himself, peppering your lips with kisses as he guided himself in. Already he could tell you were going to be a tight fit, there was going to be some discomfort, but not for long. It didn’t seem like you minded much, with how eagerly your heels dug into the strong muscle of his back, eager to sink him in. His swollen head pushed into you, sinking deeper with one slow push that had him groaning, his head tilting back as he savored the squeeze around his manhood. His free hand massaged lazily at your stomach as he sunk in. You let out the most tantalizing little grunts and moans, soft hisses as your body adjusted to take his massive size. “Soo big,” You whimpered. God if only you knew what you did to him with that tender little voice. He wanted to bury his cock in you forever and stay there until the day he died. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the last few inches in, steadily massaging you while holding himself back. It wasn’t until you tested the fit by rocking your hips back and forth that he finally allowed himself to take pure pleasure in your body. It wasn’t the

slow pace he’d initially wanted. No, as soon as he was in you, he realized how badly he needed this. For every smile and sweet word, he wanted to set a punishing pace. He wanted to completely fold you in half and hammer his way into your body and show just how badly he needed you. But, for the sake of your health, he set a steady pace. He leaned back to look at the place where your body met his and nearly came right there. “Fuck,” He cursed, staring at the lewd way your cunt was stretched out over his cock. “Sit up, just a bit, fuckin’ look at it,” He coaxed you into sitting up, his hand finding its way to the back of your neck again. Your eyes almost glazed over with how eagerly you looked at your coupling. Your plump, tantalizing lip was gnawed at between your pearly whites. Julian drew back his cock with a hiss, his head rolling back again, only to snap to attention, watching the show as he sunk back into your hot, silky insides. “You’re taking me so well, [Y/N]. You’re doing so good,” He grunted out praise after praise, his pace rocking steadily now, your wetness coating him and guiding him in with more ease. Finally, it seemed you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer, instead falling back to moan his name. He doubled over, catching himself again, bracing himself on either side of your head. His pace quickened, he could feel the way his balls slapped against your ass, damp from how wet you were. It made degenerate sounds, slapping skin against skin. It drove him up a wall, almost as much as your blissful expression. He burned the memory of you savoring his cock into the back of his mind, before hooking both of his hands under your knees. With his strength, Julian nearly folded you in half, angling you to where his cock would hit your deepest, most sensitive parts. When he found the place that made you sing loudest, he hammered into it. Not to be ignored, he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, freeing up a hand so that he could reach between the two of you and work diligently at your little bud. “Oh god, oh god, Jules, Julian, fuck, fuck, fuck! I-I’m gonna cum,” And he could feel it when it started, the way you arched your back, your hips taking a mind of their own, jerking up to meet his deep thrusts. Your walls clenched so tightly around him he could barely pull away, but he managed to keep his pace, drilling into you. “Fuckin’ cum around me, cum around me, [Y/N], just like that, just like that,” He grunted, thrusting so hard he was shaking the bed beneath you, the sound only adding to the symphony of sex. The rush of sticky fluids made him pound that much harder into you. Your crying, writhing form the perfect state for him to hammer at until he felt his own familiar band pulling tight, eventually snapping as pleasure overwhelmed him. He didn’t pull out as his cum filled your tight little body. He empty his balls as deep into you as he could, his pulsing manhood twitching with every stream of the load. He only realized as he began to come down from his high he’d came right against your cervix. He shuddered out another low groan, joining your soft panting in the air. “Fuck, Julian, ah, hah. I love you,” You were unabashed now, looking at him with your dazed look, as if he were a god and not some backwater trailer park boy. “I love you too, so much,” He hung over you, his sweaty forehead coming to rest against yours. He breathed with you, coming down from his high to finally ease out of you, ignoring the mess he made in favor of pulling you into his arms. The air slowly quieted as you both lay there, basking in bliss, warm and naked despite no blanket. It was hard to believe that he’d been uncertain of your feelings for him. Just an hour ago, neither of you had been aware of just how quickly things would go. But, there were no regrets. Only love and a sense of safety.