#Clump Collective
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Folly Group "Strange Neighbour" (2023)
director: Clump Collective
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Oh yeah, got to go the farmer's market (when we ship cattle we happen to be doing so beside a farmer's market) today and try a crack at lady luck for stuff at the vendors- sadly nothing on my huntlist at the used book vendor or the rock/mineral vendor, but was expected. The Dragonriders of Pern series is very sought for collectors and Trilobites are a bit unconventional fossils for typical pretty-rock-stock.
There were more plant vendors than I was used to seeing at that market though!
The biggest shocks for me though was one vendor was selling potted white trilliums ($12 for 1 or 2 for $20) and small flowering Magnolias for $30
#let's pray those trilliums were propagated stock and not wild collected but the size of the clumps made me a lil skeptic of the former...#The Magnolias though.... TEMPTED ME SO FUCKING BAD- $30 for a flowering specimen is fucking CHEAP change for a Magnolia#was holding myself back on it and a few other plant species like an owner trying to hold back their giant dog#ramblings#wanted a coughed-up blood gif instead of my choice above but the google results were too..... gorey/serious
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#fairy in the woods#he’s a box actually!#like he lifts off his mushroom clump and it’s hollow#what can you store in there? not much. but it’s neat#toy photography#toy collection
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99% sure a clump of my hair just fell out. okay.
#clump sounds very big. it wasnt a lot#but i looked down at my jacket and on my shoulder was like a collection of hair#is it the stress? is it the bleach? is it the testosterone? who knows
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Ive been presenting a little more feminine over the last few weeks and its getting time to replace the mascara ive been using and.
They've stopped producing it.
#(if anyone remembers Body Collection doing a two-pack of mascara a few years ago)#it was one black and one gold in like curved tubes?#but the wand is perfect and the actual mascara is a bit matte and it doesn't clump and it wipes away so well#yknow when you get some behind the lashes but with some it just smudges when you wipe it#its not a waterproof one i know that bc it washes off pretty well with warm water and soap#the only similar one i can find on the website is the Intense Mascara on the body collection website?#im gonna see if they have it in boots or superdrug on monday#actually im looking down now and it says its. found in wilkos.#y'know. the shop that went bankrupt last month. and shut all its stores.#beauty is pain fr why cant i find the damn make up i want#it looks like no7 does a similar one too but thats like £5 more expensive
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Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.
“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”
God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.
Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.
“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”
“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”
“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”
Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.
“What happened?!”
“My word, master Danny!”
“What is it?!”
“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”
Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.
“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”
“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.
“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.
“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”
The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.
“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”
“Danny.”
“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.
“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.
Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.
“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”
Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…
“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”
“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.
“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”
The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.
“Done.”
“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”
“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”
“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”
“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”
“Very well.”
“Sweet. See you guys later?” Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.
——
“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”
“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.
“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”
“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”
Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.
“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”
“Tt.”
“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”
#danny phantom#danny phantom is a little shit#dc x dp#batman#bruce wayne#jason todd#bamf danny phantom#nightwing#dick grayson#alfred pennyworth#Alfred is ninja#Damian is attached#damian wayne#bruce to the GIW: I don’t kill#behind him: a contingent of his pissed off kids#bruce: but they do#danny dropping trauma and lore in one go: lol#Damian’s way of bonding with people is stabbing#Danny’s used to ghostly violence as a way of being a friendly hello#he sees no issues with being stabbed#everyone else not so much
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Somebody collected lots of sticks to make a big stick tree and lots of silver things for a big chrome life form reflektor!
I used to have a shelf full of my collections. Bottlecaps, spoons, and feathers. Id find them in the street, I never spent money on them.
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The sidewalks in my neighborhood often feature little wandering moss balls. I have noticed them often and wondered about them. In this part of England, there is a lot of moss always, on everything, everywhere; but that’s sedentary moss, unchanging, holding still - practically characterised by its year-round chilling-out-ness. Moss in the pavement cracks, growing along the buildings and front of garden wall; moss in the gardens and the corners between sidewalk and street. but the tumblemosses are not connected to the continuous belts of stay-at-home moss. They are disconnected, tumbleweeds, pilgrim wanderers: appearing suddenly on the pavement and mooching mysteriously on their own journeys. Like aquarium moss balls but without the currents of the water to justify them. They appear in the middle of the sidewalk in the middle of the town.
The children say they are Moss Children who have broken off from their Moss Family. They often pick them up and carry them around, shouting. Occasionally we have had to take them on train journeys (nobody else seems to have Tumblemoss; it seems to be around our neighborhood.) Sometimes the kids want to make terrariums or things, and so we specifically collect the Tumblemoss, since it’s clearly unrooted and not spoiling anything if we take it home(and I’d feel bad for the kids pulling up actual moss.) but the origins of Tumblemoss, or Moss Children, have always been a bit mysterious. They simply appear, like wild land Marimo, enigmatically. An empty sidewalk in the morning suddenly has a perfect round Moss Child in the afternoon.
Today I learned the secret origin of the Tumblemoss. Would you like to guess it?
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Our good friend Jonathan Harker is getting ready to leave for his business trip, Mina Murray is picking out a new journal, Lucy Westenra is charming a gaggle of smitten suitors, Abraham van Helsing is wrapping up his lectures, and Castle Dracula is prepping the guest room for a very long stay.
Which must mean that Dracula Season is here again!
‘Dracula Season’ being a catchall term for the voracious reading, memeing, writing, illustrating, analyzing, and general fun-having that’s ensued since Matt Kirkland’s project, Dracula Daily, caught on with us back in 2022. The Substack had already been running before then, but it sparked a conflagration as time went on and readers old and new to Bram Stoker’s Dracula—the actual novel, not Coppola’s fanfiction—devoured it in a way that scratched an itch none of us knew we had. Stoker wrote the book in epistolary fashion, clumping sections together as needed for the pacing without perfect adherence to chronological order. Matt went ahead and put all the events in order and proceeded to set up a lovely chain of emails that delivered entries on those correlating dates.
This style of organization and pacing turned out to not only make the virtual book club that much easier to engage with, but left space in-between to stew on the story and relate with the characters themselves. Every day of waiting in the book feels weightier when you have to pace and sweat and worry in tandem with poor Jonathan trapped in the castle or Lucy wasting away or Mina running out the clock before she loses the fight for her own humanity. And while we sat with the story or the lulls between Dracula Seasons, some of us found ourselves craving more of that ghastly gothic horror goodness to the point that we figured:
“Well. Why don’t I make something?”
And then we did! Tons of creative works have been churned out in the wake of Dracula Daily’s high. I figured that while we’ve still got a bit of time to wait for May 3rd, we should check out all this new stuff in the meantime. (Plus a handful of neat stuff that just clicks with the Dracula itch overall.)
So, in the interest of Dracula Season pregaming, let’s take a look at…
FICTION
Blood of My Blood – A recent addition to the Dracula Bad Ending AU pile, and definitely one of the most harrowing and addictive group-produced narratives I’ve ever come across, Blood of My Blood is the dramatically gothic currently-WIP work of @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush’s devious design. Give or take a heap of other fascinated folks (hello!) adding ideas to put more Horror into the Horrors that our cast has to face. The premise:
The Transylvanian climax went fatally sour and the Harkers were forced to shelter with Dracula himself, including their half-vampire son, Quincey. Cut to two decades later, and Quincey finds himself out in modern London, smitten with Lu, adopted daughter of Arthur and Jack, and diving into certain bloodstained old documents that detail the real history of how his parents came to live in the castle. Said revelations coming not a moment too soon, as a storm is coming for him straight from the Carpathians…
Dracula Daily Sketch Collection – An array of illustrations that captures every entry beat by beat, the Dracula Daily Sketch Collection by Georgia Cook, alias @georgiacooked was dished out over the course of the last Dracula Season. Some of the most fun character designs out there.
Fanfiction Spotlight: BlueCatWriter – With a whopping 99 works devoted to the novel Dracula (so far, the number may have gone up since I blinked), @bluecatwriter is one of the most prolific and talented fanfiction scribblers out there. Romances, nightmares, and overlaps between the two seem to crop up the most, give or take a crossover. Seems fitting that those blue paw prints have contributed to BoMB too.
The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk – An ongoing comic in which all your favorite characters from the Classics section get together and tackle some perils ranging from the mundane to the monstrous. Started by the amazing @mayhemchicken and posted on @lxgentlefolkcomic, this series is a love letter to beloved Victorian era lit, with a spotlight on the two couples leading the League. Namely, the Harkers, ala Dracula, and the Nortons, ala Sherlock Holmes,’ “A Scandal in Bohemia.” Mina and Irene are the driving investigative and steering forces here, and still deeply in love with their likewise-infatuated husbands, just like in their canons! What a concept! Alan.
Without spoiling the full character list, just know there are going to be a ton of familiar faces roaming around before you finish reading the first arc. Said arc having conveniently wrapped up just a few days ago! Give the comic and its bonus silliness a look if you’re in the mood for a new comfort-adventure epic.
Re: Dracula – Probably the most well-known and incredible thing to come out of the initial Dracula Daily wave. This podcast is a full audio drama that follows the same format as the Substack, with episodes coming out in time with the entries themselves. And it has an unfairly cool soundtrack. They have a Tumblr with @re-dracula, a site and a Patreon to check out before the series kicks up again on May 3rd. (Also, keep an eye out for their next work, an audio drama in the same style with Carmilla.)
The Soldier and the Solicitor – Another treat from @ibrithir-was-here, this one involves a bit of time travel trouble. Quincey Harker has stumbled out of World War I and into the same dark forest where his father once fled for his life…then runs into the man himself, on that same night. Jonathan Harker, young and starved and lost, who has no choice but to trust this stranger while the Weird Sisters are at his heels…despite said stranger having no shadow. It’s a tasty emotional trek, already complete on Tumblr, but now it’s turning into a Webtoon. While Ibrithir is juggling a number of other stories, she’ll be redrawing spruced up versions of the comic and adding a few new scenes as things unfold.
Substack Stack – You know what’s better than one emailed-out public domain book club? A mountain of them. Just. So, so many of them. You’ll see that a lot of these are finished, but some are still ticking along. Either way, they’re all great picks if you’re craving some more old school lit to fill the void between undead emails.
Frankenstein Weekly – Frankenstein
Jekyll and Hyde Weekly – The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
Voyage of the Nautilus – Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea
Letters from Watson – Sherlock Holmes
The Invisible Mail – The Invisible Man
Letters from Bunny – E.W. Hornung’s short stories of the eponymous Bunny and Raffles
Letters Regarding Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster short stories, including the novel, Right Ho, Jeeves
…
……
………
…The Beetle Weekly – The Beetle (NOTE: Do Not Read This.)
The Vampyres – A novella I finally wrenched through the gears of self-publication as of March this year. Starring a petite but powerful paranormal cast, The Vampyres, centers on an unscrupulous undead fellow who finds that the revenants of the world are being mowed down by an entity known only as ‘Quinn Morse.’ Between trying to save his neck and figure out where the shadowy bastard came from, the Vampyre in question crosses paths with a new paramour and handy human shield in the form of a grieving Good Samaritan. He’s even polite enough to invite the Vampyre into his home while he’s in dire straits! Surely this will end well. All the info is available here and a little author site is over here.
What Manner of Man – This is the one made for everyone who started out hoping there’d be a real love story with our good friend Jonathan Harker and the Count when he was at his most charismatic. Where that sea of wonders dried up into a mire of horror, What Manner of Man by @stjohnstarling keeps things firmly on the romantic tracks. This Substack stars the letter-writing priest Father Victor E. Ardelian as he finds himself meeting with one enigmatic Lord Alistair Vane. It isn’t long before interest turns into intrigue and intrigue into undead intimacies.
The entire novel has been completed—along with multiple epilogues in the author’s Patreon, allowing readers to choose for themselves just how the uncanny romance plays out in the end—and the Substack now has a number of other gothic goodies piling up in the meantime.
NONFICTION
Dracula Daily: A Unique Reading Experience: This one comes courtesy of @realwomenofgaming. It’s a short and sweet piece that amounts to a fun snapshot of the entire Dracula Daily ride. A cozy couple-minute read.
‘Dracula Daily’ is the One Substack You Need a Subscription To: Features my favorite Matt Kirkland interview. @mattkirkland, if you’re still floating around on here, thank you for dispatching our vampire newsletter again this year.
Dracula Daily is Tumblr’s hottest new book club: Alright, the ‘new’ part is worn out by now, but this one is still a delightful article to swing back around to. Two years on, this Polygon piece is a time capsule of those early months when people outside our bookworm bubble realized we were all happily receiving letters from our favorite classic gothic horror blorbos.
“How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” – Princess Weekes, if you ever read this, thank you, thank you, thank you. I am sending oceans of love and millions of rewatches to your video essay. If you haven’t seen it yet, “How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” is one of the most refreshing and well-made breakdowns of both the title subject and numerous other issues that have proliferated in the public view of Dracula’s cast and plot as adaptations endlessly warp or outright bastardize the actual novel. An incredibly cathartic watch.
Literary play gone viral: delight, intertextuality, and challenges to normative interpretations through the digital serialization of Dracula: A mouthful of a title for an even more elaborate article about the Dracula Daily phenomenon. This one is a full-on study that analyzes just what happened within the big bloodsucker book club surge and how its ‘wandering reading practices’ enriched the experience for participants.
“The Undying Undead: An analysis of the Dracula Daily community for a theory of online community formation and interaction” – We have a thesis on here! Look at that! @sirangelothebestest’s MA thesis used our vampiric book club as the bones for a massive brick of an academic piece that definitely deserves a look.
…And I think I’ll go ahead and cap things here.
This isn’t everything I got recommended, but if I had squashed all of it in here, I think folks’ eyes would start to fall out of their head. I hope you can find something cool to comb through here. Or, if there’s something great I overlooked, tack it onto the list! We’ve got just two weeks to go until we’re off with Mr. Harker. Let’s enjoy our respite before those castle doors close behind us.
#time for Dracula Season pre-gaming :3#thank you to everyone who sent in their suggestions!#dracula#dracula daily#re: dracula
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“Come here, you dweeb. Let me fix it.”
Will pouts, dragging his feet over and slumping half on top of him. Nico allows it with a smile and a roll of his eyes, pinching Will’s shoulder. He doesn’t react except for a wounded noise, muffled in Nico’s lap, so the situation is evidently quite dire.
“It’s just hair, Will.”
“But I worked on it!” He shifts around until he’s got his head in Nico’s lap, face turned towards him, body curled up on the grass around him. Nico brushes his tangled bangs off his forehead, meeting his big sad eyes. “I spent forty minutes with a stupid brush! And yet!”
“And yet,” Nico agrees, unable to appropriately school is face into one of somber understanding. Will scowls at him for his lack of proper sympathy, a little bit of genuine hurt in his eyes, so Nico leans down and kisses right between his brows in apology. He seems mollified, if only slightly, or at least he leans into Nico’s touch and stops mumbling quite so much.
“‘S’not fair.”
“Mhm.“
“Your hair listens to your instructions.”
“Yep.”
“Even Cecil’s hair listens to him, and no one listens to Cecil.”
Nico purses his lips thoughtfully. “I think Austin listens to Cecil.”
“Yes, I know. It’s an ongoing issue. I’m trying to train him out of it.”
“And how’s that going?” Nico murmurs, curling a strand of golden blond hair around his finger.
“Oh, well, I’m doing my best, so of course it’s going horribly.”
Nico snorts. He resists the urge to hold his palms to Will’s cheeks and kiss every single freckle at light speed, because he will screech something about how Nico is one-upping him in the romance department or something stupid like that. Instead he settles for looking at his dumb dramatic boyfriend’s face and marvelling over the fact that the cutest boy in the entire world, and Nico is being totally objective, hunts around camp until he finds whatever tree Nico is hiding under and curls up into a ball around him and trusts Nico to hold him while he complains about stupid things that genuinely hurt his feelings a little. It’s nice. So many people at camp are still so rigid around him, like he’s collecting information for their judgement day or something. Will prefers to exercise his lesser-known Apollonian talent of being a bigger drama queen than the god himself.
“Stay still,” Nico says softly, moving Will around so he’s laying perpendicular to Nico, now, head centered in his lap and staring up at the sky. Will sighs and squirms a little and turns his head to press a kiss to Nico’s knee, scrunching up his face and releasing it, and then settles in the position.
Humming something soft that exists on the fringes of his foggy memories, he sinks his hands into Will’s hair.
“It’s not that bad,” he promises, moving slowly and pausing whenever he comes across a knot.
Will harrumphs.
“I mean it, Marilyn Monroe. You can tone down the histrionics.”
“I used gel.”
Nico flicks a dried clump of it onto Will’s forehead, amused. “I can see that.”
“I followed every single one of Mitchell’s instructions!”
“I bet.”
“And yet!”
“And, yet.”
Nico has a sneaking suspicion that someone made a comment about Will’s hair, in the last few weeks. He can never confirm it and Will has been shifty about it every time he asks, but Nico has noticed the uptick in hoods and hats the past month and his little flinches every time Nico reaches up and tugs on it. Despite being oddly confident about the oddest things — why he is so proud of being able to fit his fist in his mouth, Nico will never know — Will is very sensitive to how people think of him. He needs to know he’s liked, and when people don’t like him, he gets…desperate, pleasing. The opposite of Nico, who becomes worse in an attempt to push them away on his own terms.
Nico leans down and presses a long, lingering kiss to his forehead.
“I like your hair, you know.”
“It’s a stupid mess.”
He smooths down a handful of it, pressing it over Will’s eye. He manages to keep a straight face for one, two, three seconds before he huffs a laugh, batting Nico’s hands away. Nico grins.
“I like the stupid mess.”
“Yeah, well, you like a lot of weird things.”
“Like you?” Nico suggests, pressing another kiss to the tip of his rounded nose.
“Shut up.”
Another strange thing about him, that Nico has to duck his head to hide his automatic smile: he gets embarrassed easily.
Nico never expected it of him, with all the dorky, medical-themed pickup lines and general shamelessness in his affection towards everybody on Earth, but especially Nico. When the poking, prodding attraction is turned on him, however, he shuts down like an overloaded Playstation. Nico can sometimes see the error messages playing behind its eyes. It’s hilarious.
“Will.” He pokes him in the cheek. “Hey.”
“What,” Will grumbles.
“I think you’re beautiful.”
Watching the slow spread of red from below the collar of his shirt to the roots of his hair is a delight. Nico watches in glee, wrestling Will’s hands away when he tries to slap them over his face.
“Shut up! Leave me alone! Go — flirt with somebody else!”
“You’d curse them to speak in rhymes for ten years,” Nico teases.
Will makes an agonised noise. “Who! Asked you! Shut up!”
“You’d sic Kayla on anyone who so much as winks at me, you jealous bitch.”
“I would not!”
“You would so. You rolled your eyes at everything Percy said for three weeks when you found out I used to crush on him —”
“I did not!”
“— and you didn’t even have the balls to ask me out, back then.”
“You are a — peddler of falsehoods! A prevaricator, a perjurer, and a fabulist!”
“And you sound like you swallowed a thesaurus,” Nico snickers. He catches the hand Will flails at him, pressing a kiss to the wrist, which only serves to fluster him more. He decides to take mercy when the kisses he trails down his arms result in one loud, long, tortured screech, pulling back and giving him some space.
Notably, he doesn’t move from Nico’s lap.
“I like it,” Nico admits, once Will has calmed down some. “I like that you’ve liked me for so long.”
Will peeks through the fingers he has covering his eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Yes.” Nico squeezes his shoulders. “And endearing, which seems to be your sweet spot.” He presses a much softer kiss to the underside of Will’s ear, lingering there until he sighs, slumping under all the tension finally leaving his body. “I love you, Will. I love your clumsiness and your rambles and your nose and your freckles and your awkwardness and your jealousy and your hair and I love you, Will, all of you. Even the embarrassing weird parts.” He kisses him again. “Especially the weird parts.”
Will breathes slowly, carefully, evenly, face pressed to the inside of Nico’s thigh. His long eyelashes tickle his skin. Nico can feel the press of his Adam’s apple when he swallows, pulsing against his calf.
“I never thought you were a freak.”
Nico brushes his knuckles over his cheek. “I know.”
“I used to — talk about you. All the time. And your oxytocin levels.”
He smiles.
“I know.”
“Lee had a — chart.” Some of the flush rises back up in his cheeks. “A ‘Days Since We’ve Heard About Di Angelo’ chart.”
Nico bites his lip. Hard.
“The number never got higher than six.”
“…I am trying really, really hard, Will.”
Will sighs.
“You can laugh.”
Nico cracks up, trying desperately to muffle his giggles in his bitten fist. It doesn’t work very well, but the glare Will sends him is somewhat softened by the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.
“Gods, you are — a mess.”
“Mhm.”
Nico cups the side of his face. Will turns, slightly, enough to press a kiss to the centre of his palm and then stay there, eyes closed, breathing against his sword-callused skin.
“I love you too, by the way. Obviously.”
“I know.”
“Don’t Han Solo me, you bastard.”
“Go ahead and try to stop me,” Nico challenges, grinning into the passionately indignant kiss Will presses to his lips, finally, letting Nico curl his hands in his hair.
#i’m in love w rizzed up nico i’m sorry will is such a flailing mess there’s no way he’s the one with game#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#hoo#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#i’ll acknowledge that will does actually have a fair bit of game but#as soon as nico figures out how to exploit his dorkiness. cmon.#bro as soon as nico finds out how long will has liked him 😭😭 he’s done for fr#nico di angelo/will solace#nico/will#will/nico#solangelo#established solangelo#fluff#100 ways#100 ways to say i love you#whipped will solace#whipped nico di angelo#down bad will solace#will solace#nico di angelo#my writing#longpost
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tender
lee know x reader, hurt/comfort | m.list
wc: 1.4k | warnings: themes of depression and struggling with mental health
a/n: this fic is a little self indulgent as i haven't been feeling great lately. so i hope this brings comfort to anyone who needs it ♡
you don’t remember how long you’ve been sitting in the tub. you’re sure your hands have pruned and wrinkled due to the prolonged time you have been in here, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care.
the sides of your head pulses as a migraine at the forefront of your temple starts to fully form. you had hoped a moment of reprieve in the bath would calm your nerves and ease your headache, but it had yet to do so.
the droplets fall slowly against your furrowed eyebrows and taut expression, dripping freely down on your chin and on the dewy expanse of your chest. both arms are splayed limply across the sides of the tub, staring blankly ahead at the white tiled walls above, unmoving.
the temperature was warm, too warm for your usual liking but you didn’t seem to mind today, welcoming the dull pain it brought. the white tiles that you’ve been staring at for what seemed like forever stared back at you.
the silence was deafening.
a lot has been on your mind lately. the restless and constant feeling of not being good enough and comparing yourself to others caused you to no longer find enjoyment in the things you used to love doing.
words that usually meant nothing had stuck themselves inside your head as well, dissecting every meaning when they had none. sleep did not come easily to you these nights, tossing and turning, failing to succumb into the comforting arms of sleep.
isolation became your company in these moments, withdrawing yourself from everything. missing out on a lot of stuff, in turn, made you feel worse than you already did.
you knew you should probably tell someone about your problems but you just couldn't find it in yourself to do it. the last thing you wanted to be was a bother.
some days are admittedly better than others, where you’re able to get things done, to do your obligations and continue on with life like normal. but when you least expect it, it creeps up on you, pulling you back into that unhealthy head space.
you tried to force these thoughts and feelings down for a long time, pretending that everything was fine. today was apparently the day it all came rising up, unable to keep a lid on your bubbling emotions.
a sense of dread hung over your head, eyes aching from all the crying you did. wet strands of hair had clumped together, obscuring your view, perturbed by how sometimes your skin doesn't feel like yours.
“y/n?”
the bathroom starts to fog with mist, clouding the glass and mirrors, the water slowly scalding your skin. the call to sink down into the water and never come up are louder than ever.
“-y/n? are you in there?” a voice makes itself known. lifting yourself up a little bit, startled at the faintest sound of knocks.
you forget that minho would be home around this time. a hand flies towards your forehead to ease the pounding pain. shit, you haven't started making dinner.
it takes a while before you answer, collecting yourself as to not sound as shaky. “yeah! just finishing up, i'll be out in a sec.”
“don’t get out, i'll join you.” he yells back, the sound of padding feet against the wooden floors reverb through out the apartment. your eyes flicker at his sudden decision, causing you to sigh and sink down into the water once more.
as much as you adored and love him and how most days would let him join you with no hesitation, you silently hoped that he wouldn't today. you couldn't bear to let him see you in this state, all disheveled and puffy eyed. but it was rare when he was even home, given his grueling schedule.
so you wait for him patiently to come over to your shared bathroom, hugging your legs tightly. you remember to turn the cold tap on and off before he enters, water droplets filling in the silence.
when he finally creaks open the door with nothing on but a bathrobe and a silly cat headband that kept his hair away from his forehead on, you can't help but smile even if it doesn't quite reach your eyes.
you inch farther into the corner, making space for him quietly as he gets in. if he had noticed the temperature of the water that had yet to cool down, he made no attempt to comment.
the two of you don't say anything for the time being, just in each other's corner, relaxing and leaning your arms on the cool edge of the tub.
“you’re quiet.” his voice echoes. minho’s voice cuts through the silence, a stark contrast to the quietness of the bathroom just moments ago.
“i’m sorry.”
feeling minho’s heavy unwavering gaze into the side of your head, you can’t help but feel awful. you don’t mean to be so curt with him, but any more words from your mouth frightens you, afraid that the underlying shakiness of your voice will give you away.
your eyes still keep averting his, afraid of what expression he might bore. will he look at you with pity? with a tired gaze of disappointment?
he does not. instead, minho grabs one of the lavender scented shampoo bottles placed neatly on the shelf and gestures for you to turn around. you follow his request, albeit apprehensively, turning around.
“there we go.” he says. even if you refuse to meet his eyes, you could tell he was smiling as he said it.
minho takes great care to shampoo your hair, his blunt nails gently raking over your scalp, unknowingly soothing your dreadful headache. minho is observant, very much so. it doesn’t surprise you at all anymore when he suddenly asks.
“what’s wrong, hmm?” he finally says amidst the stillness of the atmosphere, tone dripping of comfort as his hands continue to lightly massage through your soapy tresses. you lean into it like a desperate cat, melting at his simple touch. oh how you've yearned for his touch.
although you don’t answer, his intuitive nature already knows that something was amiss.
“you know i’m always here for you.” minho says, pressing a delicate kiss on your shoulder. his sweet words and murmurs of comfort act like a salve to your aching heart as tears start to gather at your lash line once again.
you always hated making him worry.
the overwhelming emotion brings you to tears, immense guilt ebbing at your seams. minho places his head on your shoulder as you cry, hands running up and down your sides in an attempt to soothe you.
he doesn't deserve this, to be left out, to not know the reason you're so distant lately. he trusted you and you trusted him. so you spill every little thing to him.
voice starting to rasp, your stuttering cries now unrestraint without fear of judgement and just allowing yourself to be vulnerable. salty tears start to meld together with the water in the tub, rippling as they fall. at last, you feel lighter. the weight that you carried for so long in your heart doesn't have to be carried alone.
after a while, the hiccupping in your throat and the tears start to subside, leaving you a sniffling mess. turning around to finally face him, you fought the urge to hide in your hands.
"feel a little better now?" minho looks at you with nothing but a loving smile, no underlying judgement, just adoration, and one that makes you dive into him. you feel so utterly loved, what did you do to deserve him?
your arms wrap around his neck, placing apologetic kisses on his lips. he reciprocates, hands going around your back to steady your form. your mouth tumbles out watery apologies as he caresses the skin of your nape, gentle as he can.
you release him, arms still hooked around his neck, looking deeply into his eyes as if he's the center of the universe, and to you, he is. "i love you." the edges of your vision cloud with the tell tale signs of drowsiness, finally finding it in yourself to relax in his hold.
and he lets you, guiding your head to rest on his broad chest, the steady beats of his heart thumping against your temple, grounding you, his feathery light touches lingering.
feelings like these come and go, but minho is a constant that you keep close to your heart.
“thank you for putting up with me.”
"of course, i love you too."
#lee know x reader#lee minho x reader#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#stray kids x you#skz imagines#lee know skz#stray kids angst#lee know angst#skz angst#skz x you
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Constantly teasing hobie brown with inconsistent pace and feminization, cause hobie doesn't believe in labels and consistency 🗣��❗
this ask genuinely made me melt when i got it gosh
just switching up your pace from leisurely fucking into him to treating him as if he were a toy for your use. the inconsistency would make him nearly sob as he begs you to stick to one or the other, or simply let him cum.
and don’t even get me started on dressing him up a little!! putting him in mascara or eyeliner that you know with be sure to run down his cheeks because you fully intend on making him cry.
hobie would whine from underneath you as you slowed down your pace once again, choking out a sob as his thighs wrapped themselves around your waist like a vice. one of his hands grabbed at your shoulder while the other gripped the sheets.
“please, love, please,” he mutters, “i can’t take it anymore, i can’t come like this.” he cries, and the mascara runs even more. “what’s the matter? i thought you hated consistency sweet girl?” you’d tease, using a thumb to smear at his cheeks where the makeup has clumped up a little.
he’s cry out at the name, clenching around you and pulling you even closer if possible. “i don’t- i’m-“ his brain would nearly be turned to absolute mush. and soon he’d be mindlessly apologizing as if that would get you to give into his wishes.
you fake a pout towards him and you knew that if he was capable of doing anything besides moaning, he’d be calling you every british insult in the book. “you seem so upset love, maybe i should be nice this time,” you’d murmur, collecting his hands in yours and pressing them into the sheets as you picked up your pace.
#answered#dom male reader#dom!reader#top male reader#avengers x male reader#marvel x male reader#avengers x reader#sub!hobie#sub!hobie brown#sub hobie#sub hobie brown#sub!atsv#across the spiderverse x male reader
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Alhaitham making his little sister ride her stuffed toy for him! grinding her pussy on one of her favourites as she whines about how it’s gonna ruin her favourite stuffie!
⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ warnings ꒱ྀི incest. infantilization. handjob. brief blowjob. pillow humping ﾉ 18+
“this is so unfair .”
you’d cross your arms if they weren’t currently occupied. reluctantly, one hand knits into the bedsheets to keep yourself in place. the other commits to slow sensual strokes of his cock, timed with the messy ruts of your pussy, defacing the once pale pink bunny.
the innocent stuffed animal with beady eyes, now the color of mulberry from your arousal, was ruined. if you didn’t know your big brother so well, you’d easily miss the subtle flicker of mirth in his blue-green eyes.
“how is it unfair? I'm playing with you just as you asked.”
you narrow your eyes at him, but its merely an undignified expression when the stuffed bunny's hard nose pokes your clit.
“t-this is not — hmmph— what I meant.”
his eyes lower and the side of his lip upturns. it’s not audible, but he’s laughing at you. you’re certain of it, and his cock only hardens in your grasp.
“y’got me ruining mr.cuddles. . .” you grumble.
“I can buy you another.”
a curse dies on the tip of your tongue just as frustration settles from his retort. the last thing you want is to add to your torment. as promising as it could be, al haitham had an immeasurable amount of self-control.
he’d wring your little cunt dry, and you don’t think you could handle much more of his teasing, but god, the poor creature was soiled.
you know how much embarrassing you arouses him and you sure don’t miss the pre-cum that deliciously clumps at the tip of his member. you know it’s at your expense because he throbs within your palm.
his fingers, veiny and all encompassing, cup the back of your head, slightly tugging at the roots of your hair.
it doesn’t hurt, but there’s enough pressure to signal his intolerance of your potential defiance.
“enlighten me. tell me what you meant.”
your head lolls back, staring at the scribe with tears blurring your vision. you thumb his tip and whine when you feel a dollop of his warm seed land on your thigh.
“when you told me you wanted to play, let me guess . . . did you mean on . . . my cock ?”
theres a swirl of something you can only describe as unadulterated desperation at his show of mockery. there’s a sardonic glint as he soaks in how pretty you look jerking him off.
you nod stiffly. “u-uh huh.”
but he only feigns pity.
“that’s too bad, isn’t it ?” he reaches down to grip your backside. he lifts you slightly and sees crystal strings of wetness connecting from your cunt to poor mr.cuddles.
“look at that mess,” the scribe whispers, and that only fuels your need to bury yourself under your sheets.
“this isn’t what you wanted and yet, you’re dripping . . .” he shakes his in farce disappointment, “but nevertheless, let’s problem solve.”
he lets go of you to stop your hand from stroking his leaking member.
he firmly grabs himself, pumping his swollen cock slowly — roughly, until a pretty coat of pre-cum envelops his tip.
he points his throbbing appendage towards your mouth, pressing it towards your quivering lips. he wipes his head messily around the surface until trails of slick begins to glisten.
you physically resist the urge to suck and swallow even when the faint taste of salt drips on your tongue.
there’s a deep hum when you meet his wanton stare.
“would you have more fun if I put my cock in your little mouth instead ?”
you mewl. god, you can smell him. it’s a rich and musky scent mingled with a woodsy vanilla.
your mouth collects spit as he continues to drag his fat tip down the seam of your plump lips.
his cock is just as pretty as the rest of him. it’s wide with an odd number of veins running down his length. it wilts from its own weight despite being so hard.
his eyes glaze over, chuckling before he answers for you, “yeah, of course you would,” he murmurs. “you’d suck it just like how you suck those lollipops.”
al haitham rubs at your scalp, dragging your head so his member slides against the opening of your mouth. by now, you’re panting like needy pup with your tongue lapping up the underside of his cock.
“what if —“ his eyes flicker down to between your thighs, “I put it right here ?”
his fingers skillfully slide past your overstimulated clit to nestle in your little hole. you breathe out a loud sigh of relief when they slowly sink in, stretching your tight walls.
“h-haithy. . .” your mouth parts as meek cries fall from your sweet lips, breath fanning his dick.
“oh, what cute sounds. is this what you want ?”
“mhm. . . I dooooo,” you drawl.
your hand tangles around his wrist. it was a brave action, but he didn’t seem to mind. you were insatiable at this point as you unabashedly hump his thick fingers, chasing your own pleasure.
“I wan’ it, h-haithy. need your cock inside me.”
slick sticks to your thighs and your cunt audibly squeezes around his digits until he suddenly halts his movement.
“what do you do when you want something ?”
you sniffle, “u-use my big girl words.”
al haitham gives you a subtle look of approval.
“precisely.”
he falls silent, giving you a chance to speak but you remain hushed at first. rather, you’d let your actions allow him to draw his own conclusions.
you pull away to position yourself on your back, his fingers slipping out of your warmth.
he watches you closely, anticipating your next move.
your arms come behind your knees, revealing both of your pretty holes. delicate fingers part your puffy folds like pages of his books, displaying the gaping hole he was moments away from fucking.
with pursed lips and gleaming eyes, you ask just like how he taught you.
“big brother . . . can you please make me cum on your cock ?”
your tight pussy clenches around nothing, pushing out a stringy rivulet of creamy white.
there’s a crack in his composure.
al haitham effortlessly pulls his shirt over his head. his strong abdomen on display flexes with every breath he takes. it’s intimidating how stalks towards you, inching towards the bed with purpose.
he’s eager to mount you, his sweet little sister with a perfect ass, and a fat wet cunt he’d milk over and over again.
#૮꒰ ๑´ତ `๑ ꒱ྀིა#tw:incest#srry Im so bad at endings eeeek#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#al haitham x y/n#alhaitham x female reader#alhaitham x reader smut#al haitham x reader smut#al haitham x reader#al haitham x you#alhaitham x reader
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The Devil at Your Window |1: Snowed In|
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 8k
Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty
Series summary: In the middle of a New York City blizzard, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen accidentally lands himself on your fire escape–quite literally. When he accepts your invitation to warm up inside your apartment, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows all night with the curious and attractive masked vigilante. He's intriguing, though what you find even more intriguing is his unexpected returns to your window after that night–and his flirting. But when it seems like you're not the only one beginning to develop real feelings, he pulls back and you're left wondering two things: Why did he disappear and who really is the mysterious Devil that you've inevitably fallen for?
a/n: Just a short collection of one shots that I'll update whenever the ideas strike. It'll be told in a style like Falling for the Devil but it won't get nearly as long (unless y'all end up loving it, too). I just couldn't deny giving us all the fantasy of black suit Matt reappearing at your apartment window and all the flirting, sexual tension, feelings, and naughty things that might ensue... The installment list for this little series can be found here and feedback is always appreciated!
Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer
Picking up the steaming mug of tea you’d just finished making from off the kitchen counter, you cradled your other hand around the warmth of the ceramic and drew it towards your chest as you turned and headed back towards your living room. The small spot of heat against the front of your sweatshirt caused a shiver to run down your spine as your sock-clad feet padded along the cold hardwood floor and back towards your couch.
It was freezing inside your apartment tonight and the blustering snow storm raging outside in Hell’s Kitchen wasn't helping. Thankfully your office had already announced its closure for tomorrow before you'd finished work earlier this evening. The snow had already started to dump from the sky before you’d even left the office, falling heavy and wild as it accumulated in a cover of white that blanketed everything in the city. It would have been beautiful if you hadn’t needed to walk home afterwards in the frigid mess–especially with the way the large clumps of snowflakes pelted and battered you in the face over and over, the cold stinging at your skin.
The city was expected to get a whopping eighteen inches of snowfall minimum over the next twenty-four hours, so you were grateful that your boss wanted as little to do with making it into work tomorrow as you did, especially because you couldn’t afford to do anything but walk to the office. The last thing you wanted to do was trudge through all of that mess and slip on a patch of ice, inevitably falling in a massive pile of snow and leaving you stuck in damp dress clothes all day.
No, you'd rather stay dry and cozy at home enjoying a lazy day off of work.
You were just hoping the power in your apartment building remained intact throughout the fury of the winter storm. You didn’t want to think about losing the heat in your building in the middle of all of this. Another shiver ran through you as you pushed the thought away–hopefully not something you’d need to worry about tonight.
But since you didn’t have work first thing in the morning, you had every intention of enjoying your night. You’d immediately come home and thrown off your dress clothes before settling on something comfortable–soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt sans bra underneath. Then you’d made dinner and cleaned it up fast before claiming your ‘spot’ for the evening on your couch. Which consisted of both of your blankets and the television remote while you binged a guilty pleasure show that you hadn’t had time to catch up on for the past few weeks. Tonight you were intending to stay up a bit late, cozy up beneath your blankets, drink some hot tea, and lose yourself in the plot and romance of the show before eventually dragging your tired ass to bed in the hopes of sleeping in tomorrow to make up for staying up late.
Eyes focused on the paused television screen as you moved, you rounded the side of your couch while drawing your steaming mug up to your lips. You sipped at the warm liquid, reveling in it for a moment before you swallowed it down. You could feel it heat you from the inside out as a pleasant sensation washed over you. Your eyes closed briefly for a moment–it was the first time you’d actually felt warm today.
Opening your eyes, you continued towards the couch and began to lower yourself down onto the cushions while trying not to spill any of your tea from the mug. Just as you were about to sit back down on the couch and cocoon yourself in both of your blankets, ready to settle in for more of your show, something outside the window to your right caught your attention. Your head spun in the direction just as a flash of black dashed past the window and a loud bang reverberated through your apartment.
A frightened yelp slipped out of you at the sound and you clutched your mug tight to your chest, your heart thudding heavily in terror. Whatever had just literally dropped onto your fire escape had been large, especially with the sound of that impact. Sucking in a breath, you held it as you stared transfixed at the window, almost ridiculously terrified it would be some sort of wild animal–like a bear or a wolf–on your fire escape.
Though, more realistically considering you were in New York City, you knew it was probably a burglar. Who else would be traversing fire escapes late at night? Especially dressed in all dark clothes? Except…that also seemed a little ridiculous, too. There was a literal blizzard happening outside, meaning everyone would be home. In their apartments. Making it impossible for a burglar to break into anyone’s place unseen. Plus, it was insane outside, what criminal would risk dealing with that right now?
So what the hell had just fallen onto your fire escape?
Another thought struck you soon after and your lips parted in shock at the idea as you blew out the breath you’d been holding. With trembling hands, you very slowly reached out, carefully placing your mug of tea onto the coffee table before you without taking your eyes off of your window. Gradually, almost nervously, you rose to your feet before taking hesitant step after hesitant step forward. Another sharp, surprised gasp flew out of you when you saw the dark figure sit upright on your fire escape, bent in half as if they were in pain. Which made sense, considering the fall they’d just taken.
But your body froze up instantly at the sight of the man dressed in all black bent in half and dusted in white patches of snow. He wasn’t a burglar at all. With the black cloth tied over his head and the form fitting shirt he was wearing, there was absolutely no mistaking who he was. You'd certainly seen enough images of him plastered across the media.
The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had just fallen onto your fire escape.
Eyes widening in shock at the infamous vigilante attempting to pull himself up to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding onto the metal railing of your fire escape, you were suddenly overcome with the urge to check on him. To make sure he wasn’t seriously injured from that fall.
Without thinking your actions through, you crossed the last few steps to the window and unlatched the locks before pushing it up. The masked figure immediately spun towards you at the sound as a bitter gust of wind burst its way into your apartment, chilling you instantly while those thick snowflakes once again assailed your face. For a moment you locked eyes with him–or at least, it seemed like you did despite the fabric covering half of his face–as your mouth hung open. You suddenly found yourself at a loss of what to say in the moment. And considering the way his lips thinned out along his face and the way he remained silent, he clearly wasn’t going to strike up a conversation with you, either.
Eyes darting down, you saw he had one gloved hand clutching at his right side as if it hurt him. His shoulders were hunched in on himself as his back faced the violent winds blowing snow relentlessly. Seeing him in person for the first time ever–something you’d never expected in your life considering how elusive the media made him out to be–you realized just how thin and unprotective his clothes really were. Especially tonight considering the cold weather. He had to be freezing.
An icy wind whistled loudly, another flurry of heavy snowflakes pelting you right in the face and breaking you from your thoughts. Blinking the snow from your lashes, you finally found your voice.
“Are you alright?” you asked hesitantly, unsure how one should approach the masked man. “I just–just saw you fall. It looked like it hurt.”
He gave a curt shake of his head, wincing before he turned more towards the railing. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he replied.
Something warm flooded your veins at the gravelly tone of his voice. It suited him somehow, even if it sounded fake. Like he was pitching his voice lower to sound like someone else in order to hide his identity. Not that you'd probably have recognized him anyway.
With his back partially to you now, especially this close when there was barely a few feet of space between the pair of you, you could see just how incredibly muscular this man was. His black shirt clung to him like a second skin, the toned abdominal muscles on his upper body clearly visible even from just his profile. Even the pectoral muscles of his chest were well defined and visible beneath the sheen of black. His arms were thick–far too big for just one of your hands to wrap around. And as your gaze lingered lower, you fought back the thoughts that entered your mind at the sight of how large his thighs were in those tight pants–and how pleasant a profile his ass also had. You wondered briefly if he'd gained all that from working out or if it had more to do with his nightly activities.
Though when you saw him grab onto the metal railing of your fire escape with both of his gloved hands, the movement drawing your attention away from observing him as he attempted to swing himself over it, you nearly screamed as you lurched forward. You lived on the fifth floor, was this man really about to fling himself off of the fire escape from all the way up here?
But the scream died in your throat the moment he cried out in pain, his feet slipping from off of the railing as he fell back onto your fire escape. He let out a hiss of pain as he clutched at his clearly injured side.
“Holy shit,” you breathed out, shoving the window open wider despite the cold and snow and leaning further forward. “You’re clearly not okay. Do you need something? An ambulance or something? Is there someone I can call? Or–or something I can do to help?”
The man rolled off his injured side and onto his back, gradually turning towards you as he lay on the fire escape. You hadn’t expected the amused and pained chuckle he emitted while the snow accumulated on the entire front of him, lightly covering the thin layer of his black shirt. Which you’d noticed had ridden up, revealing a small sliver of skin just above the dark, form fitting pants he was wearing. You tried hard to not keep glancing back at that patch of skin as it slowly rose higher and higher, unsure why you were so distracted by it.
The sound of his amusement soon drew you back to the moment and you cringed. Why the hell was he laughing?
“Are you alright? Did you…hit your head?” you asked him cautiously. “Maybe you have a concussion…”
Another amused sound slipped out of him, but that was quickly followed by a pained groan as he tried to once again rise up onto his feet. “I don’t have a concussion,” he assured you.
“You sure?” you asked, an eyebrow arching onto your forehead as you crossed your arms over your chest to stay warm when you began to shiver from the cold. “Because this doesn’t seem like a funny situation to me.”
“Well,” he grunted out, wincing as he drew back up to his full height, “normally I’m the one offering assistance, not the other way around. So yeah,” he continued with a faint shrug, your eyes once again catching the way he was holding his side, “it’s kind of amusing. In an…irritating sort of way.”
Your heart sank to your stomach at his words. “Oh, sorry,” you muttered, heat rushing up to your face instantly. “I didn’t mean to be annoying. I was just concerned–”
He took a half step forward, cutting you off as he waved a hand between the pair of you. He shook his head, letting out a slight huff of laughter. “No, I didn’t mean you were irritating. Just…this situation. The–the snow and the falling part.” In a quieter voice he added, “And having an audience for it.”
Chewing the inside of your cheek, you stood there studying him for a moment. He was injured and wearing barely anything at all in the middle of a blizzard. He looked like he needed help even if he seemed like the type not to ask for it.
“Do you want to come inside?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. “I mean, to get warm and maybe sit down for a moment? I could call an ambulance or–or a taxi or something to bring you to a hospital.”
Another amused huff of laughter slipped out of him as he shook his head. “No hospitals, please. I’ll be alright. But…if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind a moment to warm up.” His gloved hand lowered, pinching a bit of fabric from his shirt as he glanced down at it. “Admittedly this doesn’t offer much protection from the elements.”
You eyed the thin material between his gloves doubtfully. “Doesn’t look like it offers much protection from anything,” you told him.
A surprised bark of laughter peeled out of him, the sound drawing a smile onto your face. You’d made the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laugh. Now that was something you weren’t going to forget anytime soon. He didn’t seem like the type to break character easily.
“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he agreed, his laughter subsiding.
Taking a step back from the window, you waved a hand towards him, gesturing for him to come inside. “How about you come in so I can close this window and we both can stop freezing?” you suggested, surprised at how bold you sounded considering who it was you were speaking with. “I’m shivering already so I can only imagine how cold you must be.”
You watched as his lips curled up into a charming grin at the corners, just beneath the black fabric of his mask. It was impossible to deny that he had a handsome face–at least, from what you could see of it. You imagined the rest of it to be just as attractive beneath that cloth and a sudden intense curiosity to know what the rest of it looked like overtook you as you watched him carefully climb through your opened window. He moved slowly, wincing in pain as he made his way inside. Despite his tough act, that fall must’ve really hurt his side and you frowned, wishing he’d accept your offer to help. There was no way he was as fine as he claimed to be, surely he needed medical attention.
“Takes a special kind of person to just invite me into their home so readily,” the Devil’s rough tone came out as he turned his back to you, shutting the window after himself. “Normally people prefer to avoid me.”
“You’re not dangerous,” you replied almost instantly.
The window closed with a sharp clack before his masked face turned over his snow-dusted shoulder, his attention fixed on you. “Oh?” he asked curiously, a smirk growing over his lips. “I’m not?”
Your eyes were drawn to his mouth, though it wasn’t like there was anywhere else to look when you spoke to him with that mask covering most of his face. The smirk appeared teasing, and for some reason that had the hair on the back of your neck bristling. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra beneath your loose sweatshirt and it was now cold in your apartment. Quickly your arms wrapped over your chest, hugging yourself tight. His lips almost seemed to curl ever higher in response.
“I mean, you are ,” you amended, “but to, you know, criminals.”
You swallowed hard when he remained still, gazing at you over his shoulder wordlessly.There was something almost predatory in the way he was studying you. It was easy to see how this lone man terrified the criminals on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, striking fear into them. He certainly had a presence. Goosebumps rippled beneath the sleeves of your sweatshirt at his continued silent stare.
“Right?” you asked tentatively, voice softer.
His smirk vanished as the other corner of his mouth curled upwards into what felt like a warm smile despite you being unable to see if it reached his eyes. He nodded gently, turning slowly back towards you as he did.
“That's correct,” he agreed, brushing the snow from his broad shoulders. “I’m only dangerous to criminals. So unless you’re hiding any dead bodies or have some outstanding charges…?”
You laughed, though abruptly you snatched your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to quiet the noise instantly. He was witty and funny. You weren’t anticipating that. Or the way your reaction to his quips seemed to please him, like he was trying to charm you. Which seemed even more curious, considering who he was and what he spent his nights doing.
“Can't say that I do,” you said. “I'm probably the most boring person in Hell’s Kitchen.”
“Well now,” he replied teasingly, “don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you're not taking that title all by yourself.”
That charming smile was back on his face and it had your stomach fluttering. Tearing your eyes away from him, you noticed the television was still paused on your show. Paused on a scene where the two actors on screen were clearly about to kiss. Cheeks burning, you hurried over and grabbed the remote from the couch and turned it off.
“You can make yourself comfortable if you want,” you told him, trying to keep the embarrassment out of your tone. “I've got a couple of blankets you can use to help warm you up.”
His heavy boots thudded with each of his steps as he crossed the room and made his way to the couch. You bent over, grabbing both blankets from your place on the couch where you'd previously been curled up as he passed behind you. The moment one of his cold gloves brushed against your back, you froze.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“No it's–it's fine,” you replied.
He passed behind you before settling onto the opposite end of the couch from where you had clearly taken residence. You forced a smile onto your face as you turned and leaned over, holding out the blankets towards him.
Pull yourself together , you internally chastised yourself. Just because it's been a while since you've had a man here doesn't mean you need to react to every little thing. That's not what this is, obviously.
“Thank you,” he said, accepting the blankets from your outstretched hand.
You nodded before sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch, keeping space between you and him. Curling your legs up under yourself, you watched as the Devil wasted no time throwing both blankets around himself, beginning to visibly shiver beneath them as he tried to warm up.
“Are you sure you don't want me to call anyone?” you asked him.
“No one to call,” he answered. “And a hospital would defeat the purpose of trying to remain anonymous.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” you muttered, glancing away and spotting the forgotten tea on your coffee table. “Would you like something to drink at least? Some water or some hot tea, maybe?”
His masked head tilted curiously to the side at your question, a grin returning to his plush lips. “Playing hostess?” he asked.
“Well I'm sure you've got to be thirsty running around Hell’s Kitchen and fighting criminals all the time,” you explained. “I always sort of wondered if you stashed water bottles around the city or stopped for water breaks somewhere–not where you live, I imagine. Since you're trying to keep your identity hidden.” Your eyes narrowed as you added, “Or do you just let yourself get dehydrated every time you're out? Because that's not good for you, you know.”
The Devil's grin grew wider as he shifted on the couch, facing you even more from his place on the cushions. “Oh?” he asked, curiosity in his tone. “You've thought about me before, have you?”
Eyes dropping down to your lap, you smiled sheepishly as you shrugged. “I mean, I've had some theories circulating about you ever since you kept reappearing in the news,” you admitted awkwardly. “Sort of hard not to.”
“Well now you have to indulge me,” he teased. “Enlighten me on some of these theories of yours.”
Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you continued to avoid his covered stare. “I mean, they're not that interesting…”
“Oh come on,” he tried again. “It's not like we don't have the time. And maybe I can confirm or deny some of them for you. Besides, I admit I’m curious to know what you think of me. Especially being so willing to offer help like you did.”
Chewing your bottom lip, you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes. He looked far less intimidating beneath your blush pink blanket now. What would it hurt if you told him a few of your ideas about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? Maybe he might laugh at them, but would hearing that sound again be all that bad? And it truly would be interesting to learn more about the mysterious vigilante, something you'd probably never have the opportunity to do again.
“Okay,” you agreed with a nod. Straightening up on the couch, you turned to face him more fully. “So I've always thought with the way that you fight that you were trained by some sort of secret ninja assassin organization.”
A hearty chuckle filled your living room at your first theory. The pleasant and resonant noise left you grinning as your stomach fluttered in response. You briefly wondered how often the Devil actually laughed when he was out.
“I cannot confirm nor deny that,” he responded.
The playful smile that kept appearing on his face was beginning to further disarm you. You found yourself enjoying his company, soon becoming used to the way half his face was hidden from sight with that ridiculous fabric. And for some reason your unexplainable attraction to him was only growing.
“Next theory,” he prodded, the smile on his face apparent even in his voice.
“You're not wealthy,” you stated, leaning forward and grabbing your tea from the coffee table.
“Oh, ow,” he joked, playfully recoiling back from you on the couch. “What makes you say that?”
You waved a hand at him across from you as you settled back into the cushions, mug in hand. “Because you wear clothing that is obviously not meant to protect you very well in a fight,” you answered. “I imagine if you had money you'd have something…nicer. Meant for what you do. And,” you continued, pausing long enough to drink down some of your now barely warm tea, aware of him focused on you, “you protect Hell’s Kitchen. Only Hell’s Kitchen. This part of the city isn't exactly filled with the wealthiest people. And with how dedicated you are to everyone here, I assume it's because you probably grew up here yourself. Most likely still reside here, too.”
The Devil hummed appreciatively when you'd quieted, his masked gaze still on you. You swore you could feel it as you drank down more of your tea.
“You're observant,” he mused. “Maybe I need to watch myself around you.”
A surge of pride swelled in your chest; you hadn't expected his praise. Or the way it would make you feel. And apparently, you'd guessed something right about him.
“You're also not married or in a serious relationship,” you blurted before you could help yourself, wondering what more you could learn about him.
“Poor and unlovable?” the Devil asked with a surprised laugh. “That's what you think of me?”
“No,” you disagreed, laughing a little with him as you shook your head. “No, but I mean, I imagine you don't have time for someone else. And I figure most people wouldn’t like their partner going out and doing what you do. Putting yourself in danger.”
“Mmm,” he hummed out, shifting on the couch and making himself more comfortable. “A partner would certainly be…a distraction. A liability. One I couldn't really afford to have. So no, you're not wrong, I don't have one.”
You glanced down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the mug in your hands. Half of you was hoping to hear that he wasn't with anyone–though you refused to admit to yourself why that mattered–but the other half of you had heard the way he'd said that a partner would be a distracting liability and you’d felt a sad pang hit you in the chest. Considering how much he seemed to be enjoying your company when he didn't even know you had you guessing that the Devil was a lonely man deep down.
But that wasn't a theory you felt comfortable sharing.
“Any others?” he asked, breaking through your thoughts.
Clearing your throat, you focused back on him across the couch from you. His smile had disappeared, his lips now downturned at the corners just a bit. His posture had changed in your silence, the same as his mood, as if he'd picked up on the subtle change in yours somehow.
Strange.
“I imagine you're the kind of guy who's fridge is always empty,” you answered.
A ghost of a smile reappeared on his face as he huffed out an amused breath. You couldn't fight the smile returning to your own lips at the sight of his again.
“Well hey now,” he countered lightly, “there's usually beer. Sometimes orange juice and eggs.”
You giggled, unable to stop yourself. “Who'd have guessed the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is just your average bachelor?”
“Average?” he repeated in mock offense, his head tilting to the side. “I'm just average now?”
Quirking a brow at him in a challenging manner, your own head cocked to the side. “Maybe tell me more about yourself and I could say otherwise,” you boldly teased back.
“Well obviously,” he began, grinning at you in a way that had your body heating, “I can't exactly do that now can I? Defeats the purpose–
“Of remaining anonymous,” you finished for him. “I've picked up on the importance of that.”
A silence soon settled between the pair of you, one that slowly began to cause your nerves to grow with the way he kept smiling at you. Once again you desperately found yourself wanting to see the rest of his face, curious to know just how handsome he really was under that black mask. Though you settled for studying what you could see, your eyes tracing the soft curves of his pink lips, noticing the way they very minutely twitched under your scrutiny. Eventually your gaze dropped down, following the hard lines of his stubbled jaw. As your eyes trailed further down, they lingered on the part of his neck that wasn't covered by the blankets he’d wrapped around himself for warmth. A heat burned in you as the urge to reach out and just touch him, just to see if he was real, suddenly grew within you. It didn't help that it almost felt like you could feel the weight of his own eyes fixed on you beneath the mask, once again making you very aware of your lack of bra beneath your sweatshirt.
Catching your lip between your teeth, you noticed the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Had he been having similar thoughts? Observing you, too?
Inhaling a sharp breath through your nose at the idea, you knew you needed to stop this line of thinking and stop it fast. There was absolutely no way the Devil would be interested in you. Certainly not like that. That was absurd.
“Would you like something to eat?” you asked, trying to calm your pulse. “If your fridge is empty all the time I'm guessing you could use something to eat.”
“I mean, I suppose if you’re–”
He stopped short the exact moment that the lights died, throwing the pair of you into almost complete darkness. You sucked in a breath, turning to look out the window just to your right. It was eerily dark outside, a sight that was rare in the city. Even the buildings across the street had been thrown into darkness. There was nothing but the howling wind and snow outside.
“Guess it was too much to hope the power wouldn’t go out in this mess,” you breathed out.
“I suppose so,” he replied, his tone just as soft.
Reaching blindly forward, you set your almost empty mug onto the coffee table before you. For a moment you reached around on the surface until your fingers brushed against your phone. You picked it up and unlocked the screen, grateful for the bit of light it shed in the dark as you turned on the flashlight function.
“So I can’t offer you a nice cooked meal without power,” you told him, rising to your feet, “but I can get you an apple and a couple of protein bars? If you’d…like?”
“You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it,” he said.
“It’s the least I can do for the man who does so much for the rest of us,” you told him, maneuvering around the couch and navigating your way to the kitchen by the light of your phone. “I’d feel awful leaving you hungry and dehydrated.”
Wrapping one arm around your chest to try to fight the chill that had been steadily creeping into you, you headed towards a cabinet near the sink. Reaching up, you grabbed a glass from out of it before taking a moment to fill it beneath the faucet before setting it along the countertop. Then you plucked an apple out of a fruit bowl on your counter, taking a moment to rinse it off first. The moment you’d turned off the faucet you heard his voice from across the apartment.
“You’re cold.”
For a moment you found it odd how his words hadn’t come out as a question but more of an observation, though you quickly shrugged the strangeness of that aside. You set the apple down on the counter beside the glass of water before sliding a step to your right and opening up another cabinet.
“It’s alright, I’m fine,” you answered, trying to shine the light from your phone into the cabinet to read the labels on the boxes. “I wasn’t the one out in that snowstorm wearing barely anything at all.”
“You say that like I was out there naked.”
His voice had unexpectedly come from just behind you this time and it jolted your heart in your chest instantly. His sudden proximity mixed with his word choice had you startling on the spot. Your hand that had been about to pull the box of protein bars out of the cabinet accidentally bumped it instead, causing the entire box to slip off of the shelf. But before it could tumble to the floor and spill its contents, a black gloved hand darted out beside your face, catching it before it had barely fallen six inches.
You stood there rooted to the spot, his hand just brushing your arm as his held the box of protein bars. The hair on the back of your neck had risen, aware that he was standing barely a foot behind you now. Slowly, you turned over your shoulder to look at him. Your pulse quickened further at how close his face was to yours. He was looking at you, too. Or at least, he was facing you. Eyes dropping down, you couldn’t help but notice that mouth of his again.
“I apologize,” he said, your eyes watching as his lips moved. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Sometimes I forget how quiet I can be. I just wanted to give you one of the blankets. No sense in me using both when you’re cold.”
“Oh,” you whispered, unable to form any other response.
With his attention still on you, he reached up and slid the box back onto the shelf. Then he seemed to take a purposeful step back from you, his lips set in a straight line. You wondered what was going on in his mind right now, because you were sure there had to be something. Had he felt the tension you’d just felt? Or were you just ridiculous and overly hopeful?
And why did it even matter? You were never going to see this man again after tonight anyway.
Blinking a few times, you returned your attention to the shelf. Reaching up, you slid your hand into the box that had nearly taken a nosedive to your kitchen floor and pulled out two protein bars. Keeping your eyes actively focused away from the Devil nearby, you closed the cabinet and slid a step back to your left, grabbing the glass of water in your hand with your phone and the apple in the same hand as the bars. Though before you could turn around, you felt something gently drape over your shoulders. Looking down, you noticed it was the pink blanket he’d been wearing.
“Like I said,” he repeated, “there’s no sense in me using both.”
“Right,” you whispered, pulse pounding in your throat.
Turning on your heel, you stepped past him and made your way back to the living room by the light of your phone. This time you heard the heavy steps of him following after you. You assumed that was intentional.
“So why were you out in this blizzard tonight anyway?” you asked him, making your way around the couch. You hoped having something to talk about would distract you from whatever it was he kept stirring inside of you. “Surely there aren’t a lot of crimes being committed in this weather?”
The Devil let out a light laugh as he accepted the offered glass of water and food from you. One of your brows quirked curiously onto your forehead at his reaction as you sat back down in your original spot on the couch. Though you noticed as he took a large drink from the cup while lowering himself onto the cushions that he’d sat closer to you than before. You watched as he ripped open a protein bar and tore off a large bite next, but he didn't answer until a moment later when he’d swallowed the bite down. Internally you noted he must’ve been hungrier than he let on with the way he was devouring that bar and you’d wished you’d had more food to offer him with the power out.
“You’d be correct,” he told you. “And yet I still stupidly made my way out into this storm tonight in the hopes of catching a lead on something. Instead all I got was my ass frozen and my side bruised.”
You watched as he took another large bite of the protein bar, chewing it almost contemplatively as his head canted to the side. You could still see him in the beam of light from your phone which you were still clutching in your hand. Somehow this lighting made him even more appealing as it cast sharp shadows along his jaw.
“Though I suppose unexpectedly meeting you was a highlight,” he added, causing your cheeks to flush. “But you know, you never did give me your name.”
“Well you never exactly gave me yours,” you immediately quipped back.
Those beautiful lips of his curved upwards yet again as he chewed the last bite of the first protein bar. What you wouldn’t give to see if that smile had reached his eyes.
“Alright, point taken,” he replied.
Tearing your gaze away from him, you focused on your phone. If you kept the flashlight running the battery would die in no time. And who knew how long the power might be out for, you might need it later. You supposed you didn't need it on just for a conversation.
“I’m going to turn the flashlight off on my phone for now, if that's alright?” you told him, fingers darting across the screen to do just that. “Might need the battery on this later.”
“That’s alright,” he replied, sounding as if he was chewing another bite of food. “I don’t need it.”
He’d made the comment just as you’d leaned forward to set your phone back onto the coffee table, but you’d paused as the words processed in your mind. Your eyes narrowed again as your mind raced. Something about the way he’d said that sounded as if it had another meaning to it. But before you could put too much thought into it, he’d changed the topic.
“You’re still cold,” he pointed out. “That blanket alone isn't helping.”
Brows furrowing together as you slowly sat back, you wondered how he could possibly know that. The pair of you were in almost pitch black again with your phone flashlight off. It wasn't like he could see you and you hadn't been shivering, though there were definitely goosebumps dotting your skin. How could he possibly know?
“I’m fine,” you said, pulling the blanket you had on tighter around yourself. “It’s bound to get colder here with the power out now.”
“And with how long you had your window open earlier,” he added. “The temperature is going to drop in here faster than it would have if you hadn’t helped me.”
You sighed, frowning in his general direction. “So much for being able to help you warm up,” you muttered. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” he assured you.
It felt as if he was shifting on the couch nearby. Your brows knitted further together as you tried to make out what he was doing through the dark. All you could see was a faint mass of black that seemed darker than the rest of the blackness. Then moments later you felt a blanket being draped over your lap.
“No, uh uh,” you said, shaking your head and immediately grabbing the blanket. “There’s two blankets, we can clearly share.”
“You’re freezing,” he countered.
“And you’re not cold?” you shot back.
“Doesn’t matter, you’ve already been far kinder than I deserved this evening,” he replied.
You grabbed the blanket in your hands and stubbornly tossed it back in his general direction. An audible sigh sounded through the darkness to your left.
“You know I can just leave, right?” he told you. “Which would leave you with no reason to not use both blankets.”
Your eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound of his voice. “But then you’d be allowing more cold air into my apartment, which would only make the temperature drop faster in here,” you argued back. “Then I'd really be cold.”
He breathed out a laugh and you imagined the smile on his lips at the sound. You smiled triumphantly back at the dark shape of him because you knew you had a good point. Even though really, you could just layer on more clothes.
“Okay,” he relented. “That’s true. So how about…we share?”
The smile on your face quickly disappeared at his suggestion. Mouth dropping open, you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. It took you a few seconds to regain the ability to respond.
“Share?” you asked.
“Body heat would certainly keep us both warmer,” he answered. “So would sharing two blankets instead of using only one.”
“Oh, uh, well,” you stammered, your mind racing at the thought of your body pressed up against his. “I–I–”
His deep laugh rumbled towards you through the darkness, the sound causing your lips to clamp shut.
“I’m not suggesting anything immoral,” he assured you. “Simply a possible solution to the very real problem of us freezing in here. Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to leave?”
“No!” you exclaimed.
Immediately your eyes widened in horror at how quickly you’d responded to that. And judging by his chuckle, he’d also noticed, too. Your face scrunched up as you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so eager to keep him here in your apartment.
“Well in that case, we could share the blankets and our body heat,” he suggested again. “Because the temperature has definitely dropped a few degrees already and it's only going to continue if the power stays out.”
Nervously your tongue slid out, licking your lips. You were trying hard to control the racing of your heart, positive he could hear it with how hard it was beating now. Of course you weren’t going to pass up a chance to basically cuddle the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for warmth during a snowstorm. You just needed to find a way to not sound so eager to accept his offer first.
“I suppose you…have a point there,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice even. “That’s–that’s usually what people do in survival situations. Use their body heat to keep warm.”
An amused huff came from him and you realized he’d scooted even closer to you on the couch. Your breath caught in your throat the moment you felt his thigh bump against yours.
“So are we in agreement with sharing both blankets, then?” he asked.
“That–that appears to be the most logical solution to the problem,” you answered. “So yeah, I guess we…share the blankets.”
Despite the lack of light, the Devil seemed to move with ease and fluidity through the darkness, something you were paying close attention to as he gently sidled his way up against the side of you, managing to wrap both blankets around the pair of you. All the while you’d sat pin straight on the couch, aware that he was flush to your side from your shoulder all the way down to your knee. You clasped your hands in your lap, unsure of where else to place them. Truthfully, you had to admit you were already much warmer like this, with his body heat enveloping you beneath both blankets.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his tone far gentler than it had been all evening. “Because that's not my intention.”
“No,” you answered with a light shake of your head. “You're not.”
He chuckled softly, his body shaking yours slightly with the movement. Your head turned towards him and you wished you could see at least the part of his face that was visible right now.
“Then why are you so tense?” he questioned.
“I'm not tense!” you lied.
He laughed again, this time louder. The movement jostled you somehow further into his side, though your hand flew out and landed flat on his very solid chest as you tried to stop yourself from falling further into him. Your eyes widened in horror yet again, but before you could push yourself away you felt his arm wrapping around your shoulders and allowing you to sink even more into him. Heat was very much creeping up your neck and reaching your cheeks now in embarrassment.
“You're very tense actually,” he teased. “If you're uncomfortable I can move, but we aren't going to be sharing much body heat if you don't actually sit next to me.”
Slowly you removed your hand from his chest, lowering it to your lap. Though with the way you were sitting facing partially towards him now, your knuckles were brushing against his thigh.
“I am not tense,” you grumbled. “And you aren't making me uncomfortable. This is just…awkward. I barely know you and you don't know me.”
“Okay,” he conceded. “How about since you've guessed a few things about me, I think it's only fair you tell me a few things about yourself now.”
“I told you I'm not very interesting,” you reminded him.
“Ah, well,” he replied with a shrug, “I think I'd like to decide that for myself.”
Biting your lip, you turned your burning face and buried it into his shoulder, glad he couldn't see how nervous he'd suddenly made you. It was hard to tell if he was flirting with you or if that was just his vigilante persona–when he wasn't beating people, of course.
With your nose pressed against the fabric of his shirt, you noticed he smelled surprisingly good. There was the hint of his sweat, but there was also a faint clean detergent scent. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, inhaling a deep breath in. Even though he was still a stranger and a vigilante, he seemed kind and safe so far. And he also hadn't thrown you off of himself for getting even closer to him, either. Maybe you should just do what he seemed to be doing: relax and enjoy the unexpected cuddles tonight with an unexpected acquaintance.
“Alright, what do you want to know?” you whispered, eyes still closed as you focused on his scent.
Eyes fluttering open, you felt yourself waking from a deep, comfortable sleep. Though your eyes instantly snapped closed against the bright light that immediately assaulted them. Slowly you blinked them back open, trying to adjust to the surprising sunshine pouring through your living room window. Gradually you began to push yourself upright, realizing you were laying with your head on a couch pillow, both of your blankets snuggly wrapped around you. For a moment your face twisted into a look of confusion as you hesitated, staring down at the two blankets. Why had you been asleep on your couch?
But then flashes of last night came back to you. The masked man falling onto your fire escape. The joking and constant banter between the pair of you. Darkness when the power went out and the feel of his warm, muscular body wrapped around yours as he tried to keep you warm. The scent of clean detergent and his sweat. The feel of his spandex shirt against your fingertips and your cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder.
Had that all really happened? Or had you just fallen asleep on your couch and dreamt it?
Your attention shifted towards your coffee table and your sluggish brain processed the sight of your almost empty mug of tea, left abandoned all night, and an empty glass of water. Pushing yourself the rest of the way upright on the couch, your head turned over your shoulder. The lock on your living room window was undone.
The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really had been in your apartment last night. Which meant the pair of you really had cuddled together for warmth when your power had gone out. And you really did meet him. At least, somewhat.
“Oh my God,” you breathed out in awe. “He was really here.”
But just as the rush of excitement at meeting someone you’d always secretly admired filled you, it quickly vanished. Because you must have fallen asleep on him sometime last night when the pair of you were talking, and then he must’ve slipped out of your apartment before the sun came up, probably when the power had come back on. Which made sense, considering he wouldn’t want to be seen sneaking back to his own apartment in such a conspicuous outfit.
But what was upsetting you was the growing realization that it wasn’t just the first time you’d met him, but it would most likely be the last. And you’d gone and fallen asleep through part of that meeting.
Stupid stupid stupid.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock x you#matt murdock series#matt murdock#daredevil
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Markings/Biting
Includes; Dazai, Chūya, Atsushi, Ranpo Kunikida, Fyodor, Nikolai
Not requested !
Tags; NSFW/SMUT. Fem!reader. Biting, teasing, rough & soft sex, degradation, minor mentions of blood
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DAZAI, who has no qualms with showing you off; it provides a wonderful opportunity to tease you about being marked. Any patch of exposed skin will be littered with bites with a cocky grin on his face. He places them in your inner thighs, slowly drawing closer to your leaking cunt and biting harshly at your clit as he mumbles cruel things. He's an awful tease, however, getting riled up by your whines when he grazes your bare collarbone with his teeth. He coos softly at you, false sympathy falling from his mouth as tears start to prick the corners of your eyes. He promises he'll leave 'one more', but he can't stop himself. And can you really blame him? Not when your thighs are clumping around his narrow waist coupled with the filthy sounds with each precise thrust of his hips. It just fuels his desire to mark you up and claim you as his one and only ♡
Trails lovebites over your body in the heat of the moment. CHŪYA doesn't even realize he's nibbling at your chest or shoulders until you pitifully cry out, body trembling under his feverish touches-rather he is too absorbed in the way your cunt sucks him in with each movement. His hand was sure to leave some marks as well, gripping your hips tightly as you hugged his cock perfectly. His mind succumbs to your sounds, teeth continuing to leave petal blossoms, evidence of your lewd actions. He can be horribly possessive and loves to show you off as his pretty lover. What's a better way than to mark you all up in pretty reds and purples? Can't help but bite into the juncture of your neck when you tightly clench around him, spurring him to his climax. Sometimes, he forgets his own strength, leaving vicious red bites on your neck, just to have his gloved fingers run over the spots with delicate care afterward.
ATSUSHI doesn't mean to bite down and leave as many as bruises as he did - during the aftercare, he apologizes profusely for the marks he left on your neck and inner thighs. He couldn't help himself, not when you spread your legs terribly wide for him, exposing your dripping core to his greedy eyes. His hot breath prickles your flesh as his lips sheepishly roam that area. And with your mewls combined with his special ability, it was as though an animalistc urge took over him, sinking his teeth in your soft skin to mark. Likes to mark you on the wrist as well, rubbing his thumb over the petal blossoms whilst the other runs over your clit. Your pitulful whines act as encouragement for him to continue suckling the skin, he only stops when tears start to stain your cheeks but even then he leaves just a couple more. He becomes a stuttering mess the following morning when he awakes to see you in his arms, those bite still present on your form, shoots arousal straight to his pants.
RANPO is very precise in the way he marks you up. He leaves you squriming and weakly pawing at him as his teeth are unforgiving on your soft skin. As he rocks into you, his words dripping in mirth, his teeth are making work at forming a dozen lovebites at your skin. He leaves marks in places in which grant him the excuse of giving you a piece of his clothing. Seeing you in his clothes is not only quite adorable but knowing you're littered in filthy bites underneath done by his truly, well, it shoots a spike of arousal through his spine. Even better when you dress all pretty for him, clothes hugging your form as those blemishes peek over your stockings, exposed collar and other accessories. It couples well with your fucked out expression, salivia dripping down your chin from his doing. Ranpo likes to travel his fingers through the brusies, noting the way you flinch at his touch but how you also thighs rub together in anticipation. He'll gladly add onto the collection <33
He kisses you in areas he knows you can easily cover up. KUNIKIDA is very strict by his ideals and believes that the intimacy that resides between the two of you is something that will remain between the two of you. If he wished to show you off, a quick hand on your hip was enough to give off the message. He leaves markings on your chest while he hands fundle with your mounds. You gasp as you feel his teeth start to suckle and tug rather roughly on the skin. He pulls back after each bite, intrigued by how it blossoms into a pretty mark on your soft skin. His hands are rubbing shapes on your hips, his cock nestled deeply within just grazing your sweet spot all the while he adds to the forming collection. A couple bites to your shoulder blades as well, succumbing to the pleasure as he reaches his climax. During the aftercare, he fingers would subconsciously trace the markings as his words release genuine praise to how pretty you look both disheveled and marked for his eyes alone to see.
FYODOR is shamless and merciless in covering you in bites. As much as he loves you and finds you to be the most precious thing to him- well, he deprives some form amusement and pleasure from seeing you sob as he harshly bites down on your nape and shoulders. It's not hard enough to break skin, but the blaring bruise it leaves is just addicting. Sometimes you hardly notice he's leaving those marks, not when the feeling of his cock dragging along your abused walls became the only coherent thought. He litters blemishes in areas in which he knows that despite how much you attempt to cover it, it will be visible to his eyes at a certain angle. And well, Fyodor isn't opposed to marking you up before you're meeting with your friends or colleagues; he's cooing at you softly as you scramble to cover it up - your reaction, making it worth the tease. When he sees those markings start to fade, he'll gladly renew them for you as he fucks all you night long again and again and again.
Well- NIKOLAI- is Nikolai... he name alone is a warning. He covers you in vicious red marks in the most oddest of places that leave you gasping in surprise. He's probably the type to leave a hickey on your cheek just so everyone knows who makes you cry out in the middle of the night. And your chastising remarks(as much as you can anyway as you babble his name repeatedly) fall of deaf ears his lips roam your bare body. He bites hard - perhaps even drawing blood. He relishes the way you clamp around his dick whenever he breaks skin, your choked sobs echoing off the walls. Though he runs his tongue over the bruise, providing some relief from the ache as you shudder and squrim. Your thighs will be littered with marking by the time he's finished, purple blemishes from his sharp caines and crescent moons from his greedy hands. His eyes admire the marks that cover your body, and he gently pinches the blemishes with gloved fingers, soaking in your reactions. May even try to make you cum by just biting you, leaving pretty markings all over your body not one corner left untouched.
#dazai smut#chuuya smut#ranpo smut#nikolai smut#fyodor smut#kunikida smut#atsushi smut#bsd smut#bsd x reader#dazai x reader#chuuya x reader#ranpo x reader#nikolai x reader#fyodor x reader#kunikida x reader#atsushi x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs smut
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〈 drool — ethan landry
warnings; dirty talk, unprotected sex, breeding kink, manhandling.
tl; @normsdaughter-alt @nellmademacandcheese @f4yerite @skyesthebomb @love4ldr @slut4drudy @certified-stargirl @thievin-stealing
a/n; happy kinktober! enjoy babes xx
his hands are calloused and rough, harsh from hours spent in the gym, benching weights nearly twice your size, now put to use holding your hips in place as he pumps smoothly in and out of you. your lips bitten, open in a wide and seemingly permanent state of awe, lashes clumped together from the tears and mascara running in streaks down your blushing face. he grunts, smiling menacingly above you, hovering above your face as he spits another empty insult. “can’t take it baby? not a good enough fucking whore.” you clench at his words, gasping to find a reply.
shaking your head furiously, you rebuttal “i can, and i god damn am.” you clench your teeth, supporting yourself on your forearms, catching his mouth in a swift kiss. he pulls back just as quick as you lean in, frowning down at you, thrusting in so hard you double over, already unsteady breath turning labored.
“you want it, baby? want this fat cock deep inside huh?” he whispers in your ear, and you slump into his neck, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. he knows you can’t answer, relishing in the glory of turning you to a mess like this. one only he gets to see.
your insides are turning into pure heat, a stinging pain aching in your thighs from the clenching multiple orgasms has caused, so you nod “please ethan baby, wan’it so bad” you cry out. you can feel the vibration in his chest against your cheek, laughter jabbing at your pride, but the lust curling around your consciousness is far more powerful right now.
“nuh uh, tell me what you want” he tuts at you. fingers curling in the damp hair at the nape of your neck yanking you away from his embrace harshly, back hitting the mattress with a thump. his thrusts come to a complete stop, and his hands wrap around the backs of your thighs, spreading your legs open as wide as he can.
your bed creaks beneath your bodies as he shifts forward, cock pressing so deep you swear it moves your insides, swollen head pressing to your cervix, bulging the sweaty skin.
“fill me fucking full baby, want your kids in me” your head lulls to the side, eyes fluttering, heavy with exhaustion, threatening to close the longer he waits. you can feel him twitch inside of you though, pulsating enough to keep you somewhat conscious.
he chuckles, something so sinister beneath the warming noise. then he rolls his hips just enough to make you squirm, not fully giving in.
“eth please, i can’t anymore, just can’t do it anymore” your voice is heavy and raspy, wheezing in between your words as you try and look at him. curly hair matted to his forehead, veins bulging at his neck and down his arms. he definitely doesn’t look like the kind of guy that fucks you to blackout. but you don’t know anything you figure.
he hums, thoughtfully taking in your final plea before he picks the pace up once again, the orgasm you’ve been chasing finally seeming to creep over the edge.
“gonna fuck a baby into this” he grunts, one hand coming to press over your abdomen, thumb stretching down to pull the hood of your clit up, before he lets a glob of spit collect and drop to the swollen bud. you preen, burying the side of your face in your sheets, letting your mouth hang open as your back arches off the mattress.
his hand stays there when you cum, strength enough to trap your hips to the bed, legs quaking in the air, pleas and crys spilling involuntarily from your lips. he’s smiling, even if you can’t see it, he enjoys the way you writhe and shake.
biting his bottom lip he leans back just enough to watch your pussy as he lets go, whines of his own buried in his throat as his cock paints your gummy walls, pussy squelching around the base, globs of his cum and your wetness seeping out, covering his balls and staining your sheets, endless as he just keeps on cumming, filling you so full it becomes uncomfortable, and he has to pull out to just the tip, making sure most of it stays in.
leaning down, he cups your jaw, turning your head to look at him. your eyelids flutter open, a hiccup following, your chest bumping his with the force “you good baby?” he coos pressing a chaste kiss to your swollen mouth, licking up the spit that seeps from the corner, eyes quickly glancing to the side of your head before he snicker. “you drooled.”
you hum half heartedly, hiccuping again when he lets go of your jaw and your head bounces against the mattress softly “sleep” is all you can muster, but ethan knows what you really mean is shut up.
#— kinktober ‘23 🎃#scream iv#scream 6#ethan landry smut#ethan landry#ethan landry x you#ethan landry x reader#ethan scream 6#scream smut#kinktober
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