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cr4yolaas · 2 months

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the weight of words — alhaitham x mute! reader

notes: based off of this tiktok i found a long while ago featuring a poem that serves as the base for this fic <3 i feel like this is very poorly written / rushed and it lacks a good flow but i wanted to get it out asap bc i didn’t have any more energy to write it LOL

tags: italics represent handwritten notes, reader is implied to be rlly smart / top of the class, implied depressive episode (reader), self deprecation (reader), fluff → angst → fluff, may or may not be an inaccurate rep. of mute individuals, ooc alhaitham, not proofread

this was a little more irksome than he wanted to admit.

at the very top of the akademiya, far away from prying eyes, sat a student bathed in sunlight. from a distance, he observed. you held a book in one hand and an apple in the other, while your legs dangled off of the ledge. he couldn’t discern much from your backside.

but what bothered him the most was that you were seated in “his” spot. the spot he always crept away to during lunch, mainly for its isolation and breathtaking view.

without hesitation, alhaitham approached you. he tapped on your shoulder and stared with an intensity akin to the blazing sun in june. “excuse me,” he began. “i normally sit here. i would greatly appreciate it if you moved to another place, as i’m most accustomed to this spot.”

a silence washed over as you stared up at him. your lack of response left him annoyed — did you find this funny?

however, as you set down your book and snack gently, alhaitham found himself surprised for the first time in a while.

a notebook sat on your lap as you wrote rapidly. the man watched quietly.

i’m afraid not. there are countless other spots up here, and i just happened to get to this one first.

a sigh slipped from his lips. while he wasn’t unfamiliar with stubborn personalities around campus, this particular interaction seemed to interest him more than it irritated him. alhaitham nodded and sat beside you, much to your surprise.

he listened as you flipped your page and began writing again, this time taking up less space on the paper.

why do you like sitting here? you passed the notebook to him.

he wrote much slower in comparison to you, however, his handwriting bore an elegance you had not seen before, as if each letter carried a song in the ink. you found it beautiful.

the lack of noise.

his short response made you smile — simple and straight to the point. another thing you deemed wonderful.

he did not hand the notebook back to you, but instead, continued to write. i dislike unnecessary sounds. they serve as useless interruptions. up here, i find that in comparison to the chatter of students, the ambience is soothing. alhaitham placed the notebook in your lap gingerly and looked into the distance, his gaze absent yet his thoughts reverberating.

you continued this back and forth with him for the entirety of the lunch break. the lines engraved on your palms spilled over with ink smears, and you found your dominant arm growing weary. you did not write your goodbyes on the paper, therefore leaving your conversation unfinished. you left with a smidge of warmth in your heart and a smile on your face in hopes of meeting him again the next day.

from afar, you could see the way he sat leaning slightly more towards one side, and the occasional tapping of his fingers against the table as he wrote. he drank from a small mug of what you presumed to be coffee, but rather than holding the handle, he gripped the cup from its mouth. another intricacy that piqued your interest.

he noticed your stare after a few seconds, eyes of jade and clementine meeting yours. without a word, he relocated to your table, sitting directly across from you. “hello,” he greeted softly. “i didn’t know you frequented this place either.” his gaze flickered over to your notebook peeking out of your schoolbag, and when you pulled it out to respond to him, he found himself getting uncharacteristically excited.

i don’t, actually. i wanted a change of pace, but i’m not sure how much i’m enjoying it. you pushed the book across the table to him.

is it too loud to study? that’s surprising.

you looked up at him questioningly for a moment before jotting down your reply. i’m not studying. i’m just here to read. his lips upturned noticeably at your words, an expression you wished to carve into the crevices of your memory for eternity. he was painstakingly beautiful.

alhaitham didn’t respond for a handful of seconds, instead opting to look outside the window to his left. strands of sunlight draped themselves onto his perfectly crafted face and fell between each strand of hair. a view that compared to the one at the top of the akademiya.

a conversation of short responses — ranging from questions about your darshan, to your favorite season, to the books you enjoyed reading — ensued, the evidence splayed onto the paper. you appreciated his company, for it was rare that anyone sought to talk with you.

he asked another question, his curiosity seeping out endlessly. why do you communicate like this?

a thin-lipped smile etched itself onto your lips. the ink of your pen ghosted atop the paper, your hesitation evident. i was born mute. i have no voice, therefore i cannot communicate in a normal manner.

you grew increasingly anxious as he looked at you with an expression that was terrifyingly unreadable. your hands rested atop the notebook, keeping it away from him for reasons you didn’t understand quite yet.

“that’s okay,” he spoke, the baritone of his voice cutting through your shared silence. “i don’t mind it. actually, i think i prefer it. over the grating voices of the other scholars i know, at least.” he went on about his senior, a friend in kshahrewar who apparently could never keep his mouth shut in his presence. you merely listened, soaking in his words and absorbing each syllable that spilled out of the cracks between his teeth. your confession rendered you utterly silent, but seemingly, he paid no mind.

again, your conversation ended without a proper goodbye. your notebook sat still on the table. moments after his departure, you stayed in your seat, contemplating the complications of this newfound acquaintance.

alhaitham’s life revolved around routine and quiet. he needed both to go about his day in an efficient and satisfying manner; otherwise, he would end up feeling rather unfulfilled and bothered.

perhaps that is why he found himself so drawn to you. in comparison to many of his classmates, who were incessantly obnoxious and needlessly talkative, you were quiet, not just vocally, but in every other aspect. your handwriting was consistent and each letter looked just as neat as the other. your responses were similar to his in that they were direct and honest. and, oddly, you radiated a warmth that he could not see in anyone else.

his next encounter with you wouldn’t be for a handful of days. he knew you were a student, thus resulting in his confusion — he had never seen you around campus until that day.

he ran into you during one of his lectures. you sat right beside him in a seat that wasn’t usually occupied. he began to question you with pen and paper, as usual.

since when were you enrolled in this class?

i always have been. this isn’t a necessary class for my darshan, it’s just an extra period for me to increase my credits. i don’t come to class very often.

he quirked a brow up. you fiddled with your pen.

interesting how i haven’t heard of you until now. alhaitham smiled softly at your muffled giggle, one that he had not heard until then. the noise swarmed his chest with a lightness he could not replicate.

you might have fallen too soon.

alhaitham was a simple man, yet alluring all the same. you had snuck away his perfections and imperfections in a different notebook. for instance:

3 - straightforward and direct

21 - prefers tea over coffee

44 - can’t sleep without a weighted blanket

your ever-growing infatuation for him began to blossom in the cavities of your stomach, and soon, it would infect everything above. you could not bear it — nights spent in solitude, where he would discuss his interests (which were minimal) until you fell asleep; afternoons spent in comfort, where you would share a slice of cake to celebrating a particularly difficult exam. he consumed your very being, the neurons that invoked muscular response and the veins that carried your blood here and there; all of it was him. and yet, you could not meaningfully share this with him, your silence embedding your heart in a crevice far away.

it seemed that he got to it first, anyways.

alhaitham asked you a simple question — if you were capable of speaking for a day, what would you say? he had begun carrying his own memo book to conversate — another addition to the list.

you sat in silence for a brief period before writing, every thought and feeling and idea that has ever encountered my mind would leave my lips.

he wrote, then i will give you just that, and more.

when you began dating alhaitham, you found that he was much more eager to “speak” to you consistently. he would write in his same font and present to you a variety of inquiries, ranging from plans for the day to what you wanted for dinner. he was the epitome of a loving man, a far cry from the tales of coldheartedness and brutality you’ve heard of him. and yet, something began to gnaw at your lungs as he did so.

alhaitham was your voice to speak through — he was the monotonous ramblings, the heavy whispers, the gentle laughs; he held all of those for you. seemingly, life became far more breathable.

but your love was just as restricting as it was kind. to speak is to suffer, but to not speak at all is beyond that — it is torture. nights were spent staring at alhaitham’s sleeping figure, questioning whether he truly felt the affection you expressed. gifts, contact, quality time; what good was it if you could not do something as simple as converse with him? it extended beyond him, as well — for reasons unknown, it grew increasingly difficult to communicate with your new professors and classmates, the downturns of their lips as you pulled out a notebook gut-wrenching. you questioned if alhaitham felt the same.

you began to spiral.

a rapid set of knocks arrived at your door at a questionable hour. the sun hung high in the sky, albeit obscured by your curtains. a soft buzz rung in your room.

“i know you’re inside,” a voice spoke from the other side of the wood. he knocked again.

you made no move to open the door, nor to approach it, nor to get up from your bed. in response, the hinges creaked and heavy footsteps neared.

“why have you locked yourself in here?” alhaitham asked, his tone indiscernible. you didn’t see it, but you heard him shuffling around your bedroom. “where is your notebook?”

it was silly. he spoke as if you could respond, and you weren’t sure if you were supposed to be sorrowful or upset.

he pulled the blanket from off of your head, his face indifferent as he witnessed your disheveled state. “i’m not sure what’s going on, but i can assure you i will wait until you’re well enough to speak to me again. i will always wait.” alhaitham set his own memo book and pen beside your pillow. a warm hand held yours, a signal of reassurance. “please get better as soon as you can.”

he turned around to leave, and you could not bring yourself to reach out for him. what would you do? would the words crawl out of your throat, akin to a miracle? or would you plead at him with desperate eyes in hopes he’d read your mind? you did not know. every instance would inconvenience him in some way — that you could not bear.

you did not step foot outside for another week. alhaitham (and kaveh, much to your surprise) had left meals and gifts next to your door, all of which remained untouched. you were in stasis.

each thought had been replaced by a fog so asphyxiating that it had drowned every word the moment it rose to the surface. a bubbling exhaustion boiled in you. you wished to speak, to express anything at all, to apologize for inconveniencing those around you, and to apologize to alhaitham for putting him through such an obstacle.

as if sensing this desire, he arrived at your dorm again, this time with a more gentle appearance and a large bag behind him.

you reached out for the notebook he placed beside you a week prior. why are you here?

he kneeled down beside you, paying no mind to your disheveled appearance, and spoke softly, “i’m sorry.” if it were fitting, he would have laughed at the instantaneous furrow of your brows. “i should’ve realized. and in failing to do so, i have failed you.” alhaitham took the notebook and pen from your grasp, and with an unrivaled delicacy, he held you.

“i would give up my own voice if it meant i could spend an eternity with you,” he began. “i do not care if you lack a voice of your own. you’re still embedded in my heart all the same.”

you had not written to him for days. and yet, he understood everything. he read the words displayed in your features with a familiarity no one had demonstrated.

758 - willing to help me heal.

alhaitham sat across from you, his back hunched over his work and his face framed with a mix of feather-gray hair and wispy sunlight. he wrote with an unmatched fluidity, as if time were escaping him.

he let out a sigh as he set down his pencil and sat up straight. “why must you sit with me if you’ve finished this assignment weeks ago? it’s as if you’re mocking me.”

it’s entertaining. he grabbed the notebook from your side of the table and wrote haphazardly, contrasting his smooth technique before.

it’s really not. i feel as if i’m being ridiculed and observed under a microscrope. it’s horrible, he teased.

you’re smart, anyways. you’ll survive.

afternoons in the akademiya’s library were once suffocating and exhausting. to be surrounded by peers who could only sneer and misjudge and question was unpleasant. now, as you sat with your lover in a soft silence, you felt at peace.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin smut #genshin impact angst #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham angst #alhaitham smut

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seventeenytiny · 4 months

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Dry humping with SKZ plz. Im new to this channel so yeah. Take ur time

Dry Humping with Skz

Smut: MDNI

Word count: 1392 Authors Note: Well anon, you sent this ask in at either the end of May or June, it is now December. You said I could take my time and I sure did, inspiration has finally struck. I hope you enjoy! Also, the way I wrote each little blurb kinda shifted with each member so I apologize for the inconsistency

Bang Chan - Dry humping frustrates Chan, I firmly believe this man craves skin-to-skin contact badly. Why would he want to waste time dry humping when he could just rip off your clothes and feel the warmth of your skin against his? I feel like the only way you're going to get away with this would be when you take control and tie his hands behind his back. He'd be helpless, wanting to touch your body so badly as you hover over him, his hips bucking into the air. You slowly lower your body against his, grinding on his hard-on in the most teasingly possible way. He'd throw his head back while the most desperate whiney moan leaves his lips. I swear he could start tearing up because he's so desperate to actually touch you.

Lee Know - He'd love to do this as a punishment for when you start getting sassy with him. When you went to undo his belt he immediately swatted your hands away, "You don't deserve my cock angel. You were so naughty sending me those pics while you knew I was in an important meeting."

You whimper, "Minho, please. I need your cock so bad..."

"You wanna know what naughty girls get?" He asks while taking a seat and loosening his tie. He sticks his leg out and points to his thigh, "Come here angel, have a seat. If you want to get off you have to do it yourself." You begin to unbutton your jeans but you're suddenly cut off, "What are you doing?" He interrupts, "This is a punishment, keep your pants on and work for it."

You swallow hard as you straddle his thigh, the denim of your pants making it harder for you to feel what you so desperately want to feel.

Changbin - It starts with you two lounging around on a lazy day in comfy clothes and sweatpants. Then it becomes a heavy makeout session every time there is a commercial break during your show. Now, it's you on top of him desperately grinding against his hard cock. Those damn grey sweatpants he has on always get you, always perfectly outlining his member. You push yourself against his crotch, your want to feel pleasure is the only thing on your mind. He's so thick you can feel his tip pushing against your clit with each movement of your hips. You lean forward, pulling him in for a hot and heavy kiss, his hands grabbing all over your body. When you pull away you can see the dark patch forming in his pants from precum, he needs you so badly.

Hyunjin - You weren't lying when you told him you wanted him to teach you some dance moves. Your intentions were honest from the get-go. It started with a couple accidental bumps of your ass against his crotch while he was trying to guide your body. Then, you started to get an idea, and those accidental bumps no longer became accidents. He grabs you suddenly, pushing his now hard cock onto your ass, "I know what you're doing Y/N. Are you sure you want to play this game?" You smile innocently while batting your eyelashes at him, "I don't know what you're talking about," you say as you push back against his crotch. That's when he grabs you, pinning you against the floor. He hovers his body over yours, his crotch slowly making contact with your clothed pussy. He leans forward and nibbles on your neck, leaving marks. Every move he made with his body was so slow and sensual. His body is hot and heavy over yours, his skin covered in a layer of sweat that makes him look heavenly. "Hyunjin, please, I want more," you moan out. He smirks at you, "More of what? I'm not sure what you're talking about?"

Han - The two of you were spooning in bed, ready for sleep to take over your bodies. The only problem was that you couldn't quite get comfortable, unintentionally wiggling your ass against Jisung's crotch as you tried to find the right position. You felt his hold on you tighten as he took a deep breath, "I need you to hold still unless you want to stay up late doing something else." He pushes his groin into your body to help prove his point, his obvious boner pressing against you. You decide you don't even want to respond with words, all you do is push back into him. "Such a naughty girl," he says, his hips now slowly yet rhythmically grinding against you. " You can't help yourself, can you? Always horny for my cock." You whimper in response, letting your boyfriend take control of your body.

Felix - You were trying to cook a nice meal for the two of you, it was a rare night where both of your schedules lined up for you two to be home for dinner. You were standing at the counter, chopping up veggies that you would add to your dish. Felix enters the kitchen and embraces you from behind as you continue to prep. You let out a relaxed sigh as you put your knife down and sink into the embrace.

Felix pecks at your cheek, "I'm sure what you're going to make is delicious love, but I'm a bit hungry for something else." He moves his mouth to lick at your neck, a move that always makes you weak in the knees. "You're so cheesy Felix,"

"But I know you love it," he says while pushing his hard-on against you.

"Ah... please don't stop..."

That's all he had to hear, now he has you pinned against the counter, his crotch rubbing against yours most deliciously. The denim of his jeans feels heavenly against the thin material of your leggings. He has your legs shaking already, his lips all over your neck as he pleasures you.

Seungmin - Seungmin had been really busy lately, he was constantly filming for different shows and interviews. As a result, you missed him, so he let you tag along to one of his shoots. You stayed out of the way, hiding in his dressing room while he worked. Every little break he has he's in there giving you attention, hugging you, and covering you with kisses before having to go back out to film. Finally, a 30-minute break came, and he practically ran to his dressing room to see you. You were lying comfortably on the couch, scrolling away on your phone. He grabs your phone and puts it aside before crawling on top of you. You were a bit shocked at how bold he was being, "I have a 30-minute break and I'm going to not waste any time with you," he says while sucking at your neck. You put your arms around him, your hands being careful to not mess up his styled hair. "Do whatever you want to do to me then, baby." He wastes no time, his lips attacking yours, his hips pushing into yours. You spread your legs slightly, allowing him to grind his hard cock against your pussy. He's fast with his movements, eager and desperate to please you and him.

I.N - Waking up with Jeongin by your side was always a treat. He looks so gorgeous, his messy hair and deep morning voice adding to his charm. "Good morning my love," he says while pulling you close to his body. "Did you sleep well?"

"Still tired... don't want to get out of bed yet..."

"We can stay here as long as you want," he says while leaning over to place a kiss on your temple. That's when you feel it, his morning wood poking your backside. You smile to yourself, you're going to take full advantage of this situation. You arch your back to push your ass into him firmly, slowly grinding against his underwear-covered cock. He lets out a soft moan, one so quiet that you could hardly hear it. "Does that feel good baby? Do you like the way ass feels against your cock?"

He wraps his arms around you, pulling your body as tight as he can against yours while pushing back against you. "Don't you dare stop."

The two of you find your rhythm rather quickly, sweat starting to coat both of your bodies as you race to finish.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #lee felix #bang chan #lee know #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #han jisung #jisung #kim seungmin #seungmin #jeongin #I.N

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dnpbeats · 3 months

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(Almost Solid) Proof That Dan Ran PhilsLion

I'm convinced that Dan was the person who ran the PhilsLion twit and I have receipts. For anyone who doesn't know, PhilsLion is a twitter account that tweeted from the POV of Lion. It's commonly thought that this account was run by Phil. Besides the fact that he would interact with the account, there are multiple tweets that seem to be about him and dan. Unfortunately there's good reason to believe it wasn't Phil running it. HOWEVER there are many reasons that lead me to believe it was Dan who was tweeting from it, some of which is evidence based and some of which makes logical sense.

DISCLAIMER: All tweets I've included that are ostensibly about dan and phil's relationship are in reference to things that are confirmed by d&p themselves (e.g. the fact that d&p were romantically involved when they first met). I will not discuss anything that is not supposed to be public knowledge.

First let's look at when the Twitter was created. (Note: I am in UTC-8 so all screenshots will be in that time zone. I will say what time it would've been in UTC+0 (d&p's time zone) for clarity.)

Dan’s twitter account was created in May 2009. The first tweet from him (assuming he did not delete any older ones) was May 15 at 1:18pm. Presumably this is the day he got twitter.

On May 16 2009 at 3:19am Phil tweeted that he uploaded “I was kidnapped.”

In this video he mentions his own personal twitter account, and there is an annotation of Lion saying “i want a twitter” (20sec into the video)

About 3 hours after the video was posted (6:26am UTC+0), we get the first tweet from PhilsLion (presumably this was right after the account was created)

May 16th 2009 was a Saturday. We know from Dan’s video “THE POWER NAP” that he worked at ASDA on Saturdays and Sundays from 5am-10am. So he would’ve been awake shortly after Phil posted the video. Also note that Dan presumably had an iPhone at the time (he tweeted something about iPhones in June 2009 and had no previous tweets before that about getting a new phone). He specifically tweeted in Sep 2009 about tweeting from his iPhone. Based on the fact that Dan literally showed up to work drunk and took a nap, I don’t think he is above going on twitter at work.

While this is not proof that Dan created the account, we can see that it’s definitely possible for him to have created the account. We know he would’ve been awake at the time the account was created, and it was approx. a day after he created his own twitter account, so making a twitter account would've been fresh in his mind.

We do have proof that Phil did not create the account. First, he edited the description of “I was kidnapped.” to say that someone [else] created PhilsLion:

He also tweeted May 16th (10:35am UTC+0 if that matters to anyone) basically saying the same thing as the video desc, implying that someone else made the account:

Finally in “AmazingJason” (posted May 26th) he mentions, again, “someone [else]” creating the Twitter account (about 20seconds in, the timestamp is linked). He encourages everyone to follow it and links it in the description of the video:

So unless Phil was really pushing that someone else created it even though he himself made it, it wasn’t him.

If you want to skip to Proof™ scroll down to the next photo of Phil. Before that, I’d like to debunk the 11:11/different time zone thing–I think this is the biggest reason people have claimed that the account was not run by Phil or Dan but rather some other random fan. On May 30th at 4:12pm UTC+0 and June 3rd at 4:19am UTC+0, PhilsLion tweeted about making wishes at 11:11. In order for these tweets to be made at ~11:11 local time, they would need to have been made in either UTC-5 or UTC+7. UTC-5 is US Eastern Time. UTC+7 is a time zone mainly consisting of Southeast Asia. This includes parts of Indonesia, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam. I have an explanation for this, which is certainly the biggest reach of this whole thing, but it is a plausible explanation :p

It’s very possible that it was Dan who tweeted this if he was on vacation with his family at the time. We know Dan and his family have vacationed in Asia many times (at the very least they went to Thailand in 2006, India in 2010 and 2013, and Sri Lanka in 2016). So while there’s no proof (that I know of) that Dan was on vacation at this time, it’s certainly possible that he was. The location of the tweets would fit with where we know his family likes to go on holiday. Additionally, the second tweet talks about water skiing, which tends to be a fun vacation thing rather than something people do regularly (note this tweet would be at 11:19am in UTC+7)

There’s further proof that PhilsLion was not always in UTC+7. On Christmas 2009, PhilsLion tweeted “goodmorning” at 6:21am UTC+0. This would be 1:21pm in UTC+7. It makes a lot more sense for this to have been tweeted in England.

Then fast forward to January 8th 2011. PhilsLion tweets “I was up all night” at 8:05am UTC+0. This would be 3pm in UTC+7. So again, it seems that PhilsLion was not in UTC+7 at this time.

Okay, now onto much more solid evidence. First, the handwriting of PhilsLion. This is the most tangible piece of proof. On June 25th 2009 Phil posted “AmazingAlex,” where Lion can be seen behind him in one of Phil’s shoes:

Lion tweeted a photo the next day, saying “I’m on a boat :)” in reference to being in Phil’s shoe

Note that the drawing/writing does not appear in the video and therefore was done by whoever runs PhilsLion. Here is some of Dan’s writing (found in TABINOF) for comparison:

This is from the “how to draw cat whiskers” page. Notice how the As all have the crossbar quite high up, just like in the twitter picture. Additionally, the top loops in the Bs are all very skinny compared to the bottom loop. Here’s another one of Dan’s capital Bs from the blindfolded portrait page, which is similar to Lion's writing:

I’m not a handwriting analysis expert, and yes it’s different drawing on MSPaint vs. a piece of paper, but the handwriting certainly has similarities.

And now, the more circumstantial evidence, but things that seem (imo) to be too big of a coincidence to not have been written by Dan (FYI these are going to be added in order of how much of a reach they are, not chronological order, lol). First we have “I month you”:

This tweet is proposing an alternate word for “love” and ends with “I month you” (i.e. is replacing the word love with month), and was tweeted on November 19th 2009. AKA exactly a month after dan and phil met IRL for the first time.

Another one that seems very related to Dan and what we know of his situation is this tweet about “Lion’s” dad:

In Dan’s own words in BIG: “I didn’t think I could ask my family for help or share my feelings about this, mainly due to my dad. Funny guy, kind of a woke hippie who did and said a lot of things I did respect but at the same time used to walk around the house saying how he hoped someone he had a problem with at work would 'die of bum cancer.' Yep, so picked the one area to be a bigot that would further traumatize your child. Nice! This experience coming from a childhood hearing the word gay meaninglessly thrown around as an insult at home[.]”

Note that Dan was still living at home at the time, so if this tweet was made by him, it wouldn't have meant literally “getting away.” Also, Dan was at home when this was tweeted but it was 3 days before he was going to see Phil.

Next there’s this tweet:

The “admirers” thing could be referring to anything really, but was tweeted during the time that Dan (and Phil) were in the Clipstar video contest. Also, Dan posted this dailybooth two days before this tweet, and most of the comments are just gassing him up, so lol (the pic doesn’t load but based on the comments I think it was a screenshot from his clipstar vid).

This tweet from Christmas Eve 2009. Dan and Phil were together and filming the interactive Christmas adventure:

Proof they were together if anyone needs it:

This tweet (tweeted November 26 5:45am UTC+0)

Many things to note here. The song linked is called “When I See You Again.” It’s by Dave Bullas (one of the founders of SiTC), whom d&p were/are friends with. (They had other friends who were friends with him as well. PJ has the top comment on the video.) The lyrics of the song are not really happy as they insinuate a breakup. But it’s interesting to think about them in the context of wanting to see someone who you are not able to. This tweet was 3/4 days after the “I wonder how biology…” tweet and 3 days before Dan went to see Phil.

Also, Dan just LOVES recommending music to people. He does it a lot.

(^ Proof Dan was seeing Phil on the 29th if anyone needs it)

Now a tweet exchange which doesn't technically prove anything, but I thought was curious. Phil tweeted December 29 2010 about getting a new camera:

Lion tweeted in reference to this 20 minutes later:

I find this interesting because Phil made no comment anywhere about manuals or ignoring them. So it could just be PhilsLion making schput, but a lot of the other Lion tweets are in direct reference to something Phil said/did. It would make sense if Dan ran the twitter acc and he was talking about something that he witnessed Phil do that we don’t know about. Also note “my new camera is here” vs. “phil picked up his new camera” (Lion giving more specific detail than Phil in terms of the manner in which he obtained the camera).

Some Tweets (1, 2, 3) which aren’t proof of anything but just sound like things Dan would say:

For context, this is about floods that happened in Queensland. Again, I have no way to prove Dan said this. But if you’ve ever read, like, anything Dan has said in a print interview ever or watched any of his liveshows, you know that he often tries to say stuff with superfluous/pretentious language and then ends up not making a whole lot of sense. Things that he’s said have been misconstrued so many times, or just outright don’t make sense to anyone but him. So this series of tweets checks out, if it is Dan who ran the account.

This Twitter exchange which doesn’t actually prove anything but is very sweet if it is dan who tweeted it:

The photo is a screenshot from “AmazingJason”:

Note that two weeks later (October 23) in “Life without the internet!?” Phil says the internet led to him “meeting the best friend of [his] life.” The comments all assume he is referencing Dan, but in the video he holds up Lion, so presumably that’s actually who he’s talking about. That is, unless Lion represents Dan :p

Lastly, this tweet which is a Fall Out Boy lyric, but again would be cute if it was Dan:

There's a few more tweets that are interesting to think about being from Dan but don't actually prove anything so I won't put them here lol.

So, at the end of the day, could it be some random fan* who made the twitter account? Yes. But in my opinion there isn’t really anything proving it’s not Dan. On top of that, there are enough things that fit with what we know factually about d&p now, but were not well known at the time, that make it seem much more likely that Dan ran this account vs. a random person.

*technically when the account was started, Dan himself was a random fan. So there’s that too ;)

P.S. best practice is to not interact with old tweets, so pls don't go on a retweet spree

#this has the exact limit of photos you can put in one post lmao #I spent way too much time on this so I hope u enjoy my investigative skills <3 #dan and phil #dan howell #phil lester #daniel howell #amazingphil #d&p #wordvom.txt #phan #<- lol #idk the last time I used that tag #philslion

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roosterforme · 6 months

Text

Always Ever Only You Part 18 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You missed the quality time you'd been spending with your husband as soon as it started to slip away. You were busy with work, and Bradley was being called upon again, just like he always was. But before he prepares to leave, your curiosity gets the best of you.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, oral, smut, talking about trying for a baby

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

As May became June, the temperatures got hotter and the beaches got more crowded, and your evening walks with Tramp became a little less frequent as a result. You also felt like your time with Bradley was starting to become a little more sporadic. Work and other obligations were starting to break into the bubble that the two of you had managed to re-form, and you kind of missed how cozy you'd been.

"I'll be home late on Tuesday, Roo. I have a meeting with Bickel."

"Mav asked me to teach on Thursday, so don't wait for me if you're hungry for dinner."

By the time you got to Friday night, you ended up at the Hard Deck, because everyone kept bugging you to go. And you knew that Bradley was proud of your hard work and the fact that your boss seemed to be lining you up to take over after his eventual retirement. And it wasn't like you weren't absolutely thrilled that Top Gun was entrusting Bradley with teaching their incoming students with more frequency. But you were just craving more of the intimate hours you got used to at home. With just Bradley and a bath with champagne followed by him reading from his notebooks.

"You want another beer?" Bradley asked you next to the noisy pool table as you shook your head. Nat had already given you two, and you just wanted to go home already. You tried to socialize with everyone a little bit more. Fanboy was about to leave for a long deployment, so you made sure you gave him an extra hug or two. And then Payback showed up with the girl he was dating, so you chatted with her for a little bit. But after another hour, you were feeling antsy.

Any day now, you were certain Bradley would be telling you he had been chosen for the top secret special detachment. And in just a few more days, he would be on base in Lemoore until the judge made a decision regarding Admiral Dean and Slayer. And there was nothing you could do about either of those things.

You were also pretty sure you were almost done ovulating right now in spite of your best efforts to try not to think about it. And the past few days had been a bust with how busy the two of you were. The last thing you wanted to do was push Bradley to have sex when one or both of you were tired or clearly not in the mood for it. But there was a tiny bit of doubt that was creeping in, making you feel like this was a wasted month. But on the other hand, just looking at him right now was making you warm. You knew it was probably just your hormones, but you wanted him and his attention all to yourself.

Immediately you set your empty beer bottle down and wrapped your arms around your husband as he talked to his best friend. He rubbed your back as you pressed your cheek to his chest, already feeling a little better. You didn't care if Nat heard you; she was already Bradley's sounding board for so many things. So you smiled at her and then looked up at him as he paused with his beer most of the way to his mouth.

"Bradley," you said, your voice a little needy even to your own ears. "I love you, and it's been a really long week, and I just kind of miss when we were spending so much time together. Can we go home now and relax?"

Bradley handed Nat his half empty beer and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Can we finish talking about this later?"

"Absolutely," Nat replied with a smirk. "Goodnight, you two."

Then he laced his fingers with yours and led you out of the bar and onto the deck where he immediately picked you up for a piggy back ride. "Why didn't you say something sooner? I thought you wanted to come out and see Fanboy and do the whole Hard Deck thing tonight."

"I kind of did," you said, kissing his ear as he carried you to the Bronco. "But it got old fast compared to being at home with you. It's just been a long week, and I missed you. And I know you'll be in Lemoore in a few days, and then the special detachment is coming up, and-"

"Hey," Bradley said firmly as he set you down next to the Bronco. "I'm right here, and I'm more than happy to take you home and stay there for the rest of the weekend. I'd love to do that, in fact."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. "Maybe you can call Nat tomorrow? And finish your conversation with her then?"

"Maybe," he replied. "Or maybe I'll be too busy with my wife. Either way, it works for me."

He buckled you in with another kiss before he climbed in and zipped the short distance back home. Then you made a sandwich for a late night snack and cut it in half to share with him. He lifted you up onto the counter and finished his in three bites, and you felt so much better being at home alone with him. You finally felt like you could focus.

"Are you still hungry?" you asked while he downed a glass of water and watched you finish eating.

"Not for a sandwich, Sweetheart." His voice was raspy, and the fine hairs on your neck and arms were standing on end as he took a step closer.

"Oh," you whispered as he leaned against the counter with his hands on either side of your thighs. You ate the last few bites slowly before you asked, "Are you going to tell me what you're hungry for? Maybe it's something I could get ready for you?"

He groaned softly as he kissed the side of your neck and whispered, "I wanna eat your pussy, Baby Girl. Will you let me?"

An hour ago, you had been feeling overstimulated and annoyed. Now you were unbuttoning your shorts and whining your husband's name. Next time you wouldn't wait so long to tell him you just needed a few minutes alone with him so you could feel better.

"I'll take that as a yes," Bradley said as he sank down to his knees in front of you and helped you out of your shorts and underwear. He spread your legs wide and ran his index finger back and forth across your clit. "Let me enjoy this perfect pussy, and then I'll read to you from my notebook in bed."

He peppered a few kisses on your thigh, then his mouth was all over you. Your fingers gripped his hair as you tried to stay upright while he buried his face in you. "Roo," you gasped as his mustache hit just the right spot. You rocked gently against his face as he licked long stripes up and down before letting his pretty lips settle on your clit. He knew exactly how to get you off, but right now, he was taking his time.

"Fucking gorgeous," he whispered, looking up at you and smiling before kissing you everywhere. He fucked you expertly with his tongue, and you were afraid you were pulling his hair too hard, but he didn't stop.

Soft, needy sounds gave way to you begging him to let you come. "Please, Daddy!"

He grunted and fucked you with two fingers while he sucked on you in a gentle, steady rhythm. The pressure was just right. His rough mustache was perfect. You came, tugging on his hair until he was standing up. His cheeks were rosy, and his pupils were blown wide, and his face was wet from a mix of your pussy and his saliva.

He was the most handsome thing that ever existed, and now he was kissing your lips with that mouth that tasted like you. This time you were a little gentler as you combed your fingers through his hair while he rutted against you.

"You just needed a night in with your Daddy. You feel better now?"

"I really did need you," you promised. Then you softly asked him, "Do you want to fuck me?"

He was panting slightly as he muttered, "Of course I do. You're my perfect wife."

You undid his pants and pushed them down a few inches, and he was right at your entrance, ready to go. But he was hesitating, his cheeks growing a shade darker as he swallowed hard. "I'm not gonna last."

He was just that turned on from going down on you. "I don't care," you promised him. You were so relaxed and sated, you kind of felt like you could melt into a puddle on the kitchen island. And then he was thrusting inside you, his hips rolling and pushing your thighs wider.

He wrapped his hands around your waist and shook his head, and soon he was muttering that he was about to finish. So you leaned back on your elbows and planted your feet on the edge of the counter and said, "I was a good girl all week. Give me a cream pie?"

Your husband stroked your rooster tattoo with his right thumb as he fucked you harder until you were struggling to keep your feet planted in place. "Oh, shit," he growled when he came. Once his movements had stilled, he withdrew from you and smiled. "That's a beautiful cream pie, if I do say so myself. We do some of our best work in the kitchen."

You were both giggly and a little bit messy as Bradley carried you to bed. When he flipped to a random page in the notebook, you curled up against him. "What am I supposed to do when you're gone again? We have no idea how long you'll be in Lemoore. And who knows about the special mission either."

He sighed and kissed your forehead. "As far as I'm concerned, Lemoore should be cut and dry. I'll drive up with Nat and Bob, and we'll all read our statements. And hopefully that's it."

"And hopefully Dean and Slayer get fucking reprimanded to the letter of the law," you added.

"Well, that too," he said with a laugh. "But I'll be back home quickly, and we don't even know if I'll get selected for the detachment, so let's not worry about that yet." Then he cleared his throat and started to read from his notebook.

"I can't believe how much time I wasted with other women. The few minutes of satisfaction did not outweigh the fact that I didn't really want to get to know them at all. And maybe even worse, the fact that I could tell they thought I was only good for one thing. The more I think about it, maybe I really only was good for one thing."

You cut him off with a kiss and said, "I don't really like this page. I don't like it when you're hard on yourself."

Bradley looked at you with soft eyes and smiled. "Want me to read something else?"

You wrapped your arms around him a little tighter, but you said, "No. Finish this one."

He cleared his throat again and continued.

"At the time, I guess I thought I was living in the moment, and that I'd have these experiences to look back on someday when I was older. But now I don't like thinking about it, because the main thing I remember is that I was selling myself short in every way. What's the point in having meaningless sex over and over again when what you're actually craving is attention and affection? What's the point in kicking someone out of your bed after an hour when your skin starts to crawl, when all you really want is to find the right person to keep with you all night long?

I don't understand how my wife is so gracious. I really don't get the way she can look at me and see something worth her precious time. But I'm so thankful she does."

You snuggled against him quietly, your thoughts swirling. "Roo? I don't understand why you didn't just try to take me home with you after we met."

Bradley snorted and chuckled as he set the notebook aside. "You mean when I couldn't stop staring at you when we were on base working together? Or you mean the night when we first talked at the Hard Deck?"

You closed your eyes and considered the difference. Jake had asked you out during work hours two days after you met him, but you were already distracted by Bradley at that point. And maybe you'd have let Bradley take you home from the bar, but then you probably would have never gone on a real date with him.

"I think I would have gone home with you from the bar," you said softly. "If you'd asked."

Bradley's fingers dug into your body as he said, "Then you would have thought I was a joke just like every other woman. And maybe that's why I didn't try my shitty pickup lines or any of my moves on you. Yeah, you and I were flirting, but everything I did and said to you was sincere, because I could tell I was getting your genuine undivided attention. You weren't only looking at me like I could take care of you physically for an hour. And that was a very rare thing."

"Oh," you sighed, crawling fully on top of him now. You smiled and kissed him until the concerned crease in his forehead smoothed out. "You always make me feel like you knew we would get married someday as soon as you looked at me."

Bradley rubbed his hands up under your shirt. "I think I subconsciously hoped so, Sweetheart. But I had to play the limited cards in my hand just right to even stand a chance."

You were starting to get sleepy now, and his rough hands felt so good everywhere. "What would you have said to me if you just wanted to hookup?" you asked, laughing as he groaned.

"You don't want to know, Sweetheart. You would have probably laughed in my face and walked away, because I was using the same dumb tactics since I was twenty four."

You kissed his sternum as your mind once again swirled with information. "This is all very intriguing," you murmured as you started to doze.

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

Bradley was waiting on the porch with you after work on Monday evening, his arms wrapped around you as you kissed him. It was a five hour drive up to Lemoore, and Nat was on her way to pick him up.

"Call or text me when you get there," you said between kisses as your fingers teased and tugged at his hair. "Even if it's late."

"I will," he promised, kind of no longer content to just be making out with you. There wasn't enough time for anything else, even though you were moaning softly into his mouth and letting your hands explore the front of his body now. "Baby Girl," he warned. The last thing he wanted was an erection when he had to leave you in the next few minutes.

But you just kissed him harder and said, "I love you," and now Bradley was thinking about retiring and spending every night with you for the rest of his life.

"Fuck," he grunted when he heard Nat's SUV. When he opened his eyes, she was careening into the driveway behind your shitty little car. His best friend was such a bad driver, he wasn't exactly sure why he and Bob agreed to put her behind the wheel today, but he certainly wouldn't mind if Nat totaled your car right now. She came to a screeching halt mere inches from your bumper. At least that disappointment was enough to stave off his boner.

You walked Bradley to the driveway, and Bob put the passenger side window down so you could chat with them while Bradley put his garment bag in the trunk along with your small overnight bag he was using. If he wasn't back by Wednesday night, he was going to be so pissed off.

"I made you guys cookies and some blueberry muffins," you told Bob, handing two containers over. Bradley snuck up behind you and pressed himself against your rear end as you tried to have a normal conversation with his friends. You ended up just saying good luck before turning to face him. "You're obnoxious," you whispered.

"I know. It's just because I love you so much," he replied with a smirk, earning another heated kiss before you pushed him toward the back door. "I'll let you know when we get there."

Bradley had to push snack wrappers and other assorted trash onto the floor with a grimace so he could buckle his seat belt. Nat turned to look at him. "You and your wife are so gross," she said with a laugh.

"Not as gross as your car. Hey, any chance you can put it in drive instead of reverse and then floor the accelerator?" he asked, only half kidding as he looked at your car.

"No," Nat replied as she backed out. "She'd never forgive me."

Then the three of them waved to you, and they were off. Bradley tried to have a muffin without making a mess of the crumbs, but he watched as Nat just brushed them onto the floor while she drove and ate. "You guys think anything will even happen to Dean?" she asked with her mouth full.

"If everything is good and just in the world, then yes," Bob said in an even tone.

"I fucking hope so," Bradley added. "If for no other reason than the fact that they are making us go up to Lemoore."

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

On Tuesday, the courtroom was packed with people who were there to make statements against Admiral Dean. There were so many people in fact, that Bradley was surprised this man had been allowed to fuck up this many missions for his own agenda before he ended up in front of a judge in a military courtroom. The benches of witnesses were jammed as Bradley squeezed in next to Nat, and the room was so warm, he didn't know how he'd manage all day in his dress blues.

"Look at everyone," she whispered as she tugged at her collar. "We'll be here all week."

Bradley had to listen to the two lawyers argue for a bit, but once things started rolling, he was starting to get a solid picture of what was going on here. Admiral Dean moved from the Atlantic Fleet to the Pacific Fleet with a small reprimand after showing clear favoritism to the pilots out of Naval Air Station Key West. He'd cost an aviator her life among a laundry list of other fucked up things, a fact that made Bradley's somach turn. He nudged Nat's leg with his, thankful his friend was still here even though she looked like she was half asleep.

But once Dean had been placed in Lemoore, things somehow got even worse. Bradley listened to a statement from a pilot who felt like he had been forced into early retirement by Dean. Then there was a weapons systems officer who said she'd been passed over for promotions by Dean because she tried to call him out on his behavior.

When he, Bob and Nat were called up with the others who had been in the air with Slayer back in April, Bradley had to stand there and feel the glare from two sets of eyes burning into him as he gave his honest testimony of the events of that day. He didn't hold back. He talked about the fact that he had been named the spare when he would have never gone off course like Slayer did. He made sure to make his point when he said everyone in the air was at risk simply because Slayer had been selected for the mission over him. And he ended things by pointing out that by the time he got to the scene of the dogfighting, some of the others were already nearly out of ammunition and fuel.

He made eye contact with Dean and then Slayer once he was finished, and then Bob was called up. And then Nat was called up. And then all of the others as well. The details that were being recounted could all be pieced together to give an honest picture of what happened that day. Dean should have been squirming in his seat, and Bradley was delighted to see that he was as the day wore on and on.

Bradley's stomach was growling loudly, and he was annoyed when the judge said, "Let's all reconvene tomorrow morning for final statements and a decision. Everyone is dismissed for now."

"We have to stay another night?" Nat whined, yanking at her tie on the way out of the courtroom. "Just strip the asshole of his rank right now."

Bradley tended to agree with her. What was the sense in drawing this out any longer? He could have been on his way home to you, but instead he was picking up takeout for dinner and walking it back to his tiny hotel room across the street from the barracks on base. He inhaled his dinner while he texted you some updates, and just when he was hoping to call and maybe have some filthy phone sex, he got a call from someone else.

He sighed and answered. "Hey, Mav. What's up?"

"You're still in Lemoore?"

"Yeah. Until at least tomorrow," Bradley grunted.

Mav paused for a beat. "I wanted to tell you in person, but tomorrow night won't give you as much time to prepare. You've been selected. For the special detachment. You'll have to fly out of Miramar by Comanche on Monday morning."

Bradley's heart was pounding with anticipation and nerves. "Where am I going?"

"That's all the information I have. The clearances for this thing are tight to say the least. When you get back down here, you'll need to talk to Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates immediately."

"Fuck," Bradley whispered. "Thanks for the call."

He sat in silence for a few minutes, wondering if he should call and tell you right now or wait until he got home. He collapsed back on the bed, knowing this was the kind of conversation he'd rather have with you face to face, but it would be much worse if you thought he was trying to hide anything from you. He reached for his phone.

After one ring, he heard your voice. "Roo." You sounded so sweet, he could picture the way you must have been curled up in bed reading by now. "Are you alone?"

"Yeah," he grunted, rubbing his face with one hand.

Your soft laughter made him want to touch himself as you said, "Can we talk about how much I want to suck your cock right now?"

"Fuck. Baby Girl. Wait."

Your voice took on a different tone entirely. "What's wrong?"

"Maverick just called me. I'm going on the special detachment. I leave Monday." When you asked him for details, he had none to give you. And when you asked him if he was happy, he didn't really know how to respond. "I think... relieved is the right word for how I'm feeling. I don't want to leave you again, but I do feel like this is something I needed."

And then you told him that you were proud of him.

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

You had a missed call from Bradley plus a new text message when you looked at your phone the following afternoon, but you couldn't even call him back. You were sitting between Cat and Commander Bickel for a video conference with a group in Annapolis. Video conferences were the fucking worst invention. You didn't want to have to look at that bald guy in Maryland picking his nose on a huge screen. And you certainly didn't want to have to listen to this other idiot talk about things that had nothing to do with your lab for hours on end.

The only good part was the catered lunch, but even that prevented you from calling Bradley back. You looked at the most recent text he sent you saying Dean and Slayer had been sentenced and that he was on his way home. You sent him back a thumbs up. The details would have to wait until later.

"Come here," Cat said, giving you a look as she jerked her head to the side.

"What?" you asked as you tried to eat your sandwich before the conference started back up for the afternoon. You had been alternating who you ate lunch with when you made it to the cafeteria, and you'd also been trying to give her and Jake plenty of time together this week without being the third wheel.

"I'm not worried exactly, but... Jake has a lot of women texting his phone," she said bluntly. "Should I be worried?"

You were kind of stunned, not that you really paid much attention to what he used his phone for. "He has other women texting him?"

Cat nodded, and you thought it wasn't fair that someone that beautiful should look so insecure. "Most of the messages are from phone numbers he hasn't saved in his contacts. And I didn't go snooping, but he's not trying to hide it. He just leaves his phone out, and then I see them."

You felt a little sick. "What are they saying to him?"

"Hey Jake, it's Brittany, haven't seen you at the bar. Or Jake, call me if you want to come over. Or my personal favorite, Wanna come over and fuck?"

"No," you gasped. "Oh my god, Cat. There's no way he's hooking up with anyone else. It's probably just some residuals."

She shrugged and picked at her own sandwich. "Well it's a lot for me. And this is kind of the reason why I didn't want to get involved months ago," she whispered, looking sheepish.

"I'll talk to him."

"No." She shook her head. "Then he'll know I told you, and I don't want to make him mad at me."

"He won't get mad at you, Cat." You wanted to be reassuring, because you really were sure he wasn't sleeping around. "Is he being sweet to you? And Jeremiah?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. She closed her eyes and whispered, "We slept together for the first time last weekend. It was... it was so good. And he's great with Jer. Like a natural." When she opened her dark eyes again she looked less calm. "I'll talk to him myself."

Then Bickel called everyone back to their seats. "The conference is picking up again," he said in such a monotone voice, you loved him even more for hating this meeting. "Could have been an email," he muttered, and everyone from your lab erupted into laughter as you took your seats.

You used the minute of confusion while everyone moved around the conference table to text Jake instead of Bradley.

I sincerely hope you have your text messages under control.

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

Bradley had already been home for a few minutes when you ran in after work. "Well? What happened?" you asked while you hopped around inside the front door as you removed your boots one at a time.

He was stretched out on the couch staring at the ceiling. "Just give me another minute. Nat's driving did a number on me."

But you strolled over and laid down right on top of him which made him laugh. "I don't want to give you another minute. I missed you."

"I missed you, too." You kissed him and Bradley ran his hands down to your lower back. "And you know I love your ass in your uniform pants."

"What happened with Dean and Slayer?" you asked, not letting him indulge just yet.

"Well, Dean will not be retiring as an Admiral, and Slayer is on a year-long leave or absence with one third pay."

You smiled instantly. "They stripped Dean's rank?"

"They sure did, Sweetheart. And they are going to force him to retire without benefits."

"Damn," you whispered as you kissed his chin. "He had it coming. They both did."

"Now onto more important things," Bradley said. "Two nights sleeping on that shitty hotel room bed made my back hurt."

"You poor, sweet thing," you crooned softly.

"I know," he murmured. "I require a bath complete with you and some champagne. And then I'm hoping you'll welcome me back to our bed in the warmest way."

"I think that can be arranged." You got up and started to unbutton your uniform shirt on your way to the refrigerator. "We have one bottle left."

When you turned back, he was already gone, and you could hear the water running in your bathroom. "Seriously?" you asked as you ran in there to find him naked as the tub filled.

"What? I missed you a lot."

The special detachment was going to feel like forever, you just knew it. And you'd be surprised if he'd be allowed to have contact with you at all for the duration. But that wasn't the only thing that you'd been thinking about this week. After he left for Lemoore, you'd read his notebook from cover to cover, and while you were certainly curious, you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

You slipped into the tub and into his open arms, the water just almost too hot to handle as he popped the champagne bottle and took a sip as it overflowed slightly. You straddled his thighs and pressed the bottle to your lips as he started a playlist on his phone.

"Roo?"

"Yeah, Sweetheart?"

He set his phone down and pulled you close as you said, "I read your notebook while you were gone."

"You'll have it memorized soon," he replied with a chuckle as he kissed your shoulder.

You took another sip of champagne before handing him the bottle. "I keep thinking about how you said you used to pick girls up before you met me, and..."

He raised one eyebrow as he drank, and then he licked his lips. "Yeah?"

"Well, I'm still curious."

He laughed and shook his head. "First of all, I was a bit of a mess before I realized I stood a chance with you and cleaned up my act. You already know that. And second, there's no way you'd have gone for any of my bullshit, I can almost guarantee that."

"But like, what were your go-to lines? What were your moves?" He tipped your chin up and looked at you closely. "Come on. Just humor me."

"God, Baby Girl. I'm sure it was all really quite embarrassing. Especially when I was younger."

You kissed his cheek and then his lips and you could feel him start to stir against your thigh. "Could you try it on me?" you asked softly. "For fun?"

Bradley's cheeks were pink and his lips tasted like champagne, and for some reason you desperately wanted to know what it would have been like if you met him five years earlier and he tried to get you to go home with him right away.

He was stroking your tattoo absentmindedly beneath the water as he eventually asked, "What exactly did you have in mind, Sweetheart?"

"Well, there's this bar..."

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

I have been excited about the next few chapters for such a long time! So happy you're here! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 19

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thechanelmuse · 11 months

Photo

Juneteenth is a Black American holiday.

We call Juneteenth many things: Black Independence Day, Freedom Day, Emancipation Day, Jubilee Day. We celebrate and honor our ancestors.

December 31 is recognized as Watch Night or Freedom’s Eve in Black American churches because it marks the day our enslaved ancestors were awaiting news of their freedom going into 1863. On January 1, 1863, President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation. But all of the ancestors wouldn’t be freed until June 19, 1865 for those in Galveston, Texas and even January 23, 1866 for those in New Jersey (the last slave state). (It’s also worth noting that our people under the Choctaw and Chickasaw Nations wouldn’t be freed until April 28, 1866 and June 14, 1866 for those under the Cherokee Nation by way of the Treaties.)

Since 1866, Black Americans in Texas have been commemorating the emancipation of our people by way of reading the Emancipation Proclamation and coming together to have parades, free festivities, and later on pageants. Thereafter, it spread to select states as an annual day of commemoration of our people in our homeland.

Here’s a short silent video filmed during the 1925 Juneteenth celebration in Beaumont, Texas:

youtube

(It’s also worth noting that the Mascogos tribe in Coahuila, Mexico celebrate Juneteenth over there as well. Quick history lesson: A total of 305,326 Africans were shipped to the US to be enslaved alongside of American Indians who were already or would become enslaved as prisoners of war, as well as those who stayed behind refusing to leave and walk the Trail of Tears to Oklahoma. In the United States, you were either enslaved under the English territories, the Dutch, the French, the Spanish, or under the Nations of what would called the Five “Civilized” Native American Tribes: Cherokee, Creek (Muscogee), Chickasaw, Choctaw, and Seminoles. Mascogos descend from the Seminoles who escaped slavery during the Seminole Wars, or the Gullah Wars that lasted for more than 100 years if you will, and then settled at El Nacimiento in 1852.)

We largely wave our red, white and blue flags on Juneteenth. These are the only colors that represent Juneteenth. But sometimes you may see others wave our Black American Heritage flag (red, black, and gold).

Juneteenth is a day of respect. It has nothing to do with Africa, diversity, inclusion, immigration, your Pan-African flag, your cashapps, nor your commerce businesses. It is not a day of “what about” isms. It is not a day to tap into your inner colonizer and attempt to wipe out our existence. That is ethnocide and anti-Black American. If you can’t attend a Black American (centered) event that’s filled with education on the day, our music, our food and other centered activities because it’s not centered around yours…that is a you problem. Respect our day for what and whom it stands for in our homeland.

Juneteenth flag creator: “Boston Ben” Haith

It was created in 1997. The red, white and blue colors represent the American flag. The five-point star represents the Lone State (Texas). The white burst around the star represents a nova, the beginning of a new star. The new beginning for Black Americans.

Black American Heritage Flag creators: Melvin Charles & Gleason T. Jackson

It was created in 1967, our Civil Rights era. The color black represents the ethnic pride for who we are. Red represents the blood shed for freedom, equality, justice and human dignity. Gold fig wreath represents intellect, prosperity, and peace. The sword represents the strength and authority exhibited by a Black culture that made many contributions to the world in mathematics, art, medicine, and physical science, heralding the contributions that Black Americans would make in these and other fields.

SN: While we’re talking about flags, I should note that Grace Wisher, a 13-year-old free Black girl from Baltimore helped stitched the Star Spangled flag, which would inspire the national anthem during her six years of service to Mary Pickersgill. I ain’t even gon hold you. I never looked too far into it, but she prob sewed that whole American flag her damn self. They love lying about history here until you start unearthing them old documents.

In conclusion, Juneteenth is a Black American holiday. Respect us and our ancestors.

#juneteenth #juneteenth flag #black american history #black american culture #ben haith #black american heritage flag #melvin charles #gleason t jackson #grace wisher #american flag #mascogos #juneteenth 2023

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taurusdesign · 11 months

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Angela Bedroom

Hi everyone!

Did you miss me? I'm sure you've missed. Sorry again for the delay. I'm trying to do my best, and it may take more time to produce even better quality items in each set. And my time management is my only weak point right now. (And my computer.) For this reason, unfortunately, the number of items in the set is decreasing.

The set consists of 26 items. I was inspired by the Pottery Barn when I was making the bed, nightstand and dress. When I was doing the set, I didn't have in mind to make a closet. But I think that became my favorite item. You can use the closet either embedded in the wall or in a normal way. I have also added many doors in case you want to customize. You can use it completely closed, half open or completely open. In addition, each door has a mirrored, glass or solid version. A closet makes up a large part of the set :( Although what could be more in a bedroom anyway. I also added a ready-made outfit layout so that you don't want to bother decorating the interior. Of course, you can arrange it yourself as you wish. The only thing that bothers me about the closet is that sometimes the doors can't snap to the closet when they're embedded in the wall. In this case, you can make the placement by moving the cabinet away from the wall. You can put it back later. The items included in the set are down below:

Double Bed Frame and Bedding

Bench

Closet

Closet Doors (12 versions)

Clothes for Closet

Dresser

Floor Mirror

Wall Mirror

Nightstand

Perfume Tray

Table Lamp (2 versions)

Vase

Wall Light

You can easily find everything included in the set by typing "Angela Bedroom".

Public Release: June 29th, 2023

AVAILABLE FOR FREE! (Sorry guys, I forgot to share)

DOWNLOAD AT PATREON

DOWNLOAD AT CURSEFORGE

I hope you'll like it.

Enjoy ❤️❤️❤️

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farfromstrange · 2 months

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Mismatched Bridesmaid | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 2 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Deciding to go to your old college roommate's wedding turns into a bad idea when you suddenly have to function as a bridesmaid until you're paired with a very handsome groomsman.

Warnings: Fluff, attempt at humor, SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "good girl", One-Night Stand, shameless flirting, kind of "horny at first sight", so cheesy it might make you hate cheese

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: I was wondering why this didn't post until I saw that I hit "save draft" instead of schedule, so this may come on time for some and too late for others, but I'm still awake, so it counts as the 15th. Also, when I wrote this it was after hinting at it on here, and I was excited at first, but I'm not too happy with it now because it's just silly and falls a little flat, in my opinion. This is why I went back in and edited a hell of a lot, adding some things, etc. Nevertheless, I promised to clear out the vault for this event, so this is it. I got inspired by seeing the She-Hulk clips when the episode with Matty came out. It may or may not be noticeable. We're also working with the Nelson, Murdock & Page narrative. Enjoy!

You are not made for white-veil occasions.

While weddings, in their essence, symbolize unity while covering different facets of romantic beauty, they are also inherently stressful for nearly everyone involved in the proceedings. Over the years of adulthood, you’ve found that weddings tend to end in disaster when you attend—and you are not particularly fond of engaging in drama.

When your old college roommate sent you an invitation to her wedding in June, you considered responding with no. You’ve been close for a few years, but then you graduated, found separate careers, and then never talked again. You weren’t sure why she would send you an invitation until you called the number on the back of the card and you began catching up. She told you that she wanted to invite you because you were a vital part of her early twenties, and it reminded you that you are both adults and you have both grown beyond what you thought possible, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell her that you couldn’t make it to her wedding. Instead, you told her that you wouldn’t miss it for the world. That answer though seemed to have turned destiny against you.

You were excited when you arrived at the chapel this morning, but as soon as your foot touched the holy ground, everything went wrong. Maybe it is because you’re an atheist and God hates you, or maybe Karma just really fucking loves toying with you. Either way, when your friend’s maid of honor—also one of the few people you hung out with during your wild college days—came up to you, looking pale and panicked, you knew that the curse you always bring to weddings was only continuing to wreak havoc.

She said to you, “One of the girls got into a car accident on her way here. Don’t worry, she’s not dead, just a broken wrist, but that means we are one bridesmaid short. I need someone to step in before Janet finds out and cuts off my head for ruining her wedding day,” and she was deadly serious about it, too.

You knew that it was a mistake to come to this wedding, especially without a date or a plus-one to fall back on.

You were so focused on marveling at the beautiful white and golden decorations living the aisle, fantasizing about the day you might be walking down one of those that you didn’t think anything could go wrong since everything had been going so right. You should have known better than to trust that treacherous feeling of excitement that you made sure to nurture before breakfast so you could enjoy the ceremony and the party afterward without making it dependent on the open bar—although that fact did help.

Instead of dreaming about free drinks though, you’re being squeezed into a satin green dress with a low cut in the front, and someone you don’t know is slathering burgundy lipstick onto your lips. They are purposely trying to turn you into a copy of all the other bridesmaids, and you hate it. You hate it so much you get the sudden urge to scratch your eyes out and tear the skin off your lips.

Janet, the maid of honor, comes back up to you. She’s aged at least ten years since you last saw her when she pulled you away from the aisle. You feel for her. The entire weight of this wedding rests on her shoulders.

She eyes you, checking your outfit, before giving you a curt nod. “Thank God, you’re hot,” she mutters. You’re not sure if you were supposed to hear it.

“Thank you?” you answer awkwardly.

“Alright.” She fixes the corners of your lipstick. “We need to pair you with a different guy than Miss I-Don’t-Know-How-To-Drive was supposed to walk down the aisle with. Your looks don’t match. You’ll get Kathy’s partner,” she says. “And we need to line up, like, now because shit is happening in five minutes, not a second later. We can’t give Bridezilla the time to kill us all.”

With a frown, you ask, “Is she aware at all of what’s happening?”

Janet shakes her head. “No, and it’s better this way. Trust me.”

You stop questioning her. She knows what she’s doing.

When she guides you outside to line up, you’re not sure what to expect. You don’t know the groom, and you don’t know his friends. You’re here on your own, and now you’re part of a bridal party that you are also barely familiar with, wearing a dress that you were forced into for the sake of aesthetics. You hate when something is reduced to aesthetics because beauty has many facets, and you would have walked down that aisle with anyone as long as you could get it over with.

Until you see him. Strikingly dark hair in a perfectly cut tuxedo that underlines the muscles hiding underneath the fabric. His eyes are hidden behind round, red glasses that reflect the sunlight coming in through the already stained glass of the chapel’s windows. In his hands, he’s holding a white cane, leaning his entire weight on it as he waits. And he waits for none other than you.

Janet paired you with the most beautiful man on this planet, you can’t deny that. The way he stands there, his sharp jawline on full display—he looks ethereal. Just looking at him makes you sweat, and you’re starting to panic. What if she made a mistake? You can’t do this. You can’t—

“Matt,” she says and shoves you beside him into the line of bridesmaids and groomsmen.

Janet introduces you, and then she’s gone. She pushes you into the cold water, forcing you to learn how to swim.

He tilts his head in your direction. “Hi,” he says. The sound of his voice resembles the purr of a black cat as it reverberates, but his grin reminds you of the Devil himself.

Fuck. Me.

You either did something very wrong to land here, or you did everything right.

“Hi,” you stammer. One look at him, and the blood rushes to your cheeks. Your face is burning.

He offers you his hand. “I’m Matt,” he says as if Janet didn’t already expose that to you.

Still, you take his hand. It’s the polite thing to do. “And I’m not supposed to be here.” Mentally, you curse yourself for being so stupid.

Matt chuckles. Even his laugh sounds bittersweet. Like dark chocolate. “I, uh, gathered as much.”

“I’m sorry,” you bite your lip, “I’m not—this is really weird. I don’t even know what to say.” You pray for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, maybe that will make it less embarrassing.

His features soften. There is no judgment. You can’t see his eyes, but there is a certain softness about him that throws you off guard, but you no longer feel like you’re drowning. “If it helps, I’m only here because I helped the groom graduate law school by writing his essays, and he feels like he owes me, so…I also don’t want to be here,” he says, and he reaches up to adjust his glasses. You get a small glimpse of his eyes. They’re hazel. Beautiful. He has an aura that draws you in; it’s not just his physical beauty that strikes you.

This man—this magnetic force of a man called Matt—is a stranger. He’s a man you were paired with to walk down the aisle even though you were never meant to be a bridesmaid in this wedding in the first place. So many things are happening to and around you at once, and you can feel the flames starting to burn and sizzle away at your skin.

You should pull yourself together. You shouldn’t stare at him. You shouldn’t listen to your heart which is hammering against your ribcage. But the emotions are already running high and you can’t possibly focus on anything else. He’s like a lifeline to you.

And God, you want him to put those calloused hands on your skin and take you to bed. But that’s not something to think about in a place of God. On the day of someone else’s wedding. Except that you can’t think of anyone else, and his proximity isn’t making the situation any better for you.

Another blush threatens to take over your features. “Oh, you’re a lawyer?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “I have a firm. Nelson, Murdock & Page.”

“Here in New York?”

“Hell’s Kitchen, yeah. Me and my associates just reopened our doors to the public after a rough year.”

“Oh, that’s...cool. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you. And what do you do, if I may ask?”

His interest takes you off guard, but you don’t hesitate to answer his question. You tell him your profession, and how you met the bride, and he listens without another word. No man has ever paid you this much attention before.

Though Janet meant it when she said that you will have to start walking in exactly five minutes, not a second longer. She passed by everyone, handing out bouquets. Green with hints of red and gold. It fits the theme. They’re beautiful, but the flowers within the bouquet become a problem when she hands you your own set.

“Janet,” you stop her from leaving. “I can’t take these.”

“The fuck you can’t,” she retorts.

“Seriously, I can’t. I’m allergic to Jasmines. I’ll sneeze.”

She glares at you. “Then fucking hold it.”

There is no arguing with her, and she passes by you to continue putting everyone in their places. You stare down at the bouquet, your nose already starting to itch. The smell alone is enough to make you nauseous.

To your surprise, Matt reaches for the flowers. “May I?” he asks, but he has already grabbed a hold of them.

“Sure,” you answer, curious about where he’s going with this.

“Hold this.” He guides the top of his cane into your hand.

His fingers feel along the red ribbon. He takes a whiff. There are so many scents that would be overwhelming even to someone without heightened senses due to a lacking fifth one, so you’re even more surprised when he finds the Jasmines without a struggle. He traces the petals just to make sure, and he quickly pulls the flowers out of the bouquet, tightening the ribbon around the now smaller girth in the process.

Tossing them behind one of the pillars in the corridor, he hands them back to you. “Here,” he murmurs. “For you.”

Words elude you.

“Are you allergic to anything else?” The question is valid, considering you’re still not making a move to take the bouquet from him.

You exhale a shaky breath, reaching for the flowers, and answer without missing another beat, “Weddings.”

That elicits a giggle from him. The sound is enough to make your heart melt. Does he know what he’s doing to you?

Matt opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of heels clicking against the marble floors stops you both dead in your tracks.

Your entire body recoils when the bride’s voice rings out, echoing, “Who the fuck mismatched my bridesmaids?”

A hand rests on your bicep, and you don’t even have to look down to know that it is Matt’s. He’s the only one standing to your right, anyway. He squeezes as though to let you know that you won’t lose your head, but you’re not so sure now that your college roommate is glaring at you in a white dress that reminds you of a pastry, and her eyes are full of fury. He can’t see it, but he would cower in fear if he did.

Thankfully, Janet pulls her aside, explaining the situation to her.

“She what?!” she screeches. “On my wedding day? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, because car accidents respect timing when it comes to special occasions,” Janet counters.

You snort. Matt beside you digs his teeth into his bottom lip, but even he can’t hide his amusement.

“Oh, snap,” you mutter under your breath.

“Shots have been fired,” he says.

“I think we’re witnessing a double homicide.”

“I’m not a very credible witness. I can only describe how it sounded, unfortunately.”

Your snort turns into a laugh. The bride’s head snaps around, and you go quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” you choke out.

“If she decides to throw a punch at your pretty face,” Matt’s breath tickles your ear, “I can be your attorney and sue her ass.”

This time, you’re conscious enough to slap a hand in front of your mouth to stifle your reaction. “How do you know I’m pretty?” you whisper back between little giggles.

He shrugs with a smirk of his own. “I just know.”

He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, and you have no choice but to submit.

Janet manages to bring some calm back to her friend eventually, and then it’s showtime. Right on the second, it’s time for you to walk down the aisle, and you have never been happier about a strict schedule and someone adamant about keeping that schedule for the sake of all of your lives.

Your roommate has always been a very dominant personality, so you’re aware of the things she can do when she doesn’t get what she wants.

An 80s pop ballad begins to play. You make sure to match your pace to everyone else but also make sure that you’re not running away from your partner.

You may have been a mismatched bridesmaid, but you can’t complain about the company.

Against all odds, the service is beyond beautiful. It’s not often you get to stand so close when two people who seem to truly love each other make a vow to be there for each other for the rest of their lives. You can’t help but shed a tear. They complement each other perfectly. Is that ever in the cards for you? Will you ever be able to have what they have? Or will you always feel like you’re not worthy of this kind of unconditional love and endless devotion—of someone wanting to spend the rest of their life with you?

You look over at Matt. The hint of a cross necklace is starting to peek out underneath his dress shirt. Of course, he’s Catholic.

He carries himself with such a grace that puts everyone else in this room to shame. Does he know that you’re staring at him? You hope not.

After the ceremony, you lose sight of Matt in the masses. He doesn’t owe you a goodbye, but you still feel a little disappointed when you return to the dressing room and finally peel the satin dress off of your very sweaty skin.

At the party afterward, he’s still nowhere to be found. You give up. Not that you want to spend the evening with him anyway, but you kind of do. You drown your sorrows in a glass of vodka cranberry and a bowl of olives. They taste like rotten meat, but there are too many people by the buffet for your liking. The last thing you want to do is mingle and get asked stupid questions by people you don’t even know. So, you stay back, and you watch from afar as everyone is having the time of their lives not so far away from you, but far enough for you to breathe.

“And here I thought weddings were supposed to be a joyous occasion,” Matt pipes up beside you, and you twirl around in your chair to face him with wide eyes.

You didn’t expect to see him back here. “Hi!” you exclaim. “What’re you—I thought you left.”

“Nah,” he says. “I just had to take care of some things.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

He smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, that’s why I asked.”

Folding his cane, Matt lowers himself down on one of the chairs beside you and orders himself a beer with the bartender. “Let’s just say that I have an important court case coming up and I had to make a call.”

You take another sip from your drink. “That sounds a lot more exciting than my life, to be honest.”

“You are sulking at a wedding. Thinking about an ex?”

“More like life in general.”

“Ah, yes, the eternal fear of dying alone.” He raises his bottle to yours. “I’ll drink to that.”

A laugh escapes you. “That was cynical,” you say.

“And you’re not?”

He beats you at your own damn game, and he finally gets that smile he has been vying for.

“Are you smiling?” his voice is barely above a whisper.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “Maybe.” But the smile is audible in your voice, giving you away.

Matt smirks, nodding his head. “Good girl.”

The sharp vodka runs down the wrong pipe. You cough. Did he just—

He did.

He pats your back, and his hand lingers a lot longer than it should. He looks so smug. Pleased with himself. That part of him is stupidly attractive to you, even though you would usually hate such cockiness in any other man. But Matt isn’t like any other man.

You apologize for your reaction, but he should be the one apologizing to you for throwing you off your game. What is he doing? You can’t read him. You wish you could because that would make this so much easier, but that’s probably the point. He wants to tease you. He wants to mess with your head. He’s a dick. A fucking attractive dick that could tell you to do just about anything and you in your flustered state would go along with it without hesitations. That’s the kind of control he has over you, and you just met. It feels like a twisted form of destiny, but you can’t quite believe it. Yet.

“Do you always do that?” you dare to ask.

He frowns. “Do what?”

“Flirt with women who were forced to be bridesmaids even though they were only supposed to be guests?”

A playful smirk plays on his lips.

“It’s been known to happen,” says Matt.

You poke your tongue against the soft tissue of your cheek. “Cheeky,” you murmur.

“That’s also been known to happen.”

“What, being cheeky with—”

“—with women who were forced to be bridesmaids even though they were only supposed to be guests? Yes.” He’s catching on quickly.

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, that.”

“I do have to say though,” he adds, and for a second you think he might ruin the joke instead of playing it out further, but Matt is full of surprises, “Out of all the mismatched bridesmaids I’ve met in my thirty-something years of, um, living, you’re my favorite so far.”

With your hand, you start fanning your face rather dramatically. “I feel honored,” you say.

Again, he chuckles. “You should be.”

“Why, because you’re so irresistible?”

“I was going to say that I don’t like a lot of people because, you know, they’re dicks, but that works too.”

“Wow.” You take another sip. The liquor burns its way down your sore esophagus. “You have balls, man.”

“Is that a problem?” he counters with a question.

The answer comes naturally. “No,” you say. “I like it.”

“Good.” Hearing you clink the ice cubes against your empty glass by swirling it around, Matt concludes that you need a refill. “Can I get you another drink?” he asks.

The question sounds so innocent, but the look on his face renders you speechless. His hand inches dangerously close to yours on the counter, his knee brushing yours, and the heat shoots straight to your neglected cunt.

Fuck this.

“You could do that, or we could skip that part and just…you know.”

One brush of your hand against his thigh, that’s all it takes for him to know.

Pushing you through the door to his apartment a few minutes later, his lips are on you. The door falls shut with a loud bang, and he presses you against the wall of his hallway.

His lips feel like a silky cloud of lewdness. The way he kisses you is utterly erotic. Your lips part in a delicious moan that he swallows with a grunt of his own. He swallows it all, shoving his tongue into the tight confines of your mouth, and exploring every inch he can reach. He tastes you. He consumes you.

His hands desperately search for an ounce of bare skin. He’s tugging at your clothes, sliding and tearing them aside. Once his fingers finally brush over the bare skin of your stomach, he melts.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Your leg hooks around his waist. You can’t wait. He has ignited a fire within you that no one has been able to light before. He’s touching you with a precision that puts your former lovers to shame. He’s paying attention to your every breath and heartbeat, and with every touch, he asks, “May I?”

You don’t even make it to the bedroom. Once he has successfully removed the bottom half of your clothes, he falls to his knees. He is a sight to behold. The disarray of colors that shines into his apartment illuminates his face, bathing it in a selection of hues that bring out his best features.

Matt has yet to take off his glasses, and you take the opportunity to tear them away from his face. You’re gentle though. You ask him, “May I?” mirror the question he has been asking you throughout the night, and after a thick swallow, he nods.

You caress his cheek as you remove his glasses, and when you finally see his hazel eyes in all of their glory, you have to bow down to capture his lips in a soft kiss.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper. “So fucking beautiful, Matt.”

He whimpers. You could have sworn to have imagined it, but when you stroke his cheek with such a gentleness it almost makes him recoil in anguish, you know that you didn’t imagine the sound from his lips. You kiss it away. You kiss all of his insecurities away. You want him to feel as good as he is making you feel. You don’t know him, but you want to get to know him, and if he’s ready to surrender himself to you, you are more than ready to do the same for him. He can feel that with every brush of your fingertips and every kiss you deliver to his plump lips that taste like heaven and hell in itself.

Your words don’t leave him cold. His cock is aching in his pants—you take note of his impressionable size, which only makes you more excited for what’s to come—but he refuses to take it out. Not until you’re fully satisfied. To be honest, you could come just from staring at him on his knees in front of you, looking like he would lay the world to your feet and kill everyone who has ever dared to hurt you, but that is not enough for him.

He needs the experience. Feeling your skin, tasting you, and breathing in all facets of your natural scent mixed with the artificial one from your shampoo. He can’t get enough of it. Of you. Of everything about and within you. He’s as attracted to your body as he is consumed by your soul. You’ve got him in a deadlock, but he would never complain about that.

You gasp when Matt grabs your thigh and throws it over his shoulder. Your panties are gone within seconds, torn on the floor somewhere. You’re completely bare to him.

You want to warn him that you didn’t shave, but he doesn’t care.

Before you know it, he has flattened his tongue against your pussy, and he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit.

“Fuck!” you cry out, reaching for support on the wall behind you.

He flicks the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, testing the waters before he sucks it into his mouth.

His grip on your thigh becomes bruising. Matt eats you out like he has been starving for years and you are his first and last meal. He sucks on your clit, and he fucks you with his tongue. Your pussy is the altar he worships at. Your arousal is his holy water. He dives deeper and deeper into the wetness between your thighs, and he moans loudly when you pull at his hair.

“Fuck, Matt–” You’re clawing at whatever you can find. It feels so good. You’re higher than you have ever been.

The sound of his mouth working your slick folds toward eternal bliss is obscene and utterly sinful. His stubble scratches against your inner thighs. The pain grounds you in the here and now, making you focus on the tidal wave that is about to crash into you and tear you to shreds.

You can’t even warn him before your orgasm takes over, and it takes you into another dimension. You come with a shout of his name. It’s nothing short of explosive. The orgasm drags on through his mouth on your clit, relentlessly sucking until the nerves jump, and you’re begging him to stop.

His face glistens. With every kiss up your body, Matt marks you. By the time he has reached your quivering lips, he still tastes like you.

“You did so well,” he whispers. “Such a good girl for me.”

You exhale. Without his shoulders to hold onto, you would probably lose your footing. “You’re crazy,” is all you can say.

He smirks. “In a good way, I hope.”

“Yes. Fuck.”

“Regret coming home with me?”

“Absolutely not.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He lifts you with ease. “Then I’m going to make it worth your while.”

And when your back hits the soft mattress and silk sheets of his bed, you don’t doubt that he is going to make good on his promise.

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #daredevil x reader #reader insert #lizzi’s vault #charlie cox

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