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ginkgo-phyta · 3 months

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Can I request Spencer (later seasons, post prison era) gifting his gf an initial necklace, but the pendant is his initial?

i.e.

"This is nice, Spence, but my name doesn't start with an 'S'."

"Yeah, but mine does, and you're mine."

Feel free to take it as far as you like 😏

A/N: ehehe yes ofc, i love thissss, but also a lil funny bc my name DOES start with an S :P so imma change the dialogue a bit. keepin dis sweet- there is a lil steamy moment for like two sentences however mostly this is fluff, hope you enjoy it, my love!

Fluff, no warnings (?), gender neutral language (im p sure, lemme know if i missed something!), 2.5k words

Spencer’s apartment is flooded with the music of joy; light jazz pours from an old style radio in the living room, your shared laughter tumbles into the rest of the place from the small kitchen, the sound of knives and forks scraping decorated ceramic plates signals the end of a well-enjoyed meal.

It was date-night for the two of you, a rare occurrence as of late due to Spencer’s teaching commitment. Initially, you were excited, thinking you would be getting more of him to yourself. You kept that thought to yourself, though, seeing how upset he initially was at not being able to help his team in the way he wanted to. That exhilaration was shut down particularly quickly as Spencer had begun bringing his work home with him. When he was working only as a profiler, sure he’d be away from you most of the time, but when he came home he’d spend all of his time present and in the moment. Now, at times, having him home almost felt worse than when he’d be away.

In the moment, however, everything was perfect. This is how you wished every night could be. The two of you bumping shoulders as you both prepare dinner; glasses of wine clinking with a cheers; old love songs serenading your flushed ears as Spencer pulls you into his arms to delicately waltz around the kitchen; his balmy eyes peering down into yours, speaking words of love and comfort. This serene feeling of domesticity was addicting. Life had been a whirlwind the past year, with it only being about six months since Spencer came home from prison. Things were jarringly different at first, both of your lives changing the way being wrongfully imprisoned changed Spencer, but you didn’t care. You could fight every battle life threw your way as long as your beautiful boy was by your side. Some days were more difficult than others, when Spencer would be reminded of the atrocities he witnessed in jail or what he had to do to survive. He’d isolate himself, snap at you, or push you away; but this evening was a good night- it almost felt like you had your old lover back.

“Dinner was delicious, angel.” Spencer beamed at you from the other side of his compact dining table, using his cloth napkin to wipe at the corners of his lips.

“Well,” you chuckled, pushing out of your seat to collect both of your plates, “you helped me, that’s probably why.”

Spencer quickly followed your movements, whisking the dishes out of your hands with a sweet kiss pressed to your cheek before taking them to the sink. “It was all you, beautiful.” he had whispered against your skin while leaving your side.

You silently shook your head, picking up your wine and water glasses to be washed. “Should I dry?” you questioned as he turned on the faucet, pulling a tea towel from the cabinet below you.

Spencer shook his head, “It’s okay, they can air dry.” he spoke with a little shrug.

“Okay!” you responded bright-eyed, throwing the towel down onto the counter next to you, a bit too excited at the prospect of not doing anything. Your reaction peeled an infectious laugh from Spencer's beautifully cerise lips, his nose scrunching involuntarily. You could stand there and just watch him exist for the rest of eternity.

And you did just that for a minute, took in the sight of him humming along to the jazz standard wafting in from the other room, engrossed in scrubbing the food stuck to the pans you cooked in. His jawline and upper-lip were shadowed in scruff, trailing down the sides of his Adam’s apple. His hair was long now, wavy and pushed back from his face, exposing his strong forehead and giving you unrestricted access to gaze into his gentle cinnamon eyes. The years passing changed his appearance in so many ways, and you loved every bit of it. Your eyes trailed down to graze over the top of his chest, exposed by the first few buttons of his deep cerulean shirt undone; they moved over the slopes of his broad shoulders, and down to his arms working steadfast to clean up the remnants of your meal. It didn’t escape Spencer how you were drinking him in without a care in the world, paying no mind to his elbow occasionally bumping into your torso.

“You having fun there?” he teased with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, eyes never leaving the task at hand. His words spurred you forward.

You simply hummed in response as you moved to stand behind him, your front pressing firmly into his back. Spencer’s eyebrow arched questioningly, but he kept his mouth shut, simply letting you do as you pleased. Your head peeked over one side of his arm, hands sliding down until they reached the cuff of his sleeve. Deftly, you began folding them up, “Just helpin you,” you mumbled as a throwaway explanation, moving to his other side to do the same. Fingernails scratched at his newly exposed forearms, your muffled giggle turning Spencer’s smirk into a wide grin. “Done!” you announced, wrapping your arms around his abdomen before nuzzling your face into his broad back. Over the barrier of fabric, the running water, and the sound of his scrubbing Spencer barely heard you ask, “Didn’t I help so much?”

His chuckle sent vibrations into your cheek, “Yes, honey, you were a big help. Thank you.” Content, you pushed your face further into his shirt.

The two of you stood like that for a few more minutes, Spencer trying his best not to move too much in order to keep you comfortable. You haven’t back-hugged him like this since before he was framed, and he didn’t realize how much he missed it until this moment. He washed the dishes a bit slower than normal, reveling in the heart-warming scene. Soon, however, he was done.

As soon as he turned off the water, you were off him, moving to pick up the once-forgotten tea towel and face him, leaning against the edge of the sink. “Thank you for your service, soldier.” you unseriously saluted before taking each of his dripping hands in his and patting them dry.

A titter broke through his smile as Spencer reverently gazed down at you, the way your eyes twinkled under the soft-yellow lights of his old kitchen, your beautiful hands turning his own over to attack any remaining droplets of water, your eyebrows twitching reflexively here and there in focus. The first time he laid eyes on you all those years ago he was shot in the heart by Cupid’s arrow, and it has stayed there, firm in place, ever since.

As soon as you were done, Spencer softly cupped your face in his palms, your fingers wrapping around his wrists as he tilted your head up to look at him. He leaned down, pushing a passionate, yet gentle kiss onto your mouth. Before you could deepen it, he pulled away just enough to mumble, “I have something for you.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you looked up at him in confusion as he pressed one more peck to your lips before moving into the other room, your hands chasing after him. Once his words processed in your brain you perked up, excitedly following behind him.

“You got me a gift?” You question, reaching where Spencer stood at the side table by the front door, right in front of the intricate, gold trimmed mirror you hung up just last week. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched Spencer pick up the weekly newspaper, “Uh, you got me the…local paper?”

With a roll of his eyes, Spencer wordlessly pulled you to him by the waist, mimicking your earlier actions by pressing his front into your back. You stumbled a bit, catching yourself by grabbing onto the forearm wrapped around your torso, holding you up, Spencer’s fingers digging into your waist. You peer at him curiously through the mirror before he whispers in your ear.

“Look,” he motions down with his chin, and you do as you’re told. Spencer moves the haphazardly folded newspaper to the side, revealing a glimmering deep emerald velvet box. From the size of it, you could tell it was some jewelry other than a ring. You gasped in shock, not even having seen its contents. “Spencer…” your voice was meek and unbelieving.

He watched you through the mirror, his cheek pressed against your temple as he opened the box before you. Your alluring eyes widened to their limits, hands flying up to cover your mouth. Your gaze whizzed to meet your lover in the reflection, “You got me a necklace??” your words dripped with incredulity. Spencer had gifted you generously in the past- rare books, handmade accessories, clothing you had your eye on, tickets to see your favorite artists live- but never before had he bought you jewelry. You never minded, content with wanting the first piece he gives you to be an engagement ring. That being said, this surprise moved you immensely. You took in the gorgeous necklace shining proudly up at you. A dainty chain in the metal you wore the most, in the middle sat a heart-shaped locket, no bigger than the tip of your pinky-finger. Before you could speak again, Spencer shifted to open the locket for you, revealing two pictures. One was older, taken at JJ’s wedding; Penelope had been going around taking photos of everyone and as soon as she neared the two of you, Spencer scooped you up into his arms as if you were the bride. The moment frozen in time showed you in the midst of a bellowing laugh, clutching to Spencer’s shoulders in shock, with your boyfriend looking upon you as if you were an angel incarnate, an equally wide smile plastered across his face. The second photo was more recent; you had invited the whole team out to a picnic brunch shortly after Spencer was released and this time Emily was the one taking candid photos. The two of you were cozying up at the edge of the yellow gingham blanket, Spencer's arms wrapped tightly around your figure rested between his legs. In the photo, his hand was cupping your jaw, tilting your face up to bring your lips close to his, the snapshot proudly showcasing his grinning mouth just centimeters from your own with the sunlight stretching out in the background.

“Oh, Spencer,” you were at a loss of words, your fingers hesitantly tracing the silhouette of the pendant, “It’s so beautiful, my favorite pictures…” you murmured.

Spencer hummed and nodded in response, setting the box down to take the necklace out of its confines. He straightened behind you, stretching the necklace out in front of your face, “Let me put it on you, baby.” he whispered, mouth barely moving.

You happily obliged as he brought the chain closer to your neck, moving your hair to one side to better allow him to clasp it behind you. Spencer watched you the whole time through the mirror while your eyes were fixated on the necklace. The cold metal of the locket hitting your warm skin caused a minuscule gasp to part your plump lips, but Spencer noticed it all. The way your chest rose and fell faster, chasing after your quickened heart; the way you drew your bottom lip in between your teeth; your uncertain hands grasping at his trouser legs behind you. Once the chain was secured, the locket resting perfectly in the dip of your collar bones, Spencer placed soft, warm kisses to the exposed skin of your shoulders and neck, holding eye contact with you with each; even as he moved your hair to dutifully pepper the other side. You sighed as his arms returned to engulf your waist, tighter than before, your hands moved to rest on top of his. He noticed your eyelids flutter close just for a moment, taking him in, before they opened again and your gaze shifted back down to the reflection of the necklace. Your eyes glinted with uncertainty upon noticing the engraving on the locket you hadn’t fully processed earlier.

“‘S’...” you spoke, reading the letter dangling from your neck. You kept your inflection steady, trying to make it seem like you knew exactly what it stood for, but Spencer knew you better than that. Before you could make any assumptions, he spoke up.

“For ‘Spencer’.” he stated matter-of-factly, his face moving up from your shoulder to rest against your temple again.

You smiled at him, more confused than before, “But aren’t you supposed to put my initials on it. You know, cuz it’s my necklace?”

“No,” he murmured sternly against your hair. Spencer’s left hand slipped down to grab onto your right hip, his right hand traveling up your sternum to thumb over the locket before splaying out to rest just below your throat, the heart pendant resting on the back of his hand.

Another, louder gasp sucked through your lips as Spencer tugged you closer to him, your back arched a bit as it stretched, bum pushing into his groin.

“I put my initial,” he started again, heading dipping down to mouth against the shell of your ear, his eyes looking at you in the mirror through his cocoa lashes had you biting your lip, “Because you’re mine. And now everyone will know it.”

Suddenly, you whipped around in Spencer’s arms, throwing your own over and around his neck, hugging his body close to yours. He stumbled back a bit in shock, grabbing onto your lower back to steady himself before a laugh shook through his shoulders.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you enthusiastically repeated, pressing kisses along his stubbled jawline with every word. “I love it so much, Spencer.” you pulled back all the way to stare up at him, gaze filled with genuinity. One of your hands remained on the back of his neck, the other coming down to fiddle with the locket, “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

His previously mischievous demeanor melted off his back as Spencer drank in how you dripped sweetness. “I’m so happy to hear you say that, honey.” His hands rubbed up and down your back. “I know things have been…complicated lately. I’ve been distant and cold, which I want to apologize for, but you’ve been beside me through it all. You’re my rock, and I just wanted to show you a bit of my gratitude.”

You shook your head as you pushed up onto your tippy-toes to kiss him again, the hand on your locket moving to lightly scratch at the side of his neck.

“I’m all yours,” you muttered against his lips, tilting your head to the other side to slot yours upon them again. You pulled away after a couple seconds, “You don’t have to thank me, my love. I know you would do the same for me.” You pressed a few more kisses to Spencer’s supple lips before pulling back again, causing him to huff. “Are you mine?” you whisper.

Innocent doe-eyes coupled with a small pout had a quiet groan dragging from Spencer’s throat. He brought a hand up to trace your bottom lip with his thumb before tangling his fingers in your hair,

“I’m yours, baby.” he nodded. “Only yours.” With that, he pulled you back in for a sensual kiss.

A/N: omg sorry if this sucks im so sleepy right nowwwww it took so long to write this for some reason i cant process words properly but i wanted to finish this! i loved writing this piece, and i hope y'all like reading it. ANON! how'd i do?

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction

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princessbrunette · 24 days

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he always promised to take you on more dates when he got out of jail, and jj was a man of his word.

a gross, seedy dive bar on the outskirts of town wasn’t exactly what you had in mind — but jj was all over it. he was said to have been locked up with a couple of the guys that work there now, and would be able to score the two of you a couple of free drinks, and that was enough to convince you. plus, you didn’t really care where you went with jj — you were just happy to be able to spend time with him again.

“look, if my probation officer has no problem with me bein’ here, it’s clearly safe. you got nothin’ to worry about — i know these guys.” jj grins reassuringly, noticing your unsure expression as he opens the door to his truck for you. “now would i bring you somewhere if i wasn’t one thousand percent sure you’d be alright? no. that would be like, neglecting my duty of care for my girlfriend. just wasn’t raised that way, mama.” you raise an eyebrow as he loops an arm around your waist, walking you towards the door — internally questioning what he meant considering he practically wasn’t raised by anyone.

there’s a chorus of his name when he walks in and you shy to his side, clinging to his arm. he meets and greets, before the attention is turned to you, smiling bashfully through the ‘and this must be the famous girlfriend. you know we thought maybank was lyin’ about you.’ along with all the usual banter.

the real fun doesn’t start for a few hours. the place has cleared out a little, and you’re a couple of drinks in, feeling a lot more loose and comfortable. your boyfriend nurses the same beer he’s had for a while now, making a conscious effort not to go over the legal driving limit because he could not afford to get sent back into the slammer over something so dumb. for entertainment, the two of you are stationed at a pool table in some dimly lit corner, feeling your body get hotter just at the blonde explaining the rules of the game.

“you wanna hit this ball with this ball, n’get it into this hole. i already know you’re gonna be a pro at this, okay — i have full faith in you.” he chuckles, because you both know it’s likely not to be true. he passes you the cue stick, giving your ass a little pat in gesture to position yourself. “bend over the table a lil’ f’me.” he instructs, eyeing the table before smirking at his own double entendre. “i know y’know how to do that, atleast.”

you bite your lip, containing your growing excitement — but can’t help yourself from making a real show of it, lining up your stick with the ball and really laying your body on the table to have your ass practically stuck in the air. whilst you’ve been tugging your mini skirt down all night, you finally just let it ride up to the bottom crescent of your ass cheeks. the cherry on top was the way you glance over your shoulder, pouting your glossy lips.

“like this, jayj?”

he’s glancing around the room for any watchers before cementing his vision to the sight of your panties peeking from beneath your skirt. “yeah, yeah just like that actually.” he’s distracted, and shakes himself out of it to lean over you and adjust your hand placement on the stick. “there y’go, atta girl. like i said, total pro.” he praises and to retaliate, you press your ass into his crotch making him clear his throat. “dont start sumn’ you can’t finish, lil girl.” he chides teasingly, as he backs up a little, eyeing you — but you can tell he’s getting wound up.

“not doin’ anything.” you smile impishly, practically waving your lace panties at him as your skirt rides up even more. he steps closer protectively, looking around as he scratches beneath his nose — making sure no one else can get a peek.

“nah? well in that case, don’t mind if i do…” his eyes are flitting round still cautiously as a hand slips between you, skilfully forcing your panties aside and sliding his fingers through your glossy folds. he smirks, brows jumping up and his tongue poking out to fiddle with the corner of his mouth. “oh? wha’s got you so excited mama? i dunno you must really like playin’ pool. you’re soaked.” he teases, licking his lips and leaning down to speak to you a little quieter. you pretend to continue lining up your shot, but your hands get shaky and you can’t keep the cue stick still.

“just happy to have my man back.” you admit sweetly which is the final straw for him. he pulls your skirt back down and steps away, making a real show of licking the residue of his fingers.

“right, right — y’know i hear the bathrooms here are like, super spacious. we should pro’lly go check it out, right? see what all the hype’s about.” he nods casually, helping you stand up straight.

“but jj, what about our game of pool?” you pout theatrically knowing you don’t really care. he turns to you, cornering you against the table.

“well i mean, i’m suggesting the bathroom out of respect. trust me, i got no issue gettin’ all in those guts right here on the table infront’a everyone. s’your call, babydoll.” he thumbs at your chin and your lashes flutter as an immediate response, feeling your mind go to mush.

“uhm… bathroom.” you agree shyly and he nods with a simple smile, patting your cheek.

“tha’s the spirit cupcake. that pool table ain’t goin’ anywhere.” jj commends, leading you by the lower back to the glowing bathroom sign on the wall.

#heard you guys missed criminal jj #jj maybank prompt #criminal!jj #sakuragifs has the best gifs

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hoesformatt · 3 months

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PUT ME ON THE PHONE

2ND DAY OF RIYAH’S BADNESS MARATHON

chris smut, this was inspired by the Mariah the Scientist jail calls (y’all can never make me hate mariah)

dom!chris • poc!reader friendly

contains: mutual masturbation, sending of nudes (not shown), sexting, pet names, sex talk, no use of y/n

word count: 0.5k (its short BUT BARE W ME IT’S GOOD)

the italic is the texts

not-proofread

I missed my man. Long-distance is not for the weak, and not only am I the week but I’m the horny, the in-need of physical touch and the aroused. You get what I mean; and it didn’t help that my boyfriend is sexy as fuck and never failed to get me wet, over the screen and in-person.

I’ve been touch-deprived for weeks (the day after he left), and all I could think about is him. I would totally touch myself or use a toy while thinking about him but it’s not the same as Chris using his slim and long fingers compared to mine.

Sitting on my bed half-nude with my ass out in a thong and close to popping a titty in my low-cut cropped shirt. Getting on my phone, I decided to finally shoot him a text;

Chris I miss you

My horniness quickly came over, I barely paced on if I should send him a photo, I propped my phone against the headboard as I was sitting on my feet to then begin to arch my back taking a Live Photo of my arch making it a disappearing message sending it to go back and message him.

I wish you were here to put it on me

The texts showed read instantly and the bubbles of him typing showed up

I love when I get off filming and you send me things like this

I miss you too mama

Missing seeing you arch your back like that for me

Call me

The call went through a few seconds Chris put up his phone camera on and the first thing I was flashed with was Chris fucking his fists. “Are you gonna touch yourself for me baby?”

I agreed putting my phone back on the headboard as before, pulling my thong to the side and licking my middle finger. Pushing into my seeping cunt, erotic sounds waving through the phone and Chris stroking his lengthy cock.

“You’re pussy is wet for me mama?” I nodded my head with my mouth wide open “Take those tits out for me” I lifted up my top, my perky breasts dropping out my shirt as I grabbed one if them toying with my nipples.

Playing with my pussy we exchanged moans, watching each other on the screens, “Chris I wish it was your fingers, I wish it was you hands touching me—Shit” with my lips split, I saw Chris pumping his twitching dick. Struggling to gasp for air, I strung my puffy clit then rolling my eyes back with the pleasure prickling my skin.

Jerking his cock, Chris threw his head back groaning loudly as pre-cum streamed out his dick and he rubbed it over his tip. “Oh fuckkk— I need that tight pussy of yours baby” He choked on his moans.

“Shit!” My actions slowed down as my creamy juices fell and coated my fingers and I pulled them out. “Fuck i’m cumming, i’m cum— hnghh~” Chris came on the camera, covering the lenses with his fluids.

“Taste yourself for me” I stuck my fingers in my mouth licking off the remaining moisture from my fingers. “I miss you daddy”

“I miss you too mama, when I come down there I’m gonna stretch you out” I grin showing-off my nude body to him and he thirsted.

tags: @chrisenthusiast @miguelsangel @lunariaxzz @thesturniolos @angelic-sturniolos111 @littlebookworm803 @chrissturniolosbitch @leahsbussy @luv4kozume @alinaa131 @sturniolopowers @mattslolita @sturniofilmd @sturnioloooooo @mattsneezing @muwapsturniolo @idkwhosnyla @strniohoeee @iiheartstef @nonamegirlxsturniolo @ka1nani @1800chokedathoe @fuzzycupcakebeliever @mattgirly @me4chris @mattslutt t @nicksmainbitch @luhsexcbihh @hearts4chriss

#chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #hoesformatt #fan fiction #fan fic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #riyahspeaks

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soul-controller · 3 months

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The Man of Steal II

When Clark Kent first left his farmhouse in Smallville to help assist a nearby town with a museum break-in, the man also known as Superman thought it would be a quick and simple encounter of disarming the criminal and handing them over to the police. Unfortunately for him though, this was proven to not be the case as Clark’s attempt to stop the criminal led to a huge fight that traversed through several areas of the museum. In fact, one of these areas included a special Krypton-themed exhibit, which proved to be quite detrimental to the superhero.

As the fight continued through this area, the criminal that broke into the museum (whose name was Darren) was desperately trying anything possible to stop Superman and allow himself to escape from him and the authorities. Searching through all of the rubble and toppled over display cases, Darren was able to stumble upon a rock that he thought could potentially give him an opportunity to flee. Upon slamming the rock against the hero’s impenetrable skull though, Darren found himself blessed with a perfect weapon in the form of a small piece of red Kryptonite.

Given the fact that Clark knew about the random effects that the crystal could have on him, the hero tried his best to deter the man from using the crystal for both of their sakes. The stubbornness of Darren was unwavering though and Clark was unable to stop the man in time before his broad chest was pierced by the crystal. Now after that impact, Clark immediately began to regret his constant desire for helping others as he found himself staring back at his own smiling body and realizing that he was now in the weak and unattractive form of Darren.

“Darren, did you hear me? It’s that kryptonite! That red one is super rare and has too many possible side effects for me to count. That must have caused us to swap bodies! Grab it and walk over here so we can swap back,” Clark desperately said, his voice shifting to a whimper as he struggled to sit up and deal with the intense pain of the impact with the wall. In fact, he was in such pain that the superhero didn’t even pick up on how he was now speaking with an awkward Midwestern accent that was a far cry from his formerly deep and booming voice.

Hearing the declaration of wanting to swap back though, the imposter Superman was adamant about not making that reality. As such, he slowly sauntered his way over to the now-frail superhero while puffing out his chest. “Like I’ve already told you Darren, by the looks of it, I’m Superman now,” he began, his lips pulling into a cocky smirk before letting out a chuckle seeing Clark’s terrified face. “I don’t really care about how this happened to us, all I know is that I’m not going to go back to that pitiful body just to go back to jail for whoever knows how many years!”

To punctuate the sentence then, Darren gripped onto the piece of kryptonite stuck in his chest and pulled it out. Grunting while this occurred, the man breathed heavily for a few seconds and stared intensely into his former eyes. Luckily for the terrified hero, this only lasted for a moment before Darren’s head soon began to turn and scan the expansive museum. Watching as the imposter Superman clenched his fist and pulled the arm holding the kryptonite back, Clark couldn’t even gasp in shock or scream for the man to stop before Darren’s new superhero strength sent the kryptonite flying through the air and shattering against the concrete wall from the velocity of the throw.

Feeling completely hopeless at what was going on, Clark found himself getting understandably quite emotional. It was absolutely infuriating to find himself graveling for the first time (and to his own body nonetheless), but it was something that he was more than willing to do in order to get his body and life back. He couldn’t allow some random criminal getting close to his wife and kids or taking over the role of Superman, Darren would surely destroy his family and his reputation as a good guy!

“Please Darren, don’t do this. We both know that these aren’t our real bodies, so let’s just be grown adults and I can find a shard or something so we can swap back,” he started. But as he finished his first sentence, his extreme sadness and fear finally caused the usually composed man to crack and begin crying. With those tears beginning to stream down his face, Clark tried his best to beg for his own body back. “Please, I’ll do anything you want to get my body back. I’m the real Superman, and I just want to get back to my family,” he continued, his sentence abruptly stopping as he began to full-on sob. Just the simple thought of having this stranger going to bed with his wife or going to his sons’ high school events was enough to break down the last remaining morsel of Clark’s pride. Despite his passionate plea though, Clark was absolutely appalled to find that his own hearty laugh was being used against him and filling the empty atrium of the museum.

“Wow, that was so pitiful and pathetic. With behavior like that, I don’t think we should swap back,” Darren began, his laughter continuing as he put his hands on his hips and looked down at the frail man who was sobbing and desperately wrapping an arm around his right leg. “Honestly, all of that emotion and desperate whining is perfectly fitting for such a weak body. In fact, I think I’m rather content with remaining as Superman,” he continued before suddenly stopping himself. “Or would you rather I refer to myself by my real name? Do you prefer I go with Clark Kent or Kal-El?” he said as he cockily placed his hands on his hips, finally causing Clark to look up in horror at the revelation that the criminal somehow knew everything about him.

“H-how did you know that,” Clark desperately inquired, struggling to comprehend what’s going on.

“What are you talking about Darren, I’m just thinking about my life and memories... especially my gorgeous wife and those two teenage boys that are eagerly waiting for their father to show up back in Smallville. You know what I really can't stop thinking about though? Getting Lois to moan my name as I fuck her mercilessly, a reward for continuing to make the world a better and safer place," he began, the smile turning quite devious as he easily recounted Clark’s last encounter with his family before heading to the museum. To make matters worse for the terrified superhero though, the man’s next statement proved to leave him weak in the knees. “I mean, I don’t think any of those memories feel fitting for a petty criminal and low-level gang member that would stage some break-in at a museum right? Go ahead and try and think about your life though Darren, I think you’ll find that those are more fitting for your life!”

Desperately, Clark tried to recount a recent and important moment in his life. The first thing that came to mind was the reason behind the family’s move to Smallville - the death of Clark’s mother. But to his horror, a brief glimpse through his mind was unable to pull up that memory. Instead, he found countless memories that informed him of a frail and sickly looking woman that was constantly in and out of the hospital. Even more bizarre, those memories also referred to Clark by the name belonging to the body he was now in: Darren.

Gasping in shock at what was going on, Clark tried his hardest to recall more important events and information about his life. But instead, all that happened was that a broader picture was painted about Darren’s life. By doing so, Clark was able to learn more about Darren such as his last name being Hyde and his history of going in and out of jail countless times in his youth. Continuing to pull on this string of Darren’s past allowed Clark to learn more about the man’s history with a local gang who first recruited him when he was 14 and got caught stealing some cigarettes for his mother.

Despite the gang’s best attempts at helping the man bulk up and gain more muscle to become some sort of brute to help them during any heists, Darren’s body was unwilling to grow beyond the pale and bony frame that he’d been stuck with since his childhood. With no real incentive for keeping the man around, the gang soon found a special job for Darren - by being their personal guinea pig and constant fall guy. Whenever he wasn’t in prison for one of the gang’s crimes, the man had no other options but to stick with the gang and endure their various tortures that came in the form of the knife scars that adorned Clark’s new pale skin. As he ran his fingers along the various cuts that crisscrossed on his skin, Clark found himself instantly cringing as he could somehow recall the pain Darren felt as he tried his best to flee and escape the rugged and bulkier men who tormented him.

“This isn’t right,” Clark cried out, the words coming out as a bizarre warble as he struggled to comprehend the extreme yet widely different expressions of his shame, fear, and pure rage. “You’re going to give me back my body one way or another,” he continued, his voice shifting into a surprisingly aggressive scream as he suddenly got up onto his feet and began to rush towards the shattered remnants of the red kryptonite. As he watched for a moment, Clark smirked seeing that the criminal was seemingly so caught off-guard that he hadn’t even attempted to chase after him yet. In a moment of athleticism that Darren’s body had never experienced before, Superman slid along the glass-shattered floor and allowed the pants he was wearing to be torn to shreds as he reached down to quickly pick up a small shard of red kryptonite that was the size of a paperclip. Given his multiple experiences with kryptonite in the past, Clark knew that the small piece was more than enough to hopefully restart the transformation and place him back in his original body.

Upon grabbing the piece, the man slid up from his knees and jumped back into a standing position to face the criminal who had stolen his body. But to his shock though, all he saw was a blur as Clark’s body flew directly at him before grabbing him and throwing him against the thick concrete wall. As Clark gasped and attempted to catch his breath from the impact, the imposter Superman was able to quickly grip onto the man’s kryptonite-wearing hand and slam it against the wall as well. But despite the struggle to regain his breathing, Clark kept a death grip around the shard in hopes of eventually stabbing the criminal with it. However, this quickly changed as Clark looked directly into the eyes of his former body and watched as they began to quickly redden.

“If you want to keep that hand of yours, you better drop the shard. Right now,” Darren warned, causing Clark’s friendly face to shift into a terrifyingly ill-fitting expression of pure rage.

Fearing the concept of losing a limb to his own laser vision, Clark let out a defeated whimper as he dropped the shard and watched as it slowly fell down and clattered against the tiled floor. Feeling as tears once again began to stream down his sunken-looking face, Clark lifted his head up to avoid making eye contact with the body thief who had easily outsmarted and outpowered him.

“Hey hey hey,” Darren lightly cooed, the friendly and calming tone he was speaking with being severely at odds with the reality of the situation. “Don’t worry Clark, I’ll be taking good care of those wife and kids of yours. Hell, based on how poorly your relationship with Jordan is right now, I think you could use all of the help you could get,” he continued with a chuckle, finding great amusement in being able to not only so easily defeat the indestructible Superman but also seamlessly take over his life as well.

“You motherfuck-,” Clark began, growing enraged as he heard the imposter bring up his strained relationship with his son.

But before the superhero could even finish his rare moment of profanity, Darren was quick to grab the man’s head and slam it back against the concrete wall. With his former body immediately slumping into a state of unconsciousness after the impact, Darren couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that he had overtaken the apparent Man of Steel. Although he had found such glee in tormenting the superhero and watching him plead for his body back though, the imposter Clark was growing increasingly antsy in terms of getting home and meeting his new family.

So as he dragged the still-unconscious “criminal” out through the front doors of the museum by the collar of his shirt, the brand new Superman flashed a wide smile as the various police officers were unaware of the fact that the criminal that they were searching for was who they were congratulating. Just as he prepared to fly off though to the house that his memories informed him was the Kent household, the former criminal tried his best to cover his tracks for once the real Clark woke up. This attempt came in the form of some dialogue with the paramedics who had quickly handcuffed Darren’s former body to a gurney and began to inspect his head for any potential damage.

“Hey, just so you guys now, that guy refused to go down without a fight,” Darren began, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest as he tried to appear overly heroic to the paramedics. “Obviously I didn’t want it to get that far, but he left me with no choice other than to rough him up a bit. Just in case he starts saying some crazy and unbelievable things, please check and make sure about whether he’s concussed or not. I know he hit his head pretty hard against one of the concrete walls while we were fighting,” he continued, giving a light grin and nodding his head towards the duo of workers before flying off to meet his new family.

* * * * *

Just a few minutes later, Darren had traversed the several miles of vast farmland before arriving on the Kent property. Opting to have a bit of time to mentally prepare before encountering his new family, the man made a landing near a large barn and slowly began to prepare to adopt the identity of a sweet father and husband rather than the gritty gang member he once was. After reaching the front door of the house, the brand new Clark Kent took a deep breath before turning the doorknob and walking in.

To his surprise though, the house was completely dead and silent beyond the TV in the living room that was still playing the local news station. “Uh hello,” he said aloud, continuing to walk around and looking for his new family. Instead though, the only thing he saw was a lone plate of food resting on the dinner table while all of the lights remained off. Thinking that his new family may have gone somewhere in town, Darren made his way through the hallways before entering the bedroom that his inherited memories told him was Clark and Lois’ bedroom.

After entering and finding that the room was just as empty as the rest of the house, the imposter took a moment to take in the sights of his new residence before noticing an ajar bathroom door connected to the main bedroom. Eager to get out of this suit and see what his new body looked like, the man eagerly made his way in there and began to undress.

As the suit finally slumped down to the floor and Darren stepped out of it, the man was in awe at just how godly his body looked now. Not only did the superhero opt to wear no underwear beneath the suit so the man was in immediate awe of Clark’s impressive 8.5” cock, but the sight of such a buff physique left Darren quite slack-jawed as well. It was incredible to feel such intense strength buried deep within the thick biceps and firm hairy pecs that he now possessed, so much so that the man’s brand new manhood was immediately hardening in response. Fuck yeah, I can definitely get used to this, the man thought to himself as he used one hand to graze his fingers along the well-defined ripples of his six-pack abs and the other to slowly squeeze the shaft of his new cock.

Before he could get too deep into the fondling though, a sudden flick of a lamp caused Darren’s eyes to widen and turn to face the source of the disturbance. Upon doing so, his eyes suddenly found himself staring at his new wife Lois sitting on her side of the bed and watching with a curious expression. As he observed the woman, Darren’s cock couldn’t help but firm up further due to just how gorgeous she was to him.

“Hmm,” she began, her lips curling into a light smirk as she looked her nude husband up and down. “I presume your trip to the museum went well?” Lois coyly asked, her eyes clearly narrowing in on the rock hard cock that was jutting out and pointing directly at her from across the room.

Attempting to come up with a response, Darren found his words beginning to jumble as he attempted to explain himself. “I- um, yeah the whole trip went great. It took a bit because the intruder was wearing this mechanical suit, but as soon as I got him out of it, it was a piece of cake getting him handed over to the authorities,” he said, his words coming across quite direct and intense due to his inner worry of somehow having Lois figure out that something had happened to her real husband.

Luckily though, Lois seemed to think that nothing was amiss, especially as Darren watched her stand up and slowly make her way over to him. As one hand ran her fingers along Clark’s pecs and twirled his chest hair, Darren found himself gasping as his new wife delicately wrapped her hand around the sizable manhood and began to slowly stroke it.

“Wha- what about the kids,” Darren asked, worried about any possible intruders before he truly gave into his newfound attraction towards the woman and fucked her senseless.

“Oh don’t worry, Jordan’s playing video games in his room while Jonathan is video-chatting with his girlfriend,” Lois purred into Clark’s ear. “There’s nothing to stop us from having a little fun tonight babe,” she continued, which immediately pushed Darren over the edge.

Feeling his attraction reaching its limit, the man put his superhero skills to use as he effortlessly pulled the woman into bed at impressive speeds and tore off the woman’s clothing. As they leaned in and passionately kissed each other, Darren’s bad boy tendencies began to quickly come out in full force.

It started out small, with Lois finding her lip bit by her hunky husband as he tightly gripped onto her breasts and sensually massaged the nipples. To her surprise though, she found the action oddly erotic, so she told Clark to keep going as he finally took a moment to slide his massive cock into her needy pussy. With the man sliding in and out with a surprising amount of force and conviction, the journalist couldn’t help but gasp and moan for Clark to “go harder”.

Luckily, Lois’ imposter husband was more than willing to comply with the request, using his wide hands to grip the back of her skull and pull her into a deep and passionate kiss as he ran his tongue down her throat. When pulling away from those kisses though, the brand new Clark was quick to dive into some dirty talk as he told his wife to beg for his cock and to call herself “daddy’s little cunt” if she wanted him to keep going. To Darren’s surprise though, the journalist was all too willing to allow “Clark” to assert dominance as she begged for more and referred to herself as that kinky nickname. As such, it didn’t take long before Darren reached climax and shot his superhero seed into his brand new wife’s eager pussy.

After finishing up and falling back into bed, Darren couldn’t help but smirk as Lois raved about how great that was and talked about how it felt like he was “a brand new man”. As he chuckled and retorted that the woman had no idea how true she was, the brand new Superman decided to flick off the light and head to bed. With Lois now fully believing that nothing was amiss, Darren was somewhat excited to meet his new children the next day and become a better father to them than the real Clark Kent could ever be!

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#male transformation #male body swap #stories involving superheroes #superhero tf #body swap

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daisysliv · 2 years

Text

won’t let go | eddie munson

word count: 853

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you stay by eddie's side in the hospital while he recovers from the events that happened in the upside down

warnings: fluff, light angst, mentions of death, light swearing, hurt/comfort, possible s4 spoilers, hurt eddie needs its own warning

notes: written based on this and this request that i combined cause they were a little similar in idea! it's short but sweet so i hope you like it. as always, not edited so all my mistakes are my own

library

stranger things bookshelf

Shifting in the uncomfortable hospital chair, you leaned forward, placing your elbows on your thighs as you covered your face with your hands. The handcuffs secured around his wrists, trapping him to the bed making you sick.

The second you brought him to the hospital, after pulling him out of the Upside Down, they stuck cuffs on him. They stuck cuffs on him like he was gonna magically escape despite being clearly severely wounded. You argued that with the police but they didn't care, Eddie was branded as a murderer in their minds.

They believed he was some satanic cult leader that went around breaking kids’ bones and taking out their eyes when all he did was play Dungeon and Dragons; and occasionally sell drugs but that isn't the point. This town hated him for playing a game and looking different than they did. They called him a freak for how he expressed himself and the things he did, it wasn't fair. Not after he almost died for this stupid town that hated him and thought of him as nothing but a freak and a murder.

The cops outside his door almost didn't let you or anyone else in the room but you fought like hell on that. You weren't going to be banned from the room while the love of your life laid in pain with no one to comfort him. You weren't going to leave him all alone in that cold, dark room they kept him in.

You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly to pull him out of his slumber. He had been sleeping most days to avoid the pain he felt where he had been fed on by the demobats.

Eddie groaned, his eyes fluttering open and he slowly turned his head to look at you, a smile painting his lips. “Hey,” He croaked, his voice still raspy from where the demobat had been choking him. “You're still here.”

“Of course I am. I won't leave you here alone and Wayne is gonna stop by later.” You stand from the chair and climb into the bed, careful to avoid his injuries. Laying your head on his chest, you put your ear right above his heart so you could listen to it beat.

Feeling Eddie press his lips to your head, you snuggled closer into him, wishing he could wrap his arms around you. You wished none of this happened. It wasn't right. “You have no idea how much I wanna hold you right now.” He whispers and you could hear the desperation in his voice.

You wanted his arms around you just as bad as he did. You wanted him to hold you close and feel his grip tighten like he was scared to let go. “I want that too.” You manage to say while hiding the way your voice cracked. Gripping at the hospital gown he wore, you bunched it up in your fist trying to get closer to him.

Silence engulfs the two of you, neither of you wanting the moment to end anytime soon.

The sound of his heart beating in sync with yours echoed in your head and you felt comforted. You felt safer than you have in years. “I love you.” You whisper into the silence, the hum of the air conditioner muffling your words.

Eddie nuzzled his face into your hair and you heard him take a deep breath. “I’m scared to end up like my dad.” He admitted and your heart sank. All his life, he's been scared of one thing and that was ending up like his dad who was rotting in a jail cell. “I don't want to be like him.”

“You won't, Eddie, okay? You're nothing like him.” You prop yourself up on your elbow so you can look at him. “You could never be like him, tell me you understand that.”

His big doe eyes never stray away from your face, and you hope he can see the sincerity written all over it. You would find a way to prove that he didn't kill Chrissy or the other teens because you weren't gonna let him be thrown in jail for something he would never even dream of doing. He couldn't kill a fucking fly.

Eddie slowly nods, his eyes softening. “I understand that and besides, if I was like him, I wouldn't have you.” He started to lift a hand, forgetting about the cuffs until they scratch at his sore wrist and he hisses. His hand falls back on the flimsy hospital mattress and you smile sadly.

Lying back down on his chest, you matched your breathing with his and closed your eyes, wishing that those stupid cops perched outside his room all day and every day would remove the damn cuffs. You wanted to feel his arms around you but they made it physically impossible and you hated it.

“If these things are ever removed, I’m never lettin’ you go.”

“Good because I won't let you.” You nuzzled into his side more, keeping your eyes closed and let the air conditioner lull you both to sleep.

notes: if you would like to request something from the prompt list, you can find it here, just be sure to add the numbers, and if it’s angst or fluff! if you want to request something that is not on the list, go right ahead and send in the ask!

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PERMANENT TAGLIST ( if it's crossed out that means i couldn't tag you )

@prettylittlemoonlight @drayshadow @evanbuckbuckleyhowlett @wildestdreamcatcher @mushroomdemon9 @levylovegood @1-800-prostitutes @AllieAprilKnox @alexxavicry @hallecarey1

STRANGER THINGS TAGLIST

@hehehehannahthings @polarisfae @pinksloosh @mushroomdemon9 @bvmbshell @lilahloopsy @1-800-prostitutes @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek @AllieAprilKnox @angelbbygrl @wandamaximoffs-deadchild @marauderssworld

EDDIE MUNSON TAGLIST

@polarisfae @wildestdreamcatcher @pinksloosh @spookyconsultingcriminal @mushroomdemon9 @bvmbshell @lilahloopsy @findleynovadachs111 @1-800-prostitutes @wandamaximoffs-deadchild @marvel-starwars-nerd @marauderssworld @lovelyladymayyy @mcueveryday

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things imagine #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #stranger things one shot #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic

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velvetcloxds · 11 months

Note

for a dialogue I don't know if you're still writing for twd but I just read love made me crazy and what about something after that where negan is out of jail and end up saving you when you're in danger or being the only one you ask for when getting hurt?

I WOULD CROSS THE LINE | N.S.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: villian becoming the hero for the person he loves- I couldn't control myself and turned it into a blurb and yes I'm always ready to write for twd- a brief moment where zombies try to eat you but it’s very quick and totally undetailed- ohh also age gap

part one: love made me crazy

It happened too fast, you were always aware when outside the gate, more so after convincing everyone to let Negan come out searching for resources with you, just four of you scurrying about the woods for cans of food you'd never find. You'd never been one to volunteer, much more comfortable organizing things at home but you were losing your mind wondering about Negan in that little cell while were you on the other side with not even a second with him. These little trips were routine, always the same, a few stray walkers that were easy to take down, always finding nothing in the process but things got out of hand too quickly.

Stuck in a room with three walkers, no weapon, nothing but an overthrown cupboard separating you, and without even a second of consideration you called for Negan, pleaded for him and it was like a bolt of lightning struck right through his spine at the shrill sound. He'd never cleared a house so fast, not a care in the world for who was behind him, yelling at him for not staying close, he'd found a knife along the way and the zombies grabbing at you were gone within seconds.

"Y/n," you didn't register the sound, kneeled against the wall, shaking despite your best attempt at staying calm, blood on your clothes and you weren't sure it was truly over. Negan was slow when he moved the wooden frame away, it wasn't an easy task with the dead weight slumped against it, but he wasn't thinking, not a thought going through his mind other than getting you into his arms. "Baby," the gentle tone made you snap back to reality, tremored hands reaching for him before you could register the gesture. "I've got you," he promised and he bit back a surprised puff of air when you launched at him, taking him with you to the ground in the process, holding him impossibly tight as you lingered in his lap.

"You came," you mumbled into his neck, he was cooing softly, hand bushing up and down your back, your arms circling around his neck as you fought against any possibility that he'd let go.- he kissed the side of your head as a promise that he wouldn’t. "You saved me."

"Course I did,” he couldn’t believe your surprise, not that he came, it was more than that, it was revealing a weakness which was something he’d never dreamed of doing, letting people know there was something to hold over him and he couldn’t care less. “Baby,” the word felt foreign a second time, it was deliberate, laced with so many consequences and hidden meanings but he wanted to say it again, a thousand times just to taste it on his tongue. “You okay?” you were, he’d checked before you were in his arms, he had a fleeting moment to do so but the blood wasn’t yours and the scratches weren’t made by the dead, just from the struggle of trying to get safe.

“You saved me,” you pulled away, looking him over, you’d never seen that look before, the concern, the relief at looking at you, you’d always been the one to fuss over getting him an extra blanket or saving him some of your food so he stayed healthy, made sure no one too bad gets put on guard at his cell. He had his moments too though, and would worry about you being on the night shift, or dealing with some idiots letting their egos get in the way but at least you weren’t alone, there was someone to step in if you needed it, someone to keep you safe since he couldn’t. So seeing you like this, scared and seconds away from disaster, made something in him shift. A realization maybe, he was being reckless with you, putting your safety in someone else’s hands when they were more bothered keeping a gun on him than saving you from danger.

“You scared me,” his tone was soft, dipped brows over darkened eyes, the weight of the world drawn black in his irises and you hated being responsible for that. He’d grown hard before you, numb to such senseless emotions like fear and you didn’t want to be the reason he felt it again. You’d wondered if he’d be able to feel, truly feel, what you felt for him yet somehow knowing he could felt worse than thinking he couldn’t. “When I heard you screaming...” he shook his head, cupped your cheeks in his own shaking hands and your fingers were desperate when surrounding his wrists. “Haven’t felt that terrified in so damn long,” his hands fell to your neck, thumbs brushing hair away from the back of your ear.

“I’m sorry,” you didn’t have to apologise, he’d tell you as much soon so you interrupted his thoughts, nodding, pleading for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to do that, I didn’t mean for any of this,” you didn’t mean to fall for him is what you didn’t say, he heard it even though you didn’t. “Of all the people, it had to be you,” you rested your forehead against his, he sighed, you bit your lip, if only words could describe it, if only the moment could last forever.

“Negan! Y/n!”, Carol’s voice was like a shock to the system, robbing you of your peace, forcing you right back into reality and after the gentlest, purest little kiss placed to you cheek, Negan jumped back, hands in the air in surrender as he stood up.

“In here!” he didn’t look away, gaze stuck on you, taking you in just one more time, making sure, slightly pleased with himself to see your breathing has evened out. “I’m going to change for you,” he promised and you swore your heart stopped, his hands now at the back of his head as if he was preparing to be cuffed. “I’m going to be better, baby, you deserve better,” he shook his head, agreeing with his words, his heart. “Please give me a chance to earn your heart?” you never thought you’d hear him beg, plead for you, your heart something he’s had for longer than you’d ever admit.

“You already have it,” you nearly whispered, footsteps coming closer. “You don’t have to earn it, .”

“Then give me a chance to deserve it, let me be good for you.”

Carol had her gun pointed at him as soon as she came into the room, too busy with him to even take in the dead zombies at your feet or the blood on your clothes, biased, priorities in place. Your priorities were far too different, flinching as she pointed the gun at his head while forcing his hands behind his back.

“He saved my life,” you blurted and the softness in his face was enough to give you whiplash, so different from how he’d looked at her, you were trying to make him human again, to them at least and it was almost as if he was pitying you for having to try so hard. “Carol, he saved my life.”

“I don’t care,” she bit back and your soul ached. “He’s still a monster.”

He’s not, not to you, a monster wouldn’t be kind to you, save you, a monster couldn’t make you fall in love with him. Maybe he was a monster once, maybe he’d changed, maybe he just allowed himself a little too much humanity with you and it ruined everything. You did love him despite all logical reasons, but you did also wish he’d change, not just for you, but for him too, for everyone.

There wasn’t a line he wouldn’t cross for power, maybe this line he’d cross for you, for weakness.

#negan smith #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x yn #negan fluff #negan blurb #negan drabble #negan fanfiction #negan smith x reader #negan smith x you #negan smith x yn #negan smith fluff #negan smith drabble #negan smith blurb #negan smith fanfiction #monique's writing events #monique's event days #right where queue left me

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chimielie · 27 days

Text

i swear that i will hate you 'till forever

summary: Yaku x F!Reader. sometimes divorce is what you really need to strengthen a marriage

word count: 1.2k

cw: angst, alcohol, pr marriage gone extremely wrong, yaku is older by six years, reader is a socialite with no life skills or healthy coping mechanisms, yaku also has no healthy coping mechanisms, no one in this story is doing well, The Judgment of God Himself, also blasphemy

a/n: heeey long time no see. i actually genuinely don't know when i wrote this, i'm just emptying my drafts of all the half-written fics i have locked in jail. i do still like this concept a lot so shoot me an ask if you want to know more about what i had planned for the full thing :)

Morisuke hates weddings.

He stares up at God, who is trapped in a little circle in a bigger circle, surrounded by gorgeous, centuries-old paintings of angels and saints and little red devils. Everything is gold, the flickering light of hanging chandeliers shining down to gild a rapt audience, even as the real people seem to pale in comparison to their artistically rendered counterparts. Standing here, surrounded by ornate displays of divinity, Morisuke has never felt so wealthy in spirit and physicality. He wasn’t raised in this religion, nor was he ever baptized into it as an adult, but he doesn’t find a seed of objection in himself he’d though he would. The icon he thinks is God looks both mournful and benevolent. All the shining things make Morisuke feel as though he’s looking into a mirror.

The people rustle, whispering among themselves. A stray string instrument sounds, alone and twanging into a silence far greater than itself, and Morisuke almost misses it when the orchestra starts up moments later. He has a headache, the kind that gets worse because he’s so irritated that he has one at all.

He looks down and away from God, straight into the blinding flash of a camera. His only reaction is a slight narrowing of the eyes, the closest he’s come to flinching in years. When the spots clear from his vision, you’re there, an angel from the fresco come to life, a goddess in the church.

Morisuke folds his hands. It feels only right to pray, the way he’s seen it on television, the way some of his teammates do before matches. You stare at him as you walk down the aisle, light playing over your dress in shining bursts that make his head throb harder. He can’t find any bridal tears in your eyes.

He shifts in his dress shoes, fights not to run his hands through his carefully-styled hair. The air-conditioning is too strong, meant to keep a thousand pressed-together people from overheating, or perhaps it’s the winter air leaking in through the great doors. You reach the stairs to the altar, wobbling a little on your first step up, though the movement is so minuscule anyone but him wouldn’t have noticed. Without thinking, Morisuke reaches a hand out to steady you. Your fingers press hard into the flesh of his palm, gripping him bruisingly tight. He can barely pull his hand away fast enough. The music stops, and Morisuke takes in a deep breath, while your chest doesn’t move to inhale or exhale. This is the last moment before you are knotted together irrevocably for life. A groom who hates weddings for a bride who doesn’t cry.

one year, eight months later

If you tilt your head up and almost close your eyes so that you’re looking through your lashes, you can pretend that you’re floating among the stars. You do so, walking backwards, tipping champagne down your throat as you go, trying to envision yourself as a constellation. You’re pretty sure you are one—Morisuke’s gift to you on your birthday, the first one after you’d married. The tabloids had eaten it up. You, watching him board a plane through the social media stories of your so-called friends, hadn’t felt quite as romanced as your picture in the news claimed.

You had forgotten about the constellation. Perhaps it had stuck in your subconscious, though; it was awfully romantic. Perhaps that’s why you had chosen the planetarium as a venue for tonight, though in the light of day it had been the midnight blue velvet and shadowy, domed ceilings that had cinched it for you. But you throw a lot of parties, and you don’t need any more sentiment in your life than what you’re currently suffocating under. You’ll come back on your own, you decide, finishing off your glass and plucking another from the nearest hand to you. You like being lost amongst your guests, freewheeling in space even without oxygen to breathe.

You stumble as you continue your backwards, meandering path through the party. You kick off your shoes, lab-grown crystals chipping off as they bounce. You don’t notice. You’ll buy more. You could buy the whole stupid world, with your husband’s money that he throws at you so he doesn’t have to come home and face you. Your husband who leaves you alone to do whatever you please. Alone, dancing among the stars.

Morisuke was twenty-eight when he proposed to you; you had just turned twenty-two when you said yes. You had been officially seeing each other for three months and acquaintances for nearly a year prior.

The story of your first meeting the interviewers knew was one you and your husband had told many times. A mutual friend had introduced you at a high-profile event and said, blatantly, that the two of you should “make babies.” Morisuke was smooth; you were flirtatious. The story played out like a romantic comedy, ending in a fairytale wedding.

You and he had kept the real story for yourselves, to take out and admire in times of trouble, to tuck away in your pocket like a note between secret lovers.

You were running through a rose-garden maze, eyes over your shoulder, hands fisted in your skirts. He had been walking a perpendicular path to yours (looking for someone else, another lover, you’d later learn) when you had tripped right over him, tumbling head over heels through the flora and into a new sector. Your breath knocked out of you, it was all you could do to stare up at the sky and try to laugh.

“Miss?” He’d called, ducking through the opening, pushing stray rose canes away. “Miss! Are you alright?”

He sounded so formal. You accepted his hand up, but only pulled yourself into a sitting position, trying desperately to catch your breath. He was so handsome, it was making things much harder. Inconsiderate of him, you thought

“I’m fine,” you managed, eventually. “Are you?”

“No more bruised than usual,” he’d returned, teasing. You cocked a brow. “I’m an athlete. I dive face-first onto hardwood floors all day."

For reasons you couldn’t recognize, you’d taken his hand, pushing up the sleeve of his shirt. His forearm toward the elbow had a nasty bruise, as he had said. You ran a careful finger over the discoloration, and he hissed.

“How was my form?”

“Awful,” he said frankly. “But—“ He’d seemed to get lost there, watching the way the sunlight filtered through the clouds and played across your features. With all the raw honesty of someone saying something they hadn’t even known they were thinking, he opened his mouth and said: “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

On a slight breeze, the petals you’d knocked off drifted around the two of you, catching on his shirt, in your hair. They pooled between you, and when you ducked your head down they were all you could see.

You fell in love during that first meeting.

He never fell in love with you at all.

#yaku x reader #yaku morisuke x reader #yaku angst #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu!! x reader angst

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jelicoxoxo · 7 months

Text

TWST CHARACTERS AS CATS

Summary: Your favorite had embarrassingly made a mistake in potionology class, which ultimately resulted in them turning into a cat! They hunt you down to care for them, escaping their usual routine for the day.

Warnings: N/A. Can be seen platonic or romantic, OC friendly. No proofread cause i’ll wanna delete it. Floyd’s might be rushed

A/N: i’m EXHAUSTED oh my god.

————

(Heartslabyul) (Savanaclaw) (Octavinelle) (Scarabia) (Pomefiore) (Ignihyde) (Diasomnia)

————

Azul Ashengrotto

- The first and last(not) time he’ll ever be your study partner.

- You had accidentally put in cats fur instead of moose fur, how you mistaken the two? we’ll never know.

-He turned into a persian cat by the way, long fluffy fur.

- But he definitely made it YOUR problem. Following you around with a loud meow whenever he didn’t get the attention he wanted, sneaking INTO your bag and leaving cat fur on literally everything, and went out of his way to flick his tail under your nose while you ate your lunch.

-You practically breathed Azul that day, and there was no escape, not since now he could track you down himself with that new nose of his.

-The only time he ever left was to go check on Mostro Lounge, he is a busy man after all! But the twins brought him right back to you, claiming they couldn’t understand his chattering and meowing (they didn’t care*)

- So you where stuck with cat Azul. Stuck with this literal menace that goes out of his way to irritate you for his amusement.

-HAATTEESSS air jail and getting sprayed with water(ironically). It’s pretty much the only things that’ll get him to stop, but he’ll fuss and fuss about it.

-don’t give him catnip he’ll probably lose his shit.

-He turned back right beside you, then got up and left without a single word, to embarrassed to even say anything to you.

-will ignore you if you try to bring it up

Jade Leech

- Mischievous but less destructive.

- Literally nobody knows how it happened, nobody. But what you do know is that he showed up at your door and KICKED the bottom of the door till you answered

-you know those videos of the cats kicking with their hind legs as a way to knock? yeah thats him

- it was so loud too, like it genuinely scared you so bad you didn’t even wanna open the door.

-just for this long, tall, and lanky siamese cat to walk right in like he paid bills, looking back at you and meowing as if to ask “are you coming?” before he continued further into your space.

-He enjoys sitting on your desk, watching you continue your routine and occasionally including him in it.

-If you wear makeup, he’ll maybe let you pretend to put it on him using an old makeup brush. Will paw at your hand to get you to do it again, purring and closing his eyes for the “eyeshadow”

-such a sweetheart (when he isn’t scratching the hell outta your furniture and hiding your shoes/socks)

-Suddenly your new cat friend left, and the knock at your door was Jade as his normal self pretending that nothing had happened.

-Still pretends to have no idea what you’re talking about when you speak of the cat that never returned.

Floyd Leech

- By far the hardest to care for and watch, dare I say worse than ace.

- Floyd wasn’t really at fault for the incident, but i wont say he was completely a victim either. He was so irritated until he saw you, suddenly not so hissy anymore.

-This boy immediate went with you wherever you went, and did not care about whatever Azul had planned that day. I mean, he needs time with his favorite shrimpy doesn’t he?

- He likes to slap you if he sees you asleep or focused on anything but him.

- Also likes to sit on your laptop while you’re using it, as well as anything you’re writing on.

- Sometimes he’ll knock a glass or two off the shelves, tables, and counters. Or maybe even scratch up your sofa in a spot you’ll only ever notice weeks later.

- don’t try bathing him, he’ll despise you the rest of the day. To him, having heavy wet fur is just not enjoyable, actually he hates it(ironically x2).

-and oh you thought his mood swings would stop as a cat??? Oh no baby it gets worse

-one minute he’s rubbing his face against your arm, the next he’s turning around and biting it.

- Him turning back wasn’t really anything special, but he wasn’t to fond of his little “day off” being taken out of his paycheck

———

It is 4am I’m going back to sleep

#black writers #jelicoxoxo #blackcontentcreators #twsited wonderland #twst headcanons #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twst azul #twst jade #twst floyd #floyd x reader #jade x reader #azul x reader #im so tired of writing #MAKE IT STOP

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ro-is-struggling · 3 months

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Hello Hello & Congratulations

Recently gotten back into some Bucky feels & wanted to ask for him with lyric prompt 2 please! Made myself laugh with a friends to lovers idea where you're cooking for Sam & Buck & Sam slides a magnet into your back pocket cause obviously he's the best wingman (& tired of the pinning). Then I found comic panels with Buck & a little white cat & if that's Alpine!! & that first show prompt is open... Don't want to over ask but just know if it's down to the wire & no one asks for it...someone asked for it >.> Thanks for reading and stay hydrated!

Hi beautiful! Thank you so much for participating in the celebration and I’m so sorry it took me so long to post this! I LOVED this prompt and the little twist you gave it so much I wrote this in like a few hours. It’s short and sweet, I hope you like it💜💜💜

More Than Friends || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sam is tired of always getting caught in the middle of the flirting and nervous glances you and Bucky subject him to every time you're in the same room, so he comes up with a plan to give you two the little push you so desperately need to confess your feelings —and laugh at you along the way.

Warnings: set somewhere after civil war where team cap is on the run together, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, humor, Sam being tired of your shit

English is not my first language

Word count: 2000

Notes: I'm pretty sure this one is gender neutral? but I wrote it with a fem reader in mind so I'll tag it like that just in case some description slipped my tired brain while editing

This fic is part of my 600 followers celeration

Sam was tired of watching you and Bucky dance around the feelings you two clearly had for each other. Sometimes he thought you were doing it on purpose, like some kind of elaborate prank to torture him as revenge for the times he made fun of you. It was the only logical explanation he could find for your attitude. Otherwise he didn't understand why you would continually refuse to face the obvious. You were in love and everyone seemed to see it but you.

Life on the run was torture when he was stuck with the two of you. Watching you two get flustered from being crammed in the back seat of the car, Sam really thought that maybe he should have taken the Clint and Scott route and made a deal with the authorities. Home detention sounded so much better compared to the heavy tension in the air that seemed to follow you everywhere. On particularly bad days - like that time a man flirted with you in a bar and Bucky was in a bad mood all day - even traditional jail seemed like paradise in comparison.

Sam had tried everything to help you. He used to leave you alone on missions, put you in the same hotel room under the pretense that they had no more rooms, even made you sit together in the back of the car when you traveled. But despite all his efforts, you were no closer to facing your feelings than when he started. Even his subtle comments and pep talks didn't help. Every time he even dared to bring up your feelings, you acted confused and dismissed his words. He had tried it with Bucky and with you separately and you both had had almost the same response, which only proved Sam's point.

The rest of the team was tired of you too, but since they didn't have to spend half as much time as he usually did stuck with you, they didn't care. Wanda would disappear from time to time to see Vision, and Steve and Natasha were usually together in their own little world, figuring out what the next step would be. Which left him stuck with Bucky, you and the unbearable tension in the air. That's why no one understood his suffering and therefore no one was willing to help him.

Steve and Nat had told him that he should give you time, that eventually you would figure out your feelings and everything would get better. But Sam was beginning to think that would never happen. You had been dancing around each other since the day you met and showed no signs of changing. He had done everything he could to help you in subtle ways —talking to you privately or creating certain situations without your knowledge— all so as not to expose you and embarrass you, but apparently that was exactly what you needed, for something to expose your feelings and force you to confront them. And he had the perfect idea.

It came to him suddenly as he watched the two of you struggling to get comfortable in the back seat of the car. It was way too small a model, clearly not meant to comfortably transport a super soldier, so Bucky ended up taking up more than half the seat. Sam watched as he fiddled nervously with his hands, adjusting his position every five minutes to make sure his legs didn't accidentally brush yours. And as the sunlight beamed on his metal arm, Sam chuckled to himself at the thought that maybe next time he should give you pants made of magnets just to annoy Bucky.

It was like a light switched on in his head. It was the perfect way to get back at you while helping you deal with your feelings. A hilarious idea all around that made Sam proud of his creativity. It wasn't hard to execute either, he just bought some magnets and waited for you to leave the bag with your belongings unattended to slip them into the back pocket of one of your pants.

Not knowing when you would end up wearing said article of clothing added a layer of spontaneity to the situation. Even Sam had forgotten which pants he had chosen and when he saw you emerge from your room in the morning he didn't even realize his plan had been set in motion.

It was the first time in a long time that you hadn't slept in a crappy motel. Thanks to an old contact of Natasha's, you were able to stay in a safe house that had several rooms, good water pressure and a large kitchen. It wasn't the Avengers compound, but it was much better than the places you'd become accustomed to living. So, to celebrate you decided to prepare breakfast for the whole team.

You didn't let anyone help you, the very idea of someone else hanging around the kitchen while you worked on the pancakes made you anxious. You weren't a great cook by any means, but you found it easier and more relaxing to work when you had total control of the kitchen. So you sent everyone to wait elsewhere while you finished cooking. Steve opted to go out for his morning run and Natasha went back to bed, mumbling something about being woken up when there was food on the table. That left you with Sam, who settled down at the kitchen island with a glass of water to chat and keep you company. And not long after, Bucky popped his head through the door frame.

"Bucky! Just the guy I needed right now!" you said with a smile as you saw him enter the kitchen, dragging his feet as he rubbed his eyes to shake off the sleep. "Breakfast is almost ready, could you get the plates from the cabinet, please?"

Sam didn't think much of it, only that he would have to prepare himself for a morning of uncomfortable looks and flushed cheeks since you were in Bucky's way and to help you he would undoubtedly have to get closer to you than he seemed to be able to handle normally. Sam didn't remember his little joke until he felt the unexpected gasp you let out when Bucky's metal hand made contact with your backside as he reached behind you for the cabinet. He nearly choked on his water, laughter getting stuck in his throat as he watched Bucky panic, not understanding what had happened.

"I-I didn't... I mean, I'm sorry, I..." The super soldier tried hard to form a coherent sentence, but his mind was short-circuiting and his cheeks were turning a vivid shade of pink as he pulled his hand away from your body with difficulty. There was an inexplicable pull that drew him to you, making his metal arm move of its own accord, seeking to cling to you again. Bucky had to take a few steps back from you to make sure that didn't happen again.

"Well, the cat is out of the bag. Finally!" Sam exclaimed with a mischievous grin that told Bucky everything he needed to know. "Although to be honest, I was hoping you'd find a more subtle way to confess your feelings, Buck. Or at least do it in private."

"You did this?" Bucky asked, though he already knew the answer. Sam simply let out a long laugh as he rose from his seat and disappeared out the kitchen door. "You're dead, Wilson!"

“What is he talking about?”

The sound of your voice snapped Bucky out of his angry state, his gaze softening as it settled on your confused expression. The urge to murder Sam faded as he panicked, searching for an answer to give you. This wasn't the way he would have liked to confess his feelings for you, but he couldn't lie to you either-Sam had made sure of that.

"I..." Bucky hesitated, having trouble finding the courage to tell you the truth. He could hardly remember when he had last been in that position of vulnerability, having to search for the right words to express feelings he didn't know how to describe. He was rusty, the skills and confidence that characterized his younger self had been buried in the past and now he had no idea what to say to you.

"Yes?" You spoke as he fell silent, looking up at him with glittering eyes waiting to hear that thing you'd been dreaming of since the moment you two met.

Bucky sighed, defeated. "I like you, doll, like more than just a friend." He said finally, cringing at his poor choice of words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to find out this way. It's just that Sam figured it out and has been pressuring me to talk to you about it and I guess he got tired of waiting and did all this to fuck with me."

Bucky was rambling, talking at a speed that was not normal for him. He was also having trouble making eye contact with you, his eyes looking at everything but you. You'd never seen him this... nervous. He was nervous. His cheeks turned a darker shade of pink with each passing second and he spoke so fast that his tongue threatened to get stuck halfway through each word. He was so adorable that you couldn't help but let out a giggle.

"I'm glad that he did." It took Bucky a few seconds to process your words, his flustered expression slowly morphing into a frown of confusion.

"What?" he muttered and you smiled.

Reaching into your back pocket, you pulled the magnet out. It rested flat in the palm of your hand as you got closer to Bucky. In an instant, his metal hand was on top of yours, cold against the soft, warm skin. You intertwined your fingers with his, your smile widening as he copied your movements.

"I might have to thank him later because, you see, I kinda like you too. And I've been trying to do something about it for so long but I just couldn't, so Sam kinda saved me there cause I was starting to lose it." You let out a chuckle and Bucky joined you, completely understanding the sentiment.

The room fell silent, but it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable like other times. Although you could still feel the tension in the air as Brucky's gaze traveled from your eyes to your joined hands, lingering on your lips for longer than necessary. He took a step toward you and your breath caught in your throat, your insides vibrating with anticipation.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice was a soft whisper. His warm breath collided against the sensitive skin of your face as he rested his forehead on yours, looking up at you through his eyelashes with a hint of desperation. He was waiting for your consent, needing to hear it from your voice before proceeding.

"Please." It was all you could say before Bucky's lips crashed against yours.

It was a soft, slow kiss. Bucky's lips moved with torturous sensuality over yours, a gentle brush that barely satiated your need for him. But despite that, you let him guide the kiss to ensure his comfort. Bucky wasn't usually comfortable with physical contact —not after all he'd been through— and you knew this was a big step for him. So you embraced the softness of his kisses, quieting that voice in your mind that was screaming for you to grab his face and intensify it. It was tempting, yes, but you would have time for that.

Bucky didn't pull away from you immediately when you broke the kiss. He kept his forehead pressed against yours as his flesh hand traveled upward to caress your cheek. He looked at you with complete adoration, his fingers gently stroking your skin, as if he couldn't believe what was happening, as if he was afraid of being too rough and breaking the fantasy into a thousand pieces. Then he let out a chuckle and a smile broke out on your face as you heard such a sweet melody.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, is just that... Sam is never gonna let this go."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #ro's 600 followers celebration

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matan4il · 2 months

Text

Daily update post:

I wrote about a recent terrorist attack in which one Israeli young man was murdered and 13 people were injured. The most seriously injured casualty was Adi Zohar, a young pregnant woman (five months along, and with another little baby at home). She and the foetus are doing good, and she's been giving interviews from her hospital bed. In one, she mentioned that the traffic jam they were stuck in, was actually caused by a staged car accident.

I wrote about Yonatan Samerano's murdered body having been kidnapped to Gaza by two Hamas terrorists on Oct 7, one of which was also a UN worker, while they used a UN vehicle for this crime. There's nothing new on that front, but this quote from his mom Ayelet is one I think everyone should hear...

I wish I could record, translate and upload this. I got to hear an interview with an IDF officer who came out of Gaza after fighting there for a while, and he talked about having seen with his own eyes how Hamas terrorists were using Gazan civilians as human shields. He mentioned that there was an area, where they had a curfew during the night, so that if they come across anyone after dark, it would be clear that it's a terrorist. But one soldier came across a 4 years old kid walking there alone at nighttime. Even though it was dark, the soldier was thankfully able to recognize in time that it's a kid. She wouldn't speak, but the soldiers were able to locate a terror tunnel shaft not too far from where they were, and from which the terrorists sent her into this area, to test how vigil about the curfew the IDF is. While I couldn't record this specific interview, reports about Hamas' use of kids, both as human shields and as active members of the terrorist organization, are not new.

In order to improve the supply of humanitarian aid to Gaza, Israel will start allowing aid trucks directly into the northern side, rather than just allowing them into the southern part, and then having it driven from the south to the north by Gaza-based organizations, such as UNRWA. These have been allowing hundreds of trucks' worth of aid to remain lying around idle, leading to this new measure by Israel. So far, over 14,000 aid trucks were allowed in since the start of the war.

A Palestinian terrorist, who was arrested and convicted in 2004 for planning and participating in the Carmel Market terrorist attack, in which 3 people were murdered and over 50 were wounded, wrote a book while in prison, and it's now nominated for the most prestigious literature award in the Arab world, which comes with a prize of 50,000 dollars. The event's site mentions that the author is in jail, but not what he's imprisoned for.

This is 19 years old Oz Daniel.

Based on evidence collected in the past few days, he's now been confirmed as having been murdered on Oct 7, and his body was kidnapped to Gaza. There will be a funeral, which suggests that parts of him can be buried. Let it sink in that it's been 4.5 months since the Hamas massacre, and we're still identifying people who had been murdered on that day.

The news about this was aired along with a confirmation that out of 134 hostages in Gaza, 33 are kidnapped bodies. That means there are 101 living hostages there at most (with possibly at least 20 more also murdered, info awaiting debunking or confirmation). In the image below are the pics of the hostages, alive and confirmed killed, the ones with a light blue frame around their pic, have been in Hamas captivity for years.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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yanderepuck · 4 months

Text

PEEKABOO GUESS WHOS HERE. Not sure why I can only ever find a blurry version of this cg BUT ITS FIIIINE. Also why am I always writing these at midnight WHY CANT I DO IT DURING THE DAY SO I CAN JUST SLEEP

WHY AM I PLAUGED WITH VISIONS NOW. Anyway enjoy the somno you sluts. I have no clue how I'm not out of ideas at this point. Eventually it's going to sound repetitive. Good luck in horny jail

Theo didn't get back to the mansion until late. Arthur dragged him out to get drinks and they both may have had a few too many and stayed until the bar closed.

He stumbled into his room, not even wearing his coat since he felt too warm. He tossed the coat and his shirt onto the chair by his desk and went to fall onto his bed until he saw you laying there.

The light coming in from the moon showed a perfect outline of your body. Theo groaned slightly, now needing to walk to the other side of his bed. He lays down. Still feeling warm he kicks off his pants and rolls over to lay next to you.

You were laying on your back, slightly turned to the side. Theo went to put a hand on your stomach, and ended up going under your shirt. His fingers grazed across your skin as his hand went further up to grope your boob. He squeezed it a few times, cupping it in his hand.

He stayed still for a few moments before sitting up and removing his hand. He tried to unbutton your shirt, but he couldn't see straight and so he just lifted it up over your chest.

The moonlight glistened on your bare body. He smirked looking down at you. Grabbing one breast, then leaning down to start sucking the other. He used his hand to squeeze the one while his teeth teased your nipple.

You started to moan and squirm a little, but Theo didn't stop. He just moved his body between your legs. He started to suck around your nipple, planning on coving you in hickies. After being sure of leaving a few marks his mouth and hand switch places and he did the same on the other.

Still asleep, but you push your chest outward. This just tells him that you want more. With his free hand he reaches between you two and moves your panties to the side, giving him access to your hole.

Already leaking with precum, he presses his tip against you. He groans, starting to get frustrated, but is a little too drunk to be able to just slide into you.

He sits up and pushes your legs further apart. He slides himself into you and moans loudly.

"Fuuuck~"

Have you ever been this tight? He immediately starts thrusting into you, holding onto your hips and making sure your legs stay wide.

The moon shines in just enough for him to be able to watch your tits bounce with each thrust. That alone gets him harder.

You start moaning in your sleep. Theo isn't even going as deep as he could. He's just trying to get some satisfaction before falling asleep. You looked so pretty in the moonlight after all. How could he pass up such a perfect opportunity.

"Such a good little hole," he starts getting deeper, realizing he wants more.

The grip on your hips tightens, holding you down into the mattress. Since your body is stuck in place he gets rougher, getting you to squirm.

He moans again. Pleasure and alcohol is running through his body. He lets go of your hips to lay on you, holding your hands to the bed. He rests his head in the crook of your neck, breathing hot air onto your skin.

As he's getting closer, he's getting rougher. He hears more of your moans and whines.

"What a good little slut," he groans.

Those are the first words you hear when waking up. You're too tired to open your eyes but you feel his cock pumping in and out of you.

"T-Theo.."

You being away doesn't stop him. You actually think he got faster. You try to move but the weight of his body is keeping you in place. Your body still feels partially asleep too.

Your moans get louder as you start to feel more.

"You're a great toy," he moans into your ear. You moan more at this.

Finally he slams into you one last time before filling your hole with cum. He pants into your skin, too tired to pull out let alone get off of you.

You pant, still feeling tired but you're trying to fight it off. You start to think Theo fell asleep on top of you.

"Theo.." you whine. He doesn't say anything and doesn't move, his hardened cock still inside you. You whine again, feeling it twitch inside you. How are you supposed to fall back to sleep now.

Tag list~

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @fang-and-feather @xalxtusxiao @namine-somebodies-nobody @ana-thedaydreamer @evil-quartett @ameyoruakiikemenseries @yrenesposts @p1nkpandomium @tele86 @damekathearasi @lokis-laugh @candied-boys @breadmercury @aquagirl1978 @xenokiryu @nightghoul381 @vampiricpancake

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo #somno #somno kink #smut smut smut

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saphirered · 5 months

Note

Sending you a spice request from the prompts list! Steamy baths with Eris ;) can’t wait to see what you come up with!

Okay I may have gone a little filthy with this one. I'll own up to my spot in horny jail with the rest of you. 😘

It’s been a long day. The sun has yet barely reached it’s highest point and Eris is this close from incinerating the room for a moment of peace. Instead he is stuck dealing with the woes of politics, of presenting himself like an arrogant bastard, which he is admittedly but that does not mean he should let himself give in and speak his mind so freely. He has a reputation to uphold, a game to play and a throne to earn and until he sits upon it he shall play this game, however much it might annoy him to death. He will restrain the wildfire until freedom beckons. Oh how he longs for that freedom. His imagination gives him some escape and drowns out the useless words of bickering nobility.

He may sit at his father’s side but his mind is elsewhere, far from this council room in a distant court. Instead Eris finds himself in the vast forests he calls home. The leaves crunch beneath his feet, the smell of the autumn air relaxes his mind and body. The cooling breeze turns his fingertips slightly cold and numb. He finally feels like he can breathe. There is no eyes to be wary of. There is a presence beside him, some incoherent and far too distant words and he wishes nothing more than to have those words overshadow what his senses back in the real world pick up on. He would recognise that voice anywhere. You’re right beside him. Memory replays the feeling of your hand in his, your fingers warming that gentle chill. He looks to his side and there you are, smiling. What a beautiful smile you have. What beautiful eyes. He could drown in their depth. He could be lost forever if you did not snap him out of it. No that wasn’t you. His name was called by different voice, one intrusive and unwanted. He’s pushed back to reality, away from you and he mourns the lack of your presence. The only relief his mind offers is the knowledge he will see you soon.

You had known the promise he’d be back in your arms before you knew it was an empty one. You would never fault him for it. Eris, while a man of his word, could not control the circumstances of his extended life and responsibilities. Perhaps you might claim he was foolishly optimistic, but then again, he’s probably also aware of this fact and so it must be not but wishful thinking. Instead of a swift return to your side to watch the sunset you witnessed it on your own. Instead of a lovely dinner together you consumed your supper at the mostly empty table with the others left behind and excluded from the inter-court meetings. Not that you complain. You would rather be here enjoying a peaceful meal than deal with the bickering and moaning of idiots, vipers and idealists. You will attend if asked but will not mourn the lack of invitation.

You’ve other means to keep busy and you are not one to sit around and wait for someone to whisk you away and so you did. You tended to the hounds, read up on the latest ongoings, socialised here and there, trained, made yourself useful, saw to your correspondence, went out for a ride, helped tend to the gardens and more. You kept busy on your own but every once in a while your mind would wander and think what your darling love would be up to, how he must be fighting the urge to roll his eyes or verbally tear apart another, how he must be polishing his shields both social and mental and weave a narrative that puts him at the advantage. You know Eris pretends it doesn’t affect him but you know the truth. You have seen him sit on the edge of the bed, his hands in his hair. You’ve watched him politely excuse himself to unleash the boiling of his blood upon some poor unsuspecting clearing. You have listened to his rambling about courtiers and high lords. You have held him when he questioned if it was all worth it.

It is because of these things you know you do not mind the lack of his constant attention. In fact, you do not think you could bear it in the first place. So you dine without your lover, you find your own amusement come sundown. In the spirit of this time to yourself you have the staff draw you a bath. If you are to spend this night alone you will do so in comfort. A bath will ease the ache of your muscle and soothe your skin quite nicely. That’s where you find yourself now, a large bath filled with steaming water, the scent of bergamot in the air. You’ve sunken down to your neck, leaning back and enjoying the warmth. You’ve sent off the maids with the implication you will tend to yourself and do not need to be coddled by their nurturing grace. Peace and quiet and solitude, that’s what you require and that’s what you shall get. Your mind wanders far and pleasantly so. You forget the meaning of time and the water must have long since cooled to a lukewarm but you care little.

“We shall conclude this meeting some other time.” Eris had both dreaded and longed for those words. The meeting has finally ended and so he is finally dismissed. It ended up taking another hour or so before he could detach himself from his own entanglement, before he could escape further dealings with the Night Court and turning down Helion’s open invitation to visit the esteemed libraries once more. Finally he left behind the blabbering high lords’ council and found himself back int he comforts of cool darkness graced with lantern light. The feeling of leaves crushing beneath his boots is a stark contrast from the marble and stone he’d been surrounded by for the day. He has missed the sunset but the stars breaking through the clouds offer some relief at last.

With each step the takes, even after he walks through the threshold and back into wood and stone, the burdens stay at the doorstep, the further he gets from it, the more his body relaxes, or so he thinks. Everything feels easier. He chooses to ignore those in passing, using his power within his own court to brush them aside; nothing out of character for him. Nothing anyone can blame him for either. They expect him to be upset with another meeting ending in a stalemate waste of time. Let the court know. He will turn it to his advantage either way. Finally the portal to his comfort comes within sight and had he less restraint he might have ran and locked away the world behind him forever. Instead he slips through the doors quietly and closes them behind him.

The candles are alight. The fireplace is but embers at this point. He simply throws in another log. A simple breath of air sparks the flames to life and allow them to catch. When the wood crackles Eris is satisfied. With whatever graces he found within him he carries himself to the bedroom, discards his shoes and socks, letting the cold run through his feet in an attempt to remind himself he is not but floating upon the winds of exhaustion. He unclasps his tailored jacket and casts it aside as if it were not the livelihood of the ones who made it. He has lost the will to care. He could have collapsed onto the bed when he first laid eyes on it but the gentle candle glow from the bathing room kept him standing.

With a soft creak the door opens and within lies a sight beholden, a true treasure and one that should be captured for eternity. Perhaps he would owe the High Lady of Night a favour if that’s what it took to eternalise this. Perhaps the only thing stopping him is how you’d scold him for it. Perhaps he fears it might inflate your ego far past measure. Your eyes are closed. You are leaned back, head just above the water and neck fully exposed. The light graces your features just perfectly as it reflects.

“The bed is far better suited for sleeping than a bathtub. No matter how comfortable you might look.” Eris slowly makes his way over to you. You take a deep breath and open your eyes. Your eyes. He forgets all he’s endured with but a single glance. Sadly this only lasts but a second.

“You are quite right but I’m not tired. Just relaxed.” You let your fingers dance over the surface of the water. “You should try it some time, my love.” Even now you find it within yourself to humour him.

“Some of us do not have the luxury to relax this much. I shall reserve and defend that right for you and you alone.” He takes your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss but then realises. “The water is awfully cold.” he simply states, still he kisses your fingertips.

“Well I didn’t have you here to help me warm it.” The sultry look you give him has him nearly undone in that instant. How he’s longed for your company. The once certainty that keeps him from insanity in the chaos; the serenity you bring but what rushes through him right there is anything but serene and the implications you present are anything but innocent. Eris forgets the tiredness that haunted his body and finds a different spark of life. You’ve learned to light it, made an art form out of it.

“How unbecoming of me.” He’s on his knees at the side of the tub and gently brings your fingers back beneath the surface of the cooling water. With but a brush from right where your legs are bent, all the way to just in front of your chest the water heats in but seconds, steam evaporating but those fingers do not stop trailing there. they trail a scalding but never painful path up your sternum and the column of your neck until they settle and lift your chin. That same heat burns in the kiss he plants upon your lips. Far too short. His lips pull away far too quickly and you might as well have been exposed to the frigid cold of winter then and there. By the looks of it Eris know it too.

“If you are in no mood to assist me, I suppose I shall simply retire.” You rise exposing all the delicious curves of your body and giving him an ample view as the droplets run across your skin. Eris imagines he could kiss them all away, let his lips trail across you like they do and perhaps you shall grace him with the lovely sounds you make when he takes his lips to you.

“You misunderstand, my dearest. But if you wish to cut short this bath I am more than willing and consenting to helping you to bed. Or we can stay here and enjoy a bath… or two.” You seem to weigh your options but simply by the way your pupils dilate; the way they do when he’s broken through your composure, to where your desire truly sparks and you will not be afraid to make him eat his words.

You do not reply in words but simply hold out your hand and raise an eyebrow. Eris is quick to take your hand and help you out of the bathtub. You are dripping onto the floor but seem to care very little as you saunter over to the towels. The sway of your hips and sultry look over your shoulder are definitely intentional. Nevertheless you take a towel and pad yourself dry until he can’t help himself and gently eases the towel from you and equally gently uses it to pad you dry until you’re satisfied. Once you are you stand in front of him, close within arm’s reach. You trail a nail along the neckline of his shirt and sigh content. The wickedness in your eyes is but a giveaway of your next actions. Your fingers grasp onto his shirt and pull him to you, once more your lips meet his and this time the kiss is anything but soft and sweet.

Your lips grace his in a feverish kiss. Eris does not hesitate to return the favour. He lets his hands wander until they settle on your behind. In one fell swoop you are off your feet and wrap your legs around his waist. Never once do you break your kiss. Your tongues meet and you wrap your arms around his neck clutching him ever closer. Like he has done many times before, Eris caries you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, graceful as ever and never once stumbling. He has committed this path to memory but finally he has to break away. You are a sight to behold; lips swollen, out of breath, and eyes filled with desire honing in on him. He takes great pride in being able to make you come so undone. he lays you down on the bed and you crawl backwards to give him space to join you among the pillows.

Eris crawls overtop, trailing a path of kisses from your calves over your knees and thighs and you think, you hope he would settle among the apex of your legs but instead he just looks up at you and trails his lips up further across the plains of your stomach. It’s difficult to resist the urge to whine in protest and by the looks of it he noticed. Still he trails up and up until he meets your lips in another desire filled kiss so you decide fair is fair and let your hands wander over his clothed chest, down to where his shirt is tucked into the waistband of his fitted trousers and let your finger slip below that cursed waistband but never enough. All you do is release the shirt and Eris decides to undo your torture by taking it off entirely with a knowing look.

“If you wished to get my out of my clothes you could have just asked.” He muses casting the garment aside. It’s torture to keep yourself together right now and not just succumb to carnal pleasure. This is just foreplay and it’s a game you’d hoped to win but you see your chances of success fleeting. To see him on his knees before you, cauldron boil you.

“Dick.” You curse and his chuckle does not make you feel any different.

“You’ll have to work harder for that.” He crawls back overtop just to place a peck upon your lips. When you go in for more, you feel his hand on your neck, to keep you at bay. His grip isn’t strong or suffocating, just present, floating and preventing your lips from meeting his. You huff.

Eris’ response to your dissatisfaction is cruelty, he knows. Leaving kisses, letting his tongue trail he takes to your chest until you cannot hold back the whimpers and moans, until you fight to hold back the beg for more, only then does he trail lower yet always too slow. But then finally, it all pays off when he descends between your legs and puts his mouth to work, licking and kissing your inner thighs inching closer to the centre, until finally he does. He does not relent, not when your breathing increases and your whines turn to whispers of his name, not when your fingers settle within his hair and hold on, push him closer. When your legs wrap closer around him he grasps onto your thighs, spreading them further while placing a hand onto your abdomen just in the right place. He doesn’t relent when he feels you shudder and shake in your pleasure, not until you come down from that high and your body goes limp for but a second.

He keeps going and soon without a moment of rest you tumble into pure ecstasy again and again. Only when you pull his hair, pull his face away from between your legs, when you are truly out of breath and your eyes are burning, your skin is on fire and you have lost the ability to speak, only then does he relent. You guide him up, to meet his lips. He knows you can taste yourself on his tongue when his dances with yours. He knows you need this right now. It’s the only break you’ll receive, especially when he feels your hands wander down below and undo the buttons of his pants. His own arousal is undeniable and while he would be more than satisfied using his tongue to make you cry his name, you have other intentions and ideas he’s more than happy to help you see through even if it takes all his restraint not to spill at your touch and your disheveled look when he parts and you help him out of his last clothes, casting them aside he cares not where.

You have vengeance on your mind and when he is caught of guard, when you are so close to kissing him you push him back onto the bed and straddle him. Your fingers lace with his as you hold them on either side of his head. You lean down to kiss him once more with a wicked smirk. Perhaps it would be you who wouldn’t be done with him for some time.

#acotar x reader #eris x reader #acotar eris #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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baby-jaguar · 2 days

Text

Lust by Nature {Part 4}

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Read on ao3

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!Reader

MDNI: 18+!

Warnings for this chapter: Drugging, hinted non-con but just a hair

Word Count: 5,777

Summary: He’d been used to the small messages telling him to make you simmer down, something not uncommon in the scope of you being, well, you.

A/N: There are a few POV Shifts and time skips in here, denoted by the "---". Work has been kicking my butt so sorry this is late. I hope ye enjoy

Waking up, you almost bit a medic’s hand off.

Wild and afraid. It was sudden and the place was seemingly so new that it triggered your fight or flight. You did not want them anywhere close and for far too long than you deemed necessary. Insistent on them leaving you to heal on your own even if you’re sucked dry of any magic at this point. Snapping your teeth like a wild animal when one medic tried taking your shirt off to get to the gouge on your side, before snarling as two were tag teaming you to keep you down.

Something about their hands not feeling warm enough, not having the smell of tobacco leaves stained into their skin to leave a trail of smoke. Yet there was something lurking in the air. Something different; You knew the scent was familiar, it felt like it belonged in the medical ward yet it shouldn’t be here near you. It screamed danger, something clawing and scratching at your mind to remember.

The scent trails around the room like the smell of burnt clover, making your stomach want to recoil and throw up its acid with the lack of any substance in it.

The lab.

Neurons fire off, and your hackles are raised. Literally. Hissing and ignoring the medics around you, yowling like a damned animal in pain when you realize what you’re smelling. Stuck in fear, now grappling with the sheets as your hands grab onto the bed rails, shaking the bed as you shift in short and shaky bursts.

---

Somedays Price’s office felt like a sanctuary, while others, it feels like his own jail cell. Head down, furiously scribbling his memories onto paper to prepare the after-action report while leaving a separate sheet blank and off to the side with your name at the top.

God, he had it in his head that he needed to be so fucking pissed at you. For the dream, for disobeying orders, for getting hurt. But he knows it’s irrational and can at least objectify his emotions enough to see them from a third-person point of view.

His head’s in his ass and he’s acting like a fucking boy.

Even Soap had earned a scolding from the Captain, taking it in strive to only break the berating with a smirk on his lips. He knew. Johnny knew, Ghost knew, and even fucking Gaz knew that you were getting underneath Price’s skin. Something no woman had ever done so easily and successfully before.

His cell rings, not his personal mobile but rather his work flip phone. One that either means business or trouble.

“Laswell.”

The number was unsaved, as all are since this was the one he toted around everywhere while deployed.

“Captain. I’ve got some news for you. Now a good time?”

Leaning back, he takes this saving grace as a moment to rest his eyes and hand from writing. “Of course. Wha’s goin’ on?”

There’s shuffling on the other end of the line, sounding like she’s standing up to walk somewhere. Price presumes it is towards a window. Dramatic woman.

“We’ve gotten word that there's some unrest back in-”

Her statement is cut off when the phone begins vibrating again. “Laswell, hold on. I’ve been expecting this call, can I catch you in a moment?”

A scoff is his answer before cutting the call and switching to the new one.

“Yes?”

“Need you in Med, stat. Saint’s going-”

“On it.” Snapping his phone shut while moving to the door. He’d been used to the small messages telling him to make you simmer down, something not uncommon in the scope of you being, well, you.

He can hear the commotion at the end of the hall before he’s near the door. Opening the door in a flurry, he finds you in a state he’s never seen before; Wide-eyed, backed into the back of the bed, and curled up to shield yourself. A second sweep of the room makes him realize you’re not protecting yourself from the medics. No, you’re looking towards him, but seemingly not at him.

“Saint.” The growl catches your attention, focusing on his mustache twitching as his eyebrows furrow. “Care to tell me why the medics said you need to leave the infirmary before you make one of the staff go to inpatient?”

“It's wrong. Doesn’t smell right.” In return, your head only snaps in his direction, eyes only keeping on his for a moment. “Don’t take me back, I don’t want to go back.”

The blatant stare you receive is more than enough to let you know he’s lost in whatever this whirlwind of emotions is. “You need to settle down, and behave.” The whisper is a promised threat, entirely off-kilter from what you need right now.

“I don’t want them touching me!” You hiss almost petulantly, being sure to restrain your voice for only him to hear. “I have to leave. Just let me heal myself, please-”

His hands move out of sight from your narrowed eyes as you beg; Coming up to capture your jaw with one hand as the other holds your shoulder. He steadily leans in to hold your face still.

“You need to stay and get checked out. You were hurt, sweetheart.” The harsh command battles with the softness of his palm cupping your jaw as his thumb stroking your cheek.

That’s when you saw him through the window.

A man, dressed in square glasses and a white coat that seemed cheap and fake in material. A scam of a man. Dr. Deidrick.

This man knows you well, as you know him. He was a constant in the lab, the person who oversaw all testing of blood, vitals, but most importantly testing the magic inside you. A large amount of scars on your body were because of him, always measuring your healing capabilities depending on your energy levels and what you had used as energy prior to the test.

Locked in a stare-down, Price only registers your change when you stiffen and stagger a breath. “What’s wrong?”

Looking at where your eyes are, he finds the man looking in through the small door window, glaring at your face, seemingly at where Price touches you gently. When he moves to glance at Price, he gives a small nod before entering.

“Everything okay, Captain?” His tone is polite and neutral, speaking to Price while his gaze remains on you. “Is she having a little fit?”

The clicks of his dress shoes make more noise of his entrance, your hands latching onto Price’s forearms.

“And you are?”

The doctor laughs, giving a smile more than forced. This you know for certain.

“My apologies, I am Dr. Deidrick. I came to visit once I heard our little demon was wounded.”

His possessiveness in the phrasing alone ticks off the Captain's mind, raising questions as to what in the fuck is going on. He can feel the slight tremor of your hold and, for more decency, the hand cupping your jaw moves to hold onto yours.

“So, you’re from the facility?”

“Yes, I was her previous caretaker in medical for the last several years.” Cockiness evident when his attention shifts to grab the chart at the end of the bed. “I hope you do not mind I came to check in on her healing and progress. Just a simple evaluation and report.”

He reads over the chart for a moment; Flipping the page while moving closer to your side, opposite of Price.

“How are you feeling, Devil?”

Instead of quiping a sharp or actual answer, the response is enough to shock the Captain.

“Hello, Dr. Deidrick.” Speaking softly and politely, as if you were some nobel greeting a high priest. Don’t misbehave.

You’ve learned this lesson with him.

“Hello. Now, how are you feeling?” He digs in further with the question, eyes moving up from the paper with a weighted look.

“I’m fine. Sore. Tender. I told them I could heal on my own.”

"Mm..." Dedrick watches as you speak before moving to place the clipboard down, grabbing a pair of gloves. "And you believe that you can heal yourself easily?" His voice remaining calm and civil.

That's one thing you’ve always hated. Even in the cruelest and inhumane moments when studying creatures and hybrids alike, he had the calmest voice.

“Yes, I’ve dealt with worse.” Spitting the answer at him in a quick snap, you can't help but let anger flare. “You of all people should know that.”

Dedrick's expression changes for the first time. His eyebrows raise and jaw tightening in warning with a sharp look.

"I know that you can heal, but that doesn't mean that you should." A hint of an edge to his voice bleeds through. "Your injuries are still serious. If you leave here before fully healed, that would be highly irresponsible."

“The medics already cleaned and sutured it. There’s nothing more to do.”

You can see the game he plays, yet you’re playing it too. Price doesn’t know, the entirety of your team doesn’t know. If for their sake or the sake of keeping yourself alive, it's not certain.

Telling Price would solve this problem right here, right now. Screaming the horrors Dr. Deidrick has committed to others and to you could easily raise alarm bells through the whole base, yet you remain a perfect little actor. Just as you were trained.

“I’ll determine that for you, not you.” Deidrick retorts shorty, gaze shifting from your body to Price. “I will have to do an exam of the wound and her damage. Just to make sure there are no outliers to her magic or health.”

There isn't room for argument here, seeing as Price is a Captain and not a fucking Doctor over mystical creatures and beings.

“Well, I can be in the room with her. That be an issue?”

The most Deidrick can muster is a forced grin, narrowing his eyes to Price’s presence. “Yes, that is perfectly understandable for you to oversee the process, Captain.”

A swift silence ensues as Deidrick walks to the medical cabinets and the end of the room, looking over his clipboard and grabbing medical tools- the kind that isn’t even needed but instead for show. All for the sake of Price.

The velcro cuff of the sphygmomanometer wraps around your arm before the manual pump begins from Deidricks hands. The cold stethoscope in the crook of your elbow, silence as he measures your blood pressure. Just as he is about to speak, the sharp ringing of a dial tone sounds out.

“Shit- I have to take this.” Price’s hand retrieves the phone from his pocket, confirming the caller. “Be right back.”

“No… No, please.” Unabasidly begging, your hands on your Captains arm to try and anchor him to you. “Don’t go.” It's a quiet plead, begging if that, but the wild look in your eyes makes him stiffen for a moment while caught between two choices.

“I’ll be right back. Be good.” The faint squeeze of your hand registers in tandem with him leaning down to place a reassuring kiss on your head. Before you can beg again, he’s out the door.

---

“Laswell.” Price speaks quietly into the phone, moving into the hallway near the medic’s station, a few idling around on their computers to input vitals.

“Said you were gonna call me back, John. Got worried your old mind forgot about me.”

A small scoff out of courtesy for the woman's harsh humor, yet he doesn’t say anything back.

“Anyway, I need to tell you where your group has been assigned to. You’re headed out to-”

“Do you happen to know if any personnel relating to Saint's previous facility can be on base?”

Cutting off Laswell would usually end with a sharp reprimand akin to an elementary school teacher. Yet this question is well worth her thought. Even she can recognize that.

“Not without warning and an established confirmation of visitation. It’s the normal protocol for off-site visitors to that level. Why?”

He chews the side of his cheek, nodding in thought as he confirms what he previously knew. His eyes flit between your medical room’s door, the window to the outside, before settling on a whiteboard with various patient names.

“There’s a doctor in the med unit with her right now. Say’s he found out she was wounded and came to check on her… That’s just downright unnatural when she was wounded three days ago for fuck sake. How’d he even find out?”

Silence greets him in response, but it's a sign of her thinking. A tussle of paper sounds out before typing on her keyboard. “There was no agreement or discernment of their medical staff being on base. Only the executives and her previous commander. He shouldn’t be there nor even have access.”

It only confirms Price’s simmering anxiety, eyes stuck on your door from afar.

“What did you say his name was?”

“Dr. Deidrick. Said he’d be givin’ her an exam of the wound-” The words die in a sharp crumble on his tongue when you scream his name.

“Was that-”

“Send the boys my way, I’m dealing with it.” Hanging up the phone, his body already shouldering the door at a moment’s notice.

It doesn’t budge.

Looking through the window, he’s met with your wide eyes, brows arched up, while your body tries to scurry off the bed yet you’re not even moving. The sight of brown leather tied to your wrists becomes glaringly obvious.

“Somebody get this door open, right fucking now!” The bellow echos in the hallway, sending a fluttering panic around the staff while he continuously tries to shoulder the door and get the handle down.

“John! Help me!” Your howling meets his ears to send a shiver down his spine. I should have listened, I should have stayed, I should be in there.

I should be protecting her.

Shifting his stance to the left, he can see Deidrick at the counters, holding up a small brown vial while extracting its contents into a syringe. Only after he deems it filled, pushing the air bubble out, does he look to Price.

“It’s just to settle her down, not to worry.”

God, he wants to throw up. He wants to murder this man with his hands and rip each artery from his body to hang up as vines growing onto the wall. He wants nothing more than to soothe your crying face in his arms away from whatever torture is going on right in front of him.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THE KEY?” He shouts again, sparing a glance towards the staff as five of them look in drawers around the main pod of their stations.

Movement from the room demands his attention, the footsteps ringing out in heavy weighted clicks on the floors. You can’t even look back to Price, struggling like an animal caught in a metal trap.

---

“They already know, just fucking run while you can.” The guttural hiss is uncontrolled as it leaves you, voice raw from lack of water in your mouth accompanied by the panting of your breath. Eyes only set on Deidrick, you can’t focus on anything but keeping the needle away from you.

“This is your exam, my dear. There’s no harm in that.” He chastizes, tsking you with a mocking voice. Fully seeing his old self alights your body and magic, trying to strum out of you like a whip, yet so dulled into yourself with nothing to thrive on.

“I can see how weak you are. Have they not been taking care of you?” The coldness of his hand dawns upon your face, grabbing roughly on your jaw to pull you towards him. “You know I can give you what you need.” The green of his eyes makes you sour, having only ever seen them as a rancid mix of piss yellow and barf green to match his existence.

“You’ll settle down and be a good girl for me, yeah? Just like old times.”

“I can’t wait to torture you in hell.”

He laughs, a genuine smile lighting his face up as he leans in closer. “The sweetest promise of eternity, devil.”

Moving back after giving your jaw a far too firm squeeze, his bony fingers bring the needle up to the light to double-check before gripping the meat of your bicep. “Dont. Move.”

You couldn’t hear anything over the commotion outside, thus, when the metal door slams open, you jump.

Right into the fucking needle.

A shocked cry leaves you, eyes now stuck in fear to watch for the amount he pushes through.

Half of the dose goes into your arm.

It would have been more, save for the body that immediately pulls him and the needle away from you, throwing him onto the ground.

Price stands, heaving and shaking with a snarl lighting up his face while looking down on the man.

“When I put you under, it will be six feet under the god damned ground.” His hands are on the man in a flurry of movements, checking his waistline for any other surprises, and when finding none, he throws a punch at him.

Then again. And again. And Again.

You don’t realize you’re stuck in a trance of watching him until warm hands find your wrist on the opposite side of the commotion. You’re startled until being met with warm brown eyes that match his skin, his smile calming.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” Gaz’s hands work quickly on undoing the straps of your wrists, letting the sounds of the fighting echo in the room while rushing footsteps come from the hallway.

Ghost and Soap enter the doorway, a quick survey before getting to Price and doing god knows what to the man- you can’t see anymore as Gaz cradles you into his neck. Tucking the blanket around your backside before carrying you away in a bridal carry, he shushes you when his scent and warmth break you into a sob.

“Shh, it’s okay. We’ve got you now.” Vaguely registering his lips on your head, your eyes dim into a barely open gaze while the world moves too fast around you. Hot tears track down your face and onto his shirt.

“You’re with us now. Not gonna let that happen ever again.”

The sound of a whimper mixes in when you call out his name. Raising a hand to grasp his shirt in a weak fist as you register him moving you to somewhere through the hallways. Somewhere familiar; the team’s common room.

“Gonna make you nice and comfortable right here. Not gonna leave you, Saint.”

And in the most ironic series of events, for a second time, your world goes dark.

---

The sound of the TV playing a god-forsaken soccer football game makes you stir. Muscles stiff and tired, a feeling of something on the back of your hand makes you wince. Groaning, you move the other hand to paw at the intrusion, before someone else’s touch halts you.

“Hey now, none of that.” The soft voice from earlier speaks out, with an almost hint of authority as he moves your hands away from each other. “You’ve got an IV in you, Need to keep that in for a bit longer.”

Stirring, the world comes back into view when your eyes open slowly and try to blink the yellow overhead lights away. “Gaz?” His name is slurred in your drowsy speech, head lifting up to look around before finding him face to face with you.

“Good morning, Princess. How’ya feelin?”

Stiff, sore, like you just got run over by a train.

“Not too bad.” Sitting in his lap, now in a pair of sweats and a shirt that you recognize isn’t yours, you both sit under a fuzzy blanket pulled from your room. “What happened? Where is-?”

“Hang on, let's focus on you first. Does your side hurt right now?”

It does, a constant stinging that radiates into a dull thrumming. It feels bulky, the firmness of tape keeping down what you presume to be gauze while it pulls at the peachfuzz on your skin. Your arm, the one that took the injection, feels sorer than after a full mission.

“Feels fine right now, would like some meds maybe later.” Quietly responding before looking up to his brown eyes. While Gaz usually has enough snark to serve his entire country, his gently and nurturing tendencies highlight in the soft and intimate moment.

He holds the qualities of a leader, and possibly be concerning at his young age. But seeing as he’s grown under Price’s wing, being a favored candidate from the beginning, maybe his weight was a shouldered experience to lighten the Captain's load. Maybe he won’t be able to fully take his place until the gentleness withers away into hate and bloodborne desire to bark and bite under the pull of a leash.

Maybe he’ll get sick of it and decide to have a family, leaving this life behind when he feels his hands have turned far too dirty.

He turns his gaze to the TV for a moment, drawing a long sigh in before releasing, a small frown on his lips. “You remember anything?”

You’d rather not. Had you still been in a sterile environment, you’d have woken in a panic just as before.

“Yes. The… yes.” Glancing away, you can feel the shift in your eyes focus. “I remember something happening when I saw Price’s face then you were there.”

You miss the look of worry on his face when the game on TV catches your attention as someone scores. “Where are the others?’

“Price and Soap dealing with the brass. Ghost was here a second ago but will be right back.” Gaz’s head tilts back behind him to check around before reaching up to the IV bag behind you two. “You’re just about finished, you fine if I take this out?”

Offering him your hand, he removes the tube and tape before placing a gauze square and bandaid over it. “Not supposed to take it out until you’re completely done, but you’ll drink your water, yea?” Inadvertently speaking close to your ear while he clamps the IV line shut, a chill runs down your spine.

“Mm, I will. Thank you.” Silent gratitude for him being sweet enough to let you off the tether, you take it as a signal of freedom and try to get up. Before being interrupted.

“Stay down, Saint.”

Ghost enters the archway of the common room; Dressed in baggy sweats and a T-shirt that shouldn't be as form-fitting as it is. A black gator mask hides the lower half of his face. He makes his way to a spot on the couch adjacent to you and Gaz.

“Your stitches are barely holding from earlier. Not allowed to be moving like that.”

Underneath you, Gaz squirms while clearing his throat once you settle down. “Ah, actually. Ghost.” He starts, voice now sounding reluctant with trepidation. “You mind taking over for a bit? Haven’t eaten and need to piss.”

A mix between a laugh and worry crosses your mind as you pout when realizing he’d been here the whole time with you.

“Sorry, Kyle.” Whispered as you give his shoulder a pat, looking to Ghost for whatever his plan would be. “How long was I out?”

The lieutenant scoots next to you, arms brought out to grab underneath your legs and back before gently transferring you into his lap. You can feel Gaz getting up behind you, a soft squeeze on your shoulder before he leaves. “Bout an hour ‘n half.”

The difference between Gaz and Ghost is definitely in size, but the lieutenants body is firm and demands that you accommodate to him rather than how Gaz’s size lets his boldly mold to you. You’re still blinking slowly, sluggishly trying to reintegrate your mind into full speed. A grunt acknowledges the statement.

“Didn’t know you had blond hair.”

Ghost is pretty, not even in his own way, he is just simply pretty. Brown eyes contrast the lightness of his hair, some spots missing where scars trail over his scalp. His forehead also having lines from stitches done too messy, wrinkles from years of fighting, and a few freckles decorate the top bridge of his nose. A second scan shows a hairline scar over his left eyelid, a group of eyelashes being blond where the scar ends.

“You wouldn’t ‘ave known.” A huffed laugh makes his chest puff up, only looking down at you for a moment before watching the game.

Before you can even ask another question, he voice muted. “That… doctor. He wasn’t supposed to be on base. Not even from what he did, but there was no agreement to have the facility’s medical here. Not even the command can get on here without clearance and a schedule.”

The clench in your jaw halts your words, growing almost distant in the eyes as you digest the information. “So how did he get on base? Just lie his way through everything?”

Ghost sighs, watching one of the teams score a goal before turning back to you.

“Yes. Fucking skunk lied his way through, altered some ID and got into medical. They say he was watching over your file and once he saw your name ping in as a combat injury, he was acting as your attending and case manager.”

It really should send more of a chill down your back than the small amount it does, rather, a sluggish feeling churning in your stomach. You’ve been through horrible things. Having eyes on you stopped phasing you a while ago.

Letting the conversation drop, you both turn your attention towards the football game to watch the halfway point. You find a place for your face to rest on his collarbone, laying yourself to use his chest like a pillow. He doesn’t react, yet in moments where the visiting team comes close to scoring a goal, his knee bounces in anticipation.

“Did you ever play any sports?”

His knee settles before responding. “Hockey. Short time, but ‘s fun.”

“Hm, was gonna take you for a rugby kinda guy.”

“Nah, that's more John’s style. The both of them.” The mental image of a younger pair of Johns conjures in your mind, a soft grin twitching the corners of your mouth at the thought. “Sometimes they’ll play when we’re together on leave.”

“Leave?” A pause as your eyes blink open slowly. You don’t remember closing them. “Like you guys just… Leave?”

The feeling of his large, warm, hand moving to hold your back comes when he shifts to look down at you. “Leave. When we get a break from duty.” It comes out as a question more so, his brows furrowing down.

“Oh.” Matching his confusion. “I didn’t get to have those. Nowhere to just, go.” You didn’t have a home, lost that long ago. Sadness was gaslit into happiness by telling yourself you didn’t have to pay rent, and bills, and not worrying about the economy.

Something shifts in his eyes, Ghost himself looking like a kicked puppy now as he takes in your implications. Softness emits subtly in his eyes and the way he slightly rests you on his chest when pushing you into him.

“I’m sure you can ask Capt’ to fix that.” A soft scratch of your scalp leads you to settle down, and when you keep breathing in the smell of him, you fall asleep.

---

“... lost it by a point. Bloody coach looks like a muppet.”

“Won’t be able to show his face for the next year. Damn bloke.”

The voice sends enough of a spark to take you out of your REM cycle, now taking stock of where you’re at. From the smell of it, you’re on the couch but now lay on it instead of a body. There's a few more steps of shuffling before it stills.

“How is she?”

The warmth next to you grunts, shifting to leave the couch. “Seems fine, but fell back asleep quickly once Gaz left ‘er with me.” The new set of footsteps have a distinct gait, trying to be silent but failing with the TV no longer being on. “How’d your side go?”

“Almost got me on excessive force.” The croaky voice makes your mind wake up more, realizing its Price. “Almost knocked the brass out hearing that. Had to make sure he saw the vials and needles he snuck in.”

“Was he going to… do anyth-”

“No.” Price cuts Ghost off immediately, something lying in the tautness of his voice. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know, else I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.”

Exhaustion covers your body and mind, fighting it to the point where it feels like you have to unstick yourself from the couch but tingling makes your body want to still. You pull on your muscles enough that Price notices.

“Hey, pretty girl. Can you hear me?”

The groan that leaves you is enough of a signal that you can. One of his hands moves to pet your hair down as the other adjusts the blanket on you. Footsteps elsewhere fade away, signaling Ghost’s departure. Your eyes open to watch Price squat down in front of you.

“There she is.” He coo’s in a hushed whisper. Part of you wants to cry at how good it makes your heart feel. All you can manage is a whimper.

“Still tired?”

“Mhh. Yes.” Croaking makes you realize how thirsty you are, somewhat regretting not staying up to drink your water like you’d promised Gaz. “Where were you?”

Blue eyes leave the depths of your red ones, tracing over your face to your neck, down to your body, and how you lay on your uninjured side. “Taking care of business. Nothing to worry about.”

His hand comes back to your arm, making you flinch as he presses onto the tiny spot of dried blood. The small twinge of pain from his softness makes you want to scream at him, cry at him while crying for him to hold you. To give any emotion clearly while silence eats away between you.

“Did I mess up?”

The white of his eyes shows a bit more when he widens them in surprise, fliting up to hold your gaze. “No… No, Saint. You did not mess up.” In a moment, he moves to his knees, crowding you onto the couch while bringing your face closer to his. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have left you in there. Should have fuckin’ listened to you.”

In a twisted sense, the couch seems like his pew, and you are the body he weeps over. Wrapped in a blanket is a far-off notion from any white to be buried in, but your open eyes just feel so tired and dulled from the last few days. Rightfully so. His hands cup your face like they would hold a bible open, finding scripture in the features of your face.

Price doesn’t cry. How much would it take to make him? Has he had a family? Did he lose someone he loved because of enemies? Did he have a tragic backstory that granted him an almost immortal sense of luck?

There’s certainly no angel on his shoulder because you’d have fought and killed it on the first day.

“You didn’t know.” Starting hoarsely, swallowing the saliva in your mouth. “I didn’t want you to know.”

There's dissatisfaction from hearing your answer, a pull at the corners of his mouth. “I need to know, Saint. I have to know. That’s not goin’ to happen again.” Leaning down to press his chapped lips to your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

The feeling of his hair in your hands is surprisingly soft, almost as surprising when you realize you’re bringing him in to kiss you.

It’s soft, languid, and slow, yet anxiety boiling at the bottom of your stomach. His lips part yours, leading you to taste the tobacco you tried days ago. His mustache and beard scratch your face, prickling your skin in an added sense of feeling to grapple onto. Dragging you closer with an arm wrapped behind your back, his tongue teases yours before diving in deeper.

“While this is sickeningly romantic,”

The voice makes you gasp like a whore in her lover's shared bed, the drawl sardonic enough to know it is exactly not that.

It’s so much worse.

“I rather prefer a different type of scene.”

The woman stands against the doorway, arms crossed while she surveys the scene. Dressed in black pants and a turtleneck, her blue eyes light up with the white overcoat that shields her from the coldness of desert nights.

“Kate-” Price backpedals, separating himself from you enough to sit up straight from his place on the floor. Stuttering, he glances at you before back to her, a blush fading into existence on his aged skin. “I- uh. What are you doing here?’

Kate Laswell, smirks before looking at you with a slightly softer expression. She’s still cocky through and through from catching her prestigious ally making out with his little demon.

“After the shit show got up the ladder, I decided to make a quick trip to check-in. And, you never called me back, Captain.”

Ok, now it is starting to seem like a lovers quarrel. Feeling out of place, you don't move until Price takes a moment to clear his throat, leaning forward as if to obstruct you from her view.

“Well, I’m assuming it’s more serious than a phone call let it out to be.” Standing his hand brushes your shoulder before he crosses his arms. Laswell watches, moving forward a bit. Her eyes glance towards you, a subtle nod in greeting.

“Pleasure to meet you, Saint. Sorry to interrupt.” Absolutely no shame eludes from this woman. Continuing on, she holds Price’s gaze; “A base just got accredited for their first hybrid operator. Similar to our situation with Saint.” She takes a moment to look over you, briefly checking out the remainder of the IV bag on its stand. “Need you to go do didactics for our friends.”

“And which friends are you speaking of this time.”

She pauses, a flicker of her lips turning upwards if only for a moment.

“You’ll be headed back to Las Almas.”

As if watching a dramatic TV show, your eyes flit back to take in his reaction. If you had the energy, you’d feel bad for Price’s stress levels. With the sigh he lets out, you know that he can never catch a break.

#task force 141 #call of duty #cod mw2 #captain john price #call of duty modern warfare #tf141 #john price #john price x reader #captain jonathan price #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #sergeant kyle gaz garrick #simon riley ghost #ghost simon riley #simon riley #is this how you write suspense #John Price needs a break

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dvredevil-s-initivls · 2 years

Text

Biased

Aka : a self indulgent Matt Murdock fanfic that has been stuck in my head. You’re a jury counsellor and with a single night he changes your decision

Characters : Matt Murdock, jury Y/N

Warnings : oral (f receiving) unprotected sex,piv sex , Matt Murdock, slow burn

“The jury should not be biased by one or another attorney and their choice”

“Melanie, I told you. I left the earring on my bedside table, I don’t know where it went and that’s it! And i don’t know anyone else except you who lives in our apartment!” You sighed. Your roommate had taken your hoop earring but she didn’t wanna accept it.

It was a hot day for New York . The heavy air of July bothered the people as you went back to the courthouse after eating your lunch (a 15 dollars sandwich with extra iceberg salad ).

Your job wasn’t that hard, although it was picky. Almost everything depended on you and that weight on your shoulders was heavy. How the person’s life will go depends on you. That thought was eating you from the inside since you actually got the job for court jury. The case you were working on for now, was one of your biggest. A woman had killed her husband and lover, burying them in the back garden. Apparently her excuse was “that both of them had cheated” . Ugh, what a skunk.

Your former superior, Blake tower was fighting against some unknown firm, “Nelson & Murdock” . You thought that tower’s point of view was the right one and that the woman should go to jail, but she just continued saying that she didn’t kill them, but confronted them.

After a while you and your coworkers had decided on a break which led you here, sitting in the lounge room of NY’s courtroom, arguing on the phone with Mel and her friends.

Someone with a tall figure approached you, a cane in his hand. You realized it was that other attorney, mr. Murdock. “Uhh, I’ll call you back, Mel.” You put your phone to the side, helping the man sit on the chair in front of you. “I believe you’re Y/L/N, right? I wanted to talk to you about the DA, Tower.” He said, his voice confident and low. He was handsome, and somehow, he knew it. His chin was always high ahead, voice lingering over people’s minds. His hair a dark brown, eyes hidden by ruby red glasses. He was very attractive if we gotta be true, face like a painting. His tongue came out to lick his lips, waiting for you to answer. “Uh, yeah. What about him?” You snapped out of your trance . “I think he’s wrong in this situation. My client has the right to say that she didn’t murder them. But- ah. Sorry, you must’ve just gotten your lunch?” He asked. ‘How did he know?’ Eh, anyways. “Y-yeah. But it’s fine. Why do you think so, you sure?” You question. He told you that his business partner was going to give the best defence in court history, making you laugh. “Hey uhh, I know this makes no sense, but do you mind if you went on a dinner with me? J-just to change your mind of course.”he asked.

You questioned a bit but accepted, settling down to the same night.

It was 6pm, an hour away from your dinner with Matt Murdock, but you were nervous. Never choosing between a black dress that hugged your thighs and brang you luck or a dark red dress with a leg slip. You pondered for a while and put on the red dress, make up already done. ‘Why am I even doing this.He’s blind’ you asked yourself. But you felt good, confident, sexy , even. He made you feel that way.

You took your bag and shouted to Melanie in the bathroom “MELLS, You are gonna be gone till midnight, kay?” . You wanted the two of you to be alone if he actually came. Just in case. You heard her murmur something under the sound of loud music and took it as a “yess” or an “okayyugh “ .

Contently, you walked out with your small bag, wearing scandal black heels. ‘Tower wouldn’t be very happy to see me like this. Well, good that I’m going over to some unknown jazz house I guess.’ You thought as you got in the cab you called, almost singing the address he gave you.

As you walked up to the door he opened it for you. He looked magnificent, suit tidy and glasses that matched your dress. “Hi.” He said, grinning. “Hi hello” you said, voice drowning in the loud chello.

“Our table is somewhere over there. Apparently.” He stated , you giggling at his words.

The dinner went better than you thought, everything sweet and smooth . He gave you a couple reasons that his client didn’t commit the murder and you replied with a “I’ll think about changing my opinion, Murdock.” You guys talked about your work, craziest cases and where you went to university. And soon enough you guys were full of fries and enjoying the light music that twirled around the room, making the whole situation more romantic than it should’ve been. You agreed with him on some points and yes, there were some holes in Tower’s words but you still didn’t believe him.

“You know, it’s getting pretty late, we have a case to worry about tomorrow so uhh…” you hoped he would offer to escort you home. And maybe, just maybe he could read your mind in braille because that’s exactly what he asked to do.

You were chatting in the taxi, up until your apartment’s door and- god, his lips looked so kissable, soft and red. So beautiful, his whole figure was beautiful, broad shoulders and biceps that were hugged just right by his shirt.

Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned a little closer to you, magnified by each other. And in one moment of heavy breathing and a little luck, his hand caressed your face, pulled you in. The kiss was passionate, all teeth and tongue. You had thought about the attorney since you met him a few cases ago but never thought it would end like this. As he deepens the kiss, you let your hands wander through his hair , he pushed your apartment door open. His hands on your waist, neck, in your hair. He was everywhere, his cologne, the faint smell of Oakwood, warm coffee and light alcohol. As he walks you two through your apartment,you pull your legs against his waist and hold his neck for support, and as he gets your hint, his hands snake up to hold you at your thighs. Strangely enough, he found his way around your apartment better than you, especially for a blind. drunk. man that has never been at your place before. But you didn’t really care at that moment because his mouth on yours was the only thing you could think about and the way that his smell intoxicated you.

As he put you down on your couch, he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. And you? You were enjoying the sight of Matt Murdock and those rolled up sleeves. “I really would like to finish off this fine evening with maybe pleasing you?” his words sent a pleasing shiver down your spine “Of course, only if you’d like. I can leave anytime, just-” you stopped his babbling with another kiss, drawing him in by his tie. And that seemed to finish him off, because as he growled into the kiss, pushing your legs apart, the leg slip of your dress pulling up between your legs. “I’ll take that as a yes, then” he smiled through the kiss, pulling you to the edge of the couch. He pulled your dress up and took a breath, your natural smell invading him. And he fucking loved it. Pointing his attention to your now soaked panties, he licked his lips, his senses tasting you in the air. He moaned groaned at your smell, pushing your legs further apart and breathing you in.

Then he pushed your underwear out of the way and devoured the absolute shit out of you.

And as he did so, you let out the most obsene noises, little whimpers and whines, then desperate moans. He licked a long stripe up from your core to your now throbbing clit, relishing in the fact that you were oh so wet for him,tasting you and diving in you like a mad man. But you could tell he was also enjoying this, by the groans he let out, that made you thighs shake. You tried to suppress your noises, but he was having none of that. Painfully, he withdrew his head away from you cunt, looking in your general direction, grabbing your chin. “Try to be quiet again and see what happens.” Your bottom lip quivering, you made a mental note to be as vocal as possible. He lowered his face and delved into you again. Devouring you like a man starved, adding his god shaped- hands to the mix. One palm gripping your thigh, at the little crease right before your ass, other one snaking to you cunt. Relishing in the hot feel of his tongue on you, not expecting those two cold fingers prodding at your core. Silent laughs at the little gasps you dropped as his fingers entered you. You looked down at him, feeling him knuckle deep, snug in your tight pussy. His mouth closed around your clit and he started sucking. And there you were, sitting there, thinking ‘this is it. i died and i’m in heaven.’ until he started moving with his fingers. Stretching them, scissoring you made your brain clear out of everything, thick fingers curling to find your g-spot and abuse it. He was mumbling something unintelligible, the vibrations giving you that delicious friction .Feeling a tight knot grip your stomach, you tried to warn Matt , but all that you could mutter between moans was a weak “M-Mattyy… ‘mma..” before you were coming undone around his fingers. Letting you ride through your orgasm, he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you, slowing down the pace.

Murmuring praises, he kisses your clit, earning a jolt from your thighs and a mear whimper. Biting his way up your body, wasting time at your breasts, licking up the valley between them, until he was face to face with you, dark brown eyes unfocused and warm, the slight shimmer on his lips from your essence made you delve in. Kissing him, you tasted yourself on his tongue, salty and draft. Trying to get his belt off, you struggled, earning a chuckle from Matt. As he made quick work of sliding it through his hands and throwing it on the floor, pants following through. He towers over you, immediately making you feel small, causing blood to rush to your cheeks. He smirks, cradling your face in his hand. “Don’t get shy on me sweetheart, we’re jus’ getting started.” Pupils dilating, you look at his very obvious dick print, trying to figure out exactly how big he is. Almost answering your question, he takes the slacks off too, his impressive size slapping against his stomach. You feel your mouth salivating, but before you could get to your knees, he grabs your thighs, moving you to sit on top of his lap, crossing your hands to the couch behind his neck, trapping you in and suddenly all you can see, sense, feel was him, him, him.

He slowly slides your folds open with his tip, a wet squelch being heard. You whine, eliciting an amused sound and an “Eager, aren’t you, pretty thing?”, causing a moan to escape from within your throat. He slides in, the stretch burning slightly, making you let out a strangled sound. He stiffens, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you still. “Are you okay?” the words fade in front of your ears, the haze his dick put you in keeping you in your own Matt-Murdock-s-cock bubble. “Yeah… please. Please, Matt.” you let out a meak attempt to keep the moans in as he pushes in to the hilt, staying as still as he can. Once you feel stretched enough, you clench, once, hearing the groan (™️) that erupts from deeply in his chest. “Don’t tease me like that, fuuuuck…” Matthew grips at your ass, slowly moving you up and down, finding a rhythm the both of you could keep up. As soon as you feel confident enough, you push your sweaty face from his chest, where it had been lying till then. Gripping the headrest for dear life, you start slowly riding him, adjusting to his girth. Slowly letting your jaw fall, you can no longer contain the groans and whines of the lawyer’s name. A deep growl grows from his chest, the vibrations making you mewl on your own.

“Ma-atthew! I-” you attempt, but after hearing his searing “shh, I know sweetheart. J-just relax f’me.”, you let it come to you, drenching his cock in your juices, letting your head fall to his neck. You can feel him clenching his jaw, veins on his neck visible, as he painfully pulls out of you, releasing his load on his stomach. You stand there for a little while, letting each other catch their breath. You close your eyes for a little bit, letting yourself relax in his sticky, sweaty, but warming touch. Not later after that, you’re both cleaned up and in bed, cuddling. You don’t exactly know what that makes you two, but you don’t wish to worry about it right now. Not now. Not when his warm forearms are wrapped tightly around your stomach, leg draped over yours, securing you, in a way.

Some time in the night you’re woken up by a very low-toned Matt, saying something. "Your roomate just came home...drunk." Murmuring a curse, you cuddle deeper in his embrace, catching the warm chuckle that spreads through his chest and envades yours.

In the morning, you're waken up by an alarm, but it's not yours. Hearing a familiar groans, your eyes prickle with the sun beaming on you,and you crinkle a smile, seeing a very disheveled Matt Murdock trying to find his phone in the bundle of clothes you left from last night. Your door is bright open and Mellany springs through it, bringing both of you coffee, and with a bright smile on her face (and a wiggle of her eyebrows) gives you back the other golden hoop earring. You stand up, going to get your clothes, enjoying the silent morning, nothing too loud, which is weird, by the fact that the crappy apartment that you rented is in the heart of the real Hell's Kitchen.

"So... are we going to repeat this sometime?" you hear him, loud and clear. "We'll see how it goes, Murdock. But for now, we have a case to finish."

taglist : @moxkindagirl

#matt murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #daredevil smut #i finally finished this #cue the addams family intro that im watching rn #alr #imma go back into my writer hibernation for the next 2 weeks and then flash out a 2 hour written smut #again with matt #I HAVE AN IDEA OKAY #I HAVE A VISION

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