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moonsgemini · 9 months

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dress - ii

summary: rafe is finally able to show his girl just how much she means to him.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smutty smut, oral (f+m), p in v, smidge of dirty talk, praise kink, rafe, teasing, creampie (hate that), choking (nothing crazy), fluff, fem reader

wc: 3.7k

an: this can be read as a stand alone tbh, also this is my first time writing smut in a while so if it sucks girl I apologize lol I was really losing it towards the end but I pulled through. I TRIED MY BEST PLS

part one

The sunlight seeping through the sheer curtains had gently woken Rafe up. He had been dreaming about her and he wished he could go back to sleep. When he rolled over with his eyes still closed he realized there was someone next to him. He opened his eyes with furrowed brows, his confusion fading once he saw her messy hair sprawled against the pillows. The events of the night before coming back to him.

He smiled to himself feeling content. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. In her sleep she lightly groaned and pushed up against him. Subconsciously trying to get closer. Rafe could get used to this. The smell of her shampoo filling his senses, the warmth of the sun coming through her window. He didn’t even want to sleep anymore he wanted to be awake to enjoy this moment.

What if she woke up and remembered who he was or his reputation and decided she never wanted to see him again. Maybe the kiss last night was a tipsy mistake.

The girl in his arms began to stir awake breaking him from his thoughts. She hummed as she turned to lie on her back, stretching like a cat before turning to face him. Rafe could have died a happy man then and there as he looked at her sleepy eyes and the lazy smile that formed on her lips when she saw him.

“Morning,” she mumbled, almost shy.

He smiled, “Morning.”

He reached forward and brushed her hair out of her face, he wanted to see all of her. A comfortable silence fell over them as they both just observed each other. She couldn’t believe she had this greek god in her bed. Her friends were going to kill her but she didn’t care.

“So what’s for breakfast?” She asked innocently, hinting that she didn’t want the day with him to end yet.

Rafe pretended to think, “hmmm I can think of few things that sound good,” he smirked.

“Oh yeah like what?” She definitely didn’t get his innuendo.

He moved quickly to hover over her, he used his knee to nudge her legs open so he could rest between them. His arms on either side of her head supporting himself up. The closeness made her face get hot. She was suddenly aware that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and he only had boxers on. She was in some tiny shorts and a tank top. She was grateful she didn’t wake up with a boob hanging out.

“I believe I owe you an act of appreciation,” He smirked and placed a soft kiss against her cheek. She closed her eyes and swallowed thickly, he was going to be the death of her.

“What does that have to do with breakfast?” She asked in a breathy whisper. She felt like if she talked too loud she would ruin the moment.

He placed a kiss on her other cheek, her forehead, and then her chin, “Well I see a very sweet meal in front of me. I’ve been dying to get a taste,” he placed on last kiss on her neck. This one lasting a little longer.

Her eyes fluttered closed savoring the contact, “You’re so cheesy,” She laughed softly.

“You turn me into a romantic,” He smiled genuinely and she reciprocated it.

Rafe leaned down to finally place a kiss on her lips. It was just as good as the night before, the kiss feeling like electricity. He sighed like he was finally breathing fresh air. The kiss started out soft and gentle but quickly turned into something more passionate. Like he wanted to make up for all the time they haven’t been doing this. Her hands found purchase in his hair. Tugging at the short strands when his tongue began poking into her mouth.

She had been dying to know what he tasted like and after finding out last night that he was even better than she imagined, she was addicted. She didn’t even care if she had morning breath because it didn’t seem like Rafe cared. One of his hands moved down to her waist. Rubbing up and down, his thumb catching onto her tank top and tugging it slightly. Her skin felt like it was on fire as he touched her. She moved one of her legs to wrap around his hips to tug him closer to her. Rafe hummed in satisfaction.

His hand moving to her hips and legs, touching as much skin as he could. He’d been dreaming of this for so long he wanted to savor it. Take advantage of having her here and feel as much of her as he could. He moved his lips back down to her neck needed to catch his breath.

She let out a small moan as he kissed that spot below her ear. It was like he knew exactly what to do. His kisses started moving lower. He sat up on bis knees and placed his hands on either side of her shirt. Looking at her to ask for permission, he didn’t want to mess this up. He wanted to be perfect for her. She nodded her head quickly, wanting to be naked already.

Rafe tugged her shirt off and lost his breath. He could have cum then and there. She was better than his dreams. She started getting timid as he kept staring at her. She’s slept with people before but it was never like this, no one ever actually looked at her.

He leaned forward and pressed teasing kisses on her stomach working his way up her torso. He cupped her breast in his large hand, his thumb moving back and forth over her nipple gently. He kissed in between her breasts before moving his mouth to the one that wasn’t getting attention. He kissed around it before he wrapped his lips around her nipple, his tongue moving back and forth languidly. He’d switch from licking to gently sucking. She was in heaven, feeling an immense amount of pleasure over something so simple.

“Fuck,” She muttered softly. Arching her back on the mattress to somehow get closer to him.

“You’re amazing,” He muttered as his mouth traveled back up her body. Reaching her lips once again he kissed her with meaning.

Rafe’s hand moved down to her shorts. His fingers skimmed over the top of them, fingers slipping teasingly under the band. He moved to sit back on his knees, he looked at her and groaned at the sight. Her pretty lips were swollen and her chest was moving up and down at a faster pace. Her hair messy around her. He wished he could take a picture but he knows he’ll never forget how she looks in this moment.

He began to rub her thighs before grabbing her shins and pushing her legs up so her knees were bent. He looked at her core seeing how the fabric pulled tightly against her heat. He could tell she wasn’t wearing underwear and he just couldn’t believe he was getting to have his way with her.

She had been struggling below him. Wanting him to do anything, she felt her pussy ache as he just watched her with a dazed expression. She could feel how wet she was already, she had began clenching around nothing. Just the thought of Rafe was enough to turn her on.

She sighed weakly speaking up, “Rafe please do something.”

He looked up at her and smirked, “Patience baby. Good girls are patient.” He rubbed his hands all around the expanse of her thighs. When he’d rub her inner thighs he’d purposely rub his fingers against her clit pretending it was an accident. His hands felt like heaven on her, she was so turned on any contact from him was sending her over the edge.

After what felt like hours he splayed his hand across her groin and his thumb hovered over her center. He teasingly rubbed light circles over the fabric. He could see a small wet patch in the middle of her shorts. It was feeding his ego to know she was this attracted to him. He felt like he didn’t deserve her, she was a goddess in his eyes. Everything about her was so perfect to him, even the way her body reacted to him was perfect.

“Fuck I can’t believe it’s taken us this long,” He pressed his thumb down harder making slow circles.

“I’ve wanted you for so long baby. Have wanted to make you feel good for so long,” His words and the movement of his hands caused jolts of pleasure to go through her body. She felt like she was on cloud nine.

“Oh Rafe I’ve needed you for so long,” She sighed opening her eyes to find him already looking at her. He had been watching her reactions enjoying how good he was making her feel.

She let out a small wine when he pulled his hand away but then he swiftly moved one of her legs to the other side and pulled off her shorts. He put her leg back to where it was so he was in between them again. He positioned her back to how she was with her feet flat on the bed. He licked his lips, saliva pooling in his mouth as he gaped at her glistening pussy. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

“Baby you’re so gorgeous,” He mumbled as he moved lower on the bed to lay on his stomach. His face now level with her hips. He kissed the inside of her thighs beginning from the top of the knee to where her legs met her groin. He did this on each side wanting to savor her.

She felt like she was being worshipped with the way he kissed her and touched her. Like he thought she was better than him and needed to be indulged and savored. Rafe used two fingers to run through his slit, his fingers getting coated in her arousal as he rubbed between her folds. The squelching sound turning him on even more if it was possible. Rafe felt drunk off of her.

He almost missed the pretty sounds that were leaving her mouth because he was so concentrated on the area that needed him most. She moaned and whined at the feeling of his fingers running over her. Her hands were gripping his hair. He pulled away and wrapped each of his hands around each of her thighs to spread her even wider.

Rafe leaned his head against her inner thigh as he went back to rub her clit in that way that made her eyes roll back. He would do that then move his fingers down to run through her folds to gather her wetness. He teasingly pushed the tips of his fingers into her. She let out a louder moan at this. He couldn’t wait to be inside of her. But he also wanted to tease her for as long as possible.

“You like that?” He asked not looking up at her too concentrated on rubbing circles on her clit. His other hand, that wrapped around the leg he was leaning on, reached up to cup her breast. The feeling of his fingers tweaking her nipple lightly was sending her closer to the edge.

“You’re so wet for me, you’re such a good girl.” He said turning to kiss her thigh lightly. He moved his fingers down her slippy folds teasingly until he got to her entrance again.

“Always wanna be good for you Rafe,” She whined trying to lift hips up to his fingers. If he would just put them inside of her already she’d come in two seconds.

He smiled as he slowly pushed two fingers into her, “You are good my love, the best.” He murmured as he watched some of her arousal drip down his fingers as he pushed farther in.

She was tight and warm, his dick aching in his boxers to be inside of her. But he could wait. He moved his fingers in and out slowly. His fingers curving up getting that spot that made her back arch and moans fall unabashedly from her lips. She could never reach it herself and no other partner had tried. But Rafe’s long fingers were perfect, he knew her body already.

He started to pick up the pace as her moans got louder. He could feel her walls squeezing him and that wet sounds of his movements never stopping. He lifted his head from his position and leaned forward wrapping his lips around her clit. He continued with his fingers as well.

She moaned loudly, “Oh shit I’m about to cum babe.” Her eyes were closed not being able to keep them open because of the pleasure. That fire in her stomach suddenly exploded and a tingling feeling over took her whole body. Her back arched off the bed, her legs squeezing around Rafe’s head as he relentlessly sucked and licked.

He started to slow down once she had come down from her high. He slowly removed his fingers but continued to clean her with his mouth. Not wanting to miss a single drop. After he lifted himself up to be on top of her again.

“Open,” Rafe said as he hovered over her.

Eager to obey she opened her mouth and he placed the two fingers that were inside of her on her tongue. She closed her mouth and moaned at the taste of herself on his fingers. She closed her eyes and sucked on his fingers licking him clean.

“Good girl,” He leaned down and kissed her. Her hips lifted up as she felt the tip of his dick in his boxers rub against her core. She needed him but she also wanted to make him feel good.

She pulled away and pushed his chest, “Lay down please,” she said softly knowing she would get her way with how she was looking at him. With big innocent eyes, ones he couldn’t say no to. He got off of her and laid next to her. She followed him and got on top.

y/n sat directly on his dick. His hard length pressed against her dripping core. She moaned closing her eyes leaning her head back. The feeling of him against her core was sending her over the edge. Any touch from him was making her feel like she was on fire. She leaned down to kiss him. Her hips slowing moving to grind against him, the friction causing a satisfied moan to break their kiss.

“I need to be inside of you,” Rafe said roughly, his hands gripping her hips. He pressed her down harder against him wanting more.

She kissed his chin then pressed a few kisses across his neck. Rafe closed his eyes and savored her gentleness. She continued to kiss down his chest as she moved lower. Her hands following as well as they felt the expanse of his muscular chest and torso.

She tugged at his boxers, “But I want to take care of you first,” She had a mischievous look in her eye. One that made Rafe swallow roughly.

“oh sweet girl,” He sighed, “You’re too good to me. Gonna wrap your pretty mouth around my cock?” He reached down and cupped her her face. His thumb stroking back and forth before it started tugging on her bottom lip. Y/n leaned forward with an open mouth taking and sucking on his thumb. Her tongue swirled back and forth and Rafe could have came just with that.

He knows he won’t last long if he lets her go down on him but he can’t find any words to say. Especially not when her ass is in the air as she hovers over him. Her big eyes staring up at him eager to please, how was he supposed to not let her do this?

She took his silence as a good sign and continued tugging his boxers off. His length came out slapping against his stomach. Her mouth watered at the sight, she had never wanted to please someone so badly.

She licked a stripe on the underside of his cock. Rafe let out a sigh, it felt like torture in the best way. She spit in her hand before wrapping it around him, her hand moving up and down as she got it wet. She leaned forward and took the tip into her mouth, teasing him by sucking and licking softly.

His hips moved up trying to get her to take more of him. She was killing him, he had never felt this good. She took more of him and her mouth. Threw her teasing out the window and bobbed her head up and down taking him in her mouth. Rafe groaned at the feeling of her wet warm mouth. His hands reached down to wrap around her hair and hold a makeshift pony tail. Rafe felt immediately close once he saw her swollen lips around him with drool dripping down her chin. Her eyes watering from taking him deep.

He pushed her away abruptly trying to catch his breath, “I’m literally going to cum if you don’t stop that, and I have a lot I still want to do to you.” He smirked standing up on knees and going behind her.

Rafe pushed her gently forward. Y/n went up the bed and bent over. Her ass in the air with her core on full display for him. He could see that she was still wet as her folds glistened, his ego inflated at the thought of her getting wet from giving him head. He leaned forward and wrapped his lips around her clit. He sucked gently before licked a few stripes across all of her.

He pulled away and slapped her ass. She moaned softly at the feeling shaking her hips and pushing herself towards him. Rafe grabbed his length and gave himself a few pumps before lining himself up with her entrance. He pushed forward slowing getting inside of her. They both moaned at the different feelings of pleasure. He was stretching her so good she couldn’t help but roll her eyes back.

He rubbed his hands all over her ass as he continued to push inside of her at a slow pace, “You’re so tight baby. So wet too fuck,” Now fully inside of her he leaned his head back at the feeling, “I’ve been obsessed with you since we met.”

He began to move his hips back and forth slowly, “Rafey you feel so good inside,” She moaned. He began to pick up the pace wanting her to be louder for him. He was hitting every spot she needed.

The room was being filled with the sounds of their moans and their skin slapping. Rafe had been waiting for so long for this and it was even better than he imagined. He couldn’t wait to give her what she deserves outside of the bedroom. He wanted to buy her everything she needed, would even get her a new house if she asked. He couldn’t wait to please her in every way.

Reaching forward he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up so her back was against his chest. The new angle he was fucking her at felt incredible. She leaned her head back laying on his shoulder, he brought his hand around her placing it over her neck.

Rafe was in heaven, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world by being able to have her like this. His other hand reached down her stomach until his fingers were over her clit. He gathered some of her arousal and began moving his fingers in circles. An unbelievable amount of please ran through her body. She started to feel that familiar knot in her stomach start to get tighter and tighter.

“Rafe I’m g-gonna cum,” She was able to mumble out through moans. Her mind was a mess and her vision was hazy. All she could think about and focus on was Rafe. Her body fell forward so her lower half was back on the bed.

“Cum for me baby,” He said gruffly into her ear doing his best not to cum yet. She let out a loud moan telling him she was cumming. Her face was buried into the mattress muffling her cries. He felt her walls tighten around him and he groaned, leaning his head back at the feeling. He slowed his pace as she finished.

Rafe fully pulled out and gently moved her to lay on her back. He wasted no more time and pushed into her once again. She let out a gasp at the feeling of him. Rafe began to thrust in and out of her. The wet sounds from her arousal getting him even closer. Rafe groaned at the sight of her, he leaned forward and captured her lips in his.

Their tongues danced against each other. Her hands running through his hair and scratching at his back when he’d hit that particular spot inside her. She arched her back, their faces still close together. She really liked Rafe and she really hoped this would be a one time thing.

“Ah shit where do you want me to cum?” He asked as he felt himself close to finishing.

“Inside, fuck I’m gonna cum,” She whined as she felt her whole body go tingly. Her whole body on fire. She couldn’t lie that if her head wasn’t so dizzy she’d say somewhere else but she needed him in every way. And she was on birth control.

“Fuck,” Rafe’s pace picked up as he came inside of her. After finishing he slowed down, breathing heavily. He pulled out gently and laid next to her.

y/n turned to lay her head on his chest. His heart was pounding, hearing it made a small smirk appear on her lips. They didn’t speak for a couple of minutes just enjoying the silence and being close to each other.

“I really like you if I haven’t made that clear enough,” Rafe said breaking the silence.

She laughed, “I really like you Rafe. I have for a while.”

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to do something,“ He ran his fingers through her hair.

She turned to look up at him, “We’re together now.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her, “Will you let me take you out somewhere nice tonight?”

“Yes of course,” She kissed one more time barely being able to because she couldn’t stop smiling.

tags: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @kw13cheer @weareatthebadlands (if I missed you I apologize!!)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe imagine

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kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

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Young recruit!König is so silly :33

He gets jealous over everything you touch. You’re supposed to be with him!! Your feet should NOT touch the ground! Sit on his back, or hang onto him like a koala while he fucks you deeply. Loves watching your boobs bounce in his face, teeth grabbing onto a nipple and dick twitching at your tiny squeal.

“Bet he can’t do this” he says as he spins you around like it’s a circus performance, before plopping you down on his dick again, the squeal now turning into a shriek.

Hisses at the cat he stole for you ^_^ and fights for your attention. He cockwarms you while u both sleep and he wakes up from his cool ass dream (it was you two living in a beautiful house, happily married. Not that he’ll ever admit that) because the damn rabid orange thing bit his toe.

He’d be in the hospital, a broken arm and leg from his latest mission, and he’ll beg you to come closer. Literally almost tears up (it’s fake), and you stand up from your chair and walk up next to his hospital bed. Haha! :D You fell for the trick! He’s so happy you wore a skirt, now he can finger u aaaall he wants! (He’ll demand you to sit on his dick after a while but you refuse, already embarrassed as hell.)

He is NEVER allowed near coffee. He would become an atomic bomb with all that extra energy added to his chaotic personality. When he’s petty though he’ll take a big gulp of your afternoon coffee, ending in him fucking you the whole night. He can’t help it!! He needs to let his energy out, and who else is better for the job than you? 🫶

Anon this is so crazy & cute AHHHH. I love every single word 😭❤️!

Young recruit is in serious need of some behavioral therapy and would profit from a few electric shocks, but sadly he has better things to do (such as chase and bully you!)

Flexes on his strength and muscles every chance he gets, walks around with no shirt on, sometimes even without his pants on because he loves to see that shocked look on your face. You always gasp like a virgin who’s never even seen a cock when he walks into the kitchen with nothing on, it’s too adorable ❤️

Grins when you rush to draw the curtains together so that neighbors won’t see his half-hard dick – König has some serious exhibitionistic tendencies, gladly it’s just to get your attention, but he could be a little more discreet with that schlong… You can manage without sexual harassment lawsuits crowding your mailbox, thank you very much!

And the need to show off doesn’t end there: König has to fuck you on every surface of you and the Colonel’s house. An attempt to claim you and this place as his own, mark you both with his scent or something – or then to destroy the Colonel’s precious antique mahogany furniture, who knows.

Trying to trick him to participate in NNN ends in a horrible mess because he all but wrecks the nearest gym’s equipment while attempting to survive a week without warming his cock inside you. Refuses to sleep on the couch to prevent himself from getting life-threatening boners around you, and so it all ends with König waking you up one night with the messiest hard on you’ve ever felt or seen. Has the audacity to say that it’s your fault he’s in this state, and it’s your job to do something about this dick before he goes nuts. (“Nuts”, heh…! Isn’t he funny?)

And the cat he got you quickly takes a liking to you, he didn’t expect it to steal so much of your attention :( The tabby gets sunshine smiles and enthusiastic babbles by simply jumping into your lap and curling there. You look down at it with unbridled joy as it starts to purr and paw at you, sometimes you squeeze it against you and kiss its nose.

He can’t believe he’s jealous of a fluffy murderous kitten, who, on top of everything, bears his name because it "reminds you of him". Reminds you of him, this crazy killing machine who steals socks and bites toes at night?? Who hauls you dead rodents and follows you around everywhere you go, even to the bathroom? Pfft…

#double trouble au #my beloved #könig x reader #könig x you #2 Königs 1 reader

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princessbrunette · 22 days

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playlists for the readers … ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ³ ᵔ ꒱ྀིა

bunny!reader ♡

just girly fun vibes — she likes her music catchy, pop-y and fairly relatable. rafe never lets her play her music in the car unfortunately, because he cannot be seen speeding down the road blasting the pussy cat dolls.

🎀 cassie — ditto

🎀 kali uchis, steve lacy, vince staples — only girl

🎀 frank ocean — sweet life

🎀 coco & clair — pretty

🎀 sabrina carpenter — feather

🎀 flo milli — never lose me

🎀 cassie — miss your touch

🎀 childish gambino, jhené aiko — pink toes

🎀 flo.rida, wynter — sugar

🎀 kali uchis — honey baby (SPOILED!)

🎀 angels — my boyfriends back

🎀 foxy brown, kelis — candy

🎀 lana del rey — music to watch boys to

🎀 jhené aiko — maniac

🎀 fergie — clumsy

🎀 ciara, 50 cent — can’t leave ‘em alone

🎀 shelley duvall — he needs me

🎀 nancy sinatra — sugar town

🎀 heidi montag — i’ll do it

🎀 nicki minaj, jeremiah — favourite

🎀 kali uchis — melting

🎀 lady gaga — boys boys boys

🎀 cassie — long way 2 go

🎀 the pussycat dolls — when i grow up

🎀 tom tom club — genius of love

🎀 beyoncé — freakum dress

🎀 gwen stefani — bubble pop electric

🎀 marina — primadonna girl

🎀 madonna — material girl

🎀 pussy cat dolls — stickwitu

🎀 leven kali, syd — do u wrong

🎀 kiana ledé — mad at me

kitty!reader ♡

listens to her music to feel cool n edgy. shes one of those people that think she’s a bitch but she’s not at all, just a lil grumpy. wants everyone to know she liked deftones before it was cool.

🐈‍⬛ pixies — is she weird

🐈‍⬛ arctic monkeys — mardy bum

🐈‍⬛ black box recorder — child psychology

🐈‍⬛ the smiths — pretty girls make graves

🐈‍⬛ ethel cain — crush

🐈‍⬛ mazzy star — she’s my baby

🐈‍⬛ radiohead — creep

🐈‍⬛ chris isaak — wicked game

🐈‍⬛ limp bizkit — rollin’

🐈‍⬛ the pretty reckless — makes me wanna die

🐈‍⬛ pearly drops — bloom for me

🐈‍⬛ deftones — root

🐈‍⬛ fka twigs — two weeks

🐈‍⬛ deftones — romantic dreams

🐈‍⬛ hole — doll parts

🐈‍⬛ margeaux — hot faced

🐈‍⬛ siouxsie and the banshees — she’s a carnival

🐈‍⬛ kip tyler — she’s my witch

🐈‍⬛ deftones — mascara

🐈‍⬛ soho dolls — bang bang bang bang

🐈‍⬛ enigma — sadeness

🐈‍⬛ DANGERDOOM, MF DOOM — perfect hair

🐈‍⬛ radiohead — idioteque

🐈‍⬛ björk — come to me

🐈‍⬛ the nbhd — fallen star

🐈‍⬛ arctic monkeys — crying lightening

🐈‍⬛ deftones — diamond eyes

🐈‍⬛ the smiths — girl afraid

🐈‍⬛ ethel cain — unpunishable

🐈‍⬛ mitski — townie

🐈‍⬛ gorillaz — kids with guns

🐈‍⬛ evanescence — taking over me

deer!reader ♡

she’d say her playlists are all over the place — but it’s organised mess. she has them perfectly collated and in her head they make perfect sense. don’t put her on the aux though, not because the songs aren’t good but because the vibes are all over the place.

🍪 shura — 2shy

🍪 minnie riperton — les fleurs

🍪 april march — chick habit

🍪 benee — kool

🍪 camille saint- saëns — … le cygne

🍪 the little dippers — forever

🍪 allie x, mitski — susie save your love

🍪 she & him — why do you let me stay here?

🍪 lesley gore — i’m coolin’ no foolin’

🍪 sza — prom

🍪 the penguins — earth angel

🍪 SALES — renee

🍪 cleo sol — sunshine

🍪 japanese breakfast — be sweet

🍪 kate bush — cloud busting

🍪 mazzy star — halah

🍪 the mamas & papas — dedicated to the one i love

🍪 scissors sisters — filthy / gorgeous

🍪 fiona apples — shameika

🍪 fleetwood mac — mystified

🍪 margo guryan — under my umbrella

🍪 erykah badu — apple tree

🍪 mort garson — plantasia

🍪 sza — sweet november

🍪 quadron — sea salt

🍪 corinne bailey rae — green aphrodisiac

🍪 sade — lovers rock

🍪 ella fitzgerald — moonlight serenade

🍪 cigarettes after sex — truly

🍪 tv girl — heaven is a bedroom

🍪 the velvet underground — femme fetale

🍪 clairo, coco & clair — racecar

🍪 james blake, rosalía — barefoot in the park

🍪 tame impala — nangs

puppy!reader ♡

never seen without her walkman — loves running around and dancing to her upbeat music. her playlists will remind you of days in the sun and dancing in summer rain.

🐶 her’s — love on the line (call now)

🐶 HAIM — summer girl

🐶 the la’s — there she goes

🐶 stacey q — two of hearts

🐶 faye webster — right side of my neck

🐶 bakar, summer walker — hell n back

🐶 beabadoobee — sunny day

🐶 dominic fike — babydoll

🐶 jungle — back on 74

🐶 pinkpanthress — attracted to you

🐶 duran duran — girls on film

🐶 shuggie otis — strawberry letter 23

🐶 sixpence none the richer — kiss me

🐶 matilda mann — bloom

🐶 HAIM — falling

🐶 311 — amber

🐶 earth, wind & fire — boogie wonderland

🐶 lorde — ribs

🐶 lesley gore — sunshine lollipops and rainbows

🐶 stevie wonder — all i do

🐶 the human league — don’t you want me

🐶 the turtles — happy together

🐶 pet shop boys — west end girls

🐶 clairo — bags

🐶 pat benetar — love is a battlefield

🐶 the psychedelic furs — love my way

🐶 scouting for girls — she’s so lovely

🐶 noisettes — wild young hearts

🐶 the all eyes i — beat goes on

🐶 tame impala — elephant

🐶 sublime — waiting for my ruca

🐶 mgmt — boogie down

#bunny!reader #kitty!reader #deer!reader #puppy!reader

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iliketangerines · 1 month

Note

Can I ask for Dark Raiden with an IT specialist reader,who is just like a soft,kind mortal compare to Dark Raiden.Like a scary wolf/innocent cat dynamic.Have a good day!

docile as a lamb

a/n: love me a good dark raiden, and i tried dark raiden but i don't think it got across very well lol. thank you all for 300 followers! this is truly a momentous occasion for me. i also have no idea what IT specialists do, so you're gonna have to bear with me here.

pairing: dark!lord raiden x gn!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), wet dreams of blow jobs, thigh fucking, nipple play, electrostim, size kink

Raiden had to see you when he accidentally fried the tablet after gripping onto it too tightly and sending red shocks of lightning through the device

you had taken the tablet from his hands and quickly replaced the tablet while explaining something about the properties of electricity

but all Raiden can focus on is the soft curve of your lips as you explain to him softly and gently to just handle the device with a bit more care

you smile sweetly up at him, and he’s reminded why he fights for Earthrealm

since then, Raiden sees you everywhere, in the dining hall, in the meeting rooms, in the training fields, and you’re always there

you laugh alongside your friends in the dining hall, sweet laughter making Raiden’s mind swim

you tinker with the devices in the meeting rooms, making sure everything is set up properly, and you look determined and beautiful while setting up the deices

in the training field, you’re off to the side and cheering on Sonya as she spars with the others and makes sure that they’re up to standard

you bring sweet treats out of your own paycheck, and one time you have even given Raiden a donut for him, telling him that he should try it

he wasn’t one for sugary treats, he wanted something else sweet, but he eats the donut and finds pleasure in it because you had given it to him

sometimes, he finds you in the med bay with the initiates when you have an off day, and you talk to a specific soldier in the med bay who’s been stuck in a coma for a few years

his feelings grow within him, and he knows you would be just so sweet and compliant underneath his fingertips

but he cannot have you, you’re too sweet, too innocent for him, and so he travels to the other worlds and destroys his enemies viscerally, releasing his frustrations on them and burning them into husks of themselves

he wants to hold you in his arms and kiss you, wants to massage your plush thighs underneath his fingers and listen to you squeak as he shocks you with electricity

he befriends you, and he follows you around the base when he doesn’t have anything better to do, trailing behind you and shooting glares at anyone who looks more than two seconds in your direction

he’s a looming shadow as you go through your day, traveling between the different rooms as you fix different tablets, sometimes going to the weapons room and trying to figure out what’s wrong with the programming

one day, you had dressed in something a little tighter, something that accentuated your thighs and your hips

Raiden had wanted to clamp his hands on every soldier who dared to look at you with nothing but lust and send his lightning through them until they burned from the inside out

but, he too, couldn't contain his lustful thoughts, and later that night he imagined fucking into your plush thighs

he thinks your hips would fit perfectly in his hands, and that bruises the shape of his fingerprints would decorate you so prettily

he wants to tear your clothes off and lavish your skin with kisses

he wants to suck hickeys into your neck to show everyone else that you’re his, and he wants to hear your little moans and whimpers of pleasure

he thinks that your chest would be plush underneath his hand, and he can imagine the taste of your skin in his mouth as he sucks and flicks your nipple with his tongue

Raiden groans as he imagines the sight of his cock buried deep inside of you, a slight bulge in your stomach as he fucks into you

you would sound so sweet and pretty begging for him to fuck you faster, that he’s too big and that you can’t take it, and Raiden would make sure that you take all of him

tears would be streaming down your cheeks as he fucks into you and digs his fingers into your hips and your waist

he wants to tie you up so that you can’t escape him, and you’re forced to take the pleasure that he gives you

he wants to send little shocks through your body and listen to you yelp and beg him to touch you

Raiden bites his lip and cums into his hand as he imagines filling you with his seed and watching it seep down your legs

or maybe he’ll plug you up and make you walk around base with his cum inside of you so that you’re always reminded that you’re his

the next day is a sweltering heat, and you wear nothing but a thin tank top slightly soaked in sweat and some shorts that can barely contain your ass

luckily, you’re in your office all day, typing away on the computer, and Raiden stays with you the entire day

he glares at everyone who walks by your cubicle, and red electricity crackles between his fingers as a warning as you blabber and complain about the bugs in the code

he can only stare as sweat drips down from your neck into the cleavage of your chest

he can see your nipples through the thin tank top, and he wants to bend you over the desk and fuck you

Raiden takes off his hat to rest in his lap to hide the tent in his pants

he has to concentrate on the sound of clicking to try and calm down, and you stand up and stretch, hands reaching out to the ceiling

Raiden nearly drools at the sight of stomach slightly spilling over your shorts as your tank top rides up

you walk over to the dining room, and Raiden trails behind you

you grab a popsicle from the freezer, greeting the chef with a cheerful hello, before heading back to your cubicle

you suck and lick at the sweet treat, lips reddening with the cherry flavoring, and Raiden’s mind spins with the image of you sucking on his cock instead

how pretty you’d be on your knees, how your lips would stretch around his dick, how you would whine and moan as you touch yourself

you ask Raiden what’s wrong, that he’s been silent for too long

Raiden says he must consult the elder gods on something he remembered and stands up out of his chair and summons a flash of red lightning to bring him back to his bedroom

you don’t see him for the rest of the day

he’s too busy imagining you on your knees and worshiping his body

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bonefall · 20 days

Note

instead of asking what parts of wind you’ll be getting rid of, i’ll instead ask what parts you’re keeping. the list is shorter then haha

FROSTPAW AND WHISTLEPAW.

Best part of Wind is the bond between these two, in fact, the entire plot about WindClan felt like it dropped out of the alternate universe where the books are good. The sudden dream of catastrophe, the way StarClan gave Frostpaw this sign on purpose to make them know she's legitimate, Whistlepaw injuring herself to try and save her little sister... Even the little details, like Nightcloud and Hootwhisker trying to drag the tree by the trunk, were neat to see.

I Dont Rewrite Arcs Until They Are Done BUT I do know that I'm going to elevate and expand what's going on with Frost and Whistle. They're fantastic.

Another small thing I'm actually planning on keeping is this exchange between Squilf and Jayfeather, which you'll probably find surprising since I'm so open about how much I dislike the way they've made Squilfstar less proactive;

In a better book, I think this could have been a GREAT moment.

What I dislike about this exchange is that Squilf is able to rebuke it, because the writers DO feel that Bramblestar was a good leader. They're trying to show that Squilfstar is going to act more "mature" (read: boring) with her role now, probably to make a point about how Bramblestar wasn't being "indecisive" for the 10 years we were stuck with him but "responsible." Basically, she gets the power and finds out it isn't so easy-- I'll even bet at some point in the next arc or two she'll become frustrated by someone acting the way she used to.

I've seen some people praising this, and like, it's not illegal to have bad taste. But I think this is an AWFUL thing to do with a character who could have finally caused interesting things to happen, on top of just feeling like contempt of criticism on behalf of the writers.

"Ohhhh they thought she would be more decisive than our beloved baby boy, WELL, WE'LL SHOW THEM. You will sit through 10 paragraphs of debate no matter WHO is in charge!!!"

But like I said....... in a better book, this could have been great. If this was a wake-up call for her.

Suddenly experiencing the full weight of responsibility upon herself, she stops making bold decisions. The complicated political situation in front of her, individual opinions of her Clan around her, and the wounded glares of the furious Brambleclaw below her are all acting like briar vines, pulling her down.

Even StarClan itself seems to have placed a weight on her, cats who she's followed faithfully and been punished by.

So Jayfeather, with all of the changes he has in BB, brawling with angels, speaking defiance to the stars, and pulling spirits down from the heavens, is the perfect cat to be honest with her.

I'm still trying to find a good way to describe the electricity between them in this moment. BB!Jayfeather once reached up his paw through the veil between life and death to grab her ankle and fetch her from her own trial, knowing that she wanted to keep living. He's part of whatever motion she took to remove Bramblestar from power. Her son, her cleric, her ally. How do I put these emotions into words?

"Did you come this far just to become someone else?"

Just... what a moment it could be. For this to be the second that Squilfstar realizes in spite of everything, Bramblestar's thorns still jab at her. That she has to move forward, DAMN the uncertainty, by being herself.

#bone babble #asc spoilers #But a LOT of this book is up in the air for BB #Depending on how big of an overhaul this becomes #I don't have SOLID plans yet to keep it loose #But I'm planning some pretty big changes

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makeitmingi · 3 months

Text

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 10]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.4K

When Yunho entered the restaurant the next day, he heard you already giving instructions and tasks to the rest of the crew. He walked in with the box of tools he had bought the day before. He was excited to show all of you what he bought, especially you.

"Surprise!" He beamed as he walked in. All 4 of you stopped, turning your head to see the tall male walking in, his face covered by the boxes he was carrying.

"Yunho hyung, what's this?" Jongho asked, helping to take the box from Yunho and putting it on the counter.

"I bought some stuff for the kitchen!" He explained, opening it.

"The guy at the store told me these are important essentials that every kitchen needs. Tomorrow, the electrical equipment is coming." He took the different things out and set them on the table.

"Oh yes, we needed these." Seonghwa said as he looked through all the things Yunho bought.

"Did you have that much fun shopping?" You raised an eyebrow. Yunho blushed slightly, did he seem too excited?

"I didn't really know what to get. And I felt bad for waiting so long to properly equip the kitchen with what you need. If you need anything else, let me know!" Yunho said. Wooyoung and Seonghwa took all the things to be washed and sanitised for you all to use immediately. You went back to mixing your fruit mixture.

"(y/n), the things I go are useful right?" Yunho came to stand next to you. Seonghwa watched on in curiosity. If Yunho had a tail, it would be wagging in anticipation now.

"Yeah. It's tools that we'll definitely use." You replied. Yunho perked up and grinned widely, happy by your words.

"What are you making?" He asked.

"Jam tartlets. The jam is blueberry and thyme." You said, grabbing a disposable spoon and scooping up a little for Yunho to taste. He ate the little bit of jam.

"That's nice! I'm guessing that herb flavour is the thyme?" He said. You hummed and went to take the tray with the blind baked tartlet shells. You gave Yunho two tablespoons.

"Two spoons per tart shell." You instructed.

"O-Oh! Okay!" He beamed, going over to wash his hands before stepping back to help you. He was glad that you just had him do tasks without him having to offer anymore, it was like you were used to him being around.

"So what other stuff are we putting out this morning?" Yunho asked as he focussed on filling the tart shells with equal amounts of jam. You turned to the others in the kitchen.

"I'm making a devil's food cake." Wooyoung raised his hand.

"I'm making a quiche with salmon and leeks. We made matcha financiers, they're cooling off." Seonghwa continued.

"I'm making a plum blechkuchen (German sheet cake)." Jongho said.

"And today's cupcake/ muffin is pandan chiffon with a gula melaka (coconut sugar) center." You finished. Although Yunho has not heard of half of those things, he was still excited to see what they were.

"They sound tasty for sure." Yunho smiled. He finished filling all the tartlet shells and you bent down to check that they were all level.

"Good job." You nodded in approval, putting them close to the serving window.

"Thank you!" Yunho smiled. After that, the other 4 came in and they all go ready for the store opening. As usual, Yunho made the entire kitchen crew drinks to have while they finished up their baking. You took a 5 minute break, sipping your coffee as you brainstormed on dinner ideas for tonight.

"So we're doing ricotta stuffed french toast right? With smoked maple butter and sour cherry sauce." You asked the kitchen. The 3 boys nodded their heads.

"Ribs? We can do a gochujang, barbecue type sauce. We'll leave the ribs in brine before we leave." You suggested.

"Ooh, we got good fish this morning. What if we used it to make a crudo? Use up the yuzu fruits to make the dressing." Jongho said.

"Good idea." You nodded, writing that down.

"What about poached chicken? We can poach it in samgyetang herbs. Use the stock to make rice after that. Chicken and rice dish." Seonghwa suggested.

"Yes, some might appreciate a lighter dish." Wooyoung chimed in. You noted all that down.

"Breakfast has just begun and you're already discussing dinner?" San laughed as he came in while you were all still discussing the dishes.

"We have to be prepared, some dishes need as much time as possible. Like we've decided to do ribs tonight so that means we need to marinate them before we leave later. Give it as much time to tenderise the meat and season it." You said.

"Giving more time to marinate helps tenderise it?" San tilted his head in surprise.

"With rib meat, there's not a lot of fat and flavour. So you marinate it, it firstly helps to soften the meat with the acid content. And it gives time for the flavours and salt to penetrate." Wooyoung explained.

"Oh wow. I never knew that." San said.

"So what is good to use to marinate? From what Wooyoung said, so something salty and acidic?"

"Yeah. But there are other things you can use. Like we'll use pineapple, it has an enzyme called bromelain that tenderises meat. Salt is easy things with soy sauce." Jongho informed.

"We'll go with those flavours since we want to use a gochujang based sauce when grilling. So asian tastes." You added.

"San, we need you! Stop chatting." Yeosang called.

"I'm not chatting! I'm learning." San growled in annoyance. He gave everyone a friendly smile and wave before leaving the kitchen to go help in the front. The 4 of you got back to work, finishing up on the baked treats so you could prepare for dinner tonight and leave to rest for the afternoon.

"Last batch done and cooling." Seonghwa said, putting the last cake by the window. When the treat or cake was done outside, those working the front would come and get the refill.

"I'm going for a breather." You said, going out for 5 minutes. The 3 didn't protest to that.

"Okay, let's clean up and start preparing what we need for dinner tonight." You instructed after coming back in.

"You prepare the stuff for tonight. We'll clean." Jongho came. Seonghwa nodded, bringing the used bowls to the sink to start washing them.

"Guess it's us on prep." Wooyoung bumped his hip against yours.

"Let's get all the meats out for trimming then." You said. Wooyoung helped you bring out all the packs of ribs, putting all the meats on the prep table. There was a lot of meat to get through.

"Rock, paper, scissors. Winner makes marinade, loser preps the meat?" Wooyoung wriggled his eyebrows at you.

"You're on." Seonghwa and Jongho ignored the two of you. But soon, Wooyoung was letting out curses, an indication of who emerged victorious in the game. You smiled happily, skipping to the pantry to collect what you needed for the marinade.

"I hate removing the membrane. It's so slippery." Wooyoung whined. But nonetheless, he took the pack of meat and grabbed his knife. He removed the membrane at the back, trimmed the excess fat cap off.

"Did you bring your boning knife?" Wooyoung asked. You nodded over to your knife wrap.

"I'm going to need it for frenching (cleaning the excess meat, fat and sinew off the bones for cleaner look)." He said.

"Knock yourself out." You giggled, making Wooyoung roll his eyes, continuing to grumble. You made a big batch of marinade, mixing all the ingredients in together.

"Thank you for your hard work this morning." Yunho came in for a short breather.

"How's the crowd?" You asked.

"It's good, actually. We're selling things at a steady pace. I think we're starting to have repeating customers too, I recognise some faces." Yunho smiled blissfully.

"What are you doing?" Yunho came over, full of curiosity.

"I'm making a marinade for the pork ribs. So Woo is preparing the ribs and we'll let them soak for as long as we can before we grill them for dinner. Get as much flavour in them as possible. Then we brush on a gochujang sort of barbecue sauce at the end. We'll serve it with white kimchi and roast potatoes." You informed.

"As someone who loves meat, that sound really good. White kimchi sounds like it will go together really well." Yunho said, nearly drooling as he imagined the dish.

"We'll see if the customers like more Western based dishes." You shrugged and he nodded in agreement.

"What's in the marinade?"

"Soy sauce, pineapple juice, pear juice, onions, sesame oil, peppercorns, salt and garlic. We're going for something similar to a bulgogi or galbi marinade." You explained to him.

"Done." Wooyoung groaned, throwing his head back tiredly. You chuckled and put the ribs into the tubs.

"I'll pour the marinades in." You used a measuring cup to divide the marinade into the tubs.

"Let me help with that." Yunho took one of the tubs after Wooyoung closed the lids, bringing it into the walk in to leave it there to marinate. Jongho helped bring the other tubs in too. After that, you put all your aprons in your little cubbies.

"See you later!" Yunho waved with smile. You all waved back, bowing your heads as you walked to Wooyoung's car to head home to rest for the next few hours.

"They just left?" Mingi poked his head in. Yunho nodded, taking his mug to drink his coffee.

"Grab me some chocolate sauce while you're there? Everyone seems to be craving mochas today." He asked.

"Sure. Anything else you need?" Yunho raised an eyebrow. Mingi shook his head and Yunho went to grab what the baristas needed for the front.

"You're very good looking." Some girls giggled as Yunho keyed in their order and received their money.

"Thank you. You can head to the end for your order pick up." Yunho smiled kindly, gesturing to the end of the counter. Mingi and Hongjoong watched on, both facepalming at how Yunho replied so normally. He was too kind to anyone that he met, not one to turn others away or reject their flirting.

Or maybe he just never noticed it when others flirted with him. Girls would usually get frustrated that Yunho wouldn't flirt back, just respond with a kind smile and a wave.

"What are we going to do with you?" Mingi clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"What?" Yunho asked, confused by his best friend's words.

"You're too friendly, Yunho ah." Hongjoong chuckled, patting the taller on the shoulder before heading to the back kitchen. Yunho still didn't understand what his friends were saying.

"Can I have your Instagram?" One of the girls giggled as they waited for their drink that San was making.

"Sorry, girls. Company policy, we can't give that info out." Mingi came to save Yunho, slinging an arm around his shoulder. The girls either pouted or frowned at Mingi's words, taking their drinks from San and leaving the cafe. Mingi chuckled and let out a soft sigh.

"What company policy are you talking about? I'm the owner and I didn't even know we had any policy." Yunho raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"Trust me, buddy. You'll thank me later." Mingi patted Yunho's shoulders and walked back to the barista area to help San.

Instead of going home to rest, you went to the shops with Jongho to pick up some extra things that you might need for dinenr tonight like ginseng chicken soup herbs and worcesteshire sauce.

"Oh wow, key limes." Jongho said, picking one up to inspect. You looked over in interest.

"What a rarity... And they're not expensive. Shall we make key lime pie?" You turned to meet his eyes. Jongho nodded.

"Key lime syrup for drinks." His eyes sparkled excitedly. The both of you bought a few punnets, putting it into the trolley and continuing on your way.

"Hwa said he needed more stock bags." You grabbed two packets off the shelf. After getting what you needed, you and Jongho went to get a coffee at the coffee stand near the markets then drove to your home. You both decided to spend the remaining time napping at your house rather than splitting up.

When Jongho came to wake you up, you were not pleased to be woken up. All the tiredness of your broken sleep schedule was hitting you all at once, which was not ideal.

"Don't be grumpy." Jongho chuckled as he drove. You hid further into your hoodie.

"Hwa hyung's gonna send you home and won't let you do dinner service, you know?" Jongho reminded. You pouted, you didn't want to be sent home.

"Here." Jongho held out the coffee he poured into a travel mug for you.

"Thanks." You mumbled and took the tumbler to take a sip. When Jongho pulled up to park, you let out a childish whine.

"Come on." Jongho got out and went to open the passenger door for you. You grumbled as you stepped out, you were really just so tired and sleep deprived that you didn't want to be working.

You and Jongho were first to arrived. You went to get your apron, tying it around your waist and tucking two tea towels into your apron string. Then you put your precision tongs and tasting spoon into the pockets in front.

"Let's start." You said to Jongho. He nodded and stood with you, prepping what you needed to start.

"We should get the poaching liquid for the chicken going first. I want as much of the herbal flavour to get in because we need that liquid for the rice later." You informed.

"Okay, I'll prepare the herbs first?" He asked.

"No, help me butcher the chickens. I want to serve them in halves." You said. Jongho nodded and went to prepare his station.

"I'll prep the herbs." You went to get the samgyetang herbs that you bought earlier, brushing off any debris that you saw, throwing it into the pot with some stock.

"Hey." Seonghwa and Wooyoung came in. You were focused at your own counter. Wooyoung pointed at your back, signalling to Jongho.

Jongho put his hands together, tucking it under his ear to show that you were sleeping before this. Wooyoung and Seonghwa nodded their heads, understanding him. They went to put their things in their cubbies and got their aprons. Wooyoung didn't dare approach you yet but Seonghwa was daring enough.

"Hey, darling." Seonghwa came up to you.

"Park, I'm holding a knife. If you're going to ask me to go home now and sleep, I'm not responsible for what I do with said knife." You said, continuing to cut the garlic.

"Carry on." He patted your head and backed away. The only time you called him 'Park' was when you were grumpy.

"I'll get started on the ribs." Wooyoung raised his hand, going into the walk in.

"Hwa, start on the appetisers. Jong, when you're done, prep what we'll need for the rose carbonara. I'll do the desserts after I put the chickens in for poaching." You instructed.

"Okay." They all replied and got to doing their tasks.

When Yunho, Mingi, Hongjoong, Yeosang and San came in for the dinner shift, they too felt the coldness in the room. Yunho could practically see the rain cloud above your head. Wooyoung shook his head, using his hand to do a neck slice action.

"Go." Yunho whispered, ushering the other boys out to the front to get ready for dinner service.

"Don't worry, (y/n). I'll be at the pass tonight." They heard Wooyoung offer from the kitchen window. Tonight was supposed to be your turn at the window.

"We need an extra pair of hands. San." You poked your head out briefly. San raised his hand and jogged to the kitchen quickly.

Yunho pouted, he had hoped he was the first one you call to help in the kitchen. He could do just as well as San.

"Let's get the silverware out." Mingi said. Hongjoong brought his maitre d stand to the front, making sure his iPad with all the reservations was on and working.

"Work phone?" Hongjoong asked. Yunho took it from the charger behind the counter and handed it over. The shorter put it in his pocket.

"(y/n) a little sleep deprived now and like a little kid, she can get grumpy when she needs sleep. So just... steer clear. Don't try to send her home or anything, she already threatened Seonghwa. It's scary." Jongho advised to those that were outside, having come out to get a mug of juice from the bar fridge.

"I'm stepping out real quick to get something. If I'm not back in time, Hongjoong hyung, open for me?" Yunho said.

"Do you need something?" Yeosang asked.

"Kind of...? I'll be as fast as I can. Just manage it for the time being." Yunho said and ran out the front door of the restaurant, leaving his dumbfounded friends there.

When Yunho came back, he came through the back. He put what he needed in his cupboard before coming out of the small room.

"Woah." He almost crashed into you. You raised an eyebrow, looking up at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be out there?" You asked, nodding over to the front of the restaurant. Yunho gulped, suddenly feeling like a child that was caught by his parent.

"I needed to get something so Hongjoong hyung opened up for me." Yunho said. You nodded and went into the get something front your bag. Yunho's eyes followed you until you stopped.

"Need something?" You stared back at him, questioningly.

"N-No! I'm going out." Yunho quickly bowed his head and ran away to support his friends with waiting tables. You slightly frowned in confusion but grabbed what you needed before going back to the kitchen as dinner service was starting.

Thankfully for you, dinner service went by quickly. The customers liked the menu and the food. When it was near closing, your kitchen crew took turns to prepare the dessert and to eat their dinner.

"Why don't you finish up dessert and go home? We'll clean up." Wooyoung offered.

"I'm fine." You rolled your eyes, flipping the french toast in the pan.

"Can I get a coffee, please? Two shots, on the rocks." You turned to Jongho. He nodded and ate another bite, exiting the kitchen to go out and make you a coffee.

"Service." You put yours and Wooyoung's plate at the window. Yeosang came over and took it to serve.

"Here you go." Jongho handed you the cup. You took a sip and exited the back door.

"Last few tables. Is (y/n) outside?" Yunho asked. Seonghwa nodded. Yunho went to the locker room and grabbed something, slipping out the back door. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho tried but couldn't get a glimpse at what Yunho was carrying. They shrugged and returned to what they were doing.

"(y/n)?" Yunho looked around. He saw you sitting on the curb, cup of coffee beside you as you pressed your cheek on your folded arms. Your eyes were closed as you snoozed.

"Did you need something?" You asked with your eyes closed, making Yunho jump in surprise.

"Ummm, I have something for you." Yunho said shyly. Your eyes fluttered open as you stared at him.

"Sit." You scooted, patting the space beside you. He gladly sat down. You took a sip of your coffee first, raising an eyebrow at Yunho, waiting for him to say something.

"Something to brighten your day... Or, at this time, I guess it's night. To give you energy." Yunho grinned, taking the paper bag.

"Which is?" You were not expecting him to take a sunflower bouquet out for you.

"Oh and this. I don't know how to make donuts so I figured buying one that I know is good will be better than me trying to make one on my own." Yunho said, holding out the box of 3 donuts. You stared at the two items.

"Sunflowers bring light and energy... I just thought... I don't know..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. You melted a little, this was completely unexpected.

"Thank you, Yunho. I'm really fine, don't worry." You didn't know what came over you as you reached out to pat his head gratefully.

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radiance1 · 6 months

Text

Vlad jumps universes.

Why? Well, his empire crumbled because of a certain wizard, who marked his fall as 'collateral damage' and Vlad?

Vlad was PISSED.

As a last fuck you from that same wizard, Vlad was turned into a cat, before that wizard croaked and died. So, Vlad jumped universes since everything he built crumbled and there was literally nothing tying him to that universe anyways.

So, he stepped foot in this new one and decided he would build his empire from the ground up, just like his old one. He will admit, it was a bit harder than he expected, being a cat closed a few methods for him to acquire what he wanted.

So, what to do?

Take a random, down on his luck man, and make him a deal he can't refuse of course. Lost the love of your life? Your family cut off all ties with you? Lost your home in a house fire and in crippling debt?

Well, does Vlad have an offer you can't refuse!

He'll give you everything you could ever need! Anything you would want, could be right within your grasp! You could change your fate with this one simple choice.

This is a deal you can't refuse!

Did he actually think he had a choice in the matter? When Vlad said he can't refuse, he meant it. Vlad will bring whatever you want within reach, fulfil your wildest dreams and give you a life of comfort you wouldn't have even believed a few moments prior!

Vlad then goes on to use said guy as the 'CEO' of his company, ripping multiple businesses out of the hands of the unwary and rebuilding his empire one block at a time with a human puppet as the face.

Said human puppet feels like he made a deal with a demon in the guise of a cat. But hey, he gets a lavish life and paid off debt so he's not really complaining about it. Could be worse, like asking for his soul or to gather a bunch of sacrifices to summon some greater demon god or something.

Then they pull up to Gotham for a Gala, the guy is unsure about it, but Vlad couldn't care less, and wants to smack the guy over the head with his paw because you think he would let you die while he was there? No, you're currently too useful for something like that.

He does roll his eyes though.

The guy wants to feel happy about it, but is slightly concerned and then decides not to think about it.

So, a while before the gala, Vlad goes out because he was curious about Gotham. Making no attempts at hiding how well-maintained he looked, or the expensive collar around his neck, that he willingly got himself thank you very much, because he goes the extra mile to play his part.

Of course, in a city like Gotham, such a thing doesn't go unnoticed. Resulting in multiple attempts to try and catnap him, not that they ever work, in fact, apparently seeing his powers just make him even more valuable.

Something about him being easy pickings since he doesn't belong to a Familia (Heard Robin call them that and it just caught on with everyone else) and that they could sell him off if they were quick.

Them? Sell him off? Tough luck.

After about... the fourth? Time that this happened, a few cat interrupted before he could do anything and then suddenly said cat gets shot, stands back up and goes back to fighting said humans who then ran away when another cat with power over electricity pulled up a few seconds later and they decided it wasn't worth it.

He could have taken care of himself, but it was interesting nonetheless, and because of that interest, he was now following the immortal cat who was constantly yapping his ear off with questions out of curiosity, bemusement, and interest.

Kevin the Deathless.

Is apparently what he was known as in the underbelly of Gotham city, known for his sheer recklessness and to be quite a pain in the ass since he would get back up no matter what you throw at him.

Vlad's interest only grows.

When asked for his age, he reveals it very easily since he didn't see any point in hiding it. 176, an age that shocks the cat, which is obvious, and then he's told that he's older than 'Gramps' and that he's 150.

Vlad pauses. Then resumes in the next second on the way to the warehouse that is home to Kevin's Familia.

Then he finds the Head to be Danny, and suddenly isn't as surprised anymore. Though for Danny to be the lead for an organization? Never thought he had it in him.

Danny is about as enthused to see Vlad as Vlad was enthused to see him.

Which is not at all.

Most of it due to the awkward tension between the two because of their past and outliving their friends and family and then just never getting around to trying to fix it. But Danny asks why Vlad is here, Vlad says for a gala, Danny then clarifies that he meant in this dimension.

And why he's a cat.

He gets a good laugh out when Vlad explains because of a wizard, which was the same circumstance as him but still, he didn't expect a wizard of all things to topple Vlad's empire and turn him into a cat. Said wizard is dead now, but details, details.

Vlad questions where he got Kevin, and Danny is like: "No you can't have him." While hiding Kevin under him, or trying to at least.

Vlad is like: [Wrinkles nose] "I don't want him you imbecile. I'm just curious."

Then they talk for a while, Vlad being filled in a bit about the different Familias around the city, Vlad is impressed that so many cats have what this dimension deems as meta-abilities. Then Vlad goes back, a few days later, and the Gala starts.

Then that Gala was held hostage and Vlad has never been so... done. In his life. The urge to smack his puppet grew, because this guy just wouldn't stop worrying about it.

Vlad is literally with him, why the fuck is he worrying? No harm would come to him when Vlad is around, the idiot.

So, due to losing patience, he went to take care of them. Fur changing from grey to black as night as he used his powers to take care of them.

Whatever fallout happens, he'll leave to his puppet to deal with. for worrying so much.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover

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lqfiles · 1 day

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PAY THE PRICE — profiles (1)

the wannabe celebs and the actual famous friend.

it’s haechan and his electric guitar against the world. he might be a disturbance to others, but he couldn't care less. y/n doesn't bother him much until she is at his door step every other night spewing threats (that he totally doesn't like) often described as the common burden by others (y/n & jaemin), again, he doesn't care.

a very passionate cat lover is what those who knew renjun would call him. haechan would consider him his closest friend as the two have known each other for years. majority of the time he’s in his own world, tweeting into the void. a very blunt and upfront friend, no sugarcoating when it comes to renjun.

7/10 times if you come across renjun, you’ll most likely meet yangyang with him. that’s exactly how haechan met the peculiar guy, he was there one day and has been there ever since. the type of guy who wants to live life on the edge and loves being controversial and nosy. yes he does get ratioed on twitter, no he doesn’t care.

if there is someone that gets haechan’s passion for music, it’s jaehyun. a pretty famous singer who had blown up in just a year. gets a lot of engagement on his socials for both his looks and music. despite his busy schedule that prevents them from meeting much, haechan knows he can depend on his friend for anything.

master list — profiles 2

notes ; i don’t think i’ll ever come up with a username as good as grlscrshing but lpreqords has a ring to it too tbh

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @yeritos @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @jaehyunastico @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay

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izvmimi · 1 year

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where there's smoke, there's fire - izuku x reader

summary: it's hard to get out of a loving relationship.

cw: yandere, horror, home invasion, manipulative behavior, abusive relationship, reader's kinda sick in the head too, smut, fem!parts, noncon/dubcon, oral sex (fem!receiving), penetrative sex

a/n: idk every overpowered person needs a killswitch ig.

You awake from a nightmare.

It's the type that has you bolting straight up to a sitting position, head pounding, throat dry and heart thumping in your chest in a frenzy. You're not sure what the dream was about, just that you were out cold for an unspecified amount of time, and while a sense of malaise is still set deep in your bones, there's an even more substantial leaden feeling in your arms, as though parts of you are still waking up.

And something is wrong, something that isn't neatly contained within the realm of REM sleep. You can sense it, keenly. It is dark in your room, and when your eyes finally adjust, you’re shocked to realize that your home is filled top to bottom with a thick haze of smoke.

Gasping, you then cover your mouth, remembering everything fire safety has taught you. Yet somehow, something about the smoke is wrong. There's no alarm going off from your smoke detectors, and you had an inspection recently, so you know those work. The smoke seems... wrong: too thick and evenly spread to be coming from a fire whose heat isn't close enough to feel. When you crawl out of the bed carefully, kicking off satin sheets, and using your fingers to make your way through the dense veneer, you realize it's still cold in fact, cold enough that you are shivering.

Perhaps it is fear that keeps the fine hairs on the back of your neck on end.

Still trailing around your mattress you maneuver further, waving a hand through the smoke. Maybe if you can find your phone, left charging on your dresser for once and not thrown irresponsibly on the other side of your bed as you slept, you can figure out what’s going on and call for help.

Your heart is still pounding, a thump, thump, thump, that is relentless.

The smoke smells wrong.

You find your phone, and somehow manage to turn on your flashlight.

The smoke is...

purple.

Your eyes widen with realization and you start to turn quickly.

"Izuku-"

There's a flash of green that seems to leap out of the darkness before you can begin to scream, and a body collides with yours, with the sensation almost like being hit by a moving vehicle in terms of speed and power; it takes your breath away, and a hand clasped firmly over your mouth refuses to let you draw a breath.

The smoke doesn't dissipate, not yet, but you can see him now, almost too clearly, and then your eyes water and your vision clouds.

"I missed you," he says, matter-of-factly. As if he hadn’t just broken into your home. As if he were welcome.

You try to say something but both the hand sealing away your voice and the firm hold he has on your body, pressing it close against his as he leans you against the dresser, allows you no such justice. Your phone crashes off the surface too loudly, and the squeak of the legs as the dresser slides across wooden flooring pierces through your ears.

Izuku's grin is wide and unsettling, like a feral cat delighted to finally have caught its unsuspecting prey. His teeth are disturbingly white in the dark, and his eyes still gleam like electricity in a storm. He doesn't need to use OFA to trap you, and nevertheless, you can see it ripple through his body as a form of intimidation.

By now, he knows that you've already given up flight, and he loves that you know that he knows. You stare at each other for a moment, recognizing the gravity of the situation, and time freezes for a split second.

Then it resumes.

"Say it back," he mutters now, dropping his hand. You'd forgotten to breathe in all this time, not even daring to inhale from your nose, and now suck in a huge volume of air, crying as you breathe it out.

He lets you weep silently for a few more moments, your hands digging deep into the edge of the dresser, watching you with the blank expression that is so unlike him but also far too much like him. It's the one that is devoid of his usual compassion, once he's decided that you are in no way worth saving but rather something to be dealt with. Swiftly, efficiently. When you catch it and recognize it for what it is, your blood runs cold and suddenly your tears dry up. They’re pointless.

"Say it back." his tone is more demanding now, and you shake your head.

"I didn-"

"Say it back." he repeats again, and he advances. The smoke is starting to clear finally, ever so slightly, and you can see a little more of him. He is superficially the same as you remember before you disappeared on him just a few months ago - same broad shoulders and imposing height, heroic frame despite the boyish, freckled face - but there’s a faint pallor under his skin, and he's just very slightly more gaunt, something you can peek from the neckline of his plain blue t-shirt, and there is a very slight tremulousness that extends to his fingertips that reminds you he is much more angry than he wants to let on.

You step back reflexively and consider standing your ground, and then you remember that the same hands that once held your face gently have leveled a building to that same ground, and you swallow hard.

"I-it's been a while." your voice is barely audible, weak, not much more than a whisper.

"That's not what I asked you to say," Izuku catches immediately. But he allows it, leaning in, and his face is all smiles again. Your stomach turns and again you're leaning back, but all that is behind you is a hard surface, and he even helps you up there, immediately hoisting you onto the short dresser so that your back presses against a mirror, something that can so easily break.

It’s not really that unlike you now that you think about it. You are just as fragile.

He snorts.

"Did you think I couldn't find you?" he asks.

You shake your head and he laughs, and quicker than a flash he's grabbed your face by the underside of your chin, squishing your cheeks together in mock intimacy.

"How cute."

Your throat dries up again enough that a sharp breath would make you choke and sputter.

His eyes dart back and forth, inspecting every part of your body, from your face to your neck, bosom to your upper limbs, then your thighs, bare in pajama shorts. You feel unreasonably vulnerable, like he has x-ray vision, seeing to the very center of your person. There is an impulse to cover your chest, despite being covered tastefully in a tank top, and when you try to cross your arms, he forces them back to their sides.

There's a gasp you let out and then you bite your lip silent, afraid to make him angry. Izuku glares at you, licking his lips.

"You realize I only let you go so you could get back to your senses, right?"

This has you taken aback, despite all your fear. What does he mean, 'get back to your senses'? You meant it when you left. Things had felt wrong for far too long, and the walls were starting to close in... calling too much, worrying too much, comments about your clothing and your comings and goings, nervous about any men who he wasn't aware of becoming too familiar, even your own brother... It had all become too much the longer you dated and suddenly you were a frog nearly half-boiled, realizing it was almost too late.

Maybe it is too late now. Izuku, you can tell, is still in his own twisted way, in love with you.

After all, his hand is running gently the length of your thigh as he waits for you to speak. You won't speak, but you know you can't look away, lest he throw a real tantrum. As if stalking you right now and demanding you tell him you missed him is not tantrum enough.

The smoke continues to clear.

"You're taking too long to apologize, my love." he says, once his hand has reached your face again, and he's tilting your face to look at him. You allow him to move you, like a warm life-size doll, not a human with thoughts and feelings of your own.

"I've missed you so much... sure i've been busy, but going home to that cold bed without you, night after night? How cruel can you be?"

He turns to look at your own bed, smaller than the one you shared but still enough space for two.

"Do you still sleep on the left side?" he asks. This time he's not looking at you, still staring at the mangled sheets on both ends.

He turns back to you now, expecting an answer, and when you don't give him one immediately, he repeats himself again, sharply.

"Do you?"

"Yes." you admit, wondering why it sounds like a grave confession. He smiles, and you try not to look at him. and yet he tilts you face back in his direction before asking you another question.

"Bunny, you're so cruel, you know that? Valentine's day?" he asks. His eyebrow raises and he tilts his head to the side. "How could you leave me on Valentine's day?"

When should I have? you ask in your head, thankful he can't hear your thoughts.

"I had a ring, love. I wanted to marry you, maybe that day even. We could sign some papers and disappear with each other for a little while… It could have been such a beautiful thing, you know how badly I need a break! So imagine how it felt to see that you were long gone!"

Izuku's grip on your chin tightens for a moment, then he pushes you slightly. The back of your head taps gently at the mirror behind you, but it doesn't hurt and the glass doesn't break, even if there is a sting where his fingers pressed onto your skin.

He steps back and laughs again, really laughs, hands running through his hair as he doubles over in amusement.

"I looked so stupid! flowers and chocolate and stuffed animals and sparklers... I was going to fly you up to the highest point and write our names in the sky.. I was..." his voice trails off, and he is staring off into space. You are shaking now, crying too, somewhere between terrified and enraged the longer he speaks.

His eyes narrow as his gaze snaps back to you from your sniffling sound.

"Say what you want to say, dove." The edge in his voice is palpable though, as if he is expecting a hit that he will return with just as much fervor.

“You can't force me.” Vitriol seeps from your voice but it’s shaky and unconvincing.

And so he laughs, again, sinking down finally onto your bed, and laying backward, an action that makes you almost furious. A mocking laugh, arms spreading like he would make a snow angel; bile rises in your throat and you fidget but you don't move, knowing that your break for it has to be smart if it will be successful.

"But you can make me fall for you?" he asks, through humorless chuckles. "That's not fair, is it?"

Bolder now, you retort, "I didn't make you do anything."

Izuku doesn't like this response, moving fast enough that one second he's off the bed and right in your face and the other second has you thrown onto the mattress itself; so fast that you barely register it until your back is where his back was, and he is hovering right on top of you.

"You approached me first." This is said harshly, as though he is regretful of that fateful encounter and you resist the urge to spit in his face.

No, you just said hi to him first, and he was smitten that you'd given him any attention, The cute but admittedly terribly awkward boy sitting alone in a coffee shop, with an extra chair that you'd wanted to borrow for your friends. Maybe you'd given him too long of eye contact, maybe it was the fact that you didn't know who he was yet; maybe you had flirted a little the second time you met, but who wouldn't when having a chance to meet the charming hero on television, the one who hugged children and petted dogs and smiled to the camera and disappeared villains in the blink of an eye?

How could you have known he had a couple screws loose? He was so good otherwise.

Until the paranoia set in. the obsession with you and your safety and your innocence and you belonging to him and the constant explaining away of unhinged behavior, and the long periods of absence with sudden, extreme and unending demands for intimacy - he was making you as crazy as he was.

"I didn't know you were insane." you finally say, looking straight up into his eyes, brazen behavior arising from three years of almost pulling your hair out and three short months of fear.

His eyes widen, and for a split second he looks furious, and in his eyes you suddenly see a storm - in fact, you imagine your entire home up in flames and lightning instead of smoke - and then he kisses you.

You fight back, but the grip on your wrists is like wrought iron - in fact, as though making a mockery of you as he leans all of his weight on top of you, he shifts your wrists forced at your sides to rest above your head, then uses one hand to keep them together, the other stroking the side of your face gently. The longer you kick at him, the longer he presses your legs down, then adjusts his weight to pin you fully, the longer you can feel your head start to spin from lack of air in your lungs.

"Settle down." he orders you, once you're almost dizzy, as the fight quickly makes its way out of you. He forces his tongue down your throat and suddenly, eventually, instead of biting you accept it, because this is a body you know, and a body that you've fought but you've also held, and the taste of his tongue is the same as it's always been.

His weight is familiar, and the way he sucks your tongue and his lips clash with yours is intimate, and again your fighting spirit drains further and further. Your limbs grow limp and he adjusts, now less on top of you and more fitted against you, large body accommodating to the spread of your legs.

He pulls back, and your eyelids flutter. Izuku looks at you with an unnatural amount of love, an unsettling amount of love, a love that is crushingly abundant and inescapable.

You hear him whisper, "that's my girl."

It should make you angry, but instead you're tired, exhausted even, and then you're comforted, because why fight him when you won't win and when he loves you anyway?

Will anyone else ever feel this strongly about you, enough to remove any obstacles in your path, even if it is your own silly will to be free? Will anyone else be so willing to be your own personal monster, at your beck and call?

You have the power to make the prison your home. After all, you are not only stuck to him, he is just as much stuck to you.

Deku is a good hero. Izuku is a good man. He is your man.

He’s strange, and he’s terrifying, but that’s because he is special. Unique. You have to understand where he’s coming from. If not you, then who else?

Your hands curl into his hair, tugging softly and your body shifts too, legs wrapping around his waist keeping him snug against you. You know if he wanted to, he would as easily melt into your skin as he wishes you would consume him. After all, what else runs through his head all day? It is only natural that separation from you should make him this anxious, this self- and outwardly destructive.

There is tragedy just as much as there is comedy and joy in fate.

"Do you love me?" you ask, as you feel Izuku grow against you with every wave of his body against your center. He nips and bites at you relentlessly, leaving hickeys everywhere he can reach. Marking you, marking you, marking you.

"Yes," he whispers. He kisses your earlobes, and your hands reach the side of his face, cupping them so that he faces you.

"Do you love me enough to ever let me go?" you ask again.

Are your eyes pleading for mercy? You know that they are wet with tears, but you can still see him. He's beautiful when he's not angry, when he's not afraid or stressed or vengeful. The sweetest man. A man you've loved. Someone you still love even if you are afraid.

Izuku shakes his head quickly, and tears fill his eyes.

"I love you too much for that to be possible."

You nod, and a tear slides sideways down your cheek. He'll never understand. Maybe one day you’ll accept it, when you’ve both grown too old to argue.

"Good."

He dips down low and kisses you and this time, you accept him more readily. It takes not long for your clothes and his clothes to be shed, and your naked bodies to press together fervently, the once freezing room now hot with twisted passion. Izuku bites your lower lip and asks you who else has touched you since him.

“No one, Izu,” you whisper.

He’s pleased to hear it, not that you could safely give him any other answer. His cock presses hot and heavy against your pubic bone; he hasn’t entered you yet, and you wonder how he’s managed to wait this long before stuffing you full.

Izuku kisses your forehead, then your nose, then lifts himself up so that he’s rested on his haunches. You gasp as he drags your lower half upwards to his mouth as easily as lifting a glass of water, and sips, then gulps your center down, thirstily like your pussy is an oasis and he is a weary traveler seeking solace.

He’s moaning, palming your ass cheeks with fervor as he slurps you down - worse so because he is loud as he eats you up - your back arches and you grab fistfuls of his hair as you whine and mewl and squirm under his touch. It’s too much, it’s always too much and yet you can feel your head swim with pleasure the longer he goes on.

After all, he just loves you so much, he just has a heavy-handed way of showing it.

“God, you taste so good,” he whispers into your folds. “You’re so beautiful, you’re everything, I need you so much, bunny, don’t you know?” His tongue circles around your clit, licks long stripes to the taint, dips into your center; he sucks at your folds, bites gently even, ignoring the straggled gasp you let out, or the way your legs tighten around his shoulders as you tense up and explode into climax.

As you shudder and shake as he lets you go, laying you back down to recover from the first blinding orgasm, he whispers that you are beautiful again, and again, and again.

You know you’re beautiful. He’s told you so many times already, enough that even if you stare at the mirror and think of yourself as less than perfect, you can hear him over and over again in your head.

Beautiful. Perfect. Gorgeous. His.

You are his.

Izuku takes no time filling you to the hilt once your breathing evens out - or once he runs out of patience - and you wince as you adjust to his size, but it’s a mostly pleasurable burning stretch as he bullies his way into your pussy, letting out a sigh as he nestles deep where he belongs, and he actually smiles, relief that you can see in the dim light when he presses his forehead again close to yours.

“Don’t we fit together perfectly?”

“Mm, ‘zuku,” you reply in the affirmative. Mollified and malleable you are now, as you should be for him, your voice is soft, barely a whisper, wavering only with the twitch of his cock inside you.

Izuku kisses your earlobe, and rolls you so that you lay above him, forcing you upright.

“So I can see you better,” he says as he nudges you, and understanding, you support your weight gently with your palms. He won’t make you ride him, he’ll do all the movement himself, but he loves to see the bounce of your breasts as they do now with every thrust upwards. Every gasp and sigh as you hold on to him, the twist of your features, the way you throw your head back when he has a firm grip on your hips and really goes to town; how you shake when you climax, squeezing your quivering thighs together in time with your fluttering walls, drawing in deep breaths for lewd, lewd moans.

Izuku plays you like a fucking fiddle.

He pleasures you first, because oh goodness, he can outlast you nearly any day of the week, drawing climax after climax out of you until you’re dumb and quiet, waiting for the thick spurts of cum to fill you up.

He’s done this enough times, until you’re craving and needy and forget why you’re mad in the first place.

Dick sick and sick in the head, just as much as he is.

And just like that, he forces his way back into your life. Legs tangled together as you sleep, lives intertwined anew like nothing ever happened.

You’ll become a very good liar yet again, but for now, as he rests, his face nestled into your bosom and hold unbreakable and inescapable, you decide to sleep, and leave your love problems to the morning to come.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku smut #izuku midoriya smut #yandere izuku x reader #yandere x reader #bnha x reader #cw noncon #cw dubcon #thoughts: izuku #daydreams: bnha #mimi's notes

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linddzz · 3 months

Note

32 with Dreamling? 👀

Smut Prompts:

#32: A suffers from pent-up stress and frustration. B offers their body for them to use to get rid of negative emotions.

Edit: Full fic on AO3

Wordcount: 6977 (nice)

Warnings: Canon typical descriptions of violence. Dream being an unhinged little nightmare, but Hob is so down for it. Also, it's a smut prompt. So there is smut. Dicks abound. In typical fashion it took me a while to get to said dicks though. No beta and only the barest editing.

Summary: Service Dom Hob is here to give his bizarre Eldritch boyfriend the tenderest, gentlest domming of his Endles existence. Dream is still going to be a hissing little brat about it. Tbh I waffled a bit on which way to go with this one, but realized that what I really want sometimes is to have Hob scruff Dream like the pissy wet cat that he is and tell him to SHUSH while Dream goes all ragdoll. I also fully embraced a horny headcanon of mine where Dream is more sensitive to physical touch in the Waking.

Shout out to @amahhi, because I picked little bits from our RP here and there for this. What can I say, we got a good Dream and Hob.

Edit 2.0: trying to get the blog unflagged, so the read more has the fic up to the spicy bits. Full fic is in the AO3 link 🙃

-----

It's been a very normal, mundane, and drab sort of day when Hob comes home at the end of it. There's the standard London drizzle tapping away at his window, transforming the world outside into a melting blur of darkening gray shot through with bright smears from electric street lights coming on one by one.

Electric lights. Brilliant. Literally brilliant. They're all going to pay for it in the long run of course, but fuck is it nice to just come home and flick a switch - like so - to light a room up.

There's a corpse on his sofa.

The corpse is on its back, arms rigid at its side. Its skin has a drained, cold paleness with veins as gray as the current sky. The face is perfectly still and perfectly expressionless, with flat blue eyes open and unseeing towards the ceiling. The startling ghastliness of the corpse is offset by the soft black t-shirt, along with black pajama bottoms decorated with alarmingly cheerful blue stars.

This is also, increasingly, a normal part of his day.

"All right, love?" He asks, shutting the door behind him. The first time he came home to Dream lying out stiff and apparently lifeless in his flat there had been a bit more yelling and panicking, followed by careful explanations about what the unexpected sight of a pale and unmoving body with open, unseeing eyes showing up in a safe and comfortable space can do to someone who has been through a few wars.

It kept happening, which meant Dream did not actually understand. But now Dream always makes an effort to put his form into pajamas first, possibly with the logic that if he were dressed comfortably for sleep, then he couldn’t possibly look like a corpse. Which meant he was trying, even if severely misguided. It's more touching than it should be.

The corpse on the sofa routine all started when they became...whatever they are now. The best explanation Hob ever got was that a chunk of Dream’s duties involve delving into the vast unconsciousness of himself, sinking into the wild depths that were made of every dreaming mind that created him to make sure everything was flowing smoothly.

It was all very metaphysical in all the ways that Hob tries not to think about too much. When he compared it to a computer shutting down for maintenance, he got himself a curdled look of such offended disgust that he knew he was on the money. He compared it to sleep instead, which mollified Dream at the time.

In the past this deeper delving into himself was done from the throne room. Then Dream started showing up in Hob's flat every now and again, refusing to explain why. Hob isn't stupid, so he doesn't ask why after the first few times. Whatever the metaphysics of it, Dream wants to come here and lie on Hob's furniture being vulnerable in the Waking world, despite all his grumblings about said world. Dream may not be able to explain the want for a space outside of work to go to, but Hob gets the difference between grading papers at his office and doing it in his living room. The fact that Dream seeks this space out makes Hob's chest go all fluttery and hot, and he will never question it ever.

It's why he doesn't make a fuss about the fact that Dream hasn't figured out that he looks like a fucking horror movie prop when he does it.

“Obviously.” Dream rumbles in answer. His voice has a deep, slow resonance that's being dragged up from the darkest fathoms. It's a growling sneer, the sharp warning crack of a cliff face about to give. It says that asking things like “all right?” is the most low, simple mindedly human thing Hob could ask, because there is no reason Dream would be otherwise.

“That sort of day then? Budge up.” Hob tosses his coat to the chair, which earns him an annoyed huff of a sound, and shoves a space for himself by Dream's hip, which earns him a growl.

“What. Sort of. Day?” Dream asks darkly. He turns his head, slowly. His movements are always slow when he's coming up from his not-sleep, and Hob is always fascinated by the process. He imagines Dream reeling himself back from wherever he has gone to, a long thread of his consciousness spooling up to refill the shape of his body. The waxy deadness in his skin doesn't exactly liven up, but it becomes more luminous. The stiffness melts from carved stone to…well not relaxed but something with a bit more give to it than stone anyway. The eyes change the most. The empty flatness of them turns into a clear, bright blue. They're flashing with liquid fire when Dream looks up at Hob, even if the rest of him is still an angrily stiff bunch of sharp edges.

“Not a great one, I think.” Hob leans, propping his shoulders on the back of the couch with Dreams waist and arm against the small of his back. Dream turns his head with his jaw clenched, and Hob reaches out, brushing the backs of his curled fingers in the barest caress over the plane of Dreams cheek.

There's a nearly imperceptible tremor in the core of the body he's leaned himself against. The corners of Dreams mouth tightens, and his eyes flare, like that lightest touch has opened a raw nerve.

“Maybe the sort of day I could help you forget?” Hob murmurs. He hasn't decided exactly what he's offering when he offers it. They could just stay here, watching some meaningless picture while Dream stays pressed between Hob and the sofa, and Hob combs his fingers through that downy soft black hair until all the tension melts from him. Hob could make that milky, sugary lavender infusion Dream is fond of and kiss him slow and sweet for hours. They could have a wild shag or the easiest love making. Whatever will help ease the coiled tension that’s churning just beneath Dream’s carefully still surface. Anything.

The caress continues. Hob traces his fingertips up the edge of Dreams cheekbone and sinks them back into the wild black hair to cradle around that impossible skull. There's a suspicious scraping sound down by his hip.

“That better not be you clawing up my upholstery.” He hums, rubbing his thumb over the hairline at Dreams temple. “Come on love, what do you want?”

“What. I. Want?”

The stillness breaks. A hand snaps up and clamps around Hob's wrist. Dream surges up, sitting awkwardly with Hob nearly in his lap, his eyes flashing dark and his teeth bared close to Hob's mouth.

“You would offer yourself then? A sacrifice to what you would call a bad day?” Dream asks, his voice dropping into a hard scrape. There's a sharp prick against the skin of Hob's wrist as claws grow from Dreams fingers. “You ask for what I want?”

“Obviously.” Hob repeats Dream’s earlier answer back at him. This is always the most uncertain part, when Dream is in one of these moods. This night could go a million different ways, but Hob finds himself keen for any of them. Any that keep Dream right here with all of his attention, snarling or otherwise, right on Hob that is.

There's a hiss of sound, sharp and explosive. The sharp pricks against Hob's skin turn into bright bursts of hot pain, and he feels the wet slide of blood down the inside of his arm. There's a shudder, and Dream suddenly curls down against him with his forehead ground into the curve of Hob's shoulder at the base of his throat. It's an awkward reach, but Hob brings his far arm around to run his palm up the knobbed curve of Dreams spine.

“It's alright, love.” He whispers. The slump is not a loosening at all. Hob can feel the jerky tension in every line of Dream’s body, and his love feels like a spring winding tighter and tighter.

“No.” Dream spits. “You ask what I want. The things I want. You are foolhardy. Brash. You understand nothing. Ignorant.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, my Dream.” Hob keeps running his hand up and down Dream’s spine, thinking that he really is wound up if those are the best insults he can come up with.

There's a bizarre, inhuman sound. A sharp, jagged, snarling grind. Dream's other hand splays against his ribs, vibrating and sharp. The Endless goes quiet again, and Hob keeps stroking his back, happy to wait for whatever comes next.

“The way you say my name.” Dream whispers. “I want to open your ribs and make you say it. I want to pull each apart, one by one, like the petals of the rarest flower. I want to splay them, pin them. Expose the secret parts of you. I want to see how your lungs fill and shrink when you say my name, when you scream it. I want to see how your heart beats when you dream of me. I want to put my hand around it and feel the precious fluttering of it when I punch my fingers through the chambers. I want to feel it burst like the most wondrous fruit plucked out and crushed in my grasp. I want to feel the pockets of your lungs crackle against my palms when they fill with air. I want you to be screaming my name when I do it.”

His hand moves as he talks. Long fingers drag along the valleys between Hob's ribs, slow and methodical. They're also shaking, a sharp electric buzzing of claws through Hob's button down shirt.

That sort of night then?

“If you're trying to scare me off, you’ve already done that sort of thing in a few of my more exciting dreams.” Hob points out.

“I want to do it here.” It isn't even a whisper now. It's just an exhale shaped into words. Hob notices that it isn't a threatening snarl, or the low purr of Dream enjoying the build up to a grand old violently nightmarish time. There's a shivery dread. A horror deeper than the obvious goriness of it all.

“You fantasize about killing me?” Hob asks, curious. Ok fine, it wouldn't actually kill him, but it would feel like it.

“You can't die.”

It's an immediate response. Breathless. Rapturous. Terrified. Hob is starting to get the idea of what's going on here.

“Scariest thing you've said to me, that was.” He observes with some interest. It's true, after all. He's just learned that his immortality fuels his love's apparent wish to vivisect him in the plane where they both know it would hurt the worst, where the violence of it would be all of the bloody screaming reality without the cushioned fantasy of the Dreaming. Dream admitted that in a way that was clear that he thinks about it regularly. It is, objectively, a scary thing to learn. There it is. Horrifying and alarming. Huh! How about that.

He doesn’t pretend to be surprised at himself when his cock twitches against his jeans. The only thing he isn’t sure of is if it’s the violent idea itself, or the fact that Dream is very obviously holding himself back from affectionately mauling him right this instant.

He's still petting his hand up and down Dream's spine, and he can feel the way his love bunches in on himself with a cracked whining sound that makes Hob's chest ache like his heart’s already been torn and exposed for the soft tender thing it is. There are talons still scraping anxiously at Hob's ribcage. There are still claws dug into his arm, but with less force than before. Dream is tense, already in a state, and in the fine process of working himself up into what could possibly be a legendary tantrum of self loathing.

“Right.” Hob declares, coming to a decision. “First thing: put a pin in that idea. I have to sit on it a bit and work up to it, but I did just get a little hard there, so it's not entirely off the table. I don't think that's what you want right now though.”

Dream froze with shock halfway through that, and Hob knows the best course of action is to keep moving before that impossible head has enough time to tangle itself up in a new way. The hand on Dream's spine sweeps up and grabs Dream by the nape, hard.

There is an explosive hiss of incredulous shock when Hob yanks him back. The face that Hob pulls off of his shoulder has wide obsidian eyes and a snarl with a wicked set of fangs. He holds the nightmare scruffed, meeting glittering dark eyes while his heart pounds with what isn't nearly enough actual fear.

“You want me to stop you.”

Dream’s eyes widen further, the hand on Hob's wrist drops lifeless to the sofa. Hob watches a burst of pink bloom across the unnatural white of his cheeks before the response is wrestled back down. Dream’s eyes narrow, but he's watching Hob closely.

“You are. Incapable. Of stopping me.” He growls. It's not a threat, just reality. Which is how most of Dream’s threats go.

“You're going to let me though, I think.” Hob says. He digs his fingers a little into the hard muscle of the back of Dream's neck, and takes several mental notes on the way the nightmare’s head lolls back and the hand on his ribs goes still. Hob turns where he's sitting to bring one leg up on the sofa, to bring himself closer to the odd monster he loves so dearly. He pulls Dream further, already feeling dizzy at the way the jagged, black eyed nightmare with his luminous white skin and razor teeth goes pliantly until he's leant back, practically being dipped with Hob over him.

“I think you need to let go, love. But you don't like what you might do if you let go.” He says with a smile. “How about we try things my way hm? You let go, but you hand the reins to me. Let me take charge.”

Dreams face goes through some fascinating shifts. He gazes up at Hob with such a raw, wounded want that it looks painful before the expression flinches when Hob's other hand comes up to stroke his cheek again. There's a jerk though Dream's limbs, and Hob is sure the joints are doing things that would make him feel queasy if he looked.

“You…here?” Dream asks, and his voice is thin and sharp and shivery. Hob knows why Dream’s clarifying that, and why here is making Dream writhe and flush with his mouth stretched a little too far on teeth that weren't meant for a human jawline. Hob knows that things feel different for Dream, when he's in the Waking. He's a creature of thought and idea, and touches in the more physical Waking world come across stronger than he's used to, more overwhelming. It’s not that Dream never bottoms, or even that he never submits. But it’s always in Dream’s own realm, where his submission isn’t really submission at all, but a coy play where he acts up the part of a sweet wilting fae lover or a wanton hedonist. He has a harder time staying in control of the situation, when they’re in Hob’s world, where there are less heated fantasies for him to sink himself into.

And the Dreamlord would never admit it, but Hob has noticed the way he keeps showing up in the Waking world to initiate things, even if it's just to cuddle up against Hob and find ways to get petted until he turns into a shivering puddle of nerves. But cuddling here is one thing, this is something else, something new.

“Here.” Hob nods, stroking his thumb slow and firm over Dream's nape, feeling the little vibration that goes down Dream's spine from that point. “I need you to say you want me to though, ok?”

That gets a furious, low hiss of a growl. Dream’s eyes flash and he snaps his mouth full of razor teeth with the sound like a bear trap. Hob lets him squirm and hiss and shudder. He's always such a trembling little thing, like there is too much going on inside for his outer shell to hold in. One day, Hob is going to properly catalog all of the ways his cosmic power of a lover shivers like a leaf when he thinks he's keeping himself all grim and stoic.

“You. Wish me …complicit.” Dream hisses, the words grinding out from his chest, as there's no way the wide maw of needle teeth is currently capable of speaking that clearly. “You would have me voice it. Admit to it. To be brought low and ragged.”

“I want your consent,” Hob huffs a small laugh, which might not be the best response but God does he love this proud twit, “you pretty, deranged little thing. I'm not doing anything if you don't actually want me to, and we can stop at any point. It's important to me that you get that.”

“My consent,” Dream spits, and this time there's a tearing sound when he does start clawing up Hob's upholstery, “is that I am allowing it.”

On paper, true enough. Dream is thrashing and snarling and gnashing his monstrous teeth with eyes like flaming pits. He's also kept in place by the weak, flesh and blood human hand holding him by the back of the neck. The only reason Hob is able to scruff him and have his head tilted pliantly back to expose the long white throat, is because Dream is letting it happen.

“I think you would allow me to do a lot of things you don't want me to.” Hob says gently. The thrashing stills, the snarling quiets, Dream's teeth finally shrink down into more standard shapes.

“There we are.” Hob breathes, smiling. His chest feels like it may burst, like Dream may end up getting his dark little fantasy after all. It's more than any man could deserve, seeing the way Dream goes quiet and panting, eyes fixed wide and blue again as they stare up at Hob. He keeps the hold on Dreams neck, and smoothes the other hand back through Dreams hair.

Dream makes a thin, fragile sound, eyes flashing black before returning to their clear blue.

“I need to know you actually want this, darling.” Hob explains again. “Not just that you're allowing it. I can't go thinking that you might just be going along with what you think I want from you.”

There's a shift of movement, more of a little squirm than the furious thrashing from a few seconds ago. Dream clenches his jaw together and stares, eyes glittering with new wetness. Christ. Hob is going to get a complex. It can't be good for his ego, having Dream like this.

“Yes.” Dream finally whispers, swallowing thickly. He even nods with little jerky movements against Hob's grip. “I want…what it is, you are planning. Here. In the Waking. I want you to have me. Your way.”

Hob rewards him with a hard kiss, mostly because if he doesn't get his mouth on those quivering pink lips he might explode. Dream goes lax with a whining sound that is absolutely going to give Hob a complex. Plush lips part immediately under his, as sweet as anything. Then teeth flash against his mouth, still sharp and wild but followed fast by Dream’s tongue lapping hungrily at the bite. There are hands clawing at him again, pawing at his back, twisting in his hair, digging into his hips. Dream is doing some impossible wiggling and Hob realizes that there is more than one pair of legs hitching around his hips and tangling between his own legs. It must look like he's snogging an enthusiastic spider.

“Enough of that.” He chides, pushing a hand on Dream's chest. Teeth sink into his lip again, and there's a low growl when Hob pulls his head back so Dream can't start trying to get his tongue down Hob's throat. Or trying to affectionately bite his lips off. “Shush. Lie back, and settle down dearest. Christ, you're all wound up.”

Another small push does the trick. Dream goes down with a little huff when his back hits the sofa. He’s suddenly as meek as a kitten, if that kitten had blood on its lips and a sharp intrigued glint to its eyes. Rather like a kitten then, actually.

Not that Hob is thinking much about kittens. He's far more focused on the way Dream’s skin has gained a more human flush to it, on the curious little chirrup noise that comes from him. He's looking up at Hob with swollen pink lips and his eyes still blue, but the dark blue of a deep ocean. The shirt he's wearing is stretched at the collar, revealing the tantalizing dip of his clavicles, and his ruffled hair is the most adorable thing Hob could imagine. It's such a flip from the snarling monstrous thing Hob had scruffed less than a minute ago, and all of it is so wonderfully Dream. Objectively terrifying in his violence, objectively sexier than sin.

“You're horrible for my ego.” Hob declares, sitting up kneeling between long legs that are still clad in the damn cartoon star pajamas. Dream answers this with a velvety pleased sound, and Hob feels legs bent around his hips and hitched up his waist and one bends a knee up on his shoulder-

“Ah-ah, stick with two.” Hob taps at one of Dream’s thighs before getting to work unbuttoning his shirt enough to tug it up over his head. “We're in my world right now, so we’re doing things my way. With a human shape. And stop eyeballing my ribcage, thanks. I told you we're putting a pin in that.”

He can hear the displeased hissing sound, and decides to give Dream a pass on that. There are times where words seem to lack the correct expressions for the Prince of Stories, and he has an astounding repertoire of inhuman, and even inorganic, sounds to fall back on. Despite his orders to stop with the rib stuff, there are long hands on his sides as soon as his shirt is tossed away. When he looks down, Dream’s eyes are half lidded and dark, fully fixed with stark hunger on Hob’s exposed torso.

There's a scrape of claw, smoother than before, and the bright line over his side goes right to his prick. It is…so tempting…to change his mind and tell Dream to have at it. Just to see what would happen, to see how it would feel to get torn apart by something that loves him so much. Except there's a little tense pinching at Dreams mouth, even as his eyes darken further and his hands spread over Hob's ribs to feel them expand with each breath.

“Hands to yourself.” Hob decides for both their sakes. He taps a finger between Dream’s eyes in chastisement, and nearly loses that finger when teeth snap up towards it. Dream is fast, but he's used to getting away with things, so there's only a surprised hitch of sound when Hob grabs under his jaw and shoves his head back.

“My way.” Hob reminds him, surprised at how low and rough his own voice comes out.

FULL FIC ON AO3

#dreamling #my fic #dom gadling is here to be the gentlest mildest service top #dream is a weird eldritch cat

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shiorimakibawrites · 9 days

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Cat Man Do - Part I (Daredevil Fan Fic)

This started out as a one-shot but has just kept growing. It will be at least two parts long now.

Cat Man Do

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Secondary Pairings: Foggy Nelson x Marci Stahl, implied Karen Page x Frank Castle Word Count: 9600 Summary: Matt Murdock is having a bad night. He has been turned into a cat with a blizzard is coming in. Lucky for him, you came walking by. And you love cats. Warnings: Animal transformation, idiots in love, unresolved sexual tension, spicy dream (voyeurism kink, office sex, fingering, dirty talk), referenced sexual acts (female receiving oral sex, , fingering, female masturbation, hand-job, PIV sex, office sex) General Masterlist Matt Murdock Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza, @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment, @bellaxgiornata, @flynnethenerd Also posted on AO3

Part 1

Nothing about the situation seemed all that unusual. Man putting his hands where they were very much not wanted. Victim’s tearful pleading only being met with a slap and a harshly whispered demand to shut up. Sour odor of fear. Coopery scent of blood through it didn’t smell like human blood. Herbs, both familiar ones used in cooking but a few that he didn’t recognize. The only peculiarity was the scent of ozone clinging to the man.

Matt yanked the man away from his victim who, rather sensibly, took the opportunity to flee. At first, he thought that the fight would be short. Very short. The man obviously didn’t know how to fight. He heard the distinctive cracking of bone, then the man desperately shouted something. The smell of ozone increased and suddenly there was . . . something between him and the man. Something he didn’t recognized – hitting it felt like the oddest combination of a pillow, cling film and static electricity. Whatever it was softened his punches to the point that he doubted the man was even feeling them.

Before he could puzzle that mystery out, the man began to speak again. Matt didn’t recognize the language but he recognized the cadence of a chant, the anticipatory menace. The sharp scent of ozone began to rise again. Pressure not unlike the air right before a lightning strike raised the hair on his body. Instinct screamed danger, threat. He couldn’t say why but he just knew that he couldn’t let this man finish whatever he was saying . . .

The man’s inexperience with fighting came back to bit him. Whatever he was doing to protect his torso, it didn’t extend down to his legs. Matt dropped down to use a low kick to sweep his legs out from under him. The follow-up throw kick to his head showed that he was also too stupid to protect his head. The man hit the ground hard and didn’t move.

Matt listened, then nodded to himself. Unconscious. Good. He opened a pouch on his belt and removed some zip ties. He secured the man, then send off a quick call to 911. He scaled the fire escape of the closest building and started putting some distance between himself and those approaching sirens.

He decided to call it a night. It was after one in the morning. He had work tomorrow. Besides there had been very little crime tonight. Probably too cold. And a big snowstorm had been predicted. When they closed up the office, Foggy said sky was completely covered with heavy dark clouds that made the twilight almost as dark as nighttime. Which matched with the shifts in pressure that he associated with oncoming storms. The smell of snow had been building all night. It hadn’t started snowing yet but it would any minute now.

But before he turned in, he would do a loop to make sure his people were safe and sound. One by one, he checked off the list. Maggie and the others at St. Agnes, Brett, Foggy and Marci, Jessica, and Karen. All good. Last but certainly not least was you, the assistant that he and Foggy had hired so Karen could concentrate on law school, by the virtue that your apartment being rather close to his own.

Matt had almost forgotten about the oddities of his last encounter when he started feeling . . . off. Lightheaded, dizzy, like he had gotten clocked in the head without his helmet on. Except he hadn’t, not tonight. Or other time recently. At first the feeling was mild, easily shrugged off. But soon it could no longer be ignored. When his world on fire dangerously flickered and he misjudged the distance between two buildings, he decided that maybe walking on the ground would be safer.

It was in the sense that he was no longer at risk of falling six or more stories. But he was so dizzy, it felt like the ground was swaying under his feet. It was nauseating. Worse, his world on fire was flickering dangerously. It was hard to tell where he was, where the buildings were, where the sidewalk ended . . . He took out his billy clubs, extended and snapped them together. It was too short to really substitute for his cane but it would do until he could get somewhere safer.

It took far longer than he was comfortable with but he managed to orient himself. He knew where he is. It was the faint odor of old smoke that helped clue him in. That building that was torched this summer. Not far from his apartment but another wave of dizziness warned him that he wouldn’t make it that far. But your apartment was very close. There was only one building between his location and your building. He would probably make it before he passed out.

This was not at all how he wanted to tell you about Daredevil but there was nothing he could do about that.

Placing his hand on the burnt building to help keep him oriented, he walked toward. He had just reached the corner when a new sensation arose. Sudden, burning pain. He bit down on his lip, trying not to scream. He collapsed, letting out a scream as he felt his bones start to bent and twist like he was doll being pulled apart by an angry child. Then everything went still and silent . . .

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You were walking home. It was later than you preferred to be out. Much later. Especially when you had to work the next day. But your best friend’s boyfriend had broken up with her. Via Twitter. So she needed someone to bring over the ice cream and the booze. So you ignored the weather reports of the big snowstorm and headed out. First to the store, then to her place.

You held her while she cried. You listened and nodded while she vented and swore off men. You both ate way too much ice cream. You didn’t ended up drinking much. Mostly because you’d rather not be hangover at work. But also because the store hadn’t much selection in the booze department – apparently the delivery truck hadn’t shown up. So said booze was limited to one six-pack of wine coolers and a good-sized bottle of peppermint schnapps.

Which wasn’t ideal. Especially since your bestie didn’t really like peppermint schnapps. Said it always tasted too much like mouthwash for her. Which was fair. But after downing three of the wine coolers to your one, she decided to give the schnapps another chance . . . it might be the wine coolers and the wine she finished earlier talking but she said it wasn’t half bad.

You had a little but found peppermint too strong of a flavor all on its own. The mint-chocolate chip ice cream was more your speed.

You loved your bestie but you were glad that she had finally fallen asleep. She had offered to let you stay at her place. But she snoozed like a chainsaw when she was drunk. Also you had tried sleeping on that couch before. It had been uncomfortable. There was a broken something or other in the middle that had poked you in the kidneys all night. So you appreciated the offer but no thank you.

You were walking as fast as you could. Which wasn’t very fast. The sidewalk was rather precarious right now. It had snowed last week. Almost all of the snow had turned into gray slush but it was cold enough that several patches had frozen into near-invisible puddles. Puddles that were very slick.

You had slipped and fallen several times this week. You had started carrying clean, dry clothes in your work bag so you didn’t have to sit in wet clothes all day. Your poor butt had more than one bruise. It would have more bruises but if your boss was nearby when you slipped, he caught you.

Your very hot boss Matt. Not that your other boss, Foggy, wasn’t pretty. He was. Just in a totally different way. But the big factor was that Foggy was engaged, to someone he very obviously loved dearly. You weren’t that kind of girl. But Matt was single. Therefore you were free to admire his good looks and daydream about him all you wanted.

Which you did. Often. Maybe too much. You were pretty sure, with the exception of Matt himself, that everyone who frequented the office had caught you checking out his ass. It wasn’t your fault. He had the best looking ass in the tri-state area. Every suit he wore flattered that ass. He also, quite unfairly, bought shirts that were a size too small. The buttons strained to contain those big muscles . . .

‘Stop it,’ you scolded yourself. Walking at one in the morning was not the time to start daydreaming about your boss and speculating that he could hold you up against the wall while he . . .

You shook your head, feeling yourself flush despite the cold pinching your cheeks. You needed to keep your mind on the here and now, eyes and ears alert for any signs of trouble. You might be only a short distance from home. This might be Hell’s Kitchen where the Devil prowled nighttime streets for nefarious characters but . . . that didn’t mean you should act recklessly. Something could still happen. And while being saved by Daredevil sounded very exciting, it also sounded really scary.

A cry pierced the night air. It sent your heart racing, hands gripping the strap of your backpack while your eyes frantically darted around trying to locate the source of the cry. You couldn’t see anything. The street was eerily deserted for Manhattan, even for this time of night. Maybe it was too cold. The whistling wind was biting, even in your thick winter coat. Even when the air was still, it was beyond frigid. If it was above freezing, you’d eat your hat. Without mustard.

You kept looking but it was so dark. There had been some kind of problem with the streetlights on your block this week. The news said something about a short. You hadn’t really been listening. But the end result was that at least half the streetlights weren’t working. The building that had gutted by a fire was black and silent, looming over the street like giant gargoyle. Many of the windows in the surrounding buildings were dark. The few that were lit did very little to illuminate the darkness.

Then you heard it again. But this time you recognized the noise. It was cat making that distressed yowl. And it sounded like it was coming from the side of that burned building. While the building gave you all of the creeps, you loved animals. Better than you liked most people. You couldn’t just leave it here. Out here in the freezing cold with a blizzard on the way at best. Hurt or trapped at worst.

But to find that poor animal, you needed more light.

You reached into your bag and took out your phone. Dead. The battery was so low that the phone didn’t even try to turn on. You had forgotten to charge it. Again. What were you going to do . . . then you remembered the little flashlight on your key-chain. Something your mom had gotten you when she learn you were moving to big, scary New York City. It was a nice gesture but the cheap thing wasn’t very bright. But some light was better than no light. You pulled your keys out of your pocket and gripped the flashlight in your hand. With a soft click, it turned on.

As expected, it didn’t do much to pierce the gloom. But you walked toward the building anyway. The building looked even creepier and emptier up close. The crack-crunch of your boots on the thin sheets of ice and salt felt inordinately loud to you. Which only made your heart beat faster. You were starting to feel like you were in a horror movie. One of the dumb girls who ignores all the obvious signs of danger and gets chopped into pieces with an ax or something. Or one of the those people in the cold opening in an episode of Supernatural, going into creepy building blithely unaware that they just made themselves dinner . . .

Something crashed to the ground with a loud metal clang. You shrieked, wildly swinging around your flashlight. What . . . then you saw it. A rat messing with a can below a window with a row of similar cans on the still . . . You squinted, cans of food. The kind that wasn’t particularly tasty but cheap and filling. Both of which was more important than flavor if you didn’t have much money. And infinitely better than no food at all.

“It’s just a rat,” you told yourself. “Calm down.”

As if in answer, the cat meowed again. It sounded close. You looked around . . . garbage bags that had been torn open and their contents scattered, piled up frozen slush, a dumpster. Wait, there was a flicker of movement on the other side of the dumpster. Giving a silent prayer that it wasn’t another rat (or something worse), you walked over. As you got closer, your nose wrinkled. The smell wasn’t nearly as ripe as it would be during the summer but it was by no means a pleasant aroma.

By your efforts were rewarded. On the other side and slightly behind the dumpster was a cat. You crouched down, not wanting to loom over the animal and scare it. It didn’t look very frightened right now – it wasn’t puffed up, it’s ears were perked up, or hissing at you. But you’d like to keep it that way. In your experience, a scared cat was a biting cat.

You looked over the cat as best you could. It didn’t look hurt. Just cold and a little wet. Probably wouldn’t need a vet tonight. Beautiful cat, it looked a lot like a Havana Brown with a thick-looking coat of brown fur and that muscular little body. Smaller ears through you were used to seeing. All the Havanas you had seen had those adorably large ears like a Siamese.

The cat remained calm during this inspection, just sitting on something leathery and dark red lying on the ground.

“Hello there,” you said, your voice soft and low. Animals might not understand words but they did understand tone. You carefully extended your hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t have to scratch me.”

The cat meowed but allowed you to touch it. You ran your hands over the cat. It didn’t react like your searching hands had found anything tender. Still you frowned.

This cat looked cared for. Had obviously been socialized from a young age. Healthy coat and well-fed all added up to beloved pet. If it . . . he, you corrected after another look, was a stray, he hadn’t been one for very long.

“Did you get lost?” you asked the cat. “Or did someone abandon you out here in the cold?”

Despite your best efforts to avoid, you couldn’t keep the anger out of your voice at that second possibility. Nights this cold could easily be fatal, even more so with that blizzard rolling in. especially for a pet that was used to warm shelter during harsh weather. You just couldn’t understand the sheer cruelty of doing something like that. If someone didn’t want a cat anymore, fine. There were far more humane options than abandoning them to die in the winter streets.

Well lost or abandoned, you weren’t leaving this little beauty out here to freeze. “It’s awfully cold out here, kitty cat. Did you want to come home with me? At least for the night?”

Of course, your only answer was more meows. But they sounded positive so you decided to take them as a yes. You didn’t have a carrier with you. But your backpack would work as substitute. You opened up your coat just enough to remove your scarf which you piled into the bottom. Your previous fur babies liked something soft to snuggle into when transported like this. It would get your scarf dirty but it was washable.

But when you placed the cat in the backpack and tried to zip it, the cat jumped out. It didn’t run away. Just went over and sat on the red thing. After this happened two more times, you let out an exasperated sigh. Looking down at the cat, looking up at you from its apparently beloved red thing. Maybe you should purrito him . . . then you did a double-take. Blinked. Rubbed your eyes. But it didn’t change.

You had only ever seen it in grainy photos on the news or in the papers. But you still recognized it. The red leather armor of Daredevil. You supposed it could be a replica. Every hero in this city had fans who did cosplay. Daredevil was no different. But if this was a costume, someone had spent a lot of time and money making it.

Your earlier frown returned. No fan who had gone to all that effort would leave this by a dumpster to get ruined. And if it wasn’t a replica but the real thing . . . you couldn’t think of why Daredevil would leave his suit by a dumpster either. Like the costume, leaving it outside in this wet weather could severely damage it.

“Curious and curiousier,” you murmured to yourself. A look uncovered the horned helmet, gloves, and armed boots nearby. Not the sticks, however. There was a holster on leg where they ought to be. You cast your flashlight around and spied something red laying a short distant away. You went there and discovered the missing sticks.

Or rather a staff since it seemed to be be only one. It looked rather long for that thigh holster and you could have sworn there was supposed to be two . . . but maybe you were wrong. You never actually seen him. Just pictures. And Daredevil didn’t exactly stand still in excellent lighting to be photographed with a high-quality camera.

You picked it up and frowned. The staff seemed rather heavy. It wasn’t so heavy that you couldn’t swing it around easily but it was weighty. A person could do some real damage with this. It was not a prop. It was a real weapon.

“Holy shit,” you said, staring at the staff with more than a little awe. Because as crazy as it sounded, you were starting to think this was really Daredevil’s staff and that was really his suit back there. But you had little time to bask in that wonder. Because a big flake of snow landed on the stick. Followed by another and another. You looked up.

It had started snowing. You hurried back over to the suit, carrying the staff. You pulled your scarf out of your backpack, looping it around your neck for the moment. You picked up the suit and started getting into your pack. Assuming he didn’t leave it here in purpose, Daredevil was going to want this back and probably would appreciate not having it damaged by the wet weather.

How you were going to get to him was a problem for Future You.

Also it seemed like the cat wasn’t coming without the suit. Why he was so obsessed with it was another mystery for Future You to untangle. When you weren’t outside in a blizzard. You managed to fit most of it into your pack, which was a little tricky since you couldn’t put down the flashlight but you managed. You zipped it closed, glad that you had grabbed your hiking pack earlier. You’d never be able to fit this much of the suit in your regular pack. The staff didn’t fit. You’d have to carry it. Hopefully you wouldn’t run into anyone before reaching your apartment.

You propped the stick against the side of the dumpster before swing the pack onto your shoulders. You left the hip belt undone. Daredevil’s suit wasn’t anywhere near as heavy as the full pack for a long hike.

“Okay, Trouble,” you said, reaching for the cat. “Let’s go.”

The cat meowed but allowed you to pick him up and place him against your chest. His front paws rested on your shoulder while you supported his body with your arm. The hand was still holding your key-chain flashlight. Which would make holding onto him if he got squirmy difficult. You gave him a stern look. “No jumping out of my arms or being a wiggle worm, Trouble. Or I will purrito you with my scarf.”

He meowed again. It sounded like an objection.

“Don’t meow me, mister. You are clearly trouble, trouble, trouble,” you said, almost singing those last words. You blamed your best friend. I Knew You Were Trouble was one of her favorite songs. Therefore you had heard it several times tonight and the lyrics were kinda stuck in your head.

The cat made a grumpy noise but stayed where he was and didn’t scratch. So you just laughed as you collected the staff and headed toward home.

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Carried in your arms, Matt suppressed an irritated huff. He wasn’t upset with you. He was upset about the situation.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he had been turned into cat. He had an idea. That scumbag he left knocked out and left tied up for the police. Even if the only explanation for that thing that shielded the man from his blows and turning him into a cat was magic. Danny had sworn up and down that magic was real. His heart had been steady as drum but Matt hadn’t entirely believed him.

Or rather he didn’t want to believe him. People developing random powers – sometimes from exposure to chemicals or radiation – and aliens was enough weirdness for one planet. Earth didn’t need magic to be real too.

But Matt tried not ignore reality when it smacked him in the face. Someone had spoke some words and now he was cat. Magic was real. He would accept that and hope that other stuff straight out of a fantasy or horror novels weren’t also real. The last thing he needed running around his city was vampires. Or dinosaurs. Or something equally ridiculous.

He also had no idea how he was going to get himself back to being a human. His only working theory was that maybe, just maybe, Danny could do something. Or would know someone who could do something about it. It was long shot but he was the only one that Matt knew who knew anything about magic.

Assuming he could get in contact with Danny in the first place. Rather big assumption there. Until and unless he could, his only other option was wait and see if the spell wore off on its own. Matt didn’t like this plan. For one, he had absolutely no idea if the spell would wear off at all. Or if does, how long that would take.

A few hours would be ideal but when was Matt ever that lucky?

No, it was much more likely that he would be stuck like this for days. If not longer. Foggy was going to worry. And when he couldn’t find or contact Matt, he was going to get scared. And when he checked Matt’s apartment and found the suit gone along with Matt, he was going to assume the worst.

He hated the thought of putting Foggy through that. But there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t turn himself back. He couldn’t talk. These paws couldn’t hold a paw. He might be able to type but unless you had a braille keyboard or a refreshable braille display, he couldn’t tell what keys he was pushing. Randomly hitting keys was unlikely to produce a coherent message that would clue you into the fact he wasn’t a cat.

The only semi-positive he could find about this situation was that you had been walking near enough to the dumpster he had collapsed behind to hear his meowing. Through Matt couldn’t say he was thrilled that you were out this late. It was dangerous. Granted, most criminals had seemingly opted not to be out in the freezing cold but not all.

His heart had lodged in his throat when you had shrieked. His mind racing how he had missed someone beside you being outside and nearby. What was he going to do, he couldn’t protect you like this . . .

It was immense relief to discover it was just a rat.

But despite his desire to get yourself somewhere warmer and safer, he was unwilling to leave his suit behind. One person impersonating him and slaughtering innocent people was already one too many for his tastes.

Furthermore replacing it would be a headache. Jacobson wouldn’t be happy to learn the suit he had designed and made for Matt had been left behind a dumpster. Which was fair. He wouldn’t like someone treating his work in such a chevalier matter either. He might fix or replace it but in the meantime, Matt would be back to the black suit.

Which tended to make Claire and Foggy unhappy. They preferred he fight crime wearing something more protective. Which Matt couldn’t really argue with. Nor that the red suit was warmer than the black. Which was nice this time of year but not so nice in August.

He had felt a little silly hopping in and out of your backpack like that but it accomplished his goal. The suit hadn’t been left behind.

You had recognized the suit, of course. And seemed to realize that it was the real thing, not one of the costumes his fans made. Well, Foggy claimed he had fans who dressed up like him for something called Super Con. He hadn’t been lying but . . . why? Didn’t people find him scary? Too violent? Why not someone nicer? Like Spider-Man? Sure, he was snarky and a smartass kid but otherwise he oozed friendliness . . .

Warm air hitting his fur startled him but not as much as realizing that he was coated in snow. He hadn’t even noticed. Had he really been that much in his head? Apparently.

“No jumping down yet, Trouble,” you said to him, the arm holding him shifting a little. “We’re not quite home yet. I will still purrito you.”

Purrito? That was second time you had said that word. He didn’t know what it meant and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

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Closing and locking your door behind you was a relief. Besides the fact that you were carrying was likely the real Daredevil suit (which was probably illegal in some fashion), the snow was really coming down. Even the distance between the dumpster and your building was very short, it was getting close to whiteout conditions by the time you arrived.

You propped the staff against the wall before kneeling down to let the cat go. He didn’t go far. Curious. Cats often hide when in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people. Despite the fact he left you carry him without any trouble, you still kinda expected the cat to make a beeline for under your couch. Or your bed. But nope, just sat at the edge of entrance way, in a growing puddle of melting snow.

You quickly took off your pack and winter gear. The pack, the coat, and gloves were both waterproof so they were more or less fine. But your scarf and hat were just as wet as the cat. You’d have to hang them up in the bathroom to drip dry. Later. First, you needed to get the cat dry. Then get both of you warm.

After taking off your boots, you went and grabbed a towel from the stack still sitting on the coffee table. You had been in the middle of putting away your laundry – something along with folding it that you often procrastinated – when your best friend had called crying. You checked but the cat still hadn’t moved from his spot. You walked over to him and knelt down.

“Let’s get you dry,” you said and started towel-drying him. He was remarkably tolerate of this process. Marshmallow (may she rest in peace) would have been singing you the song of her people. Despite the fact, as a Persian, she had been groomed literally her entire life. Pumpkin or Oreo (may they rest in peace) would have tried to fight with the towel.

You had long ago developed the habit of talking to your cats. It made your apartment feel less lonely. So you didn’t think anything of telling him how much better behaved he was compared to those three of your previous fur babies.

“Trying to prove you aren’t trouble, trouble, trouble?” you asked. The cat meowed as if in answer. You laughed and checked on his coat. It was as dry as you could get it without using a blow dryer. But with the exception of Marshmallow, you had yet to meet a cat who didn’t try to run away from the thing making the scary, painfully loud noise.

And that was because Marshmallow couldn’t hear the scary noise. To her, it just warm air blowing on her which she had seemed to find wonderful.

Despite all that drama, you missed Marshmallow, Pumpkin and Oreo. Maybe it was time for new furry friend. Maybe this one, you thought, petting the cat’s fur. It was soft as velvet. In the better light of your apartment, you could see the reddish tones to the over dark brown color.

“If you don’t already have a home,” you said, thinking out loud. “Maybe I should call you Cinnamon. It matches with the color of your coat. But Trouble is so just perfect . . .”

The newly dubbed Trouble meowed. You laughed again. You couldn’t help it. He sounded so grumpy.

After another moment of consideration, you decided against the blow dryer. Thanks to the thickness of his coat, he hadn’t gotten wet down to the skin. He probably wouldn’t get matted if you let him air dry for the rest.

You mopped up the puddle on the floor with the same towel, then hung it up in the bathroom along with your hat and scarf. You walked deeper into the apartment, into your bedroom. There you retrieved your heating pad, the comforter from your bed, and one of the extra blankets from the top of the closet. It was time for part two – getting warmed up.

You carried the load out to the living room. The comforter was sat on one cushion but you made a little nest with the heating pad and blanket on the adjoining seat. Trouble seemed pretty comfortable being close to you but you couldn’t assume that he was a lap cat. You turned on the pad and went back to him

He still hadn’t moved very away from the entrance. Peculiar. You’d think a cat this confident would have started exploring. Cats are curious. Maybe he was more nervous than you thought. Through you’d think a nervous cat would be hiding somewhere. But Trouble wasn’t hiding and he didn’t run away from you. And you picked him up, his body wasn’t stiff. No tension in the muscles. He didn’t go limp like a Ragdoll but was still relaxed in your hands.

Hmmm . . . maybe his (previous) home was one where he regularly met strangers? Like he was a shop cat or something like that. Or his (previous) owner worked somewhere that allowed people to bring in their pets as long as they didn’t cause a disruption? Or traveled regularly like a show cat. He was pretty enough for a show cat. Any of those might explain why Trouble seemed so comfortable with a stranger in a strange place.

Or maybe he was just a people cat. Each cat was an individual after all.

You placed Trouble down in the nest. He didn’t immediately jump off. Which had been a possibility. Cats often didn’t like things that weren’t their idea. But this cat seemed willing to explore the nest instead of rejecting it outright. Giving everything a sniff, feeling the blanket under his paws. Not quite making biscuits but close.

Judging by the purring, Trouble seemed to be enjoying himself.

You would have loved to keep watching but you wanted something hot to drink. Normally you’d make coffee but it was already stupid late. Not the time to start drinking something with caffeine. So herbal tea it was. While the water heated, you remembered that you needed to charge your phone. But after that brief detour, you started shifting through your tin of herbal teas . . . what sounded good . . . you picked out the one calling itself Apple Spice.

You poured the water over the tea bag and enjoyed the rising aroma as the tea seeped. You couldn’t remember which spices were supposed to be in this tea. But it smelled like apple pie so you’d guess mostly cinnamon and nutmeg. Tasted more like apple cider than pie but you still enjoyed it. You carried your mug over the couch.

You sat the mug down on the coffee table for a moment so you could wrap yourself in the comforter and sit down. You pulled your legs up onto the couch under the comforter, shifting until you were sitting cross-legged. You leaned toward and grabbed the mug.

You had only taken a few sips before you felt paws on your leg. You looked down at Trouble. He was looking up at you beseechingly.

You smiled and lifted the edge of the comforter. “Come here, Trouble.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He crawled onto your lap, circling a few times before settling down. The low purr only got louder when your hand couldn’t resist the urge to pet. And scratch him behind the ears and under the chin. Despite the name you had given him, Trouble really was such a sweetheart. How could anyone abandon him on the streets to die? You just couldn’t imagine it . . .

‘Maybe,’ you thought. ‘It wasn’t on purpose. Maybe something happened to his humans . . .’

You yawned. You still didn’t know how Daredevil tied into this abandoned (or lost) cat. It was possible that was just a coincidence. That both Trouble and the suit just happened to be in the same place. But maybe the suit smelled familiar to the cat . . . maybe this was Daredevil’s cat . . .

“What would Daredevil name a cat?” you murmured to yourself. “Lucy Fur? Holy Terror? The Lord of Felines? Hiss the Devil-Cat?

A soft meow jerked you back to alertness before you could spill tea on yourself. But if you were falling asleep sitting up, you should put that mug down. You had drunk most of it. It was fine. You sat down the mug, leaned your head against the back of the couch. You just needed to rest your eyes. In a few minutes you’d tidy up, start unraveling those mysteries . . .

Just a few minutes . . .

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Matt listened as you fell into a deep sleep and contemplated life’s little ironies. When he had pictured laying on your lap, this was not the scenario he had in mind. It had been more like using your lap as a pillow while your hands ran through his hair. Sometimes the fantasy was a lazy afternoon where you two were wearing comfortable clothes and simply enjoying each other’s company.

Sometimes the fantasy turned dirty. One where the only clothing you were wearing was a shirt and panties. And he was unable to resist being so close to your core. Kissing and touching until you were squirming and his nose was filled with the scent of your arousal. Then he’d slide off the couch, then peeled off those panties hiding his prize. He’d kneel between your spread thighs and . . .

He shook his head. He couldn’t think about that. It was never going to happen. Before, he would have had a chance. You were attracted to him. More over, he had once (unintentionally) overheard you telling your friends that you liked him. In more ways in one. One of those was the ‘I want him to fuck me on his desk’ way. Your words, not his. And Matt would be liar if he said he hadn’t thought about exactly the same thing. Imagined your soft skin under his hands and your pretty moans in his ear while he buried himself deep inside you . . .

‘Never going to happen,’ he reminded himself. Even through you had also made it clear in that talk with your friends that you always dreamed being with him like (again quoting) ‘one of those disgusting adorable couples who snuggle every chance they get and give each other forehead kisses.’

But in his experience, people either interested in Matt Murdock or the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Not both. Never both. He didn’t expect you to be any different. Not once you knew that mild-mannered blind attorney Matt Murdock was Daredevil.

You were going to find out. You were too intelligent not to figure out that something was going on with your boss. You probably already had some questions. He knew you hadn’t missed those days when he had injuries that couldn’t be hidden by his day suit. Even when his injuries were completely hidden, you had noticed that he was moving wrong and asked if he was alright. So far you hadn’t questioned his excuses but he didn’t think you entirely believed them either.

Sooner or later, you weren’t going to placated by those (he was told rather flimsy) excuses. You’d want the truth. Perhaps you would draw your own conclusions about what was going on with him. Become worried about addiction or abuse. Perhaps you would confronted him about it – you were rather shy but concern for others seemed to bring out your courage.

This incident would drop all kinds of clues into your hands. Especially if you got the chance to inspect his suit more closely. He didn’t have his name sewn into the collar or anything as obvious as that. But his burner phone was in one of the pouches. Finding Foggy and Karen in the contacts was going to give you all kinds of questions.

He doubted you would make the leap that the cat you had rescued was Daredevil, rather than his pet cat or something. Which was understandable. If he was in your shoes, it certainly wouldn’t be his first theory. Or his second. He was living it and he was having difficulty believing it.

At least this time he had time to prepare for the upcoming conversation. Judging from past history, it was going to be unpleasant – yelling, tears, suspicions that he was more or less faking his disability. Followed by new distrust warring with previous affection. If he was lucky, enough of that affection would survive. And if that luck continued, you would accept his nature and agree to remain friends.

If he was unlucky . . .

And if he was very lucky, you’d break the pattern. You’d accept him for who he was, man and devil. The discovery of his darkness wouldn’t kill your attraction to him. You’d say yes when he asked you out, the first date of many . . .

Through Foggy claimed he was already dating you. Which no, he wasn’t. He would know if he had asked you out and you had agreed. And you would have kissed, at least, by now if you were dating. Foggy had rolled his eyes and muttered something along the lines of ‘Oh great, both of them are idiots.’

That aside . . . Matt knew he would never be that lucky. It was a beautiful dream. But that’s all it was. A dream. It was far more likely that he was going to be stuck as a cat for the rest of his life.

‘Through,’ he thought as he started to fall asleep. ‘Being your cat wouldn’t be so bad . . .’

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You let out a frustrated whine.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, his deep voice rich as honey. “You don’t want anyone to walk in and see you like this, do you?”

Like this meaning on your boss’s lap with your skirt hiked up around your waist, your legs splayed wide so anyone who walked in that door would get a good look at your panties. That wasn’t only thing they’d get an eyeful of. Your blouse was unbuttoned, the cups of your bra pushed down to expose your breasts. One of your boss’s large hands was fondling a breast, rolling the taut nipple between his fingers. His other hand was teasing your covered cunt, pressing far too gentle and fleeting touches to yourclit.

“Or is that exactly what you want? For someone to see you like this? Did you want everyone to know? That I’m touching you like this?”

You squirmed, feeling your face flush worse than it already was. The hand on your breast gave it one last squeeze before sliding down to grip your opposite hip.

“I think you do. You want someone to see how wet you are. For them to know how eager this pussy is for my cock.”

He pushed himself upward, a pale mimicryof thrusting you craved. But it did remind you of the hard, eager cock pressed tightly against your ass. It would be so easy. Just take off your underwear and let him get his pants off. Or at least enough of his pants off to free that cock. Your cunt clenched desperately. You didn’t care if he fucked you in this chair or on his desk. Just as long as he was inside you . . .

“Or even just my fingers.”

Fingers hooked around panties, pulled them away from your cunt. A single finger ran through your folds, coating itself in your slick. Tracing the entrance before the tip dipped inside. But rather than sinking deeper, it withdrew. Before you could protest, it dipped back in. Then back out. Again. And again. Always just the tip of his finger. Nothing more. You needed more. You tried to thrust up. But the muscular arm across your torso with its hand gripping your hip kept you pinned against him. All you could do was squirm . . .

“Matt,” you moaned, burying your burning face against his neck. “Please . . .”

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You jolted upright. You were trying to get to your feet before what had woken you even registered. Unfortunately for your dignity, your comforter had gotten twisted around your legs so your attempt only resulted in you falling on the floor. More fortunate you managed to avoid smacking your head against the coffee table. As you tried to get yourself loose of your own comforter, you sleepily wondered why you were sleeping in the living room.

Then everything came flooding back. The visit . . . the cat . . . the suit . . . the dream . . . you felt your face flush. Then you realized what had woken you up. Your phone was ringing. As you got yourself to your feet, you muttered unkind things about the phone. It had shattered the dream just as it was getting really good. And the place between your legs throbbing with need. It was tempting to ignore your phone in favor of slipping your hand inside your underwear . . .

But in the end, responsibility won and you got your phone. It had gone to voice mail before you got to it. You unlocked it and checked the phone ID. Foggy. Why would Foggy be calling you . . . then the time registered.

Your heart almost stopped. The office had opened two hours ago. You were late! Your fingers frantically hit the call back, praying that you hadn’t just gotten fired. You needed this job . . .

Foggy’s cheerful hello was a promising start.

“Sorry, I know I’m late,” you started before Foggy interrupted you.

“No, you aren’t. The office is closed today.”

“Huh?” You said, trying to remember Foggy or Matt saying anything about that yesterday. You couldn’t remember . . . but your brain didn’t exactly work before its’ morning caffeine hit. And thinking about Matt only made you think about the dream. Which made the wet heat between your legs even worse. “Why?”

“Because there is roughly three feet of snow? With more still coming down? And high winds that have already knocked out power in parts of Manhattan and might do the same here any minute now?”

You immediately went to the window and peered out. You didn’t have the best view but it was as Foggy reported. Snow piled high on the streets below while more swirled across the window, day not looking not much brighter than twilight despite already being mid-morning . . . “Wow, you aren’t kidding about the weather.”

“I never kid about the weather,” Foggy said with mock seriousness. “The city powers that be don’t recommend going out in that mess. And even if they did, I’m not walking in that for anything less than a life or death emergency. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you said.

“I called you earlier but you didn’t answer and didn’t call back. I just wanted to make sure that you knew not to come today. Probably tomorrow too. More depends on how long this storm last and how long it takes to get things running again.”

And to check that you were alright. Both of your bosses were worry-warts. Matt was worse than Foggy in that regard. Always got that worried furrow in his brow when you were going to be walking home alone, right before he offered to walk with you. Often you accepted. Mostly because it gave you an excuse to spent more time with him.

And he knew all these little hole-in-the-wall restaurants with the most amazing food . . . Through whenever you talked about those little side-trips, everyone – your friends, Foggy, Karen, your mom – always asked you if you were sure that Matt wasn’t your boyfriend . . .

Yes, you were sure. Those weren’t dates. If they had been, you would have been kissing Matt. And you definitely wouldn’t have been able to resist having sex with him this long if you were dating. So they were just a side-trip taken with your friend and employer.

“Okay,” you said, shuffling away from the window and toward your small kitchen. “Thanks for checking on me. Everyone else okay?”

“No problem,” he said. “Karen’s bunkered down with . . . er . . . a friend. Matt hasn’t call me back yet. I was just about to ring him again.”

You didn’t know Karen had a boyfriend. Odd that she had never brought him to Josie’s with the rest of the group . . . but then the second part of that statement caught your brain.

“Matt hasn’t called you back?”

“No,” Foggy said. “But I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just didn’t hear his phone ring. Matt sleeps like the dead sometimes.”

Not hearing something didn’t sound like the Matt you knew. Who seemed to hear everything. No matter how quietly you moved, he always knew you were there. But Foggy knew him better than you did. And he had lived Matt for years. If Foggy said Matt was a heavy sleeper, then he was a heavy sleeper.

Still his voice sounded odd. Like maybe he was worried but trying not to show it. But maybe you were just protecting your own worries onto Foggy.

“Okay. I’ll let you get back to that. Bye, Foggy,” you said, trying to keep those worries out of your voice. ‘They were unnecessary,’ you reminded yourself silently. Matt was blind but he was also a grown man. He could care of himself. He was fine.

“Bye.”

You tucked your phone in your pocket. Ugh . . . you were still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Your work clothes since you hadn’t changed before getting that tearful phone call. You had wanted to get that laundry finally put away before you found another excuse to avoid doing it. You needed a shower. Especially since the power might go out – who knows when you’d get the chance for another one?

You put on coffee and tried not to worry about Matt.

“Matt doesn’t need you fussing over him. Even if he does come in looking like he got into a bar fight sometimes,” you told yourself sternly. Like last Friday, he had been sporting a set of spectacular set of bruises across the right side of his face. Which he said was the result of missing a curb and tripping. Which sounded rather peculiar to you. Yes, he couldn’t see the curb but he seemed pretty skilled with that cane of his . . . and Matt moved with the cat-like elegance of a dancer.

Maybe even graceful blind men had trouble with two left feet sometimes.

Speaking of trouble . . . where was that cat? You hadn’t seen him since you woke up.

“Trouble,” you called out. “Where are you? Here kitty, kitty,”

You heard a meow. Not close by. But the coffee was on so you could look around. It took several minutes and more meows to find him. Trouble was in your bedroom closet, on the shelf above the clothing rod. You weren’t sure how he he managed to get up there but cats were like that. It was amazing the places they managed to climb up or squeeze themselves into. It seemed he had started exploring while you were sleeping.

Looking at Trouble, you frowned. Something was . . . off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what . . . no, wait. You raised up your phone. You had been using the flashlight app to look in shadowy places like under furniture. You ran the light across the cat’s face, watching closely. Once, then twice to make sure you were really seeing what you were seeing. But you were. His eyes weren’t reacting to the light.

You raised one finger, then moved it back and forth in front of Trouble’s face. He wasn’t tracking the motion through his whiskers tilted forward, his little nose twitching. He was paying attention, his ears were up and pointed toward you. But his eyes . . .

“Are you blind, Trouble?” you asked, reaching back up to pet the cat. It was impossible to resist that sinfully soft fur.

He gave a soft meow as if answering your question.

Well, Trouble being blind didn’t change your plans. You were still going to adopt him if he didn’t already have a home. You made a mental note to have the vet check your theory about his vision when you took him in to make sure he was healthy as he looked. You were tempted to get Trouble down from his perch. You were pretty sure that he could back down without hurting himself. Without making a mess by accidentally pulling something down with him . . . that was another kettle of fish. And while most of what on the shelf was soft, some wasn’t and that stuff could hurt Trouble if it got knocked off while he tried to get down.

On the other hand, getting a cat out of a hiding spot could be tricky. Trouble hadn’t been aggressive with his claws even once but he might make an exception for getting grabbed and pulled out of somewhere he was hiding. Normally you’d purrito him but that high shelf wasn’t the easiest location to purrito a cat . . . the beep of the coffee maker interrupted your train of thought.

You decided to have some coffee, then consider how to get Trouble down from there. But halfway through that first mug, you heard a thump. One that wasn’t, thankfully, followed by any crashing noises. Just Trouble strolling into the kitchen, very casual. He stopped a few feet away from you, head turned you – ears alert, upright tail curled into a question mark.

“Yes, Trouble?” you said. Then thought about it for a minute. “You hungry? Breakfast?”

Another answering meow. But then you had another problem. You didn’t have any cat food. You had given the last of Oreo’s special food to a friend whose cat had the same dietary restrictions. But you did have some baked chicken. That should work. Cats usually liked chicken. Fingers-crossed that it wouldn’t upset his tummy. Or make him very sick because he needed a special diet.

You cup up the chicken and put some of it into a small bowl. You sat it down in front of the cat along with a second dish with water. After giving both bowls a very thorough inspection with his nose, the cat seemed to accept the offering and started eating the chicken. You put the rest away and made a mental note to set up the litter box. You might not always have cat food on hand but you had encountered enough unexpected cat acquisition to keep cat litter in the house. Muddling through a night without cat food was one thing. Without cat litter was something else and not an experience that bears repeating.

You drank your coffee and considered your own breakfast. You didn’t really feel like making anything complicated right now. Maybe scrambled eggs? With toast? That would be quick and easy. You nodded and made yourself breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast didn’t take long and soon you were seated at your little kitchen table, listening to one of your regular podcasts while you ate and made plans.

First, your shower. Get yourself clean and put on some clean clothes. Something comfortable since you weren’t going anywhere and there wasn’t anyone to impress. At the very least, fresh underwear since your current pair was uncomfortably damp. Along with your thighs. You were alone but the thought still made your face feel warm. Maybe, while you were in the there, you should take care of the still almost-painful ache between your legs . . .

Tidy up your apartment. Pull your emergency kit from under your bed. The Daredevil suit and all its mysteries . . . your fork scrapped the plate. The sound this produced made Trouble flinch.

“Sorry Trouble,” you said. You had been so in your head, you hadn’t realized that you already eaten all of your eggs. You moved the plate to the sink, left your mug by the coffee pot – you’d drink more when you were done with your shower – and headed toward your bedroom.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Matt might actually be in hell.

He thought it was bad earlier, when you started dreaming and his nose was filled your heavenly aroma. And when he heard you moan out his name, begging him for something. Something he couldn’t give. Not while he was like this. He had scurried out of the comforter and hidden himself before he did something . . . rash.

But this? Listening to you touching yourself? It was worse. Far worse. When there was nowhere in your small apartment where he couldn’t hear the beautiful sounds you were making. Couldn’t smell the mouth-watering scent of your arousal. Couldn’t escape the knowledge that it was always his name being moaned out.

It was torture. Pure torture.

He wanted so badly to be himself again and in that shower. Holding your naked body against his own, fingers pumping into your cunt and toying with your clit until you begged him for release. After you shattered under his hands, would he fuck you against the shower wall? Or would you turn the tables on him? Push him against the tile and start working his cock with your hands until he was the one begging?

Would that be enough to satisfy you both? Or just the beginning?

He buried himself further into the pile of blanket and comforter in a futile attempt to muffle your gasping recitation of his name as you chased your release . . .

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You walked out the bathroom feeling refreshed.

Your eyes searched for Trouble. You didn’t worry when you didn’t immediately find him. There were a lot of places in your apartment for a cat to hide. And when you went to collect last-night’s tea mug, you found him.

Or rather you found his tail. He had apparently attempt to hide himself in the pile of blankets but his tail was sticking out. You giggled as you reached out and tickled his tail. He meowed, squirmed around in the blanket until the tail disappeared into the depths.

“Not planning to come out of there, Trouble?”

The responding meow was loud, like a very firm no. which only made you giggle harder. But you left him in his blanket cocoon. He wasn’t harming anyone. If he wanted to hide for a while, you’d let him. At least he wasn’t trying to ‘help.’

TO BE CONTINUED . . . in Part 2

NOTES

The kick combination that Matt uses against the magic user is from capoeira, which is an Afro-Brazilian cultural practice that is both a martial arts and a dance. The movements require great bodily dexterity. It’s very cool.

Purrito means wrapping a cat in a towel, small blanket, or similar like they were burrito. It’s way of holding the cat without getting scratched since the paws are all inside in the burrito. Some cats find it calming as they like the gentle pressure all around them like a hug. But some don’t.

Havana brown is a cat breed developed from mixing the Siamese with brown domestic short-haired cats. They are brown to reddish-brown – right down to their whiskers – with green eyes. Very pretty cats.

Jacobson is Luke Jacobson, the fashion designer from She-Hulk. In this story, Matt saved him one night when he was in New York. He was appealed by Matt’s homemade supersuit. He demanded to make him a better one as a thank you for saving his life. And wouldn’t take no for answer.

Melvin Potter, his old suit guy, Matt has been representing as a way of apology for the trouble Melvin experienced during Season 3. Matt might introduce Melvin to Jacobson who is curious about his other red suit.

#fan fiction #fan fic #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #part 1 of 2 #cat man do #a03 link

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art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament · 9 months

Text

Behold, a bracket!

Text form below the cut because trying to copy all the 256 into the alt text sounded.... horrifying. Warning for 128 matchups, seriously, this list is long, and so I've avoided adding the artists until the polls.

a note: the pinned post has started misbehaving, so only open polls will be directly linked. closed polls instead have the results page linked in the set header, all the polls are linked from there

Set 1

The Lament for Icarus (Miao He) vs The Lament for Icarus (Herbert Draper)

The angel came to me in a fever hallucination, perched upon my bed as I returned from the bathroom. vs Sweet Brown Snail

Figures vs A Philosopher Lecturing on the Orrery

Happy Shoppers vs Hubble Deep Field

Lovers Painting vs Bath Curtain

Dr. Helen Taussig vs Une Martyre

Orangoutang étranglant un sauvage de Bornéo (Orangutan strangling a Borneo savage) vs Can’t Help Myself

Rape vs Technicolor Hiroshima

Set 2

A Walk at Dusk vs Based on “Autoportrait with the Model” by Maria-Rayevska Ivanova

Diary Page vs Les Jours Gigantesques (The Titanic Days)

Dead of Night vs You Won't

Christina's World vs Bobby

Untitled (I’m Turning Into A Specter Before Your Very Eyes And I’m Going To Haunt You) vs Two Sisters (On the Terrace)

Sharecropper vs Lustmord

The Parca and the Angel of Death vs Untitled (Zdzisław Beksiński)

Stress vs The Fallen Angel

Set 3

Device to Root Out Evil vs Travelling Light

Diana vs Fifty Days at Iliam: The Fire that Consumes All before It

The Plains, from Memory vs Exotic Bodies

Doubting Thomas vs Self-Portrait in the Bathroom Mirror

Empty Nest vs Somebody Fell From Aloft

Anguish vs If I Died

Cat in Obsolete Bath vs You're Not Boring Anymore

Salvator Mundi (Savior of the World) vs Untitled (billboard of an empty unmade bed)

Set 4

There Will Be No Miracles Here vs Symphony of the Sixth Blast Furnace

Fox Hunt vs Tarpaulin

Khajuraho Group of Monuments vs Ranakpur Jain Temple

ปราสาทสัจธรรม (The Sanctuary of Truth) vs Grande Panorama de Lisboa

Heroic Head of Pierre de Wissant, One of the Burghers of Calais vs The Weather

The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit vs If this is art

Statue of Vincent and Theo van Gogh vs Jeanne d’Arc écoutant les voix (Joan of Arc listening to the Voices)

Fountain vs Judith Slaying Holofernes

Set 5

Cueva de las Manos (Cave of Hands) vs Cave of El Castillo

Chauvet Cave Bear vs Uffington White Horse

Laocoön and His Sons vs Winged Victory of Samothrace

Crouching Aphrodite vs Statue of Taweret

Guardian Figure vs Kūya-Shonin (Saint Kuya)

Ancient Greek doll vs Arena #7 (Bears)

Enbu (炎舞) (Dancing in the Flames) vs Yearning Shadows

Belfast to Byzantium vs Freedom

Set 6

The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayan vs Portraits

The Blood Mirror vs Nighthawks

Electric Fan (Feel it Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate vs "Untitled" (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)

Lady Agnew of Lochnaw vs Forgotten Dreams

Saint Bride vs Pixeles (a group of 9 works)

War Pieta vs The Sunset

The Handmaidens of Sivawara Preparing the Sacred Bull at Tanjore for a Festival vs Ajax and Cassandra

Nāve (Death) vs Abstraction

Set 7

Yes vs Meeting on the Turret Stair

Hacked to Death II vs Stańczyk

Closeness Lines Over Time vs Voice of Fire

The Maple Trees at Mama, the Tekona Shrine and Tsugihashi Bridge vs Portrait of Sir Thomas More

Survival Series: In a Dream You Saw a Way vs Takiyasha the Witch and the Skeleton Spectre

Death blowing bubbles vs The Kitchen Table Series

Painting 1946 vs In the Grip of Winter

Untitled (Black and Gray) vs NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt

Set 8

Blue Plate Special vs Red Cedar

Palace of Fine Arts vs Mosque–Cathedral of Córdoba

Le Château des Pyrénées (The Castle of the Pyrenees) vs Susanna and the Elders, Restored - X-Ray

Moby Dick vs Viva la Vida, Watermelons

Venus Envy Chapter One (Of the First Holy Communion Moments Before the End) vs how to look at art

St. Sebastian vs Untitled #12

Carroña vs The invincible one

Untitled (Two Dogs) vs The Dog

SECOND HALF

Set 9

David (Donatello) vs David (Michelangelo)

The Other Side vs The Temptation of St. Jerome

Seated Woman with Bent Knees vs Starry Night

Headdress - Shadae vs Untitled for the Image Flow's Queer Conscience exhibit

Woman with Dead Child (Frau mit totem Kind) vs Les Amants (The Lovers)

Siroče na majčinom grobu (Orphan on Mother's Grave) vs You Make My World a Better Place to Find

Fighting Against SARS Memorial Architectural Scene (弘揚抗疫精神建築景觀) vs Fallingwater

Resting vs The Hull

Set 10

Olive Trees vs Worship

Glow vs Wheatfield with Crows

Study after Velázquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X vs Untitled (He Plays Very Badly)

D.I.Y. by John Wiswell vs The Tragedy

Judith and the Head of Holofernes vs Beethovenfries (Beethoven Frieze)

The Memory of Me (How Could I Forget) vs oh god i had a really big epiphany about love and personhood but i’m too drunk for words

I am happy because everyone loves me vs 瀕危形態 (Endangered Forms)

Three Scaffolders vs Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan

Set 11

San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk vs Water-Lilies, Reflection of a Weeping Willow

The Grief of the Pasha vs Monolith in Vigeland Sculpture Park

Passion vs Space Diner

Hamlet and Ophelia vs Two Earthlings

Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth vs Seer Bonnets

Photograph from "SNAP OSAKA" Collection vs Clytemnestra after the Murder

“Untitled” (Perfect Lovers) vs The Lovers (TIE)

Kedai Ubat Jenun vs Orange Store Front

Set 12

The Apotheosis of War vs Portrait of the Dancer Aleksandr Sakharov

Julie Manet vs Mouth

The Icebergs vs Kaleidoscope Cats III

Maman vs Caza Nocturna (Night Hunt)

The Book of Kells Folio 188r: Luke carpet page vs Ardagh Chalice

Yusuf and Zulaikha vs Dome of the Rock mosaics

Rowan Leaves and Hole vs Untitled (prisonhannibal)

Le Désespéré (The Desperate Man) vs The Dedication

Set 13

Deimos vs Dog and Bridge

The Mocking of Christ vs Prudence

The Broken Column vs Siberian Ice Maiden shoulder tattoo

Transi de René de Chalon (Cadaver Tomb of René of Chalon) vs Head of Christ

The Day vs Spirit of Haida Gwaii

Eleanor Boathouse at Park 571 vs Jatiya Sangsad Bhaban জাতীয় সংসদ ভবন (National Parliament House)

Juventud de Baco (Bacchus Youth) vs Barges on the Seine

Oath of the Horattii closeup vs Visit hos Excentrisk Dam (Visit to an eccentric lady)

Set 14

Christ Crucified (With Donor) vs St. Francis

Thunder Raining Poison vs Piazza d'Italia

The Grove vs Among the Waves

Pintura Mural de Alarcón vs Sagrada Família stained-glass windows

Noonday Heat vs La Dame à la licorne (The Lady and The Unicorn)

Matroser i Gröna Lund (Sailors in Gröna Lund) vs Gielda Plakatu

Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks vs The Garden of Earthly Delights

Kuoleman puutarha (The Garden of Death) vs Haavoittunut enkeli (The Wounded Angel)

Set 15

i've wasted a lifetime pretending to be me vs da oracle

minus #37 vs Panel from Fun Home

Excerpt from illustrated edition of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner vs La Mort de Marat (The Death of Marat)

The Veil vs Düsseldorf 4 (Museum Kunst Palast)

Capriccio vs Zodiac calendar for La Plume

The official imperial portrait of empress dowager Cixi vs José y Maria

Blooming Lilacs vs Lágrimas De Sangre (Tears of Blood)

An Interlude vs Boy Staring at an Apparition

Set 16

Mermer Waiskeder: Stories of the Moving Tide vs The Gran Hotel Ciudad de México Art Nouveau interior

Unfinished Painting vs To Arms!

Memorial to a Marriage vs The Island

Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn vs A Few Small Nips

Saturn Devouring His Son vs Guernica

Fairy Princesses vs Lamentation over the Dead Christ

Mummy with An Inserted Panel Portrait of a Youth vs Little Girl Looking Downstairs at Christmas Party

Agnus vs The Cup Of His Murders Is Flowing Over And In His Coat Shall Be Many Curses

#art that fucks you up tournament #announcement #links are in the read more!

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niallsgoldhoop · 29 days

Text

sweet spot

a niall horan short story part one of six / six thousand words-ish nsfw, 18+

“I’m going to get another drink!”

I smile at my friends before turning away from the round table we’ve been sitting at, cutting my way through the crowded bar full of people dressed in various shades of green.

St. Patrick’s Day was the day to go out.

This year, for once, it fell on a Sunday which was the only day that I was off work.

Not that I was complaining— Owning my own bakery was the one and only thing that I had ever wanted and dreamed of.

So this morning when a couple of my closest friends asked if I wanted to go out with them later that night, the only obvious answer was yes.

“What can I get for you?” Looking up at me with a wide smile, the girl behind the bar mixes a couple of drinks before pushing the one in her hand right to the girl next to me.

Biting on my bottom lip, my eyes scan over the rows of liquor bottles lined up behind her. “I’ll just take an old fashioned with an extra cherry, please!”

“You got it, babe.”

Turning her back to me and pouring my drink, I lean against the dark wooden bar top to wait. While I’ve made my rounds to different pubs and bars over the years, I’d never been to Wilson’s before. It was full of sports memorabilia and vintage Guinness signs.

As my eyes take in everything around me, I realize one more thing that this bar has that none of the others have ever had.

Him.

Jesus Christ.

Even from here I can tell his eyes are light— a contrast to the dark chestnut color of his hair that curls out from the bottom of the Boston Red Sox hat perched on top of his head.

Sitting with a small group much like my own, the moment his eyes meet mine from across the distance something shifts deep inside my belly.

Heat blooms across my cheeks as I look away, focusing my vision on the baseball game playing on the television to my left, only I definitely couldn’t tell you a single thing on it.

“See something you like?”

Whipping around at the sound of a low, Irish accent, I find myself face to face with the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.

If I thought he was captivating from across the room?

That was nothing compared to standing right next to him.

Under the brim of his hat, those eyes are so blue that it takes my breath away especially when the golden ring around his pupil catches the light when his fingers grip the brim of his hat and turn it backwards.

Fuck me.

“I—Um—“ Words evade me as he looks over the features of my face, those eyes falling to my lips for the longest few seconds of my life.

Running his hand over the dark scruff lining his jaw, it does nothing to hide the smirk that pulls at the corner of his full lips. “Cat got your tongue?”

This time I realize it’s my turn to let my eyes linger where they shouldn’t as a smug smile pulls on the corner of my own lips.

“Niall.” Holding his hand out to me, goosebumps travel up my arms at the electric touch between us. “And you?”

Just as I go to answer, the drink I ordered slides in front of me, looking so refreshing that I can’t help but pick one of the cherries out and bite it between my teeth, my tongue catching the drop of cherry flavored whiskey from my bottom lip.

“Willow.”

His thoat bobs against his swallow, that thick accent rough and low as he pushes closer to me as someone slides up to the bar behind him, repeating my name back to me as if he was imagining the taste of it on his own tongue. “Willow.”

I’ve never met someone who I’ve been able to fall into a conversation with so quickly. It feels like we stand there forever, slowly drifting closer and closer to each other. The smell of his vetiver and bergamot cologne becomes more and more intoxicating as time goes on.

“So, this is your holiday?” Taking a sip of the amber liquid from my glass, I look up at him through my lashes as the last rays of the sun filter through the old stained glass windows of the bar.

His laugh is loud and full before he leans a little closer to be heard over the noise, his tone playful with something else hidden under the surface. “I guess that depends.”

“Oh yeah?” A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips when Niall reaches out, his finger boldly tracing the thin green strap over my shoulder before following the path of my collarbone. “On what?”

A final peak of the sun hits the gold hoop in his ear just before he leans forward, his soft lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Are you going to kiss me because I’m Irish?”

“I don’t know—“ Reaching forward, my middle finger tucks into the pocket of his jeans as I look up at him, my head tilting to the side. “Are you gonna kiss me if I’m not?”

Time stands still between us as Niall glances behind him, towards the table of friends he left behind, his hand dropping to my waist where the tips of his fingers slide just barely under the top of my jeans. “Maybe not on the lips— But I can think of some other places I’d like to get my mouth.”

“Here?” This time it’s my turn to look behind me, towards my friends. “I—“

“Well, I’m not opposed to that.” His voice sounds laden with honey. “I won’t lie, Willow— You are one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen.”

A blush crowds the apples of my cheeks as I push a lock of hair behind my ear. “I could say the same about you, Niall.”

“Will they miss you?” Blue eyes look over the top of my head as he looks towards my friends. “Because I know the guys at my table won’t miss me.”

Biting my bottom lip, I shake my head. “They’ll be fine.”

I wasn’t a stranger to a one night stand— in fact, I feel like that’s what I preferred.

Working the hours at the bakery mixed with helping my sister, it just worked out that way. Plus it never really bothered me to be single.

There was something about Niall that felt honest.

Deep in those sapphire eyes with their golden sunset, there was a feeling in my gut of trust.

Ever since I was younger I’d always had intuition that was rarely ever wrong, something that I held close to my heart, letting myself lean into those feelings.

“So what do you say, Willow?” That brilliant smile splits across his perfect features, a couple of small crinkles at the corner of his eyes. “Want to get out of here?”

“Are you asking me to make an Irish exit?” A laugh bubbles out from my lips as I look up to him.

With a shrug of his shoulders, that hand resting along the top of my hip slides along the rough material on my jeans before his fingers dip into the waistband, pulling my body flush with his as his lips brush across my jaw. “Is it still an Irish exit if you leave with someone who’s Irish?”

“Mm, maybe not.” My words come on an exaggerated breath— one not meant for the public to hear. “Let me just send my location to my friends and tell them I’m leaving.”

Niall nips my earlobe. “I can't stop thinking about what I’ll do when I’m alone with you.”

Pulling some cash out of my wallet and pushing it across the bar, I listen to the fire blazing through my blood as I thread my fingers through his, looking up at him with a smile.

“I can't wait to find out.”

_________

I’ve never wanted someone so bad.

The entire ride in the back of the taxi to Niall’s house was like the ultimate tease of his attention.

From the words he whispered against my skin to the way his hands rested heavy on my thigh, his pinky just teasing along the seam of my jeans.

His lips hadn’t even met mine and I already knew just how impactful it would be when they do.

God, how fucking god they’ll feel.

On my lips.

On my skin.

When his hand finds mine as he says goodbye to our driver, butterflies flood my belly as he guides me in front of him to the front door of a quaint bungalow style house complete with a blooming garden.

“Fucking finally.” My body presses into his front door as he reaches into his pocket, the sound of metal keys cutting through the crisp air. “When I saw you— Standing at that bar— All I could think about was getting you here, with me.”

One hand wraps around my waist as the other pushes the key into the lock, turning it and pushing open the heavy door. As much as I’d like to look at everything inside, that idea falls flat when Niall grips me by the hips, spinning us around and pushing my back into the door as it slams shut.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? With where this is going?” Cupping my jaw, his thumb presses under my chin to bring my gaze to his. “If we’re going to do this— Together— I want you to be vocal, okay? I want to hear you answer me and tell me what you want, what you need. Can you do that for me, Willow?”

I swallow the nerves building up, nodding my head, my tongue rolls over my body lip. “Yes— Yes, I can do that. Please, Niall—“

“Come here.”

When the space between us closes, his lips on mine, I swear to god it feels like the earth starts to spin in reverse.

Soft and supple, Niall moves his lips along with mine as if he’d been doing just that for years. I can't even contain the whimper that falls from my own lips when his tongue teases across my top lip as his hands slide under the thin top that I pulled on this morning.

Just feeling his skin against mine sends a wave of goosebumps across my body, making me arch my back to push myself even closer to his warm body, feeling the heat emanating from him.

“Fuck.” His teeth pull on my bottom lip, just enough pressure to send a jolt through my nervous system. “I could stand here and kiss you all night, Jesus Christ.”

“Mhm.” Is my only reply as my lips travel from his and across the scruff lining his jaw, down to the spot under his golden earring, pulling the skin between my teeth and soothing it with my tongue. “But then I wouldn’t get to see this.” Dropping one of my hands, I cup him through his jeans and listen to the low groan from deep in his throat. “Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

“Yeah? You want to see my cock nice and hard for you— Is that it?” Niall pulls back just enough to meet my gaze as his hands fall from under my shirt. “I’m going to ask you some questions, okay?”

“Okay.” Breathless, I feel the electricity as it buzzes underneath my skin.

“Is anything off limits for you?” Working the button of my jeans, he keeps those blue eyes on mine.

Shaking my head, I feel my heart rate skipping a beat. “No.”

“Good.” A smile plays at the corner of his lips as the unmistakable sound of his fingers pulling down the zipper fills the space around us. “Do you need a safe word just in case?”

“N—No.” I shake my head again. “I don’t.”

A small nod is the only response I get before Niall drops down in front of me, looking up at me from his knees, his fingers curling around the edge of my pants before pulling them down to reveal the skimpy lacy covering my center.

“Jesus Christ.” Strong hands drag up my thighs as his eyes go wide. “This incredible body is just for me tonight, is that right?”

Through dark lashes framing his eyes, the blue fades out as the darkness of his pupils expand. “For tonight, yeah.”

“Are you going to leave that pretty green top on? Or take it off?” The very top of his finger traces the edge of the black lace, making my thighs inadvertently rub together. “Don’t worry— I’ll take care of you.”

Gripping the edges of my shirt and pulling it off, I drop it next to where my shoes and my jeans sit in a small pile, my hand reaching out to run through Niall’s dark hair.

When the soft light from the lamp across the living room catches the silver barbells through my nipples, his eyes close as he tilts his face up to the ceiling, almost like he’s in need of his own savior.

“Willow.” My name falls off his lips on a groan, one from deep inside his chest. “God.”

With my back still against the front door, a small gasp leaves me when Niall’s lips press against my skin, small kisses dancing across my thighs and the soft nips from his teeth adding to the sensation.

“Look at you— Soaking wet.” Dragging his finger over the center of the damp fabric, I tilt my head back when he presses his fingertips to my clit. “I bet you taste sweet, so fucking sweet.”

“Maybe if you quit talking you’ll find out.” I answer.

Niall scoffs, looking up at me. “So the pretty girl from the bar has a bratty side, does she?”

Hooking his finger into the lace and pulling it to the side, I can’t help the way my lips pop open as his tongue moves through my center, the tip of his tongue swirling around my throbbing clit before pulling away.

“Niall—“

“You know, I like brats.” Pressing a soft kiss to my thigh, his nails drag down the back of my thighs before peeling the scrap of material from my body. “So by all means— Keep going.”

Before I can formulate a response, he buries his face between my legs and when he suctions his lips around my clit, it feels like all I can do is not to unravel right then and there. Burying my hands in his hair, I moan out as he goes back and forth between tracing mindless patterns across the sensitive nerve and flicking his tongue in a rhythm that doesn’t even seem humanly possible.

“So fucking sweet.” Resting his head on my lower stomach, I take a second to catch my breath before feeling his finger as he drags it through the wetness he’s created. “I bet this cunt is so tight, so warm.”

Pressing one finger inside, he only draws it back to add a second one before hooking them both forward and finding the spot that only those few and far between have been able to find.

“Niall, oh god—“ Letting go of his soft brunette waves, I let my fingers slide up my belly until they find the silver piercings on my chest, messing with them to add another level to the pleasure he’s giving me. “That feels so good, so damn good.”

“Let me.” Moving my hands out of the way, he grips my heavy breast in his hand before flicking the metal and making me cry out. “Put your hands up— Over your head.”

I do as I’m told just as he finds his home between my legs again, the sounds coming from the back of his throat making me whimper louder than I even knew was possible. Especially when he lifts my leg over his shoulder, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers as he eats me with fervor— as if he hasn’t had a drop of water in a desert for years.

“Are you going to come for me like this? Against my front door?” Nipping the sensitive nerve, I feel my walls flutter against his fingers. “How many times has someone made you come before, Willow?”

My eyes flutter closed as he sucks and licks me like never before, his fingers pressing harder inside of me. “Thr—Fuck, three.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Those words are the last ones I hear before he brings me to a pleasure I’ve never known.

“Fuck!” Letting my mouth fall open, I cry out as my orgasm crashes through my body. “Niall.“

He stands up to tower over me, cupping my jaw and letting his fingers dig into my cheeks, a silent question.

When I nod and open my mouth, he lets his saliva mixed with my release gather on his tongue before letting it fall into my waiting mouth.

“Perfect— You are literally perfect.” Crashing his lips to mine, when his hands slide down my thighs, I let him wrap them around his waist before he turns us away from the door. “I’m going to have so much fun making a mess out of you— wrecking you.”

His lips move against mine in a slower kiss than before, taking his time.

I pull back from him just enough to see the dark walls of his bedroom, the bed looking like a cloud from the fluffy sheets and the half made duvet spread across the top.

Niall sits in the edge of the bed, his hands moving across my ass at the same time he drops his lips to my neck, leaving wet kisses down until he takes one of my nipples into his mouth.

“Oh, yes.” Barely a whisper, the sensation of his warm mouth along with his tongue flicking across the metal makes me arch my back. “More.”

Releasing one and doing the same with the other, he pulls away too soon. “Get on your knees first.”

“And if I say no?” I gripping the hair at the base of his neck, I pull until he has to tilt his head back to look up at me. “If I want to be a brat?”

A low laugh falls from his lips as he stands to his full height, turning so that he can drop me down onto the bed, reaching out and grabbing a fist full of my hair just hard enough that I feel the sting in my scalp.

From my scalp all the way to the spot between my legs.

“You want to be difficult? That’s fine.” Working the button of his pants, I bite my bottom lip in anticipation. “You can be difficult with my cock down your throat, yeah?”

When he releases my hair, his hands make quick work of his pants and briefs, shoving them to the floor and kicking them off to be forgotten until later before grabbing his shirt and adding that to the pile.

Just the sight before me makes me whimper.

A perfect amount of dark hair dusts across his chest and even matches the trimmed hair that leads to the most perfect cock that I’ve ever seen.

“Go on, put your mouth on me.” Gripping himself in his left hand, Niall presses the tip of his cock to my bottom lip, using it to pull it down to release it with with a pop. “Let me see how well I fit.”

Opening my mouth, I flick my tongue along the underside of his length, looking up at him through my lashes before closing my lips around him and drawing him in.

“Holy shit.” Dropping his hand, he threads it through my hair instead. “Just like that, baby.”

The small amount of praise makes me take him deeper, letting my tongue run along the thick vein that decorates him. His hand in my hair tightens as he hits the back of my throat, a moan breaking through his lips.

“Open your throat for me, I know you can take more than that.” Niall demands.

Doing just that, I let my jaw relax and when he pushes even further, the intrusion makes my throat restrict— gagging around him and feeling tears rush to the corners of my eyes.

“Again—“

Pushing forward, this time I let him rest at the back of my throat for a couple more seconds before pulling back, using my fist to work him over as I catch my breath.

I don’t waste time before taking him back in my mouth, keeping my eyes on his as I taste the saltiness of him, wishing more than anything he would give me everything— to let me swallow everything he could give me.

“I can’t—“ Shaking his head, Niall pulls back. “You’re mouth feels too good, Will—“

The shortened version of my name makes butterflies erupt in my stomach, ones that I immediately have to tamper down at the reminder that this is what it is.

One night.

A nickname means nothing.

“You’re ruining my fun.” I say with a pout, looking up at him.

“I am?” He grins as he looks down at me, his tongue rolling across the inside of his cheek as I nod. “Fuck, then around and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Eager to please, I maneuver around the mattress until I face away from him, letting my palms run across the soft sheets until they extend in front of me while Niall drops his hands to my ass.

“Willow, were you being honest when you said nothing was off the table for you?” Smooth palms work small circles across my skin.

Turning to look over my shoulder, I catch Niall’s gaze looking at where he wants to be buried, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “I was being honest— Do your worst, Niall.”

Before I can finish my last breath, he raises his palm and brings it down across my skin making me cry out at the sting of pain.

“How’s that feel?” He asks, bending to press a kiss to the area. “ Feel good?”

“Yes, yes—“

Another sting across the opposite side, this one harder than the other as he squeezes my flesh in his hand. “Good, good girl.”

After a few more stinging strikes, I can feel my arousal as it drips between my thighs, the need for him so strong that I don’t know how to even possibly control it.

“Niall, I need more— Please, give me more.” I beg.

“Tell me now… Do you want me to get a condom?” Voice thick, his lips press to the middle of my bare back as he bends over me, letting his hands run over my breasts and toy with my nipples. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“No, no.” Shaking my head, I breathe out. “I get tested and I’m clean.”

“I am too.” Warm breath skates across my back. “I can show you the results.”

Rolling my lips together, I whimper. “Don’t make me wait— I need to feel you inside of me.”

Niall presses one last kiss to the center of my back before I feel the blunt head of his cock as he runs it through my center, coating himself in me.

If I thought he was going to say something— I was wrong.

Instead, he grips my hips in his hands and buries himself so deep inside of me that my cries seem to ricochet off the walls from feeling him filling me.

“So fucking perfect.” He says, pulling out to the very tip before slamming back into me and pulling my ass up to meet his thrusts. “My cock fits so well inside you. Can you feel how greedy this little cunt is, huh?”

“Oh— Oh my god—“ A moan slips from my lips as he punishes me for things I haven't even done, his grip no doubt leaving bruises of his fingertips behind. “Fuck, Niall. You’re so fucking deep.”

From behind me, I can hear the sound of his hips meeting my ass, each one more punishing and relentless than the last. Niall lets his hands slide from my hips to my ass, moving just right so that when I hear the spit leave his lips and land perfectly on his cock, I feel myself racing towards another climax.

“I can feel you squeezing me, are you going to give me another one of your pretty moans? Coat my cock?” Bringing his palm down against my skin, my knuckles turn white as I grip the sheets. “Who would have known you were this fucking filthy.”

“Right there, please don’t stop!” The cry from my lips leaves my mouth open as I choke around the moan that follows it. “I’m going to come again. Oh fuck, right there. Please.”

Niall buries himself with such power that my release lets go, barreling towards the finish line as my teeth bite down on the comforter as I push my face into the bed. “God, Willow— You’re squeezing my cock so fucking good, holy fuck.”

He pulls out of me only to pull me to the edge of the bed and roll me over, sinking himself back inside of me, making my back arch off the bed while my hands reach for anything to hold onto.

“I could spend days buried inside of you and not get enough.” Meeting my gaze, Niall slows his thrust as he rolls his hips, grinding the base of his cock against my clit. “A night isn’t enough. Play with those pretty piercings for me, Will, please.”

Using both of my hands, I pinch and play with the sensitive peaks, giving the attention that I love and loving the way his eyes feel as they travel from my eyes all the way down my body to watch where he sinks inside of me.

“Harder, I need it harder—“ I say, biting my bottom lip.

Niall leans over the bed, his hand wrapping around the base of my throat, squeezing just enough to restrict my airway. “You want to be fucked like a slut? Is that what I’m hearing?”

Only able to nod, my voice catches in my throat as he picks up his pace and thrust into me so hard that my back slides up the sheets of the bed. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah?” Sweat drips down the side of his neck as he hovers over me, those blue eyes flaring with unbridled lust. “How’s that?”

“So good.” I moan, my nails scratching down his chest and over the muscles of his stomach. “I feel, god. Your cock feels so good.”

“I’ve never been buried inside someone that feels like this.” He moans, tilting his head up to the ceiling. “Strangling my fucking cock. and trying to kill my for everything I have.”

Dragging his hands away from my neck, his hand splays wide across my chest as he pushes me into the mattress. “Come on baby, I can feel you ready to soak me again— Give it to me, let me have it.”

“No. I want—“

Niall groans as he brings his thumb to my mouth, pushing it in deep enough that I gag before he drops it to my clit, working circles around the nerve as I cry out his name so loud that if he had neighbors close enough they’d never have to wonder what his name is.

“Stop being difficult, fuck.” Thrusting into me, he drops his head to mine and pulls my bottom lip between his teeth. “Come around me, now.”

Giving over the control of my body, Niall fucks me as I release around him again, coating his cock and soaking the sheets as he drops his head to my neck, sucking the skin between his teeth.

“There you go, look how perfect you are when you listen.” Low and rough, his voice is like gravel. “Such a fucking good girl for me, Willow.”

I nod, feeling empty as he pulls out of me and grips my knees, pushing them apart to look down at my weeping cunt, the mess he created.

“Fuck.”

Dropping down, he wastes no time before taking my clit into his mouth, the suction so hard that it sends me spiraling into another orgasm and coating his tongue with my release, making me squirm on the sheets.

“Niall, I— I can’t, my god—“

“Get up, let me see you dripping for me.” Niall runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “I’m not done with you.”

“I—“

“Now.” His palm cracks across the side of my breast, making my breath ragged as he fists his cock, taking a step back from the bed and reaching for my ankle to drag me to the edge. “Stand up and bend over. Take my cock like the good girl you are.”

I scramble to stand up, my legs already feeling weak as he grips my hips and turns us to face the dresser along his wall, the oversized mirror hanging above it.

“You’re going to watch me fuck you in this mirror— Watch as I fill this cunt to the brink with me, do you understand me?” Wrapping my hair around his fist once, twice— he tugs on it when I don’t answer. “Fucking answer me, you slut.”

Nodding, I rest my elbows along the top of the dresser. “Give it to me, please.”

“There’s that nice girl I met at the bar.” He smiles at me. “You are so perfect, so beautiful.”

Slower than anything else we’ve done tonight, Niall pushes inside of me; it feels like every single ridge and vein touches the right spot inside of me, filling me up so full that it brings tears to my eyes.

“You gonna cry over this cock?” Pushing harder, Niall places his hands on the outside of my arms flat on top of the dresser, the heat between our bodies an inferno as his sweat slicked skin moves across mine. “Cry over how fucking good we fit— Cry over how well you’re taking me— Taking me so deep?”

Shaking my head, I find his eyes in the mirror. “I can’t—“

“You can.” Niall presses forward, my legs shaking as he reaches around to bring his fingers to my clit and working the sensitive nerve into tight circles. “You can take it, and you fucking will.”

“Niall—“

“You’re going to come all over me again and then l’m going to fill this perfect pussy so full that you’ll be dripping down your thighs for me.” For the first time, his voice falters as I feel his thrusts foster for just a second. “Then maybe I’ll be done with you.”

Pushing up onto the tips of my toes, the new angle causes me to cry out, my hands sliding along the wood and pushing a stack of shirts to the floor at the same time that Niall’s scream blends with mine as he empties himself so deep inside of me that it feels like I can’t breath.

Fucking me through both of our orgasms, I feel the tears as they stream down my cheeks at the same time I gasp for air to fill my lungs.

“Fuck, Willow— Fuck—“ Niall grips my hips as he slowly pulls out of me, his eyes trained between my legs. “Look at that.”

Dropping to his knees, I let my head fall onto my arm. “God.”

“I made such a mess of you.” Using his thumbs, he pulls me apart to watch as his release runs down the inside of my thighs. “I’ve never seen someone look so good coated in me, dripping my come.”

“Niall.” The words from my lips are hoarse as he stands up, wrapping his arms around me and pulling my spent body into his. “I’m so— so tired.”

“You did so good, baby.” Pressing a kiss to my temple, I let myself sink into his arms knowing that it’s a chance I won’t get again. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Carrying me to the bathroom, I don’t protest when he starts a bath and helps me climb inside, the warm water soothing me into a post sex state that I have never experienced before.

As he runs his hands over my body with a lavender body wash, I let my head rest against his chest from where he sits behind me, listening to him as he keeps telling me how good I was.

How good I am.

“You know, you could stay here.” Pressing a kiss to my shoulder, I close my eyes at his words. “Spend the night.”

Shaking my head, I turn to look at him. “This was a one night thing, we know that.”

“Exactly.” Pressing a lingering kiss to my lips, he runs the tip of his nose down the length of mine. “You staying the night is still just one night.”

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I find myself nodding.

Which is exactly how I find myself curled into his side after a change of the sheets, an oversized Harley Davidson shirt pushed up over my stomach as Niall’s warm palm keeps me pulled into him as his warm and steady breath tickles the hair at the back of my neck.

I let myself relish in his warmth for thirty more minutes before I slip out from the sheets, taking one last look at him before making it to the living room and pulling on my jeans before calling a taxi.

Slipping away from the best sex I ever had and leaving without a note is hard, but it has to be done.

Niall and I were meant for one night and nothing more.

However, when I climb into my own bed still wrapped in that white shirt, I find myself wishing for the first time in a king that there was a potential for more.

That we would be more.

That Niall would want to be more.

With me.

—————

AHHHHH!!!!!

i’m so excited about this story and putting it out here for everyone to read!!! the second part is coming soon and i hope you like this!

-a🍀

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