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✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: SOMNOPHILIA 🐟✨

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Day 3 - Sleeping Beauty

Prompt: 1 - Somnophilia Character: Matt Murdock Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: ~900 Warnings: Somnophilia, referenced oral sex (f and m receiving), hand-job, p in v sex, unprotected sex Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Sleeping Beauty

It was early. Far too early to be awake on a day neither of you had anywhere to be. You really ought to go back to sleep. That would be the most sensible thing to do.

But you didn’t want to do the sensible thing.

Not with Matt sprawled across your bed, the early morning light painting his nude body in an ethereal glow. It was sight fit for a Cavaragio. One of his fallen angels. Or one of the martyrs. Something holy. Which was pretty ironic. Given that your thoughts were anything but holy.

No, your mind was on all the ways Matt could make you scream. There were so many. You were rather amazed that you hadn’t gotten a noise complaint. It wasn’t lack of effort. You certainly hadn’t been quiet earlier this week when he had his face buried in your cunt. Not that you ever were. Matt had a very talented mouth. And a lot of enthusiasm for eating you out.

Not that your man was a one-trick pony. Far from it. He was equally talented with his hands and his cock. With similar level of enthusiasm. You were pretty sure that if he could, Matt would spent the rest of his life between your thighs. With his biggest dilmenia being deciding between fucking you with his tongue or his cock.

If you were being perfectly honest, that didn’t sound terrible.

But that did remind you that it had been too long since you and Matt last had sex. Probably not by someone’s standards since it had only been three days. But that was three too many as far as you were concerned. You wanted him inside you.

It was stupid early but you doubted that he would complain about being woken up for sex. You considered your options. Simply shake his shoulder until he woke up? Or ride him until pleasure pulled him out of the depths of slumber?

The second option had a lot of appeal. It was straightforward. It would turn Matt into a blissful puddle. And he had been very intrigued by the idea when you had first shared the fantasy with him. Unfortunately, turning that fantasy into a reality had proved trickier than either of you had anticipated.

You had gotten close on the last time. Very close. Maybe this time you would succeed.

Settling between his legs, you took a deep breath. Held it, then let it out slowly. If there was one thing your previous attempts had taught you, it was that this required patience. Go too fast and he’d wake up before you were ready.

Holding your breath, you placed your hands on top of his thigh. He didn’t stir. You breathed a sigh of relief. The first touch was among the most fraught, one of the moments where he was mostly likely to be startled awake. You gently massaged his thigh, marveling as you always did at the muscle laying under his skin.

He shifted, murmuring something too soft and jumbled for you to make you. For a moment, you thought you had failed. Again. But just as soon as it had started, the movement ended. When your fingers dared to brush against the more sensitive skin of his inner thigh, the skin rippled but otherwise there was no reaction.

Except his cock. It was waking up even if the rest of him wasn’t. As it had every time you had tried this. Could be the touching. Matt loved being touched, always leaning into your touch and looking a little disappointed whenever the touching stopped. Could be your arousal. You could feel how wet you were. Matt had shown himself unable to ignore such things. He might be able to restrain himself from ravishing you on the pool table at Josie’s but not from whispering all the things he wanted to do with you once you were alone in your ear.

Your cunt clenched at those memories. And had to take a moment to supress the urge to just grab his partially erect cock. As much as you wanted him inside you, that would absolutely wake Matt up. And you didn’t get that many chances to attempt this fantasy.

Your patience was rewarded. When you slipped your hand around his cock, it twitched and Matt murmured again but did not wake. Feeling more confident, you used a combination of your hands and mouth to work him into full hardness. All the while, Matt’s murmuring increased, sometimes becoming clear enough to be understand (sweetheart . . . . yes . . . please), along with his restless movements. Still in the depths of sleep but he was swimming toward the surface.

You didn’t have much time left. It was time to be bold. After making sure his cock was coated in your slick, you lined it up with your entrance and began to sink down. You couldn’t contain your moans. Even the smallest amount of him inside you felt so good . . . a feeling that only grew as you brought him deeper and deeper inside you. Until he was fully sheathed inside your cunt.

And wonder of wonders, Matt was on that gray zone between sleeping and awake. His eyes hadn’t fluttered open yet but he was aware enough that his hands were grabbing your ass. Not quite aware enough to stop the restless movements of his hips. Or the whiny moans from spilling out of his mouth.

Smiling in triumphant, you braced your hands on his chest and began to ride him.

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: BROKEN + "I feel real when I'm with you." 🐟✨

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"You’re who I want." (Michael Kinsella x F!Reader)

Time for Day 3 of the Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day Three, I chose to combine the fluff and angst prompts ("I feel real when I'm with you" and 'Broken'), and I also decided to try my hand at one of Charlie Cox's other characters for once, that being our favorite sad, tragic, sweetheart of a mobster Michael Kinsella! You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! And off we go!

Ship: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Wordcount: 2k

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: mentions of blood, kiss at the end, angst (but with a happy ending obvs)

It was Birdy that called you right as you were getting ready to settle in for the night, the heavy downpour a drumbeat against your windows that you’d hoped would lull you to sleep. But that wasn’t in your cards tonight, it seemed. 

“He’s headed yer way. Things… didn’t go well tonight.” 

Not for the first time, you quietly cursed the way the Kinsellas had dragged Michael back into their business as you dug out the first aid kit, setting it beside a change of clothes and a few clean towels to help Michael dry off when he arrived. You didn’t care what the Kinsellas got up to on their own time, who they sold to and what their business was. What you cared about was whether Michael had wanted this. But he was a loyal man, endlessly devoted to family, something Amanda was all too happy to take advantage of. 

You had thoughts on that, too, but that would also have to wait. 

 “We lost a few o’ ours. He managed ta turn it around at the last second, but… Well, the family argued after. Things were said ta him, and…”

Some nights, though, you wondered just how long Michael had left before he broke beneath that weight—the weight of expectation and a grim responsibility he shouldered without complaint, even as he began to crumble beneath it. In the two years since you’d met this beautiful, quiet man in that small coffee shop, you’d watched those brittle cracks form. Over time, as he gradually began to let you in, you’d discovered the far deeper fissures that lay buried beneath. Your lack of fear, your absence of judgement over what he’d done, had only opened that door further, until he began to seek you out as you did him. Time passed, and your orbits were brought closer and closer together, spiraling planets caught inevitably in the pull of each other’s gravity.   

Neither of you had named what this was. But if he could find comfort here, safety here, then you’d happily give it. 

 “Just… be gentle with him, dear.” 

Somehow, even the knock at your door sounded exhausted. You hurried out of the kitchen where you’d been filling up the kettle—you’d learned very quickly how important it was to have it ready at all hours when you’d moved to Ireland—and headed down the hall to the front door. You unlocked the door and tugged it open, letting in the roaring sound of the rain and a gust of chilled wind. 

“Oh, Michael,” you whispered. 

He was soaked to the bone, dark hair plastered down against his skin as he leaned tiredly against the doorframe, his body wracked with shivers from the cold. What was worse: even with the rain, you could still see traces of blood on his shirt and hands, more of it leaking steadily from a split on his lip. Fortunately, only the blood on his mouth seemed to belong to him. He tried to throw you a small smile, but it was far too crooked, too brittle to be real, and you had a feeling his eyes weren’t red because of the rain. The moment he seemed to realize you didn’t buy it, that shield fell away, and you were left with just Michael at his most exposed, empty and exhausted. 

“That bad, eh?” he asked tiredly, trying for humor and missing by miles.

“Shit, get in here before you freeze.” You caught his arm and tugged him forward until you could quickly shut the door behind him. He didn’t fight you on it physically, for which you were grateful, but he couldn’t seem to resist at least a little verbal stubbornness. 

“I’m gettin’ yer floors all wet,” he said. Without the need to pretend, his tone had gone empty and lifeless, stripped of all energy, as if he’d used up what little he had left on the walk over. He dropped his head, staring down at the growing puddle on the floor, his face twisting through something unreadable. “‘M sorry, pet. I shouldn’t have—”

“Floors can be dried, Mikey.” You waved the objection away, locking the door before turning back to Michael where he was standing shivering in the hall as if he were reluctant to take up any further space, as if he feared he were unwelcome. And something about it, about the way he seemed to barely be holding himself together, just… broke your heart. “Come here.”

He shivered again, even as he shook his head, arms wrapped around himself. You could almost see him changing his mind, a wave of regret rearing up inside him, flashing in the dark of his eyes, eyes still looking too damp for just the rain. “I’ll… I’ll get blood on ya.” “I don’t care.”

He clenched his jaw, still refusing to look at you. Some of the blood on him had joined the puddle of rainwater at his feet, the pale tile darkening to a rusty pink. “No, I-I shoulda stopped ‘a home first, cleaned up. And it’s late, yer clearly dressed for bed. We can talk another time—”

You crossed the distance between you both before he could take a single step towards the door. He went stiff the moment you pulled him into you, but you let him work through it as you wound your arms tightly around him, hooking the fingers of one hand in his belt loops, making it clear you weren’t going anywhere. You used the other hand to stroke gently down his back, heedless of the water and blood that began to dampen your clothes, breathing in the scent of whiskey and leather, of gun oil and rain and blood. “Stop worrying about my clothes or the floors, you silly man,” you said softly, setting your chin on his shoulder as his breath hitched. “I don’t care about those. I care about you, Michael. No matter what happens, that won’t change. I’ll stand here all night with you if I have to.”

He choked out a shaking breath against your hair, and you could feel it the moment he began to break, his hands tentatively finding their way around your waist, as if he were still half-convinced it would be rejected. Something far warmer than rain dripped against your neck. “Why?” he whispered. “I don’t understand. I have nothin’ ta give ya. Ta give anyone. I keep tryin’ to be what everyone needs, but I can’t even do tha’ right. Why do ya keep openin’ the door for a broken man, pet?”

“You might be hurt, but you’re far from broken,” you murmured, turning your head to lay it on his shoulder as his hold gradually tightened around you, his hands beginning to fist in the fabric of your shirt. Another shaky breath from him, more of his tears falling against your throat as he finally let his head fall to your neck, accepting what you’d offered. “I let you in because I just need you. You’re who I want. So you can let go, Mikey. There’s nothing here you need to fix, no one else you need to be.” 

That was all it took, and between one breath and the next, he crumbled in your arms, the entire terrible night, terrible year, terrible life tearing its way out of him in choked sobs. You held him as tightly as you could, soft, soothing whispers in his ears, your hands running gently down his back and through his hair as he let go of every last wall he’d put up between him and the outside world. 

It took time for that wave of emotion to ease, time you spent with your head on his shoulder, with your chest to his, until eventually the shaking of his body began to slow, his breath easing against your throat. Only then did you guide him to the bathroom, taking the time to clean him up. He accepted the care silently, his eyes half closed, his form slumped and exhausted, drained after the emotional release. You knew better than to press before he was ready, so you let the quiet have its place, though every now and then you’d lift his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

You left him alone just long enough for him to change. You were glad he now kept a few changes of clothes here. It was another unspoken intimacy between you both, the knowledge that this place was a retreat for him just as his home sometimes was for you, even if neither of you had said as much. Once he was changed, you tipped your head before heading towards the bedroom. He hesitated, just for a moment, and you paused in the doorway, waiting.

It wasn’t every time he came here that you both wound up curled up together. Just on those bad nights, those nights when one of you needed each other’s presence to act as a shield against nightmares, against grief or hurt. Until now, however, it had always taken place on the couch, the two of you dozing off together under the excuse that you’d never intended to fall asleep at all. Tonight, however, you just… thought he deserved a bed. That you and he had never taken this step before hung heavy between you, weighted and intimate. Neither of you had dared offer access to the other’s bed until now. Hell, you hadn’t even kissed yet, though there’d been… moments when you’d both come close, dancing along that edge. Somehow you knew there’d be no going back after this, no more pretending, even if no one had believed either of you before now when you’d both sworn you were simply friends.

And after a long moment… the soft padding of his footsteps began to follow. 

The bed came first, soft sheets and the gradually returning warmth of him, one of your arms draped over his waist as he buried his face in your hair, the two of you twined together so closely that there was no space at all between you. 

Then came his voice, the soft lilt of it soothing you as much as your touch seemed to be soothing him. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without ya’,” he sighed, his breath slowly easing. He nuzzled at you gently, and you tipped your head up to meet his eyes. The warmth in them took your breath away, filled with a tender light and a devotion so deep you knew you could spend the rest of your life searching for the end and never find it. “Every time I think I’ve lost who I am, yer’ there ta bring me back. I feel… I feel real when I’m with ya’. I…” 

His eyes searched yours for a moment before he seemed to make a decision. He dipped his head down slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. Instead, you tilted your head back, your hand sliding up to tangle in his hair as his lips met yours. 

The kiss was a soft, new thing, fragile as spun strands of glass. His lips still tasted a little of copper and whiskey, chapped from the cold night air, but his breath was warm, and his mouth moved against yours with a hesitance that swiftly gave way to confidence as you leaned into him, using your fingers in his hair to pull him in closer. His name on your lips was a sigh, a gift to him, one he breathed down as if he wanted to draw it down into the very heart of him. When he finally pulled away, he lay his forehead against yours, his eyes falling closed. You reached up to stroke your fingers warmly against his cheek, and he smiled, eyes crinkling, even if they stayed closed. “Wanted ta do that for a long time, now,” he admitted. “Not long after we met, if ’m honest.” “I may or may not have wanted the same thing,” you huffed softly, his smile growing. 

“Can I take ya ta breakfast tomorrow?”

You made a contented noise as you curled into him, and he wound around you, the two of you getting comfortable for the night. It felt… permanent, as if you two had simply been waiting to find your way here, this place you were both meant for. 

“I’d love that.”

And maybe tomorrow... you'd tell him you loved him, too.

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: NIGHTMARE 🐟✨

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"Waking Nightmare" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)🌧️

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 7. Took an extra day to work on it cause this is a very angsty one, since our prompt was 'Nightmare' and I went with the classic, 'he accidently swings at you while asleep' trope (many thanks to @sunflowersandsapphires and @shouldbestudying41 for helping me with our chats on this one!). You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 5.2k

Warnings for this chapter: BIG angst warning on this one, along with a warning for being hit (not intentional), nightmares, guilt, blood, Matt's convinced he committed DV so that is discussed.

It began, like so many disasters did, with a series of small fractures. 

What started as a horrible week turned out to be the harbinger of a truly terrible month for Matt. Despite near-constant, frantic late nights of casework at Nelson and Murdock, the firm lost two important cases in short order. Both cases had been a long shot when it came to success, but that had done little to soften the blow to Foggy, Karen, and Matt—especially Matt, who’d made promises to client families that he’d been unable to keep.

Matt’s work as Daredevil hadn’t gone much better. A new gang had moved into the Kitchen and set up shop, staking out a territory drenched in blood, ash, and terror. Matt had thrown himself into that fight with the same determination that he always did, and while he’d made serious progress breaking down their operation, there had still been losses. As far as he was concerned, the lives lost in the past month—the three targeted victims in the burning apartment complex he’d been unable to reach in time, and the two store clerks shot and killed in their shops before he could make it to them—were caused by his own personal failings. Despite your best attempts to convince him otherwise, the perceived blood on his hands had only driven him to devote himself even more ferociously to his work at night and during the day.

That devotion snowballed rapidly into a lack of sleep, often the first casualty in Matt’s life when things got stressful or busy. The exhaustion only sent him spiraling further into bouts of anger and a retreat behind his emotional walls. He snapped at you whenever you tried to talk to him about it, shying away from the kind touches he felt he didn’t deserve. While a quiet apology almost always came later in the night, soft and full of regret, it didn’t change the fact that you could see him beginning to splinter and crumble beneath the pressure he’d placed on himself, your Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. You’d gone through this with him before, the periods in which it all seemed to go wrong and he refused to strap on the lifevests you stubbornly threw to him over and over again. As best you could tell, when these storms came there was no other option but to simply plant your roots deep and ride it out with him, ensure he knew he wasn’t alone. And when he finally fell to pieces, giving beneath the weight, you’d make sure he had a loving hand to help him glue his bloody, broken pieces back together. 

You’d thought that fracturing would come from something on the streets. Another death, maybe, or sheer exhaustion. 

You’d never expected it to happen here.

Not at home. 

“You’re going out?” You watched him dig through his father’s trunk for his suit, his back to you. He’d only just returned from another late night at the office. The only reason you were seeing him at all was because you’d woken up thirsty, heading out to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The distance between you both abruptly felt so much farther than a meager ten feet, so much harder to cross. Still, you tried. “It’s almost two. Some rest might—” “Don’t,” he said tightly, yanking his mask out and tossing it back onto the couch. He pulled out the rest of his suit next along with his billy clubs. His movements were unnaturally stiff, almost robotic. “I need to…” He sucked in an uneven breath, reaching up to run an exhausted hand through his dark hair.  After a moment, he dropped his hand, going back to what he’d been doing. If anything, your implication had only made him more determined, his voice now resolute and closed off. “Our appeals aren’t going well. The city’s quiet for the first time in a month, but that might not last. I need to go out. Just for an hour or two. Go back to bed.”

You gnawed on your lower lip in thought as he stalked over to the couch. Without his shirt, it was so much easier to see the lines of stress and tension cutting their way through him like winding roads, his muscles drawn up tight and hard. The bruising along the canvas of his back and ribs stood out with every neon flash of the billboard beyond the windows, adding a layer of blood red to the spiraling waves of deep blue and sullen indigo painted on his skin. That he’d been hurt even with the protection of the suit told you just how bad it had gotten out there. He needed rest, desperately. You both knew it. But you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to keep him here, forcing him to listen to the sounds of the city without being able to do anything about it. It was a promise you’d made to yourself, once, and you intended to keep it.

“Ok, D.” You kept your tone gentle. He’d hear you even across the room. “Ok. Come back safe.”

Some of his tension eased at your agreement, and he slowed where he’d been opening up his suit, preparing to step into it. Had he really thought you’d fight him? 

“I…” He shook his head after a moment. He turned until you could see him in profile, that same red light now highlighting the dark, bruised shadows beneath his eyes. But for just a moment, there was the barest softening in his expression, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. You knew this look, this hand stretched out through the bars of the darkened prison cell he’d found himself trapped within. “I love you,” he said softly. “So much. I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry.” 

“I know. Don’t worry about me for now. We’ll work it out. Just be careful tonight.” You tilted your head as he took a few tentative steps towards you. You took your own small step, cautious like you were approaching a stray who might run if you moved too quickly. He lifted his hand once you were within reach, the back of his fingers stroking lightly, tenderly against your cheek. You turned and brushed your lips fondly against his fingers, your eyes fluttering shut as you soaked in the warmth of his skin. It was the most intentional touch you’d gotten from him in a week, outside those moments in his sleep when he held you close, and god, were you grateful for it, something in you easing at the return of his affection. It meant he was coming out of this, swimming back up to the light and out of the void he’d been lost in. Sometimes you wondered if him denying himself your touch wasn’t just another way he punished himself when his darker thoughts seized hold of him. “I love you, too.”

“Go back to bed, sweetheart.” He tipped your chin up so he could place a tired kiss on your forehead before he let you go and returned to his suit. His motions, at least, seemed more settled now. “I’ll be back in an hour if it’s quiet, I promise. I’ll find a way to make it up to you this weekend.”

You left him there in the living area, more content than you’d felt in weeks. Sure, the past month had been shit for you both, but you were coming out of it now just like always. You fell asleep comfortably with that knowledge, cradling it inside you against your heart as you drifted off. 

You weren’t sure what it was that woke you later. Not at first, anyway. The bedroom was dark and quiet, save for the usual sounds of the city at night that leaked in through the closed windows. Matt’s arms weren’t around you, but it was possible he hadn’t gotten back yet. Without any other signs of danger, you gave a soft huff of irritation. Figures. Waking up over nothing. You shifted your head around on the pillow until you found a nice cold spot, closed your eyes, and began to drift back off. 

Then you heard it again behind you.  

Your brow furrowed, eyes blinking back open.

Right, now you knew it wasn’t just a dream. 

The sound you’d heard wasn’t quite a moan. It wasn’t a word, either. Hell, you didn’t know what to call it, exactly, but it definitely wasn’t a happy noise, that much you knew. This sounded… almost pained, hitched and edged with something like panic. You blearily rolled over to get a better look, still half-asleep.

Apparently Matt had gotten back while you were asleep, the shadowy outline of him curled up on the opposite side of the bed. He was also facing away from you, which was… odd. Most nights, he slept with you in his arms—or him in yours on particularly bad nights. That he’d either consciously or unconsciously placed this much distance between you would have stirred the smoldering embers of worry if you’d been more awake. It wasn’t right that he was over ther, curled in on himself, small and isolated, a lonely island in the sea of silk sheets. As you watched, he twitched restlessly, before making that same small, pained noise you’d heard before. Or was it scared? 

Nightmare, you thought sleepily. That explained the distance. He’d probably just rolled away in his sleep. You yawned, untangling yourself enough from your cocoon of blankets that you start crawling over towards him. Clearly this was one of those nights when he was the one that needed to be held. You weren’t entirely sure why your presence helped to soothe his nightmares, but for whatever reason, your arms around him and your breathing against his back, your heartbeat pressed against his back, was often all he needed. Even if he woke up when you got over to him, he’d have an easier time falling back asleep with you holding him. He always did. Especially after such a terrible month. 

You yawned again when you finally settled down behind him, throwing one arm over his waist and spooning affectionately up against his back. He stirred slightly at that, his body going tense and hard, his chest resonating with a soft growl. But he quickly quieted, soothed at the sound of your voice.

“It’s ok, Matt,” you said sleepily, breathing slowly, intentionally against the hard line of his back. “You’re ok, sweetheart. Just a bad dream.” You tucked your legs up behind his, nuzzling over onto his pillow, hunting for him even as your eyes fell shut again. You’d kick yourself later, for what you did next. 

Without thinking, you leaned in… and brushed a firm kiss against the back of his neck. 

Just like that, the peace, the calm was shattered. 

A wild snarl filled the air, followed by a sudden, blinding explosion of pain across your face that lit up the black behind your eyes like a skyline of fireworks. Before you could even cry out, you’d been thrown clear of the bed. You only just avoiding cracking your temple on the corner of Matt’s nightstand. But what your head missed, the rest of your body didn’t. As you slid across the nightstand and came crashing to the ground, you brought down every last object on the nightstand with you, glass and metal shattering somewhere far away from where you were, the whole of the world gone thick and quiet. 

Things got fuzzy then, a sickening carnival maze of light spinning in your vision every time you blinked. Your dazed thoughts were thick, slow to come together. But, still, you tried, because something was very, very wrong. 

Matt. 

Yes. You needed to find Matt. He was probably out on the streets still. It was the only way someone could have broken in just to hit you like an asshole. You weren’t sure where you were crawling too exactly, but away from the threat felt like a good start. As you moved, something hot and wet began to pour down your face in steady streams, irritating and coppery whenever it made it into your mouth. Fortunately, that was a distant problem. You could worry about whatever was on your face later. Your only concern at the moment was holding your attacker off until Matt could get here and kick some fucking ass. 

A pair of feet slammed against the floor, someone calling out, panicked and frantic. The sound was far too garbled for you to understand it immediately, but what it did tell you was that your attacker was still close by. There wasn’t anything around you that you could easily use to defend yourself, or at least, there wasn’t until your hand bumped into something long and metallic. You snatched it up, ignoring the sudden appearance of pain in your palm as you did so. You dragged it with you, metal squealing across the floorboards as you scrambled on your hands and knees. In seconds, you’d made it out of the bedroom and into the living area. 

Good. When Matt came through the rooftop door, he’d have less distance to cross to get to you. You’d also be able to see your attacker better in the flash of the billboard lights, though the flashing sea of red light made your eyes water and burn. But you could also feel your vision clearing, which was great. You’d need it. 

A shaking, trembling hand brushed against your shoulder. 

You rose up swiftly on your knees, metal rod clutched tight in both hands. “Get away from me!” you snarled, putting every last ounce of strength you had into your motion as you twisted and swung. 

And Matt—

What?

—snapped his hand up, catching the lamp rod just before it could hit him in the face. 

“...Matt?” you asked shakily, unable to hide your confusion. “It was you?”

“This can’t be happening, no, no no no,” he choked out tearfully, his breath coming panicked and wild. His tone was so ragged you almost didn’t recognize the voice as his. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re bleeding, I-I’m sorry, I’m so—”

The lamp rod fell from your paired grips. Hands shaking, he brought them up tentatively towards your face. He stopped just before he could touch you, hovering them a breath away from your skin. The first of his tears began to trail down his cheeks, his expression twisting in what you alarmingly recognized as grief. You’d seen him cry before, but never like this. “God, I-I didn’t know it was you, I’m sorry, I thought you were…”

He was… apologizing. But that didn’t make sense, no matter how much you tried to force the idea to settle into your dazed mind. It couldn’t have been Matt. You weren’t afraid of Matt. Matt didn’t hurt you. He didn’t hit you. Those were facts, as irrefutable as gravity, as reliable as the rise and the fall of the sun. You didn’t understand, just like you didn’t understand why he wasn’t holding you. He always did when you were hurt. “You… you hit me?”

The low, agonized noise he made was inhuman. It was the sound of a wounded animal, of someone who’d just been carved open. His hands drew back from your face, dropping down towards your hands where they’d settled on your thighs, though he seemed just as hesitant to touch you there. Tears dripped down from his face, joining the droplets of thick, deep red now scattered across the floor. Had you left all fo that there? You really… were bleeding, weren’t you?

“I-I… I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t,” he whispered brokenly, his breath hitching with what was almost a whimper. He grabbed one of the blankets off the chair next to him, the one you loved to curl up under with him. He slid it as gently as he could around one of your hands—oh, you were bleeding there, too, just a little, goddamn cheap lamp—though he avoided allowing his skin to brush against yours. “I was… having a nightmare, and I thought-I thought you were someone else, they had you and I was trying to-to get to you but someone grabbed me and I—God, you have a concussion, your nose is-is bleeding. I have to call Claire, get away from you b-before I… I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry—”

Finally, the idea settled into your mind, the world abruptly righting itself. 

The nightmare.

Well, that made sense.

You still weren’t quite thinking right, thoughts thick and fuzzy like wisps of cotton, a massive, throbbing ache in your head and face that only got worse every time the billboard lit up. But you you’d been right. Matt didn’t hit you. He hadn’t hit you, because he hadn’t known it was you. Hell, he’d even apparently been trying to save you, at least in his nightmare. It seemed simple enough to you, an obvious accident. But it didn’t seem quite so simple to Matt. You reached for his cheek. “Matt,” you soothed, your words only a tiny bit slurred as he sniffled and wrapped the blanket tighter around your hand, applying firm pressure to stop the bleeding. “It’s ok, Matt. You didn’t mean it.”

But the second your fingertips brushed against his skin, he threw himself backwards and out of your reach, his dark eyes wild. “Don’t!” he spat.  You faltered just a little, suddenly unsure. But you quickly shook it off, shakily climbing to your feet to follow after him. Your own injuries felt secondary in that moment, because this… this was the wound, the disaster that might do you both in if you didn’t find some way to stop it. Your bloody nose and hand could wait. “You didn’t mean it, Matt. It was an accident.” 

For every step you took forward, he took one back, the two of you performing some twisted, heartbreaking sort of dance across the floor. Eventually you cornered him against the wall, hemming him in. He was almost shaking as you stepped in close. Your hand rose and this time around, you successfully managed to cup his jaw, trying to press your affection, your calm into his skin. “Easy, Devil-Man. I’m ok,” you murmured. You swiped one thumb over the trail of tears sliding down his cheek, a new one appearing each time you’d cleared away the last, an endless stream of them falling from his grief-stricken eyes as they darted sightlessly around you. “This wasn’t your fault. Help me get cleaned up and then we’ll talk about it, ok?” 

He hitched a soft, quiet breath when you tugged his head down, his forehead pressed to yours like he’d done for you so many times before. You breathed with him for a moment, trying to ease him down.  He swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering closed as you stroked your thumb against his cheek, and for a moment, you almost thought you’d managed to fix it. 

A breath. 

His jaw clenched, and your heart sank.

This time when his eyes opened, all traces of warmth in them were gone. Whatever door you’d once pried open was now shut, slammed resoundingly in your face. “No. It’s not ok.” He brushed your hand away, sliding out from between you and the wall without so much as a pause. He reached up to wipe away his tears, the motion sharp and edged with tension. “Where are you going?” “I need to call Claire to come look you over,” he said flatly, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll use my burner. Mine was on the… the nightstand.” The brief crack in his voice, a brittle chip in the armor he’d just tried to throw up around himself, only confirmed what you’d hoped you could avoid.

“Matt,” you said softly. “Don’t lock me out like this.”

He may have been aiming for calm but he couldn’t hide what he was feeling, not entirely anyway. Not when his hands were still trembling as he felt around on the kitchen counter, acting like he hadn’t heard you. “I’ll call Foggy, too. Once they’re here, I’ll go.” 

“What?” You watched in disbelief as he kept hunting along the counter. With every second that passed and he failed to find it, he grew more frustrated, more angry. He quickly turned his back to you, body stiff like he was expecting a sudden blow. “You’re you’re leaving me?” “I hit you,” he spat viciously, another seething wave of emotion bubbling up through the cracks of his voice like acid, bitter and toxic and just as liable to burn. Here it was, here it was: the self-loathing, the disgust, the burning hatred. He drew in a sharp breath, shivering as he did. And on the exhale, he seemed to have regained control. His voice rapidly returned to that same cold, emotionless monotone, though he kept his face out of your view. Whatever expression he had would give him away, you were certain of it. “I almost broke your nose. You have a concussion. You cut yourself trying to get away from me. I’ve put men in the hospital for a lot less. You’re not safe with me—”

“That’s horseshit,” you huffed, starting towards him on wobbly legs. You had to stop and grab one of the chairs just to keep your balance and halt you from pitching over onto the floor. Not that it was a concern; no matter how upset Matt was, he’d catch you. But still, you falling would only make things worse. You forced yourself to breathe through the roiling in your stomach, unsure if it was the concussion that was making you nauseous or simply the knowledge that he was trying to leave you. But you wouldn’t let those fucking voices in his mind—ones that probably sounded like Stick—drive him away from you. Not without a fight. At least your nose seemed to have stopped bleeding. That was a good sign. “It was an accident. We both know it. This just—it happens something with nightmares, including non-vigilantes, Matt. I’ve woken up scared and smacked you in the face more than once, and you know it.” 

“You didn’t throw me across a nightstand or give me a concussion.” He barked out a bitter laugh. The hateful sound filled you with dread, as did the heartbreaking resolve beneath it. He’d already made up his mind, convinced himself of what he’d done. “I always knew. That’s what they all said. That I was cursed. That I had the Devil inside me. That all I wanted was to hit someone. This is who I am. I wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but deep down, I knew. And now I hurt you. I can’t let that happen again, even if it means I have to leave to keep you safe.” 

“Matt,” you said desperately, managing to make it to the couch, bracing yourself against the arm of it. If you could just get to him, you could fix this. You knew that. “That’s not true. Let’s just talk about this.”

Matt ignored you again, snatching up his keys and starting towards the hall. “I can’t find my burner,” he said. That tone, flat and empty of all feeling, was so much worse than anger. You’d take anger any day—you’d take grief, or hurt. Emotion meant you had a way in, that he’d opened himself to you, baring all the parts of him left vulnerable and raw. This tone, though…You couldn’t help but feel like you were banging your bloodied fists against a door abruptly chained shut. “Keep pressure on your hand. I’m going next door to ask for their phone so I can call Claire. I’ll only be gone for a minute, then I’ll be back. I’ll find somewhere else to stay once she’s here to take care of you.”

No. 

No, he couldn’t leave you over an accident. Your heart rate shot up, rattling against the lump in your throat. You almost felt like you couldn’t breathe, panic crushing your lungs in their grip, something that made him him stiffen. And you-you couldn’t let him leave, not like this, not when he might not come back. There had to be something, some way to reach him and keep him from destroying, burning down the best thing in both of your lives. And there was only one method that might work in a moment like this.  

Holding up a mirror.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. 

And Matt… froze in the hall, a mere three steps from the front door. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, more firmly now. You didn’t bother to hide the waver in your voice. You drew in a slow breath, exhaling just as slowly. It wasn’t blood running down your face, now, and he’d know it. “I’m sorry for scaring you. For touching your neck in your sleep. I know how vulnerable it is, and how you feel about it being touched by anyone other than me. I didn’t think about what touching that might feel like during a nightmare.” 

“Stop apologizing,” he growled, his shoulders drawing up tight. “They’re not the same thing, and you know it.”

But despite his objections, he hadn’t moved. He hadn’t left yet. Hell, maybe he’d found he couldn’t. Not when you were injured. You’d take it if it meant you had a chance.

“Aren’t they the same?” You reached up with your good hand, sniffling a little as you wiped some of the blood off your face. “According to you, they are. It doesn’t matter what I meant to do, right? Just that I did something that led to me hurting you. And this is hurting you. I can tell.” You choked out a wobbly laugh when he flinched. You used that break in his armor to edge closer, praying you didn’t stumble and fall, losing the ground you’d just gained. “Do you remember when I slipped and dropped that bowl last month and it shattered and cut your feet?” 

“That’s not—”

“I had to pick shards of porcelain out of your poor bare feet. I felt horrible.” Another step. Then another. “Remember when I smacked you in the face during my nightmare last January? Split your lip and everything.” You caught one hand against the shelving unit by the hall, taking a split second to breathe, more tired than you wanted to admit. “You told me those weren’t my fault. You even fucking laughed about your lip. But if this accident is your fault, then all those times are my fault, and so is this one, if you think about it. So I’m sorry, Matt.”  

“I hit you,” came his voice, trembling and uneven. You had a feeling those three small words were your target, spiraling on loop in his mind, their sharp edges tearing into him over and over again. His head slowly dropped, his body curling in on itself as you stopped a few feet away. He shuddered then, and without being able to see his face, you couldn’t tell if it was shame or just… hurt. “Don’t apologize when I hit you. I threw you across the room. I-I hurt you.” 

“Oh, Matt,” you whispered. You took another step, at last coming within touching distance where you might be able to reach him. “It was an accident, sweetheart. You didn’t mean it. You didn’t know it was me. But… but if you want to talk about hurting me, let’s talk about this here.” He stilled when he felt the first gentle touch of your hand against his back. Warm, unafraid, tender. 

“If you’re worried about hurting me, this is how you’d do it,” you said softly, trailing your fingers down the line of his spine with all the love you had in you. “By leaving, Matt. By leaving me here without you when I love you more than anything or anyone else in the world. Don’t do that to me. Please.” This time the sound he made was a broken sob, one hand rising up to fist in his hair. He sank slowly to the ground. You sank with him, winding your arms tight around him as he finally broke, shattering beneath the weight of his guilt. When he didn’t reject your touch, you quickly shifted around him, climbing into his lap. His arms found their way home around your waist, clinging to you tight as you rocked him in your arms, his face buried against your neck, tears flowing hot to join the blood still clinging to your skin. “I’m sorry.” His voice was thick with sorrow, each breath one he had to fight for.  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you, I’m sorry—” “Listen to me. This was not your fault. I promise, baby,” you whispered, lifting his head to press your forehead to his like you had before. His eyes were shut, but they fluttered open just for you, as he finally, finally let you back in. You could almost see the torment swirling in them, the guilt, but that was alright. If you could see those shadows, you could fight them. “You were asleep, Matt. You were dreaming. You can’t control what your brain does then. If it thinks there’s a threat, it’s going to react without your input. Do you know how I can be so sure you won’t hurt me? How this all just proved I’m safe with you?” His blank gaze shifted around you, one shaking hand coming up to trace your smile in open disbelief. 

“Because the second you woke up, you were horrified.” You leaned into him, running the fingers of your good hand through his hair as he let out another shaky, breathless sob. “The second you woke up and realized it was me, it just broke you. You would never choose to hurt me, Matt. You're not a violent person, even if you've been taught to use it out there. A bad man doesn’t react like you did. A good man does. You are a good man, do you hear me? And if you leave?” You found his hand with your good one to lace your fingers together and squeeze, his eyes fluttering closed, as did yours. “I swear to God I’ll go stand in an alley in my pajamas and scream that until you have to come protect me from every mugger in the Kitchen. Which will only prove my point that you’d never let anything or anyone hurt me.”  He choked out a quiet, watery laugh, letting you bring his head back down to your throat. His tearful groan at the affection just made you cling to you tighter. “I love you,” he hitched out. “I love you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry. God forgive me, I’m so, so sorry.” 

“I love you, too, Matt,” you whispered, burying your face in his hair. “It’s not your fault. Don’t let your nightmare knock us out this easily. Get back up. Stay, and fight for me, for us. Can you do that for me?”

You felt his eyes fall closed, and for the first time since he’d woken up, you heard a different kind of resolve in his voice: one that was far more familiar, far more welcome, solid and warm and steadfast, a strength you’d happily build your life upon, as he let your love seep in through the cracks to at last chase away some of the dark.

His breath eased out against your skin, soft and familiar. “I… ok. I can do that.”

“Good.”

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Please look at me."🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Night Shift

Description: It’s been 10 years since Axl has seen Slash. The day his stepfather picked him up from Slash’s house was the last time he saw him. Now, they meet again.

Relationship: Axl Rose x Slash, Axl Rose x Izzy Stradlin

Prompt: “Please look at me” (Day 14)

Part 7 of “You’re My Red Rose”

Content Warning: Implied Mpreg

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1991

Axl walked through the halls of Tower Records, making his nightly checks as night manager. He was on the second floor where the studios were located to see if none of the equipment had been stolen. When he was walking to the last room a tidal wave of laughs were coming up the staircase. A group of five men were walking together with beers in his hand. Axl was going to tell them that they couldn’t have any food and drinks in the building when the site of the third man stopped him in his tracks.

It was…Slash.

They hadn’t seen each other since that night John threatened his father with his shotgun. Several emotions flowed through his body. Confusion, sadness, and anger were to name a few. He couldn’t move to hide. Slash spotted him as well. They stood there, staring at each other for several awkward seconds.

“Hey, guys, go ahead into the studio. I’ll be back in a minute.” Slash directed.

The dude, who had even curlier hair than Slash, briefly looked at Axl and smiled at him. He gave a small laugh and the group disappeared into the room. Slash started to walk towards him. Tears started to form in his eyes for the first time in years. To hide it, he looked down at his feet. His vision began to blur. He covered his face as the tears couldn’t be controlled any longer.

“Please look at me, Axl.” His sweet voice begged.

Axl struggled to. Every time he attempted to lift his head, it would just go right back down as more tears brewed. He was married and had a kid. This was wrong. He shouldn’t be having feelings for another, especially for someone who left him hanging for years. The last time they saw each other was against his will. Slash avoided him. Axl would try to approach him and he would go the other way. He went years wondering what his problem was. Slash gave him no closure. He had no choice but to let him go.

“I’m married.” Axl declared. “I have a daughter as well.”

His face dropped in shock. “Th-That’s great, Axl. I’m currently in a band called Tidus Sloan.”

“That’s cool.” He looked at the clock on the wall. 11:25 pm. “My shifts almost over. I should be heading out.”

“Ok. See you later?”

Axl nodded silently and headed downstairs. He got into his car, then began punching his steering wheel. Axl left Lafayette to not be reminded of the torture that town had put him through. He wasn’t prepared for one of the memories to bump into him at his job. And for the feelings to still be there after all these years.

His husband, Jeffrey, was sitting on the couch watching tv, waiting for him to come home like he always does. After taking off his shoes and setting them by the door, Axl bent down and kissed him.

“You had any trouble with Isla today?” Axl asked his routine question.

“No, she’s been an angel for once. She even went to sleep on time.” Jeffrey reported.

Isla was two years old and already showing signs that she had Axl’s temperament, which was a fear he had when he was pregnant. The pediatrician said her attitude was pretty normal for children her age, but he was still fearful of the possibility that she would never grow out of this. Axl worked from 3:30 to 11:30 at night for five days a week, which meant Jeffrey was home with her most of the day.

“So how was work?” He asked, hugging Axl from behind.

He grabbed hold of one of his giant hands. “It was fine until I ran into one of my exes”

“Who?” Axl could hear the anger in his voice.

Axl didn’t keep anything from Jeffrey. It was in the vows to not hold secrets and, so far, both of them have been honest with each other. He wanted this marriage to work.

“It was Saul. My very first boyfriend in matter of fact. His band is recording at the studio.”

“Did he say anything?” Jeffrey wondered.

Axl shook his head. “Not much. I told him I was married and he walked off.”

Jeffrey happily kissed his cheek. “This is why I love you.”

If only he knew what he really felt about him.

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Playful Kiss🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 13 - Playful Kiss

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Word Count: 636 Content: Fluff, Gojo being Gojo, some more of Gojo and reader at Jujutsu High together Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: I had a completely different idea for playful kiss, but that was only after I had finished writing this one. It still plays out the same, but it's a different situation. . . I might post it separately from the Tuna-Tober prompts 👀. Be sure to like, reblog and comment if you wanna read more like this!

You always had a set of rules when it came to sparring with Satoru Gojo.

He couldn’t use his infinity.

You had to stay within school grounds.

You couldn’t use your technique against him.

Fairly simple rules and you both stuck to it pretty well. You wanted to improve on your hand to hand combat and Gojo needed to be less reliant on his infinity to keep him safe. You keep reminding him of that but he always shrugs your concern off; he’s the strongest after all, he doesn’t need to improve.

You only needed those three rules. . . until the incident.

Gojo has you pinned down flat on the training grounds, a teasing smile on his face.

“And here I thought you wanted to improve,” He looks down at you, “But now I get to look at you pinned underneath me.” You flush and look away from him. He’s been flirting with you for a few months now but he never once acts on it. Embarrassment washes over you as you think about how easily his words have an affect on you even after all this time.

“One more round?” You mutter, still not looking towards him.

He stands up and reaches a hand down to you, “Only if you can handle losing to this pretty face again,” You smack his hand away and get up on your own.

“Yeah we’ll see about that,” You wipe the dirt off your face as you start to prepare yourself. 

He tilts his head to the side, standing in a casual position, not even bothering to put a single ounce into this fight. You run up towards him and he immediately dodges your attack, ducking down and moving to his left. 

“Come on pretty, I know you’re better than that,” He brings his arm up to block your leg from kicking into his face.

He tries to grab onto your ankle but you run past him before he has the chance. The only thoughts running through your brain are different strategies on how to catch him off guard.

Run up behind him? No, his six eyes tell him everything he needs to know about where you are. 

Maybe a black flash? You definitely don’t have enough cursed energy built up to do that yet.

You could always. . . kiss him. . .  

The thought enters your brain and you still for a moment. You turn around and Satoru is ready to pin you back down to the ground but before he can, your hands grab onto his collar and you kiss him.

His eyes widen before they close and he starts kissing you back, his hands wrapping around you. Before he can hold onto you, you push your arms against his, pull away from him and pin him to the ground.

Your face is a bright shade of crimson as he looks at you with shock.

“See I told you I-I’d win this time, I just-” you catch your breath, “I-I needed to-” 

He pulls you down to him and he kisses you again, more urgently this time. You stiffen, but as you keep kissing your body relaxes into his.

“You didn’t win that by the way,” Satoru says in between kisses. You pull away from him, his hands resting on your hips.

“I did win, thank you.”

“You cheated,” He says matter of factly, trying to lean you back down to his lips but you straighten up.

You bring your hands down on his chest, “I didn’t!”

“You kissed me, it doesn’t count!”

You argue about if you won or not and in the end Gojo decides to be nice and let you have the win. Now there’s a fourth rule between you two during sparring, no kissing each other.

You've both broken that rule more times than you can count.

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: WATER GUN FIGHT + TICKLING 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 5 - Sunlight

Prompts: 5 - Water Gun Fight + 17 - Tickling Character: Michael Kinsella Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Word Count: ~400 Warning: Tooth-rotting fluff, spoilers for Kin Season 1, referenced character death and drug use, past depressed mindset, vague but original child character Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @lulukings92, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Sunlight

It was amazing how much of a difference a few years makes.

If someone had told Michael Kinsella five years ago what his future held, he wouldn’t have believed them. At best he would regarded such predictions as the product of a diseased mind. At worse, a cruel joke.

Because, five years ago today, Michael wasn’t certain that he was going to survive the rest of the year.

Soon or later, if enough people were determined to kill him, one of them would succeed eventually. He’d make a mistake. Or he’d stop fighting. After all, what did he have to live for? His wife was dead. Jaime, the son he had never allowed to be anything other than Uncle Mikey to, was dead. Anna hated him. Everyone watched him with fear or disgust in their eyes. Including his own family at times.

Everyone seemed intent on pulling him back into that quagmire of crime and violence. Just like when he was kid desperately trying to escape that sucking pit, everyone turned their backs. Left him to drown in darkness and pain. Only this time, he couldn’t even numb himself to it with drugs and booze without making the seizures worse.

Not since it had first snapped shut on him at sixteen had the jaws of this trap hurt so bad.

Five years ago, Michael didn’t know that his impulsive decision to keep walking instead turning left toward his cold, empty house would change everything. Or that downpour would have him ducking into a little shop where he’d meet you, the love of his life.

Now he came home to a home filled with warmth and people who loved him. A life where his hands were used to create beauty instead of misery. Or to tickle his child until the little one’s delighted peels of laughter were the only thing he could hear.

Five years ago, Michael was condemned to be a bloody shadow stalking the twilight streets, a bringer of fear and death.

Today, he ran across the sunlight garden armed with a little green water pistol. The only thing he had to fear was Anna nailing him with another water ballon.

Or his toddler, with the giggling assistance of his pretty wife, ambushing him from behind the tree with the garden hose. While he fought for control of the hose, Anna started lobbing balloons at all of them. She had impeccable aim. Not that this saved her from the wrath of her younger sibling.

Needless to say, when it was time to go inside, everyone was thoroughly soaked.

And Michael couldn’t be happier.

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Are you blushing?" + Love Bites🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 4 - Dusty Rose

Prompt: 4 - “Are you blushing” + 6 - Love Bites Character: Matt Murdock Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 728 Warnings: Referenced sexual activity, swearing, teasing Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza, @justvalkyrie Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Dusty Rose

Matt just wanted to surprise you with breakfast.

It seemed like his plans were going off without a hitch. He had left you sleeping, naked and sated, in the bed while he dressed himself and silently slipped out of your room. He left no note, confident in his ability to return before you woke up. While Nevermore wasn’t the closest coffee shop, it was usually less busy at this hour than the Coffee Crab.

His first clue that something might be gone awry was the number of girls who giggled when he walked past them. A few wasn’t unusual but it seemed like every girl he passed ended up giggling and whispering to her friends comments like ‘true facts’ or ‘absolutely agree’. 

And he had no idea why.

It was a little tempting to stop someone and ask what was so funny. But he had a limited time to complete his mission so he decided to ignore it.

As predicted, Nevermore wasn’t too busy. The giggling continued to follow him but he continued to ignore it. Right up until he heard Foggy’s familiar heartbeat walked into the cafe and immediately began to snort like he was trying not to laugh. He had almost regained control of himself when he joined Matt at the back of the line. Only to immediately struggle again.

“Hey buddy,” Foggy said, throwing his arm over Matt’s shoulder. “Have fun last night?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, attempting to sound nonchalant. “Got a lot of studying done while I was sexiled from our room.”

“I’m sure,” Foggy said, his tone extremely skeptical. “Didn’t know you were taking biology this semester.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Dude, you’re wearing your girlfriend’s sweatpants,” Foggy said.

“What?!” Matt felt the pants and realized that Foggy was right. He had been so concerned about not waking you that he grabbed the wrong sweatpants out of the drawer . . .

“Which sweatpants?” he asked, having a sudden horrifying suspicion.

The grin spreading across Foggy’s face was clear as he answered, “Bright pink with ‘hot stuff’ written in red across the ass.”

Matt felt the blood flooding his face and knew he was blushing.

“Also . . .”

“There’s more?!”

Foggy couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. “Foggy!”

“That vee neck you’re wearing is showing off those hickies running down your neck. Didn’t know your girl was such a vampire.”

He hadn’t been unaware of those little bruises forming last night but he had been rather . . . distracted. “Oh . . . didn’t realize they’d be so visible.”

“Curse of that pale Irish skin, buddy,” Foggy said with a mixture of real and pretend sympathy. “Hickies are the most vivid purple on the planet. And you all but glow in the dark when you blush.”

This only brought more blood rushing to his cheeks. “That bad?”

“Your face is almost as red as the lettering on those pants.”

Foggy was momentarily prevented from further teasing by them reaching the counter. And thank all that was holy and good, the barista was utterly professional the entire time. Matt was able to get his order and walk back to your dorm with what little dignity he had left.

That you had woken up before he could return only added to his disappointing morning.

“Hey Matty,” you called out. He knew when you had spotted the sweatpants mishap by the quickly stifled laughter.

“You can laugh, sweetheart,” he said with a sigh. “Everyone else has.”

You immediately took him up on that offer. Managing to say between giggles, “Can’t say I disagree with those pants.”

Matt grumbled a little as he held out your coffee.

“Matty, are you blushing?”

“No,” he immediately denied.

“I don’t know, Matty,” you said, pretending to be thoughtful. “That dusty rose looks an awful lot like a blush to me.”

“It’s your imagination.” Which only made you laugh at him again.

“What woke you up?” He asked, hoping to change the subject.

“E-mail notification,” you said. “Our morning class was canceled.”

“Really?”

“Yep, nowhere to be until noon.”

“Darn, I could have slept in.”

“You could get some more sleep, if you want,” you said. “Or . . .”

“Or?” he asked huskily, feeling his cock swell as your scent of your arousal began to fill the air.

You let your robe drop to the floor. Leaving you naked once more. His mouth watered.

“Or you can fuck me, Hot Stuff.”

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: "You can sleep here tonight."🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Confessions

Hi Everyone! I haven’t watched The Walking Dead in years. So I was incredibly surprised when Shane decided to join me recently on a hot girl walk.

I didn’t have the time to rewatch the first season but I did use TWD Wiki to fill in some of my blank spots. I took a couple of small liberties in Shane’s past but it shouldn’t be distracting to any diehard fans.

Tuna-Tober Prompt: “You can sleep here tonight.” Pairing: Shane Walsh x F!Reader

Summary: You’re part of the group that ends up at the CDC during season 1 of TWD. You and Shane hook up after a few confessions. Some plot, lots of porn with feelings.

Content Warning: Unprotected PIV sex (don’t actually do that), hair pulling, no use of y/n, tenderness

Trigger Warning: Reader does get slightly overwhelmed at one point. But Shane notices something is off with her and checks in. Just an extra warning for more sensitive readers but everything here is consensual!

Word Count: 3,492

18+ below the cut. Thank you so much for reading! Gentle reminder that reblogs are the best way ro support writers on here. XOXO

“I almost can’t believe this is real.” You say as you sit down on the bed next to Shane. Your group had arrived at the CDC earlier today. After introductions and discussions with Dr. Jenner, everyone had the best meal they had ever eaten, succeeded by hot showers and fresh clothes. 

“This feels surreal.” You say as you sit on the bed, eyeing the room around you. “It’s been months since the outbreak. All I’ve seen is loss. My sisters, my parents, my boyfriend, every single one of my friends. Hell, I’ve even lost my cat. All gone. In almost the blink of an eye the entire world changed.” You said with a large sigh. 

“We used to think we were struggling working eight hours a day and trying to pay our bills. We didn’t know what struggle was. And now to sit here on a soft bed after taking a hot shower with plumbing in an air conditioned room is a shock. I never realized precisely how much I took for granted. Not only is this room safe but this building is safe, except I don’t think my body knows how to feel safe anymore.” You tell Shane as tears begin to well in your eyes. 

“I also don’t think I ever took time to grieve. The hits kept on coming and if you didn’t keep moving you were next. Now I’m here sitting in what I used to take completely for granted: food, shelter and safety. But how long will this last?” You shrug your shoulders, head hanging in despair. The hot stream of tears in your eyes starts pouring faster and Shane tugs you in, holding you closely. 

“I know darling, I know.” He cradles you as he kisses the side of your head and you begin to sob. 

“Just get it all out.” He says as he rubs calming circles on your back. 

Shane sat patiently with you on the bed. He whispered calming words and just held you as you let the emotions cascade out of you. Your chest heaving with the pain, low back starting to ache from the position you were sitting in.  When you felt like there was nothing left, you remained in his lap not wanting to ruin the intimate moment between the two of you. Not that your bodies weren’t familiar with each other. You two had been hooking up since you joined the crew but emotions were never involved. There wasn’t time for that in this world. 

Shane waited a few minutes once you had started settling down.“You can sleep here tonight.” He murmured, his voice landing gruffly as he whispered in your ear. 

”Yeah, I do. But Shane, I’m not up for sex tonight.” You say quickly, averting your eyes from his. Your body tenses as you wait for his response. Normally, you wouldn’t think twice about fooling around with Shane but crying had left you with a throbbing headache. You were also feeling tired and emotionally vulnerable. What you needed most was a good night’s sleep. 

“Don’t you ever be ashamed to turn me down. You don’t owe me nothing.” He says while grabbing your chin to move your face towards his. Then he gives you the softest kiss on the forehead before laying you both down. 

“Can you hold me?” You sniffled as you got comfortable on the plush bedding. 

“What do you miss from before the walkers?” You ask as Shane obliges your request. 

“Cold beer.” Shane quickly retorts. “And hot wings.” He chortles, lightening the mood.  

“I don’t blame you.” You giggle. “I miss getting my nails done. And going shopping. Especially at Target.”

”Hmm, you women did love your Target! I miss going to the bar after work with my buddies. I miss eating cheeseburgers. And the internet. Shit, why did you have to go and start reminiscing like this!?” He said teasingly. 

“Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry! It feels like I haven’t had a minute to just think lately, you know?” You sigh as you bite down on your lip. You hesitate but before you could stop yourself it slips out: But seriously. Is there anything else? Were you married? Did you have a family?” You roll over to face him, worrying that you were pushing the envelope with him. Shane was known to be a little hot around the collar, so you wanted to be able to see his reactions. You didn’t want to push any buttons and shut him down. 

His body tenses and he takes a large breath before speaking. 

“I was raised by my grandma Jean and she passed well before the world went to Hell and truthfully, I’m glad she wasn’t here to experience this. I don’t have any siblings but I consider Rick to be my brother. He and I grew up together. Graduated high school, went off to college and then ended up joining the force together.”

”Wait, I knew you and Rick were deputies together. I didn’t know you’ve known each other your entire lives.” Your mouth dropping at his admission. 

“Yeah. We did. I have some of my best memories with Rick. In fact, I think football is what I miss most. Football, cold beer and hot wings. That’s my final answer. You know after all this.” He nods, gesturing to the room. 

“Playing or watching?”

”Both.” He replies quickly. 

“Your number didn’t happen to be ‘22’ did it?” You ask as you finger his necklace.  

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “That was my number.” 

“So…” You pause, wondering again if you were wandering into dangerous territory. Your heart started picking up and your mouth felt dry but you knew if you didn’t ask now the timing may never be right again.“You must have known Lori and Carl before all of this?” You cautiously ask. 

Shane stiffens slightly once more before responding. “Yeah, we all met in college.”

”Listen, I know we’ve never had any discussions about whatever this is.” You say, motioning between the two of you. “ And you don’t owe me any explanations but is there something going on between you and Lori?” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could even think to stop them. You cringe as you held your breath waiting for his response, tension growing in the air. You had always felt something between him and Lori, despite her being married to Rick but now you had been slowly catching feelings with Shane you just had to know the truth. 

”Look” Shane sharply interrupts you and the tone of his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine. “I’m only going to tell you this once. Before the outbreak, Rick and I were on a call. He got shot and ended up in a coma. He was still in that coma when we had to evacuate the city. I took Lori and Carl to safety. They are just as much my family as they are Rick’s. I’m always going to feel responsible for them.” He barked, passion radiated from his body even after he was done speaking. 

You relaxed into him, appreciating the honesty. Your reaction shocked Shane. He was bracing himself for a fight, instead he found you slotting your legs between his and resting your forehead against his chest. 

“I completely understand that Shane. If I had anyone left from before I would cherish them as well.” You appreciated his honesty and besides, the world that we once knew was gone. That’s going to have an impact on relationship dynamics. Regardless, you felt safe with him and that was worth sticking around for, so long as everyone remained truthful. It did, however, bring up one more question for you. 

Swallowing hard before asking, “Do you think you have room for one more person?” 

“Yeah I think I can manage that sweetheart.” He rolls on to his back and pulls you along with him so that you end up positioned on his chest. A fresh pool of tears formed in your eyes again. You are overwhelmed by his softness with you as you cuddle into him closer. He held you tightly as you cried yourself to sleep. 

__________________________

You woke up first the next day. The emotional hangover clung to you like a cold, wet blanket. Until you realized where you were and recalled last night’s admissions. You rolled over to see Shane sleeping on his back. He looked so peaceful. You couldn’t help but to admire his features in the low light. 

“Good morning, love.” 

You jumped. Not only were you unaware that he was awake but the new pet name was surprising. It awakened a yearning in your low belly. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. But good morning.” You meekly reply as you roll over on your side, facing away from him. Your embarrassment got the best of you. You were afraid last night was going to be too much for him.

“C’mon girl, where are you going?” He asked as he followed you, one of his arms snaked under your pillow and the other wrapped itself around you, pulling you closer into him. 

“I just didn’t want to bother you.” You replied, relishing in the warmth and security his body provided. 

“How are you feeling today?” He whispered in your ear, lips gently trailing down the side of your neck as you melted into him. 

“I’m feeling better. But did you mean what you said last night? Are we a thing?” You ask, hoping that a good night of rest didn’t change his mind. 

“I meant every word.” His reply was peppered with kisses on the back of your shoulder, igniting the embers that glowed in your low belly.  

“I did too.” You whispered as you started to lightly grind yourself against his bulge. 

“You better be careful about starting something you don’t intend to finish.” He growled as you continued your movements against him, desire growing with each provocation. 

“Who said I didn’t want to finish?” You murmured. 

Your words made Shane groan as he ran his free hand across your abdomen, resting it on your hip. 

“Shit sweetheart, what am I going to do with you?” His voice was dangerous as he caressed the side of your body. His breath hitches as he realizes you weren’t wearing any panties. 

You could feel him getting harder and the reaction your body gave him made you tremble as you rolled on your back to kiss him. 

Shane grunted as you spread your legs to accommodate him. You deepened the kiss and he brought your hands up to rest near the top of your head, interlacing your fingers with his. You relaxed into the bed, enjoying as Shane took the lead. 

He slowly but firmly thrust his hips against yours. The thin pair of pajama pants he was wearing left nothing to the imagination against your bare skin. 

You open your mouth to let out a soft moan and Shane takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into yours. The sensation left you light headed and wanting more. 

His kisses were hungry and frenzied, as if he wanted to devour you. Soon your blood was buzzing in your ears. Shane’s breathing was picking up and you couldn’t stop yourself anymore from grinding back into him. Shane groaned as he broke a kiss. Stilling his hips against yours he silently skimmed his hands down your forearms, lifting his palms so that only his fingertips danced down your biceps. In any other circumstance the sensation may have tickled you but right now the pathway tracked heat down your body causing your nipples to harden and your center to dampen. 

The hazy look in your eyes made Shane chuckle before he swiftly tore your night shirt right down the middle. 

“Shane!” You gasp before bringing your hands down and snatching his shirt over his head. You shamelessly took in the view before you. Shane was in glorious shape and you weren’t sure which of the Gods should be thanked for the opportunity to see this man. 

“Wait.” The last bit of reason that wasn’t tainted by Shane in your mind wandered to the front. 

Shane stops his hands, resting them on your hips as he sat back on his knees, eyes reading your body language.

”Please tell me you have a condom?” 

“Hang on, I think I do.” You adjusted yourself so that he could grab his bag. Reaching in he grabs the small box of condoms that were found hidden between the racks of the last pharmacy the group managed to search. 

“Shit.” He replies, turning the box upside down. “We’re out.” 

“Of course we are.” You whined, laying back on the bed, throwing your forearm over your face. “I want you so fucking bad.” You lie there pouting, trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness that was growing between your legs. 

“Listen.” Shane tosses the empty box onto the floor before laying down beside you. “We don’t have to have sex. Can I touch you?” He pauses his hand on your pubic bone waiting for an answer. 

Against better judgment, you nod your head and your body sings as Shane’s hand touches you where you so desperately needed him. 

“You’re already so fucking wet for me.” Shane admires you as he teases his fingers along your slit. 

“You feel so good.” You gasp as he slowly slips two fingers inside of you. Exhaling, you bring your hand to rest on his forearm, fearing he would stop his ministrations with your center. 

The sight of you beneath him, moaning in pleasure was stunning to Shane. He leaned down and gently scatters kisses around your chest until he popped a nipple into his mouth. 

You arched your hips at the pleasure from both his hands and his mouth. He immediately curled his fingers into your g spot. You deeply moaned at the sensation. Your noises caused him to release his assault on your nipple and he met you with a sinful stare. 

“Shane, fuck me.” Your emboldened request shocked even yourself. ”Just don’t cum in me. Please.” You whined as your hands tangled into his hair, pulling him up to you for a filthy kiss. 

“You sure that’s a good idea princess?”

”No. But I don’t want to stop. And we can’t make a habit out of this.” You cautioned as you quickly untied the string to his pajama pants, greedily pulling them down his hips as soon as you could. 

“As you wish, my love.” He sharply exhaled as you held his cock firmly in your hand. The use of his pet name caused your eyes to close. 

There it was again -love. The four letter word you hadn’t realized you had been secretly yearning to hear but struck nerves at the possibility. Your brain wanted to ask the hard questions but the ease at which the phrase rolled off his tongue pleased you. His deft hands were already making your loosely formed questions disappear. 

You open your eyes and remember the task at hand. The sight of his cock was mouth watering and you firmly grasp him and jerk him off. 

You watch as Shane’s eyes close and you thumb at the bead of precum that was forming at its head. His brows furrowed and you notice how tense the muscles in his abdomen are. His breath started to pant which encouraged you to work him harder. 

“You feel amazing love but can I please fuck you now?” Shane whines as he withdraws his fingers from you. 

Nodding you move to spread your legs for him.

”No, pretty girl. Not today. Roll over.” 

A wave of shock and excitement rolled through you as you turned over. In your previous hookups, you were usually on top and you had to be incredibly discreet. This change of pace was exciting. 

Shane roughly grabbed you by the hips, pulling you up and back so that you were doggystyle on your knees in the middle of the bed. 

Anticipation washed over you and before you could figure out what he was going to do next, Shane laid a hard smack on your ass. With an open palm, he ran his hand up your backside, electricity following in his wake. He stopped at the base of your neck, giving you a gentle squeeze before he entangled his fingers in your hair. Keeping his hand close to your scalp, he grabbed a handful and pulled. 

You cried out in pleasure as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Is this ok?” 

You felt the weight of him pressed against your cunt and it made it hard for you to answer him. You meekly nodded and he laughed against your ear. 

“Yeah, I thought you might like this.” His tone was almost sinister as he tapped your arm, unconsciously asking you for it. 

You shifted your body, moving your head to the side, so you could kneel with your chest on the bed. 

Shane grabs your wrists together in one hand while he teases your entrance with his cock. 

The anticipation of finally feeling his bare skin on yours is overwhelming and your breath is coming out in hitches. But he continues to tease you. Pressing himself slowly against your hole, tip just barely entering you before slowly pulling back. 

“What are you waiting for?” You cry out and Shane just chuckles. 

“You know, I really like to take my time but since you're impatient, I guess this is it.” He said before he filled you up. 

You cry out at the mind numbing pleasure he gives you. 

Shane didn’t waste time and started to harshly fuck you. The pleasure was intense but soon, so was the position. The bliss was starting to mingle with the discomfort in your shoulders. You started to feel crushing weight in your chest and your arms felt uncomfortable. 

Shane took notice of your changing breath and at how stiff your body had become. “Hey, hey, hey, hey what’s going on?” He said in a soothing tone as he let go of your arms and stopped his movements. “Are you ok? Do you need me to stop?” He asked as he helped brush strands of hair out of your face. 

“No, we don’t have to stop but I don’t want you to hold my arms back.” 

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s ok hun. It just started to feel too intense” The pet name effortlessly rolled off your tongue. He didn’t seem to object to it and the unquestioning acceptance lit the fire in your body back up. 

“Can we keep going?” You ask as you prop yourself up on your elbows. 

“Absolutely.” Shane growls as he slaps you on the ass again, making you moan. He resumes his thrusting and you reach down to rub your clit. 

“Can you pull my hair again?” 

“I fucking love a woman who asks for what she wants.” He groans before he places one hand around your hip for support while the other pulls a handful of hair. 

“Omg, fuck that feels amazing.”

Shane keeps his pace as you feel yourself nearing the finish line. He pulls on your hair, making your back arch as you come up on your palms to conform to his request. 

“You’re doing so well for me.” 

All you can do is moan in response. 

Shane moved his free hand up your side body, over your shoulder trailing until his hand was loosely under your jaw, cradling your neck. 

He rubbed his thumb along your bottom lip and you popped it into your mouth, sucking on it like it was giving you life force. 

The heat at your coil was ready to boil over at any minute. Shane could feel you pulsing around him. 

“Sweetheart, you’re going to make me fucking cum.” 

His admission pushed you over the edge. Shockwaves rippled through you, causing reality to splinter and before you could realize what was happening you felt Shane pull out of you. You can hear him grunting as you are riding out the final waves of your organs. Moments later, his hot cum lay across your ass and you both lower down into comfortable positions. 

You lie there in post coital bliss for several minutes. And then reality crashed down. 

“How loud were we? Do you think people heard us?” Mortification echoed through you at the thought. 

“Uh, well, I guess that would depend on how far away they were from us.” He teased as he rubbed your back. 

“Listen, we’re all adults here and it’s the end of the world. If anything, they were probably jealous. Hang on a minute, I’ll get you cleaned up.” 

Shane looked around, deciding to use the shirt he ripped off you earlier to wipe up his spend. 

“C’mon, let’s take another shower and go get something to eat.” 

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Breast Worship 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

sweater weather

pairing: michael kinsella x fem! reader

word count: 1.3K

tuna-tober prompt: breast worship

summary: you’re michael’s first stop after he’s released from prison.

warnings: mdni 18+! swearing, reader has pierced nipples, breast worship, i have no idea how to write irish dialects, probably poorly edited, idk what else. 🙃

tagging: @yarrystyleeza

a/n: ngl, i struggled writing this one. just wanted to post it to maintain fidelity to the prompt posting schedule. thanks for reading?

The relationship you had with Michael Kinsella was unconventional. You’d been childhood best friends until he drifted towards crime. He always called you an angel because of your ability to always do the right thing. He admired you and wished he could have been more like you and led a simple, quiet life. 

When he went away to prison you would write him letters and visit when you could, you even started a monthly book club together. The time you spent in the visitation room at Mountjoy Prison was sacred to you. The quiet laughter, and smiles yielded to tender hand holding and tight hugs goodbye. You would forgo most things in your life for just one hour with Michael. You developed a deeper relationship through these one on one visits. In your delusional mind, they were like dates to you. Each visit left you craving more of him, more of his touch. Your friends and family all thought it odd that you hadn’t brought a guy around in this span of eight years. You knew it was crazy but you were half in love with Michael Kinsella and wouldn’t entertain the subject of other suitors. 

After a week spent running on empty you sought solace in your home. You had ordered your favorite takeout, read a book and drank some tea while some quiet music played in the background. The aroma of bergamot, mahogany, and musk enveloping your cozy sitting room. As you finally felt your tension melting away, you were ready for sleep. You just finished brushing your teeth you heard a sudden knock on your door.

You open the door without taking a peek and you’re stunned silent as you see Michael standing in your doorway. You heart skipped a beat and your pulse quickened at the sight. 

“Michael,” you say breathlessly. Completely in shock he’s standing before you, and you feel really underdressed for this unexpected visit. He might be fresh from prison, but he looks good in his sweater and jeans. You’re wearing pajama shorts and a tight white t-shirt, not exactly dressed for company. Nevermind the cool air making its way inside, making your permanently hard, pierced nipples, that much more pronounced. 

“Hey pet,” Michael says with a smile looking you up and down. When his eyes land on your hardened nipples he quickly refocuses his gaze back to your face as his cheeks turn pink.

“Didn’t realize ya got out. Come in,” you stand aside offering him permission to enter your home. 

He blinks, smiles, and crosses the threshold, “Just got out a bit ago… Nice place ya got here,” he says as he admires your house. 

“Thanks, I was just gettin’ ready for bed…” you say.

Michael bites his lip and you catch him staring. 

“What’s a girl like ya doin home alone on a Friday night?” Michael asks as his gaze roams your body. Despite his feelings for you, he always encouraged you to not get attached or wait for him. Which you completely ignored, much to his delight.

“Needed a night in to myself,” you say with a small yawn. 

“I just wanted to see ya, and thank ya, yer visits kept me sane while I was locked up. I appreciate what ya did for me while I was in there,” he knows he’s rambling but he’s turning into a blushing, stuttering mess. The sight of you in your tight pajamas with those nipple piercings is driving him mad. He’s half hard already thinking about what they look like and the pretty sounds you’d make with them in his mouth. 

His thoughts devolve quickly into a lustful frenzy, it’s been so long since he’s had a woman. He definitely thought of you during his lonely nights in his cell. 

“Michael, my eyes are up here,” you tease him as you notice his eyes on your chest. 

“Sorry love, I just can’t stop starin’. I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman, but ya look too damn good and I’ve been wantin’ ya for so long,” he sighs as your beautiful figure wears him down. 

“Oh… ya like what ya see, hmm?” You ask playfully. 

“I do. Yeah. When did ya do tha’?” 

“Probably four years ago. Did it on my birthday. Always wanted to.” 

“Never would have figured ya’d be the kinda girl to do something so naughty,” Michael is openly gawking at your chest. 

“Michael. A lot has changed since high school,” you shrug your shoulders with a small laugh.

“I can tell, I like it,” he says as his pupils are blown wide and his face is flushed with desire. 

“Ya want to see them?” You ask cheekily. 

“Can I? Ya’d let me?” He’s biting his lip and looks hopeful like a little boy about to play with his favorite toy. 

You life your shirt up, taking it off in one fluid movement, walking up to him with a smile as you gently push him down onto your couch. Once he’s seated you unbuckle his belt, and unzip his jeans, pulling them down to his knees. You see the outline of his hard cock through his boxers. 

“Can I touch ‘em?” Michael looks up at you pleading. 

You nod your head and say, “I think we’ve waited long enough, Mikey, ya can do whatever ya want tonight. Full consent. I know how bad we both want this. Only wanna make ya feel good and make up for lost time,” you murmur gently in his ear. 

Witt your consent, Michael’s fingers trace the barbells and the perimeter of your perfect nipples. He’s so focused on how utterly perfect your tits are. His thumbs brush over your nipples and you shudder. 

“They make everythin’ a lot more sensitive,” you say with a small moan. 

“Tha’ right?” Mikey asks as he continues to brush his thumbs over your nipples. “So perfect, pet, just like I knew ya’d be.” 

His hands are massaging your tits as he rolls your nipples with his fingers. It’s so pleasurable, and it’s Michael giving you pleasure, something you’ve dreamed about for the longest time. You find your panties are becoming soaked as you grind down on his muscular thigh. 

Testing the water, Michael licks your nipple which pulls the most gorgeous moan from your mouth. 

“Oh, you like tha’?” He teases. 

“Fuck, yeah, I do,” you groan as you grind on him more. 

Your words and noises push him to do more, his little licks turning into full blown sucking on your nipple as his other hand continues to play with the other. He alternates the attention paid to each, ensuring equal attention is paid to your gorgeous breasts. 

Grinding down on his thigh is no longer enough to relieve the tension coiling in your belly. Your hand dips into the waistband of your underwear. They’re soaked through and you’re positive he can feel your slick all over his thigh. You start to rub your clit and this sends Michael over the edge. He’s sucking your tit harder into his mouth, teeth grazing over the barbell, gently tugging to make you lose control. 

“Fuck, Michael, yer mouth feels so good on me. I could come jus’ from this,” you moan as he continues to lavish your breasts with heated attention. 

“Mmm, pet, wanna go to the bedroom to find out what else my mouth can do to ya?” 

You’ve never agreed to anything faster in your life. Before you know it, Michael has you hoisted up, legs wrapped around his waist as he carries you to your bedroom for a night you won’t forget. 

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: WATER GUN FIGHT🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

"From A Squirt Gun, With Love" (Bucky Barnes x F!Reader, Fic)

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 5's prompt: water gun fight. It's also been a while since I've written for my favorite super soldier, so today's prompt is for Bucky Barnes! You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! Side note, once I've got more these will all be edited a bit more and placed on my AO3, so if you lose one, just keep an eye out over there!

Ship: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: some suggestive dialogue and innuendo

You couldn’t afford another mistake. 

He’d been hunting you for at least an hour now, stalking you determinedly through the corridors of the compound and the manicured gardens outside. He’d already nailed you half a dozen times. And much to your disbelief, one of those times was because he’d somehow managed to find his way up into the air vents where he could track you unseen. You’d done your best to at least make it a challenge for him, relying on a variety of traps you’d managed to set up ahead of time, but it hadn’t done you as much good as you’d hoped, your hit count a measly two against his six. And now? Now you were running low on ammunition, and just as low on workable options. What was worse, he’d cornered you in the garage. You’d been able to tuck yourself beneath an SUV before he could see you, but there was only one exit—one currently being monitored by your annoyingly precise marksman of a boyfriend. 

You held your breath at the quiet scrape of heavy combat boots scuffing against the concrete floor. If you had to guess, he was wandering around about two rows over and off to your left. He could have bent over and just scanned beneath the cars immediately, but he was enjoying this far too much to let it end that easily. He was toying with you, dragging things out now that he had you boxed in. 

“I know you’re in here, doll,” came his low chuckle. “Come on out, and I’ll go easy on you. Besides, you gotta be soaked by now, and not in the fun way. But I can change that for you if you want. All you gotta do is pop that pretty head up for me.”

Not a chance. 

You weren’t going down without a fight. 

You clutched your water gun tighter, checking the glowing tactical display—you hadn’t even known high-tech water guns existed until Bucky had dropped one into your hands with a grin. “If my girl wants a water gun fight, we’re gettin’ a water gun fight.” 

And what you saw wasn’t good. 

Shit. 

You were down to eighteen percent tank capacity. Anywhere else in the compound, you might have had a chance to reload with one of the buckets you’d both scattered around, but you’d forgotten to put one in the garage. If you didn’t get him with your next shot, you were done. 

“The fact that you’re not out here shootin’ at me like before tells me you’re low.” His voice sounded different now: higher up, and a bit more distant. Had he… climbed on top of the cars? “You need more practice. I’ll admit, I was proud of you when you got that ass shot in, but that ain’t happenin’ again. My turn to get your ass now, darlin’. You gonna give me what’s mine?”

You sucked your lower lip for a moment before carefully edging your way forward, water gun held in front of you just in case he decided to pull a horror movie move and drop into view. It wasn’t easy. The goddamn water gun was shaped more like a shotgun than a super soaker, clunky and a bitch to drag around. The upside was it had an automatic reload so you didn’t have to worry about making any noise while pumping the gun. Its range was good for a water gun, around twenty feet, but not good enough that you could shoot Bucky at distance. You’d need to get close.

One of the cars down the row creaked, tires groaning, presumably as your massive super soldier of a boyfriend strolled along the top of the cars like they were paving stones. That he wasn’t bothering to be silent was… unusual.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he purred, his voice growing fainter as he wandered down towards the other end of the garage. “Where’s my pretty girl gone?”

On the one hand, you enjoyed hearing that tone from him, playful and relaxed, warm and content. He’d grown pretty comfortable with you, open and affectionate, over the time you’d known him. That comfort, that openness with you had only blossomed further as your relationship had morphed into something romantic. But even so, it was still unusual for him to let go like this just so he could have fun. It was progress, and that knowledge filled your heart with a sparkling warmth. 

But you also couldn’t help but be the least bit suspicious, because it would be absolutely like him to use his voice and playful tone to distract you from something. 

You froze again when a pair of boots suddenly appeared on the concrete in front of you, landing without a sound—you’d been right; all the sound a minute ago had been to try to lure you out, make you think he was farther away than he really was. You didn’t dare move, not when the slightest sound might give you away. Slowly, the boots shifted on the concrete as he turned one way, and then the other. Waiting for you to make a run for it. 

But he’d taught you better than that. 

There was the softest, quietest little huff of amusement, or maybe pride, instead. But instead of heading off, he began to kneel. 

Shit, shit, shit—

He was going to duck down and look under the car. He knew you were here, he had to. He had to. Could you shift the angle of your water gun before he leaned down and saw you—

Fortunately for you, it became clear a second later that he was only lowering himself into a crouch. You stilled again in the shadows beneath the SUV, your gun still aimed cautiously at his legs.

Speaking of wish, you had a really good view of his thighs at this angle. With him crouched the way he was, his thighs looked even thicker than usual, deliciously hard muscle covered in old denim. The round curve of his ass looked just as good where he filled out his jeans, though the dark splotch on the tight fabric made you grin. It was a testament to one of the only two shots you’d managed to him with. Sure, he’d shot you twice in the ass in retaliation, but it had been absolutely worth it. 

He settled onto the balls of his feet, rocking a little back and forth. You heard a soft whir, before his metal hand appeared in your view. Your heart skipped a beat, a droplet of maybe-water-maybe-sweat rolling down your temple. Only… his hand didn’t appear to be going for you like you’d expected. Instead, it slipped down to the concrete. One metal fingertip gleaming in the fluorescent lighting, it brushed lightly at the droplets of water drying on the concrete. 

Fresh droplets. 

From you. 

Crap. 

His head appeared beneath the SUV as he leaned over to meet your eye. Then he flashed you a feral grin. “Hi doll,” he said smugly. “Hi Bucky. I love you,” you said fondly, and shot him in the face. 

His head reared back as he spat out a curse, frantically swiping the water away from his face. It gave you just enough time for you to squirm out from under the SUV and take off down row between the cars, your sneakers slapping against the concrete, the wind blowing your hair back. If you could get to the door before he did, you could turn around and lock him in. It wouldn’t keep him here forever, but it might buy you a few minutes to reload. 

Based on the rapidly pounding footsteps behind you, though, you weren’t even going to get close. Not when it sounded like he was charging after you with every last bit of super-soldier-powered speed he had. You needed another plan, or else—

Something slammed hard against one of the cars behind you, startling you enough to make you stumble. In that brief moment of distraction, Bucky had vaulted himself up off the car and over your head. 

His broad form landed smoothly in front of you in one easy motion, dropping into a crouch. He rose slowly, powerful muscle gradually uncoiling inch by inch, until finally he loomed up over you, water gun held ominously in one hand. His pale eyes had gone dark with heat, pupils blown wide as he fixated on you: his prey. He took one prowling step forward, a flash of pink from his tongue as he lazily licked the droplets of water away from his mouth.

“You shot me,” he rumbled hungrily. “I should be mad. But damn, doll. That was hot.” “Hot enough to stop you from shooting me back?” you asked hopefully.

“Not a chance,” he said with a smirk, before firing a blast of cold water directly at your abdomen. You let out another shriek, turning to sprint away from him, a trail of damp footprints left behind. And if your shriek was half laughter, well, his playful growl was just as full of joy as he took off after you.