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theranskahovs · 6 years

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Haunted *Piotr x Reader*

A/N: this is based on this post

•

Ghosts and entities were a familiar topic for you. You’d had enough experience with them to be able to tell when they were around, and when you came home one day you could tell something was definitely here.

You waited for a few days to see what needed to be done, in a wary coexistence with whatever decided to visit you for a bit.

You’d wracked your brain trying to figure out why they’d joined you out of the blue. You hadn’t bought any used furniture or objects lately; you didn’t go anywhere out of the usual; no one close to you had died; you didn’t forget to close your circle. Hell, you just changed your rock salt containers around the apartment, what did this thing want?

They didn’t seem to be aggressive, aside from some light wandering at night. For days you’d asked what they wanted, and on the fourth day of wondering you kept seeing and getting the word benevolent. Happy at the breakthrough, you lit a candle and brought out your pendulum.

“Alright bud, you know the deal. Let’s do right or clockwise for yes, and left or counterclockwise for no. Ready?” You paused, the candle flickering manically. “Show me no.”

Feebly, the pendulum moved left. “Can you show me yes?” Slightly stronger, it swings right.

You smile to the air, “You’ve been telling me about benevolence a lot lately. Are you benevolent?”

There’s a pause, and your hand is steady as it moves clockwise. “That’s good to know, I was getting worried. I’d like to know why you’re here.”

“Did you follow me from somewhere?” No.

“Did you end up here during my casting?” No.

“Did we know each other in this life?” No.

What else could it possibly be doing here? “Are you here for a reason?” Yes.

You take in a big breath, at least you’re getting somewhere. “Do you need help crossing?” No.

“Are you here to teach me something?” Yes.

“A life lesson?” The pendulum doesn’t move and the candle stills. You wait, watching for a flicker of the flame. Nothing moves.

You set the pendulum down and blow the candle out. “You could’ve said goodbye first.”

•

You’d been watching closely for signs the entity was harmful. Nothing bad happened, but you did realize they were a little shit. Whenever you needed something, the item would disappear and show up once you’d forgotten about it.

You also noticed that whenever you did spells, they’d be there. They must’ve not known much about witchcraft in their lifetime, because they always watched you closely. You suspected they even helped a bit, providing energy when they could.

When you’d be studying and forgot to make dinner, your cupboards would be open when you’d leave your room, or some kind of food would have fallen out, almost like they were reminding you to eat. Whenever you’d hear their wandering at night, you’d ask them politely to stop and they would. The whispering or voices you’d hear always stopped when you talked back, as if they were just lonely.

After a while, you fell into a routine like normal again. The ghost was welcome to share your space with you, permitted they acted benevolently.

•

While your ghost encounters were happening, you’d begun to talk with Piotr, and eventually started dating him.

One day you invited him over for the first time, and you weren’t sure if you should mention the ghost or not.

When you let him in, he instantly tensed up, but didn’t mention anything. It took him a few weeks before he finally talked to you about it.

“I think your apartment is haunted,” he told you seriously. He didn’t know if you even believed in the supernatural, and was afraid you’d laugh at him for suggesting it.

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. “I know, it’s been around for a few months now.”

Piotr’s shocked. “You knew? You let it stay?!”

“Yeah! It’s nice. Like a roommate.”

Piotr isn’t sure. “It always feel cold and anxious. It felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

“That’s weird, it’s always peaceful with me.”

That wasn’t all you noticed. When Piotr would come over, his things would get moved around. When you’d be cuddling with him, he’d jump and tell you about how something pulled his hair or his clothes, or pinched him. He wasn’t wrong, the next day he’d have a strange scratch or a bruise like a fingerprint. You didn’t want to tell him you thought your ghost was getting jealous.

•

Eventually, Piotr started spending the night at your apartment. You’d learned to sleep through the wandering and the voices, but Piotr couldn’t get used to it. In the mornings he’d mention how he’d had terrible nightmares and sleep paralysis.

“I can put up a dream catcher for you or something? I’ve already put agate on the headboard and under the mattress, and salt.”

“No. It needs to go,” he tells you seriously.

“Let me talk to it first. It really is nice, I swear,” you try to reason with Piotr. You start speaking to the ghost, “Please stop giving Piotr a hard time, I don’t want to have to sage you away.”

Piotrs turns to you, “That’s it?”

You smile at him, “Now we wait.”

•

After that, Piotr didn’t mention the ghost anymore. He told you he thought it was gone. But you knew it wasn’t. They still sat with you when you were at your altar, and you still communicated through the pendulum sometimes. You would let Piotr believe the spirit was gone, but in all honesty you didn’t mind having them around.

#something from the counter falls and you sarcastically say; you could at least help with rent. another item falls in defiance #send me headcanons and preferences 👋👋👋#this definitely fits in w the witchy!S/O fics bc im allowed to write some things for me sometimes you hoes.#writing #piotr veselov #piotr kuznetsov #x reader #imagine #piotr daredevil #daredevil imagine #daredevil one shot #daredevil season one

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agender-wolfie · 6 years

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This aesthetic I made is based off of Reader in the Daredevil universe before she meets Piotr Veselov. (Reader has anxiety and depression and we’re also going to use my dog in the story lol)

You let out another sigh as you looked out the window, you loved the rain, but for some reason it just made your depression seem just a bit worse, or was it the loneliness? Going to college in New York had always been a dream of yours, so you packed up everything you had and left the farm. It was kind of hectic for the first two weeks, getting used to the crowds and the noise, finding an apartment and a job, figuring out the schedules for all your classes, etc. and the anxiety didn’t exactly help the situation, but now here you are, a month in and you already feel like you made the worst mistake of your life.

The classes are daunting, the commute is a bitch, and you’ve had to get your water pipes fixed twice in one month. Your depression never left but it was manageable, but with all the stress and emotions bottling up lately, it’s the worst it’s ever been in a while. Being alone was nice, the independence, the quiet, the alone time, just finally getting out in the world and having freedom.

But sometimes being alone isn’t so great, that’s when you think, that’s when the doubts get louder and the demons come out to play and all that alone time is suffocating. Sure you had Arno, your beloved toy poodle, but he wasn’t much for conversation other than a belch or when he heard the ice drop in the refrigerator. You needed human interaction, human touch, but it’s also something you fear. The fear of rejection, the fear of falling in love just to have it taken from you, it’s like a constant battle between wanting love and trying to stay the hell away from it.

So you just lay there on the bed, Arno laying by your side and book open and forgotten on the window sill, concentrating was getting too hard to do and to be honest, you just didn’t feel like reading right now. You continued to lay there until your tummy grumbled. ‘Oh yeah, I haven’t eaten today’ you thought. So with great effort, you climb out of bed, Arno quickly following.

You went to the fridge and felt immediate disappointment when you opened it, nothing. With all the stress of trying to get to classes on time and trying to keep your job as a waitress, you forgot to go shopping… great. Deciding it’s do it now or starve, you went to get your umbrella and wallet and at least put your hair in a ponytail, before you head to the door. “No, stay. I’ll be back bud” you said as you used your foot to keep Arno from following you, all you heard was a disgruntled bark before you left down the hall.

You made it outside and it was pouring. The market is at least 6 blocks away and you just want to get your shit and go home so you can eat and go back to bed. Hailing a cab seemed to be your only option, but it’s proving to be rather difficult. Being new to the city and all, you can’t exactly just hop into your truck and go down the backroad with only the slight possibility of seeing another car. You all but decided to give up and just share Arno’s kibble before you spotted a cabbie leaning against his car, holding an typing on his phone. By this time the rain had gone to a drizzle and he was off duty wasn’t at the front of your mind like getting food was.

Walking quickly so he doesn’t decide to just up and leave, you finally reach him. “Hey!” He looked up from his phone and you froze, gosh he’s pretty. His voice pulls you from your thoughts “Da?” Oh, he’s Russian “Um, yeah, could you take me to the market on Kent, please?” He looked you over and you felt self conscious. You were in a black hoodie with your hair in a messy ponytail, black leggings and burgundy Dearfoam slippers. And god were you gorgeous.

A/N Should I continue this? I know I have like four requests that need to get done (I haven’t forgot you guys) but I’m really liking this story. Please let me know 😊

#daredevil #my aesthetics #Piotr Veselov #marvel #marvel daredevil #marvel universe #aesthetic #aestheitcs #Piotr Veselov x reader #plus size reader #plus size imagine #daredevil x reader #my writing

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theranskahovs · 6 years

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A Proposition *Part 3*

Request: “I need more of “A Proposition” I loved it so much” + inspired once again by my favorite anon V’s asks (1) (2)

Warnings: smut mentioned (not nearly as bad as last time), swearing

Word Count: 3k

A/N: *softly, as an afterthought* dream symbolism and premonitions, bitch. (this is most likely the last part, unless V or someone else sends me an ask that completely flips my world around)

Part One

Part Two

“Hello.” Hearing his voice surprises me, but in a way I expected it. I can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance at him- this is already the second time he’s shown up at my house unannounced, technically an intruder. He’s lucky he forgot to give back my knife.

The visits are beginning to happen like clockwork. It’s been almost a month since the last time I saw him, except strangely, this time he’s alone. I don’t even question why that is.

He smiles- a lopsided grin that could light up half of New York if only he did it more often- and all traces of anger I feel toward him are fading. I smile back, and Piotr kisses the remnants of a scowl from my lips.

You wake up feeling more than a little disappointed. The dream is foggy already, and by the time you make breakfast you can’t recall what happened in it.

You’d caught yourself thinking back on the Russians’ second visit more often than you’d like to admit. More specifically, about Piotr. As his footsteps faded from your room and then you heard your front door shut, you suddenly felt weird about the whole situation.

It was almost as if you wanted him to stay, and that in itself was strange for you. You were used to these types of nights, reveled in them, actually. Yet you wished you knew why you wanted him to spend the night, or how to ask him to, or even if you should in the first place. You’d wasted enough time pondering those questions even though the answers weren’t hidden.

You knew Piotr wasn’t the kind of guy to hold you close and whisper his deepest secrets to you after sex- he’d already made that clear. Even if he was, you didn’t have to be a psychic to predict it wouldn’t have ended well.

He had even more blood on his hands than you, there’s no way that would mix better than oil and water. People like you two- who only did things that benefited them, and who didn’t care how detrimental those things were- didn’t get love affairs.

That didn’t stop you from imagining it, though. Somehow, the hope made the longing worse. But you managed to put him out of your mind, instead spending your waking hours completing new jobs.

You weren’t ready to admit it to yourself yet, but secretly you knew you weren’t going to do business with Vladimir anymore. Your web was already woven too deep, and you had to get out before you got stuck.

When you returned home from your latest business venture, you found a threat. It was from your former employer, and if you had a name for him, you’d use it. But sadly, you didn’t. He was a ghost, and you seemed all too easy to track down.

In plain handwriting, indistinguishable, on a small piece of paper taped to your mirror, read;

The rendezvous need to stop. I was promised Ranskahov’s head. I haven’t received what I’m owed. We’re always watching.

A shiver goes down your spine, and you angrily rip the note from the mirror and toss it in the trash. You didn’t fear him. You weren’t giving him any kind of satisfaction.

There’s a loud knock on your door, and you jump. You hurriedly search for your gun, then remember it’s still in your bag from earlier in the day. The familiar weapon melds into your palm, and you make your way to the door. Cautiously, you look through the peephole.

You’re almost as shocked as you would be if you saw someone with a machine gun; Piotr’s standing there, looking uncertain, almost ready to turn around and leave.

You open the door and let him in, locking it quickly behind him. “Why haven’t you left?” He asks, wringing his hands together.

“What are you talking about?” You ask.

“Did he not tell you?” Piotr questions, searching your eyes. He’s met with only confusion, and he sighs in frustration.

“Of course he fucking didn’t,” Piotr spits out, scowling.

You shrug, shaking your head. You have no idea what he’s talking about. “Vladimir didn’t tell you about the guys watching this building. The ones I killed.”

“The job I was hired to do,” you mention. “To kill Vladimir. They’re watching me.”

He nods. You’re about to yell at him for not telling you sooner, for risking himself to kill them when it’s your problem to deal with. But you don’t. Instead, you pull him into a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You can feel the tenseness of his form slowly fade, until his hands come up to rest on your back. “Thanks you,” you whisper. It’s been so long since someone cared.

“It’s not safe here,” he states, abruptly moving out of your embrace, words sharp.

The long-awaited words pop out of your mouth, “Stay, then.”

He shakes his head with a chuckle. You feel ashamed you’d asked, of course this was a mistake. “That won’t help. Come to my place,” he offers instead. So you do.

I leave the home I’d formed no attachments to with only a few small bags. My plants would have to be left behind, and the simple furniture and useless decorations. On the kitchen counter, I left a note for the Ghost- that’s what I’ve taken to calling him now- full of challenge and contempt. “Fuck you. You’ll never find me.” Where I would’ve signed my name, I sealed the message with a kiss, my dark lipstick staining the paper. It reminded me of blood. What an omen.

Piotr opens the door for you, letting you walk in first. “Chivalry isn’t dead,” you joke, turning back to raise your eyebrows at him.

You take in the minimal apartment. It wasn’t as messy as you expected, and it wasn’t furnished beyond the necessities. A reminder of the similarities of your lifestyles.

As he helps you set your bags down, you turn to him, putting a hand on his arm. “Please don’t get your hands dirty for me,” you tell him softly. You don’t expect anything from him, you don’t need anything from him.

He smiles slightly, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make a difference anymore.” You know the feeling.

Your hand moves to his neck, thumb rubbing his cheek. “Thank you,” you repeat, not knowing how else to express the sentiment.

“Of course,” he breathes out gruffly.

His head dips down, kissing you as you step closer to him. It feels better than last time. There’s no trace of roughness or anger, and Vladimir isn’t here to fight with him or challenge him.

His hands push up your shirt, then tug at your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. The thought of money doesn’t even cross your mind as you let him pull your shirt off, then you watch his go next.

The only thing on your mind is him as he leads you to his bedroom. You unclip your bra without a second thought to compensation. You get his belt unbuckled, waiting for him to kick his pants and underwear to the side.

When he sits at the edge of the bed and pulls you to straddle him, you’re glad he came to your apartment. Later, when you’re crying out his name in muffled pants and ragged breaths, you’re not thinking about Vladimir, or his money. Even later still, as Piotr brushes your hair off your face, you realize you’re glad you didn’t.

For a few weeks you stay in Piotr’s apartment, having no other choice. You expect the Ghost’s accomplices are searching high and low for you, you have to assume that.

It was a wonderful few weeks, filled with more orgasms than you could count, and late night talks with Piotr about anything you could think of. Who would’ve thought?

Not leaving the apartment was driving you crazy, though. So to repay Piotr for letting you stay (and also to have something to take your mind off the incessant worry that’s been creeping up on you lately) you’d taken to tidying up and cooking.

This particular night you had a stir fry going, and the food sizzling away in the pan was enough to make your stomach growl. In addition to the wonderful smell drifting through the rooms, Piotr was impatiently waiting for it to be ready.

You’d tried to distract him by showing him the games on your phone, and he was absorbed in Jelly Splash when you heard a knock on the door. Your eyes meet, both confused at who it could be and neither wanting to think the worst.

He gets off the bed where you’d been lounging, and holds his palm out to you, telling you to stay in his room. After waiting for what felt like hours in dreadful silence, you hear heavy footsteps come in.

“Can you fucking believe-” The person starts, and you immediately recognize the voice as Vladimir’s.

Your chest tightens. You didn’t plan on explaining this situation to him, and it was obvious that he wouldn’t be happy with it.

Piotr’s voice is uncertain when he replies, “What’s wrong? Why did you come?”

That’s when Vladimir realizes something isn’t right. He notices the dust that usually covers everything is gone, objects and clothes aren’t scattered on the floor, and something is cooking. And it doesn’t smell terrible.

Vladimir tilts his head, scrutinizing Piotr with a mocking smile, “Do you have someone over?”

Piotr anxiously rubs the back of his neck, “Uh-”

Vladimir gets his answer when you pop your head around the corner of the doorjamb, clad in only Piotr’s big flannel. You figure now’s a good a time as any, right?

Vladimir sees you, and instantly gets angry. Piotr’s face falls as he turns around and spots you. Vladimir shoves at Piotr’s shoulder, “How much are you paying her?” Piotr stays silent. “Hm?”

“He’s not paying me anything,” you admit. Vladimir’s eyes flick to yours and he narrows them.

“So you’re just playing house?” He asks, tone biting. You can sense the hurt beneath the anger.

“Not exactly-” You start to explain the Ghost and the threats to him, but he shakes his head.

“Was I asking you?” He spits out, gaze staying on Piotr. You bite your lip, glaring at him.

Piotr just crosses his arms, not knowing what to say. Vladimir looks back at you, shaking his head ever so slightly. He turns to leave, and thinking better of it, swings his arm out and knocks a lamp over.

You both flinch at the smashing sound. “Fucking whore,” is all Vladimir says before he slams the door.

“YOU WERE THE ONE PAYING ME, ASSHOLE!” You shout after him, hoping it’s loud enough for him to hear.

You huff out a breath, tears of anger prickling at the corners of your eyes. You sink to yours knees and start picking up the bigger pieces of the broken lamp quickly. A small shard of the lightbulb grazes your palm, and you let out a frustrated sob. You’re messing up even cleaning up.

Piotr puts his hands under your arms, pulling you up. You hug him tightly, making sure not to let blood drip onto his shirt. This all feels like one big mistake, and there’s way to make it right. It’s like an endless loop of making mistakes to fix the ones before.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Piotr comforts, but all you feel is wrath and now you’re crying and it’s embarrassing and-

“Stop,” Piotr tells you. “It will be alright.” You nod into the crook of his neck, feeling your hair muss up under his chin as you do.

He convinces you to have some of the stirfry you made, and it helps calm you down, but you’re still radiating anger and nerves all night. You fall asleep that night with the words on your tongue, this is all a mistake.

Out of an indescribable cloud of white, Piotr’s world comes into focus. He’s confused at first, but then he sees you. You’re sitting in the beat up leather armchair that’s by his bedroom window. He remembers when he bought it for $25.

You’ve got your legs curled up under you, watching the dusk approach with an intensity he can’t measure. When he focuses behind you, he notices the sun doesn’t look normal. It’s a dark, apocalyptic, burning red, but you’re watching it like it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

Your hair is pinned up in a way he’s never seen before, and on your head is a crown of plain sticks. Suddenly, you sense his presence and turn to him, a smile on your face.

“C’mere,” you beckon him, patting to the space on the armchair next to you. “Come watch.”

He heeds your command, perching on the arm. “Watch what?”

You ignore his question. “It’ll be better than it looks, I promise.” There’s a giddy excitement apparent in your voice.

“What do you mean?” he asks, confused and not feeling right.

He reaches out, about to place his hand on your shoulder. His fingers meet the exposed skin, and you vanish into thin air in the same instance that his vision goes dark.

The sensation of falling is suddenly all too real, and his stomach flips as fear surges through his veins. Panic is all he feels, all he knows, and all he’ll remember.

Piotr jumps awake, heart pounding. His eyes struggle to adapt to the darkness of the room, but through his curtain he sees the faint orange of the sun’s feeble attempt to rise.

He angrily shoves at his pillow, willing the adrenaline to leave his system. He tries to go back to sleep, but instead of fatigue he’s left with a creeping feeling of dread that won’t leave.

The next morning, you wake up unusually early. You don’t feel like going back to sleep, so you get up to start a cup of tea and maybe read a book. You open the cupboard to grab a mug and a piece of paper falls out.

Your heart immediately starts beating fast. You wonder if Piotr’s the kind of guy to leave love notes, oh, you really hope he is. You turn it over. In the now-familiar scrawl it reads;

We’re always watching.

You put your head in your hands, the thought of tea long gone. What could you possibly do? The Ghost is going to kill you. Maybe if you had the help of the Russians... but Vladimir would never agree to help you.

They could be coming for you right now. The Ghost never gave a time frame for you killing Vladimir, but you’re sure the sand in the hourglass has got to be close to gone by now.

Your thoughts go back to Piotr, sleeping peacefully at the early hour. He didn’t deserve to be caught up in your mess. Now you’ve put him on the hit list by staying here and somehow getting caught.

The thought hits you like an epiphany- I’ve got to leave. As soon as you think it, you’ve already made up your mind. You go back to Piotr’s bedroom, not bothering to be quiet- he can sleep through anything.

You find your bags and start putting clothes back into them. It took some time, they’d slowly started becoming integrated with his. You’d gotten comfortable living with Piotr.

As you’re packing, you wonder where you can go. East Coast is out of the question. I’ve always wanted to see LA. Or maybe Oregon, live a quiet life in a cottage in a coastal forest with a dog, practice being normal again.

Piotr shifts in his sleep, and you freeze. You only relax when he turns over and starts snoring again. You wonder what you’re going to tell Piotr when he wakes up. He’d try to get Vladimir involved again.

You make your way back to the kitchen. You set the Ghost’s note out, and search for a pen. Underneath the Ghost’s writing you scribble;

I’m so sorry.

There’s so much else you want to say, but you don’t know how. If you say it, your heart would break. So you don’t. Leave him to wonder what’s in between the lines, you couldn’t put it in words even if you tried.

I left at 5:17, as the kitchen clock told me, but it’s never right. There was no dramatic I-love-you, no solemn kiss to his cheek. I just spared him a final glance, and left. I almost didn’t think about him as I locked the door on my way out. Sometimes that’s just the way it is; I prefer it. I left the second home I’d known with a bittersweet smile.

Piotr wakes up to the cold bed, the dread still curling around him like wisps of smoke. He calls your name softly, still groggy. He makes his way through the house, panic growing when he can’t find you.

His eyes fall on the note, and he picks it up, reading it quickly. He knows you’ve left, but he still clings to the hope that you’ll come back in a few minutes, or you’ll be laying next to him in bed, waking him up from this terrible dream.

His mind sets about to bringing up all the memories of the last months, even though he doesn’t want to relive them just yet. There’s times where your passion matched the red of the sky in his dream, and nights clouded in a haze of alcohol- all he remembers is your smile and not being able to catch his breath from laughing so hard.

Then there’s 3 a.m.’s blurred by pain, and so much blood as he no longer has to patch himself up. He can’t forget early mornings with his gift of a bouquet of flowers and pancakes made by you.

You were the real ghost. In and out of his life before he could really appreciate it, disappearing on a morning where the fog made it look like you were walking right into the clouds. But it wasn’t a love affair.

#writing #marvel #marvel one shot #marvel imagine #Daredevil #daredevil one shot #daredevil smut #vladimir ranskahov x reader #vladimir ranskahov imagine #Vladimir Ranskahov #piotr x reader #piotr daredevil #piotr veselov #piotr kuznetsov

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theranskahovs · 6 years

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A Proposition *Part 2*

Request: Babe!!! I just read that fic where the reader is trying to kill vlad by pretending to be a stripper and its. so. GOOD!!! Can you please write a part 2?? where reader is eventually Piotr’s gf or something.. 🌹 Also adding: ‘•Vladimir would most likely scare you into submission honestly. He doesn’t care if you’re bratty or not, he’s going to punish you either way.’ well that’s fucking hot😳 could you maybe write a one shot about this pretty pretty please? Warnings: intense smut, of course. swearing. Word Count: a fucking novella 4k A/N: it doesn’t end as reader being Piotr’s gf, so sorry if that bothers anyone. but I did make it so you can easily tell reader prefers Piotr over Vladimir, so maybe if there’s ever more to this it can easily lead to that.

Part One

It’d been over a month since you’d seen them both. It was a relief, you’d let yourself hope they forgot about your deal. And yet, you still waited anxiously for Piotr and Vladimir to come back.

That’s not to say you could’ve forgotten about them, though, no. Exactly a week after your encounter with the Russians at the club, you received the $10,000 you were promised. When you were told they’d been keeping tabs on you, you expected them to get your phone number, maybe shoot you a text of Howdy! We’ve got your thousands of dollars for not killing our boss and then fucking him! Get it when you have time! But no, you got no text, email, fax, carrier pigeon. When you came home exactly 7 days later after the incident, you found a bag of money on your kitchen island.

When you saw the money, you felt a chill go down your spine. You thoroughly inspected your apartment after, knowing the kind of people you were dealing with. Hell, you even stayed at your friend’s for the next few days, that’s how shaken up you were.

And yet, you still wanted to see them again. You told yourself it was because of the money Vladimir promised you’d make from each of your encounters, and you let yourself believe that. But truly, you would’ve wanted to be with them again, even if there was no money involved. Whether it had anything to do with the way Vladimir was finally an equal match for you in terms of attitude and boldness, or the way Piotr fucked you so well, you couldn’t tell.

By now, it’d been over a month since you’d seen them, but you knew they were always watching. At first, it wasn’t as obvious as a pile of money on your counter. But you knew they were there, at first by intuition, then by glimpses on the street and around your apartment. To an untrained eye, it would’ve gone unnoticed, but you knew the men that seemed to be watching you as you turned your back had too many strange tattoos and telltale accents.

You were grateful they were watching out for you. They knew your original employer had to be angry enough to kill you since you didn’t keep your promise to finish Vladimir off a handful of Fridays ago. You definitely finished him in another way, you think to yourself with a huff of laughter.

Today was the first day you’d mostly pushed it out of your mind, instead spending your day doing errands and buying groceries (with the money you made. You almost felt proud at having earned it so easily, doing something you’d normally do for free. It felt empowering, to say the least).

So when you finished your errands, lugging your bags of groceries and purse into your apartment, all that was on your mind was a hot shower and Netflix. Those plans vanished when you stepped in the threshold, knowing something wasn’t right.

Hesitantly, you grab the knife you keep in the potted plant by your door, gripping the familiar handle in your palm. Cautiously, you enter your living room. You’re greeted by Piotr smoking a cigarette on your couch and Vladimir sampling the alcohol in your cupboards.

“Glad you could finally make it,” Piotr greets with a chuckle, watching intently as you try to appear calm.

You set your knife on the kitchen island, next to the glass of whatever Vladimir is drinking. Vladimir pulls you into his side with one arm, pressing himself close to you. “Hello, princess.”

You don’t say anything, just take his glass out of his hand and down the remaining few sips; you knew you’d need it to last the night. He chuckles, taking the glass back from you when you’re done and putting it down. “Not happy to see us?” He asks, hand stroking your side.

You are, you’re so incredibly happy to see them, but you’re determined not to show it. He accepts your silence and leans down to kiss you. You pull away, placing a hand on his chest. “Wait, how much?”

“What?” He asks, confused.

“How much,” you repeat. “How much are you paying me?”

He understands what you mean instantly, and laughs. He leans back against the island, still stroking your side. “How much do you want?”

“Depends on how high you’re willing to go,” you say with a smile, knowing you’ve got to get the most money out of him.

“We will not get anywhere like this,” he tells you.

“Alright. Then I want $2000,” you tell him.

Piotr whistles and Vladimir raises his eyebrows at you. “Bit much, no?”

“It was $10,000 last time. I’d say you’re getting a hell of a discount.”

“You were trying to kill me last time,” he points out.

“I can try again if you like. Since it seems to be a kink of yours?” You smirk at him, knowing he’s going to give you what you’re asking for.

He scoffs, “$2000 it is, then.”

“Yay!” You exclaim happily as he leans down to kiss you quickly before you can pull back again, holding you tight to him as the taste of liquor mingles between your lips.

He starts walking you backward, to where your bedroom is (you assume he already knows your apartment’s floorplan, which is slightly unsettling, but you try to forget that and think instead about getting your 2000 dollars). He decides it’s too clumsy walking with you, so he picks you up as if you’re a sack of feathers and continues walking.

He breaks your kiss to nod his head towards your room, for Piotr to follow. “Grab her knife, we will be needing it.”

“What-” You begin to protest, but he presses his lips against yours, a trace of a sinister smile on his face.

Your hands reach for his spiked up hair, tugging roughly and reveling in the hiss Vladimir emits. He pulls your hair just as roughly, growling at you, “No. We are in charge.”

You tilt your head at him, a challenging smile on your lips. “Is that the character I’m being paid to play for the night? Someone submissive?”

Vladimir readjusts you in his arms as he kicks open your bedroom door. Piotr speaks up from behind him, “Soon you won’t be playing part, kitten.”

Vladimir drops you at the edge of your bed, and you bounce slightly on the mattress. You lean up on your elbows, waiting for what’s about to come, too timid to ask.

You’re suddenly all too aware of the sweatpants and tie-dye t-shirt you have on from your day of running errands. You wished they would’ve come on a better day when your hair in its messy bun wasn’t so tangled, and your half-hearted attempt at makeup wasn’t so obvious.

Vladimir makes eye contact with Piotr, nodding at him. Piotr grins, striding to the edge of the bed, like a predator ready to pounce on prey. Your heart jumps in anticipation as he holds up your knife, watching it glint in the faint lamplight.

Once he’s sure your gaze is on the knife, he flips it in the air and catches it, spinning it gracefully around his fingers. He leans over you, kissing you too delicately, and it puts you on guard. A second later you feel a tug on your shirt, and hear the rip of the cotton as your knife meets the material.

Your stomach is exposed to the air, and both men seem to drink in the new expanse of skin that’s been revealed to them. Vladimir chuckles at your plain bra, “You should buy lingerie with the money.”

You scoff at him, defensive, “I was doing errands! It’s not like you warned me you were coming.”

Piotr hovers over you, knife pressed flat against your chest. “I hope you are not arguing.” He lowers his voice conspiratorially, “He hates that.”

You grit your teeth, tempted to fight back. You just shake your head, wanting him to continue on with whatever plan has him so excited. “Good,” he confirms, pulling the ripped shirt off your frame. When he’s done he tosses it at Vladimir’s head with a laugh, leaning down to give you a kiss.

He kisses you deeply, hands cupping your face. The knife is in one of his hands, and it’s tilted away from you, but it’s still so close to your features that you want to shrink away from it. You’re almost worried he’ll forget it’s there, but he wouldn’t, would he?

His thumb strokes your jawline and your legs come off the bed, wrapping around his torso where he’s hovering over you. He smirks into the kiss as you pull him closer to you.

“Alright,” Vladimir huffs out, and Piotr lifts himself off of you to look at Vladimir. He doesn’t look happy; he’s scowling, and if you were correct, jealous? Piotr holds his hands up in mock surrender, rolling off to your side to lie next to you.

Vladimir kneels at the end of your bed, eyeing you, deciding what he wants to do with you first. He slips your sweats off your legs, almost like you’re a ragdoll. “Hand me that,” he grunts at Piotr.

When he gets the knife in his possession he brings it to your chest with such carelessness you’re terrified he’s going to stab you, but he just lifts the middle of your bra up in the front between the cups and cuts right through it. He helps you slide it off your shoulders and tosses it to the side somewhere.

“He has not figured out how to get them off with his hands yet,” Piotr whispers to you, and you giggle. Your laugh trails off when you see the angry glare that Vladimir is directing at Piotr.

Vladimir’s hands go straight to your chest, where they knead and grope roughly at your exposed breasts. When he leans down to kiss you his stubble scrapes at your skin, and he bites your lip. You didn’t expect or want him to be gentle, but it’s a stark contrast between the two men (if you could even call Piotr “gentle”).

He starts to kiss a path down your neck, biting and nipping at all the skin he can. He kisses all the way down to the seam of your underwear. You know what he’s going to do, and he smiles up at you, wanting you to challenge him.

But you ignore him, staying silent as Piotr leans over to kiss you again, rolling your nipple between his fingers. As he’s doing this, Vladimir cuts your underwear off.

You’re completely exposed to them now, and it makes you want to shy away from their burning gazes. You’re holding your breath, waiting for someone to do something to take this further.

It unsurprisingly turns out to be Vladimir, who picks a scarf off your floor with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He ties it around you, and for good measure finds some similar garments to tie your hands to the headboard with.

“Makes it more fun, does it not?” Piotr asks, slipping his shirt over his head, and completely pulling the scarf over your eyes.

“Let’s play a game,” Vladimir suggests. “You have to guess which one of us is touching you. If you win, you get rewarded. If not, you get punished.”

You know you can’t do anything but nod, so that’s what you do. You feel them shuffling around on the bed, trying to confuse you. Your senses are in overdrive, trying to make up for your loss of sight by listening to any signs that will tell them apart.

The first thing you feel is the cold metal of your knife, it goes from your neck to your breast, swirling around your nipple. From there it trails down your side, leaving goosebumps in its path. Then it scratches you, leaving you to jerk away in uncertain fear as it continues down your body, stopping between your legs. You know there’s got to be your wetness on it, and it has you smirking at the thought that one of the boys is probably licking it off, tasting you.

There are a couple seconds of nothing, giving you time to think about who it was. Piotr is more skilled with the knife- it felt like a steady hand. And Vladimir wouldn’t have simply scratched me, he would’ve wanted to see blood.

“It was Piotr,” you say surely.

“Good job, kitten,” Piotr says, pecking you on the lips.

There’s more shuffling, and you know they’re just doing it for show. There are fingers moving from your stomach up to your neck, and from there a hand is pressed against the base of your neck. He’s pushing up slightly so it’s hard to breathe, and when you’re seized with fear you instantly know it’s Vladimir. Of course, he wants nothing less than a reaction out of you, and a terrified one at that.

“That’s Vladimir,” you say, taking in a large breath of air, and simultaneously missing the imposing weight of his hand on your throat.

The man in question simply grunts in response, giving your breast a squeeze as it falls silent again. Other than a wailing siren down on the street below, the only sound in the room is your anticipative breaths and the rustle of your comforter.

The next touch you feel is a hand going up the side of your leg, and someone is pressing open-mouthed kisses up the inside of your thigh, stopping when they’re at the apex of your legs.

“Piotr,” you groan, knowing he would’ve wanted to tease you. You also didn’t feel Vladimir’s stubble on your thighs (you won’t admit that you really want to, either).

“Yeah,” he confirms, letting it fall silent for Vladimir to announce the verdict.

“Good girl,” he starts off. “You did perfectly, but we find it more entertaining to punish you anyway.” You can’t see his face, but you know there’s a proud smirk on it; he always feels the need to be in control, and right now he knows he is.

“Vladimir-” You start to protest, hands pulling at the surprisingly tight knot Piotr tied between your scarf and the headboard. You feel his hand reach back up to your neck, tightening once, quickly, and it’s gone before you know it.

You feel shuffling on the bed, knowing Vladimir gave Piotr a silent command. Someone is between your legs, spreading them further apart. Judging by the lack of harshness, you assume it’s the latter.

Like before, he presses wet kisses up your thigh, laying a heavy hand on your hip and massaging it. His mouth meets where you want it most, tongue tentatively raking through your wet folds and swirling around your clit- it feels divine.

You sigh, trying to tangle your fingers in his hair, but remember the bound predicament your wrists are in. His tongue circles your entrance, and then there are two fingers inside of you. You press your hips closer to him and are met with resistance.

“Don’t move too much,” Vladimir warns, and you feel the knife pressed against your lower chest.

Piotr’s arm drapes across your hips, holding you down as you try your hardest not to squirm too much. You don’t know if he’s simply trying to hold you down for his own benefit or to keep you away from Vladimir’s knife, but either way, it’s helpful.

Piotr’s fingers push all the way in, his knuckles awkwardly bumping you. You’re about to make a smartass comment about how it doesn’t even feel that good, and then he’s curling his fingers in addition to sucking on your clit and oh, it definitely does.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” Piotr asks. His gruff voice has you wanting to bring is face back to where it was before.

You’re met with pain in two separate areas as your wrists tug uselessly against the scarves, leaving you groaning in frustration. Piotr laughs softly at your desperation, returning his mouth to your folds. Your back arches as he repeatedly curls his fingers and his free hand tries to push your hips back down on the bed.

He’s a second too late because the next thing you feel is the knife slicing into you just below your breast. It’s too deep to feel pleasurable for you, but you know Vladimir’s getting hard at the way you jerk away from the knife in surprised pain and fear.

Piotr clucks his tongue at you as if to say, You were warned, and I tried to stop you. You suck in a sharp breath as Vladimir wipes the drops of blood gathering along the cut, knowing he’s most likely just smearing it on your skin and it isn’t helping at all.

“Don’t you ever listen?” Vladimir growls at you, and you flinch as his hand curls around your throat.

Your face burns in anger at not being able to argue with him. You simply shake your head, unable to speak. “Piotr, move,” Vladimir huffs impatiently.

“She’s about to cum, Vlad,” Piotr insists, fingers not stilling inside you. His other hand squeezes your thigh, and he feels it shake as he continues his ministrations.

“I don’t care,” Vladimir states firmly. “She’s being punished, remember?”

Piotr doesn’t say anything further, and you’re met with a feeling of aching emptiness where his fingers were seconds before. You feel the weight leave the bed as Piotr moves to make room for Vladimir and Vladimir stands up to take his pants off.

You hear the clink of his belt as he undoes it and kicks his pants aside. The bed dips as he hovers above you. He teases you by running his tip along your entrance and against your clit, leaving you to whisper a choked-off, “Please.”

“That’s not good enough,” he says, and you’re fed up with his superior attitude.

“Vladimir, I need you inside me. Please,” you repeat.

There are a few seconds of silence and you wait in agony, thighs pressed together in an attempt to put pressure back on your clit. “Open,” he commands, tapping at your thighs.

You obediently open your legs, and he instantly pushes into you roughly, not giving you a second to adjust. You gasp in shock at the abrupt sensation. It’s slightly painful as he instantly starts thrusting, not caring if you’re stretched out enough. As long as it feels good to him, right? You think angrily.

His hand comes to your waist, gripping roughly at your skin as he sets a hard and fast pace. Your mouth falls open slightly as he hits the spot deep inside you with every thrust.

You moan unashamedly and hear it bounce off the walls. Vladimir’s groans are brewing deep in his chest. Vladimir’s hand returns to your throat, long fingers digging into your skin as your head tilts back in pleasure.

The next time you moan, the pressure on your throat makes it sound more like a choked off whimper. You hear Piotr’s deep groan a few feet away, and you know he’s started jerking off as he watches Vladimir fuck you ruthlessly.

You can feel Vladimir’s thrusts start to get sloppy as he continues his rough treatment of you after a while. His hand tightens around your throat so much that sucking in a breath has become a challenge. As soon as you see white spots bloom behind your closed eyes, he removes his hand.

He pulls out of you, and the emptiness is enough for you to start begging again. A second later he cums on your stomach and breasts, the warmth just sitting there as Vladimir gets off you, moving off the bed.

The bed dips again as Piotr takes his place between your legs. “Hi, kitten,” he greets quietly in your ear. His hand runs up your side as he enters you, his pace only slightly gentler than Vladimir’s. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist, dragging him closer to you so he presses in deeper. His other hand cups your jaw, and you flinch, expecting him to tighten his hand around your sensitive neck.

He shushes you, instead bringing his fingers to tangle in your hair. He tugs, bringing your mouth to his. His lips coax yours open, and his tongue dips into your mouth.

He breaks away to suck a mark just below your jaw, and you let out a sigh at the feeling of his lips on your pulse point. His thumb reaches down between your bodies and circles around your clit, matching the quick pace he’s set.

His tongue drags over the mark he’s sucked onto your pulse point and his nose nudges against the shell of your ear. “You going to cum for me this time, baby?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice.

You finally speak up for the first time in almost a half hour. “Mmm, if you keep fucking me like this,” you reply.

He laughs low in your ear, “I plan on it.” He kisses you deeply, hand heavy on your hip, and you arch into his touch.

His thumb continues his motions on your sensitive clit, and you let out a long moan of his name, only causing him to increase his efforts to get you to orgasm.

There’s a coiling sense of tingling anticipation burning deep in your stomach, and each thrust of Piotr’s hips and circle of his thumb brings it closer and closer. “C’mon,” Piotr encourages, feeling you tighten around him. “Good girl,” he praises in a grunt.

You let out a final moan, head tilting back as it feels like you’re in a freefall of pleasure, little surges of heat shooting through you. You take a couple minutes just to calm your thoughts and try to get your breath back.

When you’re finally able to focus on the present again, it’s because Piotr is coming inside you, warmth filling you. He stays above you for a minute, both of your breaths coming fast and shallow.

He pulls out, and before he goes to clean up he pulls the scarf from your eyes, grinning at your blissed-out smile. He comes back a second later with his boxers back on and a warm washcloth from your bathroom.

He unties your wrists, and you rub at the red marks you brought upon yourself. He wipes the blood off from the cut Vladimir gave you, furrowing his brows when he realizes how deep it is. You smile at him, you’ve had worse.

He wipes your stomach and chest off, and then between your legs. Your face flushes as you realize how intimate it is that’s he’s cleaning you up.

“Hurry up,” Vladimir tells Piotr.

“Hang on,” Piotr tells him.

“Piotr,” Vladimir snaps.

Piotr turns to him, yelling something in Russian. “You were too rough with her, give her a minute.”

Vladimir scoffs and leaves the room since he’s already fully dressed. You assume he’s going to help himself to more alcohol while he waits for Piotr.

“I’m fine,” you assure Piotr softly. He nods, but it looks like he doesn’t believe you as he wipes more blood off the cut, and eyes the bruises on your throat that you suspect are already forming.

He stands up, putting his clothes back on. You sit up, and he tosses your shirt and underwear to you, and you slip them on. It’s suddenly too silent and you don’t know what to say, or if you should say anything at all.

You choose instead to look out your window, and you notice it’s already gotten dark. Lights are still on in every single building you can see.

“Here,” you’re a bit surprised to hear Piotr speak again, and it startles you. You turn your gaze away from the skyline outside. He’s holding out your sweats, a hand resting on your thigh.

You take them from him with a small smile. “Goodbye,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you can react, surprising you further.

He’s already out of your bedroom by the time you murmur, “Goodbye.”

#can you believe in the year i've been writing these characters this is the only story piotr has a personality in?! like can you believe!!!!#this is probably my favorite thing to write tho i love you so much v for sending me those asks in the first place #writing #vladimir ranskahov x reader #vladimir x reader #Vladimir Ranskahov #vladimir ranskahov imagine #marvel #ranskahov brothers #piotr x reader #piotr veselov #piotr daredevil #piotr kuznetsov #marvel smut #daredevil smut

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theranskahovs · 7 years

Text

A Proposition *Vladimir x Reader x Piotr*

Requests: inspired by these amazing asks my favorite anon, V, sent me. also combining the kink prompt i got of: 80 & Vladimir? (sex as performance/third person watches) Warnings: swearing, smut, a threesome Word Count: 2.5k A/N: this just gives me atomic blonde vibes i’m living for it

Part Two

All your senses are overwhelmed. The stench of too many bodies packed tightly together, cigarette smoke, and cheap liquor choke you. A fast, bass-laden song reverberates throughout the room, mimicking the way you can feel your blood pound in your veins. You push your nerves down, and remind yourself you’ve been in worse situations before.

You’re still a bit jittery, scanning the crowd over and over again every few seconds. They should be here by now. Vladimir may not’ve been punctual, but he was a creature of habit, and it was hard to believe he’d miss his weekly outing to his favorite strip club.

You’d learned another Russian, Piotr, usually came with him. If Vladimir decided to drink, he got aggressive. Whether Piotr was there to protect Vladimir from others, or others from Vladimir, you couldn’t say.

Either way, he showed up just before midnight every Friday, and now so did you. You almost couldn’t take another minute in this sleazy place. You felt stares from every direction, knowing the men were mentally undressing you. It wouldn’t have been hard, since you were already practically naked. You knew you had to pick the most revealing, excessive lingerie to secure some time with Vladimir. Tonight would’ve been much harder if he didn’t think with his dick.

You caught your reflection in a dirty mirror by the bar. You wipe off a bit of lipstick that strayed, and try to add more volume to your hair. You play the part well. You look like someone that belongs here, and maybe you do.

Two new heads enter the crowd, and your gaze darts to them. Finally. You watch as Vladimir pushes his way to the front, by the stage. “Pushes” doesn’t seem to be the right word, because everyone near him is suddenly aware of his presence, and they eagerly part to make room for him. Before any other girls can make their way over to him, you sashay over, head held high.

You’d learned Vladimir went after the ones that didn’t seem so submissive. He wanted a challenge. He wanted his prey to put up a fight first. Well, now he’ll get one.

You run your nails up his arm, smiling teasingly at him. “Interested?” Before he can respond, you grab his hand, leading him to one of the private rooms. Gotcha, asshole.

As you lead him, you feel his hand on your ass. You almost don’t mind it. It disgusts you less than the other dozen creeps who’ve done it in the past hour. On a second thought, you remind yourself of all the terrible things he’s done. What about the terrible thing I’m about to do? you ask yourself. Instead of lingering on that, you force a giggle to escape your lips, turning back to smirk at him as you guide him into the chair in the center of the room. Piotr stands by the door, eyes raking over you just as much, if not more, than Vladimir’s.

Your eyes dart to the beat up couch as you begin to dance for Vladimir (and Piotr, you remind yourself, locking eyes with the other man by the door). Vladimir settles in his chair, welcoming you as you grind down on him. This couldn’t have been easier.

You abruptly push off of Vladimir, lunging at the couch. Your hand sinks deep down between the cushions, grabbing at some things you don’t want to think about, but you come back up with a gun.

Piotr’s reaching for the blade he usually carries in his jacket. You level your gun at him. “Put the knife down, now.” You command. He does, setting it on the floor and sliding it to you.

“Get out,” you tell Piotr, focusing your gun on Vladimir. You honestly didn’t care what happened to Piotr or who he’d tell, your only task was to kill his boss.

Vladimir doesn’t move, still slouched down in his chair a bit and eyeing you like he still has the upper hand. What a fucking fool. You suddenly remember you’re in a sheer bralette and panties that barely cover your ass, and think of how crazy this looks. In lingerie and holding a gun to a Russian mob leader’s head, like you do this every weekend.

“Why?” Vladimir asks. His voice startles you; it’s the only sound apart from the music seeping through the cracks of the door, and the first time you’ve it from him speaking directly to you.

You tilt your head curiously. “I was hired to,” you say, no emotion in your voice. This was what you did for a living, emotion wasn’t allowed to be a part of your life anymore.

“How much?” He asks. You furrow your brows, wondering if he’s trying to distract you. “If you’re going to kill me, at least grant me that.”

“Ten thousand.” You tell him, thinking of how you already spent your 10% upfront on rent for the month.

Piotr chuckles. You glare at him, but Vladimir speaks up again. His lips twist into a sordid smile, “I would have offered you fifty.”

“You’re not worth that much,” you spit out.

“Are you?” he asks, tilting his head dramatically. “You were free just five minutes ago.”

You huff angrily, taking a stride toward him and pressing the barrel of your gun into his forehead. “I guess some people would do anything for money,” you say knowingly. You’d heard all about his businesses. You move away from him again, paranoid he’d try to disarm you.

He looks up at you, confused. “You’re doing this for the money?”

“Why else?” You had no personal vendetta against him, a job was a job. And you were determined to see it out.

“I know a better way for you to make money, one that might be... mutually beneficial,” he starts.

You glance between him and Piotr. “I’m listening.”

“I’ll give you ten thousand, will that be good enough?”

“For... what?” You’re confused. Is he paying you to not kill him?

“You put that gun down, and I get to fuck you. Although you do look amazing holding it,” he proposes, a grin spreading to his face. Piotr clears his throat, and Vladimir turns to look at him, and back to you. “Him too.”

“Deal.” You’d already gotten $1,000 from the original plan, and now you just made $10,000, without even having to dirty your hands. It seemed like money was even more important to you than morals now, but wasn’t it to everyone? You knew it was to the men in front of you, but the similarities between you and your company didn’t make you feel at ease one bit.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, and Vladimir nods. Piotr moves away from the door finally, but only enough so you brush past him when leaving. You hide the gun far away from the room, in case either one decides to pull something.

You enter again, and Piotr locks the door behind you. “Come and give me that dance now,” Vladimir says. He stands up, twirling you around and looking at you.

“I’m not actually a dancer,” you remind him, trying to smile. If he was paying you ten thousand for the hour, you knew to act like it was the best one of your life.

“Shame,” he mutters, pulling you into him roughly. He stares down at you and the shocked look on your face, and you know you’ve gone back to being the prey again.

He chuckles at the flash of fear in your eyes, and presses his lips to yours. There’s nothing gentle about him; it’s all harsh and rough, from the way his stubble scrapes at your face and his hands grope your body in a way that almost makes you feel helpless.

He pushes you against the wall, and you can feel his cock pressing against your ass. “What’s wrong? You were so powerful a minute ago.” He laughs quietly, recalling it. He wraps a hand in your hair and yanks, making you cry out.

He brings a hand down onto your ass twice as hard. You don’t even try to contain the moan that leaves you. He glances over to Piotr, who’s taken a spot in the chair, “Of course she likes pain,” he informs him with a smirk.

“Down,” he commands, pushing on your shoulder. You get the hint, turning around to face him and sinking onto your knees.

Your hands fumble with undoing his pants, and then you pull his dick out. He’s heavy and thick, and you press your thighs together as you suddenly feel too empty. “C’mon,” Vladimir says, pushing the back of your head.

You look up at him as you lick the underside of his shaft, all the way to the top, taking the tip in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around a few times, but don’t hesitate to take as much as you can of him.

Vladimir’s hand tangles in your hair, pressing you even closer to him. You inhale sharply, glaring up at him as you start to bob your head. He smiles down at you, his other hand brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Can’t fight back much from down there, can you?”

You try to disagree with him, and the mangled word’s vibration has him tilting his head back. You make eye contact with Piotr, who is leaning back in the chair, jeans discarded, lazily stroking himself.

His dick looks just as good as Vladimir’s, and you can practically already feel him stretching you out. You sink lower on your knees, ready to help yourself with the hand that isn’t twisting around Vladimir. Your hips grind against the first solid thing you’re met with.

You whimper around Vladimir, fingers seeking out your clit. Even when you realize you’re fucking yourself on his boot, you don’t stop. It seems like everyone is getting attention but you. “Look how desperate she is,” he points out to Piotr, and your face flushes in shame.

Before you have the chance to counter his remark, Vladimir pulls you up without warning, and the sound that results from your mouth leaving his dick is filthy. He pushes you toward Piotr, who says something to in Russian. Piotr looks you up and down, and nods, replying back in their native language.

Piotr reaches out to you, helping you straddle his lap. He puts his hand on the back of your neck, and you surge forward to kiss him. His kiss was less jarring; he either knew not everything had to be a fight for dominance, or he wanted to make Vladimir jealous as much as you did.

He reaches around you, and manages to unclip your bralette. His hands are big and a bit calloused, and they feel perfect on the smooth skin of your breasts. He pushes your panties to the side, teasingly running a finger through your wetness. You moan into his mouth, biting down a bit too roughly on his lip.

He grunts, putting his hands on your hips and pulling you down onto him. You gasp loudly, eyes closing as you get used to him filling you. He doesn’t give you the chance, though, instead guiding your hips to grind on him.

You moan his name softly, dropping your forehead into the crook of his neck as you lift yourself up and drop back down onto him. He nips at your shoulder, his hands heavy on your waist and an almost comforting presence.

Piotr spanks you, and the sound echos a bit. “Earn your money,” he growls in your ear. He takes the lobe in his mouth before trailing his lips across your neck, alternating open mouthed kisses and leaving marks. You follow his order, beginning to ride him without his guidance.

You’re aware of Vladimir watching you closely, and you know he’s paying extra attention to all the little sounds that spill from your lips. You’re aware of the song changing a few times before Piotr’s hands grip tightly at your hips again.

He pulls you down hard into his dick after you rise up. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud and biting down on the skin next to it. You moan, a sound that’s music to both mens’ ears, as Piotr cums, slamming his hips up especially hard to meet yours.

You only get a second to breathe before Vladimir is reaching out to you, half pulling, half letting you get off Piotr. Your legs are wobbly as he walks you to the end of the couch, bending you over it.

He enters you easily, since your wetness is mixing with Piotr’s cum. He thrusts deeply, hitting your g-spot with almost every try. You gasp, gripping onto the couch to stay in place. Your face is pressed against a pillow, and it muffles your cries a little. You’re glad, it makes you sound less eager for their rough touches and harsh words.

Vladimir’s hand pulls at your hair again, the other running down your back. Not long after, the dirtiness of it all and the way Vladimir’s dick fits perfectly in you has your stomach tingling. Your pussy tightens around Vladimir as you see stars, and he follows a minute later. You swear he mumbles something that sounds like your name as he does.

Your breath is heavy, and you’re suddenly aware of how hot and stiff the air in the rooms feels. You put your bralette back on, and recline on the couch as Vladimir gets dressed again. You’re aware of the mixed cum dripping out of you and into your panties, but there’s not much you can do to fix that.

“I’ll get your money to you,” Vladimir informs you, buckling his belt.

“How do you-?” You start.

“You don’t think I haven’t been watching you, too?” Vladimir asks with a patronizing laugh, as if you should’ve realized.

Your face pales as you sit up quickly, suddenly feeling bare in both the physical sense, and because you don’t have your gun. Vladimir doesn’t look at you as he leaves.

Piotr walks over to you, and you stiffen. He drops a $100 bill on your lap. “It’s all I’ve got tonight,” he says, almost regrettingly. “We’ll see you again.”

#writing #Daredevil #daredevil season one #daredevil au #daredevil smut #marvel #marvel smut #marvel one shot #vladimir #vladimir x reader #vladimir ranskahov imagine #Vladimir Ranskahov #vladimir ranskahov x reader #piotr #piotr x reader #piotr veselov x reader #piotr veselov #piotr kuznetsov

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theranskahovs · 7 years

Text

Road Trip *Piotr x Reader*

@Iocuraace requested: 71, it can be anyone Warnings: cursing, that trope where the characters hate each other 103% then end up fucking Word Count: waay too many 4k A/N: 71. “You’re my fake wife/spouse, deal with it.” I decided to do this w/ Piotr, and also include the requests for 60. “Please tell me this is a joke!” and 62. “We only have one room left for the night…” Also included some requests from the kinks list because I like being lazy :^) 64. no speaking + 3. almost getting caught + 61. multiple orgasm; i’d like to call this fic: we’d fight each other to the death if we could but the universe has other plans

Day One

“Piotr, (Y/N), come here!” Sergei calls you both from across the garage. You make your way over to him, surprised you could hear him over the din of the building.

You wait as Piotr casually strolls over, biting your cheek as he takes his precious time. He nods to Sergei, ignoring you completely.

“A deal went bad in Rochester, you need to find a member of the Irish mob and collect some money. If you can’t, make it apparent that he’ll never fuck up his end of an arrangement again. Are we clear?”

You feel the color drain from your face. This can’t be happening. “Please tell me this is a joke!” You exclaim, pleading with Sergei.

He turns to you seriously. “If you have a problem take it up with the Ranskahovs, they planned it,” he says in a tone that suggests it’s the last thing you should do. “You’re not a child. It’ll be a day, two at most. Deal with it,” he states.

You stare at the ground angrily, thinking about what cosmic power you could’ve angered to be put in this position. Anybody but Piotr. You’d gladly go with Dmitry, Mikhail, Sergei, even the bosses themselves, who you wouldn’t admit you were scared of. Anybody but Piotr.

Ever since you came to the garage, he’d been nothing but horrible to you. He did everything from making rude comments as you struggled to find your place, deliberately sabotaging you, to flat out ignoring you for the last few weeks. You hadn’t done anything to him but be civil. If anyone was a child, it was him.

Sergei continues on about the specifics of the trip, but you’re lost in your thoughts. You catch the end of his speech, and realize it’s not that important, anyway. You glare at Piotr, and he smirks back, probably glad at the free chance to make your life hell for the next few days.

When Sergei finishes, he says, “Good luck,” and goes back to his business, leaving you and Piotr standing alone. You go to grab guns, ammo, and other necessities, glad to have some last minutes to yourself.

When you return, Piotr is leaning against his cab, looking impatient. “We’re not taking this.” You outright tell him.

“Yes, we are. Get in.” He opens the driver’s side and gets in, not looking back at you.

You open your door roughly and argue, “This won’t get us to Rochester. It’s a piece of shit. I should know, I’ve worked on it.”

“Don’t come then. You won’t be much help anyway,” he challenges.

You huff and place your duffel bag in the back seat, settling in for the long ride. Instantly, you can feel the tension in the car and try to inch away from Piotr. As he pulls out of the garage, you turn the radio on, desperate to fill the silence; you wouldn’t be making small talk.

He scoffs as you select a pop station, and you wonder what else he would have preferred. Too bitter for county, not smart enough for classical. Probably rap you conclude to yourself.

Five minutes into the drive and he pulls out a pack of cigarettes, pulling one out with his teeth and leaning over the wheel to light it. He doesn’t offer you one, not that you wanted one anyway, and you didn’t expect him to. You reach to roll down your window but he stops you. “No, too cold.”

“Then don’t smoke in here. It already stinks bad enough,” you reply. It wasn’t a lie, the car already smelled strongly of cigarettes, cheap cologne, and perfume. You grimace as you wonder why the smell of perfume is so strong, you decide you don’t want to know.

“Too bad,” he mutters, taking a deep puff and exhaling the smoke onto your side of the car. You almost cough as you inhale the smoke. He just chuckles, taking another puff.

You angrily roll down your window. Without thinking, you pull the cig from his lips and toss it out onto the road. “Hey!” He yells.

“We’re going to be alone together for two days, you might as well stop being an asshole now and make it a lot easier on the both of us,” you retort.

He clenches his jaw, not responding. But he doesn’t light another cigarette, and doesn’t protest about the fresh air streaming into the car. Well, it’s a start.

The next hour passes without incident, both of you silent and trying to get lost in your thoughts. Piotr stops at a small gas station, and hands you $50. “Get food and the rest goes for gas.”

You yank the money out of his hand, feeling like a child being told what to do. Once inside, you pay for some water, chips, and $40 for gas. You take your time in the small store, not wanting to go back to the car. Piotr was almost bearable after you yelled at him, but almost bearable wasn’t enough.

Reluctantly, you return to the cab as Piotr starts to pump the gas. Once he’s done and gets in, you toss a bag of chips to him. “Bon Appetit.”

Before you know it, you’re back on the road, and merging onto the freeway. It’s packed, since it’s about rush hour, and you’re instantly stuck in traffic.

After 45 minutes, you’ve only moved a few miles. Piotr’s carefully watching one of the gauges, tapping the wheel anxiously when he only moves up a few feet.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, worried you’re out of gas but realize you should have at least half a tank from the fill-up.

He shrugs. “Is nothing.” You look at him, knowing he’s lying. “The engine’s overheating.”

“So turn it off, we’ll be stuck here for a while, anyway.” As you say that, white smoke starts rising from the hood, blocking your view of the road.

“Shit,” Piotr mumbles, quickly turning off the car. Traffic moves up a bit, and the car behind you lays on their horn.

“Go!” You tell him, jumpy about the situation.

“Where?! I can’t exactly pull over!” He was right, you were in the second lane of a 4 lane freeway, and with the bumper-to-bumper traffic no one would appreciate him changing lanes.

“Figure it out, you’re the driver!” You scoff, angry that he was persistent about taking his cab, even when you both knew it wouldn’t have made it.

Piotr turns the car on, and maneuvers toward the outer right part of the road, earning a lot of middle fingers and angry honks, to which he responds back with both of his.

Once Piotr pulls into the gravel, you both hop out to inspect the damage. As he pops the hood, smoke spills out.

You clench your fists, wondering could one person be so stupid. “I told you!” you yell at him. “I told you we wouldn’t make it to Rochester and you just ignored me! Because apparently I’ll never be as smart as you, Piotr. Apparently I have no clue what I’m doing. Guess what, now we’ll never make it to Rochester and the guy will be gone. I’ll have to go tell Sergei we failed. That’s what you want isn’t it? To make me look like a stupid little girl that can’t do anything right?”

He doesn’t look at you, just watched the traffic slowly go by. Quietly, he responds, “No.”

“Well then what the fuck is it? Huh?”

“This isn’t my fault!” He yells, striding over to you, making you aware of how small you are compared to him.

“Yes it is!” You respond, looking up at him accusingly. Without thinking, you hit him in the chest with you fist, the only thing you can do at such a close distance.

You do it again when he doesn’t react, and again and again. After six months of putting up with him and his shit, you’re glad to get it out, even if it isn’t hurting him.

“Hey! Stop!” He shouts, grabbing your wrists. You stomp on his foot for emphasis, and he grabs your waist and spins you away from him. You try to elbow him but he twists his ribs away from you.

He pulls you closer into him, holding you tight as you breath heavily. You feel the anger slowly drain out of you, replaced by a tired feeling. Why did you have to get stuck with him?

After half a minute he asks, “Are you done now?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t move, so you restate, “Yes, I am. Now let me go.”

He releases you and you yank your wrists away from him, not giving him an apology. He starts walking away from you, and you call out to him, “Where are you going?”

When you catch up with him he says, “Someone will come get it later, we’ll have to walk. We don’t have time to wait for them.”

You sigh, starting the long walk. A half hour later you take the first exit you see, drawn towards the billboards with promises of hotels. You can see the lit-up signs for fast food places in the near-distance, contrasted by the beginning of dusk.

Another half hour later and you huff angrily to yourself. You’re thirsty and tired from the day, and you didn’t pick the best shoes to wear.

“What’s wrong now?”

“Nothing,” you snap. You add, knowing it’s stupid, “My feet hurt.”

Piotr chuckles condescendingly. “Does the princess want to be carried?”

“Pfft, no. You’d drop me, you’re pretty weak. Or you’d do it on purpose.”

Piotr just shrugs, picking up his pace. Soon enough you come to a McDonald’s, and you stop to get dinner. Inside you’re surrounded by couples, friends, and families with kids running around. It’s ironic to you how normal it seems.

Once you’re done, you search for a hotel. The only thing that seems to be around is a grungy motel, with half the sign burnt out. When you enter, you’re met by the scent of dust and grime, and a balding, creepy man.

“Two rooms,” Piotr states, tossing a $100 on the counter. The man quickly pockets it, and hands him a key.

“We only have one room left for the night,” he states. He eyes you, smiling with a grin that’s missing a tooth or two. “You can stay with me, honey.”

You scowl, feeling his stare rake up and down your body. Piotr places his arm around you, glaring at the man. “Oh, actually one will do. She’s my wife, and all.”

The man looks at him disbelievingly, but goes back to reading his paper. As you step into the elevator, he winks at you, and you feel the intent behind his stare.

Once the elevator doors close, you shrug Piotr off. “Really?”

“You’re my fake wife, deal with it. If I didn’t say that he wouldn’t have left you alone.”

“Yeah thanks for saving me. I might be in a gutter, chopped in pieces without you,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “That’s happened before. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You don’t have to,” he states, as he opens the door. You’re left wondering what he means, but it’s pushed out of your mind as you see the state of the room.

It looks like no one has cleaned it in years, and there’s stains on the carpet, furniture, ceiling... everywhere you look is disgusting. You stand there in shock as Piotr places his phone on the bedside table, “Not good enough for the princess?”

You realize that there’s only one bed, and a chair. You’re not taking the chair. “Bed’s mine,” you claim.

Piotr raises his eyebrows. “I believe it’s my room, no?” He dangles his set of keys for you to see. “I guess you could always go spend the night with the nice man downstairs.”

You scoff, ignoring him and laying down on the bed. It’s pretty early, but you want nothing more than to sleep. Piotr goes into the bathroom, and you hear the shower start. Just as you start to fall asleep, he comes out, and turns on the light.

You see him walking around the room, half-naked, searching for his phone. He’s only got his underwear on, and his hair is messy and damp. He sees you watching him and smirks. “Like what you see, princess?”

You turn around so you’re not facing him anymore. “Stop calling me that.” You feel the bed sag as he lays down, and his body heat is tangible in the small space. He lays down facing away from you and doesn’t bother you again.

Day Two

When you wake up, it’s not due to the sunlight streaming from the cheap blinds (which is very bright) but rather the feeling of your hair tickling your face. You brush your hair off your face, and feel a tightness around your body.

As you blink the sleep from your eyes, you realize Piotr’s body is pressed against yours and his hand is resting on your waist. It feels comfortable and nice, until you remember it’s Piotr.

All traces of relaxation are gone when he snores, right in your ear, and your hair is blown back into your face. You try to scoot away from him, but in his sleep his hand tightens on your hip, holding you in place.

“Piotr,” you mumble, trying to get away from him. “Piotr.” You bump back into him slightly, hoping he’s a light sleeper. He doesn’t move. As you try to twist around in his grip, you feel the distinct feeling of his dick pressing into your ass.

“Oh my god,” you mumble. All gentleness gone, you pick his hand off your waist and let it drop onto the bed.

Piotr wakes up then, blinking and confused. “What?” he asks groggily, his voice deeper than usual. He must realize how close to you he is, but also his predicament, because he doesn’t move away.

“Morning,” you say, getting up to take a shower. You thought about making it even more awkward for him, but decided against it.

The shower’s just as gross as the motel room, and you don’t feel any cleaner when you get out. You dress as quickly as you can, not wanting to waste another minute in the dirty motel.

When you get out, Piotr’s all ready. “Someone dropped off another cab.”

“Good. I hope it works this time,” you say, shooting a pointed look at him. He rolls his eyes, leading you out front and to the cab.

Thankfully, you make it to the address Sergei gave you without any more problems. It took a couple more hours, and you’re half-surprised the guy didn’t catch on that you were coming.

Piotr stops in front of a small apartment complex, looking like it’s seen better days. Loitering around the front is a group of suspicious looking men, and you know instantly you’re at the right place.

Cautiously, you get out and make your way over to the guys. “Where’s Reid?” Piotr asks. He’s met with glares and curious eyes. One man juts a thumb behind him, indicating to go into the complex and upstairs.

Piotr nods, letting you go in front of him. He follows you up the stairs, placing his hand lightly on the small of your back as you go. Once you’ve gone up the first flight of stairs, you can tell which room Reid is in. There’s another small group of Irish guys outside, and they stare at the both of you as you go in.

Reid is sitting at a table, and Piotr approaches him first. “You know what we came for.”

“You’ll get your money,” he states casually, as if Piotr asked about the weather.

“We’ll get it now, and we’ll be on our way. It’s simple,” you say, showing him the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans.

“Since when did the Ranskahovs send women to do their dirty work?”

You roll your eyes, striding over to where he’s sitting and kicking him under the chin. In an instant, he’s out of his chair and flying at you, hitting you roughly in the jaw. You stumble back, clutching at your jaw.

“Control your bitch, man,” Reid spits at Piotr, muttering something under his breath that’s directed at you, but thankfully you don’t speak Gaelic.

Reid tosses a small bag of cash at Piotr’s feet, “It’s not worth the trouble.”

Piotr spits a derogative at him in Russian, and slams the door as you leave. The men watch you as you get back in the cab, and it’s almost eerie, even though you would have done the same to them if they came to the garage.

On the drive back, Piotr’s more quiet than usual, considering it went relatively well. At the worst you’d thought you would have had to take on part of the mob.

Half an hour out he turns onto a side street with no exit and pulls over. “Let me see your jaw.”

You turn to him, showing him the right side of your face. You’d avoided looking at it in the mirror, fearing the worst. It was throbbing and painful, but you didn’t think it was broken.

Piotr reaches out to touch it and you hiss, jerking away from him in pain. He hums in apology and presses into the tender skin. “Is not broken,” he confirms.

His hand lingers on your face and look look up at him in confusion. He meets your eyes and surges forward, kissing you passionately. His fingers tighten on your jaw and you whimper slightly, before he moves it to the back of your head.

You almost push him away, but it feels so good, except it’s Piotr. You’re confused and angry but you don’t want him to stop and you wonder why you’ve never done this before and then his hand gravitates to your breasts and now you really wonder why you’ve never done this before.

He pulls your shirt off, not bothering to be gentle. He has a harder time with you bralette, but you manage to wiggle it off. He pulls his shirt off next and pulls you back into him. Your breasts press into his chest as he holds you tightly, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

He moves his seat back and pats his lap, grabbing your hips as you straddle him. His mouth attaches to your neck, sucking a hot and messy trail down to your nipple. You grind down onto him, feeling restricted by all the layers between you two.

With a bit of fumbling and awkward movements, you manage to pull your jeans off, tossing them onto the floorboard. Piotr pulls your panties to the side, spits on his fingers, and instantly pushes three inside of you.

It’s tight and almost painful, but it feels so filling. He pushes his fingers deep into you, roughly pressing against your g-spot. He fingers you harshly, fast and quick enough to have you panting out moans.

His thumb rubs rapid circles on your clit, while his other hand grabs the back of your neck and drags you down to meet his lips. You moan into his mouth as your hips roll to the rhythm of his fingers.

He continues his movements for only a few more minutes, and you’re already close to coming. As you come, you bite Piotr’s lip. In retaliation, he keeps fingering you. You’re sensitive and his movements on your clit don’t stop. You try to move away but his hand on your waist keeps you in place.

Soon the uncomfortable pressure on your clit turns into pleasure, and you’re gripping Piotr’s shoulder tightly as you feel your stomach start to get tingly. With a whimper you’re cumming again, this time more intense than the last.

Still, he keeps up the delicious torture, and you just pant as he continues. Your body is tired, but if he stops now you’ll never forgive him. Even faster than the last time, you cum for the third time in 15 minutes.

Your legs shake and you can hardly control the high-pitched moan you let out. Spent, you lean back against the steering wheel and look at Piotr through your lashes. He’s smirking, beyond proud of what he did to you.

Without meaning to, you lean on the horn and you both jump in surprise. At the end of the alley, a walker turns his head to the car. After a minute he keeps walking, and you look at Piotr and laugh.

He smiles at you, truly, for the first time you recall. As if he’s broken from a trance, he lifts his hips off the seat, unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans and boxers down.

He takes his dick into his hand, stroking himself quickly a few times, before teasing your entrance with it. By now you’re dripping wet, and he slides in easily. You almost don’t trust yourself to sit up and drop back down onto him, so he holds your hips in place and thrusts up into you.

You grip onto Piotr’s biceps as he roughly fucks you, your finger tracing the smattering of tattoos on his arm. Without warning, he grabs your chin in his hand and presses his lips to yours. Your jaw is aching in pain, but you don’t mind. You can barely feel it.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling the short strands roughly. Within a few minutes, Piotr’s thrust become sloppy, and with a bite to your neck, he cums inside you. You both stay there for a few seconds, trying to catch your breaths, before you shakily clamber off him and search for your clothes.

Silently, you both redress, and Piotr backs out of the alley. The mood between you two feels changed, yet somehow also the same as it was. You’re too tired to analyze it. Instead you lean your head against the cold window of the cab and watch the unfamiliar streets pass by.

Day Three

You wake up as Piotr drives into the garage, hitting the speed bump at the entrance too fast. “Wake up, princess,” Piotr says, elbowing you fully awake.

You and Piotr make your way over to Sergei, who’s surprisingly still at the garage. Before Piotr turned the cab off you saw the time read well past 3 am. Piotr hands him the bag of money, walking off to talk to a group of guys.

“How did it go?” Sergei asks.

“Better than I expected,” you truly admit with a small smile.

#the fic in which piotr is accurately written #writing #Daredevil #daredevil season one #daredevil one shot #daredevil imagine #piotr #piotr x reader #piotr daredevil #piotr veselov #piotr veselov x reader #marvel one shot #marvel imagine

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theranskahovs · 7 years

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Brief Introductions *Piotr x Reader*

Request: I love your Piotr. I have this vision in my head where a female is on the streets (running/working out) or picking up Starbucks (Tsarbucks) daily and runs into him briefly. Then he plans his time so he is on the street (on break or as his shift ends/begins) just as she passes by as he looks forward to their interactions.Then for a few days he isn’t there and she is sad and then a few days later sees him again and he finally has the courage to ask her out??!!! And she agrees Warnings: none :) A/N: a+ to me for being cliche try not to cringe too hard :^)

She always walked her dog at the same time every day since she moved to town. It happened to be at 2:30 in the afternoon, and it was rarely missed, no matter the weather. Rain or snow, she’d be walking her dog down the block.

He’d recently made it a routine to eat his lunch on the same street. He didn’t know why, but every afternoon he’d be there, standing outside his cab, stretching his legs and eating takeout.

Their paths didn’t cross until late into his routine. He’d balled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it into a nearby trash can (He made it on the first try. That didn’t happen too often.) when he heard the commotion. He looked up to see a dog was barking ferociously at him, its owner struggling to keep a hold on the leash.

She’d been shushing her dog, trying not to make a scene, but the dog won the battle. As the leash dragged along the sidewalk, she wondered how fast she’d have to run to catch him. Her dog stopped in front of a cabbie, barking up at him a few times before jumping up to his waist and pawing at his shirt.

You jogged up to the pair, trying to pull your dog away from the stranger. He didn’t seem to mind, though, and gave your dog a scratch behind the ears. Your dog didn’t even look at you as she was being pet by the man. He looks up at you and smiles crookedly, almost like he’s not sure if he should apologize or not.

You do first. “I’m sorry about that. She’s being really weird today, I’ve never seen her act like this.”

“It’s no problem,” he assures you with a smile, and something like a Russian accent. You smile back and him and manage to pull your dog away, continuing on your walk.

That wasn’t the last time your dog had to greet the man, and each day you talked with him a little more, until you started to bring him deserts to have with his lunch. You’d become close friends, even if you only talked for a half hour every day.

For the last couple days, though, Piotr hadn’t been showing up. You’d wondered if he grew bored of talking with you, or if his lunch break was moved. You even went so far as to question if something happened to him.

The joy you felt when you saw him leaning on his taxi the next day was immeasurable. “Hey!” You greet, unable to keep the smile off your face.

“Hi,” he says, popping his knuckles nervously. “Do you want to go out?” He asks quickly.

“Piotr-”

“It’s ok if you don’t want to. I know you don’t know me that well or anything and this is probably weird and if you say no I won’t bother y-”

“Piotr, I’d like that,” you answer as he looks at you.

“Great,” he says. “This time tomorrow?”

“You know where to find me,” you joke. Your dog paces between both of your legs, jumping up on Piotr happily.

#writing #piotr #piotr x reader #piotr veselov #piotr daredevil #piotr veselov x reader #Daredevil #daredevil season one #daredevil imagine #daredevil one shot #marvel one shot #marvel imagine #marvel

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theranskahovs · 7 years

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Light as a Feather *Piotr x Reader* Smut

Warnings: smut. (well, oral. female receiving) Word Count: 1200 A/N: feedback + requests are always welcome :* p.s. sorry im a hoe Translations: кукла - doll

You squinted at your phone, scrolling through Instagram and trying to decide what you should comment on your friend’s photo. A rerun of a random show was on TV, and Piotr was barely watching it. He’d been more cuddly than usual lately, always pulling you close to him and pressing his body to yours. So when he patted his thigh and tried to pull you closer to him, you scoffed in horror.

“I’ll crush you,” you argue with a pout.

Piotr chuckles, “You’d still be light if you were sitting on my face.” You blush at his unintended double meaning.

“Um once again, I’d crush you..” He just scoffs in disagreement and reaches out to you. You comply, letting him pull you onto his lap.

“See? Am fine,” he points out, nuzzling his way to your neck to place a sloppy kiss there.

“Mhm,” you mutter, turning back to your phone. Piotr rests his chin on your shoulder, watching you scroll through your feed. He occasionally grunts when he sees you like an unworthy picture. He quickly grows bored, trying to focus his attention either on the TV or your phone, but fails.

His hands become heavier on your waist and thigh, as he presses kisses to the back of your neck and shoulder. You unconsciously lean back into his touch, and he takes that as a sign to slip his hand up your shirt. You pretend to not know what he’s doing, but it’s hard when his rough hands are playing with your breasts. You set your phone down and turn to face him.

“Yeah, Petya?” Your question sounds almost innocent but he’s focusing on the way your thighs feel around his. He ignores your question, instead placing his hand on the back of your neck, leading you down for a kiss. You smile against his mouth as he squeezes your ass, pushing your skirt up out of the way.

He looks up at you, his thumbs stroking your hips. You’re half-straddling him, with his leg in between yours. You pull away and tilt your head to the side, waiting for his answer. Teasingly, you grind down onto his leg, gasping at the perfect amount of friction.

“You seemed bored,” he comments, lifting up his left leg so you slide further up onto his waist. You squeal, placing your palms on his chest for support.

“You were the one clinging onto me for the past hour,” you argue, although he was right. His thumb brushes over your clit, still separated from him by your panties, but you smirk at his touch anyway.

He lifts his head off the back of the sofa, bringing his lips to the top of your stomach. He softly kisses all the way down, past your bellybutton, to the top of your panties.

His fingers dance under the waistline as he makes eye contact with you. “Let’s get these off, yeah?” You nod eagerly, getting up to toss your underwear off. He looks at you like you’re a goddess, a mix of adoration and mischief in his eyes.

“Come here, kitten,” he commands, his accent suddenly more prominent. He curls a finger at you, and you practically melt. He pats the sofa on both sides of him, and you straddle him.

He pulls you onto your knees, so your thighs are touching the back of the couch and you’re facing the wall. You realize what he’s doing and stiffen up a bit. He strokes your thighs reassuringly and lightly pulls you over his face. “See? Light as a feather.”

Before you can refute his point, he places a kiss to your inner thigh and you’re hyperaware of his warm breath on your core. He pulls you fully into him, and you stagger forward, palm against the wall and the other on your boyfriend’s shoulder.

Neither of you mind, though, as he’s already placing teasing kisses up and down your pussy. You’re embarrassingly wet as his tongue traces your entrance, dipping in for only a fraction of a second before he moves on.

Your fingers clench on his shoulder as he licks his way up to your clit, slowly tracing circles. He pulls away to take a breath and peer up at you. He waits until you look at him and then tells you, “You taste heavenly, кукла.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you notice your wetness on his mouth. He sends you a smug smirk and a wink, and goes back to eating you out. You swear it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

His hand cups your breast, massaging it nimbly in his hand. He tweaks the hardened nipple, and moves onto the other.

He sucks on your clit gently, and you moan softly. The sound is slightly muffled as you bit your lip. The hand that Piotr was resting on your waist dances down your body. He places his index finger in his mouth, making sure it’s wet before gently pushing it into you.

It’s not too much, but it’s not enough, either. Piotr waits until you’re stretched out, then adds his middle finger. He pushes deep into you, searching for your g-spot. After a second, you cry out and squirm against him.

“Do you like that, kitten?” he asks, resuming his work on your clit while you freely circle your hips onto his fingers.

“Yeah,” you confirm, a bit breathless. The combination of Piotr’s tongue, fingers, and the position you’re in have you easily getting closer and closer to orgasming.

Your hand that was on the wall settles onto the back of the couch for better balance. You’re rocking forward a bit, desperate to feed the fire building inside you.

You’re panting as Piotr adds a third finger, while alternating between soft sucks and rough licks to your clit. “Piotr,” you whine out, one of your hands reaching up to grasp at his hair.

“Cum for me, baby,” Piotr commands, his idle hand squeezing the back of your thigh.

At his words, you do. It’s like waves crashing against a seaside cliff as you cum with a long moan. Piotr’s fingers slow inside you, and he stops his assault on your clit, knowing how oversensitive it can get. Once you’ve rode out your orgasm, he places his fingers in his mouth, licking them clean. His mouth returns back to you, making sure he gets everything.

Shakily, you sink down to your knees, and pull your boyfriend in for a lazy, drawn-out kiss. Your fingers thread through his hair as you get your breath back. “That was amazing,” you say, placing a kiss to his jaw.

He smiles at you, squeezing your waist. “Agreed.”

#has anyone noticed thigh riding is a new trend? like in smut?? also facesitting? ha i just followed the crowd. thats a lie pls kinkshame me #Daredevil #daredevil smut #daredevil season one #daredevil one shot #daredevil imagine #piotr #piotr x reader #piotr daredevil #piotr veselov #piotr veselov x reader #writing

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theranskahovs · 7 years

Text

Midnight Promises *Piotr x Reader*

Warnings: none Word Count: 440 A/N: long time no post sorry. i’ve been rapidly going through fandoms and having existential crises all month oops :^) requests n feedback appreciated!

It’s well past the witching hour when Piotr comes home. He fumbles with his keys in the dark, grateful he hadn’t lost them during the long night. It takes him a minute to find the keyhole in the apartment door by the dim hall light. Piotr bumps into his door on the way in, not from darkness but from the sudden pain in his leg. He clutches at the doorjamb, favoring his leg and waiting for the pain to ease.

Just as he regains his breath, he coughs weakly, vaguely aware of an all too familiar coppery taste. That’s when he spots you on the couch, a light blanket draped over your sleeping form.

You’d always waited up for him, but lately it’s been happening more frequently and each time it seems to be later and later. He winces as he sees your head is turned at a disturbing angle, undoubtedly from watching TV. More than anything he doesn’t want you to wake up with a sore neck, which is an ironic thought since he definitely has a bruised rib and a stab wound in his thigh. If he were just a tad less lucky, he’d have a bullet in his chest, too.

He turns off the TV and gently scoops you up into his arms. You stir, eyes sleepy and unfocused to the dark. “What?” You murmur, dazed from your unexpected nap.

“Shh, just me,” he whispers. You take in the dark city outside of your large window and realize just how late it must be.

“Wait, are you alright?” You ask, reaching up to cup his face. He grimaces as you touch a fresh cut, be you don’t notice.

“Yeah, am fine. Lost track of time at the garage.” He lays you down softly on the bed, and you attempt to pull him down with you.

“I’ll be a minute, kitten,” he says, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door. He always lets you patch him up. Not tonight.

As he washes the dried blood off his body he glances at his reflection. His jaw is already bruising and his eyes show just how little sleep he’s had recently. As he pulls his sweats on, he makes a promise to himself. He promises to get you away from this life he’s made for himself. The one where you worry every night if he’s coming back alive or not. As he takes his place behind you in bed and places his hand on your waist, he promises that with all the life still left inside of him. He’ll get you both away.

#Daredevil #daredevil season one #daredevil imagine #daredevil one shot #piotr #piotr x reader #piotr daredevil #piotr veselov #piotr veselov x reader #writing

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theranskahovs · 7 years

Text

Wet *Piotr x Reader Smut*

Warnings: shower smut Word Count: 1400 A/N: I’m more of a slut for piotr than the brothers so hmu about requests or headcanons about him! also feedback is appreciated <3 Translations: кукла- doll. младенец- baby

"She's honestly being so annoying," you complain. Piotr just grunts in response, stepping under the shower's spray to wet his tan hair.

You're telling your boyfriend about an argument with your best friend. He doesn't respond much, but you know he's listening. He's preoccupied with the thought of having to leave for the garage soon.

It's not often that you two shower together, but you like it. Although it is a bit cramped, you like talking to him about the day and spending time with him before he goes to work.

"I have to wash my face," you tell him, executing the awkward shuffle around each other. Piotr pats your butt as you wiggle past him, earning him a playfully stern look that says, "Don't start anything."

You shiver as you step from the cold end of the stall into the barely warmer spray. The water's been on for about five minutes, but it still runs cold sometimes. You blame the location of your apartment, in Hell's Kitchen the most you can expect is that it does have water.

As you wash your face, the water unexpectedly turns hot. You let out an angry shout, moving back past Piotr and pushing the remaining suds from your face. "Your turn," you mumble, a bit harshly.

Piotr notices your frustration at the small inconvenience. He places his hands on your shoulders, rubbing gently. "Why are you so stressed, кукла?" He pulls you back a bit, so he can stay under the newly hot water but still hold you. You shrug, a small scowl sticking to your features. He presses a reassuring kiss to your shoulder. "C'mon, tell me. If you need something taken care of, just say the word."

You smile slightly, turning to face him. "It's not like that, Petya." You push a damp strand of hair away from where it's sticking to your cheek. "It's just- life is fucking annoying. My apartment is disgusting, no matter how much I try to fix it, my job is frustrating, and now my best friend is apparently stabbing me in the back? I know I have it relatively easy compared to a lot of people, but is it too much to ask to have working pipes, goddamnit." You pound on the tiled wall once for emphasis. You swear you can hear rats scuttle inside it, and it makes you involuntarily shiver, despite the water being hot now.

Piotr tilts his head to the side minutely, and tsk's at you. "But you have a great boyfriend, nyet?" You push his chest lightly, a laugh bubbling up from your throat. You realize how ridiculous you're being, but it's still frustrating to you.

"He'd be even greater if he wouldn't push the shower head out of my reach," you joke. You stand on your tip toes to adjust the shower head so it reaches half on both of you. Water drips onto Piotr's face and he exaggeratedly wipes it off, flicking it at you.

You flinch away from him, even thought you're already wet. You both laugh when you realize what you did, and he reaches out to tickle your sides, causing your laughs to increase tenfold. "Pi!" you wheeze out in between chuckles, "We're gonna slip!"

He shakes his head, wrapping his arms around your middle tightly. "Not on my watch." He mimics a stereotypically thick Russian accent. "Am big strong man." Tears form in your eyes as you laugh harder than you have in a while.

Piotr smiles down at you, memorizing the way you look as you radiate happiness, even thought it's 7 in the morning. You notice him staring at you, and reach up to place a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, starting to giggle anew when you don't quite meet your target.

Piotr shakes his head, a loving look on his face, "You're adorable." He bends down to place a kiss to your forehead, his hand splayed across the back of your neck. Before he can fully pull away, you tilt you head up, your soft lips meeting his chapped ones in a gentle kiss.

His hands travel from your neck to the dip of your back, pulling you into his body and deepening the kiss. You're so close your breasts push up against him, your nipples perking up when they touch his chest.

His fingers stroke through your hair, accidentally catching in the tangled strands. He mumbles an apology, but before he's finished you press your lips back to his. His tongue brushes yours, and you gasp as his rough hands alternate from squeezing your ass to kneading your breast.

Your palms press against his abs, feeling the firm muscles littered with scars from too many fights and narrow escapes. Your nails drag down below his belly button, over the hair scattered there and downward until your hand grasps his dick.

You give him a few lazy pumps, leaving him panting into the kiss. His head drops to your shoulder as you stroke him, biting down just enough to leave a mark. He licks over the area to soothe the pain, and begins again in another spot. You moan softly at the feeling of him sucking on that special place behind under your ear.

He laughs quietly into your neck, loving how he can get you turned on so fast. The irony hits him as you fondle his balls and he lets out a needy groan.

His fingers slip in between your bodies, pushing two into your wet folds and immediately curling them. His thumb passes over your clit and you swear if he continues for only two more minutes you'll come.

"Piotr," you whimper, needing to feel closer than you already are.

"Alright, alright. Hang on, младенец," he murmurs. He bends slightly, hands grabbing onto the backs of your thighs and hoisting you up level to his dick. Your hands claw at his shoulder, and your legs wrap around his waist, terrified of falling. He presses you against the wall, and holds you steadily. He looks at you one more time, and you nod eagerly, knowing he's asking if you're ready.

He enters slowly at first, stretching you out in an agonizingly slow manner. You always lose your breath at the feeling of him being inside you- it feels so perfect and right and you fit together like two puzzles pieces. Piotr exhales shakily before thrusting up into you, causing you to lean your head back against the shower wall.

Water from Piotr's hair is dripping into his face as he thrusts into you determinedly, but it doesn't phase him. His breath is ragged as he leans in for a kiss, biting your lip gently.

The tile wall is freezing against your back, your hair is falling in your face, and you're just close enough to the spray that it only reaches half your arm, but all your senses perceive is Piotr toying with your clit as he starts hitting that sweet spot in you.

Your hands tug at his hair as you whimper in his ear. Your legs quake as you feel like a volcano is erupting inside of you, and pleasure ripples through you in seismic waves.

Piotr isn't far behind, with a few more thrusts and the feeling of your walls tightening around him he comes, as well. He thumbs your clit gently as he draws out your orgasm. Piotr's forehead rests on yours as you both try to catch your breath.

He holds you close for another minute or so, before gently pulling out and setting you back on the ground. Your legs feel shaky as you clutch his tattooed arm for support.

He reaches out of the shower for a washcloth, and wets it in the water that has recently turned colder again. He lightly drags it up your thigh, cleaning you up. He places a kiss to your forehead and you close your eyes with a content sigh.

"You don't seem to be stressed anymore," he perceives. All you can do is nod with a blissful smile on your face as he places his hand on your waist and pulls you in for a hug.

In the back of your mind you remember he has to leave for work soon, and so do you, but for right now you're happy with staying under the water for just a few more minutes.

#writing #piotr #piotr x reader #piotr veselov #piotr veselov x reader #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #marvel smut #daredevil imagine #daredevil #daredevil season one #daredevil smut #daredevil one shot

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