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maysileeewrites · 5 months

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a helping hand - John Murphy x reader

Summary: „Why are you helping me? I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“ Set during 1 x 10 (I am become Death), based on this teaser.

warnings: mentions of blood + injuries, angst, Murphy being Murphy (yes, he does have a soft side in this, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not still a dick); please lmk if I forgot something!

AN: I’m not quite sure whether anyone will still care for Murphy x reader in 2023, but I love my trash son so much, I just had to write something about him. Please let me know if you liked it!

You dip the bloodied cloth into the bucket filled with water, watching as the water slowly turns red. Your hands are bloody as well and there’s dried blood crested under your fingernails, but with all the sick teens around you needing medical attendance, you don’t have time to try to thoroughly wash your hands, so you just dip them into the water, grabbing a bar of soap, watching as the water turns an even deeper red.

Blood.

There’s just so much of it.

You sigh, standing up again. There’s no time for dwelling on your thoughts, not when the whole first floor of the Dropship is full of sick, coughing teenagers that need your help.

You go to Fox and Connor next, checking up on them. But apart from trying to clean them up - they’ve started coughing up blood as well - and getting them to drink some water, there isn’t much you can do to actually help them. You have no medicine, no painkillers - apart from Monty’s moonshine and considering that a painkiller really is a stretch in your opinion -, nothing. Only a few spare blankets you and Clarke gave out earlier, in order to help keep everyone warm.

A sudden wave of anger and irritation at your helplessness when faced with this unknown, dangerous virus overcomes you and you clench your fists in frustration. You allow yourself a moment to try and bury that emotion deep inside - because being this emotionally overwhelmed, you won’t be any help to the others -, closing your eyes and breathing deeply.

When you open your eyes again, they land on Murphy - who’s looking right back at you with his good eye, the other one is still swollen shut.

You gulp, trying to swallow down the nervousness that is suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Murphy’s the one who brought the disease into the Camp.

After being tortured by the grounders for days, you try to remind yourself. After being unceremoniously tossed out of Camp for a murder he didn’t commit. And while he’s definitely a rude asshole that can be a bit unpredictable at times - though you think more often than not he’s just lashing out when provoked, attacked, or in case of the whole Charlotte incident, wrongfully accused - you don’t think that he’s as bad as everyone makes him out to be.

But maybe that’s just you being naive, always wanting to see the good in people. He did try to go after Charlotte, after all. Though, you think, that probably had more to do with him seeking justice - a twisted, self-righteous kind of justice, but still justice - than vengeance.

You sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Whatever the deal with Murphy is - and whatever the reason for you to suddenly spend so much of your thoughts on him is - right now, it doesn’t matter.

Right now the only thing that matters is that he’s sick and hurt and he needs someone to help him clean up his wounds and that’s exactly what you’re here for.

So, you take a deep breath and square your shoulders, before walking over to him and dropping down in front of him. His blue-green eyes - the good one at least- meet yours for just a split second, but then he’s looking away again. You dip the cloth into the bucket of water - after helping Fox and Connor you’d gone out to get some fresh water - and reach out for him, but just when you’re about to touch him, he twists away from you.

„What’re you doing?“, he says, his voice low, distrust and irritation evident in his expression.

„Helping you“, you answer, gesturing to the wet cloth in your hands. „Someone needs to clean up your wounds, Murphy.“

He scoffs. „Yeah, right.“

You frown. „Look Murphy, just let me help you, please.“

He doesn’t say anything to that, doesn’t acknowledge your words with anything other than a raise of his eyebrows, but you decide to just take his lack of a verbal response as a good sign - or at least as a sign that he hopefully won’t refuse your help any further.

You wet the cloth cloth again, before carefully reaching your hand out to him again. This time, he doesn’t twist away from you, so you gingerly touch his bloodied and scarred cheek with your fingertips, before carefully applying pressure with the cloth.

All the while, Murphy looks at you, an undecipherable emotion in his blue-green eyes. The intensity of his gaze is distracting, and you swallow, trying to concentrate on cleaning up his wounds, trying to ignore the burning heat of his gaze. Though it’s impossible to really ignore it, with you two being so close that you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, causing you to shiver.

Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - if you weren’t paying so much attention, you might’ve missed it, but as it is, you can see the bitter smirk that crosses his lips for an instant, before he bites down hard on his lips.

Your eyes meet then. You swallow - you feel caught in his stare, unable to look at anything but him.

„Why are you helping me?“, he asks you, his voice low and raspy and laced with something that almost sounds like desperation. „I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“

„Because you need help“, you say, underlining your words by lightly trailing your fingertips over the deep cut on his left cheek. „And because I want to understand you.“ It’s true - you do want to understand him. You want to know how he came to be who he is today, why on earth he set fire to a room on the Ark.

And fuck. This - this is dangerous.

That bitter smirk crosses his face again. „Oh, so you want to know why I’m such a jerk, why I told the Camp’s location to the grounders, is that it?“

„You were tortured“, you say softly, but Murphy only scoffs.

„Yeah, I’m afraid that doesn’t count as an excuse“, he says, voice full of bitterness.

„Wha-“, you start to say, but then you remember that you saw Bellamy talking to Murphy earlier. And yes, that would certainly explain Murphy’s comments about his being tortured not being an excuse for giving up your location.

You sigh frustratedly. Of course you know that Bellamy only wants to protect everyone at Camp, but you also know him well enough to imagine him making some kind of petty remark how he wouldn’t have caved under torture, wouldn’t have given up the Camp’s location.

Which - fuck that. Anyone would eventually cave under torture, even someone as strong-willed and fierce as Bellamy.

Murphy’s hiss of pain when you accidentally linger too long on one of his cuts with your fingertips draws you out of your thoughts. „Sorry“ you say, biting your lip.

Murphy just shrugs and suddenly you’re hit with the desperate urge to help him, even though you’re not quite sure if there even is anything you can do that could make his situation better - apart from cleaning up his wounds, which you already are doing.

„I’m sorry for what happened to you“, you say then, looking at him. „That’s not - I can only imagine what you went through and I really am sorry that that happened to you.“

Murphy looks at you, confusion and irritation evident in his expression.

„And I know that won’t change anything-“

„No it won’t“, Murphy interrupts you, but this time, there’s no venom in his voice - just pain and resignation. „But it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.“

Now it’s your turn to be confused. As you continue cleaning up his wounds, you mull over his words in your mind, trying to understand what he’s implying with his words. Does he mean that he was tortured on the Ark? But that can’t be right, can it? Yes, the Ark’s council is strict and unforgiving, but you haven’t heard about them torturing somebody.

„Can you even see anything like that?“, Murphy says, interrupting your thought process, and suddenly he’s reaching out with one hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallow, trying desperately not to show how much that one little touch affected you. But your heart is thundering so loudly in your chest that you’re convinced that he’s able to hear it.

Especially once you can no longer pretend to re-inspect the cuts on his face yet again - you really need to take a look at the wounds on his chest.

You clear your throat, trying to sound more confident than you feel. „I - uh - I need to take a look at the wounds on your chest, judging by all that blood I’ll probably need to do some stitches … uhm could you - uh - maybe take off your shirt?“

Kill me, you think, wanting to die from embarrassment. Of course, the first time you’ll see a boy without his shirt on - apart from some of the boys that walk around Camp shirtless in the morning and you don’t think that they actually count - has to be in this weird situation.

As if reading your thoughts, Murphy just smirks, before taking off his shirt. But just when’s almost free of his shirt, he hisses, his face screwing up in pain.

„Let me“, you say, helping him.

For a moment, you just stare at each other breathlessly.

Then, so quietly that you’re not quite sure whether you’ve imagined it, he says: „Thank you.“

You nod, clearing your throat. Not knowing what else to say, you start inspecting his chest, lightly trailing your fingertips over the various scratches and other wounds - trying not to be distracted by his muscles you can feel under your fingertips and his burning gaze.

Murphy hisses again when your fingers brush over a particularly deep wound. „Sorry“, you murmur, leaning in even closer to get a better look at his wound. „This wound needs some stitches, I’m, uh, going to get a needle and some thread.“

You get up and walk over to where all the medical supplies are stored, thankful for this short moment away from Murphy, his intense stare and your confusing thoughts about him.

„Here“, you say, after sitting down in front of Murphy again and hand him the bottle of moonshine you’ve grabbed as well, „you might want to drink this before I get started on those stitches.“

Murphy just nods, taking the bottle of moonshine from you and taking a long, big sip. „Do your worst“, he says, prompting you to roll your eyes.

„Thanks for the vote of confidence“, you murmur, though you can understand why he’d be apprehensive about this. If it were you being in his situation, you’d rather be stitched up by a trained doctor as well, but since you teens are all on your own and Clarke, the only one of you with actual medical training is currently getting some well-deserved sleep, you’re his only option. Unlike Clarke, you haven’t received any actual medical training but you do know how to give stitches - in theory at least - so you hopefully won’t screw this up.

Here goes nothing, you think, getting started on the stitches.

Murphy bites down hard on his lips, though a slight hiss still escapes him.

You cringe, shooting him an apologetic smile before concentrating on his wound again. „Sorry.“

Murphy doesn’t say anything in response, just nods.

You’re both quiet as you continue with the stitches. Then, when you’re almost done, Murphy suddenly says: „I got real sick when I was thirteen … only made it because my dad stole some medicine for me ... course, he got floated for it …“

You swallow, meeting his gaze. You don’t know why he’s suddenly telling you this - you just know that the story he’s about to tell you most likely won’t have a happy ending.

Murphy looks away from you then, laughing bitterly. „My mother … she was never the same after his death … She started drinking. Blamed me for his death. Told me everyday that I’m a worthless good-for-nothing that’s responsible for his father’s death. She died three years after him … and I just-“

He stops talking then, shaking his head.

„Murphy, I-“, you start to say, though you stop as well, not quite knowing what it is that you actually want to say. Murphy suddenly opening up to you is so confusing and his story so heartbreaking, you’re not quite sure what the appropriate words for this situation are, let alone if there even are any.

„Anyway“, Murphy now says, voice tinged with bitterness, „I just - I had all this pai- anger in me and I didn’t know how to handle it, how to let it out. So I set fire to those rooms, got arrested.“

„Murphy …“, you say, your voice hollow, your heart breaking for the broken, angry boy in front of.

He laughs dryly, though the sound has a wheezing quality to it that instantly worries you. „You wanted to know, didn’t you? Wanted to understand why I became such a jerk. Well, there you have it.“

„I do“, you say, putting away the needle and thread and looking at Murphy, meeting his gaze. „I do understand you, Murphy. I still think you’re an opportunistic jerk, but I understand, I really do. I - I know that it’s not worth much, but I am sorry that this happened to you, it’s awful.“

Murphy just shrugs, not saying anything.

But he’s still looking at you and now that you know what to look for, now that you finally understand him better, you see the pain in his expression.

Not just due to the torture. There’s so much more, pain that’s probably been building in him for years and that he turned into sharp, pointed hate and anger, because he didn’t know how to deal with all of his pain.

You want to help him, though you don’t really know how and why. Yes, he is a rude jerk and at Camp he was also somewhat of a bully, but you think that that’s most likely due to him not knowing how to communicate in something that’s not just anger and aggression. But you also believe that there’s more to him - that he’s not just this lonely, broken, rude jerk that that’s probably just a facade he’s hiding behind.

„I understand, Murphy“, you say again, still looking at the storm of emotions in his green-blue eyes. Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - he’s listening to you and something in his gaze tells you that he believes your words, believes you. „I truly do. But there’s more to life than just pain, anger and aggression.“

With that, you reach out a hand, softly grasping one of his hands with yours. You’re not quite sure why you’re doing it, you just know that you want to be there for Murphy, that you want to help him - and that you want him to understand that you truly mean your words.

Murphy’s arm jerks, as if he wants to rip his hand out of your grasp, but then he grasps your hand, squeezing it lightly. He reaches up with his other hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Just like before, your breath hitches. But this - this is different than before. This time, there’s no venom in Murphy’s gaze, no quiet challenge, no pent-up anger. Just curiosity and something softer that you can’t quite describe.

„I still don’t really get why you’re helping me“, Murphy says, leaning even closer to you. You’re so close that you could count the lashes on his good eye. You feel his breath ghosting over your skin and you shiver in anticipation.

„But I’m glad that I let you.“ With that, he leans in even closer, searching your eyes and whatever he sees in them, must convince him. He presses his lips to yours and you’re so overwhelmed that you don’t know how to react. But just when you feel Murphy starting to pull away, you kiss him back, bringing your free hand up to his neck.

You feel him smirk into the kiss and if you weren’t currently kissing him, you’d definitely roll your eyes at him. As it is, you continue kissing him, though you give his hand a squeeze that’s probably a bit too harsh.

Murphy just smirks again, deepening the kiss and tangling his hand in your hair. You can feel your heart start to beat faster and there’s a curious sensation in your stomach that feels like those butterflies that you’ve read about in books.

You lose yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of Murphy.

Kissing Murphy feels good, though his lips are chapped and dry and he hisses in pain when you overeagerly lean a little too much against him. But still - kissing Murphy feels good.

And even though you’re still confused and you know that one conversation won’t suddenly make him sunshine personified - you like his dry sarcasm way too much for that - you also know that you want more. You want to get to know Murphy, really get to know him, you want to be there for him. And if there are more occasions to kiss him along the way of getting to know him and helping him, then you certainly won’t complain about that.

Murphy gives you one last, bruising kiss, before breaking the kiss, breathlessly leaning his forehead against yours.

„I - Murphy - what …“, you stammer, still too wound up from the kiss.

Murphy smirks. „That was thank you.“

You can’t help but roll your eyes. „I see“, you say dryly.

„For stitching me up … and for not giving up on me“, Murphy adds, his voice serious again.

You smile softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his eye. „I’ll be sure to stick around then.“

Murphy grins, though there’s a vulnerability to it now that wasn’t there before. „Doesn’t sound too bad …“

„Yeah, it doesn’t“, you agree, before leaning up to kiss him again.

You feel him smiling into the kiss, causing you to smile as well.

Yes, the road ahead is not going to be easy - this is John Murphy, resident sarcastic, rude asshole, after all - but you’re not afraid to walk it with Murphy.

#john murphy x you #john murphy x reader #john murphy imagine #john murphy the 100 #john murphy #the 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 tv #richard harmon #john mother fucking murphy #the 100 x reader #the 100 x you #maysileewrites

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forevermorepassionate · 4 months

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Bellamy would be rough but Murphy would be mean

#The 100 #bellamy x reader #Bellamy Blake x reader #john murphy x reader #Murphy x reader #Murphy smut #Bellamy smut #bellamy blake #John Murphy #the 100 x reader #smut #drabble #fluff #female reader #smut fic #smut prompts #smut roleplay #smut writing

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mystra-midnight · 6 months

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Two Tickets to Paradise

summary: you'd fought and given up, then started fighting again. the lighthouse, which had started as a paradise, was turning into hell, and it was breaking you—slowly tearing away your sanity.

warnings: 18+ only. on the darker side. mentions of alcohol consumption. rough sex. dacryphilia. hints of emotional distress. hints of angst and/or mental anguish.

words: here.

notes: honestly wrote this so surprisingly quickly. murphy's always been one of my favs from the show - the arrogance, the vulnerability, the character development? jesus it just does thinks for me. (i don't think i'd ever say no if you send in thots and imagines for him)

The moment the lighthouse door slammed shut, you should have panicked, but you hadn't been able to find it in yourself to be afraid or even upset. After surviving a trek through a seemingly endless desert, then a boat ride across a seemingly endless ocean, a serpent attack, and a night out in the cold with an injured and angry delinquent, the lighthouse was a welcomed surprise—a perfect paradise.

Not even John—fucking—Murphy, with his toxic tongue and perfect eyes, could ruin your good mood. The two of you had never been particularly close, but you got along well enough that the shared space wasn't uncomfortable. For the first few days, you gave each other space, choosing to sit on opposite sides of the room and occupy yourselves.

Occasionally, the two of you would watch and rewatch the videotape that explained what caused the apocalypse on Earth. On the tenth day, you both drank yourselves stupid and spent hours sharing secrets, thoughts, and theories. You discovered you both had a mutual distrust of the adults who'd arrived on Earth and taken over as though they hadn't sent one hundred kids to their deaths until eventually passing out.

That became your routine for the next forty-five days. Or maybe it was fifty-four. You didn't know.

You tried to keep count, but the days had started to run together, turning into a blur of drunken moments that hurt to think about. You had screamed and cried. You had clawed at the doors until your nails bled. You'd fought and given up, then started fighting again. The lighthouse, which had started as a paradise, was turning into hell, and it was breaking you—slowly tearing away your sanity.

Murphy was in a similar predicament. Some days he screamed and raged around the room, breaking what he could. Other days, he sat completely still and stared ahead as though he no longer inhabited his own body. Eventually, you turned to each other for comfort and escape. That was how you'd found yourself bent over the arm of the sofa, his cock buried deep in your slick walls.

Murphy was wild and untamed, lost in a frenzy of emotions. His hand was fisted in your hair, pulling hard as he pounded you. The sound of his pelvis hitting your ass was obscene and loud, as were the moans and gasps forced from your lips. He was rough—rougher than you liked, but you still couldn't find it in yourself to care.

The pain and pleasure blended so beautifully together that it left you speechless and dazzled, only able to moan each time he pushed into the satin clutch of your cunt. Before this moment, you'd felt hopeless, utterly so, and at the end of your rope, your sanity had been stretched so thin and buried so deep in your being that you never thought you'd find it again.

Murphy found it.

And now the pain was starting to feel so good. It made you forget about the emptiness that had been eating away at you—the hopelessness, the desperation. You needed him. You needed him to stop your thoughts from racing and to fuck everything from your mind until all that remained was him, his cock, and the pleasure searing in your veins.

He happily obliged as he needed the distraction as much as you did.

Both of you needed to feel something—anything—instead of that all-consuming disparity. Luckily, the familiar warmth of orgasm was starting to course through your veins, leaving your skin sweat-slicked and your voice ragged as Murphy adjusted his angle, somehow driving his cock deeper into your sweet cunt, the tip of his cock hitting that spot that sent you suddenly careening.

“Murphy!” You sounded panicked, like you were breaking, and perhaps you were. He did it again, feeling your walls tighten around him. He was dripping with your slick; the wiry hair at the base of his shaft matted; your own equally as messy from where he pulled and yanked it. He was in a frenzy, chasing the climax snaking through his veins, relishing in the feeling of it coiling tighter and tighter in the pit of his stomach until he could hardly breathe, until all he felt was flames licking at his skin.

He was going to break you—maybe kill you—but you didn’t care because the same feelings were consuming you. It was glorious and all-consuming. You started to shake. Your thighs trembled so violently that only the arm of the couch kept you from collapsing.

He didn't notice—or maybe he did and he didn't care; either way, it didn't matter; you didn't mind.

He could use you; you'd let him. He could break you; you'd thank him.

But the moment his cock slipped from your slick walls, you couldn't forgive him. Tears stung in your eyes as you sobbed, the sound welling up from your chest only to be drowned under the sounds of his grunts and groans. Murphy snapped his hips forward, seemingly spurred onward by the tears that rolled down your cheeks in rivers, his pelvis meeting the reddened skin of your ass with a sinful slap, slap, slap.

The moment you needed and wanted with every beat of your heart faded away, your orgasm sleeping through your fingers like waters as you felt thick, ivory rops of come hit your lower back. Murphy tugged hard at your hair, sending pain blossoming through your scalp as he shadowed over you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You wanted to be angry. You wanted to fight and rage, as you'd done many times already. But the feel of his other hand moving between your legs, his fingers gathering your slick and bringing it to your own lips to taste, melted such thoughts from your brain.

"Not yet," he hissed, pushing two fingers into your mouth, the taste of your own arousal spreading over your tongue. "Not until you're begging."

#john murphy #john murphy smut #john murphy imagine #john murphy blurb #john murphy fanfiction #john murphy x reader #john murphy x you #john x you

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sleepershell · 5 months

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Azgeda Charm

synopsis The sister of Ontari from Azgeda decides it could be fun to free the sky boy pretending to be her sister’s fleimkepa.

word count 2668

note originally posted on Ao3

warnings 18+ minors please DNI, smut, swearing, penetrative sex, oral sex female receiving, dubious consent but not really, dom! reader, sub! murphy

pairing John Murphy x f!reader

“Chains? Really, she’s chained her pet up now?” She’s always been a bit overzealous, but my sister really has gotten herself into it this time. How does she expect no one to find out that she isn’t a true commander? Without the flame she’s just my idiot sister. “Give me the key. Now.”

I shove her man aside and stalk toward her quarters. He grunts, but won’t do anything about my treatment of him. If there’s anything good to say about my sister it’s that she protects me. In fact, I’m probably the only person other than Roan, Nia, and their goons who could ever talk back to her without getting skewered.

I’m quiet as I near the door, creeping extra slowly in my heavy boots. With my ear to the wood I hear the muffled sounds of her speaking to him–the scrawny Skaikru boy.

“There’s somebody else, okay? I’m sorry.” Doesn’t sound sorry to me. My breath tightens in my chest, my sister doesn’t like to be told no. And, if he fights her on it, she will certainly win, one way or another…

“Is she a commander too?” Well, you’re not really a commander are you, Ontari?

“No.” Chains rattle within. So she did have him chained up. What a charmer my sister is. I feel my heartbeat quicken but I can’t tell why. As though I’m in battle when I am not.

“Would she kill you if you ever lied to her,” The chains make a cracking sound, and I hear him grunt. “Did anything to break her trust, or upset her in any-”

I’m moving before I can think better of it. I don’t know why I would do such a horribly foolish thing but I do. When the door slams open Ontari is there, pulling him toward her by a chain that is cuffed around his neck. The look on his face is a perplexing one, hesitant but willing, typical man. I scoff. Loyalty is a myth. Ontari is bare, of course flaunting the body that has always been so much better than mine.

“Sister!” She is displeased. “You are interrupting.”

I shake my head at her. “Chit yu dula op?”

“Just having a little fun.” She grits out. I raise my brows at her, and she crosses her arms over her perky, bare breasts like an insolent child.

“Well. Glad to see you’ve learned some things about enslaving people.” I glance pointedly at the chain still in one of her hands. I can tell that upset her, but it’s true. How can she abuse her power like this when we’ve lived under the fist of others for so long? “Anyway, you wanted to know when King Roan arrived. He has.”

My sister sucks in a breath, composing herself. “Of course. Thank you, sister.” I lean in the doorway as she dresses and shift my glance over to see that her ‘fleimkepa’ is eyeing me cautiously. I narrow my eyes in return. He must be a snake to have fallen in with Ontari. Of course, I’m not much better. I’ve killed for her.

She slips past me. “And what should I do with your prisoner?” I mock.

“Don’t touch,” she hisses.

“Don’t worry.” I slam the door behind her before turning to take in the scene before me. It’s a pitiful display. The sky boy’s face is decorated in lines of dried blood, and he looks ridiculous in the robes he’s clad in. “Hello, liar.” He frowns. I can tell he doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to reveal his hand without knowing how much I already know. “What is your name?”

“People call me Murphy.”

“I didn’t ask what people call you. I asked for your name.”

He smirks but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It seems he’s used to playing pretend. “John Murphy.”

I approach him, our eyes not breaking contact. His are dark blue and difficult to read. I reach up and unlock the collar around his neck, dropping it to the floor in a loud metal thud. He isn’t bad looking. I noticed it when Ontari first began toting him around. I’m unsure if it’s the strong nose or the way his lips curl into a sarcastic smile at the slightest hint of play. He’s like a child that way.

“Well you’re welcome, John Murphy.” I turn away from him, walking toward the window. Everything is so big in Polis, and it’s startling to look down from so high up. “You should go before my sister returns.”

“Go? So you’ll disobey her?”

I can’t help but giggle at that. When I turn around he looks deadly serious. “I’m not afraid of her. Not like you, sky boy.”

“Sky boy.” He chuckles. “Alright, so if I walk out that door right now you won’t be killing me?”

“Nope.” I extend a hand toward the door. He shrugs and approaches it.

“Thanks. Your name?” He asks.

“(Y/n).” He nods. He does not go anywhere. I feel my stomach knotting. Ontari would very much not like this.

“Why do you stay with your sister?”

“She’s my sister.”

“Look, I’m not going to pry the answer out of you. You clearly don’t like her.” So casually he speaks to me, though I could easily murder him right here and anyone else surely would have already. There’s a knife at my hip, another in my boot. It would be too easy. “You could leave.”

At that, I scoff. “With you?”

“Well, I could manage getting out of here myself but it’d be a lot easier if you walked me out in chains.”

Ontari was right about him. He is smart, foxlike. I’ve always admired foxes, you know, before my sister would go in for the kill. I suddenly feel bare, but there’s no way he could know how much I’ve wanted to leave. I’ve spent my entire life in Ontari’s shadow. My perfect Natblida sister. And she has no idea the way Nia’s men would treat me behind closed doors, no idea the things I’ve done to protect her. My feet are moving now–what is it about this boy that makes me so thoughtless?

He holds out his wrists and I begin to tie them up. He flinches in pain as I pull the knot tight, and I tut at him. “Is it the sky that makes you all so weak, or just the coddling from your mothers?”

“I don’t have a mother anymore. Or a father.”

I meet his eyes, and again have no idea what I see in them.

“Then we are the same. Come on.” I yank him along with me, taking a huge breath before leaving the room. This could be very easy or end in Ontari slaying him on sight and finding some way to punish me. Why did I care if this pet of her’s died? “Hurry.” I hissed.

We’ve made it down the first hallway when I hear sounds from around the next corner. Luckily, there’s a shallow alcove in the dark to our left. I slam him into it, clasping my hand over his mouth and pressing my body tight against him. Hopefully this will be enough. He winks at me and I glare back.

Whoever it was passes us without incident, and we make the rest of our journey out undetected. Outside, he holds his hands out to me.

“I don’t think so.” I grin.

“Oh boy, what have I gotten myself into now.”

I lead him out of Polis, toward the surrounding forest where we won’t be so easily found. Pleased with our progress, I stop to rest.

“Are you letting me out of this anytime soon or should I be trying to escape?”

With my back to him, I ask the question that’s been on my mind. “You said to my sister there’s someone else. Is there?”

“There was. But, no, not anymore.” It’s a loaded answer, but one that causes my stomach to flutter regardless.

“So, you rejected your commander even without another woman on your mind?”

“We both know she isn’t a commander. And I don’t have a commander. Kind of a loner, when I’m not chained up.”

I turn. “And you find yourself chained up often, I assume?”

He shrugs. “More often than I’d like.”

I take a step toward him. If I could just read him this wouldn’t be so difficult. But if there’s one language I’m familiar with, it’s force. So, as I walk past him, I kick his knees out from under and he falls forward onto them. “So I’m to believe you don’t like being tied up?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I circle him, his eyes trained on me.

“How far would you go?” I am so out of my depth, but the way he looks up at me from below is like a drug. I could be this girl, the one who makes men fall on their knees. Maybe that’s who I am when men aren’t asking me to talk to my sister for them.

He blinks, and the first real smile I’ve seen breaks out on his face. “I’m yours.”

Those words alone send me into a frenzy. A sound escapes my throat and I grab him by the back of his head smashing my lips into his. He knows more of this than I do, I can tell, but when I back away there’s nothing mocking in the way he looks at me.

I take off my jacket first, then hesitate. This is the part I’ve always feared. “I don’t look like Ontari.” As if he couldn’t see already that she was built athletic and delicate like a doe and I was certainly not.

“And?” What an ass. But it works. I swallow and began to undress. As I do so, I don’t expect him to say anything. I know I’m bigger than her. But I can still have this. I don’t look at him until he clears his throat. “You’re beautiful.”

“What?” I croak.

“Do you need me to say it again? I want you.”

That’s it. I close the space between us. He eyes my tits from below. “Touch me.” I command.

He lifts his bound hands and raises a brow. I Shake my head ‘no.’ He'll have to figure it out. And he does. He brushes them up one leg and I shiver. He traces figure eights at the apex of my thighs. I part my legs in response, then grab his hand and bring it to my mouth. I take his first two fingers as far as they go, getting them wet, before returning them to him.

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. He brushes his fingers over my folds and then parts them. The fingers find their way to my entrance and I let out a moan. In response, he dives into me, pulling his fingers almost out before sliding them back in, over and over. His index finger curls inside me and my legs threaten to give out.

“John.” His eyes shoot up to me, as though I’ve said something more jarring than his own name. “I want your tongue.”

I lean back on the rough bark of a nearby tree and tilt my pelvis forward to give him access. He wastes no time in finding my clit, swirling his tongue around it. It’s almost too much all at once and I pull back.

“Can’t handle it?” I give him a halfhearted smack across the cheek, and it gives him all the answer he needs. His mouth finds me again, this time determined and rhythmic. Fuck. Who taught him how to do that?

My fingers find their way into his hair, and I tug at it as his mouth brings me closer and closer to oblivion. As it nears, I can’t hold back my whimpering moans, and he groans in response, the vibration of it sending me over the edge entirely. Braced against the tree, my body tremors in pleasure. When I glance back down he looks too smug.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Oh, nothing. Although you might want to work on your knot tying.” He raises the rope I’d tied around his wrists, his face smug.

I trace a finger down the side of his face, down along his neck. When I reach his chest, I give a hard shove, knocking him back onto the ground. While he’s still in shock, I grasp his hands and pin them down. Now he looks hungry.

“Would you like to be let go?” I ask in the sweetest voice I can muster, fluttering my eyelashes.

He shakes his head once. His eyes do not meet me, but are focused on my breasts which dangle right above him. I know what he wants, so I lean closer and he takes one of my nipples in his mouth. His tongue swirls, and I feel the hardness in his pants against my swollen cunt. I can’t help but rub myself on it and soon can’t take it anymore.

I let go of my grasp on him so I can undo the buttons on his pants. Apparently I take too long, because he slips his hands under mine and whips his cock out for me. My eyes widen and my pussy clenches at the sight. He is much more endowed than I would’ve expected from one of the weak sky people.

“You like what you see?” He is amused, and so I give his cock a light smack. He winces.

“I could kill you.” We smile at one another. This could be a very good arrangement.

I ease myself onto his hard cock. I’m so wet from before that it slips inside me with no resistance. We both let out involuntary moans as I’m filled with him.

“Fuck, your pussy is so tight.” He gasps.

His cock is long enough that I whimper when it is fully sheathed. He looks to pleased at that, so I lean forward and let his cock fall out. He growls in frustration as I thrust my clit on him.

“If you want me to put it back in, you’re going to have to beg.”

“You’re sadistic.”

“You seem to like it quite a bit.” I look down at his cock to drive my point.

“Fine. Please ride my cock?”

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that.”

“(Y/n), please ride my fucking cock, I feel like im going to burst.”

“Yes, John.” I slide him back inside and roll my hips. His hands find their way to my waist and I start to bounce on him. He feels incredible inside me, and I start to ride harder. I want his fucking come inside me.

My hands find their way around his neck, beginning to cut off blood flow. His eyes roll back, and suddenly he’s lifting me up with his hands so that his hips can do all the work. He pounds so hard that he is hitting what feels like the very end of me. I clench around him, wanting it to never fucking end.

“Harder.” He groans, and I oblige, clenching down around his throat.

His face begins to turn color and I start to wonder if I’ve gone too far when he lets out a long, animalistic groan and I feel him twitching inside me. His pleasure goes on longer than I thought possible, and the load inside me must be huge. When he’s finished, I lay forward, letting him remain inside me. We are both spent, our panting breaths nearly in tandem as I lay bare on top of him in the forest.

I place a kiss on his jaw, close to his ear and whisper. “Well, that was fun.”

He cranes his neck to look down on me, his brows furrowed slightly. “Where are you going now?”

I realize I have no idea. I’ve never been without my sister before. So I shrug.

“I’m taking you with me.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #john murphy #oneshot #the 100 #john murphy the 100 #the things i do to survive #john murphy x reader #murphy the 100 #smut #sub john murphy #playful smut #playful John murphy #��🦪#🪳

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heartybubs · 10 months

Text

jealousy jealousy

the 100 [ john murphy x reader ]

type: ig angst but it’s not well written enough to ‘hit’

tropes: jealousy, roommates, unspoken but accepted love, best friends to lovers

warnings: violence ( knife fight ), mentions of murder

in which wells jaha is getting help by the only person willing to be around him, who just so happens to john murphy’s unofficial girlfriend, who then has to deal with his idiotic jealousy.

a/n: hii, i’m back! this is based on a request i really really liked but i’m not happy with what i actually wrote so i hope it’s okay to read. i kinda ignored how much of a psychopath murphy was in the first season cause i really couldn’t have justified his actions otherwise and the whole jealousy part wouldn’t have been entertaining AT ALL. so yea, i was struggling a bit ( whilst also blatantly ignoring the timeline, ignore anything that doesn’t match the canon timeline of s1 pls ), but at least i tried right🫣 no pronouns

w.c.: 2040

yours and murphy's relationship was a rather unclear, but at the same time simple one. you weren't officially dating, but during your time on the ark, when you were locked up in your shared cell, where you also met, you definitely did some inappropriate stuff; stuff that friends don't do.

your cell was also the place where the two of you bonded, becoming really really close rather quickly. although he was a very aggressive and irritating person to be around at first, you got used to it and soon he became your favourite person to be around.

now, after months of being roommates and part time lovers, you were finally on the ground, something you'd dreamed of since you first learned about it and therefore were keen on securing your survival. murphy on the other hand, got so bad that even you couldn't deny the fact he was a total asshole and if you didn't know he would never hurt you, you'd be way too scared to share a tent with him, especially alone.

you didn't actively distance yourself but after watching him bully wells, the chancellor's son, countless times for his father's actions, you kind of naturally looked for ways to make some new friends. and as if the universe hated john murphy, you seemed to work really well with wells.

everytime murphy saw you talk or walk around with wells, which honestly happened quite a lot, it fueled his hatred against home even more and made him want to stay away from you too.

you didn't mind not being associated with the provocative behaviour of john murphy and the way he tyrannized the other delinquents, however, it was a very different story when it came to going to bed and waiting for him until you physically couldn't keep your eyes open any longer, leading to you and him barely ever meeting and getting a chance to talk, despite sharing a tent.

yes, murphy was an asshole, that was totally not up for debate, BUT he was also the cell mate you had for the past few months; one who you loved deeply.

you were sitting by the dropship, wells next to you, watching your hands closely.

"see, it's really important that you wrap everything tightly, like super tight, since you don't want your arrow to fall apart in the air, alright?", you explained and made sure he understood. you were teaching him how to make an arrow from scratch and although you weren't an earth skills expert, you definitely knew more than wells, who didn't get the chance to attend earth skills class back on the ark. and you could probably count the people who at least tolerated wells on one hand, you included.

"okay and, sorry", he paused, scrunching his nose and forehead as he stared at the arrow-to-be in front of him, "how do i make sure the tip is sharp and everything? i just don't get it, sorry. i don't wanna waste your time y/n.”

you smiled, appreciating his consideration, but clearly declining his indirect offer for you to do something else. there wasn't anything else for you to do and he also wasn't wasting your time, he was just learning and you really liked teaching him; it helped you understand better as well.

"wells, c'mon. i'm choosing to be here, you didn't force me and i don't think it would be okay to produce less arrows, that literally get us food, just cause i'm bored of you", you said, smiling at him, "not.. not that i am bored of you, but you know what i mean!"

he grinned before nodding. honestly, there wasn't anything wrong with wells at all and you truly didn't understand how your fellow delinquents could treat him they way they did. especially murphy.

speaking of the devil, murphy was brutally staring at you and oh boy was he jealous.

he didn’t want to approach you, as he was lowkey trying to avoid starting anything right in front of you, let alone with you. he wasn’t blind and therefore noticed how much more distant you and him were ever since arriving on earth so he was trying to avoid any additional conflicts between you.

when you looked up, your eyes meeting his for a quick moment, leading to you sending a small smile his way, he almost forgot about all his anger and jealousy towards wells. that was until you looked back at the boy in front of you and started smiling hard at the almost perfect arrow he had just put together.

murphy was gonna make wells pay, hard. he just had to catch him away from you, something that was way harder to arrange than he’d like it to be.

“don’t you see you can’t control this?!”, wells voice echoed through the woods as you nervously made your way back. you were wandering around outside of camp, always keeping close to the dropship as you knew you could get los easily. the initial reason you decided to turn around was the cheering delinquents and something inside of you just had you thinking that murphy must have had something to do with it.

“wait”, you heard bellamy yell, making the noise die down for a moment. it calmed your nerves as you were standing at the back of the group, trying to be as tall as possible to see what was going on. “fair fight”, bellamy said before you could hear something metallic fall to the ground.

anxiety increasing again, you tried to push yourself through the delinquents that were proudly chanting for murder meanwhile you had to pray for a miracle; one that ensured that murphy wasn’t part of this.

“this is for my father”, you could make out murphy’s voice fairly quickly right as you were able to watch him attack wells with a knife. a gasp escaped your throat when wells defended himself with ease, pushing murphy to the ground and holding a knife to his throat.

“stop it! are you insane?!”, your feet were moving before you could think about your actions, bringing you right where wells and murphy were standing.

wells dropped his hand. murphy looked at you with fear and regret. he didn’t regret attacking wells, but he didn’t want you to see him like this. however, one had to admit that he hadn’t been trying very hard.

“y/n..”

“no, shut up john. i am so beyond done with your shit. yours too!”, you pointed a finger at bellamy who just rolled his eyes at your tone.

“if this is who you want to be, fine. go ahead and be a dickhead, john. you disgust me”, you mumbled angry words right into his face before storming off.

despite it being really challenging, you decided to ignore murphy for now. you couldn’t believe that he would do something as reckless as getting into a knife fight with wells! of course wells wasn’t innocent either, but it was clear who the aggressor must have been, even without having been there the entire time.

it was kind of embarrassing that you couldn’t even deny the high possible of john murphy, the boy you had lowkey caught feelings for, murdering an innocent boy for fun.

truly messed up, making murphy more and more deserving of the silent treatment you were giving him. at first he had stayed away from you until you didn’t even come to the tent at night, secretly having had asked a girl named harper to stay in hers.

so when you kept ignoring murphy the day after the incident, it angered him so much that he immediately stormed into your tent when he watched you enter it from afar.

“what the fuck y/n”, he said, his voice laced with irritation as he stared at you. his blue eyes piercing yours.

despite being intimidated, you stayed stubborn and didn’t give him any attention. he hadn’t deserved it yet.

“oh i see, you’re ignoring me? are you being serious? for what, scaring the chancellor’s son a bit? you know damn well i wouldn’t have done anything”, he said, rolling his eyes and waited for a reaction. this time you looked at him critically before ignoring him again.

“wait, you do know that, right?”, murphy’s voice softened a bit. he moved so that he could observe not only your body language, but also your eyes. this made you lower your gaze.

soon after, you felt two hands touching your skin. they were cold but the touch was warm, hot even. murphy moved your face so that you were looking at him and he immediately noticed your worried expression. he instantly understood that you actually didn’t know that he wasn’t a cold hearted killer.

“y/n, i wouldn’t have killed him, i swear. yes, i harmed him and i did that on purpose, i’ll be fully honest here, but i was just angry at him”, he explained himself calmly now.

you removed his hands from your face before getting up from the bed you had previously sat on. “what do you mean angry, john? what did wells do to you? you’ve been treating him like absolute shit, are you kidding me, i don’t get it”, you said. you wanted to yell at him but you also tried to hold onto the tiniest bit of privacy you had behind the ‘walls’ of your tent.

murphy slightly rolled his eyes and shook his head, then sat down on the bed and took off his shoes.

he is trying to escape the conversation!

it annoyed you that he had the audacity to ignore your question after everything he had done up until this point.

“what is WRONG with you, john. talk to me already!”, this time, he basically had you begging. again, unbelievable.

he tried to let as much time pass as possible before linking his hands, putting his arms behind his head and looking up. he sighed and licked his lips, trying to find the right words. “i was.. kinda jealous.”

you couldn’t help but stare at him and ultimately break out in laughter. this was absolutely pathetic.

“you were gonna kill someone out of jealousy? are you INSANE MURPHY?!”, you didn’t even try to keep your voice down, he deserved this.

“y/n, i know that it was wrong alright. but i already told you that i wouldn’t have killed him”, murphy was annoyed and you could clearly hear it in his voice. he however, could clearly see that you weren’t just going to let him disrespect you like that. he sighed again.

“do you want me to apologize?”, he asked quietly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. murphy moved his head so that he could look at you and when a slight grin appeared on your face, he let himself fall back into the sleeping bag.

of course you’d want him to apologize.

“yea, to wells”, you said, ruining his mood entirely.

“WHAT?! you gotta be insane. do you know how embarass”, your expression made him halt in the middle of the sentence, the stubbornness you radiated even caused him to groan. “okay.” you truly had him wrapped around your finger.

“good, john”, you said and walked over to him. “y’know what, this is an amazing sign for you to be better in general because from what i’ve noticed, you’ve been pure hell for most people in this camp”, you admitted, knowing he wouldn’t be mad at you for your honesty.

this, once again, caused murphy to roll his eyes at you. he shook his head slightly, not wanting to talk about his own behaviour anymore, he held one arm out to you, inviting you into the bed with him.

you hesitated for a short second, but quickly got down next to him.

“ugh come here”, murphy said and pulled you into his side.

sharing a bed or cuddling wasn’t a new thing to you two, but it made your heart jump, in a very very good way, everytime it happened.

you repositioned your head until you found a position comfortable enough to stay in and took a long breathe in.

after a moment of silence you began giggling.

“so, jealous huh?”

#the 100 one shot #the 100 #the 100 angst #john murphy x reader #john murphy #murphy x reader #wells jaha #bellamy blake

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hd-junglebook · 2 months

Text

The Other Side

Part 1 - Word Count 2463

Crouched on her tree branch overlook, Y/N watched curiously as the group of five approached the cliff's edge. She was intrigued by these strangers, the first new people she had encountered since witnessing the ship crash.

The boy with long hair moved to grab the rope swing first but was interrupted by another wearing steampunk-looking goggles.

After a brief exchange, the long-haired boy moved back, now standing next to a pretty blonde girl. The four of them exchanged weary glances, silently communicating after they switched places.

The goggled boy backed up several paces, then sprinted forward with a leap, launching himself from the cliff. He swung out in a wide arc, whooping excitedly. At the apex of the swing, he released the rope and landed gracefully on the far ledge.

The group stood in silence watching before they erupted in shouts at the Mount Weather sign. She sat for a moment watching the pure joy of these strangers, hesitating, debating whether to reveal herself. Her curiosity was piqued, but she knew little of their motives or intentions.

The commander sent her down here to gather information with Lincoln, both splitting up as he stayed by their camp, performing a headcount.

Y/N was impressed by his bold daring. She studied the other four strangers, wondering about their origins. They appeared around her age, and wore weird clothing, the material all cobbled together. Perhaps they had banded together after some other disaster or tragedy.

Lexa wouldn’t like any of this, dread filled y/n and she reminded herself that they weren’t going to live long after she traveled back to the capital.

Lexa was stuck in the old ways, never straying from harsh and outdated rules placed by their grounder society. Not that Lexa could change anything, if she allowed these invaders to live, her people would see her as weak, and she couldn’t have that.

Y/N couldn't help but smile as she observed the scene from her hidden vantage point among the trees despite her thoughts.

In that fleeting moment, with their guard down, she saw only vibrant youth, not strangers to fear. She remained hidden for now, but hoped someday their paths might properly cross if fate worked in their favor.

But their happiness was short-lived, shattered by the sudden violence that erupted as a spear was hurled at the unsuspecting boy. His friends' screams pierced the air, echoing with terror. She quickly sprang into action, leaping down from the tree with a soft thump.

Her horse, sensing the distress, whinnied softly as she approached, offering a comforting presence in the midst of chaos. With a swift pat on his flank, both of them set off back to civilization.

With a final glance back at the scene unfolding behind her, Y/N urged her horse forward, their hooves pounding against the forest floor as they disappeared into the safety of the woods, leaving the invaders and their violence behind.

…

“Lincoln?” y/n called out, searching the brush for any sign of her friend. “Lincoln it’s me.” She continued, cupping her hands around her mouth.

There was no reply except for the sound of rustling leaves and the echo of his name. She sighed, weighing her options briefly before heading back to her horse, weaving through the twisted trunks and stomping over the bed of fallen leaves and twigs.

The sound of crunching filled the open space, quickly she grabbed her bow, notching an arrow before scanning the tree line again. Lincolns burly figure melted out from behind a massive oak, his face paint smeared haphazardly across his face from the sweat and heat.

“Lincoln!” she breathed out gratefully, loosening her grip on the bow before stepping forward to greet him. Lincoln stood before her, his calm gaze surveying her from beneath the hooded cloak draped over his shoulders. “I was starting to think you forgot I was coming.”

The barest hint of a smile played across the grounder’s lips. "I am well-versed in the ways of these woods.

It is you who makes noise like a stampeding gorilla." y/n rolled her eyes good naturedly at his teasing. “"Well? What did you see? Anything we should be concerned about?"

Lincoln's expression turned serious once more as he relayed his findings. “I counted about 100 of them. A blonde girl she’s their leader.”

After their discussion, Riss gave him a nod farewell. "I should get back before the Commander sends out a search party for me too." With that, she turned and headed back through the shadowy forest, leaving Lincoln to fade back into his camouflaged surroundings like a ghost.

Y/n strolled through the bustling streets of the capital, the cobblestones echoed with the rhythm of her determined steps.

Street vendors peddled their wares, their voices blending into a vibrant cacophony of commerce. The scent of sizzling street food tantalized her senses as she navigated her way through the throngs of people.

Approaching the imposing structure of the commander's building, she felt a surge of anticipation mingled with a hint of apprehension. "State your business," one of the guards demanded, his tone gruff.

She met his gaze with steely determination, her hand resting casually on the hilt of her hidden sword. "I seek an audience with the commander. It's a matter of utmost urgency."

The guards stationed at the entrance scrutinized her with suspicion until she presented the emblem of her authority.

The guard exchanged a wary glance with his companion before nodding reluctantly. "Very well, you may proceed."

With a satisfied smirk playing on her lips, she passed through the threshold and into the hallowed halls beyond, her gaze fixed on her objective: the commander's hall.

Her steps seemed to melt into the background noise of the bustling corridors, her presence almost unnoticed amidst the chatter. With purposeful strides, she approached the ornate door, its imposing frame a gateway to power and intrigue.

With a soft creak, the door swung open, and she stepped into the chamber, greeted by a gentle breeze that whispered through the open terrace door, ruffling her hair. "Commander," she greeted, her voice carrying respect.

Lexa, seated at the head of the room, smiled warmly, her gaze flickering with recognition. With a graceful gesture, she dismissed her companions, who filed out of the room one by one, leaving the two women alone to discuss matters of consequence.

"Ah, it's good to see you," she began, rising gracefully from her chair. The room seemed to hold its breath as she approached Lexa, her steps deliberate and purposeful.

"What brings you back so early?" Her voice was calm, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity.

As Y/N spoke, she couldn't help but notice the subtle tension that crept into the lines of Lexa's face. A furrow appeared between her brows, a silent question hanging in the air. Y/N pressed on, her own resolve mirrored in the unwavering gaze she held with Lexa.

"I spoke with Lincoln," she declared, her voice steady, each word carefully chosen. Lexa leaned forward, her expression a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

The silence stretched, broken only by the soft sound of Y/N's footsteps as she paced the room, the click of her boots echoing the rapid beat of her racing mind.

As she spoke of her findings, the space between them seemed to shrink, the distance bridged by shared secrets and unspoken truths. The dance of words and emotions played out in the quiet expanse of the room, a delicate balance of power and vulnerability.

Once she finished her account, Lexa rose from her seat. Y/N observed the subtle shift in her body language, noting the resolute set of her jaw and the firmness of her posture.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Lexa said. "We must deal with these invaders if we are to protect our city from chaos."

…

Y/N rode on horseback through the lush, green woods, the earthy scent of pine filled her nostrils, mingling with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers.

The sunlight filtered through the forest canopy above, casting a warm, golden glow upon the trail as she journeyed down familiar paths - passing by small villages nestled amongst the trees.

She couldn't help but smile as she passed by, exchanging friendly nods with the villagers who went about their daily tasks. Y/n had been away from home for some time and was eager to return.

The steady clop of hooves marked the miles melting away as the trees thinned. She spotted her modest log cabin in the distance, its weathered exterior a welcoming sight against the backdrop of the forest.

Reaching the edge of the property, y/n hopped down from her steed, her boots sinking into the soft earth beneath her feet. With a gentle pat on her horse's neck, she released him to graze freely, knowing he would find his way back to the stable when he was ready.

Y/N took a moment to close her eyes and breathe deeply, cherishing the scent of pine and wildflowers. It was good to be back. She hitched up her pack and strode towards the front door, the familiar scent of aged wood enveloped her, a comforting embrace that welcomed her home.

Setting her pack aside, she moved with purpose to the corner where her woodworking bench stood. With practiced hands, she began to carve arrows, the rhythmic scrape of the blade against wood echoing in the cozy confines of the cabin.

the moonlight filtering through the canopy above cast eerie shadows on the forest floor. The night was still. Heading out into the night to gather firewood had become a routine for Y/N, a solitary task that allowed her moments of quiet reflection amidst the whispering trees. Tonight, however, a feeling that prickled at the back of her neck as she navigated the winding path.

y/n began to gather the fallen branches, a sudden sound shattered the silence. The unmistakable sound of running feet echoed through the trees, sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. Instinctively, she dropped the firewood and reached for the dagger she always kept strapped to her side.

Moving cautiously towards the source of the noise, Y/N's senses heightened, every rustle and snap of a twig magnified in the stillness of the night.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she approached a clearing, the moonlight revealing a figure hunched over, gasping for breath against a gnarled tree trunk.

Drawing closer, Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the figure of a boy, his face contorted in pain and exhaustion. His clothes were torn and dirt-streaked, his hands clutching at the rough bark for support.

"Who are you?" Y/N's voice cut through the night, a mixture of concern and caution lacing her words. The boy looked up, his eyes wide with fear and desperation, a silent plea for help etched in his gaze.

Her body subtly leaned forward, indicating her readiness to assist if needed, while her hands hovered near her sides, poised to react to any sudden movements.

The moonlight bathed them in its silvery glow, Y/N and the mysterious boy stood facing each other in the heart of the forest, the boy steadied himself, before sucking in a breath and speaking.

"I could ask you the same thing.” He replied, the boy's voice was deep and raspy, his words were slow and deliberate, as if he was rehearsing a speech.

Their gaze locked in a silent standoff, a sudden eruption of yells in the trig language pierced the stillness of the woods. Y/N huffed, a hint of sarcasm coloring her tone. "Those your friends?" she quipped, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. John shook his head.

Undeterred, Y/N pressed on, her voice firm yet tinged with intrigue, the trees towered above her, their branches creaking ominously in the gentle breeze.

"Who are you?" she asked, her curiosity driving her forward. The rustling leaves and distant echoes of the forest seemed to hold their breath, waiting for John's response.

After a moment of hesitation, John relented. "My name is John," he admitted. His voice was calm now, yet his eyes were a little wild. He looked like the man who had been on the verge of being killed, his head bowed in prayer.

"I can help you, John," she said, Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine as she looked into John's eyes. They were deep and piercing, like two black holes that seemed to suck her in. She couldn't look away, even though she knew she should.

John hesitated, unsure if he could trust her. But the thought of surviving in this harsh new world was too tempting to resist. "Okay," he said, his eyes darting between y/n and the area where the voices came from.

"I'll follow you." He approached her cautiously, keeping a safe distance. Y/n nodded, a look of satisfaction on her face. "Good," she said. "Let’s go."

…

Y/N and Murphy made their way back to her cabin, the shadows of the forest casting long, eerie shapes on the path ahead. "I need you to help me gather resources," she said.

"Food, water, weapons. Whatever I need to keep me alive. And in return, I will keep you safe from my people." She stated, looking back at Murphy as she climbed the steps to her door.

John nodded, his heart racing but he knew he had no choice. "Yes," he said, his voice firm. "I'll do it. Whatever it takes." Y/n could tell he wasn’t sure about his own agreement but kept walking anyway, opening the rusty door and entering.

Murphy hesitated at the threshold, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily, a flicker of fear betraying his tough exterior.

Y/N chuckled softly, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Come on, it's not a trap," she reassured him, her voice warm and inviting. Murphy stepped inside, the cozy interior of the cabin enveloping him in a sense of unexpected comfort.

The aroma of cooking rabbit wafted through the air, a tantalizing scent that stirred memories of simpler times with her family. Y/N moved with practiced ease around the small kitchen, spooning steaming stew into an old wooden bowl before handing it to Murphy.

He accepted the bowl gratefully, the hunger evident in the way he practically inhaled the hearty meal. Y/N watched him silently, her gaze lingering on his worn appearance and the shadows that clouded his eyes.

"What happened to you, John?" she asked, her voice soft yet probing. The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications.

Murphy paused, setting down the bowl with a nonchalant shrug. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you.” he replied through gritted teeth. “Let's just say I've had better days."

…

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pogueswrld · 1 year

Note

Could you please do “ I want you to feel good” with John Murphy? I love your imagines! 😍

this was deep in my asks and it's half-assed I'm so sorry

*•.¸♡ drunk ♡¸.•*

pairing: john murphy x fem!reader

summary: murphy is drunk on his lover, and he's not afraid to show her

warning: smut!!! 🦢 pussy drunk john giving reader head basically, and some praise ig

note: this is super super short I'm sorry :/

“Fuck!”

y/n was sure that if John didn’t have his arms wrapped around her hips and thighs, she would have flown away by now.

His hold on her was tight, with his hands intertwined just above her belly button. His face was buried in her cunt, nose nudging at her clit and tongue lapping up her juices. He could almost swear he was in heaven. Every time he looked up at her and saw her face, her expression only amplified that belief.

He was far too good for her to remain silent, and he was unstoppable. Pulling one orgasm after the other from her like they were ribbons coming out of a magician’s hat. He had her squirming and whimpering, but he never let her go. He was drunk on her taste and feel, he never wanted to let her go.

“Johnny,” she whimpered, her fingers buried in his strands, tugging at his roots every time his tongue penetrated her and fucked her without rhythm. “I’m gonna cum again.”

Her words were mere gasps, and it made a smug smirk pull at his lips. “Oh I know you are, angel. I can feel you.” She whined at his words, and the noise made his eyes roll to the back of his head.

There was something so pure about seeing the person you love more than anything enjoy themselves, but to know that you’re the one giving them pleasure? Murphy was certain he was going to cum in his pants.

With a brand new sense of need and desperation, Murphy put all his energy into pulling that one more orgasm from his lover. Using his fingers to stimulate her while overwhelming her clit into overdrive, y/n was squealing his name within minutes. She gushed and clenched around his fingers, and John pulled away just enough to see her. His pupils dilated and his mind was completely blown.

He looked up at her, watching the way her chest was rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch her breath, then spread little kisses throughout her inner thighs. “You look so pretty, baby. I’m so proud of you, you did so well for me.”

#john murphy smut #john murphy #john murphy x reader #john murphy the 100 #john murphy imagine #the 100

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strawberryforks · 4 months

Text

new to this whole fanfiction thing and these are the characters i know i would enjoy writing about! send scenarios you’d like me to write and i will happily do so! that being said, happy new years! <33 red highlights are my favourite characters (feel free to psychoanalyse me based on my type in fictional men baha)

the vampire diaries — damon salvatore, stefan salvatore, klaus mikaelson, rebekah mikaelson

outerbanks — jj maybank, john b routledge, rafe cameron (regrettably), pope heyward

marvel — peter parker, bucky barnes

dc — jason todd, gar (beast boy from netflix’s titans)

station 19 — jack gibson, victoria hughes

grey’s anatomy — derek shepherd, mark sloan, jackson avery

macgyver — angus “mac” macgyver

the 100 — bellamy blake, john murphy, raven reyes

the hunger games — finnick odair, peeta mellark, even the primreaper if you ask really nicely

call of duty — simon “ghost” riley, john “soap” mactaviah, kyle “gaz” garrick

stranger things — steve harrington

one tree hill — peyton sawyer, lucas scott, nathan scott

supernatural — sam winchester, dean winchester, castiel

my life with the walter boys — alex walter, cole walter, issac garcia

misc. — chat noir (mlb) draco malfoy (harry potter), harry potter (explanatory), dash (dash & lily), carl gallagher (shameless), lip gallagher (shameless), marcus baker (ginny & georgia), gilbert blythe (anne with an “e”), killian jones (once upon a time)

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sickoherd · 1 year

Text

THE 100 — only you can…

fluff

summary: preferences for characters of the 100 :)

author note: i took a mini hiatus … sorry <3

bellamy :

- play with his hair

- convince him to not go on dangerous missions

- get him to take a break

murphy :

- call him john

- make him genuinely happy

- hear about his past + his regrets

monty :

- make him feel better after jasper's death

- make him blush

- tease him

jasper :

- help with his depression

- hear stories about maya ( sorry )

- get him to dance with you

lincoln :

- help him hunt or forage ; he likes being able to concentrate but he likes listening to you

- do his warpaint

- steal his clothes

roan :

- stand up to his mother without being executed

- wear his crown

- sit on his throne

wells :

- joke about his father with him

- kiss his nose

- calling him funny nicknames to wind him up

octavia :

- braid her hair

- influence her decisions

- bring out her soft side

raven :

- get her to take a break

- help her feel more confident about her leg

- do her ponytails

clarke :

- tell her what to do

- call her princess

- make her smile and laugh

lexa :

- do her war paint

- call her lex

- make her smile

emori :

- steal her stuff

- trace her tattoo

- convince her not to do something

echo :

- use her bow and arrows

- comfort her

- make her laugh

harper :

- flirt with her shamelessly

- make her believe anything

- scare her with ghost stories

#the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #john murphy x reader #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #john murphy #octavia blake #octavia blake x reader #monty green #monty green x reader #clarke griffin #clarke griffin x reader #lexa kom trikru #commander lexa #lexa kom trikru x reader

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inmyownlaine · 1 year

Text

John Murphy x Reader: Enemies to Lovers Trope

Warnings: Weapons, threatening death

Word Count: 2075

Part: 1

Summary: After taking cover in the underground bunker, you find yourself trapped with your sworn enemy. As time trails on, you realize the two of you will have to stay there till the coast is clear. The worst part? There’s only ONE bed 😮🤯

──────────────────────────────────────────────────

He hated you. More than anything or anyone. In fact, if he were given the option to be pushed off a cliff or spend time with you, he would jump on his own accord and do a backflip on the way down.

And you couldn’t stand to be around him. You would rather spend your time eating soggy bread, walking in wet socks, or ripping band-aids off your bare skin. Anything was better, more preferable, than seeing his face.

If the two of you weren’t spitting insults at each other with vitriol and pure malice, you were physically harming one another. There was nothing amiable about the shoulder check he delivered on a daily basis. Likewise, your perfectly placed foot was not in jest. Especially when he would trip over it and go tumbling to the ground.

It got to the point where you couldn’t walk alone. He would grab you by the arm and slam you against walls, knife to throat, as he chuckled menacingly in your ear. “You know how easy it would be for me to kill you?” he would always ask.

And he couldn’t sit with his back to you, or else he’d find the barrel of a gun nudging his temple, and you with an itchy trigger finger. You’d deliver a smug little smile, pushing it further and further into his head. “And just like that, all my problems would suddenly go away,” you would always comment.

Yet, neither of you actually did anything. It was the sheer adrenaline, the barbaric action, the thrill of it all, that led you to behave so irresponsibly. The bruises and cuts and words would not stand in your way. No amount of concerned teenagers or useless pep talks would interfere. Nothing.

Being this wicked was a lonely road. You felt like a great white approaching a school of herrings. Wherever you went, there was an immediate scatter. Active avoidance upon sight was recommended. But you were the best shot, bar none. It was the only reason anyone allowed you to have a gun.

Or tag along on their excursions.

In front of them, of course. So everyone could clearly see exactly what you were doing. The wave of terror you caused was oddly devine. You didn’t live to torture others, or to be feared by the masses, but it was such a wonderful feeling to have some sense of power. So you sashayed with pride, lips puckered in a confident pout, leading them steadfast through the unknown forest.

The chatter behind didn’t phase you in the slightest. They were probably gossiping about their childish crushes or bantering with inside jokes. Neither of which concerned you or piqued interest.

That’s when the most grating, most vexatious voice muttered in a not-so-low tone, “Such an easy target.”

There was no hesitation. The gun was already in your hands as you spun around, aiming it directly at him. Everyone gasped, ducking for cover.

Except for him. He encroached your perimeter, arms tightly crossed against his chest, practically begging to be sprayed with bullets. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That’s cute.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you warned him.

“Or what?”

You sneered. “I’ll finally grant you your wish. A chance to see your father again.”

He laughed aloud, minimizing the distance with every arrogant step he took. With a final act of provocation, he willingly placed his forehead on the muzzle. With both his hands in the air, mocking surrender, he glowered at you through slacked eyelids. “Then do it.”

A foghorn rang out across the woods. You removed the gun from his head and pointed it into the trees. An outbreak of panic coursed through the unit as they frantically asked what to do. Some didn’t wait for a response.

Half of the unit bolted towards the dropship. The other half formed a circle, guns outwards and ready for open fire. It became clear that you weren’t going to be battling someone, but rather, something.

It started as a mist in the faraway trees, consuming the trunks with thick smoke. Then it started to grow in every way, wider and higher, before all that seemed to lay before you was a rain cloud. One that made your skin itch, made your throat close. It was then you knew you had only a single option.

“Run!” you screamed, taking off after the others.

He was right beside you, matching step for step. It had been a while since death brushed your lips, leaving a poisonous sting, invigorating your will to survive. So much so, that the idea of tripping him (for old times sake!), tickled at your brain.

“What is that?” he yelled out, elbow covering his nose and mouth. He didn’t offer any indication, but you saw it, too. A silver wheel was bolted atop a thick metal hatch. You didn't have time to wonder about the specifics. Nor did you have the time to grimace when your hands accidentally touched; first when spinning the wheel, and second upon opening the hatch, revealing a ladder into dark descent.

“Go!” he urged you. You didn’t think twice, stepping onto the ladder and hurrying down, rung by rung. The hatch slammed shut, followed by labored grunts as he tightened it back to its original state and then some. With the abrupt overtake of darkness and the narrow pathway, you felt extremely claustrophobic.

He continued down the ladder as you froze, catching up to you in a matter of mere seconds. He stomped haphazardly, boots barely missing the tips of your fingers.

“Don’t step on me,” you warned him.

“I’ll do what I want.”

Knowing full well that he would love nothing more than to squish you beneath his weight, you pressed on till your foot met the dirt floor. It was pitch black as you fumbled around in the darkness, feeling around for any type of lantern, flashlight, or match box. He trampled behind you, presumably following suit.

“What could be worse than this?” he mumbled.

“Um, what?” you scoffed.

“Wasn’t for you to hear.”

“Cool. So you wanna climb back up the ladder and take your chances out there?” For the first time ever, he didn’t have anything to say. You took that as a victory, further twisting the knife. “That’s what I thought. Shut up.”

Ten minutes had passed and no progress was made. From what you felt, however, you could tell there was a wooden desk with a chair, a broken lamp and a dining table set. Whoever created this doomsday bunker obviously made it to be their home. You couldn’t imagine living your entire life underground, fearful of the dangers above. You stopped short when you realized you had done the exact opposite; lived your life above, fearful of the dangers below.

“This is no use,” you finally said.

“You really didn’t find anything?” his voice spouted back.

“And you did?”

There was a loud plop, followed by numerous rustles and the quiet zing of a zipper. It dawned on you that he was digging around in his backpack and the insides of your stomach burned. If you had been searching for a light this entire time, and he willingly allowed you to make an ass of yourself, it was over for him.

“I swear, if you pull out a flashlight-”

But his face illuminated with the glow of an LED light, revealing his arrogant expression. “What?”

You couldn’t even begin to convey how livid you were. Your fingers balled up into tight fists, and you had half a mind to swing on him. He pointed the light in your direction, blinding you before chuckling.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” With that he pressed on, exploring the rest that this space had to offer. You didn’t want to figure out anything more. All you wanted was the fog to pass so you could leave this hellhole.

However, you didn’t know how long that would take. Hours? Days? The thought of being with him that long made your head ache. So instead, you flopped back on the hard mattress, staring up at the low ceiling.

“What are you doing?” he questioned.

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like,” he started, “you think you’re taking the bed tonight.”

“Not really a thought. I’m here and I’m on it,” you said.

“Comfortable, are you? Not worried I’ll kill you in your sleep?” he asked.

You simply shrugged. “Who says I won’t get you first?”

The banter had gone on long enough. His face flushed as he approached you, looming over your body with his disturbing presence. You tried to act like you weren’t scared. Yet the thought of him actually hurting you wouldn’t escape your mind. If he really wanted to end it all tonight, he could.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” he informed you.

“Well neither am I.”

“Don’t make me do this.” You gritted your teeth. Your gun was too far away from you. This would have to be a grappling game, one that you would surely lose. Especially if he kept his knife tucked into his pocket.

“If you’re not going to sleep on the floor, and I’m not going to sleep on the floor-” He stopped abruptly and just looked at you. You looked back, not understanding what he meant.

“Scoot over,” he finally said.

“Ew, no!” you exclaimed.

“Do you have a better idea?” he snapped. “You want to kill each other over a sleeping spot or you want to make it out tomorrow?”

The answer was obvious. You huffed and wriggled to the far end of the bed, nose brushing the metal wall in an effort to distance yourself as much as possible. With your arms crossed and eyes clamped, you imagined this wasn’t happening as you felt his side sag under his weight. He repositioned himself multiple times, frustrating you further, but finally made a decision and laid down quietly.

What would they say? What would you tell them? This was beyond humiliating, it was mortifying. To be laid up next to a person you openly abhorred was not good for your reputation. You had to make sure he knew the boundary and that it would never be crossed.

“You tell no one.”

“I’d say the same thing,” he replied, “but you don’t have any friends to tell.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

──────────────────────────────────────────────────

You awoke to a void. It took a second to remember where you were, rubbing your eyes furiously to try to adjust. There was a foghorn, some eerie clouds, an abandoned bunker- oh!- and your absolute worst nightmare sleeping beside you. It all came rushing back and you found yourself grimacing, hoping that you would be able to leave soon.

You pulled the blanket closer to your chin, itchy wool scratching the bare skin on your arms. That had always been your least favorite texture, which was a great parallel to the current situation, where you were trapped with your least favorite person. Of course, every single item and event and circumstance had to be undesirable.

The knotted threads at the end of the blanket were tangled, so you took it upon yourself to separate them out. All the while you reflected, yet again, on your predicament. Your fingers worked tediously, preferring to sort out these problems than address your own.

With one knot being completely relenting, you found yourself thinking how it wasn’t this tangled when you fell asleep. In fact, you didn’t recall having a blanket at all…

Your eyes widened as you slowly rolled over, just enough so you could look over your shoulder. It was too dark to see. Your hand reached to Murphy’s side, touching him lightly. You felt the same scratchy wool instead of his leather jacket. It became apparent that his back was to you, but closer than it previously was. And the blanket you despised so much was covering you both.

You didn’t know what this meant. No one had ever been kind to you before. You weren’t the least bit surprised. All you caused was chaos and misery. No one owed you anything. Murphy, least of all. Yet he took care of you, tended to a single want instead of treating you like a monster. Like you were nothing less than human.

“Thank you,” you whispered into the shadows. He didn’t respond. And for once, you found yourself wishing that he would.

──────────────────────────────────────────────────

MAJOR shout for the TikTok, I saw it and couldn’t stop thinking about it. Created by the100babe, captioned: read flags looking green. Can’t disagree 🥴🥵

Xx Lainey

#john murphy #writing #love #the 100 #john murphy fanfic #john murphy x reader #John Murphy angst #John Murphy fic #John Murphy imagine #the 100 fanfic #the 100 imagine #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 fluff #the 100 x reader #the 100 love

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fanfics4all · 7 months

Text

Wax Play

Request: Yes / No Kinktober day 7!

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

John Murphy x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1926

Warnings: SMUT!

Y/N: Your Name

Prompt(s): Wax Play

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

“Baby?” I hesitantly asked.

“Are you here?” I added as I made my way into the apartment. I quickly became disappointed when there was no answer. He didn’t come… I sighed and thought about going to get a bottle of wine. I tossed my keys to the side and went to go turn on the lights. A hand wrapped around my wrist, tugging hard until I lost my balance. I fell into a warm solid body. A moment later a I was moving again, disoriented in the dark, until I felt my back touch the wall and the body pressed tightly into me. My hands were trapped behind me, both of them being held by one fist. The person’s head dropped down and sharp teeth nipped at my earlobe.

“Hello, Kitten.” His voice whispered.

“Hey, baby…” I breathed out. He stilled and pushed into me a bit harder.

“What was that?” He asked, an edge to his tone.

“Hello, Sir.” I corrected myself.

“That better, Kitten.” He said. His mouth trailed down from my ear to my neck, placing soft kisses against my skin. I tilted my head to the side to give him better access and sighed happily. I hardly noticed when he brought my hands to my front. I did notice when he locked some cuffs around my wrists, a short chain between them which meant I could still move, but not much.

“I love that you said to put the coat hooks here, so helpful for hanging up our jackets and… other things.” He smirked. He lifted my arms above my head and hooked them just over my head, my elbows bent and dangling on either side of my temples. He then kissed me, his mouth slicked over mine, tongue invading as his hands got to work on the buttons of my shirt. He slid his hands around my ribs. They travelled up to cup my breasts, thumb flicking over my nipples through my bra. There were little electrical pulses being sent through my body. I was frustrated that I couldn’t touch him too, so I nipped at the tip of his tongue. He jerked back and grined down at me evilly.

“Are you sure you want to go down that road, Kitten?” He asked. ‘Sorry Sir’ drifted through my mind for a moment, but instead I raised an eyebrow at him and tugged on my restraints. His grin widened.

“You want it that bad, Kitten? Too bad. We’re going at my pace, and I want to inspect what’s mine.” He paused and looked me up and down.

“Speaking of inspections, were you a good girl?” He asked.

“Yes, Sir.” I answered.

“Let’s see, shall we?” He asked. He stepped back a bit and then his hands on my hips turned me around. It was awkward with my hands locked above me, but I managed. He reached around and popped open the button of my jeans. He tugged the zipper down incredibly slow. He ran his fingers beneath the gap between my waistband and my skin before slipping my jeans over my hips. He helped me out of them, but left my heels on. His hands ran back up my legs to my ass. I wasn’t wearing underwear, just as he instructed me this morning.

“Hmmm…” He hummed. His hands kneaded and squeezed my ass.

“Oh good girl, Kitten.” He said. His fingers wiggled the jewlled plug I put in, just as he asked this morning.

“How has it felt wearing this all day, knowing no one else knew about it, but me, hmm, Kitten?” He teased.

“G-Good, Sir.” I answered.

“Did it make you wet?” He asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. He slid his fingers forward until they could feel just how soaked I was.

“Fuck, Kitten.” He moaned slightly. I mewed and arched my back, hoping he might slide his fingers inside and ease the ache. My clit was pulsing and twitching, but he didn’t touch either. He went back to the plug, fingers grasping it lightly.

“You like feeling this inside you?” He asked.

“Yes, Sir. But-”

“But what?” He cut me off.

“But I-I would like it out now please, Sir?” I asked.

“Would you?” He asked, starting to pull, slowly increasing the pressure. I winced and widened my stance, using my muscles to help him until it slid free. I hissed, feeling my asshole contract, throbbing slightly. At least it was out now… My relief was short lived.

“No Kitten, I don’t think so, not yet.” He said. The metal plug was hot from my body when it nudged at my asshole again. I umpleasently moaned and went to step away, but I couldn’t go anywhere. A sharp slap on my ass stopped me in my tracks.

“Stay still!” He ordered. I grit my teeth, but held still as he pressed forward until the plug slid inside once again. He then eased it out again, and in, and out, and in… I whined in protest, but it hardly hurt anymore.

“Let’s just leave this in for right now, shall we Kitten?” He asked with a smirk. He pressed on the plug one last time, my ass accepted it easily.

“Come on, then.” He reached up and unhooked me. He lowered my arms until they rested in front of me, still locked together. I’d only been hooked up for a few minutes, but my shoulders and upper arms were feeling sore. He curled a finger around the chain and turned me around, tugging me forward. I followed him clumsily as he flicked on the light in our room. I blinked, trying to adjust to the light. There were restraints casually resting along the bed, a wand, and a blindfold.

I tried not to smile, but this was amazing. He led me to the bed and took a moment to uncoff on hand so he could take off my shirt and bra. He pushed my hands back above my head and used one of the restraints to secure them to the headboard. Restraints went around both my ankles and tied them to the bottom of the bed. My legs were spread wide open and he had full access. He picked up the blindfold and covered my eyes.

“Green?” He asked.

“Green, Sir.” I whispered back. He secured the blindfold against my head. I felt a firm hand on the inside of my thigh before it was replaced with a cool hardness of the wand. It dug into me slightly as John tied it to my thigh with another restraint. He adjusted it, making sure it was tight up against my clit, then started it.

I flexed at the low buzz, but he barely turned it on. It was more of a tickling sensation, nothing that would get me off. I pouted, but kept my complaints to myself. A warm hand started roaming over my body, up the inside of my legs, down the curve of my waist, and around the curve of my breasts. A hand found it’s way around my throat, squeezing once gently before coming up to cup my cheek. He roughly kissed my lips and it took my breath away. He pulled back and I longed for his hand to be back on my neck. I wondered where he was going to touch me next.

Instead he turned the wand up a few levels. My breath hitched from the abrupt change. My thighs flexed, wanted to close, but I couldn’t. A cold touch ran upp the arch of my foot. I jerked my foot, but couldn’t move it much. Another touch, but this time along the inside of my upper arm. It was cold and wet. Ice…

I wasn’t sure if I enjoyed it or not. It made my muscles twitch and jerk, and with the wand turned up almost as high as it would go, my body was ridgid. I wanted to cum so bad.

“Don’t you dare, Kitten. Not without permission.” He said.

“Can I cum, Sir?” I asked instently.

“No.” He answered just as fast.

I gave a frustrated groan, pulling at my restraints. I pictured him holding the ice cube as he glided it over my warm skin. I was panting, trying to guess where he would glide it next. I cried out when he circled my nipple instead of running it up my inner thigh.

“Please can I cum, Sir?” I begged.

“No.” He answered.

“Please?” I begged more. He didn’t answer, just turned the vibrator up higher.

I yelped and arched my back, pressing my head into the softness of the sheets. Ice ran down my left sife, along my upper arm. It moved across my collar bones down my forehead, and along the bridge of my nose. The streaks of cold were bringing goosebumps all over my body.

Suddenly there was a soft drop onto my stomach. I though it was a drop of water from the ice cube, until my brain registered the scorching heat. Candle wax… I gasped and my stomach muscles tensed, but I was almost immediately distracted by the ice going down my left cheek. Another burn met my left breast and the ice traveled up to the center of my palm. Heat scorched my pubic mound and chills ran up my right foot. A drop of burning wax found it’s way to the inside of my knee. The want was demanding my attention each time I tensted.

“Please! Please, please, please, Sir, please can I cum, please?” I begged.

“Cum.” He ordered me as three drops of hot wax met my skin. One on my hip, my stomach, and directly on my nipple. I screamed as an oragsm ripped through me at the same time the hot pain radiated across my skin. He stopped the wand and pulled it away along with my other restraints. He pushed himself between my lets and pressed the ice cube to my clit. He was holding it there as he thrusted in and out. I was incredibly sensitive from cumming and fought against him. He held me still as he pressed the ice cube harder against me.

I throbbed at the cold ache mixed with the pleasure of his cock dragging over my g-spot. My arms were still trapped above my head. I could do nothing but take it. My clit pulsed in overstimulation, but unable to escape the ice. My eyes widened under the blindfold as I realized I was going to cum again.

“Cumming!” I gasped, unable to form a full sentence. John let go of my leg and ripped the blindfold off of me, still holding the ice cube in place.

“Cum.” He ordered and kissed me. John groaned into my mouth and I felt him filling me up.

“Oh fuck!” He groaned as he pulled back. John drop on me and I felt grounded by his weight. After a moment he got off me and letme out of the cuffs. He pulled me into his chest and pealed off the bits of dried wax.

“You alright, Y/N?” He asked.

“Mmhmm.” I hummed.

“We’ll get up and shower in a minute, okay?” He asked.

“Mmm.” I hummed.

“Words baby, yes? No?” He asked.

“Mmm.” I hummed again, I couldn’t really do much.

“I take it you like it then? Since I’ve rendered you speechless?” He asked. I nodded as I was half asleep. John kissed my head and held me close.

“Just relax a bit then we’ll shower.” He whispered and I nodded.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @emo-godess-loves-you @now-imagine @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @vanessa-kom-skaikru @jjmymaybank

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notelcol · 4 months

Text

In which John Murphy steps out of his comfort zone.

Trigger warning : blood, reference to violence.

No one asked for this one but it’s here anyway and vaguely edited 😈

(It came out a little longer than intended, I got ever so slightly carried away…)

When Murphy came back from the grounder prison camp, despite him being the bully of all the delinquents, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. What did Bellamy expect after exiling his once second in command? We should have seen this coming. The grounders would have been fools not to take Murphy for all the information he had. Blood was smeared all over him. You couldn’t tell where it was originating he had that many wounds. The image of his torture made you shudder. Even his fingernails had been ripped from his fingers. You looked away. Forgetting all the times you had needed to confront him to protect others, you made a choice.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked Clarke, the only person with medical experience.

“You can find someone to go with you to the path that leads to Mount Weather.” She said with a sigh. “The poison sumac there would be really helpful.” The tired blonde uttered her thanks, while you left to find Octavia. She would most certainly accompany you.

Murphy watched through one eye, since his other was tightly inflamed. He could not fathom why you would be willing to risk your life leaving camp, simply to acquire a calming herb to ease his plight. Especially because the last time you saw each other, you were fighting him to save a child. A child who murdered the chancellors son, and got him hung to within an inch of his own life. Murphy hated you for that, so why didn’t you? The child you were trying to save did die because of him after all. He was a black and white sort of man. One who never understood forgiveness. A person would come to blows once and that’s it, they are dead to him. He always stood by those very rules. Until you, who only fought him in the name of peace. Which is why risking yourself to help someone who truly needs it, came natural to you. Even if it meant giving a second chance to someone like Murphy.

Unfortunately none of the hundred felt the same way as you. After failing to find Octavia, you begun asking around camp for someone to go with you. When that also failed miserably, you decided to grab a gun and head out alone.

The expedition went as well as you could have hoped. You did not feel the many eyes of the forest on you for once. In fact, it was so calm outside of camp that it almost spooked you. You decided to grab extra of the plant while you were there, to save Clark and Fin a job. Finally, your bag was full and it was time to turn back. You realised that you were a little bit out of breath after a few steps. You must have been picking the flowers for longer than you thought.

The walk back to camp felt much more tiring, so your feet began to drag. You could feel the sweat dripping all over your body, particularly annoying you around your top lip. Huffing, you removed your coat and wiped away the sweat from your face with it. You moved to tie it around your waist, only to be hit by a wavering buzz. It sent your whole body spinning. You watched your coat drop to the floor and finally noticed the blood. All that blood, covering most of the garment. You were so dazed that you didn’t even notice you had fallen.

“Get. Up.” You growled to yourself. Sputtering thick crimson, you clawed at the mud. This must be biological warfare. Your symptoms too similar to Murphy’s to be a coincidence. This revelation only cemented your determination to get this poison sumac back to camp. If you had caught it, then others must have too. Your mind went round in loops while your arms refused to rest. Until you inevitably exhausted yourself and dropped your head to the forest floor.

Murphy was finally starting to feel better. The countless patients in the drop ship could not say the same. As he gave water to a quiet girl named Fox, the fabric around the drop ship door ruffled loudly. Miller came rushing in with you slumped in his arms, blood and dirt covered you to the point where you were almost unrecognisable. He watched as you were dropped into a hammock. A strange feeling, one he could not identify, filled his chest as your bag spilled open revealing the many poison sumac flowers you had brought back.

You awoke to the feeling of something cold and wet on your forehead. You groaned at the heaviness in your lungs, which only caused the blood to gurgle and spurt from your mouth. As you choked, your eyes shot open to be faced by Murphy. His eyes almost went as wide as your own as he quickly removed the cold cloth from your head and pushed you onto your side. Your breath shook in relief. Instantly oxygen came easier, and the blood drained away.

“Rest.” He spoke in a softer tone than you thought was even possible from Murphy. Of their own accord, your eyes fell closed once more. The blood was wiped from your face in a manner that felt more like caress, helping you drift away peacefully to your dreams.

For the first time in his life, Murphy had entered his personal grey area. Your undeserved kindness showed him the world through a lens other than his own rage and paranoia. He decided then and there that he would take care of you until you recovered. Allowing himself to believe it was getting even, when really it was something else entirely. It was simply another thing he had yet to understand.

#fluff #x reader #john murphy #the 100 #cw the 100 #the 100 x reader #grounders #angst with a happy ending #light angst #genshin fluff #john murphy x reader #hurt/comfort #caretaker #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #scifi #fanfic #writing

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maysileeewrites · 6 months

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a helping hand - John Murphy x Reader || teaser

AN: this is just a teaser, I’ll link the full imagine (that will be set during 1x10) here once I’ll upload it. I know that people probably won’t care about Murphy x reader in 2023, but please lmk what you think, it would really mean a lot!! 🤍

„Can you even see anything like that?“, Murphy says, interrupting your thought process, and suddenly he’s reaching out with one hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallow, trying desperately not to show how much that one little touch affected you. But your heart is thundering so loudly in your chest that you’re convinced that he’s able to hear it.

Especially once you can no longer pretend to re-inspect the cuts on his face yet again - you really need to take a look at the wounds on his chest.

As if reading your thoughts, Murphy just smirks, before taking off his shirt. Just when’s almost free of his shirt, he hisses, his face screwing up in pain.

„Let me“, you say, helping him.

For a moment, you just stare at each other breathlessly.

Then, so quietly that you’re not quite sure whether you’ve imagined it, he says: „Thank you.“

#john murphy x reader #john murphy #john mother fucking murphy #john murphy imagine #john murphy x you #john murphy the 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 #the 100 tv #richard harmon #maysileewrites

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leftingbadly · 3 months

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to be loved. | john murphy

a reassurance of an old demon, unhealed wounds that resurface and those that battle with them.

pairing: John murphy x ofc

She was nestled deep into the comforting warm of the couch, the background noise of an old vinyl set played softly in the distance to a tune that made her forget, somehow momentarily, somehow gracefully, of all that she and her friends had been through.

Her skin felt soft to the touch in a way she couldn’t remember feeling it before, a hot shower and soap held a wonder of magic she had naively taken for granted back on the arc. The thought of the big metal ship floating in space involuntarily had her quickening her breathing, she thought of her time spent with her mother and father, those horrible moments she had had to endure when she wasn’t studying in the classrooms for the future career she would be placed in, she thought about her friends in the gardens, where she had spent the better half of her time learning about the plants and their uses, best of all was the time she spent on the ground after she had stepped off that drop ship for the first time, the sharp smell of fresh oxygen that never felt like it was stolen, the sound of life without the pollution of any machine hum.

“You’re doing it again,” Her attention was caught by the boy that entered the room, damp hair clinging to his face as he vigorously tried to dry the wetness that still clung to him from his shower, “You look like a goat, staring off into the distance like that.”

“Words every girl is desperate to hear, Murphy.” She opened the blanket that rested on her as an invitation for him and he took it, resting his body on hers as he settled between her legs. She took the small hand-towel from him and passed it through his hair while he littered soft kisses onto her neck as if he were whispering secrets.

Moments passed like this as he kissed her skin and she ran her fingers across his cheek, his jaw and then to the scar on his neck, her fingers stopped when she felt his body go rigid and his kisses ceased. He sighed then, and got up from his position on her body, the cold abandonment of warmth that left her with his retreat did little in comparison to the look in his eyes.

“Murphy-“

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never want to talk about it!”

She sat up on the couch, facing his tense form as he stood as far from her as he could.

“Because there’s nothing to fucking talk about, what do you want me to say? I’m sorry that I have this fucking ugly mark on my neck? I’m sorry that I survived, that every day you have to look at me and see a murderer? The fact that I murdered a little girl, huh, is that what you want to fucking talk about?”

“That’s not fair, you know I didn’t mean that, Murphy.”

“Then what the fuck do you want from me?” He screamed the last part; as if it was a question he had asked himself a hundred times over without any solution. As if he failed to understand why someone like her would want anything to do with someone like him and that, despite everything, he was still too selfish a person to push her away.

“I want you trust me!” That wasn’t what he expected. “I want you to know that you can trust me, I want you to talk to me about it because- because I want you to know that it isn’t just you against the world anymore, okay? It isn’t just you. I- I want you to know that as much as you have me, I’ve got you. That every time you wake up at night, and you reach for your throat and you breathe so deeply like you’re trying to inhale all the air around you, that you can turn to me and ask me to hold you. What happened with Charlotte…” She never missed the way his knuckles tightened,” What happened with her was terrible, but it wasn’t your fault she jumped from that cliff, John Murphy. That’s something you seem so damn set on forgetting.” She wished he’d open his eyes and see the truth in hers. “I want you…” She heaved the weight from her chest and put it into the words she so desperately wanted him to hear, “I want you to know that you’re loved. More than anything I want you to know that.”

She must’ve missed how close he’d gotten through her blurry eyes, but the hand on her cheek left nothing to be doubted as he held her face in his hands and wiped her tears and through clearer eyes she noticed the blurriness of his, he was crying too. And he was staring at her in a way that made her heart form a hole inside her chest, she’d never seen him look at her like that before, or maybe he had but she’d never seen it, either way, it left her breathless.

He was shaking his head at her, as if he was trying to tell her he wasn’t worth the tears she spent over him, or the pain she so obviously felt trying to get him to just see how much he meant to her.

He didn’t know what to do, or what to tell her that would make her understand that, okay, I heard you, and I love you too. So he brought her face closer, and he placed a singular, soft kiss onto her forehead. It meant; I love you. It also meant, I trust you, wholly, and completely.

She pulled away first, and she stared into his eyes to ground herself, to bring her back to the reality that he was standing in front of her, and they were standing in the living room of long abandoned home, and that he was holding her so tenderly she felt that she might shatter if he said he loved her out loud.

She grabbed his head and pulled him closer still, and she whispered, “I want you to know that the world had more to give you than the pain you have suffered.” And she gifted him one, sweet, tender kiss to the marks on his neck, and he exhaled so greatly as if he was relieving the pain again, “And I want you to believe that when you receive love, you are worthy of it.”, but this time when he opened his eyes it was her staring back at him, and there was so much love in it that he couldn’t help but believe her.

#John murphy #the 100 #John murphy x reader #John murphy x ofc #John murphy fanfiction #John murphy imagine #fluff #tv show #bbc #authors #tv series #Bellamy blake #the100edit #John murphy drabble #clarke griffin #John murphy the 100

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