footsteps
masterlist
pairing: matt murdock x f!reader
summary: your undeniable chemistry, the perfect night. it's been a long time coming, and finally, matthew murdock is in your apartment.
warnings: NO SHE HULK SPOILERS but def inspired, matt murdock's filthy mouth, matt murdock's cocky personality, smut, p in v (unprotected), oral (f receiving), someone say size kink???
a/n: credits to @buckypascal for making gifs of the scene. also, new post format?! lastly, tagging @mattmurdockspainkink and @chronicoverachiever for being there on that night and screaming about this entire episode with me đđ love you two LOTS đđ
You donât waste any time getting into the apartment. Not even to fumble for your keys. They go straight in to turn the lock, and then they're yanked out. Thrown somewhere. Anywhere.
Nothing else matters now but him. All this time; every path, every decision, every bit of banter exchanged between the two of you has come down to this moment. Youâve known Matt for a very long time, but tonight⊠tonight feels more than familiar. Even if youâre in brand new territory.Â
The thick material of his suit grabs at your fingertips, tactile panels and armour-infused fabric gliding underneath your palms, clinging to the sweat thatâs started to form. But you canât think about that. You canât think about being nervous, not when his mouth is on yours and his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, begging for entry. Right now, you shouldnât be thinking of anything else. And rightfully so, you canât.
Matt leans into the kiss, deepening it as a gloved hand comes up to cup your jaw, allowing for the tiniest of whimpers to slip past your lips. He stumbles, taken aback slightly at the way youâre kissing him, with a tenacity⊠a ferociousness he hasnât yet experienced with you. Youâre insistent, and it shows. It shows as you anchor your hand to the small of his back, nevermind that itâs all Kevlar youâre feeling and not his skin.
Oh God, his skin. The urge to see it, to touch it, to savour it, is staggering. Even though the night's only beginning, youâre impatient, and he knows it.Â
Itâs a good thing heâs impatient too.
âYouâve got too many clothes⊠uhâ too much suitââ you mumble, breaking away but still maintaining your distance. Or lack thereof.
Matt chuckles against your cheek, and it sounds like a promise. âThereâs a zip at the back, sweetheart.â
He pulls you forward again to nip at the column of your throat, and then to leave a mark at the base of your neck, soothing the spot only with a flicker of his tongue. You can feel him straining against you now, and heâs shifting his hips, trying to get his bulge to settle where it wants to between your legs.Â
Heâs antsy, and you get it. You understand. Itâs not as if the two of you have been tiptoeing around each other for months, juggling a delicate balance of flirting and friendship and whatever the fuck else youâd describe your dynamic as.
But here you are.
Here you are.
You will yourself to pull it together as you kick your shoes off, Matt doing the same. He sets himself back upright promptly to remove his gloves, and then his helmet. Youâre a little surprised at how haphazardly he tosses it onto the couch â a perfect throw, of course â considering that the suit is new and his helmet⊠well, his helmet cements his moniker, right? Andâ
Oh, enough about the helmet already.Â
His hair is ruffled, chesnut brown going a little orange when it catches in the yellow apartment light. He throws a billy club at the switch on your wall, muttering something about, âwho needs a light, anyway?âÂ
Heâs handsome, and all heâs doing is standing there, his stance a little wide, and the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You donât need to tell him how he makes you feel; he knows it so acutely itâs as if heâs cracked open a window to your innermost desires. You suck your cheeks in, feeling heat rise to your face as you approach him. Your expression goes dark and you think you have to stop in your tracks, if only to squeeze your legs together, but your body overrides that sensation. It tells you to keep going, to disregard the second heartbeat that's manifested, so you do, fingers fumbling for the strap on the back of Mattâs neck that conceals the zip.
Itâs an almost wordless exchange except for whatâs whispered under your breaths; the âis this okay?âs and âyesâes that flow so easily. He reassures you as you struggle with his suit, telling you âitâsâ the zipâs right thereâ and âcâmon sweetheart, you got itâ. And you do, in fact, got it, because now youâre tugging it down his back, exposing every inch of his delicious self to the ether and beyond. Â
The zip goes down to his tailbone, and the second it has no more give, youâre pushing the suit off his shoulders, coaxing the material down and off. Down and off. Youâll admire him later. Thereâs something else in the way first.
When you get to his waist, you repeat your newfound mantra. Down and off. Down and off. You donât care that his abs look carved from marble, like a statue handcrafted by Michelangelo himself, or that his cock â holy fuck, his cock â is almost staring you in the face â the suit goes over his ass, down his thighs, and he kicks it off, stepping on the pant legs to get the last of the fabric off his ankles.Â
Now, you can look at him. And look you do.
âYou know I can tell that youâre eye-fucking me, right?â he grins, lifting his arms away from his body slightly, palms turned to face you. Heâs caught in an almost-shrug.Â
You wave his words off to run your gaze up and down his frame, starting with his broad shoulders, the scars flecking his torso, and the tiniest trail of hair from his navel to beyond his boxers. His abs contract a little with every intake of breath, flexing and rippling as if they have a mind of their own. Your eyes continue to glaze over his body, working methodically from head to toe, focusing on a different part of him each time. You can barely recognise the quiver in your own breathing when youâre done.
âBedroom,â you command, taking one of his hands in yours, squeezing it tightly as you lead him away.
He answers with a smile.
Then, as you approach the threshold of your door, of the very place youâve thought about having him over and over and over again, his hand slides up to tighten at your wrist. He spins you towards him, backing you up until youâre against the wall. He pins you in place, and then his lips meet yours. This time itâs intimate, and not just because of whatâs about to happen. Itâs intimate for all the right reasons, for all the times heâs made you laugh, or listened to you grumble about the stressors of the world. Itâs for every time heâs come to you, battered and bruised, close to broken, and every time youâve nursed him back to sanity. To health. Matthew Murdock was â is â your one-in-a-million.Â
Your one-in-a-million groans as he nips at your pulse, using his knee to knock your legs apart. Youâre lost now with both hands tangled in his hair, while his begin to roam over your breasts before settling on your hips. Matt moves his thigh in between your legs, and presses it upwards where he hears you throb. You bear down on the hard muscle, a steady stream of moans accompanying the arching of your back. Thatâs the gratification youâve been seeking, the pleasure he knows you deserve. And that he can give.Â
âThere you go,â he purrs, waiting for your arms to go slack so he can slip the straps of your dress off your shoulders. That moment comes easily as he grinds his thigh into your pussy harder. You wonder if he can feel the growing, damp spot in your panties â his sharp exhale tells you everything you need to hear.Â
He reaches behind you to unhook your bra with an ease that surprises you, and then everything else follows: your dress, your panties, his boxer briefs â theyâre nothing more than meaningless clothes, troublesome barriers, as they fall to the floor into one clumsy pile.Â
And, for a moment, as the two of you step inside the bedroom, you linger there, arms wrapped around his waist as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Heâs inhaling your scent, committing you to memory, as if nothing else â nothing â will ever come close to this. To you. Heâs warm under your touch, and although his muscles are rock solid, heâs soft. Heâs always had a gentle quality about him, and itâs become more apparent with every subsequent layer removed, physical and mental.
Matt braces his hands on your hips, squeezing ever-so-lightly to hold you there. Right now, he towers over you, still emanating that faint devil energy that always becomes more prominent with the suit, but you know youâre safe. Itâs safe with him, and it always has been. He tilts his chin downwards, feeling your breath fan across his face.
He chuckles softly, and the sound makes your body erupt into goosebumps. It doesnât help your case, but he drags his fingertips up your arms, touch featherlight and leaving you wanting more. He says your name, and it rolls off his tongue.
When he says it, it sounds like it was made for him.
He whispers your name again as he kicks the bedroom door shut, scooping you up to lay you out on the bed.
. . .
Moments later, there he is, forearms bracketing your face, mouth on your body, mapping every contour and curve you have to offer. Heâs hungry for you, leaving wet kisses on your collarbones, moving further down to play with your breasts. He latches himself onto your nipple, sucking and circling with his tongue, grinding himself into your mattress in rhythm to your moans. Youâre positive the dampness pooling between your thighs is trickling down them now. And thatâs all thanks to him. Matthew.Â
Your Matthew.Â
He continues down your stomach, marking you as he pleases. Youâre looking at him through your eyelashes, one hand curled tightly in his hair, trying to control your breathing, but itâs difficult. That coil in your stomach, the one thatâs been loaded since the first time you laid eyes on Matthew Murdock⊠itâs reaching breaking point. And you need to let go.Â
For a moment Mattâs expression is pained, but it shifts back to focus as he nears your pussy, licking his lips to affirm the scent of your arousal sitting heavy in the air. You realise his expression is one of discomfort, but only because he wants you. He doesnât know how much control he has over his own body. He wants to drag this out, to have you until the night gives way to the morning sun, but he needs you, more than heâs needed anything else in his life. So, there isnât much pretense as he slides his palms under your ass and lifts your pussy to his face.Â
God, his tongue feels like heaven.Â
He licks a broad stripe up your centre, tasting you for all you are, before moving to your clit, drawing tight circles with the tip of his tongue. Still, Matt needs more. Somehow, this isnât enough. It feels as if heâs waited his entire goddamn life for this, and if thatâs how long eternity feels like, then heâs going to take advantage of every moment, of every chance to study your body and burn your pleasure into the fabric of his brain. Tasting you like this isnât enough, so he flexes his arms, and he tightens his core, and rolls you with him until heâs lying on his back.
Matt Murdock eating your pussy is one thing, but Matt Murdock eating your pussy as youâre sitting on his face?
âFuckâ fuck, Matt, just like that,â you gasp, one hand outstretched towards your headboard, the other wound in his hair.Â
He says something, but itâs muffled against your cunt, and it only makes you clench harder. With the way heâs lapping at you, and then the way his tongue begins to stretch you out, you realise youâre going to implode very, very soon.Â
He lifts you off his mouth, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards. âNow, angel, would you like to cum for me now? Or do you want my cock?â
Maybe it's the way your banter works, but the retort flies from your lips faster than intended. âDo you really have to ask?â
His mood switches in an instant, and it should scare you â but it stirs up something wicked inside. Itâs as if Matt can read your mind, or pick at this new unravelling thread, because he flattens his tongue against you again, as if somethingâs changed in your arousal.
âI was being nice,â he growls, and something like taunting flashes across his face. Heâs testing the waters a little. Maybe heâs trying to figure out exactly how you like to take it.
âYeah?â you respond, smugness lining your tone. You shuffle downwards to where heâs holding up his cock, having stroked it once⊠twice, just to show off his impressive size.Â
There it is again, that taunting.
Well, lucky for him, heâs not the only hellraiser this side of town.
You have him buried to the hilt in one agonisingly smooth motion, squeezing your thighs at his sides as his cock nudges against the spot that edges your vision in white.
He hisses as string after string of curses tumble from his lips, as suddenly he's enveloped in your warmth and your wetness, unable to think and almost unable to move. He has his hands on your waist, gripping so tightly you think it'll bruise, arms and abs flexing as he fights every urge within himself to cum inside you without giving you what you deserve.
He's pretty when he moans, and it's not just the blissed out expression on his face as you begin to move. His sounds are rich, and a little husky, laced with the kind of desperation you didn't think he could possess. You start to roll your hips, planting your palms on his broad chest as he lets you guide him into oblivion. Every drag of his cock along your walls sets your nerves alight, and he makes you feel so full you think you might burst.
He pleads your name. He begs you to go faster.
"What do you want, Matthew?" you drawl, lifting your hips up to bounce on his length, to writhe on top of him the way you realise he loves.
He's desperate, yet the authority in his voice remains. "Want you to cum for me, angel."
Your nose scrunches as you fuck yourself on him, breathing coming out in heavy pants as he hits that spot over and over and over again. His mouth curves into a devilish chuckle as you explode on his cock, fingernails digging into his skin as you pulsate and flood around him.
He takes this opportunity to reclaim his dominance, to flip you onto your back, pushing you into the sheets as he drives himself into you. His hips snap against yours ruthlessly as his forearms cradle your head and his mouth meets yours. The intimacy prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, and clearly you still have a couple good thoughts left in you, because Matt's got a weakness for this.
He breaks away from the kiss to tip his head back and groan, allowing you to pull him in deeper. Sweat blooms across his hairline as he lowers his weight on your body, nuzzling his face into your neck, breathing you in and holding you so damn close. His rhythm never falters, but his strokes change, especially as he uses his hands to push your legs back as far as they'll go.
And, as if what he's doing isn't good enough, he wrestles one hand free to rub your clit.
Oh, holy shit. If this is how you die, so be it. So fucking be it.
"Matty," you whimper, interlacing your fingers behind his neck, pulling him in to kiss you again.
"Yeah, angel," he rasps, and his lips are back on yours. They're soft, and yielding, and flawlessly moulded to you.
"Matty," you whisper, and you take him over the edge with you.
. . .
In the afterglow, with the ghost of a kiss lingering faintly on your lips, you turn to him. He punctuates your question with a sentence of his own.
"When am I going to see you again?"
"Come to New York with me."
You think of the invisible footsteps right outside your bedroom door; the ones an eternity in the making. You think of how it'd be to leave your own in his apartment, to leave him with what he's given you.
It scares you a little, because your life is here. Away from New York.
It scares you because your answer is overwhelmingly easy.
From the tentative smile on Matt's face, and the blush spreading across his cheeks, you know it's the right one.
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lakeside dreamin'
masterlist
pairing: jedi general anakin skywalker x f!reader
summary: anakin reminisces about your lives together while he's away fighting in the clone wars
warnings: heavy angst, mentions of canon events in TCW, canon typical mentions of warfare, some smut/spice, mentions of sex, minors DNI 18+ only
a/n: to the one anon who requested this maybe a year ago? i saw clone wars anakin and it was over for my brain đ« anyway love you guys and leave a comment or reblog if you liked this! đ„ș
song pairing: love on the brain (rihanna)
The war was taking its toll.
Day after day, planet after planet, all Anakin knew now was his place on the battlefield. And his role in leading the victory for the Jedi and the Republic, even though their dogma preached peace, not violence. Every skirmish brought a new kind of horror to his once uncomplicated life, whether it was watching Separatist droids and clone troopers alike, cut down as easily as marsh reeds, or the simple fact that his relationship with the Force was dwindling towards something impure. Something he couldnât make sense of, and would surely raise more questions than answers if he were to confide in his Masters. It wasnât that he contemplated reaching towards the Dark side, or thought of the kind of evil only the Sith could endure; it was more like an isolating numbness that spread from within, and before long, Anakin felt the cloud settle over his mind.
He was tired of seeing smoke â the kind that billowed in every direction, stinking of despair and lost hope on his front, despite the war turning to the Republicâs favour. It was the sound of unending blaster fire and the repetitive ignition of his lightsaber that haunted his nightmares, and with only the company of his clone legion, his Padawan Ahsoka and the occasional appearance from Obi-Wan, he felt himself starting to slip.
He was overwhelmed, and encumbered with burden.Â
Never before had he experienced such guilt, anger and suffering â towards his army, towards the civilians caught in the crossfire, and towards his relationship with you.Â
The secret life the two of you led, away from the Order, felt like something out of another galaxy, another lifetime. It was as if eons had passed since heâd last seen you, and yet the world was constantly evolving â not towards freedom, but into a more destructive version of its past. Even for a Jedi General (and, one could argue, because he was a Jedi General), Anakin had little comfort, and much less sway in which systems he visited and what he took part in. Seeing you was absolutely out of the question, but it wasnât like he bothered to even ask, out of fear of inviting a lecture from Obi-Wan, or Maker-forbid, an audience with Master Yoda.Â
At least things like facilitating training for the Onderon rebels allowed him to feel more of himself, and to an extent, a sort of unity with the Council, but all of that was quickly replaced by the more sinister side of the Separatist Alliance, such as the trainwreck on Zygerria. Liberation didnât exist there. Not until Anakin showed up.
It was these events that really compelled him to look inwards, to not just seek the Forceâs guidance, but to use it in tandem with a coping mechanism that would get him through the war.Â
And so the vignettes began. Slowly, at first.Â
It started off as little glimpses of your life together, slices of euphoric nostalgia that weaved their way into Anakinâs being. He didnât realise just how much he yearned for you; not simply the way your skin felt on his, but the pureness of your energy, the reminder that good truly did exist in this world. As much as these images were a solace to his sanity, they brought about a sense of malaise. Contrition, actually, if he sought the Force for the purpose of clarity. Even though it all existed in his head, allowing himself these indulgences felt like once again, he was breaking Code.Â
But could it really have been that bad, if it honed his focus? If it drew him back to the bigger picture, of the why? Reminding himself of who it was he fought for didnât erase the atrocities, but it gave him that flicker of hope, knowing that the sum of his actions equalled a better world for you.Â
And some selfish, miniscule part of him figured that if he could lead the victory, heâd be pardoned when the Order inevitably found out about the life the two of you shared. It isnât as if no-one already knew. He was sure Ahsoka was aware. Rex, too. He doubted when it came to Obi-Wan, but then again very little got past his Master.Â
While the memories of you lay fresh before his eyes, they seemed to sharpen at specific points throughout the day; often in the thick of battle, or when he woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat, nothing but thin shafts of moonlight illuminating his body. Itâs like they were stitched perfectly amongst the real action, scattered at perfect intervals that jerked his body into manoeuvre.
The sweetest images had always featured the lake.Â
Armed with nothing more but his wits, his back pressed against the cold, wet stone in a cave on Vanqor, he reminisced about that first night with you by the lakeside. The sweet smell of wildflowers carried in the breeze, heightened by his affinity for the Force. He recalled the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore, and how the two moons cast their milky glow upon the shimmering surface of the water. And you â radiant, almost ethereal in the soft light, and the way your lips brushed against his neck, filling him with the kind of heat that flooded all at once. Not even the screech of the pursuing gundark could have interrupted this moment in time. He felt his breathing go ragged, because he remembered what happened next. He gritted his teeth, thinking about the way he moved inside you, and how you tangled your fingers in his hair, pressing chaste kisses to his mouth, his chest, whispering his name in sinful bliss. The gundark didnât stand a chance. Not when Anakinâs motivation for getting out alive laid in sweet promise, embedded in these visions.
His name felt the most natural rolling off your tongue, nevermind that that was truly the last real thing he possessed, unmarred by time and the influence of the Jedi. In that moment, when youâd taken him over the edge with you, crying his name so loud he swore someone had heard, he knew heâd give it over to you if youâd asked.
He thought of the lake again when he was in Felucia, crouched low amongst the sillum. His lightsaber grew heavy in his hand, the ridges suddenly awkward in his palm, but the grip heâd started to lose on his lifeline gave rise to something he couldnât ignore.Â
It was another temperate day and the sun had created the most brilliant reflections on the surface of the lake. With the grasses and trees swaying in the wind, Anakin closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force. He didnât prod or poke, but rather he cast a wide net, a delicate caress, to connect with the life that teemed. It sang to him in a multi-layered harmony, acting as a prominent reminder that the Force flowed in all living things. And when his eyes fluttered open, he watched you carefully as you walked towards the water, your feet crunching on the smooth pebbles that made up the beach. You turned around to give him a dazzling smile, moving with deliberation to slip off your clothes. Your laughter echoed in the crisp air as you dived into the lake, disappearing under a swathe of emerald green, only to resurface in the middle with a large grin plastered to your face. He didnât hesitate to jump in, to shed his clothing on the spot. A shudder ran down his spine at the thought of what happened shortly after.Â
Sometimes it was hard to return to the present, to remember that heâd sleep alone that night while you were only just waking up, systems away, most likely after another fitful slumber. There were times where he thought these visions would serve no other purpose than to derail him, when the temptation of your touch shadowed his desire for victory. These moments guided him to channel the Force within, so as to remind himself of why he was doing this in the first place. Because it was more than just a coping mechanism. It was an anchor. A thrumming pulse point. A gentle acknowledgement of the life he wanted to come back to.
Itâs then that he wondered when enough would be enough, when the war would come to a stalemate, as it so often did in their history. The tide was turning, and he knew it.
And there it was again, that kernel of hope, that ember of light that shone in the depths of his soul. Even reduced to a ghost in his memory, you were tangible, so tangible now. He wouldnât let the Separatists win. He couldnât, because there was too much at stake. And so if thinking of you, in these ways, helped him remember that, he wasnât going to stop.Â
Not for anyone.Â
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all up in smoke
masterlist
pairing: frank castle x f!reader
summary: based on the prompt: 'sit on my lap and let's smoke a joint'
warnings: alcohol, weed (rolling a joint, smoking, shotgunning), frank being a cute little whore, heavy petting/teasing but no sex, high epiphanies (mostly fluff!)
a/n: happy late birthday to the ever lovely @chelseasdagger , this one is for you babeyyyyy đ
Home is a solace on your lips as you step inside, your keys joining the others in the bowl by the front door. Despite the events of your day, still fresh in your mind, you feel the knotted tension in your body begin to dissipate, the pressure easing in your temples. The few lights that have been left on are dimmed, filling the house with the kind of ambient coziness youâve been longing for all day.Â
You round the corner, and there he is on the couch: feet kicked up on the coffee table, immersed in a hardcover book you swore heâd never touch. A pang of emotion stirs in your stomach â a cross between yearning and consolation; something you just canât place, but are grateful for nevertheless.Â
âHi, Frankie,â you smile, drawing the curtains open, letting the cool night air filter into the living room.Â
He lifts an eyebrow, glancing up at you from behind the book. âHey, sweetheart. Long day?â
You stretch your arms over your head, nevermind that his voice stirs something in you, and set your bag up on the kitchen counter. âMmhm. Glad to be home.â
Frank leans forwards, fingers closing around the drink heâs left on the coffee table. His eyes flick to yours as he takes a sip, caring not to break contact, before jerking his chin at the bottle of scotch next to your bag. âYou want some of that?â
He points at you, clicking his tongue as you move to pick the bottle up. âDonât move. Stay right there.â Setting his book aside, the pages splayed face-down onto the table, he makes his way over, utterly impervious to your flurried attempts in getting him to remain where he is.
âDâya really think Iâd let you pour your own drink?â Frank says, looking affronted, but a furtive smile spreads along his face as you shake your head.
âCâmon, sweetheart. Let me take care of âya,â he adds, delicately.
Carting you gently to the side, he digs around in the freezer, reaching for a couple of ice cubes that clink mellifluously in the glass. You watch intently as they bob in line with the whiskey streaming in, and then as he inspects the amber liquid closely, as if to examine its quality.Â
When heâs satisfied, he turns to you, and raises the rim of the glass to your mouth. âHere,â Frank murmurs, condensation collecting around his fingertips. âDrink up.â
You shudder as the whiskey cascades hotly through your veins â each note of pepper, caramel and nutmeg lingering on the surface of your tongue like molten honey. You swallow another mouthful before pushing the glass away, not taking your eyes off of him for a second as he sets it down.
Frank runs his tongue over his teeth, raking his eyes across your face. He focuses on a stray drop of whiskey at the corner of your mouth, using a knuckle to brush it away. Your heart thunders at his calloused touch; as he pauses to swipe his broad thumb over your bottom lip. Thereâs a faint throbbing within you â a wild drumbeat steering you towards nothing but desire â so you flick your tongue out, circling his fingertip, relishing in his taste of salt, earth and whiskey.  Â
He lets out a soft groan, mumbling something that sounds like your name; maybe even a plea to slow down. Youâre attentive, knowing he doesnât want this night over yet, that he wants to wait before taking you to bed.Â
Itâs a good thing then, that you have something planned.Â
You inch forwards, swallowing as Frankâs hand sweeps over the contours of your face, coming to rest at a spot near your ear. He tips your chin upwards, letting his ragged breathing fan over you. He stalls, allowing his dark eyes to bore into yours, and for a moment you forget where you are, the stressors of the day long gone.
All you know is him.Â
His beard prickles your skin as he captures your mouth with his own, but you lean into the kiss, savouring his ardent warmth. He moves with you, deepening the kiss as you slide a hand into his hair, curling your fingers at the nape. Your thighs squeeze together as he pivots you around, pushing you against the counter while his tongue melts against yours. Using his leg to knock your knees apart, you arch into his touch, gasping as the bulge in his jeans settles where you need him the most.Â
You wonât be able to stop if you donât pull away now.
âFrank,â you whisper. âFrank.â
He looks at you, placing a small kiss to your jaw. âMm?âÂ
âBefore⊠uh,â you start, lightheaded and fuzzy, unable to comprehend anything but the heady weight of the whiskey and the ache between your legs. âI've got something for us. A little surprise. And I think,â you indicate, wagging a finger from him to you, âwe should save this for later.â
He arches his eyebrows, smiling inquisitively. âYeah? And whatâs that?âÂ
You step aside to rummage through your bag, taking only a few seconds for you to find what it is youâre looking for. You hold up a clear plastic container, giving it a little shake in front of Frankâs face. His eyes widen in comprehension.
âGod, I love you.âÂ
âHey,â you smirk, ânot God. Just me.âÂ
He chokes on his own laughter, draining the last of your whiskey. âYou got it, sweet girl.â
You bite down on your growing smile. âAnyway, I was thinking the plan could go something like⊠get a little high, have some fun. You know what I mean, right?â
âSâthat right?â
âWe both deserve it.â
âYou need some help with that?â he asks, pointing at the rolling papers youâve set down on the counter.Â
âNope. Walk away.âÂ
Youâre an image of rapt focus with your tongue between your teeth, cautiously grinding the weed before packing it into the rolling paper. You slip a filter on one end of the joint, and using your thumb and forefingers, you roll it into place. Bringing the free edge of rolling paper up to your mouth, you skirt your tongue along the narrow strip of glue, quickly moving to seal the joint.Â
You shoot Frank a resolute look of determination. âNot bad, huh?âÂ
He folds his arms over his chest, leaning back into the couch. Almost hidden in the tangle of his beard, the corners of his mouth tick upwards. You canât quite tell if heâs astonished, impressed, or a mixture of everything in between, but the expression on his face is a priceless ego boost. âAttagirl.â
âMmhm,â you reply drily, admiring your handiwork from up close.
âBaby?â Frank calls, breaking your tethered focus. A glimmer of a smile in your periphery catches your eye.
âYeah?âÂ
Thereâs a sound of rustling fabric as Frank spreads his legs, motioning you over to him by patting his thigh. âCâmere.â
Your gaze softens at his request. âThat sounds good, Frankie. Let me grab my lighter.â
âGot it right here,â Frank chuckles, holding it up and thumbing it open.
Twirling the joint in your fingers, you meander over to his spot on the couch, watching the tiny orange flame dance in his eyes as he holds down the lighter button.Â
Heâs a solid comfort under you as you sit down on his lap, shuffling back until the side of your body is angled to his chest, using the armrest as additional support. His scent is a blissful, pacifying force â distilling in you where it matters.Â
Frank wrests the joint from your grip, assiduous in the way he places it between your lips, then as he lights it for you. The lit end glows as the papered edges begin to burn, flickering in its reflection in the window ahead. You take a drag, letting the smoke fill your mouth before inhaling it into your lungs. Maybe itâs in your head, but your body feels lighter already; even more so as you exhale.Â
The grey-tinged smoke remains opaque for only a second, vanishing into the air as soon as you pass the joint to Frank. You breathe out again, more deeply this time, allowing the grassy, herbal scent of the weed wash over you in waves of tranquil calm.
You cock your head to the side, studying the normally terse man before you leisurely smoking the joint, taking two drags instead of one. Gratitude forms a lump in your throat â nights like these are rare, and to see him so carefree, his mind unoccupied by the workings of the larger world, is a luxury youâll never get tired of.Â
After tapping the gathering ashes into his empty whiskey glass, Frank hands the joint back to you, closing his eyes while he waits for your next pass. As the weed-induced euphoria starts to take effect, you wrench one of Frankâs hands from its spot on your thigh, interlacing your fingers together. You take your time in mapping his knuckles, tracing over every crease, scar and perfect imperfection.Â
You tap on Frankâs shoulder, wanting him as a credible witness for a successful smoke ring, but like all your past attempts, it morphs back into a cloud, hanging there in contempt.Â
He laughs softly, putting you right to shame with a series of flawless rings that fall forwards in an arc towards the coffee table.Â
You giggle, jabbing him in the chest with an expertly-placed elbow. âDonât get too cocky now, Castle.â
His mouth quirks to the side. âYeah? What are you gonna do, hm?â
âIâllâŠâ you search around the room for something to say. âIâll withhold sex!âÂ
He gasps, feigning an expression of outrageous offense. âThatâs cruel, darlinâ.â
Laughing, you reassure him you wouldnât, really, but he takes the opportunity to soar through the cracks of your defense, hauling you backwards until his face is flush with the shell of your ear. âReally think you could resist it? Not havin' sex?âÂ
The retorts crumble away as he tells you to âopen up, sweetheartâ, lifting the joint back to his lips. He breathes in deeply, turning his head to then exhale the smoke into your parted mouth. Your eyes roll back as he seals it with a kiss, and it catches you a little by surprise, but you run with it, inhaling as much as you can.
Not quite ready to let go of your earlier comments, Frank does it again, shotgunning into your mouth until you're left with nothing but a dreamy expression and no thoughts left in your mind.
You let out a contented sigh as the weed goes to your head, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where his beard scratched your lip.Â
Eyes drooping, Frank wraps his arms tightly around you, holding you as close as he can, trailing kisses along your shoulder blades, down your arm, whispering sweet nothings and notes of âI love youâ until you slacken in his grip. You touch your lips to his forehead, now resting in the crook of your neck, his steady breathing keeping you anchored to your reality.
The next hour passes by in a haze â youâre mildly aware that there was another joint rolled in that time, courtesy of Frank, probably, but your memory retains the best parts: the giddy, high epiphanies, the smoke-filled kisses, the long-drawn-out touches⊠the fact that his skin has never felt so soft.
Exceptionally and utterly stoned, you move, draping your legs over his lap, clinging onto his neck so you can bury your face in his shirt â so spaced out that you barely register him talking.Â
â...Who the fuck is âDrakeâ anyway?âÂ
âWhat?!â you sputter, snickering as if itâs the funniest thing youâve ever heard. âHeâs a rapper, Frankie.âÂ
âHeâs off limits, so donât even tryâ â you stumble over your words â âenacting your justice or⊠whatever.â
Frank frowns at you, pressing his lips into a thin line.Â
And then he bursts into laughter. Unequivocal, heaving sobs of hysterical laughter. And it might be the sweetest thing youâve ever heard.Â
âEnacting my justice? That what you think it is?â he howls, bringing his fist down onto the couch. âYou really think Iâve got nothinâ better to do than hunt down rappers?!â
âA little bit,â you sniffle, wiping away the tears of joy streaming down your face. âYou know whoâd love this conversation?âÂ
He shakes his head as you continue. âMicro.â
âMicro,â he nods, affirming your point. âBet heâd know more about âDrakeâ than me.â
You chortle at his aggressive hand gestures. âYou donât need air-quotations every time you say Drake, you know.â
He waves a hand in the air. âAhh, I know.â
âFrank Castle,â you say, kissing his cheek once, then twice, âI think this is the wisest youâve ever been.â
âOh, câmon. Really?â
You gesture at the stub of your second joint, floating in the bottom of his whiskey glass. âYep. You might have to do this more.â
âYouâre gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.â
âBetter me than whatâs out there. Right, Frank?â you croon, batting your eyes at him.
âSâright, darlinâ. Thatâs right.â
tags {x} @darlingshane @castlesnchurches @reborn-rekall @marvelswh0re @itwasthereaminuteago @simple-lovebot @chvoswxtch @pedrito-friskito @chellestrash @theradioactivespidergwen @twilightbarnes @splendiferous-bitch @bl4ckpr1ncess @kaybeeboop @kdogreads @swearwolf13 @rqgnarok @qu1etwolf @honeyedheartss @runa-falls @whistle1whistle @awkwardalie
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i've got you, darlin'
masterlist
pairing: frank castle x afab!reader
summary: frank makes getting your period a little easier to bear
warnings: mentions of heavy periods (cramps, pain, body aches, but no bleeding), fluff and frank looking after you, protective frank!!!
a/n: for my sweet @chellestrash đ who deserves the world (and frank castle)
He knows, even before your eyes flutter closed and your grip tightens on the sheets. He knows, just from the way his name comes out in a hoarse whisper, more of a plea than a prayer.
Frank kneels onto the ground, his voice a gentle cadence in your ear. "That time again, huh?"
You swallow harshly, unable to stop the pained grimace distorting your face, at a loss of how else to say yes. It seems like a simple answer, a candid one, but it's a response you've come to loathe.Â
Because every month, not unlike clockwork, it's an age-old reply to the same question.
Your body starts to seize, despite the breathing exercises running rampant through your head â in through the nose for three, hold for four, out through the mouth for five â and the heavy blankets doing absolutely nothing to warm your frigid skin.Â
Ice and searing fire glitter in your veins, a complicated dance with no ending, not bothering to tiptoe around the white-hot knife twisting into your stomach.Â
"M'right here, sweetheart," Frank murmurs, at the ready, dropping Advil into your gnarled, outstretched hand, before lifting a glass of water to your lips.Â
He helps you upright, making sure the pills go down, watching your reaction to see if you need anything more.Â
Your eyes dart to the kitchen, a silent communicator of the one other thing that's missing, but Frank shakes his head, placing the heat pack across your abdomen in near-perfect synchronisation. "Already got it."
A meek "Thanks, Frankie" is all you manage amongst the bouts of blinding discomfort, more of a rasp than intended. Curling up into a ball, you bury your face into the pillows, doing your best to ground yourself, to let his scent settle over you in a wave of calm.Â
The mattress dips as Frank sits down next to you, dragging a soothing hand across your back, alternating his touch between long, languid strokes and featherlight circles.Â
"Honestly sweetheart," he muses, the hint of a smile flitting across his face, "you'd make a great Marine."
You blink at him, disconcerted. Â
He gestures towards you, chuckling. "I tell 'ya, the guys thought they were tough shit, but one week of this and they woulda been beggin' for mercy. You put 'em to shame."
You roll your eyes, mustering a weak smile. "Well it's not like I have a choice, do I?"
"Yeah? And? Ainât makinâ me any less proud."
The next cramp snowballs into you before you have a chance to respond, impending fatigue crawling up your spine in lashes.Â
And then his hands are on you, his body sheltering yours, encasing you with every ounce of protective warmth he can muster. He holds you closely, nestling your head in the crook of his neck, letting his arms fall into place.Â
He presses a kiss to your forehead, into your hair. âIâve got you, darlinâ. Iâve got you.âÂ
Sharpness turns to a throbbing, dull ache, though it reverberates in your bones, turning your muscles to jelly.Â
Still, you grasp at him, clutching him tighter, as if heâs the one thing in the world that could actually get you through this.Â
You suppress a bout of muted laughter. Youâre always going to be the one getting yourself through this, no matter what, butâŠ
At least Frank makes it more bearable.Â
âItâs going to be a long week,â you sigh, your words muffled against his chest.Â
And itâs true. Youâre going to be here for a while.Â
But heâs got you.Â
And itâs gonna be okay.Â
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thinking about... matt and shower sex.
series masterlist | main masterlist | part one | alternate ending | part three
he sneaks up behind you, or well, as covertly as he can despite the fact that you've been subtly hinting for his presence the entire time you've been in the shower. he knows every time your heart rate picks up looking over at him, or your sudden, sharp intakes of breath as your fingers graze your clit. his hands find their place on your waist, walking you gently past the steady stream of water until you're close enough to the wall for support.
he's the kind of guy who nudges you to spread your legs, guiding you forwards until your back is arched and ready for him. he bites his lip as he strokes himself, almost uncomfortably hard at the thought of being inside you, or the fact that your moans will echo throughout the bathroom, in turn kicking his senses into overdrive.
he nudges the thick head of his cock where you need him most, coating himself in your slick, pushing in inch-by-inch until your whimpers turn ragged, until your pleas for more turns to command. he's snug, fitting so tightly that you inevitably clench around him, causing him to sink his teeth into your shoulder.
when he's buried inside you, one arm wrapped around your stomach and the other hand reaching, bracing the wall-- it's an effort to reign it in, to keep himself from spending every last drop. he breathes, however uneven, grunting as he thrusts upwards, driving himself into the spot that makes his name shatter across your lips.
his teeth graze your neck throughout this unhurried affair, his strokes far too languid for the ferventness of his thoughts. the water trickles in the shallow space between the two of you, steam curling in tendrils in the heat of the shower.
he's yours and you're his, you think, as he fucks you deeper, your heart racing with the crest of your orgasm.
"mine," he growls, burying his head in the crook of your neck, losing himself in your scent and in your touch.
every need of his is met over and over again as he bends you over, his control drained to its last dregs.
"mine," matt groans, far louder than it seems in his head. he's certain that "this is what heaven feels like" because you take his cum so fucking well.
his world turns to fire as every nerve of his is set alight, cooling to embers only when you muster the strength to pull away.
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kiss and don't tell
masterlist
pairing: elektra natchios x f!reader + matt murdock and frank castle
summary: when frank and matt tap elektra's phone to figure out what she's up to, the last person they'd expect her to call is you
warnings: phone sex, matt and frank arguing like husbands, f!masturbation, elektra making everyone in her vicinity whimper, m!masturbation, exhibitionism
a/n: credits to my lovely @chvoswxtch for inspiration with elektra's phone background and @mikeymurdock for confirming darling matthew's birthday! this is my first time writing for elektra so be kind pls & HAPPY FUCKIN PRIDE !!!
âThought you said she was always on that thing,â Frank grumbles, tapping on a flat-screen monitor displaying the layout of a phone lockscreen. He stares intently at the red supernova background, scrunitising on the halo of stars ringed around the edges of the phone.Â
âShe is,â Matt murmurs, furrowing his brows until they almost disappear beneath his glasses.
Frank sighs, leaning back in his chair, interlacing his hands behind his head. âItâs been four hours, Red. Why donât âya get some shut-eye, and Iâll stay up.â It wasnât a question.
âCanât be,â Matt breathes, mussing his hair. âItâs happeningââhe pauses, fingers flitting over his watchââtonight.âÂ
Disconcertion settles over Frankâs face as he wonders if this really is the way heâs spending his Friday night. His mouth quirks to the side. âFirst Iâm gonna ask you how you know that, and second I wanna know exactly what weâre doing.â
âI know her, Frank. I just⊠know.â
âThe fuck kinda answerâs that?â Frank glares, incredulous. âWhat, so you can listen to people breathing five blocks away, anticipate a bulletâs exact trajectory and now you can predict the future?â
Matt loosens his tie, looking more offended at the implication of being a fortune teller than at any other of Frankâs digs tonight. âOf course not! Sâjust that⊠all of a sudden, sheâs back in my life again. I wanna know what sheâs doing, why sheâs here, and what she has planned. You donât know her like I do, Frank. Elektra isnât good news.â
Frank yawns. âSo? Ask her.â
âItâs not that simple.â
âHmm.âÂ
A muscle feathers in Mattâs jaw, the tension more palpable than ever, especially with the time ticking idly by. He adjusts the earbuds connected to the laptop in front of him, straining for a single sound, or any hint of activity, but he picks up on nothing.Â
Theyâve got all her communications tapped, thanks to Micro and hisâas Foggy so aptly put itâtechnological wizardry, but this inactivity is well beyond her arrhythmic patterns. Matt glides his fingertips over her activity logs; every record of data painstakingly collated by Micro throughout the last two weeks. If thereâs one thing about Elektra, itâs that Matt could count on her being out on a Friday night.Â
Mattâs aware of Frankâs narrowing eyes, in similar concentration on the monitor ahead. âYou think sheâs really gonna leave us hanginâ?â
âNo, no, itâs justâ sheâs smart, okay? Sheâs smart, but I donât think she knows. Sheâd make it obvious otherwise.â
âI dunno Red,â Frank shrugs, âBaitinâ your ex like this? Thatâs ballsy. Even for you.â
Mattâs head whips to the side at the mention of that word, ears pricking at the sudden dilation of Frankâs pupils, and the acceleration of his heartbeat. Heâs readying himself for a fight. âIâm not giving you the satisfaction of a response, Frank.â
Frank tsks. âAh, but âya just did.â
Click.
Itâs the unmistakable noise of Elektraâs phone being unlocked.
2-1-1-0-8-7
Matt straightens up in his chair, pushing his earbuds further in. âFrank!â he hisses. âScreen!âÂ
âAinât that your birthday? October 21?â Frank smirks.
Reddening, Matt pushes the grating thought aside. Heâd discuss her passcode later, when time wasnât of the essence. âKeep an eye on that screenââ
âSheâs calling someone,â Frank interjects. He squints at the display. âWhoâs⊠âDarlingâ?â
âDarling?â Matt stumbles over his words as the dial tone rings a little too loudly in his ears. âI-I donât know.âÂ
Thereâs a hint of amusement in Frankâs voice. âShe ever call you that?âÂ
But Mattâs response comes out quick. Too quick. âNo!â
Frankâs mouth curves into a smile. âSâwhat I thought.â
Matt goes to retort, but the purpose of this mission embeds itself in his mind. âWe have full access to her calls, her internet history, all her devicesâŠIf sheâs planning anything, itâs gonna be tonight.â
âCanât believe Iâm sayinâ this, but I trust âya,â Frank nods. âWe got her.â
âAlright. Iâm taking these out.â Unceremoniously, Matt yanks the earbuds out of his ears, wincing as the dial tone plays over the loudspeakers wired to the entire setup.Â
Frank cocks his ear towards the speaker in the corner, glancing at the call logs laid out on his lap. He counts softly to himself. âIâm seeinâ this Darling a lot. At least twice a day.â
Before they can deliberate further, Elektraâs ambient voice fills the tiny space. âHello, Darling.â She pauses, hinting a smile. âReady for me?â
Frank arches an eyebrow. âThe fuck?â
âWhat took you so long?â
Matt stands up so abruptly that his chair falls to the ground, dizzy with the clang of metal on concrete. âThatâsââ
Out of all the people theyâd unassumingly characterised as the mysterious Darling, they would never, not in a million years, expect to hear you.Â
âDid you look at the package I had delivered to you?â Elektra purrs, honeyed in a way that prickles the hairs on the back of Mattâs neck. âI wouldâve sent it myself, but duty calls.â
âShit, Red,â Frank chuckles. âYouâre in deep shit.â
âItâs beautiful,â you say, âand it fits perfectly. You know me so well, Ellie.â
âEllie?!â Matt mouths. âWhat?â
âI knew itâd fit, Darling. Now be a good girl and spread those legs for me.â
In complete disregard of Matt choking on his own spit, Frankâs eyes fly open. âThis part of your mission?â
âN-no. Definitely not. Butââ Matt hesitates, swallowing dryly. âWe need to keep listening. For all we know, our friend here could be a contact.â
âFuckinâ perv.â
Feeling his temper rise, Matt takes a deep breath, willing his urge to fight dissipate. âSâthere a way to turn the volume down?â
âBeats me,â Frank replies, nonchalant. âBut small world, huh? Our friendââFrank emphasisesââand your ex. A girl youâre into and a girl you used to be into.â
âIâm not into her.â
Frank snorts. âYeah, you are.â
âHmm,â Matt says, nodding, âso explain why your heart beats faster around her.â
Thereâs more than a hint of annoyance in Frankâs reply. âWhat?â
âI know you heard me correctly, Castle. You canât hide shit from me.â
âShut the fuck up,â Frank growls, kicking his chair away, sending the call logs scattering to the floor.Â
âIâm so wet for you,â you gasp, unknowingly diffusing yet another fight, your breathy moans barely audible over the speakers.Â
Frank stiffens, his fists unfurling from his sides. âWait, wait, wait. Did I justââ
The tips of Mattâs ears go pink.Â
âMm,â Elektra muses. âI can still taste you, you know.â
âAnd how do I taste, Ellie?â
Elektra laughs, the sound crystalline. âDelicious.â
All of a sudden, it feels as if the labyrinthine, constricting nature of Microâs lab seals off from the outside world, trapping both men and their paramours inside.Â
âPlease,â you whimper, every stuttered breath punctuating the words that come to mind.Â
âUse your words, Darling. Please what?â
âTell me how to touch myself.â
Frank shifts uncomfortably in his chair, wringing his hands as his eyes search for a distraction. âFeels like weâve crossed a line, Red.â
âSince when have you ever cared about crossing lines?â Matt asks, scowling. âItâs pertinent. ToâŠthe mission.â
âCut the shit. Weâre not in Catholic school. You can just admit youâre horny.â
âJesus, Frank! Iâm notâŠâ
âOf course,â Elektra hums, but the inflection in her voice indicates the kind of coyness that tells Matt sheâs in complete control, physically present or not.Â
Strained nostalgia sends him into overdrive, even more so as he contemplates just how she knows you.Â
You, of all people, he knows, would be better off without someone like Elektra.Â
Yet here you are.Â
âUse one finger, Darling,â she continues, âand touch your clit for me. Up and down, just the way you like it.â
âFuck,â you murmur, squirming as Elektra conducts your pleasure. âI want more.â
âGreedy, arenât you? Youâre lucky I feel generous tonight. Do you think you could handle two fingers?â
Matt exhales softly, licking his lips as he falters back to his seat. âMaybe youâre right.
âYes,â you whisper. âAnything you ask for, Ellie. I can handle it.â
âGood girl. Let me hear how wet you are.â
Tipping his chin towards the ceiling, Matt reaches forward, fumbling for the cable connecting the speakers to their set up. âWeâll try again tomorrââ
âNo,â Frank murmurs, holding his hand out reflexively. He hesitates swatting Mattâs hand away from the wire, but he still follows through, however unconvincing the gesture seems to be. Itâs true; his stance was different just moments ago, but he thinks about it carefully now. Maybe Mattâs right, and the outcome of the call will be more useful than not, but maybe, buried deep down amongst the feelings he harbours for youâŠ
âWhy?â
Saying nothing further, Frank turns his attention back to you, still conflicted about whether or not he should listen in.
Positioning the phone between your legs, you lean down to rub your clit, alternating between featherlight strokes and deep-pressure circles. As you begin to splinter with the thought of your impending orgasm, you dip two fingers into your pussy, hoping the mic picks up on the slickness pooling between your legs.Â
Slowly, you stretch yourself out, picturing her there, watching you. Savouring you. âGod, Ellie, it feels soââ
âMm,â Elektra moans, pausing to praise you as she ruffles around her nightstand. âCan you guess what Iâm doing?â
You slide a pillow under your hips, groaning as you rock against your fingers. âIâm picturing you and your legs spread, your red silk robe draped over the side of the bed, and youâreâ fuck! Fuck, Ellieââ
âCum for me, pretty girl.â
Crying out, you arch your back into your own touch, riding your hand until your body recovers just enough to go again. âI know youâre⊠youâre grabbing your favourite dildo, so you can fuck yourself while you fuck me.â
âHm, has anyone told you how clever you are?âÂ
âYouâre picturing it, arenât you?â Matt asks, his face indiscernible. âThe two of âem, together.â
Frank nods, pressing his lips together. âYeah.â
âI guess we finally agree about something,â Matt says, chuckling.
âYeah? And whatâs that, exactly?â
âDo I really need to spell it out for you, Castle?â
Elektra huffs into the receiver, a faint buzzing emitting from her end of the call. âPut the phone down, Darling.â
âButââ
She continues, humoured and unfazed. âI can still hear you, donât worry. I want you to use one finger on your clit, and hm⊠Three fingers in your pussy.â She poses her next words as a question. âAlthough, I know from the way you moaned my name that you added a third without asking?â
âMm, Ellieââ
âIâll let you off, just once.â
With every noise he picks up, Matt feels himself growing flustered. With all his tells laying out in the openâthe flush in his cheeks, to his staggered breathingâheâs a dead giveaway. He pulls his tie over his head, unable to form a single coherent thought, the pretense of the mission long gone. Clearing his throat, Matt sits upright, draping his arm across his lap in an effort to conceal his growing erection. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but one of Elektraâs moans punctuates his focus, catching him off guard.Â
Warmth singes Mattâs spine as he notices Frankâs gaze sliding to his lap.
âShit, Red,â Frank murmurs, shaking his head, âIâm just⊠gonna leave you be. Okay? Call out when youâre⊠done.â He stands up promptly, stalking to the bedrolls in the other room.
âWaitââ Matt calls out, wanting to communicate that being left alone to act on his impulses is the last thing he needsâŠ
But Frank makes a good point. Especially when heâs off to do the same thing.
âYou know I can hear you jerking off, right?!â Matt yells.Â
Frankâs retort bounces off the walls. âMind your own damn business, Red!âÂ
âWhatever,â Matt mutters. Grateful for the privacy, he takes a moment to unbuckle his belt, tuning out the clinking of the metal in favour of the conversation overhead.
âWill you do me a favour, Ellie?â you gasp, pumping your fingers in and out of you with increasing speed.
âThat depends on what you want.â
Desperation limns your voice, but youâre past the point of caring. âI want to hear you fuck yourself. Let me hear you cum.â
Thereâs a shuffle of fabric on the other end of the phone as Elektra makes a small noise of approval.Â
Matt doesnât need to be told that sheâs moved in favour of a better position.Â
Cowgirl was always her favourite.
He groans, still fully clothed, bucking into his hand as he concentrates on Elektraâs rhythmic breathing and hisses of pleasure. He palms himself, knowing sheâs riding her dildo the same way sheâd ride him, knowing just from the way she sounds that sheâs getting close.
But sheâs not the object of his attention tonight.
Not when youâre right there, unbelievably tangible yet barely within his grasp.
He wants you, affirming the thought as he pushes his underwear down; just enough to wrap his fist around his cock. He doesnât have time to take it slow, so this will have to do.
In the other room, the noises you make echo in Frankâs mind, playing and replaying until heâs forced to hold onto the concrete wall to maintain any semblance of sanity. He squeezes his eyes shut as he fucks his hand, picturing you all stretched out, taking him until he has no more left to give. Â
As if they both hadnât just spilled into their hands, unable to shake the relief that gave way into yearning, they remember that there is still the matter of the mission at hand.
âI⊠I think theyâre finishing up,â Matt rasps, rolling his chair up to the laptop on the main desk.Â
Frank replies with a curt nod, taking his place on Mattâs left.Â
âBetter?â Elektra exhales, satisfaction now evident in her tone.Â
âAlways.â
âSame time tomorrow, Darling?â she asks, cheerful.Â
âWhy donât I come over to yours, Ellie? We can leave the curtains open again, give New York a little show.â
Elektra clicks her tongue. âAh, like the one we put on tonight?âÂ
Frank shoots a sideways glance at Matt.Â
She continues, more resolute than before. âI think an in-person show might be better. Donât you think so, boys?âÂ
âNo goddamn way,â he mouths.
Elektra pouts. âYou both came awfully fast, didnât you?â
Frank was right; theyâd listened far too long. To something far too personal.Â
Matt swears, searching for a way to end the call.Â
âYou really think I wouldnât find out? Amateurs.â
Frank sighs as the dial tone rings in their ears, clapping Matt on the back. âWell, I think our coverâs blown.â
âYeah, no shit.â
âNice knowinâ you, Red. Nice knowinâ you.â
tags {x} for everyone who interacted with the original post/people who might like this đ @v4leoftears @devils-dares @chvoswxtch @itwasthereaminuteago @castlesnchurches @reborn-rekall @qu1etwolf @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass @murdock-and-the-sea @fxlsealarm @hailey-murdock
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cherry red
masterlist
pairing: frank castle x f!reader
summary: you and frank break into a vintage car dealership to scope something out for agent madani, and it turns out that you have a little time to spare before the drop happens
warnings: mentions of cocaine (no drug use), breaking and entering, the FBI lmao, shameless flirting, calling frank big boy, pain kink if you squint, (very little) spit because how else do you up frank's pleasure *gunshot*, unprotected p in v, creampie, goodbye i'm going to bed
a/n: for everyone who agrees that frank should be called 'big boy', this is for you!!! also this is my first full length frank fic lets fucking go
Thereâs not a sound but the rustle of your clothes as you case the dealership, Frank following closely behind you. He looks over his shouldersâa cautionary measure, despite the fact that the owners are on the other side of the worldâbefore thumbing at the light switch on the wall.
Fluorescent lights flicker on in stages, a steady, low hum of electricity filling the space. Your eyes squint as you adjust to the brightness.
Frank looses a bated breath. âHoly shit.â
âHoly shit,â you affirm, casting your gaze across the almost-cavernous, windowless room. Rows and rows of vintage cars stare back, their timeless, luxurious finishes glinting in the white light.
âThatâs gotta be worth more thanâŠâ you trail off, looking down at your hands.
âTwenty-two million dollars. This room alone,â Frank finishes.
You swear, stepping forwards to skim your fingers along a chromed side mirror, then bending down to check your reflection. âSo what are we looking for again?â
Frank sets his duffel bag down onto the reception desk, careful not to disturb the fanned business cards adorning the surface. âGuns, coke, contraband,â he lists. âWhatever we can find.â
âHmm.â
âWhat?â Frank asks, bewildered. His attention snaps to you.
âIs there a car in particular weâre looking for?â
âHonestly sweetheart, I dunno. If we gotta sweep every single one, thatâs what we gotta do.â
You push up off your knees, weaving in and out of the cars. âBefore the auction, yeah?â
âSâright,â he grunts, pulling out a silver crowbar. âSmart girl.â
Ignoring the heat now searing your face, you focus on trying to name the cars, although you really only recognise a few of them.
Your eyes warily glaze over a black 1962 Chevrolet Corvette, its headlights polished to perfection. Next to it there are a number of vintage Ferraris, one Aston Martin, and a newer model Rolls Royce in the corner.
But one car in particular snags your eye, knocking the breath from you.
Frank whistles. âSheâs pretty.â
You shoot him an incredulous glare, slightly offended heâd say that about the car and not you.
Heâs not wrong, though.
Itâs an old Mercedes. A 1961 Roadster, you think, marvelling at the almost pearlescent ivory paint restoration, the perfectly polished hubcaps, and the smooth leather interior of the deepest cherry red. Youâre transfixed as you hear the engine in your mind, the revving beneath your feet, feeling the phantom breeze ruffling your hair as you speed down the highway with no destination in mind.
âYou know what I think?â Frank says, clearing his throat, but youâre caught in your fever dream, music blaring from a shut-off radio thatâs only active in your head. âI thinkâŠâ he trails off, voice dropping to a bare whisper.
You whirl around as a loud clang drags you back to the present, one of the gleaming Mercedes-Benz hubcaps laying flat on the ground.
âWhat the hell, Frank?â you glower, eyes widening.
He responds with a grunt as he moves to the driverâs side, leaning his bodyweight into the crowbar as the next hubcap pops off.
Your hands fly to your face as he continues to move around the car, vandalising it beyondâ
Oh.
The corners of Frankâs mouth curl into a wry smirk. âFuckinâ knew it.â
He motions for you to come over, using his crowbar to pry out several small, duct-tape-wrapped packages from inside the wheel. âDumbest fuckinâ hiding place Iâve ever seen.â
He pats the passenger door. âGotta give it to âem, though. Moving drugs through cars at an auction? Itâs a Ponzi scheme, but a goddamn good one.â
âThis what I think it is?â you ask, crouching down next to him, irresolutely turning one of the bricks over.
He nods, pulling a knife tucked into his boot before sticking it into one of the packages. He dips his hand into the opening, rubbing what looks to be a white powder in between his fingers.
âTime to call Madani,â he grits, placing the brick back on the ground. âCould you do that fâme, sweetheart?â
Biting your lip, you pull out your phone to dial Madaniâs number, wincing as Frank digs out the rest of the cocaine from your beloved Roadster. In eager anticipation, she picks up after the first ring, and the drop is arranged for 2.30 AM.
That leaves you thirty minutes to spare.
âSo, Frank,â you remark, tucking your phone back in your pocket, âdo we need to check any of the other cars?â
He sets the crowbar on the ground, getting up to lean against the front passenger side door. âNah,â he replies, folding his arms across his chest, âFBIâs problem now.â
The growing smile on your face turns suggestive. âGuess we have time to kill before they show up, hm?â
Frank cocks his head. âAnd whatâs that supposed to mean, sweetheart?â
You stride towards him, reaching out your hands to uncross his arms so they lay straight at his sides. Trailing the tip of your index finger up his chest, you circle the outline of his mouth. It catches on his bottom lip as you drag it back down, and he shudders at the lightness of your touch.
âWouldnât you like to know, big boy?â you grin.
He moves off the car, rolling his eyes as you saunter to the driverâs side, brows furrowing as you go to unlatch the door. The red leather is cool beneath you as you slide in, hands instinctively going to grip the wheel. Imagining the engine roaring to life, you press your foot down on the accelerator, as far as itâll go.
âYouâre playing with me, arenât you?â Frank chuckles, running a hand through his hair.
âMaybe,â you muse, aware of the mischievous glint in your eyes. âIf thatâs something you want.â
âYou havenât had any of the white stuff, have âya? âCause youâre sure acting like it.â
âDick,â you swear. âWeâre surrounded by nice cars, Frank. How do you expect me to behave?â Taking your hands off the wheel, you twist in your seat to face him. âSurely theyâd have the keys here somewhere, right?â
He scoffs. âYeah, like theyâd keep the keys to a four hundred thousand dollar car here.â
âAwww,â you pout, âbut I wanna go for a ride.â
Frankâs ears perk up. âSâthat so?â
You lean back against the seat, running your tongue over your lips. âIn this car.â
âWhat, and you think I can help with that?â
You bat your eyes at him. âDonât get too flattered, but I think youâre the only person in the world who can help with that right now.â
âRight now?â he shoots back. âJust right now, huh?â
âShut up and get over here before I rescind my request, Castle.â
You donât think youâve ever seen him move that fast, because he climbs into the passenger side, scrambling to get you on his lap.
âCâmere,â he murmurs, hands finding your waist, guiding you back and forth over his hardening cock. His breath fans your neck as he nips at your pulse, spreading his legs apart on the seat.
You tip your chin downwards, your lips messily crashing into his, his mouthâhis bodyâwarm and supple against yours. He shifts his hips, slotting himself between your thighs and into the one place you need him most. At this rate, the friction of your clothing is almost too much to bear, but youâve always been one to toe the line between pain and pleasure.
Especially when Frankâs involved.
Your body clenches as he palms your clit, groaning your name into your skin, etching kisses along the curve of your jaw. He skirts the hem of your top, slipping his tongue into your mouth before lifting it over your head, leaving it in a scandalous pile on the driverâs side.
âNaughty girl,â he laughs dryly, adding your bra to the pile along with his own shirt. âTell me this isnât what you thought of first when you saw the car.â He stiffens as you catch his bottom lip with your teeth.
âDonât tell me you arenât enjoying it,â you croon, the jovial note of your amusement diffusing itself into the vast space of the dealership. Your fingers roam along the plane of his stomach, feeling his abs contort underneath your touch. âPretty boy.â
Resting his hands on either side of your spine, Frank swipes his thumbs over your nipples, intently staring as you throw your head back, rolling your hips into his. You squeeze your thighs into his sides as he seals his mouth over one of your breasts, flicking his tongue over the pebbled flesh.
âBruiseââ he groans, his voice caught in a hoarse whisper. Oh, right, you remember, looking down at the purple splotch stretching across the ribs on his right side.
But you donât let up, not when heâs driving you mad and touching you like this. You dig your knee into the bruise lightly, waiting for his body to seize, for his panting to echo before putting it back down on the seat.
âYouâre a fuckinââ animalââ
Something compels you to do it again, but he slaps your leg away, retaliating by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You cry out his name, the echo of it thundering in your ears.
âDick,â you gasp, slamming your palms into his chest. You gripe at the fact that he loses himself in a quiet sort of laughter, and that heâs all chiseled muscle and not putty in your hands.
âYou insulting me or sâthat what you want?â
The mirthful gleam in his eyes flicker as he looks you up and down, waiting for your next move.
âFine,â you say, a little too scornful considering the situation youâve found yourself in, moving to undo his belt. Pausing once to take your own pants off, your fingers move deftly to unbutton his jeans before you tug them down and off his legs. Not taking your gaze off of him, you brace one hand on his shoulder while the other slowly creeps up his thigh.
Frank squirms beneath you, his lips pressing into a thin line as you cup his balls. Your breathing turns shallow as you wrap your hand around his shaft, running your thumb over the precum glistening on the head of his cock.
âFuckinââ shitâ,â he hisses as you squeeze him. You hinge forward to nip his earlobe, to whisper filthy nothings in his ear, but he bucks his hips upwards, almost reflexively.
And that is something too good to pass up.
âFeel good, Frankie?â you ask, moving to stroke him up and down, ensuring your pace is just shy of what he likes on himself.
âMmââ
âI think thisâll feel better,â you interject, pausing to spit on his cock.
Frankâs mouth parts in a wide groan at the added lubrication, and the way youâve so brazenly spat on him, narrowly missing the priceless cherry red leather. Not that having sex in this car isnât already brazen to begin with.
Clambering back onto his lap, you nudge his cock into your opening, coating him in the slick of your arousal. You press your face against his cheek as he pushes himself inside you, moaning into his mouth at the sensation of his thick head stretching you out. It burns, but it burns so fucking good.
He grits his teeth as he eases you down on him, guiding you inch-by-inch until you're so full you can barely breathe, your core tightening to the point where you wonder if he can feel pleasure at all.
He reminds you that yes, in fact he can, because he's cursing under his breath, gripping the dashboard so goddamn hard you think he might leave half-moon marks in the shape of his nails. He jerks his hips into yours, driving himself so deep you see stars for a second, whispering into the trance of your intimacy that you're his girl and that you feel so fuckin' tight he might burst at any given moment.
Now accommodated to his size, you fling your arms around his neck as you begin to move, resting your forehead against his. You roll your hips in languid, circular motions, fingers curling in the short hair at the nape of his neck.
"God fucking damn, Frank," you whimper, switching to bounce on his lap, holding onto the top of the seat for extra support. He sends you into a catatonic state of delirium as his thick cock hits deeper in this position, and soon you're squeezing around him, crying his name and falling over the edge of satisfaction.
Frank buries his face in your tits as you collapse onto his chest, your body still moving to the rhythm pounding inside your head.
"Hey, hey sweetheart," he says gently, moving to caress your jaw. "You okay?"
You flash him a weak smile, holding out a thumbs-up. "Keep going, Frank. M'not done yet."
"You sure?"
Raising your hips only to slam them back down on his seems to give him the reassurance he's seeking. Thrill shoots up your spine as he pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around your waist.
His tone is nothing short of wicked. "I do as I'm told, yeah?"
He drills himself into you, setting a ruthless pace, mouth roving over every accessible inch of bare skin. You thank every god you can think of for making this place soundproof, because the two of you would be so incredibly dead if anyone could hear the sounds coming from your mouth.
You fall apart on his cock more times than you can count, burying your face in his neck as Frank's thrusts become more erratic and sloppy, his strokes faltering with every passing second.
"M'gonna cum for you," he groans, throwing his head back against the seat and lurching his arm towards the top of the windscreen. He presses one last open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone as his hips stutter, spilling every last drop inside you.
"Fuck," he whispers, his cock twitching as you finally muster the energy to get off of him. He looks down at himself, horrified, and you follow his eye line to the mess on the seat between his thighs.
You choke, caught between a laugh and a gasp, equally panicking at how you're going to clean it up and possibly more importantly, how Madani isn't going to figure out what you've just done.
"Guess we can call this hard evidence for the FBI?" you sputter, trying your best to swallow your growing smirk.
Frank's cheeks turn red as he blows out a breath. "S'alright. This belonged to an asshole and it was gonna be bought by an even bigger one." He shrugs. "If I can't put 'em down, this is the least they owe me."
"You know Frankie, sometimes your logic is flawed, but I think you're right on this one."
He goes to smack your ass, but as you pull your panties on, your phone lights up in the footwell of the car, its shrill ringtone deafening to your ears.
MADANI
You glance at Frank, a humorous expression dancing across your face. "Good timing, huh?"
"Ain't that right."
tags {x} for all my frank girlies!!! <3 (I'M SORRY IF I FORGOT SOMEONE I'M SO NOT OK RIGHT NOW)
@marvelswh0re @murdock-and-the-sea @itwasthereaminuteago @munsonownsmyass @reborn-rekall @castlesnchurches @chellestrash @darlingshane @chvoswxtch @stress--relief @pedrito-friskito
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thinking about... frank finding out about you and matt.
series masterlist | main masterlist | part two | part four
"Need me to go over the details for tonight, Red?"
Draining what's left in his coffee cup, Frank settles onto the couch, sinking into the worn leather. He shoots a sideways glance at the noise in the kitchen, courtesy of Matt rustling through the fridge, before backing you over to the empty spot beside him.
"I'm fine, Frank. Can I get you more coffee? Or I dunno, a beer?"
"Jesus, Red," Frank scoffs. "It's nine o'clock."
Matt laughs softly. "I'm pre-preparing."
You cuddle up to Frank's side, shutting your eyes for a second as he wraps his arm around you, pulling you in close. You lay your head on his broad chest, almost blissfully unaware of what they're planning, or the danger they'll put themselves in.
"Let me get this straight, one more time," Frank announces, running a finger through your hair. "I don't care how you look at me," he says, shaking his head at the look of annoyance on Matt's face. "No fuck ups, Red. Can't afford that. Not after last time."
Frank waits for Matt to argue, but to his surprise, he's met with a silent front. Maybe even united, if he could ever call it that. "Any questions?"
Matt shrugs. "No, I'm good. You?"
"Actually," Frank chuckles, "There is one more thing." He shuffles further onto the couch, angling his body to face Matt's.
"Hm?"
Frank licks his lips as a scornful smile forms across his face, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Been meanin' to ask," he starts, cocking his head to the side. "How long have you been fucking my girlfriend?"
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thinking about⊠the way frank touches himself.
series masterlist | main masterlist | part two
heâs as an everywhere-but-the-bed kinda guy, really only jerking himself off when he feels the need toâeither after a long fucking day when thereâs no other way to release the tensionâŠor when heâs fiercely craving you.
being in the shower is the only time he truly takes his clothes off when he pleasures himself. he scrubs at his hair, letting the water cascade down his back and the plane of his stomach, watching as his cock twitches with intent, already hard and gleaming with a mixture of pre-cum and water. he grunts as he squeezes the shaft in his hand, eyes fluttering at the sensitivity of his own touch.
itâs a visceral experience for him; a single moment of vulnerability in his day where he bows to nothing but the urges in his brain.
and with his unfaltering grip come the noisesâbreathy grunts that fill the space of the room, snarls that catch in his throat. when he yearns for you, his moans become drawn out. soft, even.
he pleads your name as he pumps himself, thinking about the vice youâd make around his cock if he were inside you. he thrusts into his hand, tempo increasing with every passing stroke, nostrils flaring as he crawls towards his breaking point.
when heâs ready to blow, nothing fires him more than the urge to paint his surroundings white, coupled with the flashes of frank-esque ire that fringe his vision.
in this moment, frank castle submits entirely to the mercy of his hand. he rabidly watches the messy, thick ropes of his cum spurt out, hips bucking until he has no more to give.
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our loss
masterlist
pairing: matt murdock x reader
summary: matt doesn't really know what to think, now that you're not his anymore
warnings: breakup, established relationship, sadness and grief, crying, feelings of numbness
a/n: i'm going through something. please bear with me.
Matt doesn't know what to say. How to respond. Or how to communicate his feelings; words, thoughts, desires and damnation all left unspoken.
He replays your voicemail more times than he can be bothered to count, because for the moment, it feels like that's all he has left. He knows it isn't entirely true, because you're still here â living, breathing, in the apartment two blocks down and to the left he's become so familiar with â but you're not his. Not anymore.
He knows your routine intimately, being that it's a Thursday night. Usually, you're out at dinner with one of your hometown friends, ordering the same thing every time, adorned with your favourite red lipstick that you'd leave on the sides of his neck. It scares him that he doesn't quite know what you're doing now. He could always take his cane and meander towards the city, taking a route he's committed to memory, letting his brain wander but his feet carry him subconsciously to his destination. Then, he could simply listen. Drown out the wails of the city, the hopes and dreams that manifest and shatter in the same minute.Â
He could focus on you, and the salt distilling in the air, your body-wracking sobs, or the kind of silent cry that has your mouth open in an unending, soundless scream. Maybe you've buried your face in the pillow â his pillow â clutching one of his shirts and wishing, begging, somehow, for the pain to stop.
But he won't do that.
It'd be too tempting to make his way up; hell, to scale the side of the building, just so he could hold you and remind you that you're safe, that you're loved, and that you'd have a man who'd raze the whole world at your command, Catholic values be damned.Â
Matt contemplates all of this for a second, having resigned himself to his sofa, his head propped uncomfortably against the armrest and his plaid blanket draped haphazardly over his torso. He blinks slowly, feeling the tension building in his temples and jaw, letting his hands curl and unfurl not into fists, but muscle memories of tenderness. It's like his hands know what they're missing, instinctively moving into the same positions he'd take up when holding your waist, when caressing your face.Â
He murmurs a sound, what he thinks is a butchery of your name, laying there unceremoniously as his heart squeezes over and over again, as dread and loss and grief twist in his stomach.Â
Why does it feel like every time something good happens to him, it just as quickly is taken away? He knows what you'd say â that this is untrue, that it isn't his fault, and he shouldn't beat himself up for things out of his control. But it's hard not to default to his programming in times like these. He tries to move past, to edge his thoughts along, perhaps not for himself yet, but for you.
He shuffles downwards, allowing his head to fall flat on the seat and his feet to hang off the edge of the couch. He thinks that his shivering could be attributed to the cold, or simply the fact that he doesn't really know what to do next. He's bristling, his own body unsure of whether to send blood to his muscles or his brain.
All his relationships, or the meaningful ones, at least, have crashed and burned in the sense that they failed and he moved on. It's always been simple: never hang onto one person for too long, because you're too important, you've got too much at stake to hold onto dead feelings.Â
You're different.Â
You're the ray of sunshine in his otherwise bleak life of justice and bloodstained glory, the grounding tether to the tangible world. Goodness was wrought from your warmth and love.Â
He grits his teeth, shoving down the pangs of nostalgia: of nights spent in his bed, of the softness of your lips on his skin, of the unadulterated joy you'd unearthed.
A breakup won't change the fact that you still make him whole. It won't change much, truth be told. It's the little things, however, that have begun to fall away, like the fact that he might not be privy anymore to your innermost thoughts, that you're beginning to plan your future without him in mind.
He thinks back to an analogy he once heard: one about a well-loved plate, one that's been dropped and pieced together time and time again. The plate is still round, still held together by glue that has stood the test of knives and forks, of microwaves and dishwashers, of constant use.Â
Except now, there are chips around the rim, sometimes appearing a few at a time, others days or weeks apart. They won't damage the structural integrity of the plate, and they shouldn't be used as an excuse to throw it away, but they mar its surface. Each chip is a loss in its own right, however insignificant or large. They can be repaired over time, but for now, they exist.Â
As wounding as they are, Matt needs to allow them to exist in order to move on, because dwelling on them, wanting to throw the whole dish away without recognising its beauty or resilience would be a waste. At least he thinks it's the right answer.
He reaches for his phone on the coffee table. As much as Matt finds the notion of seeking help difficult, and often irritating, the hollowness in his chest demands to be shared, to be discussed and picked at until he can't bother to dissect it anymore. He aims to call Karen because he's positive she out of all people would know just what to do, but he hits play on your voicemail again.
You're crying.Â
"Matt," you start, bursting into sobs at the mere utterance of his name. "I just... I don't even know if I want to leave you this message. I don't know what to say to you, only that I needed to say something to you." There's a shaky pause, a jagged breath, and your voice trickles to a whisper. "I loved you, Matt. I love you. I would've done anything for you. I would've gone anywhere you asked. And I don't know how to look at you without wanting more, without craving what has been and what could've been. Maybe someday it'll be different, and we can start fresh," â you hiccup, and Matt reels inwards, his lip quivering at the sheer agony in your words â "but we need time to figure that out." You sigh, plaintively.
And as he listens to your next sentence, he mouths the words in sync with you. They taste foreign, they're a sore in his mouth, but it's a kernel of light nevertheless. It's a drop of gold swirling in the inky mess of his soul.
"We'll find our way back to each other."
He whispers the next words out loud, doing his best not to talk over the voicemail version of you. "I know we will."
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just the tip, princess | matt murdock x f!reader | one-shot
masterlist | art | thoughts
summary: it's finals week. maybe a study night turn truth-or-dare is the one thing you need to finally relax.
warnings: college matt murdock, drinking (only a little), religious references (BLASPHEMY), matt's cocky personality, oral m and f receiving, protected p in v, orgasm denial, penetration denial (i think?), look there's a lot in this
a/n: in honour of all the recent dd news, i give you this: an unholy anthology of self-indulgence. that is all.
accompanying songs: so it goes⊠(taylor swift) & false god (taylor swift)
Mattâs voice breaks your concentration, tearing you away from your short-response test booklet. âOne more practice question, and then weâll take a break, deal?âÂ
You fling a hand out to the side, swatting at him absentmindedly until your finger finds its mark against his lips. âShh, Matty, one sec, let me finish this.â
He gives you a reluctant sigh as your pencil scratches away at the paper, movement flickering in the corner of your eye as he waves his hand around his feet. His fingers close around something quietly tucked away to the side of your desk, liquid sloshing in the bottle as he brings it up to his lips.
âMatthew Murdock,â you mock-gasp, eyeing him with a mix of awe and disdain, âwe have a final in two days and youâre supposed to be studying.â
He shrugs, taking another big sip.
âOh, give me that,â you chastise, reaching forward for the bottle, but he swerves out of the way haphazardly, wheels rattling as his chair thumps against the side of your bed. You turn to face him as heâs knocked off balance by the impact, tapping your pencil on your chin as you watch him feel for the mattress behind him, then as he hoists himself up on the bed.
âFoggy said we could have this to ourselves,â he chuckles, raising his eyebrows, then the bottle â âso I brought it with me.â
Your lips press together in disbelief before curling into a wry smile. âFireball, Matthew? Youâre drinking straight Fireball.â You shake your head as he tips the bottle into his mouth. âYouâre sick.â
âIt tastes goââ he rasps, fist coming up to his face as he coughs. âIt tastes good!â
You set your pencil down on the paper, eyes quickly scanning over whatâs been written, curt nod affirming your satisfaction of the response. âOkay then,â you lean forward on your knees, interlacing your fingers under your chin, âare you gonna share any? Since, yâknow, itâs for the both of us.â
He tilts his head to the side, hand coming up to wipe his mouth before nudging his glasses up the bridge of his nose. âYou want some?â
You shrug indifferently. âYeah, Iâll indulge.âÂ
You reach forward for the bottle but he yanks it backwards, head tipping back with roaring laughter.
âMatt, give it to me!â
He flashes you a shit-eating smirk as he raises his eyebrows. âYou want it that badly?â
Oh, for fuckâs sake. You hide your flustered face in your hands. âYou little shââ
He holds out the bottle in front of him, head cocked, intently listening to the shuffle of your feet against the carpet. âWell? Are you gonna come and get it?â
You huff, hand beginning to close around the bottleneck, brushing against the slippery glass where the whiskeyâs spilled down the side, but he pulls backwards again.Â
âMatthew Michael Murdock!â you bellow, watching him clutch his side as he breaks out into an infectious fit of laughter.
A sound of bewilderment. âHow do you know my middle name?!â
You scrunch your nose, slapping his knee. âIâm your best friend, silly. Itâs my job to find out.â
âFoggy told you, didnât he?â
Silence from you.
âMaybe,â you mumble.
âFoggy looked at my state ID and told you, right?âÂ
âMaybe!â you yelp, suddenly very interested in your essay.
âYou both looked at my ID?! You pickpocketed me?!â
You throw out a measly insult as you avert your gaze, face hot with embarrassment. âDonât get all preachy on me now, Murdock.âÂ
He gasps with feigned disbelief, hand curling tighter around the bottleneck as the other points to the ceiling. âDonât bring the big guy into this.âÂ
âYouâ oh! God, now I need a drink.â
Without second thought, you lunge at him, but as if he can predict your every movement, he sticks his foot out to trip you as you reach for the bottle. Suddenly, youâre a flurry of arms, movement and profanities, tumbling forward into something that breaks your fall⊠something warm, comforting, surprisingly muscular.
Not something.
Matt.
The world stops for a second as you hover on top of him, his Fireball-tinged breath mixing with yours, chest growing taut as your mouths are mere centimetres apart. It feels as if your heartbeat completely vanishes for a second, thick silence accompanied with only the sound of your stuttered breathing and the blood roaring in your head. You study the deep rise and fall of his chest, ignoring the unfamiliar feeling coursing through your veins as his arm wraps around your waist, holding you steady.Â
His tongue snakes out to wet his lips, and that movement alone sends you down to hell. Your stomach falls through your body, dampening your panties with a sudden desire you didnât think you possessed. Sure, Mattâs attractive and all, and he knows it â well, surely he has to, considering the number of people in your cohort alone who wanted to take him to bed â but youâve never looked at him that way. Heâs always been your friend, your support system. Insufferable at times.
You flick your gaze downwards to where your legs are, straddled over his hips. Youâre hovering over him, but with one little movement, just one⊠youâd be pressed up entirely against him. Youâre suspended here, unaware of how heavy your breathing has become, consumed with thoughts about your best friend that friends just⊠arenât supposed to have.
This canât happen.
Itâs an awkward shuffle as you push off him and shoot straight back into your chair, but itâs followed by the exchanging of gently stifled laughter, ice quickly broken as you take advantage of his stupor, snatching the bottle off him.Â
The liquor goes down easy. Easier than expected.
âDamn Murdock,â you say in between mouthfuls, âyouâre lucky you didnât spill any on my bed, or I wouldâve kicked your ass.â
His retort comes out fast. âI kinda wanna see you try, but youâd get in trouble.â Your eyebrow arches at the cheeky grin that proceeds. âYâknow, for beating up a blind person.â
The opportunity to stick your tongue out at him is a moment rarely passed up, and this situation changes nothing.Â
He grabs the bottle off you. âHey, stop making faces at me. I can tell by the way your mouth moves.â His attempt to mimic you falls flat, and all he has to show for it is the cutest frown.
âNot even close, Murdock.â
Nothing prepares you for the effect his resounding snort has on you; the way it makes itself home in the centre of your chest, the sweet sound sending your brain into overdrive. Youâre looking at him, big shiny eyes and all, flitting over his every breath, his every action. Fuck, itâs like heâs laced the atmosphere or something, drawing you to him like a moth to flame.Â
God fucking damn it. He always knew how to tease you, how to leave you biting back a smile, but this time, the feeling isnât irksome. Heâs getting your heartrate up, making you cross your legs, leaving you wanting to twirl your hair and kick your fucking feet together.
Thank God your roommate is away, even if for a few nights. Youâre thanking your lucky stars, because if she were here, she wouldâve made at least ten comments about how you two needed to fuck already. You can hear her voice, clear as day, echoing in your mind. âStop flirting and just do it already. Itâll probably be the best of your life.â
You clench at her latter comment, at the way sheâs so nonchalantly arrived at that conclusion. Your spine tingles at the thought, at the way you secretly want to find out for yourself.Â
Maybe all this is the result of the universe telling you to get laid.
By him.
No! Not by him.Â
You know you want it.Â
âAnyway,â you clear your throat, ignoring the angel and devil sitting on your shoulders, âI cannot believe you asked me for a break, Matt. I didnât think the word was in your vocabulary.â
Amusement glints in his laugh.
âAhh,â you start, nodding, âitâs because youâre drunk. I so knew ordinary Matty wouldnât ask for a break.â
He reaches for your hand, which you give him without a second thought, to pull you and your chair towards him, wheels turning against the carpet. Suddenly youâre close to him again, knees touching as he shakes the bottle from side-to-side. âMore drinking, less observing?âÂ
A giggle eases from your lips as you lean forwards, forehead touching against Mattâs. His skin is warm against yours, presumably from the alcohol in his system, and your lips flicker into a smile.
âWhat uh⊠what are you thinkinâ about?â he asks, tilting his chin downwards as he pushes harder against your forehead.
You bite back a yelp, fighting every instinct within you to keep your composure as his hands creep forward to interlace his fingers with yours. Every nerve in your body is firing at rates beyond your comprehension as his breath fans over your face, pearly grin tugging at the knot building behind your stomach.
âI⊠umââ The growing smile on your face does little to hide your thoughts, and you can only muster a few words as your voice comes out in a squeak. âUm⊠drink, please?âÂ
Matt lets out a breathy laugh as he pulls away, reaching down to retrieve the bottle by his feet. He brings it up to your face, nudging the lip of the bottle towards your mouth. Your toes curl at the action, thighs snapping together to curb the building throbbing between your legs, but you quickly polish off what little remains in the bottle, praying that the burn of the whiskey is distraction enough from your feelings.
It works well enough.
âSo,â Matt asks, listening to the creak in your chair as you set the empty bottle on the ground, âwhat do you wanna do?â
âHmm?âÂ
âCâmon, letâs do something. What about a game? Do you wanna play a game?â
You squint your eyes as you examine your nails, picking at invisible dirt along your cuticles. âA game, Matthew?â
âYeah. Somethinâ like⊠I dunno, truth or dare?â
âWhat are you, sixteen?â
Matt scoffs, slapping his hands on his knees. âCâmon, itâll be fun.â
That whiskey-burn âdistractionâ lasted all of thirty seconds.
The little whine in his voice widens your eyes, more so as you notice Mattâs growing smirk, and the way he tries to hide it in his hands as he waits for your answer. Youâre not sure if itâs the liquor talking or well, just you, but your answer rolls off your tongue.
âAlright Matt,â you say, getting up off your chair to sit across him on the bed, leaning against the headboard. âCare to go first?â
The bed dips as he shuffles towards you, nestling his head in your lap. âNothing would bring me a greater honour,â â a comment that makes you roll your eyes â âtruth or dare?â
âWait a second, is there a punishment if we donât want to do something?â
âWhat do you mean?â
âI mean, like, if you ask me something and I donât wanna answer it.â
âOh! I mean yeah, I guess you donât have to.â
You flash a smile at him as he relaxes his body, bending one knee as he straightens his other leg. âTruth.â
âHmm⊠lemme see.â He purses his lips together as he thinks of a question. âWhere do you see yourself in ten years?â
A wistful look dances across your face as you contemplate his question. âThatâsâ thatâs surprisingly a good question. Alright, well, still close to you and Foggy, of course. And, I dunno, maybe have my own law firm. Ooh! And I wanna travel. Europe, especially.â
Matt hums at your answer. âThatâs a lot of things.â He waits a moment before adding, âI like that about you. Youâre ambitious.â
You swallow thickly as his words brand themselves in your head. âY-your turn. Truth or dare?â
âTruth.â
âThe same question then. Where are you in ten years?
Matt grins. âStill here, in the city. And⊠I have a law firm. Itâs called Nelson and Murdockâ â he brandishes an invisible sign in the air before continuing â âAttorneys at Law.â Your heart skips a beat at his earnest confession.
He goes quiet. âI, uh, I just wanna do whatâs right, yâknow?â
âYeah, Matt,â you whisper. âIâm excited to see where this all takes you. And itâs sweet that you and Foggy picked that out already.â
Matt beams, in no particular direction. âAlright. Your turn again. Truth or dare?â
You hesitate for a second. âDare.â
âAw, but Iâm so comfy lying here.âÂ
You hiss at him as you pinch his shoulder.Â
âFine, fine. Okay. I dare you to⊠tell me a secret youâve never told anyone.â
âMatthew Murdock, is that not a thinly veiled truth?â
He reaches behind him to pat your thigh, biting his lip at your discovery.
Oh, youâre gonna make him regret being lazy. You contort yourself over him, leaning down into his ear. âWhen I was in high school, I snuck a friend of mine in through the window and weâŠâ you drop your voice, whispering the rest of your story, dragging out every syllable so the words stick in his mind.
His face reddens at your admission, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he tries to find the words, but they don't come out. Your next words are laced with the smugness of your previous efforts. âYou go now.â
âI choose dare.â
âI dare you to call Foggy and say youâre madly in love with him.â
Matt erupts into laughter. âYouâre not serious.â
âFeel my heartbeat, Matthew.â You pick up a hand from where theyâre folded on his chest, lifting his palm towards you. Your eyes lull back in your head as he flattens his hand against the left side of your chest, voice shaking as you speak. âSee, Matthew? Steady.â
He sits up in a flash, holding his palm outstretched as you hand him his phone, Foggyâs number already dialling.Â
Loud music blares over the phone speaker. âHello? Matt? You okay?â
âYeah, yeah, everythingâs fine, umââ
âMatt, youâre gonna have to speak up a little.â A womanâs voice calls out Foggyâs name.
Matt clears his throat, raising his voice just a little. He bites his lip, tilting his head away from your snicker. âI love you, Foggy.â
âOh man! I love you too, buddy.â
You nudge Matt to say the words. âNo, no, I mean, I love you.â
âI love you too!â
âNo!â Matt pushes his hair back, exasperated. âI mean, Iâm in love with you.â
A moment of silence fills the air.
That womanâs voice again. âFoggy, is everything okay?â
âYeah yeah,â â Foggy says to the woman, before focusing back on Matt. âUm⊠everything alright with you, Matt?â
âYes! I loâ Everythingâs fine. Iâll just⊠I'll see you tomorrow.âÂ
The phone clicks off without another word.
âOops,â you tease, words slurring a little, âsounds like someone has some explaining to do.â
Matt cracks his knuckles before placing his phone back on your desk. âOh I am definitely going to get you back.â
.
Sprawled vertically on the bed with your legs hanging off the edge, you lay shoulder-to-shoulder with Matt, the contents of the Fireball bottle already long gone. Your hands are clasped together on your chest as your eyelids flutter closed, content in Mattâs presence. The last couple hours were the most fun you had in a long time, and God knows you deserve it, especially after this semester.
Matt is the first to break your temporary silence, words quiet as he directs them towards the ceiling. âSo, you think Foggy and Marci are gonna last?âÂ
âI dunno Matt, I think your little confession there mightâve broken them for good.â
A half-smile blossoms across his lips. âYou know what? I wouldnât blame Foggy for picking me. I am loveable after all.â
âYou are very loveable. Even my roommate thinks so.â
âReally? Her? I didnât think she could love anyone.â
âYep,â you sigh, stretching your arms out and putting your hands behind your head. âShe loves you so much she thinks that we should get together. Sorry, I mean, that we shouldâ â you lower your voice â âhook up, for lack of a better⊠less rude⊠word.â A shiver runs through your body at what youâve just said.
Mattâs on his side in a nanosecond, facing you as he props himself up on one elbow. His expression is unreadable, mouth tight-lipped as he cocks his head to the side.
You take it as a cue to keep going. âSheâs always saying it, seriously. I think she tells people in the hallway, too. And I think Foggy knows? But I havenât really given it much thââ
âWould that⊠would that be the worst thing?â
Your eyebrows furrow together, face flooding with confusion. âHuh?â
Matt goes on. âI mean, people donât really say stuff like that if they donât mean it, right?â
It takes a full minute for you to register what heâs saying, and you move quickly to respond as the heat begins to bloom in your chest again. âOh trust me, she says a lot of things she doesnât mean.â
âNo, but, would it really be the worst thing in the world?â
You shudder, every subsequent breath getting heavier. âWhat are you asking me?â
You watch as Mattâs nostrils flare, as his tongue peeks out to lick his lips again. Youâre mirroring him, in the same position that he is, propped up and lying on your side. He lifts a finger to your arm on top, tracing your skin from elbow to shoulder with a featherlight touch. It loosens a gasp that comes from your chest.
âIâm asking you⊠if it would be the worst thing in the world.â Something shifts in Mattâs face, and he looks uneasy now. âWhat ifâŠâ â he lowers his voice to a whisper â âI wanted to⊠do that with you?â
No fucking way.
âDo⊠what? Matt, where is this coming from?â
He tentatively shuffles closer to you, but still keeping a far enough distance that you can roll away if you need to. âYour roommateâs right. I think we should stop pretending.â
No. Fucking. Way.
âMatt, of course it would be the worst thing in the world. I mean, okay, not the worst thing, but sex can ruin friendships. And câmon, Iâm not ready to lose you.â Your breath hitches in your throat as you get the words out. âBesides, Iâveâ Iâve never thought of you like that.â
âThatâs a lie.â
You suck your cheeks in, the silence louder than anything you couldâve said to defend yourself. A shit-eating grin appears on his face. âYouâve been thinking about me like that tonight, havenât you?â
Damn you, Matthew Murdock. âFine. I have. Is that what you want to hear?â
He sits upright now, smirk disappearing, tilting his chin towards the ground as he plays off a nervous chuckle. Itâs as if your answer isnât what he was expecting. âLook, I justâ I like you, okay? Iâve had a really great night, and Iâ I donât want to do anything to ruin that. Or our friendship. So, itâsâ donât worry about it.â
He reaches for his cane, neatly folded on your desk, but you make a split-second decision, feeling your heartbeat race as you grab his wrist and tug him back onto the bed. âWhat ifâŠâÂ
He raises his eyebrows, beckoning you to continue. âWhat if we, um, I donât know, this is gonna sound stupid but, what if we explored this using the game? Using truth or dare?â You wait a moment to read his expression. âThat way itâs just a game right? And it wonât mean anything, unless we want it to.â
âThatâsâ thatâs good. Thatâs smart. I like that,â he nods. âAnd we can end the game at any time.â
You affirm what heâs saying. âYes, if thereâs something either of us donât want to do, we can say the word.â
âWait,â you pause. âIâ maybe that was stupid. I think weâre both drunk.â
Matt furrows his eyebrows. âIâm not drunk.â
You bite your lip, answering him quietly. âNeither am I.â
âOkay, then.â
âOkay.â
âYou wanna⊠go first?â Matt gulps.
Your chest caves inwards, heart thundering so hard it feels like it could burst out of your ribcage. âTruth or dare?â
âDare.â
Your knees go weak at the word. âI dare you to⊠come closer to me.â
Matt pauses for a moment to take his glasses off, setting them down on your desk. Then, he turns towards your voice, laying down to face you where youâre still propped up, where youâve been this entire time. The only difference is that heâs close now, so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body, and the way his breath flutters against your lips. âTruth or dare?â
âTruth,â you murmur.
âWhen was the first time you⊠thought of me like that?â
A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you recall the memory. âIt was the first year of college, when Foggy tried to hit on me and you apologised for his behaviour.â
Matt grimaces. âIâm sorry about that⊠again, and so is Foggy. But thatâs⊠wait a minute,â his eyes narrow, âthat was forever ago!â He presses his lips into a choked laugh as you punch his arm.
Ignoring him, your stomach starts to flip as you ask Matt the next question. âTruth or dare?â
His mouth moves into a cheeky grin. âDare.â
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckâ âI dare you to kiss me.â
The butterflies roil in your stomach as he smiles at you earnestly, bringing one hand up to cup your jaw. His grip is firm, melding to the contours of your face with a surprising ease. He holds you there for a second as he blows a soft chuckle your way, flooding your face with a heat that crawls up your body. He leans forward, slowly, melting his lips against yours, so softly that you canât fight the moan that slips from your mouth.Â
The kiss is everything you ever imagined it would be, his mouth moulding to yours in a way that turns your legs to jelly. He nips affectionately at your bottom lip, using your slight surprise to slip his tongue against yours; the taste of Fireball so, so faint.Â
âOh my God,â you breathe, breaking the kiss, your foreheads still touching, his hand still on your jaw.Â
âOh my God,â Matt affirms, eyes squeezed shut as he loosens a breath.Â
âI pick dare,â you whisper, biting your lip as Matt reciprocates your shy smile.Â
âOkay, I dare you toâŠ,â he pauses for a second, pursing his lips, âtell me what you want.â
âThat isnât a dare.â
Heâs insistent. âTell me what you want.â
âYou, Matt. I want you.â
His nostrils flare in response, tips of his ears going pink as he nods, leaning in to kiss you again. Tangling one hand in your hair, he flattens his other palm against your collarbone, mouth roving over your jaw, then trailing down your neck, sucking on a sensitive spot near your shoulder that makes you moan. Your hands press against his chest, relishing in the way he grunts at your touch.Â
âMatthew,â you groan into his hair, as he soothes the bruise on your neck with his tongue, âI want to take your clothes off.â
âYou wanna take my clothes off?âÂ
âMmhm.â And another moan as he guides you to lay flat on your back.Â
âThatâs not a dare either.â
âI know what I said.â
He doesnât waste any time in tugging his shirt over his head, leaving only his leather-corded crucifix hanging around his neck, metal cross dangling off his chest as he moves down to kiss you. Youâre breathless, unable to speak, utterly incoherent as he grinds himself into your core, the evidence of his growing arousal straining against his sweatpants.
âDamn you, Matthew,â you exhale, pulling your own shirt over your head, unhooking your bra and throwing it to the side.Â
âWhat?â he moans, hands moving over your skin, your breasts now bare to him.Â
You yelp as he rolls your nipples in his fingers, expression darkening as he acquaints himself with your body, the way you buck your hips up into his. âYouâre soââ
âLoveable?â
Your head tips back with a cry as his mouth seals around your nipple, tongue flicking against the hardened peak. âNoâ well, yes, but fuck youâre just⊠how long have you been hiding that⊠body underneath those pullovers? Has anyone told you how good you look?â
âI may or may not have heard that a few times.â
You smirk as his mouth meets yours. âFoggy doesnât count.â
âIn that case,â he rasps in your ear, deft fingers trailing up your inner thigh to then unclasp the button of your jeans, âyou can be my first.â
Your lips move over his chest as the words flutter into his skin, catching the cross in your teeth. You yank at it lightly, the strained breath he gives you music to your ears. âOh Matthew, now youâre giving me the honour.âÂ
Mouth curving upwards, Matt hooks his hands into the waistband of your jeans and panties simultaneously, taking his sweet time in dragging the fabric down your legs, exposing you, inch-by-inch until youâre completely bare for him.Â
Even though the two of you were close before this, closer than most friends were, it feels⊠jarring to expose yourself like this. With other guys, you wouldnât hesitate; youâd keep going, get them undressed, have your fun and be done with it, but itâs not like that with Matt.Â
Heâs one of the few people that makes you nervous.
Your legs instinctively move closer to cover yourself but he wedges a hand in between your knees.Â
Oh, heâs good. He knows, somehow, what youâre feeling.
So he says something that knocks any semblance of your apprehension on its head, something that makes you throb.
âKeep âem open. I want you spread for me.â
You surge upwards, the intensity of his words spurring you on, pressing wet kisses down his chest. One to his crucifix, one to his sternum, one in the middle of hisâ Jesus Christ, those abs. He cards his fingers through your hair at the sensation of your tongue dragging up his navel before nipping at his jaw, stubble scratching at your mouth. Your pussy floods at the guttural moan he makes as your fingers graze over the outline of his cock, the idle circle you trace on his head making him twitch. Your lips meet his as you replace your fingers with your palm, shuddering at the string of dirty curses he groans into your mouth.Â
You pull away only to marvel at the size of him under your hand, every thick inch of him tenting painfully against his sweatpants. Foggy had mentioned in passing that Matt was packing, but this? Oh, you didnât expect this.Â
âMatty,â you exhale, âlet me taste you.â
He raises a hand to your chin, tilting your head back with his grip to deepen his next kiss. âAnything you want.â
You latch your fingers onto the elastic waistband of his sweatpants and his boxers underneath, pulling it down to his mid-thighs, unable to contain your gasp as his cock springs free. Your eyes pulsate at the sight of him, pupils completely blown as you take him in his entirety, perfection as youâve ever seen from base to tip.Â
You lick first at the precum beading at the head, the salty taste of him coating your tastebuds as he bucks his hips involuntarily onto your outstretched tongue, eyes lulling in the back of your head at the primal sound that escapes his lips. You look up at him with your doe-eyes, watching a muscle feather in his jaw as you wrap your lips around him, flicking your tongue over his tip. He caresses your face with his hands, fingers supporting your jaw as you take all of him in. He hisses as he finds the back of your throat, throwing his head back in ecstasy as you begin to bob your head, not caring that youâre sloppy, that the spit is dribbling from your mouth all over him. From the way heâs grunting your name, you donât think he minds either.
Matt hums your name dulcetly as you begin to use your mouth and hands in tandem, begging you to let go of his cock, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you as you pull away to wipe your mouth.Â
âLay down on your back,â he commands softly, making quick work of shedding the only pieces of clothing left on his body. He kneels for you on the bed as you shuffle back, spreading your legs for him once again. Itâs from this angle that your mouth goes dry; the sight of his glistening cock, wet from your spit, ready for the taking.
He leans down to nip at your earlobe as he traces himself up and down your folds, slapping your clit with his cock once. He chuckles deeply in your ear at the mewl you make, purring for you to make the sound again.Â
So you do.
âCondom, Matthew,â you whisper, breath caught in your throat as you reach over to your nightstand, but he grabs a hold of your wrist and shakes his head.
Your eyes widen at his answer. âI donât need it just yet.â
He hovers over you for a second, just long enough for you to catch his crucifix in your teeth again, before moving down, settling in between your thighs. Youâre sucking your cheeks in at his hot breath against your dripping pussy, so slick with arousal that the air is thick with it, but he doesnât do anything. He just grins.
He tilts his chin upwards to grin at you, the gesture a little mirthless; a predator about to devour their prey. The metal cross swings with his movements, and you almost bite through your bottom lip as it hits against your clit.
âNot so much a godly man now, are you Matthew? I didnât think you were allowed to do⊠this,â you smirk, squeezing your eyes shut as he pinches your clit with his thumb and forefinger.
âI get a pass, yâknow, since I get to make an angel feel good.â
A shaky laugh escapes your lips. âMatty⊠you donât meanââ
He cuts you off, his sweet tone darkening in an instant. âBut since you bring it up, yeah, Iâm no saint.â He lifts your hips, shoving his hands under your ass as he brings your pussy to his face.
âBut out of all the sins in the world, all that we couldâve chosen to commitâŠâ he clicks his tongue, nostrils flaring as he inhales your scent, âI promise, sweetheart, this one will feel the best.â
And with that, he dives into you.Â
Youâre a squirming mess on his tongue as he licks a broad stripe up your centre, tasting all that you have to offer. He seals his lips around your clit, flicking and sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves, until your back is arched off the bed, until youâre gasping and unable to stop the moans breaking from within.Â
Mattâs always been polite, classy, the perfect person to bring home to meet your parents, but the way heâs slurping at you like youâre his last meal on earth?Â
âNaughty, naughty boy,â you purr, grabbing a fistful of his hair as he slips his tongue inside you. Youâre grinding into his face at this point, desperate to be filled, to be stretched out, desperate to cum for him as many times as you can.Â
Your muscles go taut as you near the edge, the threads of your willpower unravelling to one final, fraying strand. He knows it too, that sly bastard, and breaks away from you with one final kiss to your clit.
âNot yet,â he grins, licking wet circles up your thigh.Â
âGoddamn you, Murdock,â you huff, pulling him up by the shoulders until heâs breathing down your face.Â
He runs his thumb over the seam of your lips, nudging you for entry. He grits his teeth as you flick your tongue against the pad of his finger, while reaching into your nightstand for a condom. He smirks as you slap the foil packet against your hand a few times, groaning as he pumps himself with his fist. That shit-eating, stomach-stirring smirk grows bigger as he hears you rip the packet open, then as you slide the condom out of the wrapper.Â
Mattâs hand is outstretched, beckoning for the piece of latex held between your fingers, but you smack it away, wiping all the smug off his face. The moan he murmurs as you squeeze his heavy cock in your hand makes your walls flutter; it makes you ache with the idea of him fucking up into you as deep as he can.
He shudders, sharply exhaling as you roll the condom onto him, then as you tease your slick entrance with the blunt head of his cock.
âWe canât go back from this,â you mumble, breath stuttering as you coat him in your arousal.
His chest heaves with the thought of you, wrapped around him, saying his name like a prayer. âIâm pretty sure itâs a little too late, yâknow, considering what weâve already done.âÂ
He coaxes the tiniest whimper from your mouth as his fingers brush over your clit.
âHear me out, MattyâŠâ you start, flattening your palms against his chest.
âYes, angel?â
âWhat if⊠what if you justâŠâÂ
He presses a chaste kiss to your lips. âJust what? Whatever you want, angel. Iâll give it to you.â
Your breath catches in your throat. âI dare youâŠâ â you linger your fingertip on the curve of his jaw, before tracing his shoulder â âto put just the tip in me.â
âFirst of all, weâre still doing that? The game?âÂ
You shrug nonchalantly.
âSecondly, just the tip? You know that still counts as sex, right?â
âNo it doesnât.â
âOkay, Iâll put it in and you tell me that doesnât count.â His smug smirk that follows spurs you to punch him in the arm.
âAlright Matthew, weâll see about that.â
âI promise,â he rasps in your ear, teasing himself at your entrance, pushing the slightest bit of himself in, just to make you squeal, âIâll have you begging for more.â
Your resounding yelp is poorly masked, and it only makes his coy smile grow larger. Youâve known for a long time that Matt was a bit of a manwhore, but he was always so⊠innocent around you. Never, never in a million years did you think he was capable of⊠this.Â
You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, chest heaving as he grunts your name, propping a pillow under your hips. âJust the tip, Matthew.âÂ
He leans his weight onto the forearm bracketing your head. âJust the tip, princess.â
You hiss through your teeth as he pushes into you, words transcending you in that moment at the burn of this thick cock stretching you out. You expect the burn to follow through, waiting for the sensation of being oh-so-deliciously full of him, but he moves only a little, only until just the tip of him sits inside you. Oh fucking hell. There is absolutely no way youâre going to let him win this one.
Relaxing your grip on his shoulders, you bite back the exhale that conveys your need, forcing back the urge to squirm on his cock for the friction you so desperately want.Â
âGod,â he grunts, âIâm barely inside you and you feel so⊠fucking good.âÂ
You allow yourself one breathy moan. Just one.Â
Youâre doing so well, keeping it together, showing absolutely no indication that you need him guts deep inside you, pounding at a pace that shakes the bed.
But then he starts to move.
Cock twitching in your heat, he jerks his hips so lightly, pressing his head into your warmth, before sliding out until he barely remains inside. He repeats the movement, his half-shudder half-chuckle evidence that heâs noticed the way youâre clenching around him, or the way youâre sitting upright, peering down to see where exactly heâs joined to you.
Heâs painfully hard for you, latex glistening with the sheen of your arousal. You tilt your hips upwards to get a better angle, watching as he withdraws himself just that bit further, before thrusting into you; the sight of your folds enveloping his cock enough to make you curse.Â
Abs contracting, and every cord of muscle in his arms going tight, you can tell heâs holding back. You can tell by the redness that blooms in his cheeks and the vast expanse of his chest that he wants more. That he needs more, needs to be deeper; so far inside you that all he could fall apart at any second. You watch where the thick head of his cock enters you, sliding in and out deliriously slow, and thatâs when the silence breaks.Â
All that heavy breathing, those controlled yet shaky stutters as your mouths are pulled apart by pleasure, is interrupted with your drawn out groan as he pushes the next inch into you. Only one inch. One delicious inch.
âFuck, Matty,â you moan at the sudden fullness, tipping your head back as he flares his nostrils, grunting your name in response to your walls fluttering around him.
It â he â feels so goddamn good, but it isnât enough. God, for someone who begged to be teased this exact way youâre impatient, so fucking impatient, but you need to find purchase. With every thrust of his hips, the hope â no, the demand â that he says âfuck itâ and sheathes himself fully inside you grows, from a dull ache to one that utterly throbs; one that sends reverberating shockwaves through every nerve in your body.Â
He was right. Of fucking course heâd be right. Matthew, ever-clever, devastatingly handsome, Mr. âI just know youâll need more of meâ was almost never wrong.
Matt slides his lips down by your ear, voice dropping to a bare whisper as he tangles his fingers in your hair. âLet me fuck you properly, please. I donât care about the game, I just⊠I need you.â He lifts one of your legs up, hooking his arm around your thigh, opening you up to him even more.
âCâmon then Matty,â you smirk, flicking your tongue against his lips. âShow me what you got.â
The cry that heaves from your chest as he slams himself into you is nothing short of unholy. He moans your name sinfully as he buries himself to the hilt, hips stuttering as he jerks involuntarily, nudging against that spot inside you that threatens to break you in an instant. You whine at the sudden loss of fullness as he retracts himself, to the point where only the tip of him remains, but he fills you again, the pain from his cock stretching you out giving way to ecstasy. It doesnât take long for you to splinter around him, for your back to arch as you flood his cock with an earth-shattering orgasm.
And in between his steady thrusts and his languid kisses, he pins your legs back, placing one hand on your waist while the other grazes your throat. His pace is ruthless now, all grunts and groans as he works to bring you to the edge once⊠no, twice more. This must be what heaven feels like.Â
Your legs turn to jelly as he lifts your legs up straight, crossing your ankles over, holding them there as he bites his lip, the new position turning your pussy into a vice. A vice that wants to milk him bone dry. âSo⊠fuckinâ.... tight for me, angel,â he musters, panting as every drag of his cock against your walls brings you both closer and closer to falling apart.Â
Just as youâre about to cum for him again, he pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach, hoisting your ass up in the air.Â
âMattyâŠâ you groan, as he tangles his fingers in your hair, kissing your back as he fucks you, relishing the feeling of your sweat-slick skin on his in the most intimate way possible.Â
âIâm not gonna last much longer,â he murmurs, kneading your ass, spreading you apart so he can be as deep in you as possible. You lean back into him, arm reaching around to grab the back of his neck; the movement exposing your throat for his hand to grab. Heâs getting sloppy, eyes squeezed shut as you near the edge together.
âFuck, angelâŠâ he pants, holding you tighter, spilling into you with a sound that turns your world to white. You pulsate around his cock as his hips stutter into yours to give you every last drop.
He collapses into you, holding you tightly, listening just to the sound of your breathing. âI know we said it wouldnât mean anything butâŠâÂ
Your voice comes out in a squeak as he kisses your shoulder softly. âBut?âÂ
A moment of hesitation. âI dunno, that was too good for a once-off game.â
Your mouth curves into a cheeky grin. âMatthew Murdock, pussywhipped already? I didnât pick you for the type.â
He bites down on your shoulder, smug at your yelp that follows. âWho says it was just tonight that had me pussywhipped?â
You scoff, pushing him off you to sit upright and poke his collarbone. âHang on a second, was this all some⊠twisted grand gesture of affection?â
âNo! No, I swear, I didnât plan any of this.â
âAlright, Matty, I believe you.â
He laughs nervously, running his tongue over his teeth.
âMatthew,â you start, sitting up on your knees to throw your hands around his neck. âWe just had sex. You donât have to be nervous to ask me out.â
A shy smile creeps across his face, red blooming in his cheeks. âIâm not nervousââ
You cut him off with a taunting giggle. âYes, Matthew, Iâll go on a date with you. Of course I will.â A beat, and you poke him in the collarbone again. âSo nervous and for what?â
He chuckles lowly, the sound pooling in your core, shaking your arms off him to pounce on you, to lay you flat on your back. âDo I have to do something dramatic to shut you up?â
Thereâs no mistaking the growing heat between your legs. âMaybe.â
He leans down to nip at your earlobe, smirking against your ear. âAlright then.â
.
Youâre awoken to Mattâs elbow in your face and a string of profanities as he scrambles to get under the sheets, laying as still as possible with his head in your thigh.Â
âWhatâs going on?â you hiss, pulling the covers up over your naked chest.Â
Your eyes widen as the doorknob to your room turns, faint voices echoing in the hallway outside. âHow the fuck did you hear that?â you panic, nudging Matt with your elbow.Â
Itâs Foggyâs voice that sounds the closest, although heâs still muffled by the door. â... Yeah, he was saying some weird stuff to me last night and he wasnât home when I got back so I figured theyâve passed out studying together.â
Then your roommate. âYeah, studying, sure. Itâs about time theyââÂ
âOh shit.â Foggy gasps dramatically as your knuckles turn white gripping the sheets, surveying the room before him. Nevermind that your thin sheets do absolutely nothing in concealing the obvious outline of Mattâs body; the multiple open condom packets on the ground and the empty bottle of Fireball is evidence enough. Mattâs head pops up from under the covers, his sheepish smile directed at no one in particular. Â
Your roommate clasps her hands, smirking as she shakes her head. âI told you, Foggy.â
Foggyâs vacant expression is startled away as his eyes narrow in on the crucifix still hanging from Mattâs neck. âDo not tell me you left that on while you had sex. Whyâd you have to bring the big guy into this?â He steps backwards, holding his hands up. âYou know what? Iâm outta here. Iâll see youâ â he points at Matt â âlater.â
Your roommate follows Foggy outside a second later, calling out to you as the door shuts softly. âCan you two get dressed? I have an exam in two hours.â
You giggle, pressing a tender kiss to Mattâs lips before whispering in his ear. âSurely thereâs time for a little more?â
âOh sweetheart,â he grins, âabsolutely.â
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if the tide takes california
masterlist
pairing: frank castle + mentions of reader
summary: frank spends time contemplating if he's deserving of your love
warnings: angst, hurt (with comfort), mentions of grief and loss, frank being a little sad
a/n: i wrote this in one cathartic hour, please cry with me. ok love you
song pairing: til forever falls apart (ashe ft finneas)
And that's a wrap! Thank you for tuning in today to 6NEWS Radio, late night edition. The time is currently 9 PM and we hope you have a good night, wherever you are.
"Damn interference," Frank mutters. He grits his teeth, cursing as he bends forwards to twist the volume knob down. He knows he should be minutely grateful for any service at all, considering that he's out in the middle of nowhere, forty miles from the nearest backwater town, but his tolerance still wanes to a sliver.
Sighing, Frank goes to rub his temples, remembering why it is he has the radio on in the first place. It's because he'd rather the distraction than to be alone with his thoughts.
For now.
Pushing the reminder aside, he tightens his grip on the pair of binoculars in his lap, bringing them up to his eyes. He's done a good job choosing this location. From where he is, the van is completely hidden --- concealed in a copse of trees right opposite the compound. It's a cloudless, starry night; beautiful, if it weren't for the assholes across the way. He'd run out of fingers before he'd get halfway through the gang leader's rap sheet.
He's been casing them for a week. And very soon --- Frank glances at the time on his phone --- the lights would turn on, girls and gang members arriving in hordes, and maybe, just maybe, he'd finally get to meet the head of this operation. Then, they'd have a little exchange, man-to-man.
That, of course, involves Frank being the only one of them to get out of the compound alive.
He inhales sharply, licking his lips as he continues to survey the area.
When he measures the situation in his head, taking every decision and every course of action required to execute his plan, it's simple. Easy. It's all he knows, and it makes sense.
So why is it so difficult when it comes to you?
Frank scoffs at himself, as if to say, "No, not again." Not tonight. There's a dangerous edge to his behaviour, one he continues to sharpen with every passing minute he's in this van. He purses his lips, casting aside the hollowness in his chest, the void worming its way into his heart.
The radio crackles, and a small noise sounds from the back of his throat. Thank fuck it's music now playing. He couldn't bear a single second more of that aimless, idiotic talk show.
There's a bitter taste in his mouth as he recalls that anger, the sheer turmoil within, just from listening to those people talk. He digs his boots into the footwell, his knuckles going white as the radio presenter's voice echoes in his head. He narrows his eyes, because how can people be so⊠carefree? How could they laugh about concert tickets and the best pie in town and harmless pranks when he has to do this?
He could've turned the radio off, and let silence fill the cracks in his environment, but some small part of him wanted to listen. Not just for a desperate glimpse into a "normal" life, but at the sweet, gut-wrenching agony it caused --- knowing he can't be a part of it, and pain is a healthy reminder he's alive.
It's a fair assumption to say that most people would run from his burden, or at least try to bury it with the rest of their closeted skeletons, but Frank can't. And he never will.
Because he can't count on anyone else. If it isn't for him, then the scum of the earth walk free.
Emotions are messy. Futile. At least guns served a purpose, no matter what that asshole in red told him. It was uncomplicated this way --- put one bad guy down, then the next. Put 'em where they belong, and they wouldn't reoffend.
Sometimes, Frank feels almost insulted that no-one sees it this way.
He puts the binoculars down, wringing his hands as he checks the time again. He allows himself to breathe in deeply, to fill his lungs with air, before turning up the volume on the radio. It's crackly, but better than before, and instead of overlapping voices, it's a mindless, endless drone of music.
He's not fussed about what comes on, as long as he can concentrate on the mission. At the end of the day, that's all that matters. Or so he convinces himself.
He rubs his eyes, listening to the words of the next song. He doesn't care for the melody, or that the singer has the kind of voice that'd smooth over the bumps in his soul, but something about the lyrics perks his ears.
âŠDreaming in a world that we both know is out of our control
A muscle feathers in his jaw as he contemplates turning the radio off completely, but he stays his hand. He can't tell if it's a matter of internal torture again --- a yearning for something he, as the Punisher, could never have --- or that just this once, it's a song worth listening to.
But if shit hits the fan we're not alone, 'cause you've got me and you know
That I've got you and I know
The thought of you hits him like a blow to the stomach, a twisting, red-hot knife in the embers of his fury.
If he's right about emotions, then why does your presence make him feel whole? Why is he thinking about you, three states away, before another life-threatening mission?
Frank grimaces, feeling his face contort into something that'd scare him if he looked in a mirror. He knows what he'll see, and it won't just be the husk of the man he used to be. He doesn't know if he could stand to see himself longing for yet another person who'd be better off without him.
If the tide takes California, I'm so glad I got to hold 'ya
And if the sky falls from heaven above, oh, I know I had the best time falling into love
He swallows, blowing out a shaky breath, not knowing what to do next.
But it seems that you do.
'Your voice was the only thing that got me out of bed today.'
Frank looks down at your text, torment lining every heartbeat.
'Please come back to me.'
He keeps staring, frozen in place, unsure if he's worthy of your concern. Of your love.
His shoulders tense at the image of you, staying up late with him on your mind. These are feelings he's associated with danger, with grief and loss, and he's unsure if he'd be willing to go through it again. Frank hasn't allowed himself to feel in years, and for so long, he's been better off being that way.
We've been living on a fault line, and for a while, you were all mine
I've spent a lifetime giving you my heart, I swear that I'll be yours forever
'Til forever falls apart
"'Til forever falls apart," Frank murmurs to himself, thinking back to the last time he made that commitment to someone, just before his world imploded before his eyes.
"Stupid fuckin' song," he says, shaking his head, but he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.
He opens your messages, feeling his gaze tentatively soften, and taps on your contact information. He's presented with options to reply, to call you, or to delete your number and move on, just so he can spare one more innocent soul.
His finger hovers over the screen, hesitating, and his eyes glaze over, trancelike from the song.
His instincts scream that it's a mistake to get involved, but maybe, just this onceâŠ
You pick up after the first ring, a sudden flood of relief calming your firing nerves.
Frank clears his throat. "Your voice is the only thing gettin' me through today."
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hi babes!! may I request the smut prompt â if you called just to get off on my voice, iâm hanging up. â for matt please??? <3333
ahhhhh sil thank you so much for this delicious request! in fact, you and @marvelswh0re sent in the same one ;) and oh my god, this was absolutely heavenly to work on.
let's have a sleepover at mine!
gasp | matt murdock x reader
Matt doesnât know whatâs gotten into him today.Â
Hand slipping past the waistband of his boxers to palm his hardening cock, he navigates himself to your contact on his phone, pressing dial. He brings a fist up to his mouth to stifle his groan as you pick up on the third ring, greeting him with an enthusiastic chirp.
âHowâs your day, sweetheart?â he asks softly, running his thumb over the tip of his cock.
He nods as you reply, telling him about your busy, boring workday, painfully hard as he allows himself to get lost in the sound of your voice. He fucks his hand with long, languid strokes, grip just a little lighter than how he normally would jerk off, mimicking your featherlight touch.Â
âI love hearing your voice,â he whispers, voice low and husky, chest tightening as he squeezes his shaft, upping his pace just a little. Heâs that close to whimpering as you giggle over the phone, talking to him about how much you miss him, and how excited you are to come home.Â
It feels sinful â wicked, almost â that heâs jerking himself off to your voice, unbeknownst to you as you go on about your day. The thought of being caught in the act makes him fist his cock harder, ragged breathing getting more and more difficult to mask.
âThatâsâ thatâs nice, sweetheart,â he pants, as you finish up a story about your coworker, throwing his head back into the couch, nearing the edge as he pumps himself faster.
âMatty?â Concern laces your voice for only a second.Â
âYeah?â he chokes, using his other hand to pull down the front of his boxer briefs. He wouldnât allow the fabric to restrict his movements anymore.
Realisation settles in you, widening your eyes. âMatt. If you called just to get off on my voice, Iâm hanging up.â
âPlease, baby,â he rasps, âneed⊠you⊠so fuckinâ bââ His cum shoots out in messy, thick ropes as he ruts into his hand, bucking his hips into his curled fingers, muscles tensing as release overcomes his entire body.
âNeed you so bad,â he murmurs at the sound of the dial tone.
His ears perk up as your follow-up text sounds aloud. âYou better be ready for me when I get home.â
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congrats rhi!!! well deserved đđŒđ
đœ - matt and frank are on the brain. what if you tried going on a date with them?? and they're making each other jealous, which eventually leads to all three of you breaking the bed in matt's apartment đ
nik baby, thank you so much for this ask. i am so sorry it took so long, BUT i needed it to be absolutely perfect, and i think ive done it. it was absolute perfection, a joy to work on, and clearly you know me so well because this is one of my favourite things to write EVER and i will die on this hill!!!! i love you and thank you for your incredible request <3
winner's streak | frank castle x f!reader x matt murdock
masterlist
summary: you've had a little thing for your neighbours for the longest time. what's the worst that can happen when you ask them both on a date and turn it into a little friendly competition?
warnings: matt & frank roommate au, voyeurism/public exhibition, couple blind jokes, fingering, oral m and f receiving, unprotected p in v, spanking, choking, etc bruh there's so many i cant
THIS IS A LONG ASS FIC (9K WORDS DONT KILL ME) BUT PLEASE ENJOY AND REBLOGS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED
Your groan reverberates against the iron door, echoing into the empty space of the stairwell.
ROOFTOP CLOSED, the paper sign reads, FOR SCHEDULED MAINTENANCE.
Itâs impossible for your eyes to roll any further back. Of all days this rooftop is closed, why does it have to be today?
The notice scrunches in your hand as you pull it free from the door, shoving it down into your bag. Youâre already annoyed about making the trek up to the rooftop, but thankfully itâs a quick trip back downstairs, and youâre outside on the fire escape in no time. The balmy afternoon wind flushes hot against your face, thin metal railing digging into your forearms as you lean forward, but your chest falls gracefully with the deep exhale that carries with it any negativity.
Youâre grateful for the quiet. Besides the occasional siren, youâre high enough that you can barely hear the commotion of the streets â a rarity in this city â and apart from your noisy neighbours to the left, itâs pretty tranquil here.
Keeping an ear out for anyone disturbing your peace, you scout the apartments to either side of you, listening to the ambient sounds and whatever the street below has to offer. Nothing today; nothing except for the brush of wind rustling the trees and dislodging those clumsily pinned flyers you hate. Good.
With no one home around you, and weather almost too perfect for tanning, your hand snakes up your spine to where the strings of your bikini top lay, tied in a careless knot that comes undone in one tug. The summer heat hits your bare chest with a ferocity that surprises you, but you close your eyes and tip your head back, allowing the sunâs warmth to wash over your face and cascade down your body.
But then, it shoots straight at you; a whistling arrow that lodges itself into the centre of your chest. Itâs the sound of a breath catching; an inhale so sharp you might mistake it for a hiss. Your head whips to the side.
âFrank,â you seethe, hands flying up to where youâre exposed.
He croaks out your name as your eyes level into his, bewildered stare parting his mouth in an âoâ. He doesnât know where to look as you muster a fake smile, tilting your head to the side so saccharinely you feel him cave inwards.
Frankâs body is still square to yours as he looks up to the sky. âNice uh⊠sunny day, right?â
You scoff, arms tightening around your chest. âCut the shit, Frank. Were you spying on me?â
His nostrils flare as he grips his coffee mug, knuckles turning white to the point where you think itâs going to break.
âWell?â you deadpan, a muscle twitching in your jaw.
He sputters at your question, and then it dawns on you.
Heâs lost for words.Â
Your lips curl into a smile. First of all, youâre not really mad per se, you just like seeing him squirm. Secondly, Frank fucking Castle, your utterly menacing, 6 foot, âwomen call me daddy and I benchpress 400 lbsâ neighbour is lost for words. Heâs stumbling over every syllable, and itâs like you have him by the balls.
Then again, maybe you just did.Â
Youâve seen the way he looks at you, not-so-slick with the little half-glances he shoots your way, or how his lips purse when he sees you in the hallway, the vein in his neck popping as an existing string of unholy thoughts undeniably course through his head. Heâs always rushing to help you with something, whether itâs to carry your groceries, or to repair anything broken in your apartment.
You never complain, of course. With the way he treats you like a queen, and gets away looking like that? Yeah, you canât fault his behaviour.
And that was just Frankâs side of things. His polar opposite, puppy-eyed roommate Matt has it just as bad for you, but Matt⊠oh, Matt⊠he makes you throb in ways you donât understand. Youâre the kind of girl who will never let a man tell you what to do, but Matt? He makes you want to get on your knees, submit yourself to him, devote yourself whole.
Mattâs not a grand gesture kind of guy as much as Frank is; heâs more of a smooth talker, knowing exactly when and how to lay on the charm. In fact, itâs not just that; he intrigues you. Youâre observant â more than you give yourself credit for â and you notice the unexplainable, the somewhat impossible. Itâs the bruised knuckles that so often leave his hands stained crimson, the cane thatâs nowhere to be seen, the hushed phone calls and (to your displeasure), kiss-bitten lips.Â
You know a body as cut as his doesnât come from walking to the office every day.
If you go out on your fire escape at just the right time, and tip your head in just the right direction, you can hear them talking about you. Youâve never admitted it out loud, but your heart flutters with the way Frank describes you to Matt, in what youâre wearing that day, or when he says those mundane things like, âshe bought the same toothpaste as us!â
Alright, fine. Youâll admit it.
You think about them. A lot.
And in more ways than one.
Youâve indulged in their words, in their actions, in the little things they do that makes your skin hot and your back arch. Itâs always variations of the same forbidden fantasy that creep into your mind, images that become more visceral as your fingers slip beyond the thin material of your soaked panties.Â
And in this fantasy, there's both of them, working you, stuffing you⊠until you canât handle anymore, until you cry out both their names as you fall apart.
The worst bit? With time, your desire for them â or, whatever the hell you want to call it â has only grown stronger. It used to be that youâd run into them in the corridor, exchange a few ordinary greetings, maybe flash a pearly smile, and leave as they melt into man-sized puddles. Now if you run into each other, you all leave flustered, fumbling for the locks on your paint-chipped doors, desperately trying to conceal whatever indulgent thoughts you all harbour in your minds.Â
âYou okay?â Frankâs gruff voice snaps you back down to earth.Â
You shake your head as you snap awake, your doe-eyes meeting his. âHmm?â
He blushes, fingers straining against his coffee mug. âYou just started starinâ off in the distanceâŠâ
You offer him a tight-lipped smile as your chest rises with a rapid breath, doing your best to ignore the second pulse thatâs appeared in between your legs.Â
You really had to daydream at the right time, huh?
âLook,â he coughs, diverting his gaze, again, âMâsorry for uh⊠interruptinâ yourââ
The graphic image of his body in yours while Mattâs underneath clouds your vision, and it turns your knees to jelly. âI-itâs fine.â
You spin on your heels, intent on dropping one of your arms to reach for the side door, but you conceive an idea.Â
âHey Frank?â
âYeah?â
You turn to face him. âLetâs go out tonight. You know that wine bar between 10th and 11th?â
He musses a hand through his hair, eyebrows raising as he nods. âReally?â
âWhat,â you pout, âyou donât wanna?â
A wry smile creeps across your face as he straightens his spine, the intensity of your stare a little too much for him as his eyes flick away, throat bobbing as he shifts in his stance, almost uncomfortably.
Oh.
You stifle a gasp, zoning in on the faint outline of him, straining against his jeans.
Pupils blown and lips pursed, he catches you staring, watching intently as your tongue snakes out to wet your lips. The vein in his neck is as prominent as ever as his eyes wander over your body, at your bikini bottoms that leave almost nothing to the imagination, at your half-naked self standing there in his presence.
An idea crosses your mind. An insanely, obscene, insane idea, but oh, youâre devious. Frank squeezes his coffee mug tighter, eyes pulsating as the corners of your mouth upturn into a cheeky grinâŠÂ
And your hands drop from your chest.
All you hear is the soft murmur of a holy shit, the ceramic mug shattering apart in his hands, and the sound of your laugh echoing in the wind, carrying itself across the rooftops.
âIâll see you tonight at 7, Frank.â
.
Matt catches you in the hallway later that day as youâre running errands, heartbeat thundering in your ears as he walks himself into your shoulder. He murmurs a quick âsorryâ, straightening his suit jacket, preparing to continue his walk ahead.
âItâs me, Matt!â you call out, biting your lips he turns, his composure cracking with an infectious chuckle and a smile that crinkles his eyes.
He motions to his cane, shrugging his shoulders. âWhoops.â
Rolling your eyes, you push off your heels, inching closer to him, his voice smooth in your ears. âHow was your day?â
You focus on a small piece of white lint sitting awkwardly on Mattâs lapel as he shifts his weight onto one foot, running your tongue over your teeth as you contemplate whether or not to flick it off.
âActually,â you start, heat singeing the back of your neck as Frank pops into your mind, âyou know what? It wasnât that bad. How was yours?â
Matt chuckles half-heartedly, nodding. âThatâs uh, thatâs great to hear. Mine was⊠well, we received a hundred rhubarb pies as payment today. Sâfor a client we helped a while back.â
He leans his head in towards your giggle, hand flying up to loosen his tie. âAlright, Iâm exaggerating,â â he tips his head to the side â âIâm told there were⊠four, at best, but Foggyâs acting like we have that many.â
A moment of silence passes between you, nothing but a gust of warm wind filling the negative space. Your breath picks up as your mind races. Say something. Anything.
A look of uncertainty flashes across Mattâs face as he purses his lips, hand coming up to brush against his stubble. âLook, Iâveâ Iâve been meaning to ask you for a while, butââ
âFor a while?â you interject, raising your eyebrows.
âYeah, a while,â â he rounds his shoulders, both hands gripping his cane â âdâya wanna get a drink somewhere?â
âAre you asking me on a date, Matthew?â
He laughs, cheeks reddening at your question. âOnly if thatâs fine with you.â
âHang on a second, how long exactly have you been thinking about this?â
Flustered, Matt pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, dimples showing as he tries to hide his sheepish smile. âA while.â
âStop me when I get close.â
He grins from ear-to-ear.Â
âOne month?â you ask.Â
âNo.â
You feign surprise. âThree months?â
âNope.â
Matt laughs as you gasp, loudly. Too loudly. âA year.â
âLonger than that, sweetheart.âÂ
Sweetheart.
The nickname pools in your thighs, heating the tips of your ears, forcing you to bite back a moan.
âAre you doing anything tonight?â Matt asks, nudging your foot with his cane.Â
What about Frank?
What about Frank?
The memory of the obvious tent in Frankâs jeans tugs on the knot building behind your stomach.
âIâ well, I have the apartment to myself tonight, so I could cook. For you,â Matt says, voice lined with anticipation.
âHuh,â you look up, swallowing a laugh. âFrank isnât home tonight?â
Matt scrunches his face. âUh⊠no. He said he had something on. I figured I might as well take advantage of the quiet.â
In an instant, a thought blossoms in your mind. Itâs devious, it is so goddamn devious, but ohâŠ
So are you.
You step forwards, breath coming out a little shaky as the heat from his body reflects onto yours. Reaching a hand up to his lapel, you brush off the lint you were eyeing earlier, indulging in the earnest grunt that falls from Mattâs lips.Â
â7 PM,â you whisper in his ear. âMeet me at the wine bar between 10th and 11th.â
He presses your hand against his collarbone, holding it steady as he tilts his head downwards. Youâre shuddering at his touch, at the warmth and tingles it shoots through your veins, at the unexpected coarseness of his hands.Â
âItâs a date,â he confirms, letting go of your hand, the dimples in his grin remaining as he unlocks the door to his apartment.
.
The wine bar is intimate; only the sounds of hushed whispers and the clinking of glasses keeping you company. You tap your fingers against the lacquered wooden table, sucking in your cheeks as you look at the time. 7.15 PM. Youâre a little annoyed, not just at the fact that theyâre late, but at the straps of your sundress, thin and finicky things sliding off your shoulders with even the tiniest of movements. A sigh escapes your lips, condensation blooming across the wineglass in front of your face. Maybe they figured youâd double booked them, asked them to the same venue and on the same date without saying much more. So much for your devious little plan, huh?
You pick at your nails, wine crisp on your tastebuds, each subsequent sip making you dizzy, but slowly taking the edge off. Who cares if they donât show up? You need a night out anyway.Â
As if on cue, the door opens, catching on the little silver doorbell, and Frank steps inside, a bouquet of flowers in hand. Your breath hitches in your throat as you take him in. Heâs somehow even more ruggedly handsome tonight, sharp jawline perfectly illuminated by the warm lighting.Â
He apologises to you profusely, pulling you in for a tight hug, the contact from the muscles flexing under his thin shirt heating your skin. He motions to the bartender for a glass of whatever youâre having, setting the flowers down beside you.
He rests his forearms on the table, dark eyes peering into yours. âWill you excuse my tardiness, pretty girl?â
Oh, my fuck. What the hell is it with you and nicknames?
âPretty girlâ jolts you upright with a throb, and it takes every single ounce of strength you possess not to just uproot him by the collar and have him right then and there. Unfortunately, your reaction is poorly masked, and youâre forced to watch as Frankâs knowing smile grows, stretching larger as the bartender brings him his drink.
âCheers,â he says, lifting his glass to yours, tongue peeking out to wet his lips, eyes moving lazily up and down your torso.
Frank leans back in the booth as he takes a sip, his shirt riding up to expose the smallest sliver of skin. âSo, uh, if you donât mind me asking, whatâs the reason for,â â he waves his hands around â âall this?â
You swallow whatâs left of your wine, pressing your lips together. What were you supposed to say, that you were sick of the sexual tension and all you wanted was to have fun with Frank and his equally sexy roommate?
You say something else instead. âI like being spontaneous, Frank.â
He cocks his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. âSâthat so?â
You let out a sharp laugh. âIâm sick of doing the same thing all the time, and I need a little change in scenery.â
Frank shuffles towards you, muscles rippling under his long-sleeved shirt. âAnd you think I can do that for âya?â
A half-smirk tugs on the corners of your lips as your fingers start to dance to where his hands are resting on the tableâŠ
But you jerk your hand back, ears pricking up at the sound of the door swinging open and slamming against the wooden frame, followed by a loud âsorryâ offered to whoeverâs tending the bar.
Your stomach turns as the bartender guides Matt to your table at your signal.
Fuck.Â
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Still think this is a good idea?
Youâre not sure where to look as Frankâs sour expression shoots daggers straight at you, moving over hesitantly to make room for Matt in the booth.Â
Mattâs cold shoulder towards Frank is way too obvious as he sits down, setting his neatly folded cane on the table.Â
âIâm sorry Iâm late,â he swallows, âI had something I had to⊠take care of. But I came here as soon as I could.â
You glance down, flinching at the scabs across his knuckles, at the deep purple bruise on his cheek marring his features. There it is again, that thing about him you canât quite figure out.Â
âYeah, okay, the fuck is this?â Frank turns to you, quizzical look bordering on anger.Â
âIâm sorry, I thought this was a date,â â Matt chimes in, wagging his finger at you â âbetween the two of usâ.Â
âShe asked me here, Red,â Frank whips his head around, shoulders tensing.
Matt scoffs, throwing his head back. âYou? She asked you.â
Frank grits his teeth, fists clenching tightly together. âShut the hell up. At least I had the decency to get the lady flowers.â
Matt laughs scornfully. âOh yeah Castle, thatâs so original of you.â
âWe needa take this outside, Red?âÂ
The clink of three whiskey glasses being set down on your table is loud enough to collapse their argument.Â
The server clears their throat. âExcuse me. Courtesy of that man over there,â â they pause, pointing â âif you keep it down.â
You thank the server, flashing an apologetic smile at the man in the corner, and pull a glass towards you, tipping it straight into your mouth. Frank does the same, waving at the bar for three more, while Matt sips his furtively, licking his lips before he swallows.
âI can explain,â you start, grateful for the warmth of the whiskey spreading through your veins.
Your face grows hot as Matt and Frank sit back in the booth, training their attention on you. With your heart thundering in your chest, the alcohol rushes to your head, hitting you with that little bit of confidence you need.
You lean forwards on the table, cocking your head to the side. âLetâs not sugarcoat this, alright?â
Frank shoots a sideways glance at Matt.
âYou two think youâre so slick with your looks, and comments and⊠sink fixing,â you say, fingers curling into fists, âbut the truth is, you donât hide it well. At all.â
Matt presses his lips together as he slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose, while Frank takes a shallow breath.
Your forearms are now completely on the wood as you inch closer. âIf you want me, you can just say so.â
The space between the three of you suddenly goes dead quiet; so quiet itâs as if time has fallen away, leaving you in your own little bubble.
âItâs lucky,â you pause, âthat I have an affinity for you both. And I thought maybe⊠just maybe, we could have a little fun together.â You turn your head, making sure Frank catches the mischievous glint in your eyes.
Youâre so far forwards now that your head is in between theirs, and you bring your hands up to their cheeks, pushing them closer to you. With their heads almost touching, and your lips one breath away from their ears, you feel the shudder running through their spines reverberate into your body. âMaybe we can make it a little interesting, hmm? Only if youâre up for it,â you wink.
Mattâs smirk peaks your nipples, spurring you to lower your voice, words dripping like honey. âLetâs just say the person who makes me cum the most tonight can take me on a real date.â
To his credit, Matt keeps his cool, merely interlacing his hands together on the table, sucking his cheeks in. Frank curses under his breath, gaze narrowing as he studies you, contemplating your proposition.
Matt is the first to speak, his voice dipping an octave. âLetâs go.â
Frank jerks his head in Mattâs direction, eyes wide. âHuh?â
Mattâs tone is insistent now. âLetâs get outta here.â
âFuck, Red,â Frank whispers, hand coming up to stroke his chin, as the server sets three more whiskeys down on the table.Â
You exchange a glance with Frank before you throw back the liquid, head shaking as it burns the back of your throat. They follow suit, wasting no time at all, and while Frank leaves a generous tip at the table, you make a beeline for the door.
.
The cab is way too small for the three of you, but you squeeze into the middle seat anyway, biting back a wicked grin as Matt leans forward to give the driver his address.Â
Thereâs not a lot of space â well, not when youâre caught between two individuals with the muscle mass of an entire Planet Fitness combined â but you try to relax, heart racing as your body presses up against theirs. Something clenches in your jaw as you shuffle in the seat, the paper-wrapped bouquet of flowers crinkling by your feet. Youâre not sure where to put your hands, but they come to settle at the edge of your sundress, where itâs ridden up almost beyond the point of modesty.
A thick finger sweeps against the back of your neck, catching you off-guard. The half-gasp half-cough you let out is louder than intended, and it draws the attention of the cab driver, who looks at you from his rearview mirror.
âEverything okay, miss?â he asks, concerned.
You will yourself to snap out of it, out of that lust-filled daze, squeezing your legs together as the throbbing in between your thighs intensifies.Â
âYes,â you gulp. âEverythingâs fine, thank you.â
Frank waits until the driver flicks his gaze back to the road ahead. âDidnât mean to scare âya, sweetheart. You want me to stop?â
You purse your lips. âNo.â
He takes his hand away from your neck and hovers over the patch of skin your sundress did cover. He drags the tips of his fingers up your thigh, stopping just high enough to hear the tremble in your breath, shooting you a half-smirk as you suck your cheeks in.Â
âFrank.â Mattâs tone is stern as he tilts his chin upwards, nostrils flaring with his rising temper. âI thought we agreed to wait.â
Frankâs laugh is mirthlessly low. âWho said that, Red?â
You stare at your knee, at the big hand thatâs found its mark. Youâve never noticed how gorgeous Frankâs hands are, the way he keeps his fingernails neatly trimmed, forked veins on the topside pulsating as he grips tighter, the light pink striations of healed scars running over his knuckles. And those fingers⊠God, if his fingers are that thick already, what would hisâ
You bite down on your lip, hard, as Frank pulls your knee towards him, spreading you apart in the seat. Fuck. Every nerve in your body is on fire as he lifts your hand up to his mouth, static electricity buzzing as his lips graze over your knuckles.
While Frankâs other hand slides under your dress, up to where the thin waistband of your panties sit, Matt leans over, as if to fix his seatbelt. Your eyes lull back in your head as he creeps forward instead, fingers skimming the inside of your thigh, their combined actions threatening to elicit a moan from your lips.Â
Youâre not in control anymore.Â
Actually, you havenât been in control for ages. It takes all of your willpower â well, whatâs left of it â to not cry out, to not sit as far back as possible and let themâŠ
âThatâll be $29.30,â the driver announces, brakes screeching as he pulls up outside your apartment building.Â
âFuck!â you curse under your breath, reaching for your purse as you pull down your dress.
Matt grabs your wrist, locking it in place as he takes out his wallet, gliding one finger along the top of the bills.Â
âI think this is a 50⊠Frank, a little help please?â Frank grunts in agreement as Matt hands the bill to the driver. âKeep the change.âÂ
You donât care that you flash Frank a little as he helps you out, smirking as you watch his chest tighten at the little scrap of fabric barely covering you, clenching the bouquet of flowers in his other hand. You yelp as he pulls you out towards him, flush against the hard muscle of his chest.
His gaze is piercing as he tips your chin upwards, irises paper thin around blown pupils. âYou sure you know what youâre gettinâ into, pretty girl?âÂ
You swat his hand away. âOh Frank, Iâm not quite sure youâre ready for me.â
âWhat, you think I canât handle you or somethinâ?â
He trains his eyes on your mouth as it shifts into a wry smile, your tongue darting out to lick your lips in one smooth motion. Frank opens his mouth to retort, to say something with the intention of buckling your knees, but Matt walks up to you with perfect timing, offering you his arm.
âWalk with me?â
Frank groans, throwing his head back. âHow many times do I have to tell âya, Red? You canât keep using that trick. What happens the day someone says no, huh? Canât walk by yourself?â
A hearty laugh bubbles from Mattâs chest. âFirst of all, go to hell. Secondly,â â his voice drops to a whisper â âno oneâs gonna say no to a blind man.âÂ
He turns to you, arm still on offer. âRight, sweetheart?â
You savour the priceless look on Frankâs face as you take Mattâs arm, linking it in yours. âAbsolutely, Matthew.â
.
The walk upstairs to their apartment is excruciatingly slow; every step laced with the type of tension that sits thickly in the air. Arm still in tow with Mattâs, Frank trails behind the two of you, the thud of his boots against the wood echoing loudly in the stairway. You can feel him staring at you, at the way your dress flutters with each step upwards, the little glimpses of your ass making his mouth go dry.
Matt stops on the next landing, jerking your arm to do the same. Wordlessly, he drops his cane to the ground, unlinking his arm, tilting his chin upwards as if to settle his phantom gaze on you.
His lips are on yours before you can say anything, hands dropping to your waist, inching you towards the wall until he has you pinned. You mewl as he slips the straps of your dress off your shoulders, trailing his kisses down your neck, pressing himself into you.
âIf thereâs anything youâre uncomfortable with,â â he rasps, nipping a sensitive spot on your neck â âyou tell us, okay?â
He smirks against your mouth as you tell him âyesâ, dragging the tips of his fingers from your collarbone down your arm.
But the kiss is over as quickly as it started.
âHey, hey, hey, what the fuck, Red?â Frank spits, yanking Matt back by the collar.
âFuck you, Frank,â Matt retorts, stepping forward as his hands tighten into fists.
You stifle a giggle, trying your best not to show your amusement at the flowers that undercut Frankâs tone.Â
Frank looks at you, nostrils flaring at the way Mattâs messed up your hair. âDarlinâ, itâs a fair competition, yeah?â
Matt interjects as you start to agree. âAlright, Castle, then tell me how much fun you had before I got there. You had a head start.â
Frank throws his hands up in the air, shaking his head. âFor Godâs sake Red, I didnât ask for you to be lateââ
Matt presses his lips together, cupping his hands over his face, the exasperation in his voice imminent. âI had things to do, Frank, IââÂ
You clear your throat. âWhy donât you two save this for when weâre upstairs, huh?â
They turn their heads in your direction, nodding.
The two remaining flights of stairs disappear under your feet in a matter of seconds.
.
You swear you hear a crack as Frank bursts into the apartment, ushering you in as he scrambles to kick the front door closed. Matt lets out a little laugh as you drag him inside, stomach twisting as he yanks your hand, spinning you towards him. His lips find yours in an instant as he shrugs his suit jacket off, hands coming up to cup your jaw.Â
Bouquet of flowers still in hand, Frank rushes to find a vase, faucet creaking as he waits for it to fill up.
âHey!â he yells out, âBetter not start anything without me!â
Matt breaks away from your kiss to undo his tie, whipping his head towards Frank in the kitchen. âLike you waited in the cab?â
He groans into your mouth as your tongue swipes along his bottom lip, teeth gently clashing together as he steadies his hands on your face.Â
âFrank?!â Matt calls, pulling off his glasses.
âYeah?âÂ
âHere.â Matt throws his glasses at Frank, who catches them in one hand, setting them onto the counter with a soft click.
As his mouth meets yours again, Mattâs hands begin to wander. As his thumbs brush over your nipples, he dances his fingers upwards, lingering for a moment on the hollow of your throat, coaxing a soft gasp from you as he uses a knuckle to trace its outline.Â
His lips skirt your collarbone as he lifts your dress up, grunting as he kneads your ass, grinding his hard cock into your leg. He continues moving his hands up to where your panties sit on your hips, picking at the waistband, listening intently for the snap of the elastic against your skin as he lets go.
There it is again, that fucking smirk.Â
âMatt,â you exhale sharply, nipping at his earlobe as he snaps your waistband once again. âMattâŠâ
âGod, I love it when you say my name like that,â he groans, tugging your panties down your thighs.
He presses closer to you, wedging his hand under your dress, tracing a finger up your slick folds. Youâre squirming in place, chest heaving as he puts pressure on your clit, circling it in a way that pulls on the knot building behind your stomach.Â
You make a sound youâve never heard before as Frank comes up behind you, thick hands gripping your waist, holding you in place, steadying you for something youâve only ever fantasised about.
Matt sinks his fingers into you, thumb still moving over your clit, brushing up against that spot that makes you see stars.Â
âAttagirl,â Frank whispers, as you tip your head back into his shoulder, vision going blurry at the way Matt curls his fingers inside you.Â
Youâre a mess, dripping all over his hand, keening into his touch.Â
Frankâs voice is husky in your ear. âLook up at â thatâs right, baby, look up at me.â
You stare into Frankâs eyes, mouth parted in a perfect âoâ as Matt growls, thumb so slick with your arousal that he glides over your clit with ease. All you manage to get out is âmmhmâ before Frank brings his fingers to your lips, commanding you to âsuckâ.Â
Frank purses his lips, throat bobbing as you seal your mouth around his fingers, bucking against Mattâs touch, eyes rolling back as he hits the back of your throat, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.
âThatâs right, darlinâ,â Frank rasps, watching the uneven rise and fall of your chest, the telltale sign of your impending release.
Your cry is muffled as your orgasm rips through your body, flooding Mattâs hand, his own slacks staining with his leaking precum. Thereâs a string of spit clinging to Frank as he slides his fingers out from your mouth with a pop, but it doesnât phase him; not one bit. In fact, he tips his head down to look at you like a trophy, something like a mix of awe and desire manifesting in his darkened gaze.
You wobble as Matt and Frank step away from you, slipping your dress off as you right your balance on the couch behind, bracing your wrists on the soft leather.Â
But thereâs no rest for the wicked, and Frank beckons you towards him as he pulls his shirt off, leaving it in a heap on the floor. He sweeps you in for a kiss, full lips insistent against yours. Heâs a little rougher than Matt, but somehow, his mouth is more forgiving, warm and soft as it melds to yours. You break the kiss, stepping back for a second to look him up and down, taking in as much detail as possible.
âHoly hell,â you say, Frankâs responding expression evidence that you actually said that out loud, and not in your head.
He looks at the floor, shyly messing a hand through his hair. âSâthere uh⊠something you like?âÂ
âSomething I like?!â you exclaim, ogling him.Â
âShut up, Frank. How theâ Oh my God, Matt, get over here,â you command, motioning Frank to come up behind you.
You waste no time in unbuttoning Mattâs shirt, working your way from top to bottom. Unlike Frank and his efforts to woo you by walking around shirtless, youâve never seen Matt without clothes on. Heâs always in something, to your disdainâŠ
Until now.
A gasp escapes your lips â partly from the way Frankâs leaving marks all over your neck â at Mattâs tanned skin underneath, at what heâs been hiding this entire time. You run your hand over the vast expanse of him, jaw dropping as he flexes underneath your hand, rigid muscle sending heat to your core. Your heart stills at the scars flecking his torso, some well healed, some angry and red as if theyâre new.Â
Frank skirts his fingers over your nipples, pulling from you the tiniest whimper.Â
âUhâŠâ Matt starts, vacant eyes flicking upwards. âI can explainââ
Your voice hushes to a whisper. âDonât worry about it, Matty, j-just⊠just câmere, okay?âÂ
The sound of Frankâs belt being unbuckled makes your breath catch in your throat, the clinking of metal ringing faintly in your ears as your fingers graze the deep vee lines on Mattâs hips. You watch as Matt sucks his cheeks in, cock twitching against the fabric of his slacks as you hook yourself into his waistband, pulling him closer to you by his belt.
Your mouth melts against his before you turn to Frank, who you know is desperate for attention from the way his arousal presses hard into your back. His tongue slips against yours, hand curving your jaw, tracing the contours of your face before it settles on your breast, drawing out a stifled moan as he rolls your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.
âAlright Red,â Frank pants into your mouth, âIâm done being nice.â
Matt laughs scornfully as he kisses your neck hungrily, reaching around to your aching cunt once more.Â
Frank grunts as you palm him over his underwear, throwing his head back at the sensitivity of your touch. âBaby, did he make you cum good?â
You gulp, nodding as Frank smacks Mattâs hand away, rough fingers taking residence on your clit. âYeah, Frank.â
He flashes you a cheeky grin. âReally? âCause that was altar boyâs first time touchinâ a pussy.â
Matt puffs his chest out, striding forward. âOh, youââ
Frank offers Matt nothing but a smug laugh as he picks you up over his shoulder, fingers digging into your waist as he carries you to the couch like you weigh nothing. Goosebumps erupt all over you as the cool leather makes contact with your skin, then as Frank knocks your knees apart with the push of a hand. A chill runs down your spine as you bare yourself to them, and although you know Matt canât see you spread out like you want him to, you get the idea he knows exactly whatâs going on; maybe the scent of your heightened arousal is easier for him to pick up.
âI havenât let you off the hook, Castle,â Matt snarls. âYou and me? After this weâre gonna settle it our way, yeah?â
âIf it makes you sleep better at night, then yeah,â Frank retorts, head settling in between your legs.
Matt curses under his breath, fists coming up to press against his forehead. âOkayâ just, fine. Just describe her to me Frank? Can you do that, then weâre even?â
âFor now.â
âFine, for now.â
You wiggle up on the couch, propping yourself up by your elbows as Frank flares his nostrils, inhaling you before him. âFuck Red⊠the way sheâs lyinâ on her back, spread out like thisâŠâ
Matt shudders as he palms himself, nodding.Â
You feel yourself heating up as you continue listening. âAnd sheâsâ sheâs fucking drippinâ, God, fuck.â
âYeah?â Matt pants, shrugging off his slacks, hand closing around his cock as it springs free, tip leaking with precum. âKeep going.â
âAnd now, Iâm gonna lick her pretty little clit.â Frank looks into your eyes, lips pressed together in a hard line. âYou want me to do that for you, baby?â
The way your breath shakes as you say âyesâ makes the both of them smirk.
Then, Frankâs tongue flattens against your clit, drawing from you a sound youâve only ever made while fantasising about them, only in the privacy of your bedroom, of your shower, and wherever else youâve thought about them. Your back arches as he licks wet circles into you, pressure feeling like velvet on the most sensitive part of your body.
Matt finds a spot next to you as he strokes himself, eyes squeezed shut as the sounds you make travel through his body. You reach out, wrapping your hand around his cock as he leans over to play with your tits, marvelling at the thick length before you, at the way it looks like it was made for your pleasure.
âCome here, Matt. Youâre begging to be suckedâ are all the words you can manage in between moans, but he comes up right next to you, slapping his tip on your tongue. He groans as you lick along the underside of him, along the prominent vein that pulsates with every touch. He lets out a half-cry as you seal your mouth over him, taking him in so deep that he hits the back of your throat.Â
You start to bob your head, hand coming up to work his shaft in tandem, but Frankâs tongue slipping itself into the warmest, wettest part of you breaks you wholly, head tipping back as your peak sails through you.
Mouth and chin glistening with your cum, Frank looks up at you smugly, watching your erratic breathing as you come down from your high. He wipes his mouth before pushing off the couch to take his underwear off, cock so hard it slaps against his stomach. Your mouth goes dry at the girth, legs crossing over from the thought of him stretching you out; the pain thatâll give way to pleasure.Â
You get off the couch to kneel between them both, rug under your knees semi-cushioning you from the hardwood floor. A shudder runs through your body as you look up at them, standing tall over you, every hard contour of muscle illuminated in the dim light of the apartment. Pupils dilated and mind buzzing with the thought of every single thing youâd like to do to their bodies, you reach upwards, hands closing around their cocks, throbbing and warm under your touch. Your strokes are languid as you relish in the sounds that tumble from their mouths, string of curses music to your ears.Â
As your pace quickens, Matt tangles a hand in your hair. âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted to do this for,â he says, jerking your head back ever-so-slightly at the jolt of pleasure that runs through his body.
âHmm,â you chuckle, flattening your tongue on his head, the half-howl half-cry he gives you making your legs shake. âAnd what about you, Frank?â You look up at him with innocent eyes as you shift to his cock, coating him in your saliva as he fucks the back of your throat.
He ruts into your mouth, grunting the words out. âEver since I first laid eyes on you, darlinâ.â
You move back to Matt, hand gliding easier along Frankâs length with the help of your spit, licking the underside of him before you take him all into your mouth. âDid you ever think this was gonna happen?â
Frank laughs as you push them together closer to you, taking turns to blow them. âYou should see Red, jerkinâ himself to the thought of you.âÂ
Frank jabs Matt in the chest lightly. âHeâs not quiet about it.âÂ
Matt turns red in the darkness, pursing his lips as his cock hits a spot at the back of your throat, making you gag. âOh and what about you, Castle?â
Frankâs voice is gruff as he reaches down to play with your nipples. âOh shut it, Red.â
You render them speechless for a second as you stuff them both into your mouth, stretching your lips to fit them in as much as possible. Theyâre big, bigger than youâve ever had, so they barely fit, but God, youâre so good, trying to please them both at the same time.
âFuck,â they curse, voices dropping an octave, Mattâs hand coiling tighter in your hair. Tears spill down your cheeks as you get sloppier, strings of saliva following you from one cock to the other.Â
âI can hear you,â â Matt pants â âsaying her name in the shower.â
âYeah, so? Maybe I did, once or twice.â
âNo, no, no,â Matt laughs, âNot once or twice. All the damn time.â
Frank growls as Matt opens his mouth, fake moaning your name brazenly. âCum for me darlinâ, cum for mââ
A well placed kick to Mattâs ankle shuts him up, making him stumble backwards. âYeah, okay, now Iâm gonna say that to her for real.â
Frank shuffles behind you, bending you over the coffee table, pinning your outstretched arms at the wrists. The rug burn on your knees makes you hiss, but the resounding smack on your ass distracts you from the pain. Itâs soothed by Frankâs wet cock slapping gently against his handprint, and then the trail of kisses he leaves from the welt to your pussy. He licks a broad stripe up your folds before plunging his fingers inside you, tongue exploring every part of you to see what sounds you make, what you like⊠whatâs gonna get you to your next orgasm.
You let out a sharp exhale as you feel Frank being shoved away, the night air cold on your bare pussy, but youâre sent straight back to heaven as Mattâs mouth meets your core, tongue slipping inside your entrance as he spreads you apart with his hands. You recognise him by the way he eats you; heâs so much more gentler than Frank, taking his time with you as he worships your body.
But youâre not ready for the sensation of Frank lapping at your clit while Matt tongue-fucks your hole, the mewls and whimpers falling from your lips spurring them on to lick faster, prod deeper. You feel the pressure behind your stomach building to a crescendo, one thatâs broken apart as you hear the sound of scuffling behind you, turning to see that Frankâs put Matt in a headlock.Â
Your eyes roll backwards in annoyance, frustrated at the way theyâve left you high and dry, a mix of your cum and their saliva dripping down your thighs and no orgasm to match.Â
âDarlinâ?â Frank calls, slamming his hands on Mattâs chest.
âYes, Frank?â you mumble, stretching your back over the coffee table.
âYou want my cock?âÂ
âYes.âÂ
In a flurry, Frank gets Matt flat on the ground enough that he canât rise up to retaliate, not quickly at least, before pushing himself right into you. The combination of his thick girth and length makes you sweat, makes your eyes lull back in your head; the burn of the stretch slowly giving way to pleasure as he grinds into you.
He pulls back, far enough that you feel only the tip of him remaining inside, before slamming his hips into yours. You fall apart instantly as he drives his cock into that spot inside you, walls clenching and back arching as you pulsate around him.
Matt gets up, feet poised into a stance that screams âIâm gonna fucking kill you, Frank.âÂ
âDid you? Did you just make her ââ
âYouâre goddamn right I did.â
Matt lets out an angry sigh before he helps you up, leading you to the dining table. He hoists you up on the table, brushing your hair to the side before grinning in your ear, every word dripping with want. âAlright sweetheart, hereâs whatâs gonna happen okay? Iâm gonna fuck you like you deserve. None of that bullshit Castleâs been giving to you this whole time.âÂ
The quiver in your breath makes him chuckle. âReady for me to fuck that pretty pussy of yours?âÂ
He drags his teeth along your pulse as you murmur âyesâ in his ear, nipping at the bruises Frankâs already left on your neck. You dig your nails into his shoulder as he traces himself on your folds, teasing you until you squeeze him, desperate for the gratification you know his cock will provide.Â
Frank comes up beside you, bending down to swirl his tongue over your nipple, fingers featherlight on your clit as he rubs it in small circles. You bite down on your bottom lip as Matt guides himself inside you, pushing until he canât go any deeper, Frankâs fingers still wedged in between you.Â
He grits his teeth as he fucks you, one hand on your waist and the other wrapped around your thigh, the wet squelches of his thrusts almost too much for him to bear. Matt isnât as girthy as Frank, but he reaches the deepest parts of you effortlessly, pistoning himself at an angle that makes you cry out his name. The way he drills himself into you echoes throughout the room, the sound of his hips snapping against yours the only thing you can focus on before you throw your head back, exploding on him.
Mattâs cocky grin makes you weak as he pulls out, chin levelling into Frankâs glowering stare. He brandishes his hands in front of him, palms pointed to you as if to say, âyour turn nowâ.Â
Frank huffs at Matt as he scoops his hands under your ass, pulling you closer to the edge of the table. He wastes no time in filling your body with his, bending his knees as he drives himself upwards. Youâre cockdumb at this point, eyes half-lidded and utterly glazed over, dopey smile the only thing you can muster as Matt tilts your chin up to his, kissing you hungrily as you moan into his mouth. Every thrust pulls from you a little mumble of unintelligible words, every nerve of yours firing at rates you didnât think possible.
âWhoâs winning, baby? Me or Frank?â Matt purrs, tongue scraping along your bottom lip.
âYouâre bâ fuck! Fuck, Frank!â â you say, in between his ruthless thrusts and the wicked gleam from his smile â âYouâre both so good.â
You clench so tightly that Frank pops out of you for a second, but he doesnât wait a beat to stuff himself back into you, continuing the relentless pace you know will have you ripped apart within minutes.
âThatâs not good enough for us, darlinâ,â Frank grits his teeth, hands digging into your ass.
âSweetheart, I canât even see and I know heâs not fucking you right.â
Frank snarls at Matt, swatting him out of the way as he lifts you onto his cock, off the table. Gripping your lower back, he pumps into you harder, the new angle making you want to tip your head back and howl. Ecstasy shoots through your veins as he carries you to the bedroom, cock still buried deep inside you.
He rakes his nails up your back as he uses your waist as leverage, moving you up and down on his cock with almost no effort at all.Â
âYeah darlinâ,â he groans, âYou feel so fuckinâ good for me, you know that?â
You whimper in response, kissing him to muffle the cry that builds up from within⊠and your peak sails through your body, every muscle going taut, toes curling, fingernails leaving marks on his shoulders as your overstimulated body responds to his pleasure.
He lowers you on the bed, bracketing your head with his forearms, languid kisses matching the pace of his hips. You can feel every inch of him as he thrusts into you, body expanding to accommodate him as he stills inside.
âYouâre fucking infuriating, Castle,â Matt barks, standing over the two of you as he strokes himself.
âYeah, well, if you ainât strong enough to fuck her standing, just say so,â Frank chuckles mirthlessly, coaxing you over the edge once more.
âYou didnât give me the goddamn chance!â
âChance?â Frank spits, squeezing one of your tits, mattress dipping as he gets off the bed. âOh by all means Red, be my guest.â
Youâre caught between a gasp and a sharp exhale as fury embeds itself in Mattâs face, lips contorting into a snarl. Youâve never seen this side of him before; this dark edge simultaneously scaring you and turning you on more than you already are.Â
Something snaps in Matt.
He moves so quickly you almost miss it, akin to lightning flashing in a thunderstorm, pile-driving Frank into the bed so hard itâs a tangle of limbs and testosterone. Frank hits the bed, hard, hissing as Mattâs fist makes contact with his jaw, and thenâŠ
The soft splintering of wood, pricking Mattâs ears, sending him on high alert.
And the bed breaks. Two out of four legs collapsing in on themselves, the entire bed sinking on one side, catching all three of you off guard.Â
âOops,â Matt grimaces, sheepish smile adorning his face.
Frank clicks his tongue, shaking his head at the broken bed as he gets up to his feet. âGoddamn it, Red. Really had to let your anger get the better of âya, huh?â
You donât care that your words are slurring a little. Youâre cockdazed, and they better learn how to deal with it real fast. âOh my God. You know what? Iâm so sick ofâ I shouldâve never made this bet if it was gonna get you two riled up like thisââ
You wobble as you stand up, scowl scrunching your nose as you bare your teeth. âIâm soââ
Matt shuts you up with a kiss, not caring that your teeth clash a little, pulling you close to him by the ass. The feeling of his hard cock pressed up against your stomach melts you from within, drawing out a moan you canât bite back.
âYouâre right, sweetheart. Weâre sorry,â Matt murmurs, tangling his fingers in the back of your head.
âYeah darlinâ, heâs right. We can get uh⊠a little competitive,â Frank lowers his voice, coming up behind you to press his kisses into your neck.
You scoff, but itâs quickly replaced by a soft sound, one that indicates youâre far from being done.Â
âI dunno, Red, you think she still wants us?â Frank grits, wrapping his arms around your waist.
âOh yeah,â Matt smirks, rubbing his cock on your clit, âI think she does.â
âI promise weâre gonna make it up to you, alright?â Frank teases, running his finger over the curve of your jaw. âWhatcha say, Red, wanna stuff her and make her scream for us?â
Mattâs devious smirk grows larger. âOnly if sheâs fine with it.âÂ
He tips your chin upwards, the action exposing your neck enough so Frank can close his hand around it. âAre you fine with that?â
âYou got some making up to do, gentlemen.â
âSâthat a yes?â they say together.
âYes.â
âWell, the bed is broken,â Matt sniffs the air, âbut, we have all night and the entire apartment to explore, right?â
Mattâs grin is different now. Devilish.
And more so when Frank reciprocates it, eyes glinting with a feral hunger. âYouâre damn right.â
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thinking about... | series masterlist
main masterlist | my muse
â¶ ïœĄË Â°Â any warnings are marked with an asterisk, minors do not interact
all work is written by me and not to be reposted without my permission â¶ ïœĄË Â°
thinking about... the way frank touches himself.
thinking about... matt and shower sex. {alternate ending}
thinking about... frank finding out about you and matt.
thinking about... the aftermath.
thinking about... frank's voyeuristic request.
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Congratulations, rhi!! đ„ł
86th st
Prompt: âwhy are you really here? to mock me? to... make me hate you more?â âno. none of that. i came to be a friend, because it really looks like you need one right now.â
Character: Matt Murdock
Also, I don't mind if a confession or smut is involved somehow đ€Ł
glass ceiling
join my sleepover | main masterlist
pairing: matt murdock x vigilante!reader
warnings: canon typical injuries, brief mention of religion, angst, tinyyyyy confession
a/n: ok nonnie i couldn't fit the smut in cause matty low-key friendzones you in this prompt butttttt enjoy the mini confession đ thank you so much for participating !! (ps this is low-key unedited but hope you enjoy nevertheless)
Thereâs a coppery tang to the air as you drift in and out of consciousness, akin to a wave receding upon a shore. Your eyes shutter open, unable to take stock of exactly what youâve injured, but at least you have a faint idea of where you are, and how you ended up in this position.Â
âOw,â you wince, twisting onto your side, desperately trying to staunch the gash above your eyebrow. The pain in your side has faded to a dull throb, but a quick glance at the blood pooling beneath tells you the cut is anything but superficial.Â
Itâs a balmy night, but the wind dries the rivulets of sweat on your skin in cold increments. The cement rooftop is even more frigid underneath your spent body, seemingly siphoning your energy with every sawed breath. Anything remaining of your once ironclad resolve ebbs to a bare whisper.Â
The constant ringing in your ears blots out your efforts in concentration, rendering your attempts to move, to sit up, utterly futile. You know your neurons stopped firing the second your assailant decided that this was the end, except the asshole didnât even have the decency to finish the job. To make sure you wouldnât come after him.
It was your luck he was cocky enough to leave you up here.Â
You wiggle your toes, but even that action makes every muscle and bone in your body scream for help. The cracks in your defense widen to a chasm, and so you resort to basics. To your default programming. Â
âPlease,â you grit, jerking your chin up to the light-polluted sky, âmake it quick.âÂ
You donât know who youâre aiming your prayer towards, and youâre foolish enough to believe that someone would care enough to listen, to send an aide, but you hope nevertheless that it catches the attention of some benevolent force, deity or not.
The peals of a police siren shatters your fantasy, making you whip your head to the side. Instead, it speeds off into the distance, carrying with it any last fragments of survival.Â
This is it, you think. This is how I go.Â
Thatâs not what happens, though.
As you settle into the ground, your fingers coming away sticky from the laceration in your side, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stick up. A warning, maybe, but youâre too fatigued to tell. Still, it alerts you, causing your arduous eyes to widen.
Your head smacks the concrete listlessly, because all you see is the skyline of the city stabbing into the indigo sky, the lights haloing your vision. Jutting out amongst the landscape are the spires of a church, lackluster compared to the twinkling highrises. Your mouth contorts into a grimace at the irony it presents.
The lack of discovery doesnât explain why goosebumps continue to prickle your skin, or why you hear the rustle of fabric carried with the wind â the sound too soft to notice to the untrained, unobservant ear.Â
There. A glimmer of movement catches your eye, a crimson shadow dancing in and out of your sight.Â
Out of the vestiges of darkness, a saviour emerges.
Him.
Matt bounds towards you, closing the distance in four short strides. He falls to his knees beside you, hands scrambling to triage your body.Â
His expression goes grim, sweat forming a thin sheen along the exposed part of his face as he speaks. âThis isnât good.â
Your weak chuckle turns into a wet rasp. âTell me the other guy got off worse, at least.â
Matt pauses for a moment, his tongue flicking out at the corner of his mouth. His voice dips to a murmur. âHeâll never make that mistake again.â
You nod slowly, training your gaze on Matt as he takes off his helmet, setting it down on the concrete before putting pressure on the wound in your side. White hot pain blossoms throughout your nerve endings, exploding behind your eyes, but he ignores any markers of your discomfort.Â
Gritting your teeth, you lift one of your arms to push the lock of hair thatâs fallen across his forehead. Thereâs an inexplicable familiarity about the gesture, even though you havenât seen him in months. Even though your final encounter was precisely that: your last.Â
âI thought you said I had to get out of your way, Matt.â
âI know,â he says, his face irresolute.
âThen why are you really here?â Your mouth twists into a scowl as you shrug his hands away, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. âTo mock me, for coming back to Hellâs Kitchen? To⊠make me hate you more?â
Something between disconcertion and indignation crosses his face. âWhat? No. None of that.â He wrestles you back down, compressing his hand over the wound again. âI came to be a friend. Because it really looks like you need one right now.â
You hold onto his words, acquiescing his comfort, his company, but all that comes out is an incoherently grumbled response, one that pulses in time with your darkening vision. Itâs as if the second he showed up, your body has finally relinquished to the tranquility of rest, knowing that despite your past, Matt is someone to be trusted.Â
Agony radiates throughout your body as he hoists you up over his shoulder, your heart fluttering at the gentleness of his touches, the soft cadence of his voice. You barely comprehend what heâs saying, but you cling onto âapartmentâ and âIâll look after youâ, like a beacon of hope. God-sent, if you consider your prayers answered.Â
Thereâs something else you catch as youâre dragged under. Heâs talking to you, soothing you, settling you. It feels like heâs explaining something to you, but whether itâs for him to get it off his chest, or simply to lull you to sleep is indistinguishable. Yet, your attempt continues to listen.Â
âI never wanted you in my way,â he starts, slowly becoming a jumble of noise, âbecause I was falling in love with you.â
But youâre too tired to contest him. To ask if heâs confessing that because youâre on your deathbed, or if theyâre pointless words, said just to appease.Â
âI heard when you called,â he finishes. âI always do.â
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