okay, what if the situation at moonrise towers was reversed?
the trader is a vampire and they offer you the potion to permanently increase your strength, but only if you let them feed from you.
astarion would try soooo hard not to let his emotions betray him. you haven't defined your relationship. the decision is yours to make. he's just using you, anyway...
but gods, does the thought of someone else's teeth in your neck make him sick to his stomach. no one else should be able to taste you, to hear the way your breath catches at the first draw of blood, to feel your hand grip their bicep if it gets to be too much.
you decline the offer, much to the pale elf's relief, and he finds himself in your tent that night. he joins you even before the other party members have gone to sleep for the evening.
his desperation quickly becomes apparent. he litters your neck with bites before moving to your chest, then your abdomen. he hardly even feeds, too busy marking what's his.
making his way back up your body, he laps at the blood he's spilled while the warmth of his breath fans across your delicate skin.
once he finds your lips, he leaves a lingering kiss there before pulling back. his expression is almost sheepish, though the sentiment is gone the very next moment.
he settles beside you wordlessly, opens a book, and pretends not to see the look on your face— knowing and amused.
we used to say 'pics or it didnt happen' and if you were lying you'd be screwed. but liars can show me a picture now and i dont know if its real. i dont know i dont know i dont know i dont know i dont know
i've stayed in beautiful hotels and villas all around the world, like la maison arabe in marrakesh, to name one
i've directed films starring my favourite actresses
i've eaten ridiculously delicious food. case in point
i've bought and worn every expensive/hard to acquire fashion item i've ever wanted. such as:
the lilac dress from the versace spring 2006 rtw collection. the one emmy rossum wore to the uk premire of the film poseidon — i wore it to prom
the black lace mini dress from the anna sui fall/winter 2007 rtw collection. the one that blair waldorf wore in the gossip girl pilot — i wore it for a party of my own. i also bought some of the same lingerie she wears throughout the show
i've attended concerts in the 80s / 90s / early 2000s
i've gone on various crusies. both as a child and as an adult. the disney cruise stands out as one of the most exciting ones i've been on; 8 year old me had a blast
branching off the last point; i've had wonderful childhoods that have healed something in me
i've owned a pony. her name is canelle. my grandparents brought her from the netherlands... or was it switzerland? i don't remember anymore lol, i was 9 when they gifted her to me. i've also owned horses in other drs but canelle holds a special place in my heart
i've been sort of an influencer (and then nuked that account at 300k because i didn't like being perceived anymore lol. i am private to my core in most realities)
i've pursued a lot of different career paths. film director, ballerina, professional chest player, creative director, graphic designer, photographer, traditional artist, seamstress, shopkeeper, microceleb, etc, etc, etc
i've lived freely/fully. without financial worries or fear of oppression/unfounded prejudice
jeongin’s bug-eyed as he stares at you, whipping his head around at the surrounding people to make sure they didn’t also hear your question. or if they did, maybe they could reassure him that he misheard you.
“i said i like your hair.” you coo, eyes glinting. graciously neglecting to repeat the second part of your sentence: the question that’s got him hot in the cheeks, turning a shade so bright it could rival his new hair.
jeongin nods, hoping that he really was wrong. even if a small part of his brain pangs with disappointment. he’s had such a sickeningly strong crush on you, he must be hallucinating you speaking to him in such a way. especially in the middle of this crowded party where any of your friends can overhear.
“oh. thank you.” he smiles shyly, dimple popping out of his cheek.
you bite your lip, wishing you could just sink your teeth into the divot instead.
“you’ve done ginger before, but not like this.” you reach out, twirling a strand of his soft hair between your fingers. jeongin can only stiffen under your featherlight touch. “it’s cute.”
his adam’s apple bobs in a gulp, and he manages to nod, words beyond him now. maybe seungmin lied when he said that punch had no alcohol, because there’s no way you’re actually looking at him like this right now. like maybe…you want him. he has to be seeing things.
“you didn’t answer my question though.” you faux pout.
“er— sorry. what was it?”
you stifle the wicked grin threatening to split across your face. you’re so sure he already heard you the first time too, now he’s just playing dumb.
“i asked if the carpet matches the drapes?” you drawl. fluttering your lashes sweetly, shifting on your weight like you’re nervous to be talking to him. like you’re not the one making an absolute mess of his composure right now.
jeongin just blinks at you. blinks until he’s sure he’s sober. blinks without saying anything for long enough that you damn nearly just repeat yourself, and louder this time.
“i asked if—”
jeongin shushes you, crowding you in as he closes the distance. close enough that he only has to speak in a whisper, but not too close that he looks like he’s bothering you.
“what do you want from me?” he asks you straight up, brows pinched with a frown.
he’s starting to think maybe one of his friends dobbed him in and filled you in on his little crush. maybe you’re just fucking with him, knowing you can turn him to putty with just your tongue.
you muster the sweetest smile you can, hand falling from his hair to cradle his cheek.
“just an answer.”
✦⠀
“fuck fuck, ah—” jeongin whimpers from above, shaky fingers finding solace in your hair.
for all of one minute your mouth has been relentless on him, ever since he dropped his zipper and answered your burning question.
at first, he only peeled back the elastic of his boxers to show you a tuft of hair and nothing more. it did not match the drapes, in fact. but that’s not what you were even asking for — you’re actually surprised he still believed it. even now, as he’s alone with a girl in a locked bathroom, who’s moving like she’s ready to pounce on him.
you had to pretend to still care when he presented the hair, like he thinks it’s actually what you’re after. you tilted your head, hummed in thought, pondered whether you still wanted to fuck someone so clueless.
(the answer’s yes obviously.)
“looks like it doesn’t.” you shrug.
sensing your disappointment, he doesn’t say anything in reply; about to just zip his pants back up without another word until you physically stop his wrist.
“i can literally see that you’re hard, jeongin. just take them off.”
that brings you to now: cheeks hollowed out, tongue dragging along the underside of his cock, throat hugging his tip.
jeongin’s never felt anything quite like your mouth. he lets another pretty noise slip from his lips, a spotlight on how his length pulses in your mouth. he’s leaking far too much cum to be considered pre, and he winces each time he feels your throat swallowing it down.
you decide to give him some mercy, sucking him all the way up to the tip before popping your lips off with a wet smack. he shudders as the cool air hits him, missing your heat swallowing him.
the thought doesn’t linger for long since you can’t help but keep your hands on him — revelling in how responsive he’s been.
he moans when you wrap a fist around the base of him, thumb pressing at his tip and watching as precum beads under your touch.
“i can’t believe you thought i just wanted to see your pubes.” you scoff out a laugh, fist slowly dragging up his cock, feeling every pulsing vein under the ridges of your palm.
jeongin slouches against the wall you pushed him onto, little shaky breaths leaving him as your fist reaches his tip with a squeeze.
“you—mmh, asked..”
“yeah, only so i could get in your pants.” you roll your eyes, lazily jerking off just the tip.
you also feel a strange sense of endearment, that he just went along with what you asked without questioning it… when a bad bitch tells you what to do and all.
“you don’t actually like my hair?” he hisses when you take your hand off, chasing the circle of your fist until you’re sliding it back down on him again.
“innie, i put your whole dick in my mouth. it’s safe to assume i probably like you.”
jeongin hums appreciatively when your hand grips tighter, adding a flick of your wrist as you start to jerk him off with a rhythm.
to your surprise, the hand in your hair slides down to pinch your chin, tipping your head up to look him in the eye.
“think i need more convincing.” he breathes out; eyes half-lidded, a smile that you can only describe as foxlike playing at his lips.
this motherfucker. the same boy who was just whimpering above you, now teasing you — provoking you to get your mouth back on him.
you’ve seen the way his friends baby him. so you weren’t surprised at all when he so readily just.. let you take care of him. but of course he knows exactly how to use it to get what he wants, too.
“alright.” you say, intent on sucking the brat out of him.
and when your mouth parts for him again, swallowing his length until it hits your throat — you can feel his hand slyly pushing your head down the whole way.
that was your initial, fleeting impression of chan. he didn't really leave a mark, not at first anyway. just another familiar face that you shared lectures with. but its hard to miss constant stares burning at the back of your skull.
You’d noticed it weeks ago — the way his gaze lingered a little too long when you leaned over your desk, or when you'd always catch him staring when you looked around, and he'd look away right when your eyes met his.
At first, you thought it was just the usual nervous energy of a guy who didn’t know how to talk to girls, I mean he's certainly too jacked to not have any girls approaching him. but then again he always minded his own business, like he didnt want to be seen.
And well... that backfired on his part, because you did notice him.
Chan wasn't the first guy to stare. college was full of eyes that wandered, hands that "accidentally" brushed against yours in crowded hallways. but he was the most interesting. Unlike the frat boys who made their desire loud and obnoxious, Chan's perversion was quiet.
yea. he's a pervert. you've probably guessed that by now. but he never really did something about it. never approached.
of course he wouldn’t approach first. he wasn’t stupid — he knew exactly where he stood in the unspoken hierarchy of college life. You, draped in effortless popularity, always surrounded by friends and attention. him, quiet, never spoke to anyone unless it was his two friends.
The math was simple. you wouldn’t give him the time of day, not in any way that mattered.
atleast that's what he thought, but you had other plans.
You waited until the lecture hall emptied, watching from the corner of your eye as Chan packed up. Perfect. You timed it just right, slipping into the hallway as he shouldered his bag, then ducking into the supply closet two doors down.
The hinges squeaked, and you counted the seconds. Three. Five. Seven. Then his shadow appeared in the doorway.
“Looking for something?” you asked, leaning against the shelves with your arms crossed. The closet was narrow, cramped, the air thick with the scent of industrial cleaner.
Chan froze, his throat working as he swallowed. You could practically see the realization flashing behind his eyes — realization that this is a trap, and that he royally fucked up by falling for it — but his feet carried him forward anyway, till you clicked the door shut behind him.
You tilted your head, letting your gaze drag down his body, pausing at the strained fly of his jeans.
“Pathetic,” you murmured, stepping closer until the toes of your sneakers brushed his. “You really followed me in here like some desperate little puppy.”
he didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. The evidence was literally right there.
You reached out, pressing a single fingertip against the bulge, relishing the way his whole body jerked at the contact. “How many times have you gotten off thinking about me, huh?” you whispered, tracing the outline of him through denim.
Chan let out a choked off whimper,His fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. You smirked, applying just enough pressure to make his breath hitch. “Answer me,” you murmured, dragging your nail lightly down the length of him. “How many?”
Chan’s lips parted in a gasp when your fingers flicked open the button of his jeans. The zipper came down next, teeth parting with a quiet hiss, and you watched the way his chest heaved, the flush creeping up his neck. “I—” he started, but you didn’t let him finish.
Your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers, tugging just enough to make his hips jerk forward involuntarily. "Look at that," you murmured, thumb brushing over the damp spot where pre-cum had already soaked through the fabric.
"So fucking eager." Chan's breath came in ragged bursts, you could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his muscles tensed when you finally pulled his boxers down just enough to free his cock, hard and flushed, already leaking.
"You gonna tell me?" you asked, wrapping your hand around him slowly, watching his eyelids flutter. "Or do I have to make you?"
You stroked him once, twice, your thumb swiping over the head. Chan's lips parted again, but all that came out was a broken, "T-too many," before his head thumped back against the shelf with a dull thud. making you grin before sinking to your knees in one smooth motion.
his fingers scrambled against the shelf behind him for purchase just as you took him into your mouth, a strangled gasp tore from his throat, followed by a frantic, whispered, “shit—shit—” before he slapped a hand over his own mouth, his eyes wide with panic.
You pulled off just enough to smirk up at him “Try to be quiet. Wouldn’t want anyone to hear how much of a slut you are for me, would you?” His answering whimper was pitiful, his free hand tangling in your hair as you swallowed him down again.
Chan’s breath came in short, ragged bursts through his nose, his chest heaving. Every time you hollowed your cheeks, every time your tongue curled around him just right, his hips jerked forward involuntarily, only for him to force himself still again with a shudder.
You could feel him straining, his cock throbbing against your tongue, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding back. “P-please,” he rasped, his voice wrecked, his hips stuttering forward helplessly.
“I—I can’t—fuck—”he stammered, but the words dissolved into a strangled groan as you took him deeper, your lips stretching around him. His palm left his mouth and scrambled against the shelf behind him, knocking over cleaning supplies that scattered across the floor with a clatter. “oh—,” he gasped, his voice raw, “ I—I’m gonna—”
You pulled off him with a wet pop, your lips glistening, and wrapped your fingers around his cock instead. he gasped, his hips jerking forward into your fist before he could stop himself.
“Nngh—fuck—” The words tore out of him a little too loudly. His hand flew back to his mouth, making you twist your wrist just the way you knew would make his thighs tremble, and watched his face contort with pleasure.
“W-wait,” he stammered, but his hips rocked forward anyway, fucking into your fist with desperate little thrusts. His cock was slick with spit and pre-cum, the sound of your hand moving over him obscenely loud in the cramped closet.
“I—I’m gonna—” His voice was wrecked, his words dissolving into a broken moan as you sped up, your thumb swiping over the head of his cock with every stroke.
His head thudded back against the shelf, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp, his eyelids fluttering shut — and then you stopped. your hand going still around him, your grip loosening.
Chan’s eyes flew open, his breath stuttering. His hips jerked forward searching for friction that wasn’t there anymore. “W-what—” he rasped, his voice hoarse, his face was flushed, his lips parted in disbelief, his brow furrowed like he couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.
You watched the confusion ripple across his face, his brows knitting together, his breath still ragged, cock twitching pathetically in your slack grip. Then, without a word, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, soft and chaste, like none of the last five minutes had happened. “Wh—?” he managed, his voice cracking.
Ignoring him, you tucked him back into his stupidly expensive chrome hearts boxers, your fingers brushing against his still hard cock just to feel him shudder. The zipper came up next, teeth clicking into place , then you smoothed his shirt down over his waistband
“There,” you murmured, patting his chest “All better.” Then you leaned in again, pressing a quick, closed-mouth kiss to his lips, the kind you’d give a boyfriend before heading to class.
“You—you can’t just—” he started, but you were already stepping into the hallway, tossing a wink over your shoulder.
a/n: im neck deep into the sub!Chris agenda rn (also requested by @zukaii since like feb)
in which you stumble upon the interesting story your quiet friend wrote about you, and you’re not… weirded out?
wc: 2.4k
tags: jeongin x f!reader. he’s pervy in a cute way, you’re open minded. subby innie bc it’s by me. male masturbation, handjob, climax control, he cums alot
note: for my lovely nonnie <3 everyone else, enjoy ig…
jeongin darted to the bathroom so quick you were worried he might have shit himself.
granted, you did just… impose on the man’s personal time. as soon as he opened the door for you, you could tell he’d been in the middle of something, and hadn’t expected for you to show up so soon after he texted that he was free to hang.
you probably should’ve given the message more than just a few minutes before heading over to his place, but you’ve been bored out of your mind and jeongin was the very first person to text you back.
jeongin is a good friend. you first met him through your shared class as the quiet, smiley boy who sits at the back of the lecture hall. he even tutored you briefly before you figured out you had the same friends and started spending time with each other more casually.
you’re no stranger to one-on-one time with jeongin — as your friendship started with him literally tutoring you in the library corner — and you’ve been inside his house briefly when dropping by with other friends before, but you haven’t just… invited yourself over like this.
you’re not offended that he was a bundle of nerves after letting you in, and less so about the fact he suddenly excused himself once you were situated in his room. if he won’t judge you for being so desperate to hang out with anyone, you certainly won’t judge him for being unprepared.
in the quiet, your gaze sweeps over his bedroom: his band posters, some stray dumbbells, a pile of clothes that were kicked to the corner in a hurry. you drift over to his desk and plop down into his gaming chair. you shake the mouse, surprised when his computer turns on and opens up to his browser, in… incognito mode. riiight.
jeongin’s one of those people who have a habit of forgetting to close their tabs, so you mindlessly read through the stack. it’s mostly just school stuff with some random youtube videos thrown in there, which is why the interestingly titled google doc goes unnoticed until you read through the tabs a second time.
girl, you’re my hallucination.
well alright. call you a bad person but you’re curious.
you click on it without thinking too much, and you….um, instantly read your own fucking name?
you’re too shellshocked to read the massive wall of text thoroughly, but you’ve skimmed enough as your eyes frantically dart over the screen to know exactly what this is.
it’s jeongin’s most sacred thoughts in words, his filthiest desires confessed in a little google doc. and it’s all. about. you.
you’re like the wind: stirring me up and then vanishing without a trace. i beg for you to appear before my eyes, even if it’s just a dream. hurry, hurry. come in and show me. kiss me until i’m breathless. take my lips between your teeth, your tongue into my throat. leave my neck with bruises — from your mouth, or from your hands. hurt me with a smile and i’ll know it’s real. touch me like ...
“shit!”
you were too engrossed in his homemade erotica novel to hear the door creak open when he stepped in. jeongin’s fussing about behind you, having recognised what you’re knee-deep in reading. he crosses the room hurriedly, intending to shut his pc off by the power button, but he stops just short of the chair in case you might get up and slap him for it.
you swivel the chair to face the nervous wreck of a boy. “woah. didn’t know you were a freak like that, jeongin.”
“please, i—” he covers his beet-red face in his hands, sounding like he’s on the verge of tears. “i’m so sorry. i’m disgusting. please, just let me delete it—”
“what? i didn’t say any of that.” you tell him matter-of-factly. that gets him to spread his fingers and peak at you through the gap. “i’m flattered, actually. you have a way with words.”
jeongin lets out a pained groan, and your lip twitches into a smirk.
“but, y’know, you could’ve just asked me.”
“….ask what?”
you narrow your eyes at him like he’s not understanding the most obvious answer in the world.
you nod to the computer, the doc still open and bright on the screen. “to give you the real thing? duh.”
✦⠀
“so, are you gonna do this hands free or..”
“be quiet.” jeongin murmurs through the hand half-shielding his blushing face. “this is embarrassing.”
his cock seems indifferent: standing upright, pre beading at the tip, skin flushed even redder than his face.
his other hand grips his thigh, too shy to reach for himself under your heavy stare. this is what he asked for, though.
after he realised you weren’t playing a cruel trick on him, and that you actually were attracted to him and willing to grant his dirty wishes true… jeongin had insisted he just touch himself in front of you.
it’s what he was doing anyways before you turned up on his doorstep, like, five minutes after he said he was free.
jeongin’s got chronic boner syndrome whenever he finds himself alone with you. at least back in the library when he’d tutor you, the table could shield everything his body was screaming that it wanted. unfortunately, now he must tug one out before seeing you, or else he’ll pop a rager mid-hangout.
and that’s what was in fact happening when he lead you into his room and watched you sit on his bed, like he wasn’t picturing bending you over said bed five minutes ago. he then made a quick break for the bathroom, and literally talked his boner down before returning to you.
after the most humiliating and humbling moment of his life, that brings him to now: pants down and cock up, sitting across from a very beautiful and impatient audience on his bed.
jeongin knew he’d bust the second your fingers even grazed him. so, instead of making an even bigger fool of himself with his years-long hallway crush turned close friend, this will have to do.
jeongin watches you sit up a little straighter when his hand moves to grip himself. he winces slightly — he’s already so goddamn hard, even after all his prior efforts in the bathroom to force his boner down.
he gathers all the slick on his head before sliding his fist down his length, biting his lower lip to muffle the noises threatening to spill. it feels embarrassingly too good with you watching him like this.
he strokes himself almost lazily before you speak up: “jeongin, stop acting coy with me. show me how you actually like it.”
damn, busted.
his hand stills at the base, and he looks like he’s spacing out before you realise he’s actually just staring at your tits.
you arch a brow. “do you still think i’m going to judge you? now? i won’t.”
he nods, meek. “…okay.”
twisting his wrist, jeongin brings his fist back up; coughing on a moan from just how much better it feels with you here. he starts to jerk himself off properly, like how he usually does with your face behind his eyelids. except they’re wide open and your face is right there — your eyes fixed on how he cranks his fist and grips himself like a vice.
it looks like it must hurt, and it probably would if he was dry, but he’s spilling so much pre over his knuckles that each stroke is punctuated with a loud squelch. not to mention his steady stream of whimpers and whines, the teeth biting a chunk out of his lip doing nothing to deter his body’s urge to let you hear how good he feels.
a little too good, you realise when his hips start jolting. he’s going to cum. you don’t want this to end so soon.
“wait,” you say, just speaking out loud without thinking, and jeongin does. his hand completely halts just before his tip, cock throbbing violently between his fingers as he just keeps squeezing. you’re taken aback at how he just sits there, humming needily while waiting for your next word; cock bright red with how he’s strangling it to not cum just yet.
your lip curls, and you’re curious just how far you can take this. he basically spelled out his kinks for you in that little google doc after all, so you know he’s not about to start complaining.
“how close?”
“right there.” he grits out breathlessly.
you nod, pleased. “good. not yet.”
his mouth turns to a little pout, and your smile grows even wider.
“pretty sure i read in writing that you liked this kind of thing.”
he groans, half from how fucking close he is and half from the embarrassment chipping away at his last shred of dignity. “please stop reminding me.”
you watch the effect of your words in real time as a fresh drop of pre spills from the tip and catches on his lithe fingers. you lick your lips subconsciously, wanting so badly to taste him — and his cock pulses at your tongue darting over your lips.
“keep going.” you tell him, and he does.
his eyes fix on your mouth as he jerks himself off: how your lips part ever so slightly as you watch, your tongue just behind your teeth in a grin.
his freehand comes down as his eyes flutter shut, using his pointer and middle finger to rub at his tip while imagining it’s your tongue instead — his other hand fucking himself so fast he can’t feel his wrist.
jeongin’s eyes fly open when he feels the soft pads of your fingers pressed to his tip. his hands stutter, and he can only watch as you replace the fingers on his tip with your own.
“keep going.” you tell him, and he tries.
instead of just his two fingers, it’s all of yours rubbing his tip as he jerks the rest of his length off. you even close your hand to rub him with your palm, and that’s nearly his undoing.
he lets out a loud, helpless noise and you remind him to hold it. if he thought he was going to cry when you confronted him for his stupid ass fanfiction, then he’s sure he might just sob now.
yet still, he gets out a nod, and every nerve end is on fire as he forces his orgasm down at your command. you even hold your thumb to his frenulum for extra measure, and god fucking damn does it hurt so good.
the little pleading noises leaving his mouth just spur you on and on. you really are a bad person, because you could do this for hours — getting him on the verge of toppling off the ledge just to pull him back again.
you gently pry off the hand he’s got wrapped around his length, before replacing it with your own again. you clench your hand to imitate just how tight he was gripping himself, and jeongin keels over with a moan.
you don’t give him enough time to recover before you bring your fist up, just to slam it back down and repeat the action. you’re moving only half as fast as he was, but it’s got him double fucked up just because it’s you.
his shaky hands find your legs as your fist fucks him; just gently kneading to keep himself grounded, maybe also to check that you’re real.
his stomach starts to flex as the hot coil inside him threatens to snap. deliriously, he bucks his hips in time with your hand — moaning out at the softness, the unfamiliar ridges of a hand that isn’t his own.
you’re just as quick to pull away. jeongin lets out something like a sob, cock bobbing and veins pulsing desperately.
he’s horny out of his fucking body and brain right now. you’ve really got no idea how deep his attraction for you runs, because all it takes is one glance at your satisfied smirk and his hands are pressing down on your thighs; hips bucking up into thin air, seeking the friction of absolutely anything. and just because you’re right there, it’s enough to have his orgasm slam into him.
you’re taken aback when the first spurt of cum hits the skin of your legs, just by the fact he came untouched. you catch his cock to jerk him off through it, and jeongin has so much to give. he just keeps on cumming. his head drops to your shoulder as he moans through it, the sheen of sweat from his forehead dampening your shirt.
he rocks his hips to meet each messy drag of your wrist. he’s heaving at your ear, and you almost think it’s over until the hot liquid shoots out for a second time. your arm burns, but you refuse to stop until he does.
his cum reduces to just dribbling over your knuckles by the time he’s spent. just to be sure, you rub your thumb over his tip, and jeongin lets out the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. he weakly tries to pull away from your hand, sensitive beyond belief, and you grant him some mercy when you let go.
when he finally catches his breath and raises his head from your shoulder, he wipes at his mouth — and you realise it wasn’t just sweat but drool making your shirt wet.
you giggle. jeongin looks like his eyes are blinking out of sync from just how hard he came.
“erh, sorry. that was so not sexy.” he grimaces.
“i beg to differ.” you press a kiss to his nose, and he cracks that dimpled smile you’ve grown to adore. “i’m insanely wet.”
he huffs out a laugh. “ah, you’re evil. trying to kill me.”
“that good?”
“i’ve never came twice in a row like that.” oh, wow. so that’s what that was. “just, uh, give me a minute. i won’t leave you hanging, i promise. i just need to recover before number three…”
you smirk, pouncing on jeongin. he falls back on the bed while you hover on top of him. “what makes you think you’ll cum again?”
'the moon is lonely because no one is awake when she is' the moon has hundredsofmillions of people with sleep disorders, partygoers, people with weird work schedules, people with new babies, people who have planned hangouts with friends in another timezone, people who just got into a new thing, etc etc etc etc to hang with every night ..
a/n: uhm.... yeah no i got nothing for this. it isn't proof read but i hope you enjoy.
warnings: PURE SMUTTT!!! ddba spoilers (ik its been 2 years but) threesome, double penetration, oral (f receiving), nicknames (honey, sweetheart, bambi), toxic yaoi, matt and dex DEFINITELY having something queer between them, set during ddba, jealousy, mattreader situationship, crying during sex, light angst because matt has commitment issues, cursing, canon typical violence, mentions of wounds and blood, just. a whole lot of filth.
word count: 5.0k
summary: you and dex teach matt how to share, which seems only fair considering how he refuses to make things exclusive between the two of you.
pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader x benjamin poindexter
now playing: casual - chappell roan
"is it casual now?/i know what you tell your friends/its casual, if its casual now/then, baby, get me off again/if it's casual."
For the past few months, you’ve been debating moving out of New York.
You love New York, but lately it’s turned into a city that you don’t recognize. Unsanctioned cops run rampant, everything is so expensive, and frankly, the dating scene is nothing to write home about.
In fact, you’re debating this very thing when there’s a knock on your window.
Which would be alarming if you weren’t fucking the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Well, you knew him as Matt Murdock first, but these days, he keeps coming back as The Devil. Ever since he went into hiding, You’ve become a bit of a stress reliever for Matt. And you care about him in a way you can barely admit to yourself, so..
You get up and make your way to the window. You push the panel up, and come face to face with the Devil himself, holding up the man you recognize as ‘Bullseye’.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You tell Matt, who gives you a sheepish grin.
“Well, it’s nice to see you too, sweetheart. Can we come in?”
“I cannot believe you brought him here,” You huff, but you move out of the way to let them in, and they stumble in, leaving a trail of blood—theirs or someone else’s, you’re not sure.
“We just need a place to lie low tonight,” Matt tries, and you let out a bitter scoff.
“Oh, so the two of you get to be ‘we’ but you and I are just friends?”
Matt doesn’t respond. You don’t know what you’re expecting, he never wants to talk about your relationship. Typical.
Matt drops Dex by the couch and you watch as Dex pulls himself up. He’s holding his side, and you’re sure he needs more medical attention than you can provide. His eyes trace up and down your figure, almost predatory. The corners of his mouth tilt up, a smirk shaping his face.
“Who’s your friend?” He asks Matt, and Matt pulls off his helmet before rolling his eyes.
“Fuck you.” Is all he responds, and then he turns his attention back to you, “We just need a place to stay for the night, lie low. We’ll be gone in the morning.” He promises, and in the corner of your mind, you recognize how bad of an idea this is. Dex is crazy. He’s bad news, trouble follows him—Hell, he is the trouble.
But you like Matt more than Matt likes you, and he knows that. So, maybe that’s why you respond,
“Okay. Okay, fine, fuck it.” You sigh, quickly moving to grab a pair of sweatpants that Matt had left the last time you’d seen each other, and you throw them at Dex who catches them with his free hand. “Go shower, bathrooms down the hall to the left, and quit staining my shit with blood.” You demand, and Dex nods, limping his way towards the bathroom.
He glances back when he gets to the door, the same uneasy smirk on his face.
“At least there’s one good person left in New York.” He says, before disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
As soon as he does, you turn to Matt.
“Okay, what the fuck?” You huff, and Matt sighs, as he peels off his gloves.
“I’m sorry,” he starts,
“Are you? Or are you sorry that I’m mad at you?” You accuse, mad at yourself too. Why do you keep opening the door to let him back in?
Matt steps towards you, and you can’t find it in yourself to step back. You let him gently rest his hand on your cheek, caressing your skin softly.
“I’m sorry about all of it.” He promises and then kisses your head. “I’m so sorry.”
And even if nothing changes, you think he means it.
“Matt..” Your voice is fragile, “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.” It breaks your heart every time, because you know he’s too lost in his grief, in his anger, in his guilt to ever be fully yours.
“No, no, sweetheart, c’mon, don’t,” he requests gently, “I know, I fucked up, but I won’t bring him back here again, I just.. I didn’t know where else to go.” He says honestly.
You look at him for a long minute.
“I’m going to my room,” you say softly, “You can fight over the couch, I don’t care.” Matt knows, even without listening to your heartbeat, that the last part of your response is a lie. But he lets you go anyways, because you were naïve kind enough to let them stay here for the night.
Your bedroom doesn’t offer much solitude, not when you know who’s in your bathroom, not when the man who can’t seem to commit to you is patiently waiting for you to change your mind. You change into an old tee shirt and a pair of shorts, and you try to block out the nagging voice that begs you to invite Matt into your bed.
Then, there’s a knock at your bedroom door.
You sigh.
“Matt, I’m really not in the mood to—” But when you look up, you don’t see your beloved not-boyfriend. Instead, you see Benjamin Poindexter, in just a pair of grey sweats, his hair damp, with a freshly bandaged wound near his abs. Your face flushes, and you look away.
“Not Matt,” He says, as if you hadn’t figured that out, “I wanted to say thank you for your.. hospitality. I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself.” And then, as if this entire situation is normal and there are no red flags about any of it, Dex walks towards where you sit on the bed and extends his hand. “I’m Benjamin Poindexter—But you can call me Dex.”
You, in your infinite wisdom, take his hand, and give it a shake. You offer your name, and as you retract your hand you respond,
“And I know who you are.” You promise. Dex’s jaw clenches.
“So, you and Murdock, huh?” he offers, trying to lessen the adversity you have towards him. You scoff.
“You don’t care about my relationship.” You start, but before he can respond, you continue, “Not that it’s really.. a relationship. I mean, we fuck, he stays the night, and then he leaves. Even if I wanted it to be more than that, he doesn’t. I’m not even sure he could, even if he wanted to.” It all spills out, almost involuntarily, and at some point in your rant, Dex sits next to you on your bed. Even if you don’t say as much, Dex hears the bitterness in your voice that betrays you.
“I’m sorry,” he starts, “That sounds really hard.”
You turn to look at him.
“I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this.”
“Well, Murdock certainly doesn’t want to.”
“You killed Foggy.”
Dex exhales. His fist clenches before he continues.
“Even if I defended myself to you, you wouldn’t change your mind. But you’re right. I did. It just.. It wasn’t as clean cut as everyone thinks.”
You scoff.
“Oh, spare me.” You mumble, “I’m already letting you stay here, I don’t have to see you as a good person.”
Dex echoes your scoff.
“Even if you did, you’d be wrong.”
“You don’t think you’re a good person?” You ask, more for clarification than anything.
“No.” Is Dex’s simple answer. “I know I’m not a good person.” Dex is staring at his hands, and there’s almost a part of you that feels bad for him. Almost.
“Well, as long as we’re on the same page.”
“What about you?” he asks, looking at you now. You blink.
“What about me?”
“Do you think you’re a good person?”
“I try. I really, really try.” You say genuinely.
“Murdock wouldn’t want anything to do with you if you weren’t.” He reminds, and you shake your head.
“He doesn’t want anything to do with me anyways.” You say, not looking at him now.
Dex’s hand comes up to brush a strand of your hair out of your face, and you’re thrown off by the gentleness of the action.
“You deserve better than that.” He starts, “I mean, you deserve better than me, too.”
“I don’t know,” You shrug, trying to be casual. Being desperate didn’t work with Matt, maybe being casual will work with Dex. Wait, why do you want anything to work with Dex? And yet, you don’t stop talking, “The sex is really good with him.” You confess, and Dex rolls his eyes in response.
“That’s it?”
“No, that’s not the only thing, but—” you’re cut off by Dex’s sudden movements, pushing you back against the bed and climbing on top of you, grabbing you by your wrists and pinning them together above your head.
Your eyes are wide with surprise, and your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest. Dex smiles. You’re scared. Dex can feel his cock harden as he realizes that.
“You scare easily, don’t you, Bambi?” he asks, “I like that.” From your position beneath him, you see something unfamiliar and dangerous glint in Dex’s eyes. You feel a lump in your throat, like your brain decided that ‘freeze’ was the correct course of action.
Dex leans his head down, and he licks along your skin, his tongue warm and wet against your collarbone, and then up your neck. His tongue moves with purpose, exactly where he wants it to, just like how his hands move in combat—that kind of freaks you out. It also turns you on a little.
Do you have a vigilante fetish?
You don’t get the chance to decide on an answer, because Dex bends his knee and presses his thigh between your legs, so you can feel the heat of his leg against your clothed cunt, pressing to apply just a little bit of pressure. You let out a gasp that might be a whine, and Dex chuckles against your skin, his grip on your wrists tightening.
He goes to say something else, but with a ‘whoosh’, a familiar billy club ricochets off your closet doors and towards Dex on the bed, hitting him in the head and knocking him off of you, onto the empty half—the half where Matt sleeps sometimes. Your face flushes, embarrassed that you forgot about Matt and turned on by the fact that he was listening to that.
“Well, it’s not really up to you, is it, Murdock?” Dex sneers, “It’s not like you’re her boyfriend, right?”
Matt ‘Commitment Issues’ Murdock? No, he isn’t your boyfriend. Maybe that’s why having Dex on top of you didn’t feel like cheating, even if it did feel… wrong. But also, very right. Ugh, sex and love is confusing, you really wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.
Instead of humoring Dex, Matt moves to the bed, and it’s only then do you really notice that Matt is only in his boxer briefs. Your face goes more red, as Matt sits down next to you, and Dex laughs at your embarrassment.
What? This is kind of a good night for him. Pretty girl. Pretty guy. He’s not dead. Could be worse.
Matt takes your hand in his, both of his hands cradling it like it’s precious.
“Honey, I’m sorry I brought him here, but if he did anything without—”
You blink, and then you pull your hand back.
“Actually,” you finally find your voice, “I think I did want that.” You glance to Dex, who you find still staring at you, and then you look back to Matt. “He’s right, you’re not my boyfriend.”
Matt’s face hardens as he does that stupid ‘mlem’ thing that he does with tongue to wet his lips, and your heart stutters.
“Look, I’m sorry—”
“You keep saying that.” You grumble, “But if you don’t want to commit to me, I shouldn’t have to choose between the both of you.” You offer, “So either learn how to share, or one of you can leave.”
Then, you pull your legs to your chest, and wrap your arms around your knees, resting your chin on top, making yourself as small as possible, waiting for Matt and Dex to figure their shit out. Silence fills the room.
“Well, Murdock, you heard the lady.” Dex shrugs, and moves towards you, but before he can get to you, Matt’s hand is in his hair, pulling without care. Dex lets out a hiss, and Matt only rolls his eyes.
“Listen to me. This is what she wants, so we’ll do it. But if you hurt her, if you do anything she doesn’t want, hell, if you’re mean to her, I will break every single bone in your body. And you do not want to test me on this. Not about her.” His voice is scarily even, possessive in a way that goes right to your core.
Sure, he’s not your boyfriend, but when he talks like that, he could fool you.
Matt lets go of his hair, practically shoving him away. Then, he turns his attention towards you. He smirks like he’s going to tease you.
“Don’t you dare,” You tell him. His hand goes to your leg, gently caressing it.
“I didn’t say anything, honey.” He reminds, before giving you one simple command, “C’mere.”
And in one motion, he’s pulling, and you’re moving towards him, quickly finding your place on his lap.
“Hi.” You smile. Heat radiates from you, and he can smell how wet you are. How turned on you are. Jealousy swirls in his chest, and he tries to ignore it. This is all his fault, anyways, he reminds himself. He’s the one who didn’t want to commit to you, and he’s the one who brought Dex here.
“Hey.” He smiles back. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours, “Because we don’t have to, We can—”
“Again, with the ‘we.’” You whisper back. “I wouldn’t ask for this unless I want it.” And although neither of you say it, you’re both keenly aware of Matt’s two biggest fears—that you’ll get hurt, or that you’ll like Dex more than you like him. He nods at your words.
He kisses your cheek quick, and then presses another to your lips. Then, you pull him in for a longer kiss, one hand on his bicep, the other resting on his neck.
You hum as he kisses you, his teeth nipping at your lips, tongue exploring your mouth. He whispers a confession against your lips,
“I missed you so much,” He says gently, one hand dipping under your tee shirt, caressing your side. His other hand comes up to your hair, beginning to comb through it. His touch is gentle, especially when compared to the way he handled Dex. “My pretty, beautiful girl,” he compliments, nipping at your lips.
Apparently, Dex is getting a bit lonely, though, because he kneels behind Matt, who’s hands are more than occupied roaming your body, and then his fingertips dance along Matt’s shoulders, just teasing him. You suspect Dex enjoys getting him riled up, because when Matt’s hand leaves your side to smack his hand away, still kissing you, Dex simply moves to the other shoulder.
You grin against Matt’s lips, and your hand leaves his arm to find Dex’s hand. You take it, and lace your fingers with his, squeezing softly, feeling his pulse from between his fingers. Dex blushes, finding the act strangely intimate.
He wants more. More of this. More of you.
“You’re being greedy.” He says to Matt, and he ignores him. He keeps kissing you, then Dex squeezes your hand, begging for your attention. You could melt at that, so you pull away from your kiss with Matt.
“He’s right,” You mumble, your free hand moving up Matt’s neck, playing with his hair. “You’re not sharing very well.” Matt stills, exhaling from his nose. He gives you a gentle kiss to your forehead, before moving his hands down to your thighs. He gives you a gentle pat, and you happily crawl off him, turning your attention to Dex.
Dex uses your clasped hands to pull you closer to him, right onto his lap like Matt had you just a moment ago. He grins and wraps his free arm around your waist.
“Hi.” He mimics your tone from earlier, and you mimic Matt’s possessive but affectionate,
“Hey.”
Matt rolls his eyes.
“Two brats. Jesus Christ.” He grumbles, listening to every single bit of your interaction—the way your heart stutters, the hitch in Dex’s throat. You’re soaking wet and Dex is hard as a rock, and it’s making him dizzy.
“Aw, we’re making him jealous, Bambi.” Dex coos, “He’s really not very good at sharing, is he?” He wonders.
You giggle, and Matt’s fingers itch to grab his billy club and hit Dex with it until he passes out.
“No, he’s not.” You hum, and Dex shrugs.
“No, he’s not.” He mumbles back, “But he’ll learn. We can teach him, Bambi.” He says, before pressing his lips against yours. Your free hand comes up to his hair, pushing it away from his face as your fingers comb through his hair. Dex is a pretty good kisser.
His hand rubs your back, tracing his fingers up and down your spine. A shiver runs down your spine, and Dex hums softly, kissing you, but his eyes stay glued to Matt, who is growing more and more jealous.
Dex moves his hand from your waist, unwilling to give up the feeling of your hand in his, down to your thigh, and then, to the waistband of your shorts. His fingers slip into your shorts, finding your clit, and rubbing circles onto it. You moan into his mouth, and this seems to egg him on, as he moves his fingers faster.
Then, without warning, Matt grabs you by your waist, pulling you away from Dex, and back onto his lap. Dex’s face turns into a scowl.
“You’re being selfish,” He spits at Matt, who scoffs, as his hands begin to explore your body,
“Why? Because I won’t let you finger her?”
“Because I was making Bambi feel so good and you couldn’t handle that,” He tells him, and Matt huffs.
“Fine.” He mumbles, and then he repositions you so you’re laying down. He’s kissing your neck as he pulls off your shorts and your panties in one swoop, before leaning down to lick your folds. He practically moans at the taste of you before he remembers what he’s doing, so he pulls away, and motions for Dex. “Be my guest.”
Dex doesn’t hesitate. He gets on his knees next to the bed and pulls your legs to the edge of the bed, hooking your knee over his shoulder. His tongue begins to lick across your folds as his nose bumps against your spine, making you moan.
Matt can hear your heartbeat as Dex’s tongue licks and laps up your juices, beating faster and faster. He leans down to kiss your lips softly, hushing your moans with his lips. His kisses are messy, full of saliva and lust, and you can feel his tongue everywhere—along your lips, along your teeth, across your mouth.
Matt decides that Dex isn’t doing a good enough job pleasing you, so while he kisses you, his hand comes down between your legs, and he takes a fistful of Dex’s hair, pushing his face further into your cunt, not giving him a chance to breathe.
He listens to the way Dex’s hips roll, grinding against your bed as he eats you out. Still kissing you, the other hand goes to your clit too, rubbing circles into it, knowing how close you are to your release.
Dex eats you out like a starved man as you roll your hips up and against his face, moans muffled by Matt’s lips. Your orgasm creeps up like a wave before it comes crashing down, coming over you suddenly and making a complete mess all over Dex’s face.
It’s only then does Matt let go of his hair, but he still massages your clit like it’s the only thing important to him. Then, he slowly pulls away from your lips, but he doesn’t go far.
“Feel better, honey?” He whispers softly, and you grin at him, nodding, before he smiles. “Good. Dex must’ve liked it too, he almost came in his pants over it.”
“Fuck you, Murdock.”
“Bite me.”
“Will both of you behave?” You wonder, not fucked out enough to realize that this is just as much about figuring out what’s going on between these two as it is about fucking you.
“You’re right, Bambi,” Dex says, his voice full of faux softness, “But Murdock holding me against your pretty pussy made a mess of my face.” He stands then, and you can see the wet spot on the sweatpants that used to be Matt’s. “Clean me up?” He wonders, and you oblige.
You lean forward and lick your own juices off of Dex’s face, your tongue moving right over that large scar on his cheek. Then, you push his hair out of his face and kiss him again—
You can taste yourself on his lips. He can taste Matt on yours.
Matt sits behind you, pulling you away from Dex and spinning you around. He presses a kiss to your lips before asking,
“Do you want both of us, honey? At the same time, or—”
You kiss him again, mumbling against his lips,
“Yes,” You mumble, “Both of you, same time.” You say softly, and Dex’s fingers move to peel your shirt off, as Matt takes his cock out of his boxers. He guides his cock to your folds and slips inside of you, groaning as he eases you onto his cock fully. He’s relishing in the way your cunt clenches around him.
Behind you, Dex’s hands squeeze the fat of your ass, beginning to knead and massage before he takes one hand, spits on it, before spreading his spit along your backside. Then, he rids himself of the sweatpants that have been lended to him, as he aligns his cock with your hole.
Matt kisses you quick and tells you,
“You gotta relax for me, baby,” he coos, “It’s gonna be harder to adjust when he’s inside you,” he says, his fingers going to massage your clit again. You try to breathe, focusing on the way Matt’s fingers feel, and not the pressure coming from behind. You whimper softly the sensation almost too much for a second.
“Are you okay, Bambi?” Dex mumbles, pressing kisses along your shoulder. You let out a moan as he moves his hips a bit, and he shushes you softly, “it’s okay,” he says gently. Matt hates how you relax against him as he lets you adjust.
After a few minutes pass, silence filling the air besides for the sound of each of them taking time to kiss one side of your shoulder.
“I’m okay,” You finally manage out, “You can move.” You tell them, and Dex wastes no time as he takes his time, starting his thrusts slowly, before he picks up the pace. The sound of your moans fill the air as Matt begins to roll his hips as well, sliding in and out of you.
“God, you’re so good for me, Bambi,” Dex grumbles, “Perfect, pretty pussy.. she’s clenching around me, baby, like she was made for me,” He hums, “Bet Murdock’s never fucked this pretty cunt like she deserves,” He says, hazel eyes watching for Matt’s reaction.
And Matt gives him a good one.
“Lean forward for me, sweetheart,” Matt instructs softly, and you melt into him, inhaling the scent of sweat, cologne, and grief. Then, with his hand that does not hold you, he reels back and punches Dex in the face.
The hit lands with a sickening crack, and you feel Dex’s cock twitch inside you.
He laughs, before grabbing you and pulling you back, away from Matt and against his chest.
“I think we made him mad, Bambi.” He mumbles, blood dripping from his nose and onto your shoulder. He glances down, realizing the mess he’s made, and he lets out something like a chuckle. “Oops.” He says, before leaning down and licking the blood off your shoulder.
You whine, a shiver running down your spine at the sensation. Your brain is fuzzy, far away, as you ask,
“You’re mad at me?” It comes out wobbly, like you’re on the verge of tears, and Matt, no matter how badly he wants to beat the shit out of Dex, shakes his head before your hand comes up to gently caress your face,
“No, honey, I’m not mad at you, never,” He coos, taking one of your hands and bringing it to his lips. “But Dex might just be a bigger brat than you are, and I can’t have him being a bad influence on you,” he says, and Dex just snickers.
“I think we’ve fucked her a little too dumb to really understand you, Murdock,” But his pace is unrelenting. You’re literally doing nothing except sitting there, as these two fuck your brains out while they itch to hit each other, and tears brim your eyes as you get close to your second orgasm of the night, Matt still rubbing circles into your tortured clit.
“’m close,” You whine, and Matt nods.
“I know, honey, can feel you clenching around me,” he groans, “C’mon baby, let go for me,” he hums, and one hand reaches up to find Dex’s face, where he catches your fingers in his mouth and licks them affectionately, like a stray dog your not-boyfriend has brought home.
Your other hand comes up to Matt’s face, caressing it softly as he tilts his head and presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. You clench around him again and let out a euphoric moan as you cum around his cock, a few tears falling.
Matt leans forward and licks your tears off your face, before kissing your cheek and telling you,
“Just a few more minutes, just let me cum inside of you, please,” he gasps, and you nod, as their paces begin to match up, and your fucked out brain goes a bit fuzzy as Dex finishes deep inside of you, leaning his forehead on your shoulder when he comes to a stop, still buried deep inside of you, but not moving.
Matt rolls his hips a few more times before he cums as well, stuffing you full as he lets out a gasping moan, his stubble rough against your cheek.
For a long moment, silence fills the room. Your bedroom reeks of sex, jealousy and tears. Your brain is still fuzzy, when Dex slowly pulls out of you, which causes you to whine again.
“I know, Bambi, I’m sorry.” He says it so genuinely, you’re inclined to believe him, especially when he kisses your shoulder again. “You were perfect. Did so well for us.” Then, he glances to Matt, “Where does she keep her towels?”
In his quiet, fucked out voice, a little hoarse from a long night of screaming at bad guys, and then moaning into your skin, Matt responds, “Bathroom, in the closet.”
Dex doesn’t say much else as he walks out, going across your apartment to find a towel.
Matt takes the time to hold you close, still inside of you. His arms wrap around you as he kisses you gently.
“Honey?” he says gently, “You still with me?”
You let out a soft hum of acknowledgement.
“Yeah.” You respond softly, beginning to play with his hair.
“Good.” He kisses your forehead. “You did so well for me, baby, you’re perfect. Can’t believe I ever leave you alone.. ‘m sorry for not wanting to—”
You kiss him to shut him up and tell him,
“Tell me later.” You request, and he nods, before shifting your position so you’re laying back, as he slips out of you. You whimper at the loss of contact as Dex comes back, towels in hand. He hands one to Matt to clean himself up and receives no thank you.
He slips his boxers back on as Matt slips his own on before getting up and disappearing back into your apartment. Dex sits next to you on the bed and cleans you up, wiping the sweat off of you first, and then cleaning the cum off your legs.
“Doin’ okay, Bambi?”
You nod.
“Come lay with me?”
Dex scoffs.
“I’m not much of a cuddler, ba--” he’s cut off by you grabbing his arm and pulling him onto the bed with a laugh. He huffs, shaking his head. He lays next to you, pulling you close to him, an arm around your waist. “You’re trouble.”
You grin.
“Takes one to know one.” You remind.
Matt comes back with water, throwing it at Dex, who catches it without saying thank you either. He hands one to you, letting you take small sips of it, before he hands you a chocolate bar he found in your fridge. You take it, and begin to pull it apart.
You take a square as Matt lays next to you, so you’re squished between the pair of them. You offer Dex a piece, who opens his mouth wordlessly, his lips closing around your fingers as he savors the taste.
You offer one to Matt next, even though you know he doesn’t like this brand, because you know he hates to be left out even more. He opens his mouth, and you place a piece of chocolate on his tongue.
“Tastes sweet,” he kisses you quick, “Just like you.”
Dex scoffs.
“You’re so fucking corny, Murdock.”
You giggle, and Matt feels the anger dissipate from his chest. He’ll have to get Dex back another time, when you aren’t laying naked between them.
People who think sheep are killed for their wool are so hilarious to me. Does your barber slit your throat whenever you get a haircut?? Are you a returning customer to Sweeney Todd? Lmao it grows back, fools.
This is completely ignoring the fact that the sheep's soul is stored in its wool. So sure, the body remains, but the spirit, the essence of the sheep, that's gone forever, and then as the wool regrows a new soul moves in.
