As your fiancĂŠ kissed his way down from your jaw toward the pit of your stomach, the whispered words slipping from between his lips against your skin made your muscles relax.
You threaded your fingers through Dexâs dirty blond hair. His warm breath brushed softly across your skin.
These were the moments you lived forâlying in bed with Dex, both of you in nothing but your underwear, listening to the secret words he murmured against your skin.
You knew who the man gently kissing you really was. Even if he had left that life behind for your sake, his hands were still stained with blood. Every time he touched you, you could almost feel that blood dripping onto your own skin.
âBaby,â you said gently, âwe need to get up.â
Dex grumbled and pulled you closer. A laugh slipped from your lips as you wrapped your arms around him.
âWeâve got things to do, darling.â
Dex sat up immediately. The disappointment on his face was impossible to miss. You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before slipping free from his arms and climbing out of bed.
âStay.â
âAs much as Iâd love to, I canât. You know that, Dexy.â
Dex let out an irritated sigh and sat up. When he had agreed to run away with you and start a completely new life in another country, he had believed it meant heâd earned the right to hold you forever.
âI have sculptures to finish. If the orders are late, you know how angry the Germans get.â
He rolled his eyes.
âYeah, fucking Germans. I can kill them al for you.â
You raised a finger to your lips. âShh. Donât be racist.â
Dex grinned and flopped back onto the pillow while you put one of your favorite records on the turntable and continued getting ready.
Your room was filled with sculptures you had made. Dex loved displaying your work, and he loved watching you create it. Just as you had rebuilt him from the ground up, watching those magical hands shape flawless works of art stirred feelings in him he could never put into words.
By the time you had nearly finished getting ready, Dex finally got out of bed. Wrapping his arms around you from behind, he held you as you swayed to the rhythm of the record.
âIf you ever leave me,â he whispered into your ear, âIâll kill myself.â You rolled your eyes. âIâm never going to leave you, Dex. Stop talking.â
Dex was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke again, his voice so soft it sounded like he was reassuringâor confessingâto himself more than to you.
âWhat if you die? What if I canât protect you?â
âDex, you watch me twenty-four hours a day.â
âWhat if itâs something I canât stop?â
You rolled your eyes again and turned to face him.
âI see youâre in a cheerful mood this morning.â
He gave a faint smile, but the worry in his eyes never faded. You cupped his face in your hands. He placed his own hand over yours, gently brushing the ring on your ring finger with his thumb.
âIâm here. Iâm not going anywhere.â
Closing his eyes, he whispered,
âYouâre here... youâre not going anywhere.â
Summary: Your boyfriend acts as your guardian angel while you naively believe it's good karma.
Tags: established relationship, fluff (so corny, i warn you), slightly Christine and Phantom of the opera vibes, clueless and naive reader, let's pretend Bullseye is not so well known that the reader will not know that is Poindexter, me trying to write about the concept of karma and dharma (I hope I did it right)
1.9k word count
You've always believed in karma and that bad people always get what they deserve sooner or later. What goes around comes around.
That's why you didn't bother defending yourself or answering rudely. You simply waited for the universe to work its magic.
Luckily for you, you had a man who was roughly six feet tall, with a piercing gaze and broad muscles. In other words, Benjamin Poindexter.
He was always by your side when you needed him most. He'd place a hand on your lower back as you walked down the street, take your arm as you crossed the street, and so on. And all you had to worry about was looking ahead and smiling, because your boyfriend would do all the work for you. With a single, killer glare, he kept the ill-intentioned at bay.
What you didn't know is that your boyfriend was actually a masked assassin who, luckily, was trying to balance the scales by only killing bad people. Something's better than nothing, right?
You thought he simply worked in an office, as he once told you. And that he occasionally ran errands and helped the neighbors, like the good citizen he was, which touched you deeply. The only thing that sometimes seemed strange to you was that he occasionally came home very late, sometimes even with bruises and cuts. But Dex would allay your worries by simply saying that he had bumped into something or that someone had tried to mug him, which didn't completely reassure you, but you trusted him.
Dex couldn't tell you the truth. He was afraid you'd reject him and run away. He didn't want to change your perspective of him. To you, Dex was your guardian angel, your protector, your bodyguard, and so onâsomeone important you could trust. That's why he helped you whenever he could... in his own way.
A few weeks ago, as usual, the two of you sat on the couch watching TV while you told him about your day and interests. That day he learned about karma.
"So basically it's a law of cause and effect. Everything you say or do will have a consequence; it's a natural law of life. If you did something bad, life will give you back what you gaveâthat's karma. But if you've done good deeds, you'll get good rewards! And that's called dharma. Isn't that interesting?" you exclaim, gesturing enthusiastically as you rest your outstretched legs in his lap.
Dex was looking at you instead of the TV as his calloused hands caressed your calves. He nodded silently, lost in thought, at everything you said. Karma and Dharma. That gave him something to think about.
From that day on, your boyfriend would start doing little things for you. He would act like an omnipresent and protective being. You were his North Star, his most precious person, and the sweetest and kindest worm he had ever known. How could he not protect you? So, every time you walked alone, he would secretly follow you, just to notice how a man on the street had been incredibly rude to you simply because you had accidentally bumped into him in a moment of distraction. And when you arrived home, sadly recounting your misfortune, he would listen with a tense jaw, even though he already knew because he had seen it with his own eyes. The next day, you would happen to learn from the newspaper that a flowerpot had fallen on the same man's head in the middle of the street, the result of a mysterious hand pushing the pot (accidentally?), although no one saw anything. Oops!. Luckily, the man didn't die; he only suffered a concussion.
And so the days passed, with Dex there to teach everyone who had wronged you a lesson. Like you said, bad actions have bad consequences, right? It's just that he couldn't wait for karma to take its course. He was faster and had better aim.
Once, you and Dex were waiting in line at the bank when someone pushed their way in front of you. You tried to tell him you were there first, but he ignored you. Your boyfriend, feigning indifference, started whistling as he discreetly took a coin from his pocket. When he saw a girl rollerblading by, he tossed the coin toward her skates without anyone noticing. This caused her to trip and bump into the man in front of you, knocking him to the ground. As he fell, the man hit his nose and, with a grunt, pinched the bridge to stop the bleeding. The woman, very upset, offered to take him to the hospital. This made the place in line in front of you empty again. Boom, butterfly effect. The corner of Dex's lip turned up in a small smirk as you watched everything with wide eyes, completely unaware of your boyfriend's antics.
And not only that, Dex also wanted to reward you for being such a good person. He noticed when you gave alms to homeless people or returned a toy a child had lost in the street. So, without you even realizing it, he'd drop your favorite candy into your bag or pockets, or you'd unexpectedly find money in your wallet.
"DEX, DEX, DEX!" you came running in one day like a madwoman, gesturing wildly. He turned around, slightly startled.
"What's wrong?" he asked, sounding somewhat worried.
"You won't believe what happened today! I was going to the supermarket and there was an elderly lady coming out with a really heavy bag. Suddenly the bag ripped open and all the oranges and apples rolled out. You can't imagine how upset she was, poor thing! Luckily I was able to help her pick up all the fruit, although I had to chase one orange for a whole block!" You laugh softly. "But that's not all! After I finished buying what I needed, I found... this!" you exclaim, pulling something out of your tote bag.
Wrapped in tissue paper was a delicate pink hibiscus flower with a yellow center. The tissue had kept it fresh.
"Isn't it beautiful!" you say enthusiastically. "It was lying right in front of me on the sidewalk even though there wasn't a hibiscus tree nearby. I think it was a gift from the universe!"
Dex chuckled softly and took the flower between his fingers. The one he himself had picked from the tree near a house and placed on the sidewalk where he knew you would pass. With a ceremonious slowness, he raised his hand and placed the flower behind your ear, pausing a little longer than necessary.
"It's just what you deserve..." he murmured, and his thumb slid down to caress your cheek.
You smiled shyly, shrugging your shoulders and clicking your tongue while swatting away a fly, dismissing it as unimportant. Then you led your boyfriend by the hand toward the sofa.
"Oh, and now comes the funniest part..." you continue. "Yesterday I went to that bar we saw the other day, remember? And well... A man accidentally spilled his drink on me, soaking my new blouse," you say shyly, rubbing one shoulder. "He also swore to me a bit, but I think he was too drunk." You shake your head and look at him. "Anyway, the thing is, when I left there I heard that man yelling, complaining that his car had been damaged. Someone had slashed all four tires! Can you believe it?!"
Dex feigned surprise, raising his eyebrows once. Oh, of course he could believe it. He'd been there himself, lurking like a cat in the shadows, watching everything through his rifle scope. He hadn't even had to be close to throw his knives at the tires of that idiot's car.
And so the days went by, with each time someone bothered you, something bad happening to them, and in return for that mistreatment, something good coming your way. Scratched cars, broken bones, sprains for various people, and for you, flowers, sweets, found banknotes, even a bubble show floating through the sky. And when you returned home, he had to listen to you talk about something he already knew, and it broke his heart a little to see you speak so timidly and humbly about something that had bothered you but that you hadn't taken seriously. It didn't matter; if it didn't care you, he would still be there to make you feel better, like an invisible, benevolent hand.
But every plan has a flaw. I don't know how, but one day you discovered him, you uncovered his tricks. Perhaps you put two and two together, perhaps he had been careless and you had noticed him slipping a candy into your tote bag. Whatever the reason, now he couldn't escape and would have to face the consequences.
"Dex..." you said one day in a slightly reproachful tone while you were standing with your arms crossed in the middle of the room
He turned away, feigning indifference, chin held high. "Yes?" he murmured softly.
"I know it was you..." you say, taking a step closer to him.
"What are you talking about?" he asks, playing dumb.
You sigh, "I know you were leaving me gifts... and not only that, you were also the one who hurt the people who made me feel bad, right?"
"Hurt is a strong word..." he said with a grimace.
"Dex, a man literally ended up in the hospital..."
He shrugged. "It was just a broken leg"
You look at him, tilting your head and putting your hands on your hips. "Listen, I don't know how you did it, but you didn't have to..."
"No, I think so," he says, taking a step forward and closing the distance. "Do you think I like knowing that someone made you feel bad just because you were too kind to stand up for yourself? Do you know how that makes me feel? Knowing that some bastard yelled at you for no reason?" he says hoarsely, his jaw tense.
You noticed he was upset, but not with you. And that protective instinct gave you a tingle in your chest. Then he lowered his gaze to take your hands.
"I was just... just trying to protect you. You're... a really sweet person. You didn't deserve all those bad things," he said in a softer tone, looking into your eyes.
Hearing him speak like that, a touched pout trembled on your lower lip. Your gaze softened and became tender. In a flash, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, embracing his neck. Dex grunted in surprise but wrapped his arms around your back, rubbing circles.
"You're a sweet and good person too, Dex... in your own way," you murmur with a small chuckle.
With everything cleared up, the days passed, and Dex no longer interfered so much in your life with all that talk of karma and dharma. Although he still stuck close to you, and if anyone bothered you again, he personally defended you verbally. However, you had learned to raise your voice and demand respect, even if only a little.
But one day, as he was leaving for work, he put his Bullseye suit in his bag. And while rearranging things to make room, he found a neatly folded tissue. Dex didn't remember putting that there. Carefully, he unfolded it and found a small note next to a tiny cherry blossom. Frowning, he read the note in your handwriting.
This game can be played by two people. I think you also deserve a reward for your good deeds ;)
Your boyfriend's frown disappeared and a soft, almost tender smile appeared, as he caressed the petal of the delicate flower with his thumb.
Military!Dex who has zero actual social skills in the barracks, but the second anyone asks about home he lights up like a damn Christmas tree. Heâs that guy pulling out his wallet to show off picture after picture of you â you smiling at the camera, you in his old hoodie, you kissing his cheek. âSheâs the best thing that ever happened to me,â he brags, voice full of rare, genuine pride. The other guys tease him for being whipped, but he doesnât care. Talking about you is the only time he feels normal.
Military!Dex who will never, ever admit to you that he sometimes hires private eyes to keep tabs while heâs deployed. He tells himself itâs just worry. Heâs halfway across the world with a rifle in his hands and nightmares in his head; he just needs to know youâre safe, that youâre waiting for him, that no oneâs trying to take you away. Every report that comes back saying youâre okay lets him breathe a little easier.
Military!Dex who used to nervously twirl a challenge coin between his knuckles to keep his hands busy and his mind steady. The day he decided to propose, he replaced that coin with your engagement ring. Now when the anxiety creeps in, he spins the ring on its chain around his neck instead â a constant reminder of you, that youâre his, that he has something worth coming home to.
Military!Dex who writes you letters that are almost painfully honest at 0300 when he canât sleep. He never sends the ones where he sounds too broken. Instead he sends the ones where he tells you heâs counting down the days, that heâs being careful behind the scope, that heâs trying to be better for you.
Military!Dex who fucks you like crazy the second heâs back on American soil. The insecurity hits hardest after long deployments â heâs convinced you could do better, but the way you look at him and the way you moan his name keeps the darkness quiet.
Military!Dex who keeps a photo of you tucked inside his helmet. During long, silent hours on overwatch, he pulls it out and traces your face with his thumb. Youâre the only thing that makes the violent thoughts fade. His reason to keep his aim true and his mind intact.
Summary: How you thought you could end your relationship with Dex was a mystery to him. Didnât you know he would always come back for you? Didnât you know that you belonged to him?
Warnings: Ex-boyfriend!dex, toxicity, dark content, stalking, smut, dubious consent, a little somnophillia?, oral (fem receiving)
Authorâs Note: divider by @saradika-graphics. hi!! very very nervous to post this, but the hyper fixation of bullseye has been strong and I canât get him out of my head. Hope you enjoy x
Benjamin Poindexter. A veteran soldier. A former FBI agent. And most recently, your ex-boyfriend.
It had been a volatile breakup. Dex was intense, while you were breezy and happy-go-lucky. Where you were outgoing, Dex was a fortress of solitude, who put you on a pillar of excellence. He made you a deity. Something so spiritually powerful it scared you. In Dexâs eyes, you could do no wrong. He would follow you to the ends of the earth if it was what you wished.Â
His expectations werenât attainable. Dex spoke of you as though you belonged with the higher powers religion based their ideals upon. He treated you like a fallen angel, simply too beautiful for this world.Â
Dex was fervent in his adoration of you, in making you a pinnacle of his life. It was in the way he catalogued your facial expressions as they flashed across your face, knowing how you felt before you did. Like he could read your mind. It was proven in the obsession of keeping you safe, making sure he knew where you were at all times. Heâd spend any spare moments he had with you, because as he had put it so many times, he felt like he couldnât breathe without you.Â
Thatâs why you had ended it, you had told him.
For you, it became too much.
You had tried so delicately to end the relationship. With sweet words and appreciation of the time spent together. But Dex had taken it like a bullet to the heart no matter how honeyed your apologies poured out. His eyes had darkened, his breaths had become unsteady, his fists had tightened against the upholstery of your sofa.Â
Dex was a storm, ready to wreak total
destruction. And you werenât ready for it.Â
Your first mistake was leaving your window open.Â
Naive as you were, it worked out in Dexâs favour. Of course, he couldâve entered your apartment whether you took better care to lock up or not. Though, you made it a hell of a lot easier for him to gain access and for that, he was grateful.Â
See, Dex told himself internally. She does care about you. Sheâs still thinking of you. Sheâs practically letting you in.Â
It was simple enough for Dex to explain away the doubts lingering in his mind. His moral compass wasnât broken, you just made it work better. You guided him. Just like you paved the way for him to enter your home while you were sleeping.Â
The invitation was there.Â
And how you looked so beautiful, chest slowly rising and falling. The silk of your camisole melted into your skin, the white material clinging to the curves of your breasts as your nipples stood to attention. It was a sight for sore eyes.Â
Luckily, Dexâs eyes had seen too many horrors and you were the balm to heal his wounds.Â
The day you left him, Dex felt not only his heart shatter, but also his mind. You were his buoy in an open endless sea, a beacon in the night calling him home to safety. And a man so reliant on his North Star, who was suddenly deprived of that shining light, was a dangerous one.Â
Frayed nerves. Destructive tendencies. A whole lot to lose.Â
It was unfair. An injustice of Dexâs love youâd so easily tossed aside.Â
But it was okay. Dex wasnât angry. You were just confused. Taken aback by the sincerity of his affections and how deeply they ran. You werenât used to it, always settling for less than you deserved.Â
Men hadnât always been kind to you. Heâd know of course. Dex had always watched over you. He couldnât remember what life was like before you graced him with your presence.Â
So it was time for Dex to prove that he knew what you needed. What was best for you.Â
Your second mistake was your choice in nightwear.Â
It wasnât anything different to what youâd usually wear on a night where the breeze danced through the voils of your window, goosebumps echoing along your soft skin.Â
But how silly of you to leave yourself so uncovered when Dex had warned you an inconsequential amount of times about the monsters that lurked in the night.Â
Luckily, you neednât worry. Dex would always be around to protect you. Â
Stood in your bedroom, Dex inhaled. Honey and caramel incense, the lotion you lathered into your body after a shower. How heâd missed it dearly. How he could drown in your scent and drag you with him to keep you for eternity.Â
It had been too long. A lifetime without you it felt. The muscle in his jaw ticked while he watched you rest so peacefully. Why werenât you itching with unease in the middle of the night like he was? How could you be so content without him by your side?Â
It wouldnât do. Dex needed you to crave him as he did you. He needed you to feel the same raw ache that had created a hole in his chest.Â
Footsteps light, Dex crept towards the edge of your bed, sheets wrapped around you lightly. You were a deep sleeper, your situational awareness on mute in the early hours.Â
It was why the phantom touch of his fingers, ghosting over the inside of your upper thigh went unnoticed by you.Â
Plump. Buttery. So damn delicate. A shudder ran down Dexâs spine. His first touch of you in a while. Like an addict finally reuniting with its downfall.Â
Trails of constellations etched into your skin by Dexâs fingertips, each manoeuvre carefully crafted in his head. He swallowed roughly, his mind was finally starting to quieten.Â
Becoming more comfortable, Dexâs hands grew more desperate, more inclined to grasp instead of trace. To squeeze rather than brush.
It was no surprise that he was quick to lift the sheets covering your form, hiding your beauty away from him. Your legs were already spread apart slightly and so resting his palms in the divot behind each of your knees, Dex opened you up further, revealing the absence of any underwear as the camisole rode up your body.Â
Theyâre so uncomfortable, Ben. I need to feel free while Iâm sleeping, you know? Dex could hear the sweet melody of your voice replaying back to him in his own head. He had appreciated it back then, how you so effortlessly bent to his will when his hand smoothed over your bare hip. How pliable you became when his cock found itself growing hard against the rump of your ass and begged for your tight, warm hole to accommodate him.Â
And so how he appreciated it now, no barrier to keep him away; no unnecessary layer to stop him from reclaiming what was rightfully his.Â
It was almost like you knew Dex would come back.Â
Swallowing the saliva that was rapidly gathering over his tongue, Dex swallowed. The pretty sight of your soft folds, framed with the trimmed hair over your pubic bone overwhelmed him. He had gone without you for so long.Â
Dex gently secured his hands in the crease between your thigh and crotch on each side of your legs, his thumbs naturally resting next to your hole. He couldnât help but smile when you shifted, your pussy twitching as though to say welcome home.Â
Your slumber wouldnât last long, Dex knew that â not with what he came to do. But he was tired of holding back, riddled with restlessness the longer he held out.Â
And he had reached the end of his tether. The band had snapped.Â
Wasting no more time, Dex rested himself on his stomach between your legs, opening your pussy up to him, and finally burying his nose into your sex to breathe you in.Â
âFuck,â Dexâs voice was a growl in the calm night. âYou smell just as good as I remember.âÂ
From then, Dexâs focus was infiltrated. No longer did the honking cars outside your apartment cause him to grind his teeth. No more did the harsh lights of the city billboards make his eyes sting with harshness. In that moment, Dexâs mind liquefied in the recesses of the heaven between your thighs. His alter.Â
His arms tightened around your legs, hands rested against your stomach as his tongue rolled over your sex. Reunited at last.Â
Dex groaned into you, the harsh sound no doubt vibrated against you. It didnât matter that your muscles jumped in awareness or if your chest began to heave, nothing would stop him now.Â
Even as he started to grind himself against the mattress without shame, Dex still held the immaculate precision of his tongue lathering over your folds, the tip flicking against what he knew was your sensitive clit.Â
While his body may well be greedy, he was at least loyal to a fault â destined to always belong to you.Â
âB-Ben?â Your voice trembled and oh, how Dex loved you all the more for it. âIs that you?âÂ
Dex sighed contentedly. You still knew his touch. âYeah. Itâs me, sweetheart.â
He felt the muscles in your legs become more stiff all of a sudden. âWhatâWhat are you doingâ?â Though you tried to sound accusatory, your exclamations couldnât help but be airy â light with what could only be pleasure. âH-How did you even get in?â
âShh. Donât worry about that. Just relax, youâre safe with me.âÂ
Dex continued his motions, beginning to suction his lips around your engorged clit while he held you tight when you began to squirm.Â
Your breaths came out more panicked, more rushed. You tried to get away. âBen, I donâtâThis isnât right, please stopââÂ
âYou donât want that.â Dex pressed kisses over the meat of your thighs. âYou want me. You canât hide it, just look how much youâre showing me you need this.âÂ
Because while you may have tried to run away, your body remembered Dex perfectly. You couldnât shy away from the wetness leaking out of your pulsing hole. Couldnât ignore how your juices had coated the skin of Dexâs chin.Â
And as much as you tossed and turned, attempting to shake off the physical hold Dex had on you, you hadnât even realised how you began to follow his mouth. How your hips gyrated in rhythm with each stroke of his tongue, purring for more.Â
âNoâ,â tears rolled down your cheeks in rivulets, your head shaking from side to side against the pillow. âBen, stopââ
âYou thought you could just leave me, huh? Thought you could call it quits and end us?â Your cries went ignored as Dex became more cruel with each suck, his fingers beginning to circle your entrance. âThatâs not the way this works, sweetheart. You're mine.âÂ
Your thighs began to shake just as Dex pushed two fingers in at once, merciless and brutal, until his knuckles sat against you.Â
âAlways have been.âÂ
Beginning to grind them, Dex curved his fingers against your walls, making sure to hit the spot he hadnât forgotten.Â
âAlways will be.âÂ
He was ruthless, brutal with each undulation of his fingers, barely removing them from your pussy. You couldnât even keep your whimpers down, each whine and moan like ecstasy to Dex.Â
Maybe it was unorthodox to gift you enough pleasure that you would forget any previous hesitancy. To make you remember how good you had it with Dex. But he didnât care enough to let it hold space in his mind.Â
Dex would do whatever it took to get you back.Â
He looked up at you, hair tousled, eyes wide with fear and yet a spark of something else.Â
It was your third mistake to unveil the shy excitement in your eyes. Â
Your body still shook, your nervous system rewiring itself as your walls contracted around his fingers with the upcoming gratification of an orgasm. But beneath the terror, the horror of Dexâs actions, he could see behind the fog, to the exhilaration and eager anticipation digging its talons into you.Â
You were made for him.Â
Benjamin Pointdexter may have haunted you.Â
Benjamin Pointdexterâs love may have suffocated you.Â
But in the midst of clawing your way back for breath, you enjoyed the feel of his scratches marking you. Dex knew it.
Dex knew you.
And as fire burned its way through your veins with your release, Dexâs eyes rolled into the back of his head. Drinking you in like he was dehydrated and you were the water he needed to survive.Â
Your stomach caved in, barely able to inhale any air with how powerful your orgasm was. It was seconds after your muscles finally had a chance to relax before Dex crawled his way up your body, his clothes somehow already shedded and neatly folded upon the chair, and kissed away the tracks still staining your cheeks from your tears while his bare cock bobbed against your pussy.Â
Eerily calm, Dex whispered, âYouâre not leaving me again. Do you understand?âÂ
He watched intently as your throat constricted around the lump in your throat. âYes, Ben. I-I promise. Iâm sorry.âÂ
Stroking your hair, Dex smiled, already edging the tip of his cock to rest upon your weeping entrance. âGood. Because you canât escape me, sweetheart. I love you too much to let you go.âÂ
frank castle loves babying a girl with an attitude and iâll stand by that
Youâve always beenâŚnot mean, necessarily, just a little snappy. People are fucking stupid and you shouldnât have to deal with that the wonderful, gorgeous, princess you are.
Itâs one of the things Frank loves about you, the permanent pout on your lips. He loves being the one that deals with your attitude and smooths the crease between your eyebrows. He loves being the one you go to to hear yes because you donât know how to be told no.
Frank can always tell when youâre in a bit of an extra mood. Like this morning when he finds you eating a bagel over the sink and glaring out the window after he gets home from his usual summer morning jog. He can tell by the way your jaw snaps something has got those gears turning over in your head and smoke pouring from your ears. He canât help but love you all the more when youâre like this â ready to cry over spilt milk and sweat the small stuff.
âHey, pretty baby,â Franks hand slides down the side of your face to cup the back of your neck. His pretty, brown eyes are as soft as his voice while he watches you stare off into the distance and refuse to acknowledge him.
âGood morninâ.â He smiles down at the side of your face how he always looks at you, so fondly that sometimes you donât even understand it. And itâs pretty easy for you to understand given that youâre a beautiful, intelligent, sweet angel princess. His big hand around your neck pulls you towards him oh so gently so he can place a kiss on your forehead.
âWhatâs got my girl so worked up all early, huh?â He murmurs against your head after you let out a big, dramatic sigh. âWasâthe matter, baby? Hm?â
God, Frank babies you so good. Heâs all big and strong and manly, but always soft and gentle and sweet for you. If it were any other person, youâd side-eye them with a nasty scowl and send them a passive aggressive comment before storming off. But itâs not; itâs Frankie, and his big paws are framing your face with feathering touches and calling you his baby, his angel, his sweet, bratty, gorgeous, girl, and like every other time, it coaxes the real answer from you.
âTodd was in my dream,â You mumble, staring at his chest. Todd is your most annoying co-worker, which says a lot because all of them are annoying. Pretty much everyone is annoying, really, besides Frank. âHe was getting on my nerves.â
Frank smiles down at you with a hum, pulling you to his chest so you donât see the grin that spreads across his face while he tries not to laugh. He made that mistake once, and youâd hit his chest with a cry of âFrannkkuuhh!â and stomped off. He wonât make the same mistake again, not when he gets the chance to hold you and love on you like this instead.
âPoor girl ainât even gone to work nâ all these people already botherinâ her,â Frank rubs over your biceps, your shoulders, and up and down your back. âSâalright, wasnât nothinâ real, minds just playinâ tricks on you.â
Frank holds you close, rocking back and forth. He looks down at you, at your pouting frown and sad eyes, and immediately clocks that youâve pushed past your bad dream and conjured up something else to be upset about.
âWhat?â He inches his face back so you can stare up at him more comfortably. You glance at his shining, tender brown eyes, before dropping your head back down on his chest with a dejected sigh. âWhat, baby?â
âJâst wish I could stay here with you,â Your admission is quiet, and pressed against his warm, cotton-covered chest. âNâ never deal with all these stupid fucking people ever again.â
âYeah, I know,â He replied, a little upset that he canât solve that issue for you. He may not have to have a job, but thatâs because heâs a wanted fugitive/murderer. You are neither of those things, and unfortunately, have to make a living like a normal person. âAlmost through the week. Just got two more days, right? Doinâ real good.â
Frank will always know what to say to you and how to say it in just the right way to get you back on track. No matter how small your problems may look next to his, he will always try his best to fix it. He loves being the one that gets to solve your issues, help you untangle the mess of your fast changing, high intensity emotions. He loves being the safe place you come home to and get to let everything unravel with when the rest of the world seems to be the root of all your frustration and worries. He loves being the shoulder you cry on, even if youâre crying about how the store didnât have your favorite ice cream or how much of a fucking idiot Todd is. Most of all, Frank just loves you, in all of your spoiled princess glory.
WORD COUNT. 1409
SUMMARY. frank believes that what's his, is yours. and what's yours, is also yours. naturally, he's taken on the role of provider and often finds himself doing exactly that: providing. with you his generosity knows no limits, so he spoils you rotten. giving you whatever it is that he can afford, treating you to things you shouldn't have to spend your money on
WARNINGS. gonna put it in as a disclaimer bc it might not jive with some, but personally??? I fucks with it. he kisses readers feet and holds them after she gets a pedicure. when a man loves you, he loves your feet.. like that's literally frank, come on
NOTE. this might not be entirely realistic, but lets all pretend cost of living doesn't exist like it does and rent & bills aren't 80% of our income. mkay? this has been sitting in my drafts for 2 months omg what I forgot about it. havenât read it since writing so good luck
âââââ
Frank is someone that's perceived incorrectly from first glance, comparison similar to a doberman. They're all big and scary and intimating âand they still areâ but really it's a facade, you just have to treat them right. Much alike Frank.Â
Most expect him to be brute and cold, and those attributes still stand, but really, he's deep and complex. He's thoughtful, and so incredibly generous. Sometimes a little too generous that it's confounding.Â
With you, his generosity knows no bounds.
He's not someone that's particularly flush with cash, nor is he someone that's financially fortunate, but when he gets his weekly paycheque from whatever construction site job he's working on, he'll put a little bit aside. Stashing away a couple twenties each time so by the end of the month, there will be a decent chunk of funds there to spoil you.
It's there for you, there for you to decide what you do with it. Sometimes you get things for the apartment , sometimes you treat yourself to new shoes, sometimes you buy bits for Frank which he may neglect to purchase for himself.Â
It's not a transaction gift, he doesn't require something in return, though there is one small condition: you must always give him a little show of what you've bought.
He may not have a lot, but that doesn't stop him from trying to spoil you at every conceivable moment. You're spoilt rotten, but by no means do you act like it. You don't expect it from him, nor do you ask it of him, he just does it. Not because it was societally bestowed upon him as a man, rather something he liked to do for his girl. For you. It's how he sleeps at night.Â
Now, you're not impaired. Nor are you reliant and dependant on him, you work too â you make your own money. But he thinks that you shouldn't have to spend it on such menial things. He prefers to take care of the finances, carry the burden solo; maybe he's just a little old fashioned that way. So to him, the money you earn, is yours, what he makes, is shared. He believes he's to fund the life you deserve.Â
The way you love and dote on him is enough.
Though you can't have that, nor can you argue him on that. So when you get your payslip at the end of each month, you too take a little bit out â putting aside a moderate little stack into the piggy bank in your closet. The same one you used to save for toys as a kid, only now it's been repurposed; to keep the goal of a future purchase for Frank hidden. A truck you've had your eyes on for some time.
It's your way of trying to reciprocate the generosity he doesn't allow you to return. That, and slipping bills in his wallet and jean pockets.Â
You didn't much like to spend Frank's money, but you'd always seem to find a way to do so. No matter how much you may begrudge the idea or try to get away from taking the small stack of cash from his hand, you'd still return with shopping bags and tired feet.
But with the amount of things you purchase each month âand throughoutâ you sort of run out of things to buy. There are only so many things that can entice you. So earlier today when you were handed the funds to spoil yourself, you decided you wanted to treat yourself from within. You believed yourself to get more long term satisfaction from such a purchase, rather regret and guilt as soon as you step though the front door.Â
And so today, you opted for a massage and a pedicure. The pedicure wasn't so much a method for rejuvenation, instead you just wanted pretty soft feet.Â
Rather than that typical feeling of shoppers remorse, you came home to the apartment feeling refreshed. You turn the key in the door and step inside, closing it behind yourself.
"'lright, honey," Frank calls out to you from the sofa.
"Hi," you reply, voice like a dulcet coo as you elongate the greeting.Â
You join him in the living area, making your way over to him. He's sitting centre on the couch, legs spread wide, controller suspended in the air as his attention drifts from the TV and to you.Â
"Someone's lookin' happy," his lips turn down into a grin, brown puppy eyes fixed on your smile.
You give him a quick nod and settle yourself into the corner of the sofa right beside him. You drop the underside of your knees atop his, legs resting over him as you sit yourself as close as possible without being directly on top of him.Â
"What'd'ya get?" he places the TV remote at his side, his focus still set in an observational-like gaze on you. His eyes narrow at you as he awaits your answer and his head tilts to the side, neck cocked.
"I got a massage. I feel amazingâ you know that knot in my back?"
He knew of that particularly stubborn knot of yours, he's tried to help you rid it for weeks. "I do," he hums, eyes closing as he nods softly, the motion slow and controlled â sort of like he's playfully entertaining you.Â
"Gone," you say plainly, tone enthused. "It melted, it's completely gone. Look what I can do now," you extend your arms above your head, theatrically stretching outward without it resulting in a pained groan. "I feel like a new woman."Â
His head faintly shakes as a smile tugs the corners of his lips, sort of like he was shying away from joy he gains from your presence. "That's great, baby," he murmurs lowly, cadence just short of a coo.
"I know," you play into the entrainment. "Oh and look at these bad boys," you kick off your flip flops and bend your knees, bringing your legs up. You settle the bottoms of your feet onto his thigh, showing off your new nails. "Ain't they pretty?"
He picks up one of your feet and lifts it, kind of like he was keen to inspect it. "The prettiest," he mutters, eyes fixed on your foot clasped within his hand. Frank raises it higher and presses a kiss into the top of it, and another and another â repeating and doing so until a loose, short string of kisses are planted into your skin.Â
Frank places your foot down as carefully as he picked it up, and shifts his attention to your other foot, the one still patiently awaiting the same affection as the one before. He lifts the second, palm snug in the arch of your foot as he lifts it â bringing it to his mouth like he just did a moment before.Â
"Real soft, ain't they," he murmurs into you, lips lingering above the patch of skin at the top of your foot. He repeats from before, searing a cluster of kisses into where he just spoke.Â
You're sort of stuck in a smitten-locked gaze: ears pulled back as a smile pulls the edges of your lips up. He turns to look at you, like he was seeking confirmation that you were listening, and so you give him a slow nod; your smile turning up into a grin in response.Â
"Thank you," you add, voice genuine and honest.Â
"Was only a compliment, baby," he replies humorously, noticing the sincerity â thinking it silly for you to reply to his small comment with something so cordial and heartfelt.Â
"No," you chuckle small, the noise reverberating in your nose as oppose to your chest. "No, I mean for everythingâ today especially. I really appreciate it."
Frank turns inwards slightly and lowers in your direction, twisting and itching closer so as to meet your face. He places a kiss to your lips, again and again, each one short and direct â doing so a couple times until he he pulls away.Â
"I know you do," he replies, voice gruff like it usually is.Â
He resumes his original seated position, only now you turn on your side to face the TV. Your feet remain put across his lap, as do one of his hands atop your foot. A sort of mindless toying with your feet ensues as he flicks through the TV channels, remote in the hand of his other as he searches for something more within your taste.
older bf! frank who always notices the small things about you before you even say them out loud, like the way your shoulders tense after a long day or how your voice gets quieter when youâre tired. he doesnât make a big deal out of it, he just starts quietly adjusting the environment around you without comment. if you ask him about it, he just shrugs and says something like âyou looked like you needed it,â like that explains everything.
older bf! frank who goes quiet in the middle of ordinary moments because something about them feels too fragile to trust, like you sitting on his couch with your shoes off and your hair slightly messy is something the world will eventually take back. he doesnât say it out loud, but you can see it in the way his eyes linger a second too long before he looks away, jaw tightening like heâs physically stopping himself from naming it. when you ask whatâs wrong, he just shakes his head once and says ânothing,â but he sits closer after that anyway.
older bf! frank who is very controlled with his words, but changes completely when itâs just the two of you. at home his voice drops softer, slower, like he finally lets himself exist without armor. heâll sit near you, not necessarily talking much, just staying present, occasionally breaking the silence with something unexpectedly gentle like âyou eat today?â
older bf! frank who gets quietly soft at moments he doesnât fully anticipate, like when you fall asleep near him or reach for him without thinking. heâll pause for a second like he doesnât know what to do with it, then settle into it anyway, staying still so he doesnât disturb you.
older bf! frank who is extremely precise about boundaries, especially yours. if someone pushes you too fast, too close, or keeps talking after youâve gone quiet, he doesnât escalate theatrically - he just appears at your side like he was always there, posture slightly angled between you and them. the conversation dies immediately because he doesnât need to threaten anything; he just looks at them like heâs already decided how this ends if they donât stop.
older bf! frank who is almost irritatingly practical in the middle of emotional moments, but itâs because he refuses to let things spiral. if youâre upset, he doesnât flinch or overreact - heâll ask direct questions like âwhat happenedâ or âwhat do you need right now,â and if you canât answer, he shifts into action mode: water, sitting you down, checking youâre physically steady before anything else.
older bf! frank who rarely raises his voice, but when he goes quiet, itâs worse. not angry shouting - just that controlled stillness where everything in him goes sharp and contained. you learn that the real warning sign isnât volume, itâs the lack of it. if someone crosses a line, he doesnât argue loudly; he just stops talking entirely and the room changes temperature.
older bf! frank who tries not to fall asleep first when youâre together. heâll sit up longer than he needs to, watching you drift off while pretending heâs still awake enough to keep watch, even when his eyes are heavy and his shoulders have finally started to drop. if you catch him doing it and tell him to sleep, heâll give you a quiet, almost tired scoff like itâs not a real suggestion, but heâll eventually lie down anyway - just not before making sure he can feel you close enough to notice if you move.
older bf! frank who doesnât talk about the past unless it slips out by accident, and even then it comes in fragments, never stories. youâll notice it when something small pulls him out of the present - a sound, a smell, a certain kind of silence and for a second heâs not fully with you anymore. then he comes back, slower than before, and you can see the effort it takes to re-anchor himself in the room, in your presence, in the fact that this moment is not that one.
older bf! frank who loves you in a way that feels almost mournful sometimes, like heâs constantly aware of the fact that everything he touches has historically been temporary. itâs not that he doubts you - itâs that he doesnât trust permanence at all. so when he looks at you, thereâs this quiet heaviness behind it, like heâs memorizing details he doesnât want to lose: the way you talk with your hands, the way you breathe when youâre relaxed, the way you say his name without hesitation.
older bf! frank who doesnât say âI love youâ often because it feels too close to admitting vulnerability heâs spent years surviving without. but when he does say it, itâs not casual or light - it lands heavy, deliberate, like something he had to decide to give you rather than something that just happens. and afterward, heâll go a little quieter than usual, like heâs waiting to see if the world reacts badly to hearing it out loud.
older bf! frank who will never admit heâs scared of losing you in the way heâs lost everything else, but it shows in the small things he refuses to let slip - checking youâre home, staying on the phone longer than necessary, showing up even when you didnât ask. heâd call it habit. youâd know itâs not.
frank castle loves babying a girl with an attitude and iâll stand by that
Youâve always beenâŚnot mean, necessarily, just a little snappy. People are fucking stupid and you shouldnât have to deal with that the wonderful, gorgeous, princess you are.
Itâs one of the things Frank loves about you, the permanent pout on your lips. He loves being the one that deals with your attitude and smooths the crease between your eyebrows. He loves being the one you go to to hear yes because you donât know how to be told no.
Frank can always tell when youâre in a bit of an extra mood. Like this morning when he finds you eating a bagel over the sink and glaring out the window after he gets home from his usual summer morning jog. He can tell by the way your jaw snaps something has got those gears turning over in your head and smoke pouring from your ears. He canât help but love you all the more when youâre like this â ready to cry over spilt milk and sweat the small stuff.
âHey, pretty baby,â Franks hand slides down the side of your face to cup the back of your neck. His pretty, brown eyes are as soft as his voice while he watches you stare off into the distance and refuse to acknowledge him.
âGood morninâ.â He smiles down at the side of your face how he always looks at you, so fondly that sometimes you donât even understand it. And itâs pretty easy for you to understand given that youâre a beautiful, intelligent, sweet angel princess. His big hand around your neck pulls you towards him oh so gently so he can place a kiss on your forehead.
âWhatâs got my girl so worked up all early, huh?â He murmurs against your head after you let out a big, dramatic sigh. âWasâthe matter, baby? Hm?â
God, Frank babies you so good. Heâs all big and strong and manly, but always soft and gentle and sweet for you. If it were any other person, youâd side-eye them with a nasty scowl and send them a passive aggressive comment before storming off. But itâs not; itâs Frankie, and his big paws are framing your face with feathering touches and calling you his baby, his angel, his sweet, bratty, gorgeous, girl, and like every other time, it coaxes the real answer from you.
âTodd was in my dream,â You mumble, staring at his chest. Todd is your most annoying co-worker, which says a lot because all of them are annoying. Pretty much everyone is annoying, really, besides Frank. âHe was getting on my nerves.â
Frank smiles down at you with a hum, pulling you to his chest so you donât see the grin that spreads across his face while he tries not to laugh. He made that mistake once, and youâd hit his chest with a cry of âFrannkkuuhh!â and stomped off. He wonât make the same mistake again, not when he gets the chance to hold you and love on you like this instead.
âPoor girl ainât even gone to work nâ all these people already botherinâ her,â Frank rubs over your biceps, your shoulders, and up and down your back. âSâalright, wasnât nothinâ real, minds just playinâ tricks on you.â
Frank holds you close, rocking back and forth. He looks down at you, at your pouting frown and sad eyes, and immediately clocks that youâve pushed past your bad dream and conjured up something else to be upset about.
âWhat?â He inches his face back so you can stare up at him more comfortably. You glance at his shining, tender brown eyes, before dropping your head back down on his chest with a dejected sigh. âWhat, baby?â
âJâst wish I could stay here with you,â Your admission is quiet, and pressed against his warm, cotton-covered chest. âNâ never deal with all these stupid fucking people ever again.â
âYeah, I know,â He replied, a little upset that he canât solve that issue for you. He may not have to have a job, but thatâs because heâs a wanted fugitive/murderer. You are neither of those things, and unfortunately, have to make a living like a normal person. âAlmost through the week. Just got two more days, right? Doinâ real good.â
Frank will always know what to say to you and how to say it in just the right way to get you back on track. No matter how small your problems may look next to his, he will always try his best to fix it. He loves being the one that gets to solve your issues, help you untangle the mess of your fast changing, high intensity emotions. He loves being the safe place you come home to and get to let everything unravel with when the rest of the world seems to be the root of all your frustration and worries. He loves being the shoulder you cry on, even if youâre crying about how the store didnât have your favorite ice cream or how much of a fucking idiot Todd is. Most of all, Frank just loves you, in all of your spoiled princess glory.
a/n: hey guys guess who's back with a matt one shot! i started this a loooong time ago so i decided to finally finish it!! not much to add other than hi guys i've missed you so much and am excited to be back in my writing weird and quirky readers era. so. enjoy!! maybe if anyone's interested in reading a part two, i can write one.
warnings: 18+, Smut, lots of flirting and pining, reader being emotionally unavailable and way too insecure, matt being flirty and dom, lots of pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, one kid), no one's ever made the reader cum, reader is super effing poor, has two jobs, hates her job, age gap, lowkey just strangers hooking up. lots of teasing, lots of banter, reader says 'hooker' a lot, matt makes you an offer you can't refuse, probably some other stuff i'm forgetting but isn't that kind of our deal by now?
wordcount: 4.6k
summary: A handsome stranger makes an otherwise dull and annoying night worth your while.
pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader
now playing: bed chem - sabrina carpenter
"come right on me, i mean camaraderie/said you're not in my time zone, but you wanna be/where art thou? why not uponeth me?/see it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy."
You meet Matthew at a party.
Your story starts like so many do.
Music is playing, people are chattering all around you. More than that, you feel out of place. You clutch your champagne glass immaturely, unsure how youâre supposed to hold it.
How did you get dragged here, anyways?
Wasnât there some shitty early 2000âs apocalypse movie and an edible that you needed to attend to? Didnât you long to order shitty bar food and use your vibrator for hours? Wasnât there something, anything more important than your attendance to this party?
Itâs too fancy for you, anyways.
Yeah, sure, your degree sits framed on your wall, but your soul tells you that youâre no academic, that if you wanted to go to a party, you deserve to be at a house party in your shitty neighborhood, the village that raised you, where your mother, the girl who gave you your first hit of a joint, and the teacher that taught you to read still lived, reliving the same high school gossip youâve known for ten years. Youâd be wearing ripped jeans and a too revealing top that your friend talked you into.
Instead, youâre trying to recall facts from your undergrad education that you havenât thought about, trying to figure out how to impress these people.
Didnât Ernaux write about the transition from being poor to being an academic? Didnât she write aboutâ
âYou sure like this bar.â
The voice you hear makes you turn your headâYouâre faced with a handsome man, red glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. There are whisps of grey in his scruff. He holds a glass of.. Something.. maybe resembling whiskey? Youâre not sure.
âIâm sorry?â
And you are. Men donât really talk to you, and in your brain, maybe this blind manâyou assume heâs blind based off his glasses and his cane but you donât dare say this assumption out loud, maybe this blind man is playing some sort of trick on you.
âYou like this bar. Youâve been standing here for a half hour.â
You struggle to find anything clever to say.
So, maybe because itâs all you can think, or maybe because you think itâll get the handsome stranger to leave you alone, you respond,
âIâm just trying to figure out if everyone at this party can tell I grew up poor or if itâs all in my head.â
And though youâre one hundred percent serious, handsome stranger laughs.
Something sparks. Deep in the confines of your soul where youâve locked away any routes to passion or excitement, having thrown away the key when you got your mind numbing poorly paid office job.
âIâm Matt.â He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you give him your name. At least you shake his hand properly. âSo, if you feel so out of place, why are you here?â
âMy boss told me I had to.â You respond, your voice carrying a bored edge as you mention him. âTold me I needed to come to make the company look good, because everyone brings secretaries to this thing to show their appreciation. Like itâs a privilege to have these men talk down to me, to have them coo and aw at my lack of money or maybe my lack of intelligence and have them go,â You lean over to this man who told you his name two minutes ago, and put your hand on his thighââDonât worry honey, Iâll happily sit here and explain basic government systems you learned in eighth grade while you worry about paying your rent because you had to buy a dress for this stupid party and you only make enough money to choose between the dress and your rent,â You explain, your thumb rubbing his thigh for a little extra emphasis on your point.
Matt blushes.
That spark grows.
âSounds like a nightmare.â He hums.
You withdraw your hand to take a sip of your drink.
âJust exhausting.â You sigh, neglecting to mention that youâre further unable to pay your rent because you had to take off your second job to be here. The job youâve had since high school. The job you swore to quit one day. âAnyways. Iâve probably annoyed you, Sorry.â
âNo, no, I appreciate the honesty. I grew up poor too,â He answers, âAnd now I feel like part of the problem.â He shrugs.
You look to him. In his finely pressed suit, his expensive scent.
âProve it.â
His face twists into something of amused confusion.
âProve it?â
âYeah. Tell me something only someone who grew up poor would understand.â You request, daring him. He knows this is serious to you, that if heâs lying to you, whatever he hopes to get out of this is not going to happen. So, he sips his drink and goes to the dark corner of his mind to when his dad was alive.
âWell, besides the fact that I grew up in an orphanage,â He starts, and you feel like an asshole, âWhen my dad was alive, I used to have to do my homework in the laundry mat, moving over our clothes, while he was at work. Then Iâd wheel the load home in this laundry basket on wheels.â He told you. You smile, comfortedâYou can see through the graying hair and fine pressed suit. At his core, he is just like you.
At that shitty house party you donât go to, heâs smoking a cigarette in a tee shirt and cargo shorts, and youâre just as attracted to him there.
âAlright, I trust you.â You promise. You take another sip of your champagne, looking around the room. The party is starting to dwindle down and bosses are taking their secretaries to dark corners. Your back hurts.
âGood.â He takes a sip of his drink and stands up, leaving the now empty glass on the bar counter. âHow much?â
âHow much what?â
Matt grins and holds a room key card to one of the many rooms in the hotel above this stupid fucking party.
âHow much do you trust me, sweetheart?â
-
His room is on the 8th floor, and itâs.. bigger than any hotel room youâve ever stayed in. Itâs clean, the lights are warm, and youâre pretty sure you could sink right through the bed. You step into the room and find yourself taking off your heels, with no real idea if you were allowed to stay the night.
âNice place,â You admire, and you predict his words before he says it,
âThanks. Smells pretty fancy, I guess.â He shrugs. He listens to as you jump onto the bed, stretching out. Matt slips out of his shoes, and he lays next to you, groaning a bit as he lays down.
âCan I ask you something?â You wonder, just admiring his face. Your hand comes up to touch his cheek.
âAnything.â He hums, turning his head to kiss your palm.
âHow old are you?â You wonder.
âForty-two.â He responds, and he goes to say something else, but you lean in to kiss him. But just before he can gratify you, before you can learn the taste of his lips, his hand, quick as lightning, comes up and grabs your jaw, holding you in place, âReally, sweetheart? The fact that Iâm forty-two turns you on?â he asks.
You canât help but defend yourselfâ
âWell, just kissing you doesnât necessarily mean that Iâm turned on or anythingââ
âSo if I snuck my hand up this pretty dress of yours, youâd be what? Not soaking wet?â
You just look at him for a long time.
âOkay, what do I have to do to get you to kiss me, instead of just talking to you?â
âWhy? I like the sound of your voice,â He smirks, and you roll your eyes. You feel defensive, like heâs making fun of you. Like he knows how badly you want him, and heâs withholding it from you on purpose, just to see you squirm. As your mind starts to spiral, you pull away from him, the lustful heat in your cheeks being replaced by hot, bubbling rage.
âYou know what, I donât need this shitââ You move to get off the bed, trying to find your heels when Matt grabs your wristâwith gentleness heâd use to care for a skittish animalâand pulls you back towards the bed, trying not to laugh when you stumble over your feet, now standing between his legs.
âStop.â His voice is gentle, but firm. He hears the way you inhale, the way you try to mask your anger. It turns him on. âYou really want to kiss me?â
You hesitate to respondâyou want to kiss him so fucking badly. You canât remember the last time you wanted anything other than wanting to pay your rent or wanting a new chair at work.
âYeah.â You finally breathe. âI want to kiss you so badly.â
âYeah?â He smiles. âWell, if I ask you a question, are you gonna try to leave again?â
You clench your teeth.
âYou just asked me a question and Iâm still standing here, arenât I?â You see him smile.
âOkay, when was the last time you kissed someone?â
â..A while ago.â
âHow long ago since someoneâs made you cum?â
Your silence is deafeningâitâs revealing. Matt starts to chuckle.
âOh, fuck thisââ You turn to leave but Matt pulls you in, and then his hand is on the back of your thigh, pulling you close.
âCâmon, sit on my lap,â He starts, and hesitantly, and admittedly clumsily, you sit on his lap, your legs resting on either side of him, while his hands hold your sides, as if they were made for him to hold. âSo, no oneâs ever made you cum before?â
âNo one except my vibrator.â You say, and Matt just shakes his head.
âIâm a lawyer.â He starts, and you groan, your head tilts back,
âJesus Fuckingââ
Mattâs hand squeezes your side.
âDonât use the lordâs name in vain, sweetheartââ
âIs this some sort of joke? Am I beingââ
Matt comes forward to kiss you, his lips silencing your thoughts. He tastes like whiskey and vanilla, and it eggs you on. You deepen the kiss, any anger or frustration slowly melting. And when he pulls away, his teeth catch your bottom lip and he tugs just enough to drive you crazy.
âAre you going to listen now, sweetheart?â he asks, and all you can do is stare at his pretty pink lips.
âSure.â
âGood.â He clears his throat. âIâm a lawyer,â he says, âSo part of my job is to help deliver justice. And it is..â He laughs a little like his plans to fucking ruin you are funny, âa fucking injustice that no one has ever made you cum. That all you know is some battery-operated thing instead of my fingers or my cock,â He sighs, âSo how âbout we deliver some well-deserved justice, sweetheart? Howâs that sound?â
It sounds like you could die. What is happening? Werenât you just complaining about how badly you wanted to get away from this whole scene? Why do you want him so bad?
â..Sounds like you have all the power in this situation.â
Matt grins like he knows it.
âDoes sound like that, huh? Here, Iâll tell you a secret,â He leans in, his lips grazing your ear, âYou have the power here. You say the word, and Iâll stop. Iâll stop, and you can stay here for the night, or you can leave, Iâll pay for your cab, or..â His hands begin to gently rub up and down your sides.
You smile. Heâs trying to make you feel better, and itâs working.
âOr..?â You prompt.
âOr.. I could teach you how good it feels to cum from something with a pulse. And not something.. battery operated,â and the way he says it, you know heâs repulsed by the idea that your vibrator is the best thing thatâs ever happened to you.
And it makes you smile wider.
âMy vibrator is very good to me, Iâll have you know.â
âOh,â He chuckles, âNot nearly as good as Iâll be to you.â He promises.
Itâs a big promise.
You just look at him for a long minute, trying to decide. As if thereâs even a choice to make. Youâd let him break your heart if he asked nicely.
âCan I take off your glasses?â You ask softly, and Matthew nods, and you find yourself taking them off and just holding them for a moment. You stare for a long time, to the point where you start to nibble on the ends of his glasses, and he smiles. He likes how authentic you are. How unable to hide yourself from him you are.
âSo, what do you say?â
âHm..â He suspects youâre fucking with him. âWell, Iâd have toââ
âYes or no?â
âI thought I had all the power here.â
âYou do. But Iâm running out of patience here, and,â He brings your hand down to his pants so you can feel his bulge, âI am way too hard to wait for much longer.â He confesses. He thinks he might die if he canât feel you clench around him, so he quietly, desperately hopes youâll say yes.
âOkay,â You smile, âAlright, letâs do it.â
âNot very enthusiasticââ You inhale, and he knows youâre close to leaving, so he tries to entice you, âCâmon, just.. humor me, sweetheart. Iâll make it worth your while, I promise.â
âMaking a whole lot of promises, Mr..?â
âMurdock.â
âMatthew Murdock,â You hum, âOkay, Mr. Murdock. I want you to fuck me, just like youâve promised. Make me forget all about my vibrator.â
And before the words finish leaving your mouth, his mouth is against yours, swallowing any insecurity you had earlier. His fingers begin to slowly move up and down your sides, and you already know that whatever is about to happen will ruin your vibrator for you forever.
You could see yourself becoming addicted to this feeling, to him, to the feeling of being wanted.. You could feel yourself already slipping down that rabbit hole.
As you kiss him, he lets out this soft moan into the kiss, and in response, your hands come up to play with his hair. You start to roll your hips a bit, as if you want to tease him. Mattâs hands squeeze your sides, and he pulls away from the kiss just for a second.
âSafe word?â He wonders, and you scoff.
âNo oneâs ever made me cum, you think I have aâWoah!â You cut yourself off, because Matt suddenly flips you over so youâre beneath him against these too expensive sheets.
âSo, if things go too far, youâre uh.. youâre gonna say Lava, okay?â He wonders out loud.
âYeah, Okay,â You nod, âLava, got it,â and then heâs kissing you again, and his hands are slipping off his jacket, and then he starts to loosen his tie as he kisses you, but then he gives up on that to put his hands on your thighs and then beginning to travel up. You shiver as his hands travel up your dress,
âPretty fucking dress..â He mumbles, between kissing you silly, âPretty girl, too..â He mumbles, âGonna need to rip this dress off youââ
You fully pull away from the kiss to say,
âRip this fucking dress and Iâll leave so fast,â And Matt knows youâre not joking, but he smiles and says,
âHow about I buy you a new one?â He asks, âOr two or threeââ
âOh, my god, just leave the dress intact,â You request, and Mattâs smirk begins to grow.
âThen how about I just fuck you in the dress, huh?â he wonders, âHow would you like that, sweetheart?â You nod, letting out a soft âmhmâ, but Matt shakes his head, âNo, no, I gotta hear you say it, baby. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you in this dress. Maybe I will.â
You stare at him for a long moment, wondering where your dignity went.
âMatthew,â You start, âIf you donât fuck me in this dress, I think Iâm gonna go crazy. I canât.. I canât remember the last time I wanted anything this badly,â You confess, and the words start tumbling out before you can stop them, âI canât remember the last time anyone made me feel pretty like you have, and I canât ever use my vibrator again because I already know how much better youâre going to be, and holy fuck¸ yes, it turns me on that youâre forty two andââ
Matt kisses you again, this time only for a short time, because he pulls away after a moment to tell youâ
âI think we should work on your dirty talk, but, good. Was it so hard to just do what I asked?â
â..no.â
âYeah, I thought so.â He says softly, and then his lips are against yours again, while his hands explore, and when his fingers brush over your panties, you moan against his lips, barely registering it as he slips your panties off and stuffs them in his back pocket, because his fingers are caressing your folds, slipping inside you as you moan and writhe beneath him.
âHoly fuck,â You whine, âMattââ
âSh, sh, sh..â His lips press a kiss to your forehead, âDonât worry, Iâm gonna make sure the first time someone else makes you cum is on my cock.â He tells you, and he chuckles when he feels your folds flutter around him at that. âIâm gonna fuck you in this dress now, okay?â He wonders, and you nod,
âYes, please.â
âAw, pretty girl does have manners under all that brattiness, huh?â He smirks, and before you can retaliate, he kisses you.
When he slowly eases your cock into you, you moan against his lips, and you try to really just feel it. You try to really remember how full you feel, the feeling of Mattâs breathless pants against your lips and skin, the feeling of being wanted by him.. and you know you canât quit him.
His thrusts begin slowly, and that becomes a feeling you want to remember too. He thrusts into you while burying his face in the crook of your neck.
âWait, hold on, Matt,â but when his thrusts donât stop, you say, âOkay, Lava,â You offer, and Mattâs thrusts stop, and he very hesitantly pulls his head out of the crook of your neck,
âWhatâs wrong, sweetheart?â
âI just..â Your hands come up to rest on either side of his head, and you just stare at him for a moment, âI just want to memorize your pretty face so I can live in this moment forever.â
Matthew blushes.
You know youâve won.
Youâre not sure what youâve won, but you definitely feel like youâve won whatever it is.
Matt presses his forehead against yours and while you stare into his pretty brown eyes, he whispers,
âYouâre gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.â Then, after a moment, he asks, âCan I keep going now?â
âYes, please.â Matt smiles and kisses you again as he begins to thrust into you, and you realize how dirty this entire situation isâan older man, still mostly dressed, fucking you in your expensive (rent stealing) dress just after meeting him, and it makes you want him more. Your hands move to play with his hair as his thrusts increase, one hand gripping the bottom of your chin and the top of your neck, the other sneaking up your thigh to rub circles in your clit.
Youâve never felt closer to God.
This is so much better than your vibrator.
Matt can feel you clench around him, and it makes him chuckle, so, in the most condescending tone he can muster when you are being so good for him, he asks,
âWanna cum, sweetheart?â He wonders, and when you just whine in response, he continues, âCâmon, use your manners, I know you know how to respond properly,â He reminds, and if you didnât want him to cum inside you so badly, youâd tell him off.. maybe.
âPlease,â You manage out, âYes, I wanna cum,â and Matt begins to kiss your cheeks, your jaw, and your neck, and only after leaving quite the bite mark on your collarbone, does Matthew say,
âAlright, pretty girl, let me feel you cum on my cock,â He says, and you do, and the way you clench around him makes him moan against your skin, his speed increasing, âFuck.. Fuck, kid, I gotta..â He sighs.
âInside,â You beg quietly, âIâm on birth control andââ
âAre you.. sure?â He asks, but his voice is shaky from how badly he wants the answer to be yes.
âYes, please, pleaseââ And before the third please can leave your mouth, he lets out the prettiest moan against your lips, cumming deep within you, filling you in ways you never thought possible. His hips roll a few more times, just to help you through your high (and just a little bit because he canât think of anything clever to say that isnât âWill you be mine forever so I can keep fucking you like this?â) but after a few moments, he whispers,
âSo.. what did you think?â
You feel amazing. You could die happy. You can barely think, so you respond,
âI think Iâm gonna throw out my vibrator.â And it makes him laugh, and you think heâs even prettier when he laughs than when he cums, so you kiss him. And in between kisses, you say, âWe made a fucking mess,â
And he finally pulls away with a sigh.
âWell..â A smile tugs at his lips, âWanna.. check out the shower, sweetheart?â He wonders.
âDo I have much of a choice, Mr. Murdock?â You smile.
âNope,â And before you can say much else, Matt is grabbing you and swinging him over his shoulder to carry you to the most expensive bathroom youâve ever stepped foot in.
-
In the morning, you wake up to the smell of coffee, and the sound of the shower running again. You slowly blink away your sleep, rubbing your eyes. You have a bit of headache, the consequence of a long night of drinking.. and bad decisions.
You blink, and anxiety begins to well in your chest. Your heart beats out of your chest quickly, and you kind of feel like you canât breathe. What did you do last night? Well you know what you did, you werenât that drunk, but if Matt was at that party last night he mustâve been important orâ
Your eyes drift over to the side table, and you see a delicious smelling coffee next to an envelope, an envelope that is sloppily marked with your initial, the sign of a blind man attempting to write. You find your bra and then find yourself unable to find your underwearâwhatever, youâll deal with it later, you decide, so you begin looking in drawers and find a pair of Matthewâs boxers. You pull them on, and then take a long sip of the coffee thatâs been ordered for you.
Then, you pick up the envelope, and halfway through the sip you stop. Itâs an envelope full of cash, it would cover your rent and then some..
So naturally, you put down your coffee and then begin to bang on the bathroom door, hitting it over and over again,
âMatthew! Hey, we need to talk!â You demand, and you hear some shuffling as the shower turns off, and the door opens, and you see Matthew with his hair, and scruff, damp, and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
And you have to admit, in the middle of your anger, he is so hot.
âGood morning, sweetheart,â He smiles, handsome devil. âEverythingââ
âWhat the fuck is this?â You ask, smacking the envelope against his chest, âIâm not a fucking hooker,â and your voice matches how badly you want to smack him.
âI know,â he starts,
âWell, only hookers get left an envelope of cash after they fuck some stranger,â You snap, âAnd Iâm not a fucking hooker.â
âAre you wearing my boxers?â You see him smile.
âDo you think Iâm a fucking hooker?â
âBoy, you sure like saying fuck and hooker.â
âIâm being serious,â You remind, âIâm not a hooker. I donât need your money.â
Matt, although he wonât tell you this, doesnât need his super senses to know that last part is a lie.
âCan I talk without you accusing me of thinking youâre a hooker? Because I donât think youâre a hooker, I know youâre a very distinguished young woman, andââ
âAlright, Iâm not president, Iâm a secretary, relax,â You scoff, and start to move around the hotel room, trying to find your shoes, dress, accessories.
Quietly, it turns him on that youâre so difficult.
âCan you justââ he sighs, finding his own boxers and pants, and then starting to put his button up back on, but it hangs on him without being buttoned up as he sits down. âCan you please sit, so we can talk about this?â He wonders.
Youâre still holding the envelope.
âFine.â You grumble, walking over to the bed and sitting next to him. Heâs really hot, so you just admire him, and wait for him to talk.
âI know youâre not a hooker.â He starts, âBut I am a lawyer, like I told you last night. And.. I make more than enough money for me,â and You want to tell him he doesnât need to brag about it, âAnd.. Iâm not really looking for a serious relationship right now, but.. I really like you.â
Your face flushes.
âYou do?â
He smiles gently.
âI really do. So, hereâs the deal, sweetheartâAnd you canât get mad at me just for offering, okay?â
âOkay.â You concede.
âLetâs keep seeing each other.â He starts, âNothing committal, weâll just hangout, sleep together, Iâll get to hear your pretty noises.. and Iâll pay your rent, and.. and buy you things.â He shrugs.
You blink.
âYou want to be my sugar daddy?â
Now itâs Mattâs turn to blush.
âThat makes it sound so.. dirty,â he starts, âWhich it is.. But you never.. have to do anything, I just.. want to hangout with you. Fucking you will just.. be a nice benefit. A really.. really nice benefit.â He breathes. âSo, what do you say, sweetheart?â
You consider it for a long moment, thinking. Youâd be able to quit your shitty second job, the one youâve had since high school, the one you swore you were going to quit. And last night was amazing. You really do want to throw out your vibrator, but maybe you could convince him to show you some of his favorite toys.
Heâd tell you that you are his favorite toy, and then youâd have to fuck him like it was the last thing youâd ever do.
âIâd like that.â You smile, âBut on one condition.â You say, and he nods.
âAnything.â He smiles.
âYou canât fall in love with me.â You say, âAnd I canât fall in love with you either. We can be friends, and we can fuck, but no being âin loveâ with your sugar baby.â You request, and he nods.
âDeal.â He holds out his hand to you, âShake on it?â
Your fingers wrap around his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.
âDeal.â You echo. âWe wonât fall in love with each other.â
matt is such a fucking manipulator itâs insane. always brushing off your concerns, acting like youâre stupid and oblivious. he gives you so many bullshit excuses, but his lies sound so sweet
iâm sorry iâm late, sweetie, i got tied up at work. you know how these clients can be.
i just bumped into something, donât worry about it. come kiss me, i had a long day.
scars? what scars? shhh, just keep riding my thigh, just like that.
what? sorry, i wasnât listening. i was too busy thinking about how good your mouth feels
it must be your lipstick. you know thereâs no one who could make me feel as good as you do
i know youâre tired but think about how i feel. all these late nights at the office⌠i could really blow off some steam
shh, baby, donât cry. iâm sorry, daddyâs sorry, okay? let me make it up to you. you like my fingers, donât you?
youâre always such a good girl for me. you never whine, never complain. i donât deserve you
the very injured caterpillar ⚠࣪ ËđđŚš × đđ â ŰŞ
pairing: matt murdock x kindergarten teacher!reader
summary: âdonât worry, the kids have zero survival instincts. youâll blend right in.â or: in an attempt to get your injured boyfriend to take it slow, you bring him in as the mystery reader for today's story time. (2.6k words of pure fluff + matt murdock with kids)
a/n: i don't know what got into me okay. am i ignoring kinktober for this? yes i am! (â¸â¸> á´â˘â¸â¸)
The morning light spills lazily across the bedroom, warm against the sheets where a very much not-resting Matt Murdock is trying to get up. One handâs pressed to the bandage at his ribs; the other braces against the mattress, trembling with effort.Â
âMatt,â you remind him. âYou promised, okay?â
âYes, maâam.â He bares a grin. âWhat? I didnât promise not to move.â
âI know that look.â
His lips press together. You catch the faint, guilty smirk that means heâs pushing you to your limits before you snap.Â
âSweetheart,â he murmurs, coaxing, âIâm fine. Iâll be fine.â
âSit. Down.âÂ
Who knew the Teacher Voice would be effective even on vigilantes? The command hits him like muscle memory; he freezes and sits back down before his brain catches up. You fold your arms, shooting him a glare. âYouâre not fine, Matt. Youâre barely upright.â
He tries to shrug and immediately winces. âIâve been through worse.â
âTry anything funny,â you say dryly, âand Iâll put you in time-out.â You suck in a breath. âSay it with me: âI am not going out.ââ
âI am not going out.â
ââI am not going to decide I am well enough for a âlittle walkâ when my girlfriend goes to work and then end up in an alley with a mugger and a new concussion.ââ
â...Itâs a little early for muggings, isnât it?â
âSay it.â
Matt smiles impishly into the distance, seemingly not having heard you. You donât know why he wonât just lie to youâhell, thatâs what youâd do in his placeâbut all the better for it, you suppose. He turns his head toward your voice, those unfocused brown eyes catching the light just right, turning them to gold. âYou really think you can keep me down all day?â
Okay. You want to stay angry, but that smile cracks through your irritation like sunlight through fog. You still remember the shaking in your hands when you stitched him up at two a.m., the heartbeat under your palms too shallow, like a spiderâs fragile skittering.
âYou know what,â you say. âFine. Get dressed.â
His brow furrows. âYeah?â
âYeah. Youâre coming with me.âÂ
Matt blinks incredulously, like heâs sure heâs misheard. âWith you?â
âYeah,â you say, slinging your tote bag over your shoulder. You jangle your keys. âCâmon. Get dressed, Mister, if thatâs what you want so badly. You haveââyou glance at the clockââfifteen minutes before I leave without you.â
âYouâre seriously taking me to school?â
âYou bet.â You flash him your brightest smile. âDonât worry, the kids have zero survival instincts. Youâll blend right in.â
You should clean up more. You know. Your classroom looks like something exploded in itâa mishmash of alphabet borders, crooked paper-chain rainbows, glitter perpetually embedded in the carpet. Youâre both glad and saddened Matt canât see just how much of a mess it is.
For the first hour, you stash Matt in the breakroom. This is partly to keep him from wandering, and partly to shield him from twenty high-decibel five-to-six-year-olds until caffeine has done its job. But it takes about three minutes for the other teachers to notice the mysterious man in the corner with the bandaged hands and movie-star jawline. They descend like curious pigeons, and within moments, heâs surrounded.
âSo, youâre the lawyer?â asks Mrs. Kowalski, whose retirement countdown has been in progress since the Clinton administration.
âI am,â Matt answers smoothly.
âDo you work for one of those fancy firms?â another teacher asks. Heâs leaning on the counter towards Matt like heâs in a rom-com coffee shop.
âSomething like that,â Matt says, trying not to sound too much like heâs calculating the distance to the door by sound alone.
And then (inevitably) Mrs. Novak, who once told you she âcouldnât be trusted to be left in a room alone with Ryan Gosling,â leans forward and says, âYouâre not married, are you, handsome?â
The pause that follows could power the city grid. Mattâs head tips just slightly in your direction, as if to check whether this is some kind of prank. His mouth opens, closes, and then ever the gentleman, he clears his throat. âUh⌠no, maâam.â
Mrs. Novak beams like sheâs just won the lottery.
You sip your coffee and very generously decide that this is absolutely none of your business.
You come to collect him an hour later, and when you step into your classroom together, twenty pairs of eyes snap toward the door.Â
âFriends,â you announce, your voice slipping into that vibrant brightness, âI brought someone new with me today. This is my friend, Mister Matt!â
A hush falls, followed immediately by chaos.
âHeâs wearing a suit!â
âIs he famous?â
âWhy you got sunglasses? Itâs not even sunny!â
âHe looks like heâs from the government.â
Mattâs mouth twitches. He raises a hand in a small wave. âHi, everyone.â
You set a chair beside you, trying not to laugh as he navigates the forest of sneakers and rolling crayons. His cane rolls lightly against the carpet, a rhythmic sound that hushes them faster than your voice ever could.
âSo,â you say, sitting on the rug, âtodayâs circle time is going to be a little special. Mister Matt is blind, which means he canât see with his eyesââyou tap yours for emphasisââthe way we do. Heâs going to tell us a little about what thatâs like, and how he does things a little differently.â
Several hands shoot up at once.
âYou canât see anything? Like, nothing nothing?â
âDo you got a robot dog?â
âDo you watch Bluey?â
Matt takes it in stride, amused. âNo, no robot dogâyet. And I canât watch Bluey, but I can listen. I use my ears, my nose, my hands⌠and sometimes I just remember how things feel. Like how you know where your bed is when the lights are off.â
A collective âohhhâ sweeps through the group.
He lifts his cane lightly. âAnd this helps me find things in front of me so I donât trip.â
âLike a hockey stick!â
He smiles. âSomething like that.â
âDo you bump into stuff?â another asks.
âOnly when the furniture sneaks up on me.â
Giggles ripple across the rug.
âHow dâyou eat spaghetti?â
âVery very carefully,â he says solemnly, which earns another round of laughter.
Then, a small voice asks, âBut how can you read to us?â
You jump in, delighted. âBecause, my friends, some books have braille. Thatâs a special kind of writing you can feel with your fingers.â
A chorus of little oooohs rises. You take the book from your bagâThe Very Hungry Caterpillar. You had glued Braille labels on its pages one evening, just to test out Mattâs new label printer. You hold it up for effect.Â
âSee, you know how we use our eyes to look at lettersâA, B, C? Well, braille has letters too! Theyâre made of tiny bumps you can touch instead of see. So people who canât see with their eyes can still read stories and signs and labels and everything else.â
Matt tilts his head toward you, smiling fondly. He takes the book. âReady to see if I can keep up with your reading level?â
âThink you can handle it?â you tease.
He runs his fingers over the thick paper, smirking. âIâve handled hungrier clients.â
The kids gather close, cross-legged and fidgeting with excitement. Matt clears his throat, and when he starts to read, his voice seems to fill every corner of the room. Low and even, itâs rich with rhythm that makes every syllable and pause sound deliberate. Perfectly timed.
âIn the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leafâŚâ
Youâve heard him speak in his courtroom voice. Youâve heard him speak in the quiet drawl of late-night confessions. This is something else entirely. It almost sounds like poetry, his words slow and warm, like honey. The class falls silent, spellbound. Even the usually restless ones sit still with their eyes wide, breathing in sync with the story.
When he reaches the part where the caterpillar eats through the fruit, the kids finally join in, shouting out the fruits in chorus.
âOne apple! Two pears! Three plums!â
Matt laughs softly, his shoulders shaking. It is real laughter, not the weary kind youâve heard too often. It fills the little room like sunlight.
He reads on steadily, the lilt of his voice weaving through the childrenâs bright interruptions. (âHe sounds like a nice Batman.â âYeahhhh!â)
And when he closes the book at last, thereâs a heartbeat of silence before the room erupts into cheers. Tiny hands clap wildly, mesmerized by the âmagic trickâ of Matt being able to read without seeing. Someone shouts, âAgain!â and Matt chuckles under his breath, the faintest flush creeping up his neck.
Thankfully, snack time arrives before they can demand an encore. You set him up on a miniature plastic chair near the reading rugâostensibly to ârest,â though you suspect thatâs a lost cause.Â
The moment you turn your back, the kids descend on him. They surround him like puppies, tugging at his sleeves, pressing crayon drawings into his hands, proudly narrating every squiggle. He listens to each one with his head tilted just so, offering gentle Oh, really?âs and Thatâs beautifulâs as he traces the surfaces of their paper with his fingers.
They also seem to enjoy dressing Matt up, for the sole reason that he âcanât seeâ (you suspect this is a premise to the natural conclusion of âtherefore he canât stop us.â) A tiny girl with pigtails climbs onto a chair and pins an apple hairclip on his head, her tongue sticking out in concentration. The room dissolves into giggling.
Matt adjusts it carefully. âDoes it suit me?â
âYeahhhh!â they shout, chortling so hard one nearly falls over.
You manage to herd them toward their snacks, but within seconds, Matt is surrounded again. Besieged by a crowd of tiny, sticky hands and juice boxes.
âMister Matt, I canât open mine!â
âMe too!â
âDo mines! Do mines!â
The chair Matt is sitting on seems seconds from collapse under his large body. His long legs are folded awkwardly; his elbows tucked in tight. His bandaged hands work slowly but surely, sliding straws into foil holes found by sound and touch. Each successful âpop!â earns an impressed âwhoaaaâ from his audience.
You stand by the wall, biting your lip to keep from laughing outright.
Matt Murdock is a lawyer by day, vigilante by night, and now juice box technician by popular demand.
When playtime rolls around, you guide him outside to the bench beneath the brittle autumn sun. The air smells of mulch and crayons, and the playground is alive with motion: squeaking swings, sneakers pounding the pavement, shrieks of joy no jury on earth could silence.
Matt sits with his cane across his lap, head tilted up and listening to it all with a faint, meditative smile.
You join him after a round of pushing swings, handing him a coffee. His face softens instantly at the sound of your steps.
âSo this is what you do every day.â
âThis,â you sigh, gesturing toward the whole ruckus, âand reading the same book forty times a week.â
Matt chuckles. âThis is incredible. I mean it.â He tilts his face toward you, the wind lifting a stray curl from his forehead. âItâs⌠peaceful here,â he says quietly. âI can hear their hearts, you know. All of them. Theyâre so... Light. Untangled. Itâs nice.â
You donât know how to answer that, so you just let your fingers drift until they find his, his hand curling over yours.
Then a little boy toddles up, wide-eyed, clutching something tight in his fist. His sneakers are squeaking with every step.
âHi, Mister Matt,â he says shyly, shuffling his shoes.
Matt turns toward the voice, smiling. âHey there, buddy.â
The boy squints, catching sight of the bandages peeking from Mattâs sleeve. âYou hurt?â
âHmm?â
âYou hurtâyour fingers?â he repeats, pointing earnestly.
Itâs amazing how children can be so thoughtful and so observant, the way concern comes so naturally to them.Â
âOh,â Matt says, leaning forward slightly. âYeah, a little.â
The boy brightens immediately. âMy daddy gets ouchies like that too!â
Mattâs brows lift, amused. You turn to him, smiling. âMatt, this is Charlie. Charlieâs dad is a boxer.â
His whole expression shifts: surprise, then delight. âA boxer, huh?â
Charlie nods, all confidence now. âYup-yup!! He fights bad guys!â
Matt huffs an amused laugh. âThat so? You know,â he leans in conspiratorially, âmy dad was a boxer, too.â
Charlieâs eyes go huge. âReallyyyy!! Sâhe good?â
âPretty good, you could say that,â Matt says. âIs your daddy good?â
âUh-huh!! Heâs the toughest!â Charlie announces proudly, chin lifted. You murmur his dadâs name under your breath, and Matt nods in recognition. âOh, Iâve heard of him. Tough guy,â he says with an OK signâand Charlie practically glows at the praise.
Then, a little shyer again, Charlie opens his small hand. A single gold star sticker glints in his palm, bent at the corner from being clutched so tightly.
âUmmmm, this helps,â he explains. His voice has dropped into a whisper. âI give my daddy stickers when he gets hurt. Sâmakes him betters faster.â
Your heart squeezes. You crouch beside him and help him peel the backing loose where itâs stuck to itself.Â
âAll right?â you say gently.
Charlie grins up at you, gap-toothed, then turns back to Matt. Carefully, with all the focus in the world, he presses the sticker onto Mattâs sleeve. Itâs crooked, just above the cuff. âFeel betters, Mister Matt.â
Mattâs fingers lift, tracing the stickerâs bumpy edge, the faint adhesive tacky beneath his skin.Â
âThank you, Charlie,â he says, smiling. âI already do.â
Charlie beams. The job is done, and just like thatâwith a ââKayyyy! Bye!ââhe takes off toward the monkey bars, yelling the whole time.
You glance at Matt. His fingers are still ghosting over the star, and the gold gleams against the dark wool of his jacket.Â
By dismissal, he looks lighter than youâve seen him in months. One of the kids has given him a crayon-colored card, all rainbow scribbles and shaky hearts, and he carries it tucked under his arm. Itâs too valuable to fold into his coat.
On the train ride home, Matt sits with his head leaned toward the window, lit by the passing gold of evening.
âSee?â you say, nudging his knee lightly. âNot so bad, right? They loved you.â
âMm, they have good taste.â
You snort affectionately. âOh, donât let it go to your head. Theyâll forget you by snack time on Monday.â
âStill,â he murmurs, his smile deepening. A pause settles between you, then he adds, âThank you for bringing me.â
âJust had to make sure you didnât make a break for the rooftops,â you say. âHowâs the ribs?â
âBetter. A lot better.âÂ
âGood. If you ever get hurt like that again, Iâm dragging you straight back to my classroom.â
Matt chuckles, fingers finding the sticker. âI should get hurt more often, then,â he jokes, and you kick his shin so hard he lets out a yelp.
bonus:
By Monday, the week begins as usual. The shoes squeak, and tiny voices rise in overlapping chatter. Youâve barely settled when Charlie marches up to your desk, flashing you his famous gap-toothed smile, clutching a folded sheet of paper.
âThis is for Mister Matt,â he says solemnly. âYou gotta give it to him, please, thank you.â
You take it carefully, smoothing out the creases. The handwriting is large, wobbly and nearly illegible, done in thick black marker. They are the kind of letters written with a tongue peeking out in deep concentration, under the guidance of a well-meaning parent.
Dear Mister Matt,
I hope your hands feels better.
When I grow up I want to fight bad guys
but only if they are mean to dogs.
âCharlie
You laugh so hard you have to sit down.Â
a/n: i love matt murdock (ŕšáľâ¤áľŕš)
matt taglist! @mayal0pez @sixpossumsinaclownsuit
the position you were in was so akward. your back was on the matress and your hips lifted mid-airâ you were kind of doing a bridge pose.
"oh god, sam!" you yelled out and pressed your tippy toes harder into the ground. it was so hard to keep yourself elevated in this position.
sam's massive frame hovered over you. a menacing grin was plastered on his face. you have no idea what's gotten into him pumping two of his long fingers in and out of you with this ferocity. "look at that sensitive cunt."
you squealed so loud. his speed was ruthless and you didn't even know what to do with yourself. "owww sam. you're hurting me." you cried out but moaned at the way his curled fingers were hitting your g-spot perfectly.
he cut off your complaints by pressing his huge hand over your mouth. "awww it hurts, sweetheart? but you're moaning like a fucking whore. how's that? he asked, his voice devoid of any emotion.
you wanted to say something back but all the sounds you made got muffled by his hand. tears gathered at the bottom lid of your eyes because of how helpless you felt. you arched your back, trying to seek out some sort of relief but it was useless.
instead of him easing up, sam forced another finger inside of you. "yeah, your little cunt can take it." he barked out, a few droplets of spit landing on you. he was so sweaty that a few of his brunette hairstrands sticked to his forehead.
you began crying and you weren't sure if it was because of the intrusion or because of how much he scared you. you've never seen him like this before, his eyes all vacant and dark.
"god, you're a sensitive little bitch, aren't you?" he spat out before his face softened up. "shhh, baby. you know you love it when I abuse your poor cunnie." he proclaimed as he kept ramming his fingers in and out of your hole.
he was right and you were completely humilated. the motel room was full of loud, squelching sounds because of how wet you were. you couldn't deny that. but it was hurting so bad. your legs were trembling like jelly now and they were about to give out on you.
"you're so easy to play with." he teased, savoring the way your whole body was twitching as he played with your cunt.
"oh god I'm close!" you screamed out the best you could with his hand clasped over your mouth. before you knew it you came so hard on his fingers that your ears started ringing.
he pulled them out of you which caused you to instantly lose balance and fall down the floor. your entire body was convulsing at how intensely he fingered you and a schocked laugh left your throat.
sam crouched down on your level. "fucked you stupid with just my fingers, huh? I'll keep you around for now." he announced and threw you over his shoulder, knowing exactly what he will do to you next.
thinking about your sweet pussy being RESURRECTED KNIGHT! JASON TODDâS good luck charm before going into battle.
being a knight is a tough task for anyoneâ but for jason? itâs an easy task. and certainly, the fear of dying in battle was one anyone had entertained with⌠but jason was a rare case of having experienced deathâ itâs only the fact that heâs a living and walking example of resurrection that he doesnât fear death anymore. he doesnât fear bleeding out from stab wounds, he doesnât fear losing a bought with a fellow knight⌠no, what he fears most; is not coming home to you.
you gave jason a chance when no one else didâ you gave the âskeleton knightâ as they call him because heâs a living dead manâ a chance⌠and he never looked at you the same again, in the best way possible.
so, itâs not shocking that when the time comes that he and the fellow knight squadron has to follow kingâs orders and fight another kingdomâs knights⌠he takes the time in the night before to ruin you, ruin your pussy all over againâ because he loves you, and the best way he can show that? by letting you ride his cock like this.
âfuck baby, keep bouncing like that.â he whispers in the golden light of your bedroom, the fire place burning golden light onto the walls as the stars in the sky brightened. âfuck you look so gorgeous up âhere sweetheart.â
you moan louder than you mean to, both hands on his chest, digging into the scars on his chest from both combat and his death itself and looking at himâ disheveled as all hell but beautiful in his eyes. âjason- ngh! fuck!â
he nods encouragingly, his left hand running up your chest and cupped your cheek, his right hand remaining on your hip. âjust keep going baby⌠ride me like thatâŚâ
âwhyâ why you always gotta leaveâ fuck!â you whine, knowing the answer but wanting him to say it. âjust s-stay⌠stay here with me, jayâŚâ
he chuckles, meeting your bounce half way and thrusting into your fluttering folds, fucking your pussy rough as he begins to meet you halfway consistently. âbecause hun⌠itâs my job⌠i promise to come back to you, sweetheart.â he whispers, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your trembling lips, feeling you moan against him. ânever leaving this pretty lil face alone⌠âpromise.â
you couldnât stop the moans from leaving your lips, your right hand stay on his chest and the other wraps into his black hair, nails digging deep. âjason! oh! fuck! right thereâ ngh!â
jason didnât stop the smile from staying on his lips, squeezing your hips. âthatâs why i fuck you this good, baby, youâre my good luck charmâ havenât gone a night without fucking you⌠since the night i met you.â
you tried to bite back but you couldnât⌠only moans and his name falling from your mouthâ he always made sure you knew he loved him with the way his hips move.
âalways gonna make you feel good baby.â he continues to whisper, stroking his thumb on your cheek as his other thumb strokes down and begin to rub over your clitorus in a rapid manner. âforget that âm going away⌠just focus on me, hun. you cum for me and iâll cum in you⌠promise.â
and you listened to him⌠cause jason never broke his promises to you! especially when you feel him cum in you no less than three minutes later!
INSPIRED BY: this post by @/starr-jazz! (havenât watched a knight of seven kingdoms but dear god, finn bennett in knight armor is doing sum to me)
masterlist is here! click here for more!
â KENTLUV3RâS WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and donât repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!
Warnings: praise kink, hand pinning, sex while a literal crime is happening outside, reckless vigilante behavior, inspired by a scene in Narcos, MDNI
a/n: I fear Jason would actually do this in one of his more deranged moods. The others are probably more willing to leave you high and dry, finish the job, and come back later. Jason knows Bruce raised enough children to cover his ass.
Jason Todd is probably one of the few vigilantes who would rather finish what he started with you than rush off to help with the burning building caused by a car explosion a few streets away.
Don't start thinking that Jason doesn't care about Gotham. He loves Gotham, actually. Enough that the city has shaved years off his life and been the reason for his demise more than once. But does he care enough to pull out of the sweet, velvety walls of your pussy?
No, actually.
Bruce raised enough Bat-children for that particular reason.
You tried to get up when the first blast rattled the windows, but Jason was far faster. One broad hand caught both of your wrists and pinned them above your head while the other dragged your ankle to its rightful place over his shoulder, rough fingers curling around your calf as he settled his weight over you again.
"Jason, you have to go. What even was that?"
"Car bomb," he practically purred, pushing the leaky tip of his cock back into your pussy like the explosion had been nothing more than a minor interruption.
You tried to form a protest. Really, you did. But your protest amounted to little more than slapping one of his biceps when he cooed about how wet you were for him. His hips moved in slow, lazy strokes, making it increasingly difficult to remember the rest of the lecture you had prepared for him.
Another siren screamed somewhere outside, followed by the distant crackle of fire and shouting. Red and blue light flashed through the broken blinds of his safehouse, moving over Jason's naked body in restless streaks. It illuminated the sweat running between his pecs and caught in the pale scars scattered across his chest as he folded you deeper beneath him.
His green eyes never left your face, not even when another siren joined the first, while Gotham continued doing what Gotham did best.
Falling apart.
"Y-you need to go, Jay," you insisted, forcing the words between the moans slipping from your lips as he continued hitting that weak spot
"In a minute," he answered with a wink and a firm squeeze around your wrists.
God, Jason could be mean when he wanted to be. Today just happened to be one of those days.
Apparently, a minute meant whenever he was finished pulling every pretty sound he could from your lips, listening to the wet drag of your pussy around his cock whenever he found the spot that curled your toes.
"Couldn't leave you like this. So needy," he muttered against your throat, planting a constellation of kisses along your skin. The scrape of his stubble followed each one, rough enough to leave you warm before his lips soothed over the same spot. "Look at you. So wet for me."
"Jay," you breathed.
His palm pressed against the bulge his cock made low in your stomach, buried so deep inside you that you could barely breathe. You had a perfectly good argument prepared about how wrong it was for him to still be inside you while people were probably panicking in the streets, but then he pushed your leg farther back and rolled his hips again, and suddenly civic responsibility became a very difficult concept to hold on to.
"Gorgeous," he mused against your throat, kissing the hollow beneath your collarbone.
He finally released your hands, only so you could claw at his broad shoulders while he cupped your breasts. Jason muttered under his breath about how soft you were and how perfectly your breasts fit into his palms while you melted beneath him.
"I know, baby." His thumb and forefinger circled your nipple as it budded beneath his touch with a soft tug. "Gotham's falling apart." His teeth grazed your throat, leaving behind a mark that would darken by morning. "It does that every night."
The radio on the floor beside his helmet and your overnight bag had been going off nonstop by then, voices overlapping through bursts of static.
"Red Hood, respond."
Tim.
"Hood, I didn't come to Gotham to pick up after you. Where the hell are you?"
Dick.
Obviously, Jason was far too occupied to turn off the radio or do anything about the situation outside.
His grip around your breast tightened as his thrusts grew harder, matching the desperate movement of your hips. The mattress shifted beneath you while he watched your face with an unbearably smug, yet adoring look.
"Pretty thing," he groaned, eyes falling shut as his dark brows pinched together. He muttered about how close he was before catching your mouth with his. "What if I just let the city burn for you, hm?"
A burst of gunfire cracked through the radio and echoed from two streets down, sharp enough to make you flinch and tighten around his cock. Jason only paused long enough to listen, still toying with your breast as he cocked his head slightly.
"Modified M4," he confirmed against your pout. Another burst followed, as did his hips. "Cheap suppressor, too."
The radio crackled again with several increasingly annoyed demands to know where he was. Jason groaned for an entirely different reason and pressed his forehead against yours. His fingers left your breast and slipped between your bodies, finding your clit with practiced ease.
Your back arched before you could stop it.
"There you go," he praised, his mouth brushing across your cheek. "That's it, dove. Let me feel you."
His roughened thumb moved in slow circles, cruel and steady.
"You gonna come on my cock?" he asked, his voice dropping lower. "That what you need?"
The words kept spilling out between kisses, each one rougher and more desperate than the last.
Then Dick mentioned something about tracking Jason's suit and dragging him out himself.
That finally got a reaction.
Not the reaction Dick wanted, obviously.
Jason hooked an arm around your waist and hauled you upright until you were straddling him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. His hands settled at your waist, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of your sides as he guided you down again.
"Then we'd better finish before he gets here."
"Jason, I swear to God - "
"Yeah?" His green eyes glinted beneath lowered lashes. "Tell him how good I make you feel."
You made an offended little noise, but Jason only laughed and caught your lower lip between his teeth before kissing you again.
"That's my baby," he murmured, hands tightening around your waist as his thrusts grew meaner beneath you. Chest pressed against yours. The sound of skin hitting skin and all the lewd noises of your cunt filling the room. "So soft. So perfectly made for me. Don't know how you expect me to leave when you feel this good."
Outside, sirens wailed. The radio kept spitting out his name. Red light slid through the blinds while Gotham tried to tear itself apart a few streets away.
"You are genuinely the worst vigilante in Gotham."
"But I'm your favorite," Jason laughed as he pushed himself impossibly deeper.
You could bite, scratch, curse, and remind him that people were literally depending on him, but he answered every protest with another kiss and harsh thrust.
He was not leaving until both of you came.
And even then, Jason Todd had never been particularly good at stopping after one round.
dex wasnât supposed to love you and you definitely werenât supposed to get jealous over the older waitress maybe flirting with him.
warnings?: age gap (both consenting adults), ddba dex, reader is jealous and has dex wrapped around her finger, love confession, lowkey angst, pinv, kissing, licking, the whole works.
it was late, way too late at night. if your parents found out you were locking your front door as silently as possible at 3 am in the morning, your head would be on a stick.
but they werenât getting fucked by dex, so they wouldnât get it.
you should be asleep, you had a long day. 2 classes at college, followed by a lunch with your grandparents at a golf course. to end the night, a four hour shift at your local diner. in all honesty, the urge to sleep was strong.
but the ache between your legs was stronger.
your secret fuck buddy lived in the apartment complex right outside your neighborhood, it wasnât sketchy but you probably should have kept your pepper spray in your purse.
the street was quiet, a street lamp on the end of the street was flickering every 4 seconds. and you felt this eery feeling someone was watching. no matter how many times you scanned the area, you saw nothing.
you turned the street, rows of trees were to your left, at the end of the street was dexâs apartment. as you were walking you felt a hand grab at you from the trees.
a hand muffled the shriek that came out of you, a hard large body slammed you against him and whispered into your ear, ârelax sweetheartâ âits meâ he chuckled.
that voice was all too familiar and your heart went back to its original place. you elbowed the figure behind you and he laughed.
âwhat the fuck, dex?â you exclaimed.
dex intertwined his fingers with yours and brought them up to his mouth and gave your knuckles a peck. âi couldnât let my girl walk alone so late at night, wouldnât be very gentlemen-yâ dex smirked.
he dragged you into his embrace, and his addicting scent infiltrated your nose.
âI wouldnât have to make this daunting walk if you could just sneak into my houseâ you replied back partially annoyed.
dex clicked his tongue, âand risk being caught in your fancy neighborhood? no way, princess.â
you rolled your eyes, dex tapped you on the ass catching you. âbad girlâ he whispered.
by now, the both of you had reached his front door. once the apartment light had turned on, you were able to take in dex.
âthatâs why i do itâ you reminded your self as your gaze fell all over dex.
dex was wearing a black t-shirt which molded around his biceps. his sweatpants hung dangerously low on his waist and with the buldge between his legs you could tell he wasnât wearing his boxers.
his hair was roughly combed over and his grey stubble was covering the hard sexy jawline and chin cleft he had. the dark green eyes which were checking you out were dilated and filled with need that mirrored yours.
âi missed youâ dex whispered, walking closer to you. his hands grabbed onto the coat you were wearing. something told dex you werenât wearing much insideâŚ
dex smirked as he caught you looking shyly away, he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear as you whispered back âi missed you tooâ
dex stood still momentarily until he wrapped his hands under your ass and threw you over his shoulder. you laughed as you clawed onto the edge of his shirt.
when he placed you back on the bed, his t-shirt came down with you. you suppressed a moan at the sight of his body. he was just muscle on muscle. thick, thick biceps and veiny forearms. his abs were tight and flexed hard. the light dusting of hair all over his chest and arms which felt so good rubbed across your naked body. best part was the prize at the end of his v line.
a pleased sigh left dexâs mouth as he settled on a velvet stool that sat across from the bed, âtake it off..â he murmured with a slight smirk. his hands clasped and elbows resting on his thighs.
you shrugged off your purse and uggs. and played with the belt that kept your coat closed. the arousal between your legs grew as you watched dex take in your exposed legs when you placed one leg over another.
âif i donât.â you asked with a raise of eyebrows.
âi rip it off.â
this time you couldnât hold back a moan, untying the belt, you paused and looked up at dex. âcome.â you coaxed.
dex rose up and grabbed your jaw in his hand, he knelt to the floor and your pussy clenched at the puppy eyes he gave you.
with unwavering precise hands, dex peeled off the coat and let it drop on the bed. he was gifted the sight of the prettiest matching set he had ever seen on you.
the cami was dark navy and the white lace of your bra peaked from the top. matching shorts were tight on your legs, and dex would bet his life that you were wearing matching panties underneath.
dex kissed on your thighs while you ran your fingers all over his head and neck. his lips were chapped and rough against your soft skin. the trail of kisses moved higher up till he was gently making out with your clothed pussy.
he rested his chin on your thigh while his hands wrapped around your lower calfs. you felt like a god, seeing a big strong guy on his knees for you.
you petted his hair and cheek, dex closed his eyes in submission. âi didnât see you at bel aire this, afternoonâ dex asked.
the sudden question made you snap out of your thoughts, âyeah i was at the golf course with my grandparents. took the night shift today.â
âwhat? did you visit today? oh baby i shouldâve told you but it completely slipped my mind. im sorryâ you pouted.
dex smiled, âitâs alright, just stopped by. figured you werenât there when i saw madelyn instead.â
that had your blood boiling, your movement froze and you straightened up. dex obviously noticed, he peered up at you with brows furrowed.
âyou saw madelyn?â
âyeahâ
âdid you talk to herâ
dex let out a confused chuckle, âyeah a little bitâ
âwhatâs a little bit?â you ask moving your thigh a bit which led dex to move his chin.
âshe asked me if i was looking for someone and wanted a coffee- whats going onâ dex asked brushing his hand up your arm.
madelyn cooper was a waitress at the same diner you worked at, she was older than you. more mature, head screwed on tighter, and she was a huge flirt. you remember the gossips, she lured men in like a siren. the type of woman who touched menâs arms when she laughed and leaned too close when taking orders. she worked late shifts with you and somehow always found reasons to mention dex.
you looked at dex, he wasnât your boyfriend. dex was a guy you were seeing. no one knew about you two, how can they? dex was a vigilante and you were a college girl with a bright future. he was up for grabs by the hands of women like madelyn. in all honesty, you were in love with dex. what started as a one night stand, is now a relationship that you didnât know you needed.
he was there for you, looked out for you, pleased you in ways no one could ever.
ânothingâ you murmer sliding further back into the bed.
dex knew you were inlove with him, it was quite easy given how expressive your eyes were. he felt the same way, but he knows he canât.
he brought up madelyn on purpose, dex knew how much you hated that women. rightfully so. dex hated that woman too, she laughed obnoxiously loud and was incredibly messy. he hated messes.
âitâs not nothing.â dex joined you on the bed, he moved your legs to rest on his lap as he rested his head on the headboard. your body angled to face him.
you huff and look at dex, needy dex who cant go without touching you in some way. âi think you should stay away from her.â fuck, you dont sound intimidating at all. more insecure than intimidating.
dex smiled, crooked and so fucking sexy, his eyes were smiling too, rough lines around his eyes, god you were sexy when you were jealous.
âyou jealous?â
âno.â
âliarâŚâ dex shook his head once.
âshe flirts with every man that walks in,â you snapped, removing your legs from your lap âand youâreââ
âwhat?â dex tested, his grip tight on your legs so you dont move away. you look up at him which was a big mistake because he was staring at you like he knew exactly what you were thinking.
âyou know what,â you muttered.
dex leaned closer, his eyes fell to your lips. âsay itâ
you stayed silent. what can you say? âyouâre mineâ âbecause i love youâ
dex tilted his head slightly, studying you like he was trying to take apart every emotion underneath your skin. he dragged you closer, your ass knudging his lap.
âYou think I want her?â he asked softly.
you couldnât reply, you were scared to lose him, cared too much about him, knew too much about him to let go. dexâs hand suddenly came up, fingers curling under your jaw.
âlook at me.â
âyou know where I am every night,â he said quietly. âyou know whoâs in this apartment every night with me?â
your breathing hitched. âme..â
âyou, sweetheartâ oh, dex was dangerous because for all the awful things dex was capable of, he never lied to you.
âthen why do you keep teasing me about her?â
his thumb brushed slowly across your jaw while his other hand grazed the soft skin of your legs.
âbecause,â he murmured, âyou get possessive, and make me feel wanted. i like it.â he admits
heat rushes straight to your face. dex smiles and you fall in love all over again.
âyouâre insane.â
âi know.â
his hand slid from your jaw to your throat, not squeezing, just holding. your heart nearly stopped.
âi like it when you careâ dex admits once again.
you sarcastically laugh, âmaybe thatâs my problemâ
dex goes still. âwhatâs that supposed to mean?â
you laughed under your breath, but it sounded sad even to you. âit means i think about you all the time.â your voice cracked slightly. âand i know i shouldnât.â
the expression on his face changed instantly.
âyou think i donât?â he asked quietly. dex looked down for a second, jaw tense like the words physically hurt to say. âyou make me want things i canât have.â
your chest tightened painfully.
âbut i chose this.â
âthat doesnât make it safe.â
âi donât care.â
âi love you.â
the words slipped before you could even realize what you said.
dex froze, you immediately look down, mortified. âplease forget i said that, im sleep deprived.â
but his hand tightened gently against your throat, forcing your attention back to him.
he slowly leaned in, lips an inch away from yours. his pink tongue poked out barely and licked against your lips. his warm breath felt so good against your lips, âsay itâŚagainâ
you whined, your hands gripping at his shoulders. âi love youâ
dex let out a guttural groan of relief and need, he smashed his lips into yours. you fall back on the bed and dex crawls in between your legs to kiss you.
his big naked frame cages you under him and all your problems disappear.
âi love youâ he says inbetween pecks against your lips.
your back arches off the bed and you grind up into dex who begins to grow painfully hard.
eyes shut in pleasure he licks down your throat and his fingers pull your cami straps down.
you push him off of you, but dex is too strong and doesnât feel it. âdex mmmhâ you whine trying to get him off.
he snaps out of his daze and leans back. you sit up and remove your cami and shorts.
you look perfect in white, the lace feels so soft against dexâs fingers as he feels up your pussy. his eyes track your face expressions.
âget on ur hands and kneesâ
you moaned in response and obeyed. dex kisses you on your ass and hooked his teeth into your waistband before letting go with a snap.
he licked and pecked up your lower back and unclasped your bra, he took in the red marks of the bra digging into your skin.
âyou donât have to wear something you dont want toâ dex murmured soothing out the skin
âi like toâ you reassured softly.
dex placed a hand around your stomach and reeled you in, your back against his chest, he bunched your hair and kissed your shoulders and nape of your neck.
you were losing your shit, his touch leaving fire. his rough hands palmed your breasts while still kissing anywhere his lips could reach.
âdex pleaseâ you cried.
you found your self sitting on his lap, his body leaning against his headboard. dex slid his fingers into your panties and took them them, keeping them on his side table. (you were never getting those back)
you pulled his sweats down and pumped his dick in your hand. dex hit his head against the headboard, your soft hands making him think heâs in heaven.
âoh yeahâ he panted as your dragged his dick through your wet folds.
dexâs hands grabbed onto your waist, the tight hold definitely leaving bruises. you pushed his dick into your pussy and a shaky sound of relief escaped your mouth.
you cried out his name as you felt him deeper and deeper. he was so big, his big dick, his big hands which were sliding up and down your back.
mouth agaped, dex took the opportunity to shove his thumb into your mouth. you licked and sucked on his thumb, you felt your drool string down your chin and dexâs lips swept it all.
your knees were getting tired, riding dex was so tiring yet rewarding. âdexâ you cried.
âcome on, you can do itâ dex whispered into your neck.
he caught a nipple in your mouth and just let it sit there in his mouth as he felt you ride him.
âpleaseâ
âplease?â he mocked, his thumb came to run circles on your clit and you drop your head on his shoulder.
you mercifully nod and dex flips you onto your back and thrusts into you throwing your right leg over his shoulder.
this opens you up so much more and his dick reaches places that has you a withering mess beneath him. you tighten your hold on his shoulders, you bite onto his shoulder as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.
the moans bounce off the walls of dexâs apartment as he spills into you, you come right after with whiny groans of his name.
his heavy weight falls over you and the suffocation feels so good. you both lay there for what feels like hours before dex rolls off of you. immediately missing the touch of you, dex pulls you into his arms.
âi love youâ he whispers. âno one makes me as pathetic of a man as you do, sweetheartâ
you blush at his words and turn to face him, heâs so close to your face. you take a moment just to take him in. his pretty eyes, rugged sexy scar on his perfect cheekbones. you lean down and kiss him on his chin dimples and dexâs jaw falls open.
