#lip x karen

[strnqer]

TEN THINGS I HATE ABOUT U

pairing. lip gallagher x afab!reader

synopsis. lip gallagher believed he had it all: a best friend who always had his back and loved him unconditionally—the same girl he thought he had fallen for—and a dysfunctionally perfect family. but one day as he climbed her window in search of her, he stumbled upon a list detailing all the ways in which he had hurt her. and suddenly she wasn’t just his best friend, she was the girl he had taken for granted, knowing or believing she would always be by his side. what would happen when, one day, she simply wasn’t there anymore?

content warning

i. the beginning of the end

ii. one: his voice

iii. two: his smile

iv. three: his laugh

v. four: his eyes

vi. five: his hands

vii. six: his looks

viii. seven: his scent

ix. eight: lip gallagher

x. nine: the way he knew me

xi. ten: you

[tzpscuckchair]

Fav Shameless Trope; Lip being attracted to girls who give him shit.

[zutaralesbian]

The “I promise I don’t love you” scene between Lip and Karen was such good quality ship angst. Why lie

[guraiuna]

to this day, season 1 karen and lip have some of the best chemistry i've seen in the show

[lipgall4gher]

Algún día tendré este escenario

Y no estoy listo

Para ver tus decisiones

[bumblesimagines]

Ride or Die, Remember?

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

Summary: When his life takes a swift and abrupt turn, Lip Gallagher is left feeling a storm of emotions such as heartbreak and anger. In the midst of the hurricane, he doesn't realize what's standing right in front of him.

CW/TW: Typical Shameless warnings, Karen's assault on Frank mentioned, angst(?), the best friend trope

~~~

He had to find Lip before the Gallagher took a nosedive into manslaughter territory. 

The cold nipped annoyingly at his exposed face, the viciousness of the freezing temperatures having luckily gone down with the slow arrival of spring and summer but still cold enough to give someone hyperthermia if they weren't careful. He fiddled with his fingerless gloves, clouds forming from his lips each time he huffed out some air. His legs maneuvered him down alleyways and sidewalks; be it by luck or a divine deity being merciful, he hardly had a rough time with the slippery, iced-over ground. 

(Y/N)'s eyes locked on the familiar figure crossing the street who slammed his hand into the back of a car that drove by him without slowing down or stopping, relief feeling his veins at the sight of him. Lip looked too relaxed to have heard the news of what Karen had done. Good, but it only meant (Y/N) had the horrible job of breaking it to him. He crossed the street and weaved around those bustling around the sidewalk, almost wincing when he heard Joey and his brother giggling at the bottom of the stairs when Lip stepped by them.

"Be a pal, Lip. When you and Frank get done passing around, uh, 'Daddyz Girl', why don't you send her over to our place?" Joey snickered again, his cheeks a rosy red from his laughter and the cold. (Y/N) groaned internally and slammed his shoulder against Joey's as he stepped past him, shooting the boy a withering glare. 

"Get lost." He snapped at him and watched Joey snatch the back of his little brother's hoodie with a grumble before he walked away scowling. (Y/N) licked his dry lips and turned his head upward toward Lip, a grimace forming at the dumbfounded, near puppy-eyed look on Lip's face. His best friend stared down at him from his spot on one of the steps, head tilting ever so slightly to the side.

"You have any idea what the hell he's talking about?" Lip questioned, the metal clanging beneath his boots as he slowly stepped down the stairs toward him, bits of snow flying from his shoes. (Y/N)'s eyes flickered desperately between Lip's vibrant blue ones, words heavy in his throat but his mouth refusing to form any of them for the sake of Lip's heart. The Gallaghers were a tough family but each of them had their weak points.

Besides, how the hell could you break the news about a video floating around showing their best friend's dad and crush fucking? (Y/N) certainly had no idea.

"(Y/N)..." Lip lifted his brows at him, a frown beginning to tug at his lips when the teen in front of him remained deathly silent. The suspicion seeping into his eyes only made (Y/N) wince and avert his gaze. "Who the fuck is 'Daddyz Girl'? Is it about Fiona? Is it- is it Debs? V?"

"I..." (Y/N) clamped his mouth shut and rolled his head back, releasing a low groan into the cold morning air. He stared at the gloomy gray clouds floating overhead and dropped his head back to gaze at his friend again, his hand reaching out to pluck the cigarette from between his fingers and take a deep inhale. Lip watched him closely, his brows only furrowing further. Releasing the smoke in a sigh, he pursed his lips. "It's honestly better if I... if I showed you, Lip."

It certainly hadn't been any better showing him, perhaps it'd been worse.

The agonizingly long wait for the site and video to load with Lip's face right up on the laptop's screen definitely hadn't soothed his jittering nerves. It'd nearly given him a headache when the video finally loaded and Lip's eyes almost bulged out of his head at the sight of Karen naked as the day she'd been born on his father's equally bare lap. The silence from Lip - horribly filled in with pants, moans, skin slapping on skin, and Frank's drunken mutterings - only forced (Y/N) to tear himself away from his windowsill and close the laptop before it drove him crazy. 

"That fucker." Lip snarled, and the typically calm boy (Y/N) knew was replaced with a rage-filled Gallagher. Lip shot up from the desk chair and snatched his coat, slipping it on hurriedly as he stumbled out of (Y/N)'s bedroom and practiced raced down the hallway toward the front door. He tossed it open and stomped down the porch, a gust of cold wind slipping into the house. 

"Fuck," (Y/N) hissed, almost tripping over his untied laces trying to follow his friend out the door, the cool metal of the doorknob making him flinch when he shut the door behind him. His eyes tracked Lip storming down the sidewalk and toward the Jackson house just down the street by the elevated train tracks. Shit, shit, shit. (Y/N) called out to him as he attempted to catch up. "Lip! Jesus, Lip, just- let's think about this, huh? What- What are you even going to do, Lip?"

"He fucked my girlfriend, (Y/N)! What the hell do you think I'm going to do?!" Lip snapped over his shoulder, his trembling hands curling and uncurling. (Y/N) knew Lip well enough to think of just a few things Lip was capable of, with murder as a very slim option for the otherwise Harvard-smart teenager. 

(Y/N) bit his lip "Lip, you know Karen has been fucking half the guys at school! Is she really worth being this?" He still vaguely recalled the day Karen had approached him with batted lashes and a coy smile, as well as the sullen look that fell on her face when he dismissed her with a scoff. "She's not even your girlfriend!"

Spinning around on his heel to face him, Lip snatched the collar of his hoodie and tugged him close enough for their noses to bump. "I love her." He whispered lowly, his bottom lip threatening to quiver before he released him and resumed his warpath toward the slim two-story house. Karen coincidentally stepped outside and pointedly ignored Lip's questions until she disappeared down the road with the dirty blonde staring after her hopelessly. 

His jaw clenched and his eyes scanned the area around them until they locked on one of the cars parked in an alleyway. Lip made a beeline for it and fumbled with the pockets of his coat until he pulled out a makeshift picklock to mess with the door. (Y/N) rolled his lips into his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, groaning again when he heard the soft click of the door unlocking. Fucking Steve. 

"Fuck," (Y/N) sighed heavily and dug into his pockets until he found his phone, flipping it open and dialing in the number he had memorized since he was a child. He pressed it against his ear and watched Lip get inside the car to hotwire it. His older cousin's cheery voice greeted him sweetly. "Hey, Kev? I, uh... I need you to drive down to Sheila's place. I think Lip might actually try to kill Frank. 'Kay, thanks." 

Once he hung up, he crossed the street toward the car and grabbed the door before Lip could shut it. "What are you doing, Lip? Are you going to run your pops over the second you see him? Stealing a car is one thing, using it to commit manslaughter is a whole other ballpark. Don't act stupid when you're the smartest asshole in this shitstain of a place." 

"He can't keep getting away with this bullshit, (Y/N), he can't. That good-for-nothing piece of shit..." Lip's teeth clamped down on his bottom lip, his leg bouncing furiously and hands gripping onto the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned a new shade of white. "I love her. I fucking love her and he- he-" 

"I get it, alright? I know it sucks to get your heart broken, trust me, I know." (Y/N) released a shaky sigh and rubbed his cold fingers against his forehead. "Listen, I... I just ask that you don't kill him, okay? Get in a punch or two and leave it be. I don't want to have to visit you in the same prison my old man is locked up in, alright?"

Lip let out a deep sigh. "Yeah... yeah, fine. I... I'll try not to." He muttered quietly, his rage finally simmering down and out of manslaughter territory. (Y/N)'s lips pulled back into a tight-lipped smile and he stepped away from the car to let Lip slam the door shut and pull out into the neighborhood's main road. 

Roughly fifteen minutes passed before Frank turned a corner further down the sidewalk and made his way over to the Jackson house. Once he was close enough, the car sputtered to life and sped toward him, barreling down trash cans and swerving around to catch the panicked running man until Frank slid over the hood of another car, forcing Lip to ram into the side of it. (Y/N) exhaled a sigh of relief when Kevin finally pulled up and the two quickly rushed over to the Gallaghers as Lip began to pummel his fist and feet into Frank's body.

"Come on, come on! Calm down, alright?!" Kevin shouted and leaned down to grab Lip's arms, managing to pull him off his father for a brief moment until Lip shoved him away and went in for seconds. (Y/N) quickly dove in between the two and roughly took Lip by the shoulders, digging his fingers into his jacket and pushing him back. 

"You're bleeding, Lip, come the fuck on. You fucked him up enough, okay?" Lip's chest heaved, his lips curled into a sneer and a trickle of blood slipped down the side of his head from an injury on his temple. His feet dug into the ground, hands grasping onto the sides of (Y/N)'s hoodie to push him away. "Lip."

Kevin pointed a finger at him and planted himself firmly in front of Frank. "That's enough, Lip. Listen to (Y/N) and get the fuck out of here!" 

With one final, forceful push from (Y/N), Lip relented and swung his arm around his friend's waist, allowing the teenager to guide him away from his bloody and bruised father. He remained silent on the walk back to (Y/N)'s place, only heavy panting filling the air between them. The tension in his muscles and limbs began to disappear and the storm of fury in his eyes gave way to a look of pure heartache and betrayal. (Y/N) could only pat his side and led him to his bedroom.

Lip collapsed on the bed and tiredly shrugged off his coat and gloves, blindly tossing them aside somewhere in the room. (Y/N) searched his room and bathroom, collecting some cotton balls, a bandaid, and rubbing alcohol. Hardly a proper med kit but it was all they really had in the house. He tossed the supplies on the bed and stood in front of Lip, forcing his blank stare away from the wall and onto him.

"Ready?" (Y/N) dipped his fingers into Lip's curls and gently tugged his head back. He used his free hand to unscrew the cap of the rubbing alcohol and press one cotton ball against it, giving the bottle a quick tilt to soak up the cotton before he began dabbing at the injury with a slightly crinkled nose. Lip's hands moved to rest against (Y/N)'s thighs, his fingers digging into him with each painful prick of pain that shot through his head. 

Once finished, (Y/N) wiped away at the liquid with his thumb and released Lip so he could fiddle with the bandaid. Lip dropped his forehead onto (Y/N)'s stomach, his hands beginning to inch upward ever so slowly. His fingers dipped under the hoodie, the rest of his hands pushing up the hoodie and shirt underneath to expose (Y/N)'s stomach. Lip tilted his head and pressed his lips against the bare skin, the bridge of his nose pushing up the clothes further. 

"What are you doing?" (Y/N) asked softly, freeing one of the bandaid wings and working on the other. 

"Destressing." Lip muttered against his skin, continuing to nuzzle and kiss whatever skin he could reach. His lips felt dry and cracked against him, and (Y/N) nearly squirmed when Lip swiped his tongue over his happy trail. His hand flew down to grab hold of Lip's hair again, forcing his head back and slapping the bandaid over the cut.

"We haven't done that together since seventh grade, Lip." (Y/N) reminded him with raised brows, scooping up the bloodied cotton and bandaid papers into his hand and tossing them in the small trash can by his desk. Lip's hands dropped over his lap and his lips slightly jutted out, his sharp gaze following (Y/N) around the room. 

"So? Friends get each other off all the time." Lip pointed out, his hands shooting out to grab the bottom of (Y/N)'s hoodie and drag him closer toward him, face pressing into his side again.

"And look where getting off with Karen got you, Phillip." (Y/N) wriggled around in Lip's hold and tumbled onto the bed, his back meeting the mattress and only prompting Lip to crawl over him. Despite himself, he released a breathy laugh when Lip's mouth pressed into his neck and his cool hands slipped under his hoodie. 

"This is different." Lip's voice came out muffled, his words wiping the smile off his face and making his heart twist uncomfortably. God, how he hated it. 

"'Cause you don't love me." (Y/N) breathed and moved his hands to press against Lip's shoulder blades, effectively pushing him up and off him. Lip flopped beside him onto the mattress and blinked at him, his brows twitching down into a furrow. 

"No shit I love you, (Y/N). You've been my ride-or-die since first grade. You're basically a Gallagher now." Ah, fuck, that one stung more than it needed to. (Y/N) forced out a hum of acknowledgment and inhaled sharply through his nose, his body rolling over so he could reach out and grab his cigarette pack from the nightstand. 

"Yeah, well, last I checked-" He messed with the lighter until it flickered on, taking a deep inhale once the cigarette lit. He pushed himself up against the headboard and breathed out a cloud of smoke. "-brothers don't sleep together, Lip. Besides, you said it yourself: you don't swing that way. You only like fucked up chicks who'll never like you back." 

"I don't want to fight today, (Y/N). I'm fucking serious." Lip leaned back into the pillows with a hint of a scowl on his face. "I've had a shit enough day as is."

"Whatever," (Y/N) shook his head lightly. "We can play video games until you forget about Karen and your dad and all that other bullshit, alright? But if you want to mess around with someone, it won't be with me."

"Fine."

[myocsfanfictions]

South Side Story

Shameless Fanfiction

Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 22

Marty aside, Veronica and Kevin's wedding day was amazing. V and Fiona managed to tie Marty in the bathroom so that they could get married in the Alibi. Everyone was there.

Carol got so emotional. She had held Desna's hand as V and Kev shared their vows. The Gallagers, of course, had been present. Even Frank seemed genuinely happy, and not only because of the alcohol. Ian had invited Mandy Milkovich. They were still pretending to be dating, but the girl seemed to be pretty content with that accommodation. Unfortunately, though, Karen Jackson came, and she liked to be all over Lip for the entire time. But Desna noticed the way Karen observed her every time she got close to the boy.

She wanted her reaction; Desna was well aware. Karen liked to see Desna get jealous and angry as if to make a point. But she didn't want to give that bitch the satisfaction. Lip cared about her; Desna knew that. And it was enough.

"Do you wanna dance?" Lip asked her as the party started. His voice came from behind her. His lips close to her ear.

"Sure," she answered, taking his hand and letting him lead her to the dancefloor. And she didn't miss it: Karen's glare from across the room, and Desna's smile in her direction. Then her attention went back to Lip when he had pulled her close.

"You look beautiful," he said in her ear with a smirk.

"I hoped you'd like it," she had answered. Desna had chosen to put on a simple purple satin dress. It was comfortable, but it hugged her body perfectly, and when she tried it on, she had no doubt that it was the dress that she would have worn.

"I didn't see this," he said with his hands on her hips. Desna cocked her head to the side with a playful smirk.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," she said, looking into his eyes. His face was so close that she only had to lean over to close the small space between them.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked. His lips turned up in a grin, and she nodded, liking how his hands guided her body closer to his. "I really want to kiss you," he whispered, making her giggle. She wanted it, too.

"Kiss already," Kev's voice made them turn with wide eyes as Kevin and Vee danced next to them.

"What?" Desna and Lip asked at the same time.

"I've figured it out since we spoke about him," Veronica said, looking at Desna as her arms were around her husband.

"And... I mean..." she muttered, "Is that okay?"

"I don't want you pregnant," Vee warned her.

"And no sex when we are in the house," Kev pleaded, "It is traumatic enough to know that you are having sex, bug."

Desna blushed, "Kev!"

Since that day, her encounters with Lip have been easier to organize. Now Fiona, Vee, and Kev knew what was going on, so it was no longer difficult for them to justify why they wanted to spend time together. Desna has also found herself sleeping at the Gallaghers from time to time, but there had been no sex those times since Carl and Ian slept in Lip's same room.

That was why, that morning, she was in Lip's bed, his arm around her, and his eyes still closed, when she finally woke up. Desna turned towards him, smiling as she observed him sleeping. She caressed his cheek lightly as she studied his features. Lip didn't open his eyes, but his arm pulled her closer.

"Morning," she whispered with a little giggle.

"I was awake," Lip muttered. Desna leaned over to peck his cheek. That made him tiredly smile.

"You better," she answered. "We gotta go to school." Lip groaned, making her giggle again. Then, the sound of the door opening made her turn to look in that direction. Desna frowned when she saw who it was.

"Desna?" the boy that had just entered said.

"Warren," she said slowly sitting up, while Lip groaned.

"Lip," the boy said.

"Warren," Lip muttered, his arm adjusting around Desna's hip. He really didn't want to wake up that morning.

"Where's my paper?" Warren asked.

"Where's my money?" Lip's quick reply made her smile. Then his fingers lightly gripped her hip before he started to get up.

"Okay," he said jumping down the bunk bed, "I wanna see it."

As the boys exited the room, Desna jumped down too. She walked towards her clothes, glancing towards the corridor.

"Thirty-five, right?" Warren asked, making Desna shook her head.

"No, fifty," Lip answered. Then Warren started to say strange sounds, stereotyped sounds that people who didn't speak an Asian language thought Asian languages sounded like.

"Stop speaking fake Korean, Warren," Lip said, "I never said thirty-five. Des, did I say thirty-five?"

"Never heard of thirty-five," she answered.

"See, I've got a witness," Lip said. "I've never said thirty-five. Not for the paper I wrote you last month, not for the paper I wrote you last semester, not for this. All right? It's fifty." When he got back, Lip had brought her a brush, which Desna took with a quick 'thank you' as she started to comb her hair.

"Can you do thirty-six?" Warren asked, but Lip refused.

"Thirty-eight?" Desna and Lip looked at each other before Lip sat on Ian's bed. The girl went to the bathroom to quickly change into her clothes and kept listening to what Lip was saying to Warren.

"Now, the fact here is that you, the one Korean I know, made a deal for fifty bucks for an original essay about The Great Goddamn Gatsby," Lip was saying as Desna went back in the room, laying her shoulder against the doorframe, observing him as he took his shirt off, "Yet, once again, you're trying to lower my agreed-upon price. Okay? So I want you to give me fifty or GFY."

Desna smiled.

"GFY?" Warren asked confused.

"Go fuck yourself," Lip said.

Warren let out a frustrated breath, but finally, he gave Lip his fifty bucks.

"Thank you," Lip said cockily, observing Warren leaving the room. Desna let the boy pass, but her eyes remained on Lip. He smirked at her, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Desna crossed the room to stop in front of Lip, who parted his legs so that she could stand between them.

"I told you," she started, putting her hands on his naked shoulders, liking the feeling of his skin under her fingers, "It turns me on when you go all smartass on people." Lip's smirk got wider, as his hands moved to her hips.

"Does it?" He smirked, then moved his hand to the side of her neck, bringing her closer so that their lips could touch. She smiled as they kissed. This situation was becoming rather pleasant. Desna was happy that she and Lip seemed more inclined to spend time with each other, even if it did not involve sex. She liked it.

Suddenly, a buzzing sound made Lip groan as he turned towards where the sound was coming from. Desna took a breath as he stood up to walk to his bed.

“Karen, hey,” she should have known. It seemed like Karen knew when Lip and Desna spent time together. It was becoming more persistent lately.

Lip turned to Desna, who forced herself to smile before starting to put her books back in her bag. “Yeah, sure. No problem,” Lip said. Alright. See you later.”

Silence fell in the room. Desna didn't really want to give Karen Jackson too much thought; she had decided it, and she wanted to keep that promise that she made to herself.

"We-um..." Lip started to speak from behind Desna. "We'll catch up at the school entrance to talk to Oompa."

Desna nodded her head, still not turning to him. "She gave you his contact," she answered simply, "I think it's fair." She heard Lip take a breath, so as she closed her bag, Desna looked at him with a small smile. "What's that face?" she asked, observing his expression. Always thinking, Lip was always thinking.

"Nothing," he shook his head before taking her hand and pulling her closer. She let him guide her until his arms moved around her waist. On his lips appeared a smirk as she moved her hands to lock around his neck, "Where were we?" Desna giggled before his mouth was on hers. She closed her eyes as her fingers went through his locks, to keep him close in the passionate kiss they were sharing. His hands moved from her hips to her ass-cheeks to push her against his body. His fingers grabbed her flesh, and she let out a moan when her phone rang.

"Really?" Lip groaned, making her giggle.

"It's better this way," she said as she took her phone from the front pocket of her jeans, "We have no time."

"I can be quick," she rolled her eyes as she pressed the button to lit up the screen. A frown formed on her face as she saw a message from an unknown number.

Hi. It said.

It had already happened some days before. Probably, someone had just the wrong number, and they kept trying. But why say only 'Hi'. She wondered if she had to write back to tell whoever it was that they were probably searching for someone else. Or they may have figured it out at some point.

"What is it?" Lip asked, observing Desna putting her phone back into her pocket.

"Nothing, wrong number," she said with a smile before taking his hand. "Come on, let's go downstairs."

Desna and Lip made their way to the stairs, and they could already hear the Gallagher family being active and ready for the day. "Lip gave me enough for it yesterday," they heard Fiona's voice, "I picked up a shift and forgot to walk it into the payment center." The oldest Gallagher had Liam in her arms, and she was finishing preparing the lunch for her siblings.

"Everything okay?" Desna asked as she noticed Steve running behind Fiona.

"I just forgot to pay the bill, Des," Fiona said as Steve looked at the money jar with wide eyes.

"Four hundred and thirty bucks?" he asked, "Lip's flushed this month." Desna smiled at Lip as he get past her to go around the counter.

"It's SAT season," Fiona explained.

"He is always flush during SAT season," Debbie explained as she was finishing to get her bag ready.

"SAT?" Steve asked, confused.

"College tests," Ian answered, giving Desna's shoulder a squeeze as he passed behind her.

"He tutors?" Steve asked, but Lip shook his head.

"No, takes," he said with a cocky smile that made Desna chuckle as she fixed Carl's hat.

"Oh, hey!" Ian said to get his older brother's attention. "I got another lead for you." Desna looked at Lip.

"Aren't you fully booked this week?" she asked, and the boy smiled.

"Yeah, I am," he answered before looking at Ian, "Set it up, duche. I'm taking it for someone else today, but there's another session in two weeks." Desna observed Lip with admiration; she knew he was smart, but he always surprised her with how smart he was. She was sure he could have a great future before him. And she hoped he would.

"Don't take the phone today, okay?" Fiona said, "I need it."

"I need it!" Debbie said, making all of them frown.

"For what?" Ian asked.

"Cold calling for babysitting gigs." She explained, "I sound more mature on the phone." Desna smiled fondly at the girl.

"Have you eaten?" Lip asked her as he walked behind her with Liam in his arms.

"Not hungry," Desna answered, "I'll grab something at school."

Finally, Fiona managed to get everyone ready for school, so they left the house to get inside Steve's car. He was a good addition; now they had free rides to school every day and no more waking up early to walk the streets of Chicago in the freezing cold of the morning. His car was big enough for them all to sit inside. Of course, Carl and Debbie would end up on one of their laps, but the ride was quite comfortable.

First, Steve dropped the kids off, and then he drove them to high school. Desna had to keep herself from rolling her eyes when she noticed Karen already waiting for Lip at the school entrance. Lip was sitting in the front, so he didn't notice Desna's reaction, but Ian was sitting next to her, and he caressed her back with an encouraging smile.

Let's do this, Desna said to herself.

*************

Tag List: @th3h0nkz @aunicornmademedoit @g0thchick @britbratface

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If you liked it, please leave a ♥️ and reblog!

[zutaralesbian]

Honestly you make points. I go back and forth about whether or not I ship them because they were written pretty badly in the end. But I don’t think Lip ever loved another woman the way he loved Karen in the timeline of the show. And yeah, that includes Tami even tho I do enjoy them together.

lip x karen always idc idc

[baileybagel24]

So do we think Buck watches Heartstopper and aggressively screams every time Ben Hope is on screen? Like he started watching for the Bi coming of age and the fluffy gay love story but is now Invested in the gay nerd and his bisexual rugby lad boyfriend.

It’s a hyperfixation and he binges it all in one night and comes into work the next day crying because “No Charlie you matter so much stop” and then reads all the comics between calls.

Buck won’t stop talking about it so everyone comes over to see what all the fuss is about and Buck screams at the screen while wildly gesturing to Hen, Athena, and Karen about how awful Ben is.

Tommy just stands in the back smiling fondly as Eddie stares in bemusement and horror as Buck’s arms fling around the room and his yells ratchet up when Charlie and Ben are in the music block

Tommy laughs at Eddie’s wide eyed look and just goes “yeah Evan’s invested, he’s turned this into a blood sport”

After which Tommy and Eddie always show up to Buck, Hen, and Karen’s weekly watch party-wine night, equally entertained watching the show and their boyfriend/friends lose their minds.

[strnqer]

chapter zero: the beginning of the end

pairing: lip gallagher x afab!reader

series history

lip gallagher climbed your window once more. the same window he had jumped out of countless times before your mother had caught him on your bed.

despite being best friends, you never let lip meet her.

if anyone asked frank, your mother was just like him in every way—well, all except for franks somewhat outgoing and talkative nature, hell, he's even had a good conversation with a tree. your mother on the other hand, had a relentless need to point out everyone's flaws; she was judgmental and often homophobic. she also believed in many things, all of which were extremely controversial in their time. anyone could easily describe her as awful.

yet, if someone asked you, you’d talk about how lovely she was on her good days—those rare moments when she wasn't raising a drunken fist at your presence.

but then there were those days. the days she'd be so high off whatever drug she'd find the night before and she'd be shit. on those days you would have to physically restrain your mother to prevent her from doing whatever crazy shit she'd thought of next. it's one of the hundreds of reasons why lip despised the woman. he hadn't even met her, yet the mere thought of someone laying their hands on you overwhelmed him with rage that was often hard to control. ian would often have to restrain him before he jumped the gate at the sound of your screams.

lip grunted as he lifted himself up on her ledge, he gently slid the glass window open and hastily climbed inside almost falling on his face in the process. "fuck" he muttered, grabbing onto her shelf for balance.

lips eyes casted around the room looking for any signs of his girl, he called your name softly, subconsciously holding his breathe as he strained his ears to listen. the only sound that could be heard was the hand of the clock on your wall ticking away seconds in the silence.

he huffed, pacing slowly around the room, eyes carefully scanning through your belongings. he’d memorized where everything was from the many times he'd been there already, but he hoped that something would be different this time—something that might lead him to you. the mere thought of finding you hurt filled him with nausea.

he swallowed the feeling down.

his gaze landed on your bookshelf and there, nestled between your favorite books sat a medium-sized framed photo of you together. the soft white frame had a small red heart in the corner. lip almost laughed, a small smile tugging its way onto his mouth 'typical.' he thought.

the photo itself took him by surprise. it was from years ago, a time when he wasn’t such an asshole.

you were sat delicately up on his lap in the gallagher kitchen table, laughing at something he’d said, while he looked at you as if you hung the stars and the moon yourself. you were the center of his universe. he looked at you as if there was nobody else in the room, like it was just the two of you in that simple moment. his fingers traced it softly before wrapping themselves around the frame.

he opened it and took out the old photo, leaving its remains on the shelf. tears welled up in his eyes at the bittersweet memory but he brushed them away quickly, refusing to cry pathetically in your room.

lip flipped the picture, you always wrote some sappy shit in the back of your photos, in fact, it was one of the many things he loved about you.

his smile faded.

in the back, he saw your neat cursive writing: 'ten things i hate about you.’ beneath it was a long list of reasons of all the hatred you had for him. him. each word felt like a punch in the gut.

regret washed over him in waves. he thought of every moment you’d shared, each one heavy with the weight of his mistakes.

why had he been such a jerk to the one person he loved?

he had been a dick to fiona and even debbie at times, but those are his sisters—it was different. you were the love of his life for crying out loud.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry" he whispered, to who, he wouldn't know, he just... "i'm so fucking sorry"

tears streamed down his face like a fountain, and finally he broke. lip fell to the floor with their picture clutched tightly in his hand. he scanned your words again and again, each one cutting only deeper.

his sobs grew louder, and for a moment he was grateful your mother was likely passed out in the living room floor, oblivious to your absence.

why had he treated you like something so easily replaceable? you were one of the few people he relied on, the one person he thought could never leave.

why am i so fucked up.

he had taken for granted the one person willing to risk everything for him. maybe it was the fact that he knew you’d never go anywhere, or the fact that you had proved many times that despite his shitty personality you’d always remain his girl. either way he's lost you, he lost his soulmate.

in the process of finding himself he lost the person that was most important to him in his life and he didn't know if you’d ever return.

next chapter

[milkovich-cigarettes]

mandy and karen needed to stop fighting over lip. they should've just kissed tbh that would've solved everything faster

[theonethatwatchesalotofshows]

Heather by Conan Gray fits the Mandy- Lip- Karen situation in season 3 so well

[fushitoru]

all i want for christmas is you! a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him.

warnings ⸺ FLUFF, smut in the form of fingering and p i v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, some jealousy, but mostly crack, pta cookie baking for megumi, very domestic, not edited, “good girl,” teasing, use of pet names like “baby,” gojo is a warning in himself

a/n hbd to my husband and loml 😚😚 i hope you guys enjoy this it kind of made me realize only long fics heal my soul but this is anticipation of holidays :33

general masterlist

You sometimes did not know what to do with Satoru.

When he told you to come over to make Christmas cookies that are part of his PTA commitments for Megumi, you really didn’t expect him to come out of his room with that sweater on. It’s an ugly sweater—so he’s got the holiday spirit nailed down—that has printed “BIG PACKAGE JUST FOR YOU.” Below it, a cartoon Santa stood pantsless, strategically holding a neatly wrapped gift box over his crotch.

You give him a look as he comes out to join you in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you wore that in front of Tsumiki and Megumi.”

He has the gall to look offended as he puts on his even stupider “Your opinion wasn’t on the recipe” apron. “Of course, what kind of father do you think I am?”

You sigh, moving to put in the last of the dry ingredients. “I saw Megumi watching Breaking Bad on his iPad last week.”

“What?” he gasps dramatically as he pauses while moving for the fridge. “I swear I downloaded Youtube Kids!”

Look, Satoru is a good dad. Foster-dad. Whatever. He’s been taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki for ages now, ever since that incident happened, and he’s been doing his best. But, unfortunately, his adult life and burdens and responsibilities cause him sometimes to be a absent father. He makes up for it—goes shopping with Tsumiki for her clothes, spends quality time with Megumi.

One thing he’d never miss, however, are those PTA meetings.

He is the PTA mom final boss. No matter what event is being held, he’s going to go all out. You don’t miss the smirk he gives to Karen everytime he brings an even bigger cookie platter for Megumi’s homeroom than she did for her son Sam’s, nor the sassy pursed lips as he donates artist-grade markers from Michael’s instead of Mia’s cheap ones from Walmart.

Yea, he is just petty like that, but it’s always the moms whose sons have gotten into fights with Megumi that he outdoes everytime. You know better than to question his peculiar form of revenge.

“I think that means he found a way to break through the parental controls. He’s definitely your kid,” you reply with a bit of mirth in your voice. Then, you quickly move to intercept Satoru’s journey to get the eggs as soon as you notice a miniscule movement of his. You were not about to let Satoru force another trip to Whole Foods with the clumsiness you’re all too familiar with in your five years of dating.

Grabbing the eggs before he can, you turn around to find him staring at you, a dazzled look on his face.

“What?” you ask, already smirking. The view of the outfit you’d worn today had been obscured by the apron when he first came in, but when you moved to get the eggs in front of him, he definitely got a view of your ass in your tiny red skirt and fuzzy, festive top.

“Why the hell are you wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit?”

“I was thinking we’d watch Christmas movies and chill today after the cookies!” you exclaim, just as Satoru interrupts with, “We’re baking cookies for children, you freak.”

The room went dead silent.

Your cheerful smile dropped instantly. Meanwhile, Satoru’s face lit up like he’s just won the lottery, full of pure glee.

Both of you shout at the same time, “What?”

You slam the eggs down onto the counter with just enough force to make him flinch, narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a freak?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he yelped, backpedaling so fast you were surprised he didn’t trip over his own feet. “It’s just—” He gestured wildly at you. “—that outfit is… is…”

“Is what?” you demand, crossing your arms and daring him to dig himself deeper.

“Babe,” he starts to whine, apologetic like a wet dog and padding his way back over to you while pulling you in for a back hug. “It’s hot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, it’s driving me crazy. I’m trying to focus on cookies, and you’re over here looking like every Christmas fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“Get off me,” you grumble, shooting him a glare as you try to shake him off. “You are not touching these cookies. Sit on the couch.”

He yelps as you slap his hand. “Babe, but I’ll just be reinforcing the patriarchy if I let you stay and do all the work in the kitchen.” Then, he moves closer to your ear like the chronically online loser he is and whispers, “6’ 3’’ btw.”

“Go away!” you shriek, waving him off. This process would indeed be two times faster if Satoru was on his couch. There wasn’t any rush, but you’d really appreciate getting to the dicking-down part of tonight after much appreciated privacy from the kids for the first time in forever. You take a mental note to thank Yuji’s grandpa and Nobara’s grandmother with extra cookies for the sleepover as you shoo your boyfriend to the couch.

You get back to work on the wet ingredients by cracking the eggs, but not before you hear a “I’ll be reflecting on the systematic oppression women face in the workforce.”

Pulling off the oven mitts on your hands, you wash your hand but not without sneaking a peek over the kitchen counter. You were locked in on the cookies, paying no mind to Satoru’s existential bemoaning, and now that you’re done, you can’t wait for the fun part of tonight.

After waiting a few minutes and checking and rechecking the cookies to make sure they’re done, you set them aside to cool and make sure to turn off the oven. Tonight, you were determined to get that big fucking package Santa owed you, and your boyfriend was going to be the one to deliver it.

As you walk out, you know the strat you’re going to use: innocently suggest a Christmas movie to watch, snuggle close to him, and he’ll fall into the trap you set for him like a bear towards honey. You know your boyfriend all too well, and today, you were feeling coy.

He’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, his posture as awful as ever. But the second he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes immediately dart to the movement of your bare legs, lingering on the tiny red skirt you’re still wearing, before slowly traveling back up to your chest. Wow. He really wasn’t making this difficult.

You plop down next to him while grabbing the remote, pulling up Netflix. “What movie should we watch today?”

He blinks, clearly distracted. “We’re watching a movie?”

The Princess Switch catches in the side of your eye as you scroll through the options. Without looking at him, you answer, “Yes? What else were we going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, his voice already dipping into that teasing tone you know so well. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve Vanessa Hudgens playing herself two times.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you, though, and when you finally glance at him, his expression has shifted. He’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are a little darker, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “What?” you ask, already smirking.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice lower now. “Just... you look really good in that outfit.”

Your cheeks heat, but you play it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Satoru.”

“Won’t it?” he murmurs, leaning a little closer, his hand brushing against your knee. The heat of his palm lingers even after he pulls it away, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to respond—something witty, something to keep the banter going—but then his hand moves again, this time resting firmly on your thigh. “You’re really going to make me sit through a Christmas movie when you look like that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

Your breath hitches, and you can’t help the way your body reacts, leaning just a fraction closer to him. “What would you rather do?” you challenge, your voice softer now.

His gaze dips to your lips, and that’s all the invitation he needs. In a second, he’s closing the distance, his mouth pressing against yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, like he’s been waiting for this all day, and when his hand slides higher up your thigh, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the movie and the preview playing. Satoru, clearly a little annoyed judging by the pout on his face, moves to close the preview featuring Vanessa Hudgens’ obnoxious British accent and then the room is silent except for the wet sounds of your sloppy kissing.

When you’ve both made out for a while—now with you on his lap—you both pull back with fastened breaths, looking at each other’s glistening lips. Finally, from Satoru comes out a, “That. I wanted to do that.”

Maybe it’s the attention whore in you always looking to rile up Satoru and get his affection, but you couldn’t refrain from blurting out a “Are you sure you wanted to do this with me, or would Linda have sufficed?”

At the scrunch of Satoru’s nose, his face practically spells out a Who the fuck is Linda? “You know, the one that gets really friendly with you when I’m going to the bathroom at those PTA meetings.”

Satoru sometimes did not know what to do with you.

Here he is, trying to make out with you when you’re looking like that, makeup done perfectly and looking beautiful as always. He hasn’t gotten laid with you in a hot minute, and here you are, picking at him. He has no fucking clue who Linda is, but what he does know is that you’re really cute when you get jealous. “Yeah?” he teases, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. His grin is maddeningly smug, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Linda sounds nice. Should I call her up?”

Your jaw drops, but the sharp retort forming in your head is lost when his hand slides from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You know,” he continues, his voice a low murmur, “if you’re jealous, you could just say so.”

“I’m not jealous,” you shoot back, your voice unconvincing even to yourself. You shift under his gaze, trying to keep up the façade, but it’s hard when his lips hover so close to yours.

Satoru’s grin widens. “No? Then why are you bringing up some imaginary PTA Linda when I’m clearly only interested in you?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss that makes your breath catch.

“You’re clearly only interested in being annoying,” you quip, but the words lack their usual bite as his hand slips lower, trailing down your side until it rests on your bare thigh. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver through you.

“Annoying?” he echoes, his tone mock-offended. “That’s a big word for someone who just ruined a perfectly good makeout session to talk about Linda.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when his thumb begins tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I didn’t ruin anything,” you argue weakly.

“Didn’t you?” He dips his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Because now, instead of kissing you like I want to, I’m stuck reassuring you that Linda doesn’t stand a chance against my very sexy, very jealous girlfriend.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but it turns into a soft gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his tongue soothing the faint sting. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, tangling in his hair and tugging him closer.

“Mm, but you like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. His free hand slides higher, skimming under the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing against the soft skin of your hip. “Admit it.”

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is breathless now. He’s too close, his scent overwhelming, his touch setting your nerves on fire. When his hand tightens on your thigh and he pulls you closer, you give in, letting him capture your lips in a kiss that’s all desperation.

Linda, whoever she may be, is long forgotten as Satoru kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve spent apart. His hands roam, his touch firm and confident, and when he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re all I want,” you believe him completely.

A breathless “Satoru” leaves your lips as he gently–but hurriedly–lowers you down to lay on the couch while he bends over you, inching down the hem of your top to bury his head in your tits. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I missed my girls.” He starts to leaves rough kisses, an occasional bite and suck, and then stops. Takes in a deep breath. “Wow, you smell good babe.”

You look at him, flustered. “Stop smelling my tits, oh my god.” For good measure, you grab his hair to bury his face against your breasts once more.

“No,” smooch, “it’s,” smooch, “smelling good. Like the new holiday scents from Bath and Body Works.” He then abandons your chest to kiss his way down your body, sliding your skirt down as he kisses around the edge of your panties. “I’ve missed her, too.”

Despite yourself, you moan, spreading your legs to give him full access. He takes it enthusiastically, giving you a little kiss in your middle. Then, his eyes don’t leave yours as he uses his teeth to pull your panties down, slowly and sultry. Your pussy leaks even more, and the motherfucker notices, because there’s a faint smirk on his face as he hones back in your wetness, running his fingers to spread your slick. “Wow, my girl must have been sooo pent up,” he croons, eyes not leaving your hole and the way it clenched every time he spoke. “My good girl is soo desperate.”

Without missing a beat, you sneakily reply, “Don’t call me that, that’s so corny oh my god—-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp as he enters a finger in. When he finally curls it, hitting your g-spot dead on, you suck in your breath. You really missed this.

“Oh, really?” He giggles, clearly amused by you trying to rile him up. “If my baby doesn’t like being called a good girl then why is she clenching so hard on my—“ thrust— “fingers?”

And suddenly the feminist in you leaves as his big, thick fingers ram into you faster than ever, and you start squealing like the slut you are for your incredibly hot boyfriend who’s equally as much of a slut for you, judging based on the rock hard erection against your thigh. Take that, Linda.

You’re in a daze of pleasure, too fucked out to notice Gojo wrenching down his sweats to pull out his throbbing cock, to pump it to full mast. It’s only when he rips his finger away from your cavern that you start to whimper, clawing at his arms to continue fingering you.

And he starts cooing, giving you a small kiss on your cheek as he aligns his dick with your pussy. “I know baby, I know,” and he groans as the soft, wet heat of your pussy grips on him hard as he pushes in. It’s not long before he starts thrusting, wiping your tears while driving in even faster. “Wow, good fucking pussy.”

“Satoru,” you whine, but you don’t even know for what. You were close enough when he was fingering you, but now you’re steadily approaching your climax. But Satoru, who’s attuned to what your body needs, readjusts himself to go even deeper.

It’s when you gasp loudly that a glint lights up in his eyes. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” He drives into that spot like a jackhammer, savoring in your little squeals and moans of his name, until finally, he feels you climax.

“Oh my god,” you says breathlessly as your orgasm takes over you, convulsing while Satoru doesn’t let up, continuing his pace until his hips become more sloppy. After a few off rhythm thrusts, he comes in you, collapsing on top of you.

He’s breathing heavily from exertion, and you run your nails on his back and hair gently. You both bask in the glow of your orgasm. Of course, that is until Satoru perks his head up. “Do you think I can eat that kid Martin’s cookie? Megumi told me he doesn’t like him and that he’s annoying—-OWWW, what was that for?”

[mcrdvcks]

— goodnight n go

chapter summary: You and Matt are childhood friends who met at the orphanage. But people always assume you two are dating.

word count: 3.6k+

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

notes: as an og matt murdock stan, i can't believe i've never wrote for him. i hope this is accurate to his character!

and the title goodnight n go is a song by ariana grande from her album sweetener - which i fully believe is an underrated album

also i consider this taking place between dd s3 and ddba

warnings/tags: mentions of twirling/playing with hair, after endgame (so tony is dead😭), best friends to lovers, fluff, pining, oblivious idiots, slight angst, mention of injuries and blood

“And don’t forget to clean the coffee filter. I don’t want anyone getting sick. Again.” You said, grabbing your purse.

“I swear, sometimes your worse than my mother.” Foggy replied, sipping from his mug.

Karen quirked a brow, “your mother isn’t exactly a role model for parenting.”

Matt let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "She’s got a point, Foggy."

Foggy sighed dramatically, setting his mug down. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll clean the damn filter. But if I get coffee poisoning or whatever, I’m blaming you."

"You’ll live," you said, amused. You glanced at Matt, reaching out to fix the slightly crooked knot on his tie. "You should eat something before court."

"Not hungry," he replied, though he didn’t move away.

"You never are," you muttered, smoothing your hands over his lapels before stepping back. "Text me if you need anything."

Matt tilted his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "You say that like you won’t just show up unannounced."

"Don’t tempt me." You grabbed your coat, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "See you later."

"See you," Matt said, voice softer now.

You gave a quick wave to Foggy and Karen before heading for the door.

Foggy exhaled loudly as it closed behind you. "That was totally normal. Super normal. Just two friends being weirdly affectionate in front of their other friends."

Matt ignored him, reaching for his cane. "We’re close. That’s all."

Karen shot him a look. "You’re also full of shit."

Matt just smirked and walked out.

---

It was late by the time you made it to Matt’s apartment, balancing a takeout bag in one hand as you knocked. You didn’t have to wait long—there was the distinct sound of locks clicking before the door swung open.

"You didn’t text," Matt said, leaning against the doorframe.

"You didn’t either," you shot back, stepping inside without invitation. "So I figured you probably forgot to eat. Again."

Matt sighed, but there was a hint of a smile on his face as he closed the door behind you. "You don’t have to keep feeding me, you know."

"You don’t have to keep skipping meals, but here we are," you said, setting the takeout on the counter.

Matt chuckled, walking over to the couch and sinking into it. "How was work?"

"Same as always. How was court?"

"Long," he admitted, rubbing a hand over his face. "But we won."

"Then that calls for a celebration." You grabbed the food containers and joined him on the couch, handing him one.

Matt took it, his fingers brushing over yours briefly. "You really didn’t have to do this."

"Yeah, well, I was already out, and I know your fridge is probably empty."

Matt smirked. "You checked my fridge?"

You rolled your eyes. "Not today, but I have a pretty good guess. And considering you didn’t argue…"

He huffed out a quiet laugh. "Fine. You got me."

You both ate in comfortable silence, the familiar hum of the city filtering in through the window. When you were done, you leaned back against the couch, letting out a content sigh.

Matt shifted beside you, his arm resting along the back of the couch. It was second nature when you tucked yourself closer, your head resting against his shoulder.

"You tired?" he asked, voice low.

"Mm, a little," you admitted.

Matt's fingers absently played with the ends of your hair, a familiar and comforting habit.

"You could stay," he murmured.

"You always say that," you said, eyes closed.

"And you always do."

You huffed a soft laugh but didn’t argue.

---

The scent of coffee pulled you from sleep, warm and rich, mingling with the quiet sounds of the city outside. You cracked one eye open, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling before remembering—Matt’s apartment.

You stretched, groggy but comfortable, the sheets soft and warm around you. The space beside you was empty, but the dip in the mattress told you he hadn’t been gone long.

Dragging yourself up, you padded toward the kitchen, yawning as you leaned against the counter. Matt stood by the stove, pouring coffee like he had all the time in the world. He was still in the sweats and T-shirt he’d worn to bed, hair slightly messy, looking impossibly at ease.

"Didn’t wake you, did I?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"You and your super-hearing," you muttered, rubbing your eyes. "I would’ve kept sleeping if your coffee didn’t smell so damn good."

Matt smirked, reaching for a second mug. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

You grabbed the hem of his shirt, tugging lightly as you stepped closer, resting your forehead against his shoulder. He huffed out a quiet laugh, free hand settling at your hip like it was second nature.

"Tired?"

"Mm. Your couch is comfy, but your bed is better."

"You say that like you weren’t the one who crawled in."

"Yeah, yeah," you mumbled, peeling away just enough to steal his coffee and take a sip.

Matt didn’t even try to stop you. "I was going to give you your own."

"You’re too slow."

"Or maybe I just like it when you steal from me."

You smirked against the rim of the mug, not missing the way his hand lingered at your waist. Instead of calling him out, you took another sip and turned toward the fridge.

"Pretty sure you don’t have food in here," you said, opening the door.

"You’d be correct," Matt said, completely unbothered.

You sighed, grabbing one of his hoodies off the back of a chair and pulling it on over your sleep shirt. "Guess we’re getting breakfast, then."

Matt hummed, setting his mug down before reaching out, fingers brushing over the sleeve. "You know you keep stealing my clothes, right?"

"You gonna do something about it, Murdock?"

His lips twitched, like he was holding back a smile. "Not a thing."

You grinned, grabbing his cane and tossing it to him before heading for the door. "C’mon, Devil Boy. Breakfast is on me."

"Generous," Matt mused, following after you without hesitation. "Just don’t expect me to let you steal my coffee and my food."

You didn’t bother responding. He’d let you do both anyway.

---

You smoothed your hands down the fabric of your outfit, eyeing yourself in the mirror one last time. It wasn’t often that you got this dressed up—definitely not for work—but a Stark Industries gala demanded something a little more refined than your usual jeans and hoodie.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. When you opened it, Matt stood there, looking effortlessly put together in a sleek black suit. The tie was perfect, the hair just slightly tousled, and the way he carried himself made it impossible to tell that he wasn’t seeing any of it.

"You clean up nice, Murdock," you teased, grabbing your purse.

His lips quirked into a small smile. "You’re one to talk."

His voice had that subtle shift, the one that always came when he was taking you in—not with his eyes, but in the way only he could. He wasn’t just listening to your words; he was listening to the way your breath hitched slightly, the way your heartbeat quickened when he leaned in a fraction too close.

You cleared your throat, stepping back. "Ready?"

"Always," Matt said, offering his arm.

You rolled your eyes but took it anyway, his touch steady and warm as the two of you headed out.

---

The gala was exactly what you expected—sleek, extravagant, and filled with people who had more money than they knew what to do with. The chatter was loud, glasses clinking as servers weaved through the crowd with trays of expensive champagne.

Matt stuck close to your side, his fingers lightly grazing your arm as the two of you maneuvered through the room. It wasn’t like he needed to be guided, but the contact was easy, familiar.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this?" he murmured near your ear.

"Because I asked nicely," you replied, plucking two glasses from a passing tray and handing him one.

"Mm. That must’ve been it."

You huffed a quiet laugh, taking a sip. The atmosphere was buzzing, but Matt seemed relaxed—more than you expected.

"Surprised you’re handling this so well," you admitted. "Figured the noise would drive you insane."

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. "I’m filtering most of it out. But you—" He shifted just a little closer, lowering his voice. "You’re easy to focus on."

Your fingers tightened slightly around your glass. He did not just say that with a straight face.

Before you could come up with a decent response, someone approached—one of your higher-ups at Stark Industries. You smiled, exchanging pleasantries, introducing Matt with an easy, "This is my friend, Matt Murdock."

Your boss smiled politely before turning to Matt. "It’s great to meet you. And what do you do?"

Matt’s lips twitched like he was holding back amusement. "I’m a lawyer."

"Ah, an honest profession," your boss said, clearly impressed. "And you’re here as—?"

"Her date," Matt said smoothly, with absolutely no hesitation.

Your brain short-circuited for half a second. Your boss nodded approvingly before launching into some talk about Stark’s latest legal team, but you barely heard a word of it.

Matt, meanwhile, looked completely unfazed. Like he hadn’t just said something that made your stomach flip.

The conversation wrapped up, and as soon as your boss was out of earshot, you leaned in slightly, keeping your voice low.

"Date?"

Matt just smiled, lifting his glass. "Figured that was easier than explaining whatever this is."

You squinted at him, but he only took a sip of his drink, calm as ever.

Damn him.

---

At some point in the night, the gala turned into something more social—music playing, people moving toward the open dance floor. You weren’t much of a dancer, but Matt, of course, looked completely at ease, even without seeing the way people moved around him.

"You’re staring," Matt said suddenly, lips quirking.

You scoffed. "I am not."

"You are," he countered, setting his empty glass down. Then, as if it was the easiest thing in the world, he extended a hand. "Dance with me?"

You blinked. "You hate dancing."

"That’s not true."

"You avoid dancing."

Matt smirked. "And yet, I’m asking you."

You hesitated for half a second before sighing, setting your glass down and placing your hand in his. His fingers curled around yours, warm and firm as he pulled you toward the floor.

His other hand settled at your waist, light but certain. Yours rested against his shoulder, and for a moment, the world shrunk to just the two of you, the music humming around you as Matt led with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible.

"You’ve done this before," you murmured, impressed despite yourself.

"Few times," Matt admitted. "But this is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed it."

Your breath hitched, heart stuttering before you could stop it. And from the way his lips twitched, you knew he caught it.

"You’re doing that on purpose," you muttered.

"Doing what?"

"This. Being all—" You gestured vaguely.

Matt just smiled, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Maybe."

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t pull away. If anything, you let yourself relax into him, your fingers idly tracing the fabric of his suit as the two of you swayed.

It didn’t feel friendly. It didn’t feel like some casual thing you could brush off. It felt like something else, something real, something you weren’t sure you were ready to name just yet.

And from the way Matt held you—careful, close, like he knew exactly what this was—he knew it, too.

---

It had been a few days since the gala, and life carried on as usual—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

You pushed open the door to Nelson, Murdock & Page, a takeout bag in one hand and a coffee in the other. The office was quiet, save for the sound of Foggy typing furiously at his keyboard and Karen flipping through a stack of papers at her desk.

"Tell me you guys have eaten," you said, setting the bag down with a thud.

Karen looked up first, lips twitching. "We have now."

Foggy groaned in relief, already reaching for the food. "You’re a lifesaver. Matt’s in his office, by the way."

You hummed in acknowledgment, grabbing the coffee before heading toward the glass-paneled room at the back. The door was slightly open, and Matt was exactly where you expected—leaning back in his chair, fingers pressed against his temple like he was nursing a headache.

"You look like hell," you said, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

Matt’s lips quirked at the sound of your voice. "And yet, you still bring me coffee."

"Because I’m nice," you teased, setting it in front of him.

Matt reached for the cup, fingers brushing yours in the process. You ignored the way your pulse jumped at the contact, shifting to sit on the edge of his desk.

"You should eat, too," you said. "I brought—"

"You didn’t have to do that," Matt murmured, cutting you off.

You rolled your eyes. "You say that every time, and yet here I am, making sure you don’t keel over from malnutrition."

Matt exhaled a quiet laugh, fingers curling around the coffee cup. "I appreciate it."

"You better."

There was a pause. The usual kind, the kind that never used to feel weighted—except, lately, it did.

Matt turned his head slightly, like he was studying you in that way he always did. "You okay?"

The question caught you off guard. "Me? You’re the one who looks like he’s been through hell and back."

Matt huffed. "Occupational hazard."

You folded your arms, watching him for a moment. His tie was slightly loosened, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and there was the faintest shadow of exhaustion under his eyes. The usual signs of Matt Murdock burning the candle at both ends.

You reached out without thinking, adjusting the knot of his tie like you had at the gala. He stayed perfectly still, letting you.

"You really need to take better care of yourself," you muttered, smoothing out the fabric before pulling back.

Matt caught your wrist before you could move too far, his thumb brushing over the inside of it—absent, thoughtless, but lingering.

"You do that enough for the both of us," he murmured.

Your breath hitched before you could stop it. His lips twitched.

Damn him.

You pulled your wrist free, shaking your head. "Eat your food, Murdock."

Matt smiled like he knew exactly what he was doing. "Yes, ma’am."

---

A knock at your door this late was never a good sign.

You barely had time to process it before a second, weaker knock followed. Frowning, you unlocked the door and swung it open—only for Matt to nearly collapse against the frame.

"Jesus, Matt—" You grabbed his arm, steadying him as he exhaled sharply. His suit was torn in places, blood staining the red fabric, his lip split, and a nasty bruise was already forming along his jaw.

"You gonna let me in, or…?" His voice was rough, strained, but still laced with that familiar teasing edge.

You didn’t answer, just hooked an arm under his and pulled him inside, kicking the door shut behind you. Without hesitation, you grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet and shoved him down onto the couch.

Matt let out a quiet grunt as he sat, shifting carefully. "You don’t have to—"

"Shut up." You dropped to your knees in front of him, flipping the kit open. "Take off the suit."

"You don’t waste time, do you?"

"Matt."

"Alright, alright," he muttered, wincing as he pulled the top half of the suit down, exposing bruised ribs and a gash along his side. He also took off his helmet.

You inhaled sharply but said nothing. This wasn’t new—you’d patched him up more times than you could count. But something about tonight felt different.

The room was quiet as you worked, disinfecting the wound, pressing gauze to the worst of it. Your hands lingered, fingertips brushing over the edge of a bruise, tracing the uneven rise and fall of his breath.

Matt didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into it, just slightly.

"You’re mad at me," he murmured.

You scoffed, pressing the bandage to his ribs a little harder than necessary. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"Of course I’m mad, Matt," you snapped, voice low but edged with frustration. "You show up at my door looking like this, you don’t tell me where you were or how bad it was—do you even think about what it’s like for me? Sitting here, waiting for you to—"

Matt cut you off the only way he knew how.

He kissed you.

It wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t questioning. It was firm, certain—like he’d already decided long before this moment that it was inevitable.

Your breath caught, but you didn’t pull away. His hands found your face, fingers ghosting along your jaw, mapping you out the way only he could.

You exhaled against his lips, your own hands grabbing onto his bare shoulders, nails pressing just slightly into his skin, but Matt didn’t pull away. If anything, he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his hands sliding from your jaw to the nape of your neck. His fingers tangled in your hair, his touch light, careful—like he wasn’t sure how much he could take before you stopped him.

You didn’t.

Instead, you kissed him back, frustration melting into something else entirely. The heat of it, the way he breathed against your lips like he needed this just as badly as you did—it sent your heart hammering in your chest.

Finally, you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, forehead brushing against his.

"Matt," you whispered, voice unsteady.

His hands stayed where they were, fingertips still curled against the base of your neck. "Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice low, rough. "And I will."

You exhaled, fingers flexing against his skin. "I don’t want you to stop," you admitted.

Matt’s breath hitched. You felt it more than you heard it—the way his chest rose sharply beneath your hands, the way his grip on you tightened like he was committing this moment to memory.

Then, as quickly as it started, his lips were on yours again—slower this time, deliberate.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, caught up in him, but when you finally pulled away, Matt’s hands lingered, his thumbs brushing over your skin like he was still grounding himself.

"You’re still hurt," you murmured, running a hand over his ribs, where fresh gauze was now taped in place.

Matt let out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head. "You’re the one distracting me."

"You kissed me, Murdock."

"Mm. And you kissed me back."

You huffed, rolling your eyes, but you didn’t move away. "You need rest."

Matt hummed, not agreeing but not arguing either. His hands finally dropped from your face, settling instead at your waist, like letting go completely wasn’t an option.

"You staying?" he asked, voice softer now.

“Yeah. Afterall, you are in my apartment.”

Matt let out a quiet hum, his hands still resting at your waist, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your shirt. He wasn’t letting go, and you weren’t pulling away.

"You’re on the floor," he murmured.

"Yeah, no shit," you said, raising a brow.

His lips quirked. "Come up here."

You hesitated, but only for a second before shifting, moving to sit beside him on the couch. Matt adjusted just enough to make room, one arm draping along the back of the cushions. His other hand found your knee, thumb brushing absentmindedly against it.

"You’re ridiculous," you muttered, leaning your head back against the couch.

"How so?"

"You come here half-dead, I patch you up, and then instead of resting, you start—" You gestured vaguely between the two of you.

"Kissing you?" Matt supplied, smirking.

You shot him a look. "Distracting me."

Matt exhaled a quiet laugh, tilting his head in that way he always did when he was focused on you, listening. "Do you regret it?"

The question made your breath catch, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you reached over, your fingers trailing along the edge of his jaw, ghosting over the bruise forming there. Matt didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned into your touch.

"No," you admitted softly.

His grip on your knee tightened just slightly. "Good."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. "You do need rest, though."

Matt hummed, clearly not in a hurry to move. His fingers slid up, resting lightly against the curve of your hip. "Stay?"

You exhaled, shaking your head. "Matt, I live here."

"Right. Convenient." He smirked, thumb brushing against your skin.

You huffed, shifting to lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. He didn’t hesitate, his arm slipping around you like it was second nature.

For a while, neither of you spoke. His breathing was steady, the warmth of him grounding, familiar. You could feel the tension in his muscles start to ease, his body finally giving in to exhaustion.

"You’re not going out again tonight, right?" you asked, voice low.

Matt didn’t answer right away, which was already an answer.

"Matt."

"I won’t," he murmured.

"You better not." You tightened your grip on his arm, just slightly. "Or I’m locking you in here next time."

Matt let out a quiet chuckle. "Terrifying."

"Damn right," you mumbled, letting your eyes slip shut.

He didn’t say anything else, just pulled you closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm.

And for once, Matt actually stayed still.

i had a lot of fun writing this - the idea of falling in love with your best friend is just so cute! (curses to my childhood self for not having a male best friend to fall in love with😭)

it may be slightly unclear but reader is an engineer at stark industries!

and, one more thing, i'd love to write more of these two! if you have any requests, send them in! i fear that that shower scene in that ddba trailer has taken up my mind... so don't be surprised if i write shower sex with matt soon...

[multiversediaries]

MORE THAN FRIENDS

⤷ FRANK CASTLE X READER

Summary: After overhearing a conversation between Matt and Karen, you find comfort in the arms of the big, bad Punisher.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, small angst, soft, and i mean, VERY soft frank

Part count: 1/?

A/N: i loved, loved, LOVED! writing this!!!!! i hope u guys like it as much as i do ^-^ apologies for any mistakes! english is not my first language!

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” You heard Matt’s voice from outside of their office. You had just came back into the office, after looking more into a few cases you were all working on. You were eager to share the information you acquired to both your boyfriend, Matt, and Foggy.

“You are in a relationship, Matthew. This is insane.” Karen soon spoke up. You raised your ears in curiosity. Were they talking about you? You leaned into the door, trying to listen into their conversation.

You have been in a loving relationship with Matt for about two years now. You met him while working at his law firm, and ultimately fell for him. Who wouldn’t? Matt is a dream come true. It didn’t make you uncomfortable to know that his ex girlfriend, Karen, also worked along side Matt, since you knew he loved you. He reminded you every single day of how much he loved and appreciated you. He never gave you a reason to doubt him.

“Y/N? God, Karen. Can’t you see? She means nothing— not next to you.” Matt said, your heart sinking at his words. No, this isn’t the Matt you knew. The Matt you knew and fell in love with would never speak of you like this. No.. he loved you. He told you every day.

He loved you… right?

“You don’t mean that, Matt.” Karen replied softly. You could sense pity in her voice for you.

“Y/N… she’s lovely. She really is— she’s so good to me, but she’s not you. She will never be you.”

You heard Karen reply, but you weren’t paying attention anymore. You bit your bottom lip, hiding your silent cries, and shuttering breaths. You started to walk away from the office, not daring to even look back. You were grateful it was usually noisy around the office during that time, so Matt wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

You stood in the middle of the sidewalk, finally allowing yourself to hurt. Tears streamed down your face, painful sobs leaving your throat. The stares of people didn’t matter to you. How could he? How could you have been so naive? It was all too good to be true, and you knew this. You knew it was, yet you brushed it off. Just thinking this was the universe finally letting you be happy, for once. How naive.

You walked around the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. not having a place to go. You shared the apartment with Matt. You couldn’t go to Karen, or Foggy. Gosh, where were you going to sleep for tonight? Those were the only people you truly trusted and knew. You didn’t have any family left in Hell’s Kitchen. No one.

As you walked around town, flashbacks kept replaying in your head. Walking past that italian restaurant Matt loved so much, the small bar Matt liked playing pool in, the park Matt loved taking walks with you at, everything reminded you of him. You closed your eyes in defeat, as you felt small rain drops fall on your skin.

Just what you needed.

But even then, it was comforting. You always liked how the city looked during rainy nights. It brought you peace and now, consolation. You walked around the streets you loved so much, an emotionless expression in your face. You felt empty. You felt so pathetic, and like you had wasted two years of your life. Two years of nothing but what you thought was happiness and love. But it was just a fantasy. A delusion. Fiction. It just wasn’t real, nothing was real. You weren’t Karen. You didn’t have as much history with Matt as Karen did. You just weren’t her.

While you continued to walk, your tears now hidden in the rain, giving you the freedom to let go, to cry as much as you pleased, you heard a name you hadn’t heard in a while.

The Punisher.

Frank Castle. The man who once saved your life. The man who seemed to care so deeply about you. A long lost friend. You lost communication with him a few months ago. It was nothing new, Frank traveled a lot, he never truly stayed at one place for too long. You didn’t know he was back, as he hadn’t told you. He’d always find a way to contact you, to let you know he was alive and well. Most of the times, he simply got you flowers. He knew how much you liked them. So he wanted to be associated with something you liked so much.

You soon found yourself at his front door. Terrified he wouldn’t be home. After composing yourself, or at least trying to, you knocked twice on his door. You bit your lip, looking down anxiously.

Please be home, Frank. Please.

After a few minutes of silence, that sense of hope inside of you started to die down. He wasn’t home. Of course he wasn’t home. You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. Again, how fucking naive. You wiped your teary, swollen eyes, and turned around on your heels, starting to walk away from his door. You began thinking of where you could spend the night. If anything, you could wait under they all leave the office, and you could sleep there.

“Y/N?” You heard a deep, raspy voice call out behind you, interrupting your thoughts. You could have sworn your heart stopped. You turned around slowly, finding Frank.

“You’re home…” You managed to whisper, earning a cautious nod from Frank.

“Everything okay, doll? What’s goin’ on?” Frank asked, his eyes scanning you, looking for any injuries on you. His expression softening at the sight of a broken you.

You opened your mouth to speak, yet nothing came out. You faked a smile, wiping your eyes once again. Frank’s heart tightened. He slowly began making his way to you. Your smile soon turned into a frown, small sobs leaving your lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. Loud, and sore wails filling the hall you both were standing on.

Frank didn’t say a word either, he only embraced you into a tight hug. His strong arms stroking your back lovingly, as he held you together, knowing that if he let go, you’d fall apart right in front of him. Once he noticed your cries had calmed down, he finally spoke up.

“Let’s change you out of these wet clothes.” He spoke lightly, guiding you into his apartment. He closed the door behind him, leading you into the bathroom. He brought some of his clothes for you, and a towel.

“Take a warm bath, and then we’ll talk if you want to, alright?” Frank said, before offering you a small, pitiful grin, and closing the door. You took off the damped clothes and jumped into the shower, instantly relaxing as soon as the hot water touched your cold skin.

Frank could hear your whimpers and cries from his living room, where he impatiently waited for you. He had never seen you like this. His heart felt heavy while looking into your blood red, swollen eyes, your quivering lips and broken expression. He sighed harshly, remembering how cold you felt when he held you into his arms, how much you were shaking. He quickly stood up, gathering warm blankets for you. He also prepared warm chocolate for you, your favorite kind, in hopes of lifting your spirits, even if it’s just a little.

He must have gotten too caught up in trying to make you feel comfortable, that he didn’t notice you. You stood by the counter of his kitchen, wearing one of his t-shirts and long pants, which were most definitely a little big on you. He smiled just a bit, once he locked eyes with you. You returned the kind smile, watching him as he poured the hot chocolate into a cup for you.

Soon, your eyes drifted to a flower arrangement, carefully sitting by the end of the counter you were leaning on. You sighed quietly, in relief.

“Those are yours, sweetheart. Was gonna have them delivered to you tomorrow, or somethin’.” Frank said, handing the cup to you. You smiled, genuinely this time. Of course he was going to. How dare you doubt him? He cares about you. Truthfully. You brought the cup to your lips, softly blowing it, before drinking from it.

“See, I just didn’t know where to send ‘em to.” Frank continued, looking at the flowers he got for you. Tulips. “Didn’t know you moved in with Matt.” He said. You sighed at the mention of his name, a frown appearing once again.

“Yeah, well. Definitely don’t send them there.” You replied, so soft it was almost a whisper. Frank nodded, not wanting to push you. He didn’t want to pressure you into telling him anything.

“Are you alright, doll? Talk to me.” Frank said, as softly and tenderly as possible. You sighed shakily, recalling what you heard. Frank bit the insides of his mouth. “Let’s go sit, okay?” He offered, a hand lightly on your waist, leading you to his living room. Frank sat across from you, giving you all the space you needed. You looked down at the cup in your hands, trying to find the right words.

“It’s Matt, he—”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No! Of course not— I mean, yeah? Kind of?” You replied, placing the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, before your hands ran to caress your temples in frustration.

“I’m sorry.” Frank said after taking a deep breath. “Didn’t meant to interrupt ya.” He finished, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart almost melted. Frank has always been this kind, this attentive.

“It’s fine, Frank. It’s just—” You continued, running a hand through your damped hair, trying to find the best way to explain your situation. “I don’t even know how to explain it, he just— he just doesn’t love me.”

“What?” Frank asked, truly baffled at your words. Because how can anybody not adore you?

“I heard him speaking to Karen. And he told her I was nothing compared to her, and that he only wanted her.” You continued, your voice breaking. “He doesn’t love me, Frank. Simply because I’m not her.” You finished, your head dropped in embarrassment and hurt. You held back your wails, yet there was not point in stopping the tears that now ran down your face. You heard Frank sigh.

After a few minutes of nothing but your silent cries, Frank had now moved to sit next to you, an arm wrapped around you, as you cried into his chest. His fingers traced circles on your skin, attempting to comfort you as much as he possibly could. A few more minutes passed, yet Frank hadn’t said a word.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” You finally spoke up, your voice sore and tired from all the crying. Frank shrugged his shoulders, looking down at you.

“Just can’t understand how anyone would want anybody else but you.” Frank said, his eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. He was dumbfounded. “You’re it for me, sweetheart.” Frank continued, his face showing utter bewilderment.

“Didn’t know Red could be so goddamn stupid.” Frank said, looking down to stare into your eyes. Your eyes glassy and overflowing with tears. He sighed, his rough fingers wiping away the small teardrops on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry I can’t comfort ‘ya any better, I’m just bamboozled.” Frank confessed, making a small giggle leave your mouth. He offered you a small grin.

“Don’t you dare doubt yourself ‘cause of him. You know your worth and how fucking amazing you are— he’s missing out on you, pretty girl.” Frank continued, his rough hand felt warm and even soft against your skin. You bit your lip, killer butterflies filling your stomach while you heard Frank speak so softly and lovingly to you.

“I just don’t understand— if it were me, I would’ve put a ring on your finger ages ago. Fuck, I would’ve made you a mom by now.” Frank rambled on, your eyes softly widening at his sudden confession. Frank seemed to realized what he said, since he quickly looked into your eyes in panic.

“I mean— I would’ve never exchanged you for anyone or anything. I’m telling ‘ya, you’re it for me.” Frank finished, his hand leaving your cheek. You frowned at the loss of his warmth.

“You should be exhausted, go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk more in the morning.” Frank said softly, before planting a tender kiss to your forehead. You nodded, mostly speechless by what just happened. You made your way to then vacant room Frank had offered you, looking back once in a while, locking eyes with Frank. You smiled timidly, before walking into the room, and closing the door behind you.

“‘I would’ve made you a mom.’ ‘The fuck were you thinking?” Frank cursed under his breath, cleaning up his living room. His eyes going going over to the room you were sleeping at, wondering if you needed anything, and most importantly, if you were okay.

Inside, a smile had formed in your lips, remembering the words Frank had said to you. You couldn’t help the obvious attraction and love you felt towards him, from the very first day you met him. Matt hated Frank, probably because of how fondly you spoke of him and how excited you used to get when a bucket of flowers would get delivered to you. You used to reassure Matt to not worry about Frank, that you two were just friends.

But were you?

[400badrequest]

a bit presumptious | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Mr Murdock is a good boss - it's not his fault that you day dream about him fucking you.

WORD COUNT: 4.6K

cw: enthusiastic cunnilingus, gratuitous smut, office sex, age difference

A/N: ik i spelt the title wrong this is a cross post from AO3 here

Interning for Nelson and Murdock was supposed to be good. Well, it was, but it was exhausting. While it was definitely better than the other less ethical options there was always so much to do. Your desk was constantly buried in paperwork no matter how late you stayed, things to be sorted, filed, signed by Mr Murdock (“Please. I know I’m older than you, but Matt is fine.”) or Mr Foggy (“Better than being called Mr Nelson!”). You were beginning to understand why Karen said fuck it and decided to pursue a journalistic career. It didn’t help that the heating was always broken and that even with your scarf and stockings you were still freezing your nips off. 

“Mr Foggy left some files on your desk before he left for his date,” You tell Matt when he arrives from the cold outside, watching as he tugged off his bulky coat. “Said that Detective Sergeant Mahoney wanted a second opinion on them.”

The wind had left his soft hair tousled, and he huffs a little as he runs his fingers through it in an attempt to fix it - you bite back a laugh as he somehow manages to make it worse. “Thank you,” Matt says softly, a gentle smile on his lips. “I can’t believe Foggy and Marcy’ve been together for two years now.”

You can’t help but watch as he takes his glasses off to wipe the rain off them, immediately locking onto his soft, unfocused eyes. He rarely took them off around you and tended to slip them back on when you entered a room. Foggy had explained once that he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the empty vacant look that they always had, glazed as he looked slightly past you - and you’d never really quite known how to tell him you didn’t mind.

“They’re cute,” you offer as he walks past you to his office. “Mr Foggy said something about um- Danny being an angel? They’re going to the Met for dinner.”

“ Danny?” Matt says from the doorway of his office. “That’s one hell of an anniversary date.” There’s a fond chuckle in his voice as he turns around. “Ow.”

“You okay?” You stand up quickly, heels clicking as you dash to his office. He waves you off, hand resting on the edge of the corner of his table, fingers rubbing at the corner. Your breath stutters as you can’t help but watch as his index and middle finger part over it, circling slowly.

“Bumped the desk,” he admits. 

“Oh uh- that’s my fault,” you say, embarrassment colouring your voice. “I ran into it when I put the paperwork on your desk - I completely forgot to move it back, I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” he chuckles softly, shifting the table back. “Accidents happen.”

You can’t help but hover awkwardly in the doorway as he sits at his desk. The only light filtering into the room is from the dandelion yellow street lamp outside, peeking through the slats of the open shades. Shadowy impressions of rain trace their way down Matt’s face, tinted glasses almost black. Your eyes trail down with a droplet that slips down the window, following as its dark echo dancing down his throat and shirt, until it disappears into the shadow hidden behind his desk. He hums, fingers tracing the braille of the file. 

“Do you want coffee?” You blurt. “I- yeah. I need coffee. I’ll get you some-”

You turn on your heel and beeline for the tea station that Karen had set up ages ago. Matt’s chuckle follows you while you click on a new pot of coffee.

It made you feel like a perv - tracing your eyes across him when he’s across the room, watching his hands flex when he held his coffee cups, staring at his scruff when he smirked. Foggy sometimes stifled laughter at your rising flush whenever Matt pressed his hand to your lower back to move you out of the way, or to figure out his way around an unknown space. It was even worse when it felt like Matt had caught you, head sometimes tilting in your direction when you looked. You knew he couldn’t see you, but still. 

You sigh as you slump against the counter, fighting the want to bury your head in your hands and scream. The crush you were fostering on your boss was just a crush (at least that’s what you told yourself). It stemmed from admiration - Matt was so terrifying and silver tongued in court, but kind and soft spoken to clients. And it didn’t help that he liked to act like he cared about you sometimes; making sure you were sleeping, eating, draping his coat on you when it got too cold, tsking softly and exasperatedly when you prioritised studies over basic needs.

It wasn’t helpful either that you’d seen the types of women he went for - slim, willowy and assertive. You… you weren’t that. You didn’t have the genetic gifts of mile long thin legs and a godly metabolism. Your tummy pressed up against your pants whenever you tucked your button downs in, and the insides of your thighs rubbed together when you walked. Marcy said it made you a real woman, not some waif - but that didn’t stop you from believing that despite his lack of sight, Mr Murdock would somehow know.

Giving in, you groan into your elbow as the pot dings, giving yourself a single minute. Then, you straighten your blouse, pour two cups - both with milk, one with sugar - and walk back to Matt’s office. 

“Coffee,” you say, putting it on his desk, careful not to place it on any paper. “6 o’clock, 7 and a little bit inches.”

Matt hums as he grabs it smoothly. “You’ve gotten better at that,” he praises and you flush as you lean in the doorway, trying to ignore how hot the coffee is as it burns down your throat. 

“I’m trying,” You reply, a grin in your voice. “Helps that you’re easy on the eyes.”

“What?” Matt startles with a laugh, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Uh-” you stumble over your words. “I mean- like- as in y'know- um-” A small grin starts to curve at Matt’s mouth. “I watch you.”

“You watch me.” He rises at that, hands braced on the table. It’s starting to spread into a proper smirk.

“Wait, no, not like that.” You say, affronted. “As in like- uh- watching how you do things, how you move so I can make it easier.”

“Mm, really.” There’s a chuckle weaved in his words. “ That’s what you mean by ‘easy on the eyes’?”

“Yes,” you squeak, lie tumbling out. “Absolutely.” You can feel your palms start to sweat, and it is not from the heat of the cup in your hands. Somehow, Matt has managed to get around the table, now leaning on it with his ankles crossed, hand braced behind him. You can’t stop your eyes tracing from his dress shoes, up to his belt and hovering there before your gaze crawls to his face. Matt’s head is cocked slightly to the side, as if listening to something. 

“So the way you’re undressing me with your eyes has nothing to do with you finding me attractive?” 

“Jesus Christ, how did you-?”

“I’m blind, not stupid,” Matt says with a smirk, and you can’t help but swallow thickly at how the shadows cut across his front, biceps tight in his dress shirt. 

“Never said you were,” you reply weakly. 

“Vision isn't the only sense that humans have, you know." He says wryly.

“I know that!”

"Do you?” His voice is teasing as he steps forward. “From the sound of your voice, the way you walk, how you always swallow when I touch you - I don’t need sight to know what you like.” You can’t stop the shiver that runs up your spine as he takes the cup from your hand, placing it on a filing shelf. “I can feel the heat coming from your body, the way it radiates off you."

Your head bonks against the door frame as you groan, face colouring with fluster and embarrassment. “Shush. Shut up, sir.” You grumble, doing your best to not look at him. 

His voice is tinged with amusement as he talks. "What's the matter?”

“C’mon sir,” You whine a little. “You’re being unfair.”

"I never knew I could cause you to have a crisis by just speaking." Matt murmurs. You can smell his laundry powder - it’s faintly floral. For a moment you’re glad he’s blind, knowing he can’t tell you’re staring at the soft curve of his bottom lip. 

"I- fucking- I’m going home,” You rush out. "I can't do this. I can't do feelings, feelings for my boss " You moan, face hot with what feels like shame. Maybe it’s arousal. 

“Wait." Matt murmured, the tone of his voice taking on a more serious edge. A small frown pulled at his lips. "You don't have to go. We can just ignore this entire conversation - forget it even happened." His voice is genuine, gentle and concerned. “Please.”

You swallow thickly, having to tilt your head up to look up at him, door frame digging into your spine. 

When you don’t speak or move, a smile lifts the corner of his mouth. His step forward is quiet, and even with your back already against the frame, you can’t help but push into it a little more. “What do you want?” He murmurs softly, gently cupping your hands with his. The calluses of his palms are rough against your smooth knuckles, the contrast jarring. 

“I- I don’t-” You stutter, voice caught in your throat. What the fuck was happening?

His thumb lightly brushed against the palm of your hand, gentle and comforting as he felt across your love line. 

Matt took another step closer, so close you could nearly feel his breath on your cheek, his firm chest gently pressing against the swell of your breasts. 

"What do you want?" He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You let out a small whimper, looking up at the scruff on his jaw, the aged lines on his face, the greys starting to grow at his temples. Matt- Mr Murdock was much older, more experienced. There was the faint sparkle of greys in the stubble around his mouth too. 

Without a word, he reached up and gently cupped your soft jaw in his hand. The pad of his thumb gently stroked across your cheek, and you did your best to breathe as he tilted your face up to meet his unseeing gaze behind his glasses. A flush had warmed your face - he could feel the vestiges of innocence in the curve of your face. 

You could tell that even through the darkened shades he was doing his best to focus all of himself on you. Your heartbeat thumped hard in your throat - hard enough that he could feel it on the fingers curled gently around your jaw. 

He leaned in slightly, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Just tell me what you want," he whispered again, his voice low and husky, a tinge of pleading in his tone.

"Please," You whisper, tilting your face up. " Please."

"Please, what?" He tilted his head to the side. He was so close, his lips almost brushing against yours. He could smell the sweat and desire on you, you were sure of it. "Tell me what you want," he said again, his voice almost guttural. Your eyes flutter shut on instinct - from need or shyness, you don’t know. Your free hand twists into the doorframe. 

You know he can’t see you. But at that he groans and holds you still as he presses a firm full kiss on your waiting mouth. It’s slow and gentle, and for a moment he just holds you there - until you groan just the tiniest bit.

It’s like a switch flips - he drops your other hand, gripping at your plush hip and presses you hard into the jamb, squishing your soft tits and the swell of your tummy into the muscled planes of his body. The hand that was once gentle on your face snakes up into your hair, tugging until it’s out and then tangling his fingers firmly at the base so he can manipulate your head so he can deepen the kiss into something wet and filthy. 

You gasp, pulling him in closer with the front of his shirt, scrambling for purchase as you twist your hands in the fabric. As your mouth opens, Matt licks in - he tastes like sweet coffee and spit and sin. A whimper leaves you, unbidden, as he continues to paw at your soft hips, body lighting up from the inside. You know your underwear is ruined as it sticks to your cunt, already dripping from the feeling of him on you. 

He made a groan of his own, the sound escaping low and deep in his throat. His face is flushed, eyes lidded as he pulls away, still holding you in place.

"Oh fuck-" You whine as he pull away, you bosom heaving against his solid chest. "What the fuck, come back-"

Matt wets his swollen lip, his breath heavy. You know that you probably look the same - if not worse. He leaned down and brushed his lips over the soft exposed skin of your neck, leaving soft, feather-like kisses as he used his grip in your hair to gently guide your head to the side. "So impatient," he teases.

At that you moan reedily. “Oh- Matt-”

His grip on your hip tightened, pulling you firmly against him. You squeak as your breasts squish into him, pelvis to pelvis - you can feel him thickening in his pants, a flush climbing your cheeks.

Matt’s lips rove lazily over your skin. He could feel your pulse flutter against his lips, racing harder and faster. You could feel his sharklike grin as he hummed softly against your skin. "Be patient," he chided, biting gently at your throat.

A strangled groan rips from you as you feel him slide the hand on your hip to your chest, gently palming your full tits. “Okay?” He murmurs quietly. You don’t have the brain to be embarrassed about the pudge of your tummy being smushed.

“ Yes,” you whine. “Yes, just- please, Matthew.”

That’s all it takes for him to break - his mouth is back on you, fierce and possessive. “Again. Say it again,” He demands between kisses. You hear a clatter - he’s ripped off his glasses, throwing them carelessly behind him.  

“Matthew,” you breathe out as you slide a hand so it's pressed against his firm abdomen, heel against your abs, fingers ghosting his belt buckle. Matt growls at that, dragging you to his desk roughly - papers and pens alike hit the floor. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He grinds out as he tugs open your pants. "Any?” “Matt-!” You squeak as he rips your blouse open, buttons flinging across the room. Your soft breasts sit heavy in your utilitarian bra, and he tuts when he feels it. His fingers are adept and nimble as they quickly unhook the back, wrenching it off - it skitters when it hits the wood floor. 

“ Fuck-” he bites out as he palms the dove soft, squishy flesh of your tits, roughly palming at your nipples. A small shriek pops out of your mouth when he twists a perk nipple, standing proud in the cold. In turn you start to fumble with his belt but he gently smacks your hand away, dropping to his knees.

“Matthew?” You ask confused - but he shoves his way forward, lifting one of your legs so it's hooked over his shoulder. Embarrassment floods your face when he mashes his face directly up against your clothed cunt.

“Matt!” you can help but protest, as he groans and you yelp as you feel him grab at the zip and rip your fucking pants so that your drenched panties are on display. “ Fuck,” He snarls, hands on your soft thighs, fingering at your stretch marks, kneading at them. “I can smell you from here.” Matt sounds enamoured, and he whines as he presses his nose to your soaked cunt, lapping at the cloth. 

“Oh my guh-” You can’t get the full word out - he shoves your panties to the side, latching onto your clit with his mouth and sucking. Your brain shorts out for a moment, all forms of conscious thought disappearing. His moans are almost as loud as yours when he finally unlatches to smack the flat of his tongue against your wet messy slit. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Matt whines, throaty and wrecked. Your heart stops for a moment when you look at him, where he’s cradled in your thighs - for the first time, you can see the proper softness in his unseeing gaze, the longing crease between his eyebrows. “Can I-”

“Yes, yes,” You rush out, nodding frantically. “ Please, Matthew.”

Normally, Matt was incredibly pedantic about making sure his partners knew what they were agreeing too - but you. You . You made him toss common sense on the window. He groans and shoves his face back into your slick cunt, ignoring your yelp when your legs are stretched open further to accommodate his broad shoulders. He stands so he can shove harder into your wetness, cheeks smearing your arousal everywhere. Spit and slick dribbles down your taint and arse and over Matt’s stubble - but he can’t find himself to care as he laps at you, trying to eat his fill. The rasp of his five o’clock shadow against your hole is sickeningly delicious. The smell of your arousal was so heady and intoxicating that he couldn’t even find it in him to be embarrassed at how desperate he was acting.

He can’t help but groan, realising you can barely see him over the chub of your mons and plush tummy. Your body is so delightfully soft and Matt can’t resist the urge to grab and paw at your soft pudge - your stomach, your padded hips, your thighs. The way your heart ticks faster when he starts grabbing at you only urges him on more. One of his hands drifts back to your swollen clit, still sensitive and puffy from being sucked on - your hand grabbing firmly at his hair when he starts deftly rubbing tight circles as it. The pulling and yowling seems to encourage him of anything, licking more firmly. 

The press of his fingers, the fingers you’d spent hours daydreaming about, finally press into your sloppy hole as he switches his mouth back to your clit. “Are you even breathing?” You can’t help but ask - the rumble of his laugh tells you he’s probably not doing it enough. “Oh fu-” Your back bows as he rubs methodically against the spongy bit at the roof of your cunt, stupid noises babbling out of you when you grip at his hair. “Ma- Matt, Matthew, oh God, oh o -”

His fingers stop moving as much, just pressing hard as your cunt starts to seize, your body curling tightly as your muscles tighten immensely at the precipice of your orgasm. Your clit twitches as the nerves under the skin continue to be abused by Matt’s mouth that was firmly suctioned to flesh directly under your soft mons. His nose was pressed into the flesh, squished happily into you. A hiccuped noise of pleasure rips out of you, reedy and desperate. “I- Plea-”

He doesn’t stop when you cum - he pulls his fingers out of you, yes, but he immediately starts lapping at your now puffy and leaky cunt like a dog, as if desperate to make sure he eats all of your dripping slick and cum. You shriek a little as he shifts you, licking at your taint to clean up all of it. “Mat- that- oh my god-”

“ Fuck , you’re such a good fucking girl,” Matt says, desperately out of breath. Your slick and his spit shines on the lower half of his face, and he doesn’t even attempt to wipe it off before standing and dropping his weight onto you to grab your face, kissing you wetly. You can taste your own thick arousal in his mouth, and can’t help but squeal when the seat of his pants bumps up against your sensitive sex.

“T-thank you-” You hiccup out between the press of his open mouth to yours. “I- please lemme-”

“Yeah sweetheart, hold on-” Matt rushes out as he tugs open his pants, groaning when his engorged cock slaps out against his stomach. It’s as large and as thick as the rest of him, nestled in a thatch of curls. Precum drops onto his shirt, and you can’t help but reach up and deftly unbutton it. Matt huffs a laugh at your gentleness - he’d all but ruined your blouse. Your eyes widen - you knew he was built and had some… rough history, but nothing prepares you for how the yellow street light dips and fills the curves of his trim muscles, the starkness of the thin gnarly scars that sit slashed across his full chest. 

“Jesus, Matt,” you exhale, fingers gently tracing them. His expression softens as he hears the concern taint your arousal. 

“I’m okay,” He murmurs, pressing his forehead to the roundness of your shoulder. His hands are gentle as he pulls you away from running your own over the scars - not to stop you, but to comfort. “It was a long time ago.”

You know there’s nothing you can say here - so you let him guide your face up so he can kiss you silly again, the head of his cock nudging at your cunt. Matt takes it slow, gently laying you out on the table so he can grip at your hips, revelling at the feeling of his fingers sinking into the soft padding. 

“You’re so soft,” He can’t help but murmur, kneading at your hips like a cat. The raised smoothness of your stretch marks feel like a soft pulled silk against Matt’s fingertips. “Feel so pretty…”

“Matthew,” you whine, face pinking. “That’s- you’re my boss, you can’t say that!”

Matt laughs at that - a little disbelieving. “Sweetheart, I just ate you out until you came on my face, and I’m about to fuck you raw. I think I’m allowed to appreciate how beautiful you feel under my hands.”

“Fair enough,” you gasp out as he rubs the fat head of his cock up and down your slit. Matt groans, eyes shut tight with his free hand kneading your plump hip. The heady heat of your dampened cunt makes his senses blur at the edges, the world narrowing down to the throb of your pussy. 

“Tell me I can fuck you,” Matt says, desperately, voice rough. “Sweetheart, please-”

“Yes, fucking damn it, Matthe- ah-”

Your breath catches as he notches the head of his cock into your cunt. It’s thick and hot, burning you from the inside out. “You can take it baby,” He grinds out, teeth clenched as he slowly slides all the way in. “There- there you go, good girl-”

You can’t help but gasp wetly as he bottoms out, eyes slamming shut as he gently starts rolling his hips. His heavy sac kisses against your taint and furled arsehole with each careful thrust as Matt carves a space in your cunt, slowly driving himself in harder and harder , until the table starts to shake with the force of it, your little ah, ah, ah ’s turning into gasped wails, as he whines into your shoulder. “Matthew-” you sob out as he grips tightly at your love handles so he can drag you onto his fat cock in time with his heavy thrusts. “Oh fuck- fuck-”

“So good,” Matt praises, strained as he pounds into you, hips snapping. He’d lowered himself onto you, his firmness pressing against your soft plush front. “Feel so good-” his tendons strain under your hands as you try to ground yourself by gripping at his wrist, spinning embarrassingly fast towards your orgasm. 

“It’s alright, c’mon,” Matt pants out - he noses under your ear. “Cum for me, please- cum for me sweetheart-”

The noise you let out is high and animal, desperate - your stomach tenses awfully and hard, legs shaking as your orgasm rips through you. Matt’s arms tighten around you as he murmurs softly in your ear, hips still rolling gently. “That’s it, that’s it-” His voice is strained and raspy. 

A wet sob gutters you. “Matthew, Matthew-”

Matt groans into your neck - you feel it when he cums, your throbbing cunt ripping the seed out of him. He chokes out a curse, his weight dropping down onto you, sweaty and pressing wet kisses onto your throat. “Good girl, you’re such a good girl.”

It’s like lying in a dense fog when Matt pulls out of you with a wet schlop. “Oh fuck,” You mumble, blinking hazily. Matt chuckles.

“Good?” He asks softly, free hand coming up to cup at your cheek, thumb running softly under your eye. You whimper a little - you can feel the slick and cum dripping out of your puffy wet cunt, pooling onto the table. Matt chuckles. “That good, huh?”

Before you can reply, Matt hums, slowly ducking his head back between your legs. “Matt-” He shushes you softly. “Let me clean up the mess, baby.”

His tongue is gentle as he laps at the mess between your thighs. Matt can’t help but groan at the smell, the bitter salty and heady taste. He’d missed this - being able to indulge in a sweet used cunt, a woman sobbing in pleasure above him. With work and his growing affection for you, he’d lost the want for casual sex. Father Lantom would’ve been proud. Matt locks his lips to your hole and sucks, swallowing down the mix of your cum and his. When your whines turn from pleasured to overstimulated, pained, Matt pulls away, with a final soft kiss to your puffy clit. Then a soft press of his lips to your thigh, and your hip. 

Matt looks like a damn vision when he looks at you - face flushed, hair sticking up in every direction. His smile is soft and heavenly as he gently eases you back into your pants, “Ah- sorry about your shirt, sweetheart,” He says sheepishly.

You can’t help but laugh a little. “You’re impossible,” You murmur, reaching forward and helping him button up his shirt - you’re still out of breath, and Matt’s skin is hot to the touch when you wipe the sweat off his brow. When he leans slightly into your touch, your heart stutters in your chest. Matt cocks his head a little, a small smile ticking at his lips, as if he can hear it. 

He hums, pressing a small kiss to your cheek - then your lips. “Hello,” Matt murmurs - his expression is soft, the street light seeping across his face like water colour paint on a wet page. 

“Hi,” You whisper, almost shy. Oh God, you’d just slept with your boss - your boss who was gently kissing your face as he dressed you. His hands are gentle on you, despite the rough pads of his fingers - like the rasp of sandpaper on silk. Matt chuckles. 

It had started to drizzle outside - the faint sounds of sleet hitting the roof soft and cold as a faint breeze sneaks in through the gaps in the windows. Matt doesn’t say anything - just grabbing his coat off the back of his chair and gently pulling the heavy material onto your shoulders as he tugs you into his lap. 

“Would it be presumptuous for me to take you out for dinner now?” Matt asks after a moment. A laugh startles out of you.

“Pretty presumptuous, yeah. But… I’d like that.”