OH-NINE

  • person: one, two, three, four, five, six
  • friend: oh no stop–
  • person: seven, eight, nine
  • friend: oh gdi
  • person: ten
  • me: DID SOMEONE HERE SAY TEN. tEN AS IN CHITTAPHON LEECHAIYAPORNKUL. TEN AS IN BORN ON FEBRUARY 27TH 1996. tEN AS THE GUY THATS 171 CM TALL. TEN AS IN THE GUY WITH BLOODTYPE A. U MEAN TEN THAT LIKES CHOCOLATE CAKE.
Caught White Handed- (Matt Murdock X Reader Smut)

Words: 3,300

Summary: Reader is more ready to go than a dog in heat. She pleasures herself but after getting drunk, things go to a whole new level.

Warnings: THIS IS PURE FILTH. Masturbation, oral, sex, alcohol, erotica, many mentions of horniness.

Author’s Note: Writing this has been a spiritual journey. This is pure sin, and I have gone last the need for holy water. I’d appreciate if some of you guys asked for fluff now. Anyways, enjoy!


You sighed as you sat there in your chair, swiveling. Never did you think you’d see the day in Hell’s Kitchen that there’d be no pictures to take, no crime scenes to manage, but it did.

You worked at the police station in town and it was your job to take pictures of the crime scenes. Seeing blood and violence twelve hours a day usually was all you did before you went home and passed out in bed.

Only, that day there was nothing to look at. You were surprised with how long you had withstood the boredom, ten and a half hours. Just half an hour and a half more until you got off. So while spinning in your chair, you decided to make a phone call. You hummed the numbers to yourself and typed them on your phone. It rung and rung until you heard that all so familiar voice. “It’s Foggy Nelson of Nelson and Murdock, I can’t get to the phone right now, leave a message.” Beep.

You sighed, “Hey Fogs, I was wondering if you’d want to meet up at Josie’s tonight with the others. If you’re coming, don’t even bother to call back. See you soon.”

You dialed another number but only got the same result. “It’s Karen Page, I’m probably at work right now but leave a message after the beep.” Beep.

“Hey Karen, my gal pal, I was wondering if you wanna meet up at Josie’s tonight. If I don’t hear back from you, I’m gonna suppose you’ll be there. See ya.”

With a groan, you called up the phone of the third of the Musketeers. It wouldn’t stop ringing so you were pulling your phone away from your ear, ready to hang up until you heard, “hello?”

You threw the phone back up towards your ear and smiled. “Hey Matt, I wasn’t expecting you to pick up. Karen nor Fogs did.”

He chuckled. “They’re probably hanging out again, we got off early today. How about you?”

Matt could hear you groan over the phone and he did his best to hold back a chuckle as you answered. “I’m in hell and my throne is a spinning computer chair. That’s why I was seeing if you guys would wanna go to Josie’s later, a drink sounds nice.”

“Sure, what time? Nine?”

You nodded by reflex but then realized Matt couldn’t see you then (not like he could if you were in person either). “Oh, um, yeah. Nine is good.”

Suddenly you heard him burst out into a small fit of laughter. “You nodded, didn’t you?”

You felt your cheeks grow red from the accusation. “No! How dare you insinuate such a thing?” You paused a second before pausing, giving a weak giggle, “okay fine, I did.”

You heard him laugh one more time before he said bye. Once again the office was quiet. Only an hour and fifteen more minutes you told yourself. What could you do to pass the time? Your eyes flickered to the small thing in your purse. Reading to pass the time sounded nice. Yet, the kind of book it was made you worry. Reading an erotica in the office probably wasn’t the best idea.

You spun in your chair again, until you felt like you’d fall over even while sitting down, and growled, “screw it.”

Seconds later the book was snatched up from your purse and opened to the nearest page. And with hungry eyes, and ovaries , you read on.

“There he was in the doorway, standing there as he watched her pleasure herself. She was facing away, moonlight casting a glow on her skin, a thin sheet of sweat covering her body. He could see her arm twitching, he could hear the sound of her fingers plunging in and out of her soaking wet core.

"Most of all he could hear those wonderful sounds of ecstasy coming from her lips. He tried to remember back to what lipstick she wore that day, a lovely wine color, he remembered.”

You didn’t know when exactly it had happened, but you found your hand on your thigh, your legs apart, and yourself heaving. It had been a long time since you had been in the bedroom, and every day you were getting more desperate. More desperate for a certain guy at that.

Whenever you read the book in your shaking hand, you imagined him. The guy you wanted to get into your pants. His puppy dog eyes, even though they were usually covered by glasses, those full, pink lips, his nicely combed hair that you just wanted to run your fingers through, the short stubble across his face, those large, rough hands, all of them just turned you to putty.

You sighed as you continued to read the book.

“He watched on and noticed the light shake of her legs. She’s close, he told himself. He wanted to wait until she was done, just strip for her then and there, but instead he silently shut the door behind him before letting his pants and boxers drop to the floor. He sat there, his thumb rubbing over his tip as he silenced a moan. He could feel the warm of precum on his fingers as he began to stop teasing the tip, but to instead begin to drag his hand up and down along his shaft.

"The girl on the bed was climaxing yet her hand wouldn’t stop. ‘Oh God!’ Yet she still continued, her core aching as it released but she still wouldn’t stop. It felt too good to stop.

"Then her limbs fell back tirelessly on the bed as a warmth leaked out of her, and she knew that she would stain the sheets.”

You were breathless as your hand was no longer outside of your pants but in them. You had locked your office door and the room was soundproof but you still tried to stay as quiet as possible.

Your middle finger was feeling around, just trying to find the perfect spot for your clit. Once you had hit it, you gave one of the most pornographic noises possible and began to massage it, making the pleasure last, but it wasn’t enough. Suddenly your fingers began to go harder, faster, until finally it was getting hard to keep your hand there. You could feel as you throbbed from releasing, but you didn’t want it to end either.

So you continued. You kept that fast pace, resisting the urge to yell or moan or groan or do anything as you released twice more. You slumped in your chair, feeling your panties filled, and gave a sigh. You sat there and looked over to your phone on the desk. Only a matter of fifteen minutes had passed. You still had another hour.

So, for an hour you read. For an hour your legs shook with every new climax. For an hour, your hand hurt, wanting to stop, but your wet core didn’t.

You were out the door and into your car soon as it struck seven. Your impure hand gripped around the tire, the fake leather putting ideas into your head that you’d never admit.

You began to drive, every bump or harsh turn led to feeling the juices of your climaxes slosh against you. I really need a shower, you thought.

You found yourself at your apartment, one of the safer areas in Hell’s Kitchen, although to be frank, no area there was really safe.

You had an hour and fifteen minutes to be ready and meet up at Josie’s. You could take your time in the shower, but even then half an hour wouldn’t pass. You debated, you could take a normal shower, or do a bit more. It was a hard choice. You were already aching a bit from earlier but hot water would help the soreness you told yourself.

So, you found yourself twisting two old handles until short bursts of water pellets released. You stood there, completely nude with cum running down your leg as you waited for the water to run consistently and for it to warm up.

You gave a sigh of pure relaxation as you stepped into the shower. You could already feel yourself being cleansed, but not well enough. You slowly, yet gently, pulled the shower head off the wall and spread your legs. You let the hot water hit you, hit your clit and your folds.

“Oh God,” you mewled. It was surely cleaning you out, but maybe doing a little more than that. Suddenly, your hand could itself slick in your juices, two fingers pumping in and out as you began to focus the water onto your clit.

It only took moments before your legs were shaking as another orgasm, the most powerful one yet, had racked your body and left it feeling like a hand was wrapped around your throat. You immediately took your hand out of yourself and lathered a bath ball up with soap. You needed to stop it. Making yourself climax only caused a short lived satisfaction while if it were from someone you actually wanted to have sex with, well, that would manage to keep you satisfied.

So, you decided to take a legitimate shower. Thirty minutes had passed by the time you got out. You had thirty-five minutes to get ready then to walk to Josie’s. So, in just a towel, you had managed to get a brush through your hair, blow drying it too. Did light makeup of a little mascara and lipstick before getting to choose an outfit. Red felt like your color that night.

So, a red top, skinny jeans, a black leather jacket, and a pair of red pumps to match. So that was another half an hour later.

Five more minutes. You made sure you had your house keys, purse, your erotica not in the purse, and you were ready to leave.

When the New York street greeted you, it wasn’t as cold as you had expected. Street lights were on, as were the lights of oncoming and going traffic. That late at night, the neighborhood streets weren’t as crowded as usual.

You brushed by people here, people there, but the streets were nearly silent. Or as silent as the city could be. You were almost there when you saw someone behind you, a taller figure who seemed broad enough to be a threat.

So, you reached into your pocket, ready to call 911 if needed, and turned around. Just as you were about to say something, you realized who it was. “Matt?”

He paused, a look of confusion evident with the way his mouth was. “Y/N?”

You stepped back towards him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It’s me. I didn’t know you were behind me.”

He chuckled, “I didn’t know you were in front of me.” You both laughed for a moment before he added, “may I hold your arm? I know the way but I’d feel better with someone leading me.”

You nodded and wrapped your hand around his arm, feeling the muscle even through the suit. You mentally jet repeating to yourself to not think of the book.

Meanwhile, Matt was trying to figure out the air around him. The air was a mix of smells, too many for him to say. Gas, smoke, whiskey, but right next to him at his arm, he could smell your body wash, your shampoo, your conditioner, your perfume, but something else. It was so covered up by the other smells, but it was still there. It also somehow felt familiar.

He decided it would be best to ignore it, but he could taste something in the air that also felt familiar. Maybe they were from the same thing. Maybe you had some gum in your purse. That would make sense.

So, you two found yourself in Josie’s, the blonde duo already sitting there.

Foggy turned around at the sound of the door and smiled. “Matt, do you have a radar for attractive women? A third of the time I see you, one is hanging onto your arm.”

“Maybe it’s God’s way of rewarding me through the hardships of blindness,” he laughed.

Your stomach turned, God damn his laugh. You didn’t understand how something so precious could be so arousing.

You lightly shook your head, getting the thought out before you and Matt sat down. The row of barstools went Karen, Fogs, Matt, and lastly, yourself.

Josie had came over and asked what everyone wanted. The trio all said beer whilst you said scotch. They looked over at you laughing. You always took your liquor much easier than those three.

Three glasses, six shots, and one beer later, you couldn’t even sit properly. You hummed happily, cheeks as flushed looking as your lipstick. Your eyes were wide, and you were leaning over the counter, flirting with the young bartender that Josie had hired roughly a week prior.

Karen had done a few shots herself, but that was with two bottles of beer. Foggy decided to take one beer, one margarita. Then Matt, he had only beer.

It was about two in the morning and everyone knew you were too drunk to go back to your place.

“Hey Fogs, mind helping me get Y/N back to my place?”

So then began the fun of walking you about five blocks over to Matt’s. They got you up to his floor and you heavily insisted you could manage to walk on your own.

They had to give it to you, even when you were drunk off your ass, you still managed to walk pretty straight, in heels at that.

Fogs patted Matt on the shoulder one time before saying bye. That’s when Matt turned around to not see your jacket and heels kicked off by the couch, which you were leaning over. “Hey Matty, can I use your shower?”

Just the sound of her gentle, yet drunken, voice had managed to cause a warmth on his face but he just nodded. He heard her walk out, still trying to figure out what the smell was.

He heard the water turn on, your clothes hitting the floor. He shook his head. Focus on something else. So, he found himself on the couch, throwing his blazer to the floor, shoes, tie, everything he needed to just simply relax. So he sat there in dress pants and a t-shirt.

He thought back. That smell was so familiar. He could almost taste it. And as the night went on, it only got stronger. There were other odd things he noticed in the night, like you biting your lip, squirming, blushing, but that was just your drunkness, he thought.

Then from the shower, he heard something.

“Oh God,” you gasped. He was about ready to run to the bathroom to see if you were alright, but another noise came after it.

You were in the shower, your fingers finding their way to pleasure. You leaned up against the shower wall, two fingers massaging your clit. You weren’t as drunk as you were when you left Josie’s but you were still drunk enough to be sitting there fingering yourself in Matt’s shower.

You found yourself slumping against the wall as your hand began to go faster. He heard the moans, he realized what the smells and tastes were, and he was fighting to keep it in his pants.

“Oh God!” He listened to your voice as it began to get more breathless. He could nearly imagine you, as your legs shook against his tile wall. He could taste your oncoming climax. God, he apologized for using that name in vain, but he wanted to really taste it.

That’s when he heard it.

“Oh Matt!’

He knew he was screwed.

It was no more than five minutes later that the water was off, and you were standing in his living room with only a towel. "Matt,” you meekly called out, “do you have a shirt I can borrow?”

He stood up, trying his best to stay away from you, based off of your breathing and voice. “Of course,” he obliged as he led you to his room. As he dug through drawers, trying to find a t-shirt to lend you, he spoke. “So, what took you so long in the shower?”

Your face turned bright as your eyes grew. Did he know? “I was just, um, thinking. Sorry, I think best in water.” You were still drunk, so coming up with an excuse wasn’t as easy as it normally would’ve been.

“I can taste the air. I could hear everything. I could hear the way you said my name.”

You stiffened. You were afraid. Afraid that the years of friendship you had built up would come crumbling down into a horny, drunken mistake. “Matt, I-”

“Everything I heard, they made me want you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. He couldn’t have meant that, could he?

“I have to admit, I’ve been tempted to ask you on a date before. Sure, I’ve had romantic thoughts, but never have I wanted you this bad. So if you’re willing to let me do things to you, drop the towel and lay down.”

Never had Matt been so commanding of you, and frankly it caused a pang in your stomach. So, your arms gently pulled the two sides of the towel away from each other, and let it fall to the floor. You found yourself laying down, your legs open.

Matt slowly rid himself of his dress pants, letting you see the bulge beneath. You held in a gasp as he crawled onto the bed, like he could see. His right hand had gripped your thigh, slowly moving upward that’s when his thumb had come across you. Had come across your clit to be exact.

You moaned immediately and then his head found itself between your legs. The first thing he did was nibble and suck on your clit.

Every little movement, every little spark of euphoria, you had mewled or moaned. It took him even less time to make you orgasm than it did when you used your fingers. And that’s when his tongue began to explore. You could feel him start to lick you clean as you were still seeing stars.

He had milked you through three orgasms from his tongue, two from biting and sucking. You were climaxing so easily, all because of him.

You were in a daze, but then he was leaning over you, pressing his lips against yours. You could feel his tongue slide into your mouth, sharing the taste of your own juices and his boxers had came off at some point.

You held your breath as he began to put himself in, making sure you felt every inch, centimeter, millimeter, everything. Your hands tightened around the sheets, feeling the cool compared to the inferno of you and Matt.

He threw his glasses to the nightstand as he began to pull back and thrust right back in, faster, harder. “Oh God,” you cried. He made you tell past the point of words as he grunted and groaned himself.

“Oh Y/N!” You felt the very moment his cock had begun to swell. Much as you began to try and close. At the same moment, in some sort of erotic symphony, you two climaxed at once, and shouted each other’s names.

That wasn’t the end of it even when you two collapsed. After moments of rest, you’d get right back up again, not wanting the pleasure to end.

You didn’t know when it happened, you didn’t even remember it when you woke up. All you knew was that you woke up in bed next to the man you had been after for nearly two years. He was already awake and smiled.

“Morning Y/N.”

You didn’t bother with courtesies. “Why the hell and how the hell did I end up with you?”

He chuckled, “thank the alcohol.”

So from that moment on, you always thanked the alcohol.

Code Yellow

A/N:  Thanks for the lovely ask! I thought this one would be easy to write, but it harder than I imagined. This time, my lovely writing friends jumped in with a ton of ideas on how to make the story realistic. Thank you, as always, my friends! ( @little-black-dress-24, @niallandharrymakemestrong, @melissas173, @emulateharry) I’m so appreciative that they let me hang out with them and that they share their honest opinions about my writing. They push me to be better every time. Go read their writing. You won’t be disappointed. 

I love my sister-in-law. Honestly, few people could have survived my Code Pink. Indeed, many had been ruthlessly eliminated from dating my brother early in the protocol. Plus, I’d been able to help Harry with his Code White when he was ready to propose to her. I’d heard all about the proposal once he decided she was The One, but honestly….she’s the best sister-in-law I could have asked for.

Whenever I’m bored or Michael is busy, I head over to my brother’s house, especially when he’s out of town on tour like he is now. My SIL and I get along as if we were born sisters. We laugh at the same things, and I love that she is always willing to listen to my stories about my cat or the latest piece I’m writing. Which is how I find myself at Harry’s house tonight. My little brother is out of tour with his second album; I think he’s somewhere in Asia tonight. Maybe Japan? Who knows? I can’t keep up with his schedule.

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