electriceell
replied to your post “so i was wondering: did staff mark your blog as explicit or did you?…”
so I can still mark my blog as explicit. also, when you look your blog up on postlimit it blurs out your icon? does it think your face is explicit? i am v confused and apparently v sfw
maybe i’m just missing the slider thing but i don’t think it’s there
and YES, a couple of my selfies were flagged, too! it’s not my fault that bots apparently find me incredibly erotic
OH FUCK
OH FUUUUCK
“You look cute when you’re being
all intellectual,” Foggy says, and Matt starts, taking off his headphones and starting
to reply when he realizes that Foggy’s voice is low and coming from the other
side of the library. “Stretch if you can hear me, okay?”
Matt smiles and stretches his
arms out, sighing out a relieved noise. He’s not sure he’s actually moved his
body in a couple of hours.
“Good,” Foggy says, softly. “I
wanted to test out your superpowers—see if you were really telling the truth about
them. Do that dumb thing you so with your hair when you’re trying to get in
someone’s pants.”
Matt’s tempted to pretend like he
doesn’t know what Foggy’s talking about but he knows exactly what Foggy’s
talking about, runs his fingers through his hair so it’s tousled—so people want
to touch it, really.
“Five people in this building
just swooned and they don’t know why,” Foggy says, sounding pleased with
himself when Matt can’t stifle a lot. “One of them is me, by the way—every time
you do that, I want to pull you into the nearest closet and mess it up even
more. Oh shit—can I do that now? Raise your hand if I’m allowed to do that now.”
Matt nursed a confusing but
urgent crush on Foggy for two full years before he confessed everything—literally
everything, senses and all. And Foggy
still wanted him. He wants him.
He raises his hand.
“Sweet,” Foggy says. “God, there
are so many things I want to do with you, Matty—I’ve been thinking all day
about what we’ll do when we get back to our room. I think I want to suck you
off.”
Matt swallows hard and raises his
hand again, grinning when Foggy laughs.
“Noted,” he says. “I’ve only done
it a few times but—every time, I thought about you instead. Getting on my knees
for you, the noises you’d make, you pulling my hair. Hey, you should probably pull my hair.”
Matt’s already got an
embarrassing public erection. He’s probably studied enough.
He stands up to pack up his bag
when Foggy says, just a little sternly, “Nope, sit down. I’m not done.”
Matt sits down immediately.
That’s interesting.
“Oh, wow,” Foggy says, like he’s
surprised that Matt listened to him. “You’re—you’re so hot, Matty. I want to
bend you over your desk and fuck you as hard as you want it. You’d want it
hard, wouldn’t you?”
Matt nods aggressively enough that
he thinks Foggy can see him.
“I thought so,” Foggy says,
warmly. “We’re gonna have so much fun, buddy—just as soon as we finish studying.
Another hour, you think?”
Matt drops his head to the table
and Foggy laughs loud enough that Matt could’ve heard it without his senses.
this one was, like, soft morning kisses turn intense or something
“We probably shouldn’t…” Matt says, when they’re lying in
bed together a few hours after Foggy was put in an uncomfortable damsel in
distress situation that led to an uncomfortable dramatic first kiss situation—uncomfortable
only because neither of them were expecting it to happen and they just sort of—fell into each other’s mouths. There was
no denying it was romantic but they knocked foreheads and noses and neither of
them knew what to do with their tongues and it couldn’t have been attractive.
He went home by himself afterward, cleaned up and changed
clothes, but that only lasted about an hour before he went to Matt’s place
because he probably shouldn’t be alone if psychopaths are wandering around
kidnapping people.
So, they have coffee and they get into bed together and Foggy
says, less confident than he sounds, “Wait, did you think I was going to put
out, Murdock? You haven’t even taken me out on a date yet.”
If Matt gave him the right smile, he’d put out in a second.
“You want that?” Matt asks, smiling. “For me to take you out?”
Oops. There it is.
“I want to be wooed,” Foggy says, even though he’d also like
to be fucked, kind of. He hasn’t actually done that and he kind of doubts Matt
has either but—he’s had solo exploration and some thoughts. Perfectly
understandable thoughts.
“I think I can do that,” Matt says. “I already know what you
like.”
“Tell me,” Foggy says, curiously.
“Dancing—regardless of skill level.”
“I can’t believe you’re starting off the wooing process by
insulting my moves.”
“Sorry,” Matt says, dutifully. “Uhm…Mel Brooks movies, Monty
Python, showtunes, classic rock…cheap wine but expensive beer…”
“That’s your fault,” Foggy interrupts. “You swayed me with
your craft beer hipster ways and no longer will PBR cross these lips.”
“You’re welcome,” Matt says, smiling. “I think maybe I’d take
you out for ice cream, though.”
“…that’s adorable,” Foggy says, hiding his face in his
pillow. “Tell me more.”
Matt tells him about getting ice cream cones in the late
afternoon, so it’s not too hot for them to walk around the neighborhood with
them—how he wants to hold Foggy’s hand and let everybody see and how he wants
to kiss him when his mouth is sweet and cold and—
Foggy interrupts him with another kiss. Their second.
“Tomorrow,” he says.
“Of course,” Matt agrees.
*
Over the course of the next eight hours, they both end up
getting elbowed and kicked and Foggy’s pretty sure he almost gives Matt a black
eye, but it’s been a long freaking time since either of them has had someone
consistently sleeping in their bed— nevertheless attempting cuddling, which is
apparently a health hazard for them.
He still feels well-rested, though, when he wakes up with Matt
pulling him close and pressing soft close-mouthed kisses to his neck.
“You’re still here,” Matt mumbles, against Foggy’s skin.
“Did you think I was going to ditch you after the promise of
free ice cream?” Foggy asks, reaching up to stroke fingers through Matt’s hair.
“Once you came to your senses.”
Foggy’s always loved Matt, in one way or another. Now that he’s
got full permission, though—he’s gonna love the hell out of him.
“Pretty sure I’m the saner half of this relationship,” he
says, “and—I’m still here, Matty.”
Matt sits up to smile softly at him and kiss him on the mouth
instead; they trade cautious, not quite sure what they’re doing kisses, moving
almost awkwardly until things suddenly click. Level unlocked: Matt’s hands
below his waist, hot shaky breath in Foggy’s ear as he squeezes his ass through
his boxers.
“Sorry,” Matt says, laughing softly. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“Can’t fault you,” Foggy says, taking a shaky breath.
They’re both silent for a long moment before Matt says, “Yeah,
I’m just gonna—” and rolls on top of Foggy to kiss him roughly, laughing when
Foggy mumbles, “Yeah, fuck first dates,” and grabs him by the hair.
I LOVE THIS.
I never thought about Foggy expecting that Matt and Marci mostly wanted to hook up with each other and then being really overwhelmed when they’re both crawling on top of him at the same time and taking turns kissing him and undressing him and maybe blowing him at the same time can you IMAGINE BECAUSE FOGGY PREVIOUSLY COULD NOT
Looooove it.
@electriceell replied to your post “i’m making many DEMANDS tonight. roll with me. tell me all of your…”
YES ALL THESE THINGS. Also she learns how to dress and make herself up and carry herself so no one in law school will fucking know where she comes from. she studies twice as hard because she’s not ever going to let those assholes catch her off guard or on a technicality she missed. she’s razor sharp except with Foggy because he’s so soft and gives no fucks. and matt is razor sharp with everyone except Foggy because…. FOGGY IS SUNSHINE.
yes yes yes yes yes yes yes x a million
i hope this delivered on the desperate!! and it’s also #nsfw.
(this is for the $5 level on patreon, where i’ll write you a 500+ word ficlet every month.)
“Matt, wait,” Foggy says, before he sends Matt off to be a hero.
Matt turns back and Foggy takes the five steps between them to pull him in by the collar of his borrowed t-shirt and kiss him on the mouth. There’s one, two, three seconds and then Matt kisses him back cautiously, curving a hand around Foggy’s cheek.
They both gasp when they part.
“…now?” Matt asks, laughing, resting his hands on Foggy’s shoulders.
“I didn’t want to miss my window,” Foggy says.
“The window’s been open since the day we met,” Matt says, looking so pleased and overwhelmed that Foggy can’t help but feel like, under all the fear and anxiety and anger at Matt for doing stupidly brave shit like he’s about to do, he’s glowing.
Matt kisses him again, firmly.
“I have to go,” he says, smoothing down Foggy’s hair gently, while Foggy bites his tongue so he doesn’t beg him to stay even though he’d beg if he had to. “I’ll be back soon.”
“You better be,” he says, thinking that he can live off the soft smile that Matt gives him until he gets back.
*
Matt doesn’t come back.
And Foggy can’t live off that.
*
Jessica calls him to tell him that Matt is on his way and it makes Foggy furious, that she would joke about it, that she’d do it after months and months of Foggy trying and failing and trying and failing to move on. It takes a few minutes of her yelling back at him before he realizes that she probably wouldn’t do this to him. Jessica’s not nice but she’s also not actively a jerk; it would take too much of her energy than she’d bother using on him.
So he stands stock still in the middle of his apartment taking shallow breaths, too shocked for his mind to race, to try to figure out how the hell Matt could be alive after all this time.
When there’s a knock on his door, he starts shaking.
“Foggy,” Matt says.
Foggy’s breath catches and his body moves without his consent, trembling hand going to Matt’s hair to pull him into a kiss. Matt goes with it, as rough as Foggy wants and Foggy wants—wants to remember this if Matt’s gone again, wants bruises and scratches and swollen lips.
“Neighbors,” Matt breathes.
“Fuck ‘em,” Foggy says, mumbled against his mouth, but he lets Matt back them up and slam the door behind him.
Matt makes an agreeable noise when Foggy pushes him up against the door, tilting his head to the side so Foggy can bite and suck bruises onto his neck, panting when he asks, “Should we—should we talk?”
“I thought the window closed, Matt,” Foggy says, butting his head against Matt’s collarbone, hiding his face because he can’t look at Matt’s yet. “So fuck my neighbors, fuck talking, fuck—fuck you for leaving me, you dick.”
He’d cry right now if he didn’t need Matt to fuck him right now.
“I didn’t want to leave,” Matt says, haltingly.
Foggy doesn’t believe him—not really. He knows that Elektra went down with him, buried underneath all that debris, no body to be found. He was willing to disrupt both their lives for her and Foggy thinks he’d be willing to die for her, too. It’s wrong for him to be jealous. Matt was never just his.
He doesn’t care, though. He’s been in hole ripped inside of him agony for months and he doesn’t care about being reasonable.
Matt seems to realize that this isn’t the conversation to have right now because he tugs Foggy’s head up by his hair and kisses him again, bites at his lip, curls his hands around Foggy’s hips and holds them tight to pull him close and grind their hips together.
“Yeah,” Foggy says. “Yeah, Matt—c’mon, I’ve wanted you forever, I want you inside—”
Matt interrupts him with a thrust of his hips, smile close to Foggy’s face when Foggy moans.
“Whatever you want,” Matt promises, fervently.
Foggy’s never gotten that before.
*
“Matty,” Foggy groans, when Matt’s inside of him, too fast to do more than bend him over an arm on the couch and shove down his sweats and open him up with enough lube that it only hurts a little when Matt pushes in.
“Fog,” Matt says, shakily. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
Foggy whines in the back of his throat because he doesn’t even have to tell Matt to fuck him harder, he just does it, holding onto Foggy’s hips and pulling them up to get a better angle.
Foggy cries. He’s feeling too many things at once and he can’t help it, voice breaking when he says, “Don’t stop, I just–I missed you. I thought we’d get to have this and then I thought you were gone forever and–fuck, Matty, please.”
“Missed you, too,” Matt groans out, like he’s having a hard time speaking, and then he’s pulling out and ignoring Foggy’s protest to boost him up so he’s sitting on the arm and Matt can wrap his arms around him and Foggy can wrap his legs around Matt and Matt can kiss him while he fucks him.
And Foggy can see his face, see it twisted up with just as many emotions as Foggy’s feeling, and he loves him. He’s always loved him.
He’s surprised when Matt’s the one who says it first.
Matt’s back and he’s wrecking him and he loves Foggy and–Foggy’s getting what he wants. He’s getting everything he’s ever wanted.
He just hopes, feeling sick even though he’s so happy, that it lasts this time.
omg yes
this just reminded me of my need to rewatch every season of psych, so i guess that’s going to happen
@electriceell replied to your post “so this aziz stuff has been so stupid triggering for me and I was…”
thanks <3 <3 my brain is so angry and this damn snow storm has me trapped at home
SAME, THOUGH. i haven’t left my house in days and i’m having an unnecessary meltdown.
ugh, i’ve been feeling really uneasy about the way people are talking about it, too. here’s a little bit. ❤
Foggy’s pacing. Foggy’s pacing in his living room. And Foggy is pacing in his living room because Matt Murdock is passed out snoring on his couch for the first time in about—he doesn’t know, several months. Maybe a full year. Matt’s been too busy being a criminal fighting criminals to drink properly for a while.
He was hanging precariously from Foggy’s fire escape last night, apologizing as soon as Foggy opened his window because apparently he realized it wasn’t an especially good idea to follow up a couple of months with nothing more than stilted phone conversations with a late night visit from Trashed Matt.
Trashed Matt is a sweet, sad ball of human emotions who still doesn’t know how to ask for a hug but makes it very obvious that he wants one. It was nice in college, because there were very few points in his life then when he didn’t want to hug Matt. Now, though—it’s complicated.
*
He saw it all on Matt’s face, a little crumpled when he says, “I can just leave, Foggy, I should’ve called or—”
“Shut up,” Foggy says, laughing. “You’re already here.”
“You’re laughing at me,” Matt says, like he’s not sure how to feel about that.
“A little bit, yeah, Murdock,” Foggy says. “Come here.”
Matt takes a hesitant step forward and Foggy fills in the gap, wraps his arms around Matt and breathes out another laugh when Matt immediately clings to him, pressing his face into Foggy’s shoulder.
“Thanks,” he murmurs. “Thank you, I just—wanted to see you. Don’t make a blind joke.”
“I won’t,” Foggy says, smoothing a hand up and down Matt’s back.
*
He almost let Matt sleep in his bed, but they don’t really do that. They have all these lines that Foggy mostly built himself but Matt seemed to understand; they toe them sometimes but only that.
So, after Matt drinks a few glasses of water and they talk as much as they can when Matt looks like he just wants to crawl into Foggy’s arms again, Matt settles into Foggy’s couch with an excess of pillows and blankets and falls asleep almost immediately.
If Foggy watches him sleep, it’s only for a minute.
Now, he’s walking a hole in his floor until he sees Matt stir, waking up and immediately groaning and swearing hoarsely.
“…Foggy?” he asks, sitting up slowly. His hair’s a mess and he’s making a sleepy, pained face. It’s more adorable than Foggy’s seen him in a long time, which does something old and familiar to his stomach.
“You survived,” Foggy says.
“Did you—put an ice pick through my eye, maybe?” Matt ask, rubbing his temples. “I probably deserved it, but—ow.”
“You did that to yourself, buddy.”
“Right,” Matt says. “Sorry for coming here. I was thinking about you.”
“And the whiskey guided you?” Foggy asks. “I made a pot of coffee. You should drink most of it, probably.”
“Thanks,” Matt murmurs, starting to get up and making a long, pained noise before he sinks back down again. “Nope, not yet.”
“Just stay there,” Foggy says. “You were not sure on your feet last night, I’d rather not have you break something. I dropped my Matt Murdock insurance after we split up.”
“Sounds like we divorced,” Matt says, smiling wryly, kind of sad.
“Well, close enough,” Foggy says. “Bacon?”
“…yeah, please.”
*
Matt looks a little less dead after he eats and takes a shower, coming out in nothing but a smile and pair of Foggy’s sweatpants because it’s entirely possible that Matt is allergic to shirts. After all the time they lived together, Foggy has enough evidence to support this theory.
“I can leave, if you want,” Matt says, for probably the tenth time.
“How are you feeling?” Foggy asks.
“Like my—brain is too big for my skull,” Matt says, after a moment.
“You’re still dehydrated,” Foggy says. “Sit down.”
Matt seems to like Foggy telling him what to do, gets this soft, perplexed smile on his face as he sits down. It opens up something inside of Foggy that he’s never quite let himself feel before. Matt drinks the water bottle that Foggy gives him and then turns to him expectantly.
“…lie down,” Foggy says, shifting to give him more room on the couch.
“Here?” Matt asks, hesitantly.
“My lap.”
Matt’s mouth drop opens for just a moment before he nods and moves to lie down on his side, head resting in Foggy’s lap, moving around until he’s comfortable and making a soft noise when Foggy slides fingers into his hair.
They’re both quiet as Foggy pets him and rubs his temples and feels a dumb thrill at the satisfied sounds that Matt makes, shifting and moaning softly.
“Why were you thinking about me, Matt?” Foggy asks, breaking the silence.
“…I can’t stop,” Matt says.
“Matt,” Foggy says, sternly, and Matt sighs and rubs his cheek against Foggy’s knee.
“I just can’t believe that I lost you when I was just figuring out what you really meant to me,” Matt says. It takes him a few attempts, stumbling over words, stopping to take a shaky breath. Foggy thinks he knows what that means. It just didn’t take him as long to figure it out.
He lets his fingers brush over Matt’s mouth and Matt kisses them.
“I can leave,” he whispers.
“Kiss me,” Foggy says, and Matt sits up slowly, touching their foreheads together. “We can sort out all of our shit later, Matt, just—just kiss me, okay?”
“Okay,” Matt echoes, and he kisses Foggy on the mouth softly, chaste. Foggy laughs.
“Kiss me better than that,” he says, laughing harder when Matt tips him over on his back and climbs on top of him.
oh my god, they were roommates 