this is the face of Nelson, Murdock and Page’s most frustrating client

they’re open🙌🙌

ily hot priest

its just me and my daredevil water against the world

The Dislocated Room - Richard Siken

It was night for many miles and then the real stars in the purple sky, like little boats rowed out too far, begin to disappear. And there, in the distance, not the promised land, but a Holiday Inn, with bougainvillea growing through the chain link by the pool. The door swung wide: twin beds, twin lamps, twin plastic cups wrapped up in cellophane and he says No Henry, let’s not do this. Can you see the plot like dotted lines across the room? Here is the sink to wash away the blood, here’s the whiskey, the ripped-up shirt, the tile of the bathroom floor, the disk of the drain punched through with holes. Here’s the boy like a sack of meat, here are the engines, the little room that is not a room, the Henry that is not a Henry, the Henry with a needle and thread, hovering over the hollow boy passed out on the universal bedspread. Here he is again, being sewn up. So now we have come to a great battlefield, the warmth of the fire, the fire still burning, the heat escaping like a broken promise. This is the part where you wake up in your clothes again, this is the part where you’re trying to stay inside the building. Stay in the room for now, he says. Stay in the room for now. This is the place, you say to yourself, this is the place where everything starts to begin, the wounds reveal a thicker skin and suddenly there is no floor. Meanwhile, there is something underneath the building that is trying very hard to get your attention— a man with almond eyes and a zipper that runs the length of his spine. You can see the shadow that the man is throwing across the linoleum, how it resembles a boat, how it crosses the tiles just so, the masts of his arms rasping against the windows. He’s pointing at you with a glass of milk as if he’s trying to tell you that there is some sort of shining star now buried deep inside you and he has to dig it out with a knife. The bell rings, the dog growls, and then the wind picking up, and the light falling, and his mouth flickering, and the dog howling, and the window closing tight against the dirty rain. Here is the hallway and here are the doors and here is the fear of the other thing, the relentless thing, your body drowning in gravity. This is the in-between, the waiting that happens in the space between one note and the next, the place where you confuse his hands with the room, the dog with the man, the blood with the ripped-up sky. He puts his hands all over you to keep you in the room. It’s night. It’s noon. He’s driving. It’s happening all over again. It’s love or it isn’t. It isn’t over. You’re in a car. You’re in the weeds again. You’re on a bumpy road and there are criminals everywhere, longing for danger. Henry, he’s saying. Who is it that’s talking? I thought I heard the clink of ice to teeth. I thought I heard the clink of teeth to glass. Open the door and the light falls in. Open your mouth and it falls right out again. He’s on top of you. He’s next to you, right next to you in fact. He has the softest skin wrapped entirely around him. It isn’t him. It isn’t you. You’re falling now. You’re swimming. This is not harmless. You are not breathing. You’re climbing out of the chlorinated pool again. We have not been given all the words necessary. We have not been given anything at all. We’ve been driving all night. We’ve been driving a long time. We want to stop. We can’t. Is there an acceptable result? Do we mean something when we talk? Is it enough that we are shuddering from the sound? Left hand raising the fork to the mouth, feeling the meat slide down your throat, thinking My throat. Mine. Everything in this cone of light is mine. The ashtray and the broken lamp, the filthy orange curtains and his ruined shirt. I’ve been in your body, baby, and it was paradise. I’ve been in your body and it was a carnival ride. They want to stop but they can’t stop. They don’t know what they’re doing. This is not harmless, the how to touch it, we do not want the screen completely lifted from our eyes, just lifted long enough to see the holes. Tired and sore and rubbed the wrong way, rubbed raw and throbbing in the light. They want to stop but they don’t stop. They cannot get the bullet out. Cut me open and the light streams out. Stitch me up and the light keeps streaming out between the stitches. He cannot get the bullet out, he thinks, he can’t, and then he does. A little piece of grit to build a pearl around. Midnight June. Midnight July. They’ve been going at it for days now. Getting the bullet out. Digging out the bullet and holding it up to the light, the light. Digging out the bullet and holding it up to the light.

shut up i’m busy having a fake relationship with a fictional character right now

Hannibal (2013-2015)

2x13 || 3x04

Falling For the Devil [Part sixty-five: "The Shower"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt returns to his apartment for a shower after walking you home from Fogwell’s Gym.

Or Matt jerks off in the shower to thoughts of you.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 2.9k

a/n: This is a smutty installment that is literally just Matt jerking off in the shower. You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here. And if you're enjoying it, let me know!

Matt slipped out of his shoes as he closed his apartment door behind himself, tossing his gym bag onto the bench nearby. He hung his cane up on the wall hook before bending over, grabbing his shoes from the floor and placing them under the bench. After, he began unbuttoning his winter coat, recalling the memory of how excited you had gotten when you finally landed a decent hit on the punching bag tonight. You had let out an adorable noise, something almost akin to a squeal but not quite, and the sound had instantly drawn a smile to his face at Fogwell’s. Just as the memory of it was now.

It had taken you a bit to focus on his instructions, though. You had very much been distracted by him. It shouldn't have been a surprise, really, he thought as he hung up his winter coat on a hook before making his way through his apartment towards the bathroom. For the past few weeks he'd picked up on your increasing arousal whenever he was around, which made sense because neither of you had had sex in months. But lately it seemed you became turned on by any touch from him–a hand brushing along your back as he passed you, a long hug, even just him tucking some hair behind your ear. 

Everything had quickly become a turn on for you, which in turn was making it difficult for Matt to continue to refrain from having sex with you. He wanted to– God how he wanted to–but after what had happened between you both the last time you'd had sex, after what he had done, he didn't want to mess up this next time. Admittedly he knew he was putting a lot of pressure on himself to try to make this next time perfect for you, to make it a romantic display of how much he loved you. And after last time, he wanted to make sure you were comfortable and felt safe with him as well, but it was beginning to feel like there would never be a way to achieve some absolutely perfect moment for you both. And in turn it was just drawing out the sexual tension, causing both of you to become further sexually frustrated. He could tell you certainly were. But he couldn't mess this up, not with you and not again–he wouldn’t get a third chance to make things right.

Though he’d felt awful when you’d almost cried tonight thinking that he had been pushing you away because he didn’t want you. Hell, some days lately all he could think about was how badly he just needed to feel you, to have that connection with you again. He missed it and he sure as hell was craving it. He supposed he really did need to find a way to bring this all up with you, to help you understand why he’d been holding back. Though he’d known how stressed you’d been with work, yet again getting tossed fluff piece after fluff piece by Ellison, so it almost never felt like a good time to have a serious conversation. And it especially didn’t help that most of the time he was crawling through your living room window late at night when you did see each other lately. You’d both been busy during the weekends for the past two weeks–him at the firm and you trying to chase leads that Ellison would actually let you follow. He was struggling to find an opportune moment to talk to you about everything.

Pulling his shirt over his head, Matt tossed it aside on his bathroom floor before stripping out of his sweatpants, boxers, and socks. He stepped into the shower, reaching out a hand to turn it on. Instantly the loud hiss of the spray echoed in his ears, the abrupt noise causing him to briefly grimace. He stepped back out, giving the water a bit of time to heat up before he actually got in–he hated being hit with the cold spray of the showerhead.

Inevitably he found his mind still wandering back to you, as it often did. He had walked you home from Fogwell’s before he'd walked the block and a half back to his building. And he was going to stop by again tonight after his shower and stay with you, as you’d requested earlier. Except this time he'd be showing up at the front door and not through your window for once. He wasn’t going out in the mask tonight, something he had slowly been doing less and less because it had become apparent that no one interested in Daredevil was aware of your connection to him. After weeks of going out at night, he was positive you were safe now.

But as Matt waited for the shower to heat up just a bit more, the comment you'd made earlier tonight at Fogwell’s raced through his mind again. You'd asked for him to give you a bit of time before he showed up tonight, hinting at the fact that you'd be in your shower and touching yourself. To thoughts of him .

Matt's cock twitched instantly at the thought, his eyes immediately snapping shut as he audibly sucked in a sharp breath. You’d sounded so coy when you’d said that earlier. It had been so long since he’d heard you talk like that tonight that it had admittedly thrown him off for a moment, but fuck if it hadn’t quickly turned him on, too. 

When the two of you had first been together, you’d usually been so timid and unsure of yourself with him. Almost afraid to touch and kiss him. Which he certainly hadn’t minded–he’d loved being the one who saw that transformation in you as you gained confidence in the bedroom. And when you’d finally started to loosen up and be yourself with him? Asking for what you wanted? Taking control in the bedroom? Especially those times you’d excitedly climbed on top of him, nails biting into his shoulders, and rode him so enthusiastically until his senses felt like they were dulling to everything other than you. Hell if that didn’t drive him absolutely wild to witness you like that. Experiencing you become so confident and in control easily brought him to his knees every damn time. And hell if he wouldn’t give anything to experience you like that with him again.

Matt roughly shook his head, stepping into the shower and sliding the door shut behind him. He let the warm water cascade down the front of himself, trying to rinse those thoughts away as the water ran down his tired and aching body. 

But they didn't stay away for long.

He knew you were already home right now. Were you in the shower at this very moment, too? Was your beautiful, soft, naked body soaked from the water running down you in your own shower? Your skin slippery and somehow even softer from the dampness; he remembered the feel of it from his showers with you in the past. A rumbling groan left Matt’s mouth as he tried to recall the feel of your wet breasts in his hands and the memory of how it felt to grind himself along your ass as he had in previous showers. Your supple, soaked flesh was always so inviting to him.

Were you touching yourself right now? Those little, breathy moans of yours filling your bathroom as you rubbed your clit? Were you panting as you fingered yourself, thinking about him ? He couldn’t deny that he desperately wished those pleasure-filled noises you made were filling his ears right now. He desperately missed those faint whines and whimpers that spilled out of you when you were really worked up. Because of him . Maybe you were crying his name out into your shower right now. Maybe you were whimpering out ‘baby’ in that high-pitched voice like you did when he was fucking you just right.

“Shit,” he groaned at the thought, running a hand through his damp hair.

It had been so long– too goddamn long–since he’d last heard you call him that. It always did something to him whenever you did, somehow drove him crazier for you. Exhaling a long, slow breath Matt tried to calm down, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. But he already knew that was futile; his cock was erect now, he could feel the aching need for you deep in his soul once again. He’d be jerking off in his shower, yet again, to thoughts of you today.

“ Fuck ,” he cursed.

Leaning forward, he pressed both of his hands against the tile of the shower wall.The spray of the showerhead was running down his back now, though his focus was solely on his throbbing cock begging for attention at just the thought of you in your shower like that. Matt’s teeth grit together. He was going to have to take care of this now or he’d be struggling to keep himself from initiating something with you when he came over later. And that would risk him messing things up with you and he couldn’t afford that. It wasn’t exactly an option.

Resigned, his right hand lowered and gripped the base of his cock, his hips jerking involuntarily forward at the touch as he did. The scent of your arousal strong in the air at Fogwell’s filled his mind now, his lips parting as he tried to recall it fully. What he wouldn’t give to taste you on his tongue again; not just that sweet tang of you in the air, but the warm, fragrant taste of you straight from your beautiful cunt. To be between your plush thighs again, feeling your muscles fighting to keep from crushing him as he lapped at your clit, his fingers pumping inside of you. To feel your hands desperately gripping his hair as you neared your climax, the sound of your blood racing through your veins as your heart violently thrummed in your chest. The way you sometimes cried out when you came–especially if it was his full name–was drawing goosebumps onto his skin even now.

Teeth grinding harder against each other, his hand began stroking the length of himself faster, a soft whimper leaving his parted lips. Steadily his cock hardened further in his fist, though the sensation wasn’t exactly what he wanted. His hands were far too calloused and rough–you, on the other hand, were soft. Smooth. Nothing felt as good on his skin as your skin did; there wasn’t a single other texture in his life he’d encountered that ever felt as good as your bare skin on his. But for now, his own hand would have to suffice.

As he worked his hand back and forth along himself, the feeling of something tightening deep in his gut with his increasing need, he recalled one of the times the two of you had been in this very shower. You’d joined him one morning, taking him entirely by surprise as you slid the glass door open and stepped inside with him. Wordlessly your hands had roamed his chest before you’d kissed him–and soon you’d knelt down on the shower floor, taking him into your mouth. 

Matt hissed at the memory of your mouth on him, the sound loud to his own ears. His hips jerked forward into his hand again, his left hand still on the tiled wall and curling into a fist. You had felt so goddamn good with the way your soft lips were gripping the girth of him, your tongue somehow finding every extra sensitive spot until he’d been fighting not to buck forward into your mouth and fuck you just like that. And you’d been enjoying yourself thoroughly, the moans trapped in your mouth vibrating his cock as you eagerly worked him. He’d barely been able to hold himself back from cumming right away that morning, something he only seemed to have an issue with when it came to you.

A wave of pleasure washed over Matt as he bucked forward into his fist rather sharply at the memory of you sucking his cock. If only you were here right now, he thought, his eyes pinching tightly shut as a whine left his mouth. If only your hands were on his thighs, dragging your nails down his legs as you took him in your mouth. If only he could feel your tongue hungrily lapping at him as if you couldn’t get enough of the taste of his cock. If only he could listen to the sound of your body instead of his own right now. 

“ Ahh !” he hissed out between his teeth.

His cock was growing sensitive under the ministrations of his hand the closer he came to his release. Rocking his hips into his fist, still steadying himself against the tile with his other hand, he tried to imagine your tight, wet cunt taking him instead. Matt loosed a long, low groan that seemed to echo in his shower at the thought; it had been so damn long since he last felt you like that. He missed the way your cunt would twitch and flutter around him snug inside of you as thrust into you over and over. 

As he continued to work his fist along the length of himself, his hips continuing to rock into his hand’s motion, Matt’s mind abruptly shifted to something the two of you had never done before. Admittedly it was something he hadn’t done often because the stimulation was generally way too much for him to actually garner any pleasure from. But oh, how he wanted to feel your pretty mouth sucking his cock while he buried himself between your thighs. To feel the weight of you on top of him, your body flush to his, while he could simultaneously taste you on his tongue.

“ Sh-it ,” Matt stuttered out. “Ahh, fuck .”

Just the thought of his senses overwhelming him in that position with you had him nearing his peak already, but he wasn’t quite there yet. Hand picking up its pace, Matt grunted out as he clung to that mental projection. Your breasts pressed against his hips, your nipples hard against his skin. The moans you’d be making filling his bedroom and vibrating along his cock in your sweet, soft mouth. Maybe you’d be a bit overstimulated yourself with him lapping your clit. Matt nearly snarled at the thought of your hips jerking downwards onto his face as he ate you out, your body giving into pleasure and ignoring everything else–just as you’d done Halloween night on his couch when you sat on his face. 

“ Oh, God, ” Matt whined out.

Fuck, the thought of you grinding that delicious cunt along his tongue had his hand gripping harder around his cock. He was so, so close now. Right at the edge of his peak. He wondered how many times he could get you to cum like that. Have that warm, sweetness of you release right into his mouth, his hands firmly grasping the flesh of your ass and encouraging you to grind along his face. Would you cry out while his cock was still in your mouth? Would you beg him to fuck you afterwards?

His chest was heaving now, his loud, gasping breaths filling his shower with the steam. Matt’s hand never slowed as he began whimpering your name into the shower, not remotely caring how pathetic he sounded to his own ears. His climax approached quickly, his eyes tightening further as he clung to that mental projection of you pressed to his body, moaning on his stiff cock as you came hard on his face. A warm, familiar wash of pleasure slowly rolled its way up Matt’s spine like the drag of your fingernails.  

An unrestrained moan flew out of Matt, his head falling back along his shoulders as his abdomen clenched at his release. Hot and sticky cum spilled out of him, some of it splattering onto the tile of the shower, some leaking onto his own hand. He continued to drag his hand along his cock, his body shuddering at the overstimulation of it, but he needed to get it out of his system before he saw you tonight. He couldn’t let the scent of your arousal in the air, fresh or lingering from whatever you’d done in your shower, send him over the edge again. So he worked his hand over himself until it was too much. And then, dizzy and spent, his head dipped forward and rested along the shower wall as he tried to catch his breath.

He had never gotten this worked up over anyone else before. How was it, even after all of this time, you still managed to drive him into such a frenzy? Even just the thought of him having you drove him absolutely crazy. No one had ever done that to him before. And it was like the more he had you, the more he wanted you. He could never quite get enough.

With a sigh, Matt pushed himself off of the wall and entirely into the spray overhead. He’d finish washing up in the shower and head over to your place. He didn’t want to keep you waiting. And hopefully this moment in his shower was enough to hold him over until his next moment away from you. Because he was sure he’d be back in his shower tomorrow morning doing the same thing after a night of you wrapped around him again.

Girls will be like “oh I’m just running quick some errands” and then spend all day in the wetlands appreciating the unique flora and fauna

I have a folder called Time is a Flat Circle in which I collect evidence of humanity. Here is most of them.

Anna Haifisch

I’ve been seeing people solely put the blame for this decision on Steven and I think that’s unfair. Just because you like Shane and Ryan doesn’t mean you can ignore the fact that they had a role in this decision. The 3 of them run Watcher together. Come on guys, use your brains.

“People with no business experience are saying watcher made a bad business decision.”

The backlash alone should tell you this is a bad business decision. It doesn’t take business experience or a business degree to notice that.

Anyone check how Boobs69420 is taking this?

taylor swift is neither tortured nor is she any kind of poet lol

tried drawing Elektra 🫶

CHARLIE COX as MICHAEL KINSELLA

RTE KIN 2.05