Azrael

Muscle Memory

He fucks you slowly at first, like he's afraid of being too much. He knows how big he is, how your stomach bulges when he presses in just right. He sees the way your back arches, the way your mouth parts, trembling and breathless, already stuffed so full of him. And he still asks if you're okay. Always. Softly. A kiss at your temple, even while you're shaking. But then there's the moment he hears your breath hitch and sees you look down. Sees you watching your own belly stretch with the obscene outline of his cock. Something flips. That quiet awe in his chest turns into hunger. He rocks into you harder, the bed frame groaning under both your bodies. He watches your thighs start to quiver. Watches your hands scrabble for anything—him, the sheets, your own cock— and he doesn’t stop. Just breathes heavy and praises you, voice thick with arousal. “You take me so good, baby,” he whispers. “Every time, I swear, you fit around me like you were made to. Just perfect.”

Worship

Sometimes he’ll slow down just to admire you like this. Not during foreplay—no, during. When you're already panting under him, hips slick and hole drooling with the stretch, and his cock keeps pressing deeper. He palms your thighs with reverence, kisses down your chest like you’re some sacred thing. Big hands spreading your legs wider. Thumbs digging into the softest parts of you. He’ll murmur things under his breath that make your skin feel hot and holy. “Love your body,” he says. “So soft. So pretty. All mine. And when you clench around him at the praise, he fucking smiles.

Making His Mark

He cums too much. Always has. The first time he stayed the night, you woke up sore and leaking and still full—because you’d passed out before he’d even finished cleaning you up. Kryptonian stamina. He apologized with breakfast in bed and a guilty smile, but when you told him you liked it, he blushed so hard it reached his ears Now it’s become part of the routine. Every time he finishes, he stays inside, grinding in shallow, greedy circles like he’s trying to fuck it all in deeper. The sheets stained, your thighs sticky, your hole raw and red and dripping down the curve of your ass. He watches you try to crawl away, boneless and overstimulated “You can’t just… fill me like that,” you mutter, dizzy. “You’re right,” he says. “I should do it again.”

Spent

He loves looking at you after. Really looking. Your chest rising and falling in slow, wrecked rhythm. Your lips parted, your eyes glazed, your thighs still twitching from the aftershocks. His cum leaking from your hole in thick, messy ropes, all down your skin, soaking into the sheets. You always look ruined, used, perfect. He touches you like he’s not sure he deserves the sight. Just drags a hand down your chest, your thigh, breath caught in his throat. You’re gaping, still stretched wide around the memory of him, and he swears under his breath every time. He brings a hand between your legs and drags two fingers through the mess. Shudders when you whimper from the touch. “Jesus,” he whispers. “Look what I did to you.”

Muscle Memory II

Clark’s a big man. And when you worship him—really let your hands explore the stretch of his abs, the thick strength of his thighs, the wide expanse of his chest—he gets flustered. Because he doesn’t expect it. He doesn’t think you see him like that. But you do. You kiss the line of his stomach, trace your tongue up to the cleft between his pecs, and he sucks in a breath every time. “You’re beautiful,” you say. He huffs out a laugh, ducking his head. “You think so?” You palm him through his briefs—heavy, half-hard, already huge— and smile up at him. “I know so.” When you finally get him naked, you take your time. You kneel between his legs, run your hands across every inch of that body, skin warm and golden under your palms. You stroke his cock slow—long, thick, flushed pink at the tip—and tell him how good he looks like this, hard and wanting for you. “I want you inside me,” you whisper. “Want you to fuck me open with this big fucking thing. Want you to fill your boyfriend with all that cum until it’s dripping out of me.” His breath hitches. And then he gives you exactly what you asked for. "Sweet heaven."

Where You Go Softest

There’s something about your body that Clark loves with aching intensity. Your thighs, especially. He says they’re his favorite place to rest his head, his hands, his mouth. You’ve seen him fuck himself stupid just from the sight of you spread open, thighs trembling, your cock flushed and leaking against your belly. He grabs handfuls of your ass while he thrusts, steady and deep, burying his face in your neck to muffle the sounds he makes. Sometimes he just moans your name like a broken prayer. “Could stay inside you forever,” he pants. “You feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Squeezing me like that, fuck.” And when he’s just eating you out? Forget it. He’s obsessed. Tongue buried in your hole, big hands pinning your hips down, leaving finger-shaped bruises across your ass as he devours you like he’s starved. He doesn’t stop until your cock’s twitching untouched on your stomach and your thighs are shaking around his ears.

Without Harm

When he holds you down, it’s not with force. It’s with care. Clark cradles your waist with one hand, the other under your ass to angle your hips up, and it’s almost absurd how easy it is for him to manhandle you. He could bend you in half with one arm, pin your wrists above your head with a single hand, keep you in place while his cock drills deep. But he never rushes. Even when he’s fucking you hard: sweat beading at his temples, his broad chest slick and flexing over yours—he checks in. A hand brushing your cheek. A kiss between thrusts. A question, murmured against your throat. “Still good, baby? Can you take more?” You always say yes. Even when your body’s shaking. Even when your hole is raw and stretched wide open, swallowing him deeper than you ever thought you could take. He presses a hand to your lower belly and moans when he feels himself inside you. “God. That’s me.”

Overflow

Clark doesn’t need toys. Doesn’t need anything but you on your back, legs spread, begging him to go slow while your body contradicts you and sucks him in. He’s thick from tip to base, flushed and heavy, the kind of cock that curves just enough to ruin you. You’ve never been able to take him all at once, not without working up to it. He helps; spit, fingers, gentle coaxing—and still, every time, your body trembles when he breaches you. “You’re doing so good,” he whispers, rocking his hips. “Let me in. Let me fill you up.” And he does. You feel him for hours after. His cum drips out of you long after he’s pulled out—thick, cloudy, sticky strings that leave you ruined between the legs. Sometimes you can’t even close your thighs properly. Sometimes he doesn’t pull out at all. You’ll feel it trickle out when you’re washing dishes or putting on pants, and he’ll catch you pausing with a faraway look in your eyes and murmur, “Still leaking?”

Evidence of Him

He never tires of seeing you like this. Sprawled out beneath him, wrecked. Limbs slack. Hole gaping. His come dripping out in slow, shiny streaks down the curve of your ass and the inside of your thighs. Clark watches. He runs his hand down your spine, dips his fingers between your cheeks, and hums at the sight of your trembling rim, twitching open, pink and raw and leaking. He never says much. Just soft sounds of awe. A whispered “Christ,” maybe, or “You look perfect like this.” Sometimes he spreads you open again just to see it. To see how loose you are. How thoroughly he’s fucked you. How your hole flutters like it misses him already. “You need me again?” he asks, almost innocent. Thumb still dragging through the mess he left. You nod. Of course you do. He’s already hard again.

The Unravel

It doesn’t take long to unravel. Clark can take you standing up, bent over the sink, pressed against the wall, or face down in bed with a pillow under your hips. Every angle stretches you in new ways. Every time feels like the first time. Sometimes it’s fast. You’re soaked already, hungry for him, and he’s in you with one smooth thrust. Sometimes it’s slower. Long strokes, deep grinding, his hand around your cock while he fills you. Your body doesn’t know what to do with him. It tries to reject the stretch, even as your moans get louder, your back arches, your legs shake. And when you come: ruined, overstimulated, voice cracking from how hard you cry out. Clark follows with a deep, full groan. He never pulls out.

Rest, Ripe, and Heavy

Afterward, he’s always starving. You’re still trying to catch your breath, still aching and loose and wrecked, and Clark’s already pulling on a pair of sweats, padding barefoot into the kitchen. You call after him. “Can you give me like five minutes before you start making dinner?” He pops his head back in, cheeks pink, curls messy. “I wasn’t gonna make dinner,” he says. “Just a snack.” You laugh, rubbing your stomach. “You just blew my back out.” He shrugs, sheepish. “I’m still a growing boy.” You roll your eyes and tell him to come back to bed, and he does, climbing under the sheets with you, hand pressed to your belly, whispering he’s sorry for how sore you’ll be tomorrow. He’s not sorry.

Mafia Boss!Price who has ruled the city with an iron fist for the past few years. He took the time to bribe the politicians in the city, making sure no one could build a case against him. He seduced the regular citizens of the city by funding schools, homeless shelters, and more.

Everything about him had been crafted to perfection, the way he was scary to his enemies but tender for the people under his rule. He was running a tight ship, no cracks for any outsiders to take control of his territories.

Until you came, a mafia boss no one had heard of until you just appeared one day.

You were clearly a foreigner, not someone who had lived in the city for even a month before you tried climbing the ranks. Your men were brutal with people, scaring the low-level criminals who were previously loyal to Price until they came to your side.

You had the advantage of having some very capable goons who didn't mind going out and doing constructions of buildings themselves, having a leg-up Price who could only pay construction workers. You even went to work on a construction site yourself, which did well to endear the public to you.

Slowly but surely, you were taking over territories in the city that had been Price's for years until now. His properties and land were getting smaller and smaller, not small enough to put him out of business completely, but enough that he was growing tired of it.

But he didn't want to risk getting on the citizens' bad side by starting a war between you and him, so he called you to one of his favorite pubs which resided in the area of the city you were eyeing currently. He was going to negotiate a deal that would be beneficial to you both, because he was very frustrated with having to fight for the areas of the city he had ruled over for years before.

He just hoped he could strike a deal with you.

Banners made by @/cafekitsune and separator made by @/une-femme-de-lettres

Did I purposefully leave y'all on a cliffhanger? Yes. But this was longer than I was planning.

Don't worry, there's a second part (or more) coming.

FRANK

Franks love languages are acts of service and quality time. His favorite acts of service is cooking and baking for you. He is a really good cook and makes the meanest cookies ever. He also really enjoys when you join him in the kitchen while he’s cooking or baking. It doesn’t matter if you’re helping him or not he enjoys your presence. This also feeds into quality time. Frank likes to spend a lot of time with you because he is worried that something will either happen to you or him. Also this quality time spent together gives him comfort that you are ok and that nothing happened to you.

Frank in return likes touch and words of affirmation. However he prefers touch over words of affirmation but he still loves both nonetheless. Franks like when you touch him even if it’s just pinky’s hooked together. Feeling your touch grounds him but also reminds him that you are with him and nothing happened to you. Now on the flip side Frank likes words of affirmation. It makes him feel loved when you tell him that you’re proud of him or that you appreciate him. In the past Frank was never really told those things so he clings on to them every time you say them. They also warm his big cold heart.

MATT

Matt’s love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service. Sometimes he doesn’t realize that he’s saying words of affirmation to you. It just comes so naturally to him. But the times he does catch him doing it he pays attention for changes in your heartbeat to see if what he says has an effect on you. He also listens for changes when he tells or shows you that he did something that you’ve been putting off or been meaning to do. When he hears these changes in your heartbeat he smiles to himself knowing he made you happy/feel good.

It was a Sunday morning spent watching football with Frank. He sat on the couch holding the remote while you were lying down with your legs resting on his lap. He was busy watching the game and you were completely unaware of what was going on. He would cheer, curse at the TV, shout, and almost throw the remote. 

“Fuck! What the fuck is up with this ref?” he said, throwing his hands around. 

He was so serious, his brows furrowed and his body so animated. You try to tease him through his sweatpants, the heel of your foot lightly grazing his crotch. You twist and turn on the couch to show that you were just shifting for a more comfortable position, but the truth is you were focused on getting him hard. 

“Babe,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“You’re so riled up with that game I figured you could ease up a bit,” You feel his crotch harden underneath your heel. You sit beside him, palming his growing erection. “It looks like it’s working though.”

He grunts, your middle finger drawing circles around his tip. You loosen the tie around his waist, putting your hand underneath the fabric to release his cock. It was thick, your fingers wrapping around the whole shaft. The tip was already red and leaking, your index finger spread the wetness all over to form some lubrication as you stroked it. 

“Shit—,” Frank groaned. 

You were about to take him in your mouth before the phone started to ring. Frank moved over to reach for the phone, his cock still bare. He answers the call–it was David Lieberman. 

“Hey, what’s up.”

 “There’s a problem with the site,” David said through the phone. You tried to back off—to let him finish before playing with his cock again; but the aching red tip was taunting you, practically begging for touch. 

As they were discussing some work stuff you started to stroke his cock again. Frank’s eyes darted towards you enlarged with his brows furrowed. What the hell are you doing? He mouthed. You opened your mouth, saliva dripping like a clear string on his cock. You stroked him again before you took him in your mouth. 

Frank grunted. “All good there boss?” David asked. 

“Yeah yeah all good,” he cleared his throat. His hand went to the back of your head, guiding you as you tasted him. 

Frank tried to stifle his groans, his grip on your head getting tighter. Your lips wrapped around his thick length, sucking in all the air as you bobbed up and down. His hips started to buck into your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. 

You pulled off from his cock with your lips making a popping sound. You gasped for air as David continued to ramble about money and costings. Frank pulled away from the phone to speak.

“Oh so now you want to pull away? Nuh-uh kid, go back at it,” he said, pulling your head back in.

Your eyes started to well with tears as he fucked into your throat, using your mouth like a toy for his pleasure. He continued to talk to David, almost as if you weren’t there. Your jaw started to sore, your lips dripping wet, and your back hunched over. Your crotch started to stir. 

“Attaboy.”

You started to use your hands to stroke him, even fondling his balls. Your warm hands and wet mouth drew the hardest grunts from Frank. You could hear David ask him if he was okay. 

“Yeah, just need a drink that’s all,” he said, clearing his throat. “Talk to the other guys, we’ll deal with this tomorrow.”

“Sure thing boss,” David said, dropping the call after.

You look up at him with teary eyes. He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, patting your head like you just did a good job. He pulls you to his lap taking off your lower garments before straddling him. You align his tip with your hole, slowly sinking in. You held onto his broad shoulders for stabilization, his lips smirking as you wince in pain. 

“Fuck—it’s too big,” you cry out.

“You the one who started this,” he said sternly. “You gotta finish it.”

He holds your waist, pulling you down on his erection as it stretches you open. You cry out once more, your nails digging into his skin as you try to stay calm. You started to move your hips, moving it in circles, his cock filling you to the brim. It was an immense pleasure, the heat from your body rises tenfold. You ride him faster and with more vigor, your eyes closing in. 

He takes your chin to fix it in his gaze. 

“Open your eyes when I fuck you,” he said, lifting you so he can move his hips into you. He was quick and rough, your brows twitching trying not to close your lids. 

He lays you down on the couch so that he’s on top. His large arms above you as he fucked into your hole, your legs shaking and clenching in. You wrap your arms around his neck, moving your hips in sync with his. At that moment you felt your body join him, in complete synchronicity, both pleasure-bound. 

“Frank—” you moaned out. 

His lips let out hard grunts, his dark hair plastered across his forehead. You couldn’t stop admiring him. His stubbled face and his crooked nose. This man was all yours, to tease and to toy with, to fuck and to adore. 

“You gotta cum for me alright,” he groaned. “Then I’ll cum inside you, yeah?”

He started to buck his hips, his biceps flexing and his hands more veiny. The pleasure was too much, it was sending a thousand shocks of electricity all over your body. Your vision started to darken, Frank started to grunt louder, his thrusts more erratic. 

“Shit—shit,” Frank repeated as he hit his climax, spilling his cum inside you. 

You came all over your chest, some on Frank’s. He collapsed on top of you after, his large body weighing on you. You kissed him on the cheek, patting his head. 

“I think you missed the game,” you said, turning on to see that the game was done. 

“Fuck the game, we’re not done yet.”

“What?”

“Yeah, this is your fault for teasing me,” he said nonchalantly. “Now go on your hands and knees, I’m fucking you again.”

To him, pain and suffering is a saint. The pain of every hit, every jab, and every punch. To Matt Murdock, the pain of getting hit is like lashing for every sin he’s made. He is the fist of God, the guardian angel of the Kitchen, his suffering is the price for the safety of his people. So to him, yes, pain and suffering is the saint that guides him, the adrenaline to jump, to fight, to stand back up and fight again because he knows if he doesn’t, worse men will. 

He sits wounded on top of a building, the hanging laundry hiding him from plain sight. He pants, blood gushing from his lower rib. But then he smells it: gunpowder. The sound of clanking metal and rubber boots walking closer to him. He knows that smell, the smell of danger, the smell of bad news, the smell of The Punisher.

“They hit ya’ pretty bad tonight Red,” his rough voice roared across the building. He smells of blood, not his blood, but the blood of at least thirty other men. 

“I don’t need your help, Frank,” Matt said, wincing as he tried to stand. 

“I doubt that,” he was closer to Matt, he took the rear end of his rifle and pressed it to Matt’s wound, he cried out in pain. “See?”

“I don’t need any help from you.”

“That’s your problem, Red. You’re so self-righteous. You’re out here bleeding yourself to death thinking God sent you here on earth to be his punchin’ bag,'' he puts the rifle down, the metal butt hitting the floor. “You think your God can miraculously heal your wounds? The Devil ain’t no saint.” 

“And you’re any better?” Matt spat. “You wear that skull on your chest and you think that gives you the license to be a killer?” he licks his dried-up lips, the wounds weighing on him. “You’re a beast, Frank. A wild creature with no self-control, bloodthirsty, and—and inhumane.”

Frank was right, but Matt’s pride would never take any help from Frank Castle, he’s a murderer, a cold-blooded killer, and men like him have no place roaming the streets of New York. Matt tries to walk away from Frank, he could feel the blood drip into his waist, his head dizzy. Before he could even reach a meter away from Frank he feels the pull of the earth and drops into the cement floor, out cold. 

“Dumbass,” Frank spat.

—

To Frank Castle, pain and suffering is a weapon. 

Pain is the bullet to the head of a wife beater, a pedophile, a human trafficker, and any other demented fuck that helps in spreading crime in his city. He sniffs in the scent, it’s nauseating, the smell of garbage and piss, the smell of dead bodies piled in a heap for the cops to find. The blood pooled on his boots, painting them red. He reloads the gun, pulling on the lever that locks the bullet in the barrel, ready for the trigger. 

“Please, man. I have a wife and two kids,” the bald man begged. His shirt was soaked in blood, a bullet grazed his hip. He walks backward achingly, his back hitting the wall. “Fuck, man I swear I don't know anything ‘bout this! ”the man kneels in front of Frank, his hands together like he’s praying. 

Pain is the bullet that ends all suffering. 

Bang!

The man falls on the concrete, blood dripping out of his skull. Frank wipes the blood splatter on his face with his sleeve. He takes the pistol and slides it into the holster on his thigh. He grabs the man’s sleeve and pulls him into the heap. No loose ends. 

Frank takes his rifle and leaves. Taking the rooftops so the cops won’t see him. His body is sore, but it was never a hindrance. He sees a red blur across the building. The Devil himself, running from a bunch of men. Frank notices the Devil walking strangely, a hand on his left to cover a bleeding wound. 

He takes the sniper rifle and aims it at the four men searching for the masked vigilante. He reloads the rifle, and one by one the men drop dead. The Devil was clueless as to where the bullets came from. He walks over to the wounded man, lumped over the side of a rooftop wincing in pain. 

Frank had always admired the Devil’s determination, always standing back up after a fight, the line he wouldn’t cross, it amused Frank in a way. He liked to toy with it, always putting the red vigilante in positions where his moral code is tested. 

You know you’re one bad day away from becoming like me. 

Frank once told him, and he guessed it wasn’t true. Despite how hard the world hit him, he never crossed that line. That’s why when the Devil ended up face down on the concrete floor he took his body into his shoulder. Carrying his body to the only place he knew would understand the situation. To the person that knew the creed of pain and suffering. 

He stands in front of the wooden door, the door was locked. Not his first instinct to knock, because he knew he would always be let in. He knocked on the door, no answer. He knocked louder, banging on the door, the sounds echoing throughout the hallway.

“Jesus Christ, people will hear you,” you said, answering the door. 

— 

To you, pain and suffering is a curse. The curse that binds people to hospital beds for years, slowly rotting into the sheets as more and more medicine gets pumped into their veins. The curse that brings people into the emergency room, stabbed my knives, with broken knees, amputated fingers, and gunshot wounds through bone and muscle. 

You earn money from pain and suffering. Doctor’s fees from people you know can’t even afford it. You always wanted to give them pro-bono, but you weren't loaded like that. That’s why when injured vigilantes were involved, everyone in the New York underground knew your number. 

You had known people like Maya Lopez, Misty Knight, Ben Reilly, Ty Johnson, and Tandy Bowen alongside other masked heroes. That’s why when The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen arrived at your door four months ago you didn’t second guess your decision to help him. To you, helping these people would absolve you of being complicit in the suffering of innocent people in the hospital. 

“Got your number from Spider-man, hope you don’t mind,” he said, sprawled on your kitchen table covered in blood. His muscular body contracted from the pain as you sewed his wounds shut. You never truly cared about forming connections with your clients, it was more of a get-patched-up-and-leave type of way. 

He would often flirt with you whenever he came by, his dimples forming under his mask whenever he smiled or laughed. “Don’t worry Doc’ I’m a big boy,” he said, smiling at you. The smile quickly faded when you dug into his skin to retrieve the bullets on his bicep, a groan leaving his lips. You tried not to think about it, but he's pretty cute. 

On one night, a man banged on your door, you rushed to meet a shadow drenched in blood as if it was raining blood from the sky, a white skull on his chest. His hoarse voice groaned as you took him into your kitchen. Multiple bullet wounds, and gashes on his chest, in your personal opinion a person with that many injuries would've ended up on the morgue. 

“Did you fall into a meat grinder? What the hell,” you said. You tried your best to patch him up but he needed some blood transfusions. 

“Check the bag,” he groaned. Inside were bags of blood from the hospital, all type O, what the fuck. 

He stayed in your house for two nights, you checked his vitals every hour to make sure he was still alive. This hasn’t happened before, you’ve never had a client that was on the brink of death. It was always some minor injury, but this man managed to wake up and stand after two days to leave. 

You found a bundle of one hundred dollar bills in your mailbox the next day. 

—

“Bring him to the couch,” you said. You took Matt’s body as Frank carried his legs, you took his limp body into the sofa, a deep wound on the torso, an easy fix for you at this point. It has been months since you first met the two men in your apartment. You’ve spent multiple nights helping them, in your apartment, or Matt’s, or Frank’s bunker. You were technically associated with them to the point that you know their real names. 

“The emergency kit is on the kitchen counter.” 

“Got it Doc,” Frank saluted, removing his trench coat and his bulletproof vest, his muscular form bulging through his black shirt. They reeked of blood, you could taste the iron on your tongue. 

Matt’s eyes fluttered, his head turning to the sound of your voice. “Hey,” he said, groaning through the pain. You cut his undershirt open, the wound gushing out blood. You took some gauze to soak the viscous liquid, making sure the clotting starts. 

“Sit your ass down, Red,” Frank ordered. You managed to sew the wound shut, you gave Matt some pain relievers as his eyes fell back into sleep. You let him rest for a bit, covering him in a fleece blanket. You walked towards Frank, a few cuts on his arms, he was already in the middle of sewing some of them before you helped. “Don’t worry about me, it’s nothin’”

“Make sure you don’t die in my kitchen this time,” you said, walking to the kitchen sink to rinse your bloodied hands. You opened your refrigerator to grab a drink. “Want a beer?”

“Sure,” Frank nods.

You took a cold beer from your fridge, the metal caps clanking on the floor. You handed him the bottle, he took a big swig like he was thirsty for water, some liquid falling from the corner of his lips. He sat on a wooden chair, legs spread, the hem of his shirt raising a bit to show a peak of his abdomen. 

Matt soon woke up. Much to your disagreement, taking a beer of his own. He took a seat in your dining area, topless with bandages around his torso. The three of you are looking at each other around the table. “So–what happened tonight?” you asked. 

Matt’s frown was deadset. Frank taking gulps of his second bottle of beer. You were taking sips of your bottle, looking at the heated tension between the two. It was annoyingly anxiety-inducing. “You know, I don’t know what’s the point of talking to you two—I’m a physician, not a therapist.” 

“You need to stay away from him,” Matt said, his lips a straight line. “He’s a dangerous person with nothing good going on for his pathetic life.”

“Boohoo! Little catholic boy here feels entitled about being god’s little bitch,” Frank spat. “Is that what you think bitch boy?”

“See? He’s an immature old fuck that thinks the world’s answer to violence is guns and bullets,” Matt said, downing his beer.

“He’s just using his lawyer bullshit on you,” Frank said.

You rolled your eyes, it’s always like this, them bickering. You downed the beer, the bitter taste running through your tongue. You set it down with a loud clunk. The two men halted their bickering. 

“I’m not taking sides but I think both of you are annoying cry babies that should just kiss and make out!” the two men frowned their brows. “You bicker like an old couple—the two of you need to suck it up because, at the end of the day, the two of you leave a trail of blood in this city that I clean!” you shouted.“You know how many people end up in the emergency room thanks to you two, I don’t even keep count of them anymore.”

Matt called for your name, to apologize or something, but you took another bottle of beer and gulped on the bubbly drink. Instead of talking you took his lips to yours, the bitter taste of his mouth shared with yours. His hands come to your neck, fingers wrapping around the flesh as his tongue meets yours. You smell his clean shampoo mixing with the alcohol, he smelled like a man who took hygiene seriously.

You pull back to walk towards Frank, bending down to kiss him, pressing on his shoulder with your hands to guide you. The bitter taste of both of your mouths intoxicates you. He grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling you in more. He smelled of cheap soap and gunpowder. You pulled away to catch them frozen, feet glued to the floor, aghast.

“See,” you rubbed your hands. “Not hard at all.” 

Frank was biting his lip chuckling, his fingers massaging his lip. He pulled you to his lap, kissing you harder, his hands falling to your ass. Your hands run through his dark hair, his stubble pricking your face. You moaned from the contact, Matt’s enhanced senses making the sound echo in his head. He hesitated but his groin turned to the noises you made. Frank’s lips fall to your neck, nibbling on the skin eliciting more lewd noises from you. 

“See this red?” he said. “This little slut likes it.”

“Play with his ear, he likes it,” Matt ordered. Frank hadn’t known that.

“He also likes it when I do this,” he pinches your nipples, and you shudder from the slight pain. The two men didn’t know that you had experiences of having sex with them on different occasions. “So you’re a little whore huh, you do this to all of your clients?”

“No—,” you gasped. “Just you two.”

Matt chuckled. Frank had set you on his lap so that you were facing Matt, his hands playing with both of your nipples as he left purple hickeys all over your neck. Matt had knelt in front of you palming your growing erection. The ache in your groin grows from the lack of release. Tonight these men offer you more pain and suffering but in ways that elicit nothing but pleasure. 

He takes your trousers off leaving you with nothing but your shirt, finally something to ease the pain. Matt stood to open his pants, his thick cock standing tall, the hairs neatly trimmed. “Take his dick inside your mouth,” Frank whispered, while he stretched your legs open so his fingers could tease your hole. He took his fingers to your mouth making it wet.

Matt’s hands ran through your hair, his tip teasing your swollen lips. As you took his length into your mouth, Frank's finger entered your hole curling inside drawing out muffled sounds from your mouth. You were quickly bent over by Frank, his head in between your ass cheeks licking and fingering your hole, while your head was bobbing up and down on Matt’s cock. 

Frank smacked your ass so hard it left a red print as he continued to toy with your rear. Matt groaned as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. Frank pulled you back with your hair, popping Matt’s cock out with a string of saliva. It was painful the way they carried you, but in some sick twist of events, it turned you on even more. 

“My turn,” Frank said, as he takes your mouth to his sex, you engulf his thick uncut cock, your nose hitting his unkempt hair taking in his scent. Matt bent down to toy with your hole, curling and stretching two fingers inside you stimulating your prostate. You were turning your lips as you sucked on Frank’s cock, a hoarse groan leaving his mouth as he grabbed onto your hair tightly. 

Matt stroked your cock as he moaned, eating you out with his wet tongue and playing with the rim of your hole. Frank took control of your mouth, fucking into it like you’re his sex toy, his cocking hitting the roof of your mouth at a constant speed. Frank could feel his climax coming so he pulls out leaving you a wet mess next to Matt. 

“Can I fuck you?” Matt asked. You nod, taking them into your bedroom. 

Frank undressed and took a seat on the small sofa chair in the corner of the room, stroking his hard cock. You were on all fours on the bed, facing Frank. His eyes glued to you as he stroked. Matt lubes your hole before slowly pressing his cock into your hole. You gasped as he sheathed into you. Frank smirked, this turned him on even more, his large arms contracting as he stroked his cock.

Matt started to fuck you slowly, his hips slapping your ass. He started to let out guttural moans, his hips becoming rigid as he gripped onto your waist, his nails digging into your skin. He bends down to kiss your neck, rutting into you, his hard thrusts ramming into you. “I’m close,” he moaned. He jerks your cock to the point that you yelp out, cum shooting out of your cock as he continues to jerk his hips before he emptied inside you, a deep groan leaving his lips as his cum fills you. You two collapsed on the bed, his body weight on top of you. 

“Move over Red,” Frank said, looming over you as Matt moves over before Frank mounts you. Matt’s cum formed a slippery lube that made Frank’s cock ease its way as it thrusts. Your body was still weak from your high. He grabs onto your hair as he ruts into you, continuing his hard pace against your body. “You like that?” he said, stroking your sore cock back to hardness. 

“Ye–yes, fuck,” you moaned. 

Matt was at the edge of the bed, soothing your hair as he peppered kisses all over your face. The bed creaked as Frank humped you, veins popping across his arms as his grip on you tightened, you’re sure it would leave marks. He pulled out, leaving you to gasp from the sudden lack of fullness. He sits back on the headboard of your bed, legs sprawled as he gestures for you to ride him. You mount yourself on his hardness, sitting on his thick and hairy thighs. Matt sits on the edge of the bed, his erection coming back from the sight of you two. 

“Take it like a good boy,” Frank praises. You hold onto his chest as you feel the hardness enter you, some of Matt’s cum leaking out. You take Frank’s lips, you now realize how abrasive his stubble was. You move your hips around and around, Frank lets out curses here and there. He pulls your head back, littering your neck with more marks, his fingers find your nipples, teasing them to draw out more moans from you.

Franks sees Matt on the side, his hard already leaking precum just from watching you take Frank’s cock. He calls for Matt to come to you two, to join back in. You feel Matt’s fingertips on your skin, your body is now so filled with stimulation, his mere touch driving you wild. You feel his erection on your back, his lips attached to your shoulders. He takes his leaking cock and presses into your hole, the size alongside Frank’s was a tight fit, your breathing quickens from all the pressure. The two men made sure to guide you and praise you as you take both of their lengths. 

You cry out from the sensation. Frank takes your lips to stifle your cries, tears fall from your eyes as your tongues touch, and Matt inches to join your kiss. The three of you kiss into the pain, The two men slowly moving inside you. The pressure was so intense but the arousal overcame, your sex was so hard, leaking so much into Frank’s abdomen. They start to thrust, Matt could feel his sensitive frenulum rub on Frank’s, it made his eyes roll back, his senses overflowing. 

All of you reeked of sex, the sounds of slapping skin and wet tongues fighting for dominance against the grunts and moans. The constant rocking was making the bed hit the wall, the mattress moved as if there were an earthquake. You were all covered in sweat, hair sticking onto skin, Hands gripping the wooden headboard, fingertips roaming skin, and tongues lashing on each other. 

Everything felt like a blur to you, you were being rocked back and forth like a playground swing, your core sore from the fucking, and there were pairs of hands all over you touching your most sensitive spots. You could feel the climax, creeping into your body tingling your coccyx to the highest peak of your spine. You felt their erratic thrusts, Frank was a groaning mess under you, his neck all red and his face flushed. Matt was a noisy mess on your ear, cursing and calling your name like a prayer, his arm wrapped around your waist as he fucked. 

You were at your peak, arousal overflowed from your body into theirs. Their cum filling into you. You all yelped out in pleasure as you rode your highs. Frank dug his hands into your thighs as Matt hid his forehead on your shoulder, rutting their fill into you. The next few minutes came to you in flashing lights, like fireworks spraying colored lights all over the room. 

You woke up the next day to two heavy bodies at your sides. Matt’s arms around your waist with your head resting on Frank’s chest. All of you reeked of sweat and cum. As you turned you saw Matt’s eyes flutter, his long lashes flicking as his golden eyes beamed under the sunlight. 

“Sorry about last night,” he whispered. 

“Why? I had fun,” you said, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. 

“You sure?” he said, as he rubbed his thumbs on your cheeks. 

“Pretty sore but nothing a pain reliever won’t fix,” you said. 

“I guess you’re right, making out fixes everything,” Frank said, his voice deeper. He joins you and Matt, pressing kisses all over your shoulders. Matt takes this as a sign to kiss you all over your neck, their hands snaking all over your body. “What’s good for breakfast around here?” Frank said in between kisses.

“There’s a good diner across the street,” Matt said, leaving soothing kisses on the marks they left on your neck. Your body was so sore and painful, but these men made sure to make it up to you. You woke up last night to them cleaning you up, Matt wiping you with a damp cloth and Frank rummaging through your closet to grab something for you to wear. Despite their rough lifestyles, they made sure you were taken care of. Maybe a little less pain and suffering next time though. 

“But first,” you said, pulling away from them.” Shower.” 

“Now this goes—wait, no…”

Noir tilts his head back, signing deeply to himself as he tucks the gems into his pocket before jumping down from the building and landing in front of the kid. He was a thief, not some cruel person who’s going to leave this poor kid stuck. “Kid—“

“I got it! I got it! Just have to—AH!”

The kid only get himself tangled into the web even more, causing the thief to roll his eyes, using his own claws to cut thought the webbing like it was nothing. The little spider looks around in surprise and smiles under his mask. “Hey, that worked!”

“Indeed it did.” Noir mocks him back, rolling his eyes from underneath his goggles.

“Now, I’m turning you in—!”

Noir holds his hand up to cut the kid off, pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh. “Kid, we’ve done this too many times. We all know that you’ll never be able to get me so just let it go and go after someone who is actually causing harm.” He give the kid a pointed look before using his grappling hook to get back to the roof top and continue his way back home. Only for the kid to follow after him, he expects himself to get into a fight with the kid again, knowing that he would win the fight and end things quickly.

“Wait! Look, I get that what you’re doing isn’t entirely dangerous nor are you harming anyone but, why do it? Why steal when you can just get a job?”

Noir’s eyes widen and bursts out laughing, shaking his head as the kid stares back confused. “Get a job? Kid, I did have a job but, no matter where I worked it was never enough to survive. Not everyone has an easy life and if you have to take some risks then take it. You can try and stop me all you want, kid. But, it won’t make things better.”

The kid stays silent, taking in his words as Noir brushed past him and makes his way towards the other side of the roof.

“Wait!”

Noir sighs, hand on his hip and looks over his shoulder to see the kid standing his distance. “I’ll stop coming after you.”

That causes him to raise a brow, confused and surprised by the kids sudden words, before he could ask why the kid speaks up. “If you teach me how to fight.”

Of course.

That’s how the two have been getting along after a year of teaching the kid how to defend himself, he was new to the whole hero thing and Noir was the only one who was able to teach him a thing or two. It was rare for him to connect with people who weren’t trying to kill him or let alone take him to prison for stealing something valuable of theirs.

Currently both of the two are sitting on top of a clock tower, the kid eating some pizza while Noir sips his morning coffee, watching the sunrise after spending all night training the kid on how to land his punches. “Isn’t it too early for you to be eating that stuff?” He mumbled out, getting the kids attention who turns to him with a stuffed mouth full of pizza.

“…no?”

Noir chuckles at the kid. “Don’t come to me if you start getting heartburn.” He mumbled around his coffee cup before taking another sip, focusing on the view ahead. The two spend most mornings like this, eating ‘breakfast’ together and enjoying each others company. The kid had stopped trying to get him arrested and each time Noir was caught stealing he always made it out without an issue.

He’s known the kid for a year now and he’s grown onto him. The last time he was around someone he cared about he ended up losing everything and always pushed people away from getting too close, but the kid always found his way back into his life. Noir breaths softly, glancing at the kid who had just finished his box of pizza and closed the lid while whipping the grease from his fingers onto his suit, causing the older man to grimace at his manners.

“All done, so what’s the training today?” The kids voice is full of enthusiasm which causes Noir to chuckle. “No more training.” He sets his coffee cup to the side and stands from sitting on the edge of the clock tower, towering over the kid who tilts his head back, staring at his second mentor. “You’re ready to do things on your own and I am done here.”

“Wait what?” The kid tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean your done here? Are you leaving?”

Noir placed a gentle hand on the kids shoulder. “You’ll do fine on your own, I taught you nearly everything I know. I’m clearly not needed anymore and I have business to attend somewhere else.” Noir was reaching a deadline with his stay here with the kid and had to move onto his next task, wanting to avoid bringing the kid anymore trouble that he’s already dealing with alone in this city.

The little spider before him doesn’t know how to react to this situation, clearly not happy with the outcome but knowing that he can’t do anything about it. “Will you be back?” He asks.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Noir shrugs his shoulders, sighing deeply to himself. “I don’t know…” He really didn’t, one moment he’s here and the next he’s gone. That was his plan and always has been.

Noir can see how bummed out the kid is and can’t help but, pull the kid into a gentle hug. “I’m ever around I’ll make sure to meet you. Perhaps during one of our usual chases.” He gets the kid to chuckle at his humor before the two pull apart. He’s staring at the kid with a sad smile, with a clawed index finger he bops the kid on the nose or where he thinks his nose is at due to him wearing the mask.

“Take care of yourself kid.”

“I’m not a kid…”

Noir chuckled. “You’ll always be a kid.” He picks up his empty coffee cup, making his way over to the ledge of the clock tower, facing his back towards the kid before looking over his shoulder to give the kid one last advice. “Don’t let anyone tell you what you can’t do, remember that.”

With that he jumps off the tower, leaving the kid on his own to continue on his own path.

Noir already planned to leave this place and couldn’t delay it any longer before he finds him. Upon arriving to his apartment, he slips through the window undetected from the neighbors and slips off his tinted goggles along with his gloves, letting out a deep exhale as he looks around the semi empty apartment that he was only planning to use for a short period of time.

He toss the gloves to the side and keeps the rest of his uniform on as he works around the apartment, collecting certain things to take with him while the other stuff he stuffed inside a trash bag, clearly not needing that stuff any longer and tossing it out the window, where it landed down below and into the dumpster.

Once the apartment is fully empty he reaches inside the bag he was planning on taking with him, unzipping the front pocket and pulling out a silver bracelet. He stares at the blank screen, knowing that once he turns it on he will be traced, only giving him a few minutes to plan his escape. He zips up his bag and slips on his goggles again along with his gloves, slipping the bracelet over his wrist and with his index finger he taps on the blank screen, watching it turn on, activating.

“Five minutes.” He whispers to himself as he quickly types in Earth-42502, watching as a portal opens before him.

Adjusting his goggles, he takes a step forward only to freeze in place when another portal opens behind him. “The hell?” He looks over his shoulder, eyes widening under the goggles as a flash of red and blue zips towards him. He doesn’t have time to think as a hand wraps around his throat, knocking him back into the other earth.

The two are free falling through the air, grunting as his hand finds the others wrist and glares. He’s quick to use his strength, kicking him off as they continue to fall. “That was faster than usual.” He calls out, getting the other spiders attention who glared under his mask.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive to Earth-42502, portal opening onto the roof top of Oscorp Tower. Noir lands gracefully, but is quick to jump out of the way when the other spider lands where he once stood.

“Here I thought I’d never find you.”

Noir remembers that voice too well, remembering the days that the two would wake up next to each other.

“Seems like your desperate to find me.” Noir speaks up, taking cautious steps back as his eyes follow Miguels large figure. The man showed off his talons, taking dangerous steps forward as if stalking his prey.

“Let me guess, you were waiting until I activated this little guy, huh?” He raised his left arm to show off the bracelet he wore. The same bracelet that once belonged to Miguel and that he was able to snatch from during the time he was running away from Miguel. “Lyla’s not good at tracking.” He adds with a grin on his face.

“At least she found you before you can even open a portal to this earth. An earth that you don’t belong too.” Miguels voice is full of irritation, tired of having to chance Noir from different universes each time he disappeared off the radar.

“I know where I belong.”

Noirs voice drops down to a serious one, glaring under his own goggles as he takes steps back, slowly stepping on top of the ledge. “I’m not going back to that place, not after what you did.” He spits out.

“I was only trying to fix things.” Miguel sneers.

“By destroying a universe for our daughter? A daughter that wasn’t ours.”

“She was!”

“She belonged to another version of us and not us.” He points between himself and Miguel. The two have been chasing each other since day one, Miguels cannon affected him badly, causing him to lose his own child. Miguel had tried to find ways to fix it by going to other universe in hopes of getting their lives back together again only to mess things up badly and to cause a whole universe to be destroy. Their constant arguing grew worse as the days went on the two couldn’t be in a room together without trying to tear each other apart, leading to a divorce between the two. Well, a divorce wasn't really an option due to their universe being gone and instead was considered a break up between the two without having to sign he paper work.

In the public’s eye they were seen as married still. For them, they were separated.

Noir didn’t start stealing until after he stole Miguel’s bracelet, finding a way to stop Lyla from tracking him down and using it to escape from the man he loved. Giving himself a new life, stealing from every universe and only causing trouble for Miguel due to the constant anamolies being placed in the wrong universe, only giving the man extra work on getting it fixed.

You could say that it was Noirs way of showing revenge for all of the times Miguel blamed him for trying. Earning himself a reputation and treating it like a game.

“Y/n—“

“I don’t have time for you, right now.” Y/n hissed out, turning around and jumping off the building, getting Miguel to panic all of sudden and run after him, jumping off and diving down to wrap his arm around Y/n’s waist and using his talons to grip onto the side of the building also using his webs to hold on.

“What—?”

“I’m not letting you go that easy.” Said Miguel, grinning under his mask as Y/n’s eyes widen at the realization.”Don’t you dare!” Y/n uses his own claws in a threatening way only for Miguel to ignore his threatens, getting Lyla to open a portal back to their earth and quickly dropping his (ex) husband down the portal. Only for Y/n to land inside Miguels little anomaly prison as one of his traps is set around him, caging him inside a tight space as he tried to use his claws to claws his way through.

It wasn’t until Miguel drops down in front of him. The two could easily be face to face if it wasn’t for the barrier stopping them. “You’ll stay here until everything is fixed and then you can scream and yell all you want.” Said Miguel a hand on his own hip as his mask dissolves away, showing his real face to Y/n who frowned. “You can keep me here all you want, but I will always find a way out.” He was testing him.

This wouldn’t be the first time that he was trapped under Miguels watch, he’s escaped plenty of times before and he will do it again.

Miguel chuckled deeply. “Oh, mi amor. This time it’s different, because I’m going to make sure that I have a close eye on you twenty-four seven.” He looks over his shoulder to nod at one of the spiders from his society who turns around to type away on their computer. All of sudden Y/n is transformed to Miguels lab, appearing in the room in a flash as he yelps in surprise.

“Jesus…” He breaths out in surprise a hand over his beating heart as he falls back onto his bottom. “A heads up would have been nice.”

“Stop being annoying and be quiet.” Said Miguel, circling him like prey and focusing back on his work. Y/n grins, reaching up to push his goggles up and over his head. “Listen, cabeza de mierda. You brought me here in order to keep an eye on me, but never did you say that I couldn’t annoy you.”

“I—“

“So, I won’t stop talking your ass off until you let me go.”

Miguel stares down at his husband, knowing the man well enough to know that he was keeping that promise. The taller spider sighs in annoyance, already regretting his choice as Y/n grins at him and leans back against his elbows and crossing his leg over the other, lying down as he groans out loudly.

“Who would have thought, the two of us together again. After a year? Damn, it’s already been a year, I remember you slamming into a wall when chasing me through Earth-6574. God, the anger in your eyes was so satisfying!”

Miguel tried to focus on his work, ignoring the mans words as he continues on, rambling on about anything that will annoy Miguel until the man gives in.

The conversation went for hours, with Y/n changing positions every few minutes, one minute he’s lying down and the next he’s sitting. Another time he’s doing a handstand in the small space he’s trapped in or using his claws to try and penetrate the force field around him only to fail. He didn’t stop until he suddenly grew bored, lips sealed as Miguel finally takes in the peaceful silence, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“There it is.”

Miguel snaps his head towards Y/n, already knowing his plan.

“Enjoyed your five seconds of peace and quiet? Because, I was just getting started.”

Miguel wants to shout, opening his mouth to throw back an insult only for him to be disturbed by the sound of people entering his lab, getting his attention. Y/n also looks over to the group of teens approaching them, one specific teen getting the thief’s attention as he narrows his eyes, focusing on the curly hair and dark skin until his eyes widen in realization.

“Miles?”

Even though he’s only known the kid for a year and had trained him on the side, he knew who the kid was under the mask, but never said anything. Not wanting to freak the kid out. Whenever the kid wasn’t hiding behind the mask, Y/n would keep a close eye on the kid, making sure that he was focusing on school and attending his family diners and parties, somehow feeling responsible for the kids disappearance each time he skipped classes or lunch only to meet up with enthusiasm, excited to learn something new from the thief that the teen befriend somehow.

It didn’t take long for the platform to lower, reaching the ground and getting the teens attention. Before Miles could introduce himself or hand Miguel the empanada that he had in hand. The kids eyes fall onto Y/n, narrowing his eyes a bit. “Noir?”

This gets everyone’s attention, including Miguel who snaps his head in Y/n’s direction with a knowing glare that he knew too well.

“Hey kiddo!” Noir waves at Miles with a wide grin on his face, side eyeing Miguel as he feels his burning glare. Miles doesn’t think twice to quickly rush over and jump onto the platform, worry in his eyes as he ignores Miguel’s surprised look along with Gwen’s panicked looked and Hobie’s grin. The teenager was too focused on Noir to care about what the others were thinking about his actions, his palms against the force field that separated the two as he tries to find a way to get him out. “Why are you here? How are you here?” Miles began to ask as Y/n looked at Miles with a fond look and faint smile.

“Easy kid, I’m alright.” He tries to reassure the kid.

“Get him out.” Miles blurts out, turning to Miguel with a frown on his face. The sudden demand shocks the others, but not Y/n who can only smirk over Miles shoulder and towards Miguel who frowned deeply. “I’d listen to the kid.” He whispers, loud enough for his ex to hear.

Miguel grunts in disapproval and had no choice but to do as told as gets red of the red field around him, finally setting him free as Y/n stands from his spot, stretching his arms in the air like a cat and getting caught by surprise when Miles hugs the other man. “Whoa! Easy kid, I’m alright.” He reassured him, giving his back a soft pat.

His actions don’t go unnoticed as Miguel watched the two interact with each other, clearly reading the signs that Y/n had claimed this kid as his own, treating him with care and respect, knowing that if he comes between the two, Y/n wouldn’t hesitate to fight back like a feral cat. It’s happened before and it won’t stop him from doing it again.

“You said you had to leave.” Miles speaks up, getting Y/n attention who sighs deeply. “About that…” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously and giving Miles an awkward smile.

“Noir isn’t from your universe, he belongs in mine. He was caught breaking the rules and had no choice but to bring him here. He’s a slippery one and likes to get away, so letting him out of his cage wasn’t a good idea.” Said Miguel, getting an eye roll from Y/n and placing his hand on his hip. “Don’t be so dramatic, I’ve gotten away from it many times and you didn’t seem to mind.” Y/n said back, making his way around the platform and taking in Miguels work.

He takes notice of the videos and pictures of them both together along with this their daughter, causing a small sad sigh to escape his lips knowing that Miguel hasn’t gotten over the death of their daughter. Y/n was the only one who was able to move on from everything but Miguel, he couldn’t blame him. Everyone coped different with death and took their own pace in recovery. With a clawed finger he turns the pictures off, glancing over to Miguel who was watching him this whole time with a sorrowful look on his face.

Y/n quickly turns away, refusing to look at the man he once loved.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Gwen points between Y/n and Miguel, approaching the duo that stood before her, getting Y/n to smirk widely. “Actually were married.” He quotes out, getting a surprise look from both Gwen and Miles. “Divorced.” Miguel added, hands on his hips as Y/n pouts at his words.

“Divorced? Really, you two would look cool together.” Said Miles. “Adopt me?”

Y/n breaks out in laughter, throwing his head back as he laughs at Miles words. He jumps offer the platform and takes miles into his arms, pulling the kid close to him and squeezing him tight. “How did my ward become so adorable? If I could adopt you then I would!”

“Wait, your ward?” Miguel asks, clearly not likening this.

“Yep!”

“He’s taught me a thing or two.” Said Miles and with a proud smile on this face he extends his hand, opening his palm to show Noir the hard-drive that he stole from Miguel, getting a very proud Y/n to hug him again. “My child is learning!” He cheers in excitement while Miguel growls. “No, no, I refuse to let you take in a spider. You are enough trouble, let alone having a kid do it too?”

“If it wasn’t for me the kid wouldn’t have gotten better on his skills. I taught him how to defend himself and perhaps get away with a thing or two…” Even though Miles was suppose to be his universe hero and protector, he couldn’t help but, teach the kid a thing or two when it comes towards breaking and entering. Teaching Miles how to sneak back inside his room or dorm without being noticed and to pick on locks in case of emergencies.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, mumbling to himself in disappointment. “No puedo mas, no puedo mas.”

Y/n rolled his eyes. “So dramatic.” He mumbled as he listens to Miguel ramble on while Miles is being saluted by Hobie, admiring the kids new skills form a very well known thief in many universes.

“Did you know that he stole this guitar for me?” Said Hobie, pointing over his shoulder where his guitar was strapped over his shoulder. “Mad genius.”

Miles laughs. “I don’t like stealing, but Noir once helped me with getting my mom a present for Mother’s Day. He stole a necklace for me, nothing too expensive but also nice.” Said the teen. Clearly he was nervous and ashamed for it when he first got handed the jewel from the known thief only for the anxiety and worry to fade away when he say how happy his mother was about the gift.

His father questioned him and all Miles told his dad was that he worked hard for it.

Rain pours tonight in Hell’s Kitchen. You and your boyfriend are drenched in the rain huddling towards some shade. You were on a date and were on the way home, people in the streets running with briefcases on their heads or fumbling to open their umbrellas. Matt was giggling while running his hands through his wet hair. You giggled too, you were both on a high from the date. He took you to his favorite place in the city, a small Chinese restaurant that served amazing dumplings, and his favorite bar, Josie’s, to grab some beer and play billiards. 

“You’re right, we should’ve taken a cab,” he laughed, that cheeky laugh that accentuated his dimples. “You could stay with me for a bit,” he pauses. “Until the rain stops - I mean.”

“Sure, I’d like that a lot actually, my socks are wet and it’s making me so uncomfortable,” you smiled. He takes your hand and laces your fingers together, his calloused hands meeting yours. You blush at the gesture, he whisks you to him as you walk towards his apartment. 

This man, you were outside his door and his hands were cupped to your cheeks, his lips pressed on yours. His kiss becomes feverish, your arms wrapped around his waist as his left-hand rests on your neck. He was taller than you so your neck started to sore from looking up, you didn’t mind because this was making your cheeks burn so bad. He pins you to his door, not losing contact with your lips. He takes his keys from his back pocket and unlocks the door with a swift movement. 

You fumble on your way in, pushing your shoes off and your wet socks. He removes his black coat and tosses it to the side, you pull your shirt off as he signals for the couch. You lay down while unbuttoning your trousers. He stands on top of you as he pulls his belt off with one hand. You help him unbutton his drenched white shirt. You both get all buttons open and he pulls his shirt off. Your eyes wander on his naked torso. You never noticed the necklace he wore, it was a thin black leather strap with a small golden cross. You pulled up to kiss him again, his tongue meeting yours. He starts to trail kisses on your neck, you shudder from the erotic pleasure. You lay back again on the couch as he starts to leave wet kisses on your torso, your nipples given more love than the rest. His fingers find the hem of your boxers and he pulls the garment down, your cock hard from all the kisses. He kisses the skin around your sex teasingly, you run your hands through his hair. He takes your legs and rests them on his broad shoulders as he takes you in his mouth, you moaning marveling at his back muscles contracting. He was unreal, a man carved by god, and he was pleasuring you. 

“Fuck, Matt,” you moaned, and your tip was hitting the roof of his throat. You were almost pulling on his hair, Matt didn’t care about the slight stinging on his scalp, the pain only turned him on more. “Not yet, love, we’re not yet done here.”

He stands up to get some condoms and lube. You felt bare on his couch, well you were, but the lack of contact gave you a sense of shame. After a few seconds, he was back, a roll of condoms and a small bottle of lube in hand. He takes some lube to his two fingers to prepare you. It was cold at first, his thick fingers feeling your tight muscle, he went deeper until you moaned. He takes more lube to put on his erection. For the lack of a better word you found his dick so beautiful, it was thick, not so long, but a sizable amount, cut with a pink head, the base neatly trimmed. He bent down to insert his hardness and you both moaned from the contact, your arms found themselves wrapped around his neck. 

Through the lights of nearby billboards, the gold cross on his neck shimmered dangling above you. There was something so sensual about the act. The way your bodies, glistened with sweat, would move towards each other in an act of lust. Moans, sounding like the hymn of angels in this small apartment. And the cross, there in front of you like in the middle of the church. You close your eyes in a bit of prayer. You whispered the lord’s name and some profanities, using his name in vain. Matt went back to continue to feast on your neck, the gold cross resting on your chest cold. His hand pumps your cock with the same rhythm as his. You could feel yourself coming to a climax. 

He leaves your neck to sit up, your legs held at his side. You could see the way his abdomen moved to thrust his hips into you. His thrusts became erratic, and your cock was close to letting go. You quickly grabbed the cross from his neck, pulling him back to you as you kissed. The kiss is hot with wanton lust, almost sloppy. Moans stifled in your mouths.

And then you two, at the same time, let your pleasures erupt. He fills the condom while yours shoots into your abdomen. His thrusts stop while kissing you, the quick rising and falling of your chests slowing. He kisses your temples and collapses on your shoulder, his full body weight pressing into yours. 

“Babe, you’re still inside me,” you catch your breath. 

“Give me a few minutes,” he whispers, slowly drifting to sleep.