#but all of this comes from the fact that it was fucking foggy today and I couldn't see where the new bus dropped me

[bluesummersq]

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[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [2] | Aemond Targaryen

Part Two

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop ;o

Word Count: (I'm... sorry?) 7.1k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! UNEDITED!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? power struggle both in bed and out, reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, degradation, Aemond is a fucking asshole but he's sexy, talk of masturbation. as always, let me know if I have missed anything!

Author's note: Entirely unedited because here I am posting this at 2:30AM having just finished writing this bad boy even though I have to be up for work at 7:30. yay :/. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love on this series so far! I'm thinking there could potentially be some more to come. Reader ain't done with her revenge so soon. I will reblog with the taglist tomorrow! or today I guess--after I've had some sleep! I would also love to hear your thoughts!! So pls hmu in my inbox to chat abt things xoxo kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Part One

Distancing yourself from Aemond was not a difficult task. You’d barely see much of him aside from the meals you shared and your occasional stroll through the gardens anyway. It still felt odd, knowing that you were avoiding him when only days ago you had been grasping at whatever crumb of his attention you could reach. 

His existence was ghostly. Always talked about but never seen and it made it remarkably easy to ignore him. You spent most days between your chambers and Helaena’s, idly passing time with embroidery and small talk. But you were distracted - your mind foggy and your usual grace and poise replaced by clumsiness and a constant flustered jumpiness.

It was always on your mind. Always. 

Your mind was a problem of its own and as soon as you lay down amongst your sheets for a night of sleep, it took you back to the memory of your name lewdly falling from Aemond’s lips. As days had passed, you could have convinced yourself it was a hallucination - an odd dream of some sort.  

And while it had become muscle memory for your hand to find your soaked sex at the midnight hour, the scene of your alluring husband in the throes of pleasure bringing you to a quick peak, the first two nights had been marred with silent tears of humiliation, hurt, betrayal–jealousy and anger. 

Maybe it was for the best that you had not seen the face of the whore in his private chambers. If you had any idea of who she was, you would have had half a mind to have sought her out and suffocated her yourself.

You had to remind yourself that if she were, in fact, a whore then you could hardly let yourself seriously consider choking a woman out for simply doing her job. 

Frustration was an understatement. No matter how hard you tried, there was nothing that you could do which would calm the mix of emotions inside you. You considered declaring Aemond’s infidelity at dinner–or even at the small feast that was held two nights ago. But it wouldn’t be enough and it was too early to show your hand. 

If you had come out and made it known to all at Court, nothing would happen. At all. 

Most husbands take on whores and mistresses. And despite the pain and hurt of it that the wives suffer, it’s simply accepted as the way things are. Men are innately animals and so they must fuck like it too. So nobody would bat an eyelid at Aemond. Instead, you knew that they’d turn it on you in one way or another. 

On the sixth day, you were surprised when Ser Tunsley knocked on your door to announce your husband’s presence. When Aemond took a seat at the small table where you usually shared your breakfast, he barely spared you more than an inquisitive look before telling your handmaid to bring your breakfasts promptly. 

Aemond leaned back, letting his legs rest comfortable but still maintained his effortlessly flawless posture. He reached for the book that lay forgotten on the side-table, holding it open with one hand and his other arm stretching over the back of the seat beside him, where you sat all tense and surprised. A barely-there frown crossed your face at the foreign gesture and you willed yourself not to think much of it.

You would have fumbled to snatch the book from his hands, if this had been a week earlier. But it wasn’t, and with a curious and conniving sense of calm, you let him read the first page of a story riddled with obscenity and romance. The first couple chapters were perfectly appropriate.

The prince looked at you with a gentle tilt of his head, unmoving aside from . “You have been withdrawn.”

Silence. You were sitting beside him, unable to meet his eye as you usually would, scoffing so softly at his words that he almost mistook it for a cough. 

Aemond, who was far more observant of you than he knew you believed him to be, found that he was bothered by it. Whether it was because of the loss of the devotion that he had always seen in your doe-eyed gaze, or the flippant shift in your attitude, he did not want to know. 

“Have I done something that has bothered you, dear wife?” His eye returned to the book and moved from one side of the page to the other as he read. 

Aemond clearly did not see you watching them on that night. The fact that you had faced no repercussions for sneaking up on him and eavesdropping on such a moment was enough confirmation of that. 

But Aemond’s presence re-ignited the red hot resentment you had for his actions and the hurt that you felt because of him. How any man could seek out the company of his wife for the first time in a week, sit beside her and pretend so shamelessly as if he cared for the repercussions of his own vile actions was beyond you. 

Nonetheless, you forced a polite smile onto your lips and turned slightly to face him better. You let his question linger in the air between you as the maid returned, placing a plate of cheeses, fruits and an assortment of breads on the table in front of you. 

Thanking her, you reached to pour yourself a cup of the sweet vanilla and rose tea that had become your favourite part of your mornings in the Keep. When you answered his question, it was purposefully less than what Aemond was seeking. 

“I have been ill, lord husband,” you murmured. When you rested against the back of the seat, you tensed at the feeling of Aemond’s arm grazing your shoulder. You had forgotten it was there. 

Your reaction to his proximity and while you had initially been shy around him–not so much since you had started your little performance–, you never flinched away from his touch. 

Aemond placed the book down beside him and hummed in thought. He reached over you, to take a piece of fresh bread for his plate and to put some fruit on your plate, his chest pressing against your shoulder and his hair brushing past your nose. 

If you had moved, just an inch, your lips would be against the milky skin of his throat. Despite your disdain for your husband, you could hear the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears and stopped yourself from dragging your fingers through his hair and tracing your lips across his jaw. 

There was an unfamiliar sense of purpose behind what he was doing. It dawned on you that he knew what he was doing. The bread was already on his plate but the son of a bitch placed the fruits piece by piece on your plate, his movements lazy. 

He smelled like lavender, leather and dragon smoke. Like an intoxicating drug that overwhelmed your mind until piety and sin were indiscernible. It was far too easy for you to see Aemond as more godly than just a mere man, to feel the need to worship him in the most sinful ways you could imagine. 

No man in any realms was as strong, as beautiful, as terrifying, as educated as the prince who breathed fire onto your skin. And he was your prince. 

A drop in your stomach was the least of your problems when the image of Aemond enjoying another woman’s passion invaded your thoughts. You wondered if his scent drove her just as mad as it made you and you had the urge to drive a knife through Aemond’s hand for you knew he’d have let her indulge in him. 

But when he looked at you, his violet eye a mask of indifference yet still failing to hide something that you couldn’t for the life of you put into words, you hated that your desire for him burned just as strong as your rage. 

Aemond’s eye met yours, humming in thought as he brought a cherry to his lips and glancing down at your own. He took a bite out of it first and then brought it to your mouth, dragging the open side across your bottom lip. The soft fruit dripped delicately onto your chin and left a stain on your perfect lips. The sight of you with reddened lips, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, shining with an uncorrupted devotion and a pure desire sent his blood rushing. 

The cherry was sweet and chilled, a stark contrast to the darkened, heated want that Aemond watched you with. And again, you had an urge to ignore everything and take what it was that you had been hoping Aemond would give you. You obediently took the cherry into your mouth, holding his gaze, chewing the flesh of the fruit and rolling the pip on your tongue. 

When you looked hard enough into Aemond’s eye, you could see the reflection of yourself morph into a reflection of the unnamed woman and you turned from him, turning away to drop the pip of the cherry onto a napkin. 

Aemond’s hand fell softly to rest on your knee and he only moved back a nudge. You refused to meet his eye but you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he spoke, his voice slightly strained yet still calm and smooth. “I’ll send for a maester.” 

“Thank you,” you pushed the words out of your mouth and nodded towards the food. “You should eat your breakfast, my prince.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow as you rolled your eyes at him and slid back into his previous posture, sitting against the backrest of his own seat. An infuriating grin played on his lips. “Don’t worry about my breakfast. Why did you roll your eyes at me?”

You rolled your eyes again. “As if I cannot call for a maester myself.”

It crossed your mind that you could have told him right now of what you had seen. And the urge to scream at him became so strong you almost did. 

But what would come of it? Not enough. Aemond would only offer you an apology if you were lucky and carry on as if nothing was amiss. Because that is just how it is for husbands–they could cheat and lie all they please to no consequence. And you wanted him to regret the moment he chose to disrespect you. 

You wanted him to suffer for it. To feel as insulted, as embarrassed and as inferior as you have.

So he would suffer. But you had to be patient if you were to make it hurt. 

A thought crossed your mind as Aemond said something you didn’t quite hear, with that unbothered expression he had mastered years ago. 

He didn’t linger long after that. You ate your breakfast in silence, while Aemond, much to your distaste, finished the first chapter of your book. And when he finally left, he took it with him, giving you a knowing smirk as he tucked it under his arm. 

One punch. Surely, you would be entitled to that. 

Initially, the idea of seducing Jason Lannister was a gruesome one. But upon hearing of his prolonged and unbusy presence at King’s Landing, you recognised an opportunity as it presented itself to you. Simply because of pride and ego, there were few men who enjoyed the idea of his wife turning to another man for what they could not provide. 

Alas, if there was any part of Aemond that made him weak, it was his pride and his arrogance. 

And so here you were, enjoying your afternoon tea with the Lannister twin, listening to stories of his life at Casterly Rock. You made sure the house staff had known of Lannister’s presence and that the Kingsguard were well aware of the pot of tea you shared in the Courtyard. Easily within sight of where you knew Aemond was training with Ser Cole and some other men you had no interest in knowing.

For the past thirty minutes, you could feel him watching you. But when you lifted your head to look, pretending to the man across from you that you were interested in watching your husband train, Aemond would turn away. Yet he finally seemed to have finally had enough and you could see him walking over from behind Jason, his shoulders stiffer than usual with a sour expression. 

“This tea,” you covered your mouth gently, letting out the remnants of a laugh that had been pulled from you. If you were being honest, Jason Lannister was turning out to be surprisingly fun company and the smile you had expected to fake ended up being real. Not bothering to look at Aemond, who was much closer now, you held your teacup towards the Lord Lannister with a pretty, sultry smile. “It is incredible–I’ve loved it so much, t’is the only tea I will drink. Have a taste of mine, I insist.”

With a look of blatant excitement, Jason leaned into where you held the cup, fingers grazing yours as he held the cup but never took it out of your hold and took a sip. It was slightly awkward, the way his eyes held onto yours, but you brightened your smile nonetheless. 

Aemond visibly inhaled a sharp breath and cleared his throat, covering the both of you in a dark shade. The prince was looming over Lannister, who never looked away from you even as you peeled your eyes away from him with exaggerated difficulty to meet Aemond’s eye. You dropped your smile so slightly that only Aemond could notice. 

There was a tense, awkward silence that lingered. Lannister’s head tilted ever so slightly and a wave of annoyance ran through you at the cocky tilt of his head regardless of the fact that it was exactly what you needed him to do. The two men stared at each other, Aemond’s typical dark repose and Lannister’s challenging chagrin at the disruption. 

“How nice of you to join us, my prince,” you beamed. “Lord Lannister has been sharing this pot of tea with me. It’s lovely to enjoy some company for once.”

You took pleasure in the way he squared his shoulders at your remark. Lannister snickered but was quick to cover it up with a cough at Aemond’s narrowed eye. 

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Aemond’s voice was sharp. “I happen to have some time on my hands before I take Vhagar to flight, lady wife. Perhaps you would care to join me for a stroll through the gardens?”

Aemond was behind you in a blink, tugging your chair back gently into himself and holding a hand out to help you stand. The air around you became soft lavender and leather and something very Aemond. And despite the slight flutter of your eyelids, you straightened and held strong. 

Weakness would get you nowhere. You were out here for a reason and no matter how strong the pull was, your lust to hurt him back was much stronger. 

You shook your head gently, looking at Jason who seemed to stiffen under the prince’s eye. “What kind of host would I be if I were to abandon Lord Lannister? Considering it was I who invited him to tea. We can enjoy the gardens another time, my prince.”

The fire in Aemond’s eye rivalled Vhagar’s. It gave you a sense of satisfaction that was much unlike yourself and you wondered how he’d burn with rage if you decided to take Jason to your bed. You’d lose everything you had to your name but you knew it would not be difficult to convince yourself that it’d be worth it.

Jason Lannister was no fool. He understood the wrath of the Targaryen prince but he knew that you would never be subjected to the extent of it. As much as Prince Aemond pretended he did not care, the Lords and counsellors of the Red Keep knew that he had his weaknesses. At the end of the day, Aemond would not dishonour himself by tarnishing the image of his pious, kind wife who was loved by all. 

Lannister also had his doubts about you. Again, he was no fool to fall for whatever game you were playing. An honourable, devoted Lady such as yourself would never actually be so easy to adulterate. Whatever it was, Jason was not against indulging himself in some fun here and there. 

But he did prefer to keep his limbs and so he shook his head gently and stood from his seat. 

“You have my thanks,” he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. A bold move from a man who could so strongly feel the Prince’s pointed glare. Jason turned and bowed his head gently towards Aemond. “But I fear I have some business to attend to, so do not stay back on my regard. It was lovely to sit with you, my Lady.”

Aemond scoffed loudly as the Lord took his leave. He waited for you to take his hand to help you out of your seat before dropping it to your waist. 

“My prince-”

“If you are so starved of company, dear wife,” he drawled, looking straight ahead with a tightened jaw as he led you in the direction of the gardens. It was a habit now, whenever Aemond had you on his arm, to walk that route. Not surprising seeing how it was the only place where you two would see each other apart from your chambers. “I would expect you to call upon me rather than some toady Lord who would certainly misjudge your intentions. I am your husband, am I not?”

The thought of keeping a list of the times he spoke as if he were faithful crossed your mind for barely a second. Aemond was infuriating. 

You offered him half of a smile and pulled him back slightly as you came to a stop. “You are. But your mind is never with me and I am well aware your time is far more precious to you than I am.”

If Aemond’s composure was not so ingrained into his existence, he may have spluttered and gawked at you. Instead, he barely frowned. 

There was little he could do about the unemotional, unkind man that he had become perceived as. Aemond understood that it was his own actions that meant people viewed him as little less than a monster. And truly, it was how he tried to be perceived. 

So why did it disturb Aemond that his own wife thought him so uncaring? He knew he had only himself to blame for it. 

“I am afraid a stroll in the gardens will have to wait,” you continued in his silence. Being alone with Aemond was not how you intended to spend the afternoon. The risk that you’d lose your composure and tell him all that you had seen of him was still high. “I am still feeling fairly unwell. It may be better for me to rest in my chambers with a book.”

Aemond knew that you were retracting into yourself, pulling away from him where you would have been at his beck and call only a week ago. He hummed. “Tomorrow then.” 

And with that, Aemond escorted you to your chambers in silence. It was hardly two hours that you had spent in the Courtyard with Lord Lannister but it had been tiring nonetheless. The peace and quiet that came with your reprieve from the man that had set your nerves into a frenzy just at the knowledge of his presence while you pressed at his patience was welcome. 

A few hours passed slowly in your own company. Dinner was brought to your room at your request. The mere thought of sitting beside your husband and putting on a display for his family exhausted you. 

The sounds of footsteps and conversation outside your door pulled your attention from the embroidery you had forced yourself to practise. Your chambers were fairly secluded compared to the rest and so it wasn’t often that anyone wandered this area. Expecting the Queen or your husband to be the source of the noise, you were hastily at the door, a sudden flush of anxiety shooting straight to your gut. 

You waited barely five seconds for Ser Tunsley to knock on your door but your impatience pushed you to step out first. There was nobody there. You could see Ser Tunsley stalking away from the direction of the private chambers. You didn’t question it, assuming he was probably stepping away for a brief break, given that his position hadn’t been replaced. 

Footsteps. Again. 

Curiously turning your head in the direction of the sound, you saw a flash of brunette hair and a dark grey dress. Fuck. 

It was impossible not to recognise her. Even as she walked away from you and clearly in the direction of Prince Aemond’s chambers, you knew who she was. 

So with one final glance back into your room you followed her, thankful that you were barefoot so that your own footsteps couldn’t be heard.  Even though your body was running hot with a mixture of heartache and rage, there was an icy stiffness that had spread from the back of your neck to your shoulders as you rounded a single corner after her and helplessly watched her enter Aemond’s chambers. 

You held back tears. She had left the door open. Again. It did little to ease the knot in your throat when you realised that while she may be good enough for Aemond with her mouth, she was not the smartest.

Unable to move, you stood planted in that one spot a few feet away for what must have been ten minutes before you heard the same shuffling and muffled voices. You could hear her more clearly this time and it took you another two minutes to build the courage to see, once again, how Aemond dishonoured you. 

If the circumstances were different, it may have been one of the sexiest sights you had ever laid your eyes upon. But it struck you in a way you couldn’t have expected and it took all of your willpower to stay standing. 

But what else had you expected?

This time, the woman was sprawled out, her head hanging off of the bed and if her eyes weren’t screwed shut in bliss then she would have been looking directly at you. Her left hand gripped the sheets and the other was tangled amongst Aemond’s silver hair, her thighs on either side of his head. 

Gods, you had never known anything like it. 

Aemond was devouring her like he had been starved of her for weeks (you knew he hadn’t), the obscene sounds of his mouth against her sex striking you with distress. He held her down as she writhed against him, a strong, clothed arm keeping her in place at her waist. 

You had hardly been watching them for thirty seconds and you didn’t even have time to consider turning around and walking away to save yourself the misery. 

Because Aemond’s eye opened and he gazed straight through his lashes, lifting his head so he was looking directly at you. A piercing violet eye accompanied by a glimmering sapphire that watched you dangerously, as if he had seen you standing there the entire time and this was all entertaining to him. 

For what may well have been the tenth time that night, you couldn’t move. You stood at the door, chest heaving and jaw slack as you felt a tightness in your throat. How could you feel so powerless in a game you managed to believe you had the upperhand in? 

Aemond still held your eyes with his own, pulling away from the whore he was toying with, and fucking smirked.  

Like things were going exactly how he had planned. 

Red. And a loud gasp and then panic and a flash of arousal and all of a sudden you were running back to your chambers, falling to your knees over your empty bathtub and dry heaving. It was all too much. 

The shock, the fear, the jealousy, the fear. 

And it dawned on you as you tried desperately to catch your breath. Ignoring your arousal–you cursed your body for reacting faster than your mind once again–panic continued to flood your veins like an ice-cold burn. 

Aemond had definitely seen you watching. But had he known all along? 

It made no sense. Did he see you that night when he moaned your name instead of that damned woman’s? 

You couldn’t even be sure how long Aemond had stared at you from his spot, his attention diverted entirely from the nameless woman, who whined and stirred incessantly at his distraction, to you. Caught like a thief in the act, wide-eyed and dazed.

Aemond knew. And he must have known the entire time. With the way he looked directly to you, as if he were waiting for you. As if Aemond knew exactly where you stood the first night. As if he had finally caught you in his trap.  

He wanted you to see. 

Aemond had already bested you at your own game with even more cleverness than you. Before you had even started to play. 

Sleep did not come easy that night. 

 

You were dressed and ready far earlier than usual the next morning. Even though you dreaded the worst - that Aemond had convened to have you punished for watching as you had, you let your scheme motivate you to take back the control you had lost. If you had ever had it in the first place. 

The dress you wore was hardly decent and it left you bare from your chest up, a wide slit running through the skirts. It was a deep green that had a shine to it and clung to your skin, making it clear that you had foregone your smallclothes for the day. 

For the sake of decency within the hallway, and because you detested the idea of either of the Cloaks at your doors seeing your attire, you donned a heavy cloak over top. It was Aemond’s; he had left it behind after breakfast once.

Aemond was still asleep when you had talked your way past the guard at his door and pushed through the doors to his chambers. You stood at the foot of his bed, tracing the place where that woman lay with your eyes. Quietly, you dropped the cloak to the floor.

It was your first time in Aemond’s private chambers. And would things have been different, you would have taken the time to observe all the things that made this space his. Instead, your eyes scanned every centimetre of every part of his chambers for any trace of that wretched woman. 

There was none. Not a single strand of hair. 

You sat at the edge of his plush bed, taking a moment to get your head straight before you stood and walked around to the side of the bed where he lay. The scent of him was overwhelming as you stood above him. 

“Well,” Aemond barely moved aside from his lips as he spoke. His eye remained shut. “Look who finally figured it out. Why are you here?”

You let out a drawn out sigh, shivering gently. “I would like to talk.”

Aemond sat up lazily and you noticed he was naked save for the sheet that covered his lap. From the way he was sitting, you stood in between his legs and his head was slightly tilted as he looked at you over the swell of your breasts. His hands found a resting place on your hips and you were hyper-aware of his touch, which felt heavier than boulders and hotter than lava. 

He looked at you as if he were ready to devour you. As if Aemond were a man starved of air and you were his only chance at breathing. 

The prince let out a hum. “Dressed like this?”

“Since you seem to prefer a whore over your own wife, I figured I would dress akin to one,” you kept your voice stern and stepped further into him so that his chin almost had to rest in the valley of your breasts if he wished to keep his gaze on yours. “If this is what it will take to have your attention.”

Not once did Aemond’s heated stare falter. “I think you are well aware of where my attention lies. What with your childish attempts at seduction.”

“I did not think you cared to take note.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Aemond said, dragging a finger up and down the side of your waist. He enjoyed the soft feel of the fabric and the way your nipples perked through the dress at his touch had him resisting a primal urge to bite. His patience had been astounding thus far but it was wearing thin. “I would have expected that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady such as yourself. You are a princess, after all.”

Trying your best not to squirm under his touch, you held firm in your hardened gaze. “You seem to enjoy whores.”

“I do not.”

You scoffed. “So you have been fucking her just to spite me? Or have you fallen in love?”

“Such filthy language from such a well behaved girl,” he mused. Aemond’s cursed smirk had you holding back from both cutting him and kissing him. “I never would have guessed that my wife is so full of surprises. It seems I do not know you as well as I believed.”

“Answer my question, Aemond.”

“I never fucked her properly, since you insist–”

“As if it makes a difference whether you fucked her cunt or her mouth,” you spat. He was maddening. “You are my husband. I should be the only woman you have in your bed.”

The grip on your hips tightened almost painfully before he brought one hand up to caress your jaw. Aemond didn’t hide the longing he felt, pulling you closer and admiring every inch of your skin tenderly. “If only you had been good and asked me nicely for what you need. Instead of acting like a desperate slut every time we were in the same space. Things could have been so much easier for you, my love.”

Aemond had always spoken to you with respect. And yet here he was, speaking to you as if he already knew exactly what sent your cunt wild with need. He harshly held your chin, forcing you to look up at the roof as he straightened, pressing his nose into the crevice of your neck. The tickle of his hot breath on your skin made you gasp and you felt the velvet of his lips smirking against your throat. 

“The whole time,” you panted, bringing your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “You knew. It was-”

“Hm. It was for you.” Aemond let his teeth graze against the dip of your jaw. 

There was a fire alight on your skin. You could barely make sense of his words but you forced yourself to hold it together. “You are insane.”

“I was only playing the game that you started,” Aemond chuckled. “Only, I have played it far better than you. Perhaps we are lucky that you did not present more of a challenge, considering I was not above taking her on your bed instead.”

Fuck that. You despised him and loved him and lusted for him all at the same time. 

The control you had was slight to begin with but whatever little there was, it was slipping through your fingers. You threaded your fingers through Aemond’s hair–which was silkier than you had expected–and pulled him away from your neck. 

When you saw the hunger for you in his eye, the slight pink flush of his cheeks, a warm flood of invigorating energy made it’s way through your veins. You fought the urge to run your hands down his shoulders, his chest, his bicep–any part of him you could reach. 

You swallowed thickly. “You should have. I need only one more reason to cut her.”

“I shall have her hanged if that is what you wish.” 

For a moment, you thought you might scratch the smug expression off of Aemond’s face. You groaned, pursing your lips at his indifference and squeezing your thighs together at the passion in his eye. “Fuck you, Aemond.”

“I’m going to give you another chance. Ask me nicely to fuck you until all those doubts you have are replaced by the empty space I will fill your pretty little head with,” He pulled at your hips, so that there was no empty space between you, your torso flush to his chest. Aemond felt deathly tense yet strangely relaxed at the feel of you gasping against him. “And we can put an end to this contest. I do regret that I have left you, my wife, unsatisfied but I want you begging first.”

You watched him closely, challenged him with your gaze. There was no chance you would beg and let him win. The air between you was charged with energy, hissing and stinging. It became heavy and despite the way both of you were breathing so heavily, chests rising and falling dramatically, you couldn’t get enough oxygen to fill your lungs. 

The thickness in the air only became heavier as you gripped his wrists, and moved slowly so that you straddled his right thigh. Aemond fisted the thin fabric of your dress and when you lightly pressed your leg against the hardness at his crotch, you felt his steady breath against your lips which lingered above his own. The skirts of your dress rode up to your hips. 

Lavender, leather and him. 

“You want me to ask you nicely, my prince?” You purred, relishing in the way Aemond’s jaw clenched when he felt your bare cunt press against his thigh. It sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. “You want me to beg you to tear this dress off of me? To fuck me until I can no longer think of any word other than your name? To make me yours properly? Beg you to fuck me how you should have every night since our wedding?”

Aemond’s hands were grasping at the flesh all over your body, pulling at the fabric of your pathetic excuse of a gown until it ripped. There was a weight on his chest that only grew at the sight of your perfect skin through the torn fabric, your nipples slipping into his view. 

His voice was low and guttural. “The final chance. Be good and beg.”

“If you wish for me to be good,” you whispered into his ear, moving hastily to grip the back of his neck with one hand and the other holding his chin tightly as he had held yours minutes ago. He let out a strained sound through his teeth as you shifted against his cock, pretending to get comfortable.  “You should not have indulged in that whore.”

Aemond scowled at you. And he could have thrown you off of him but his hands continued to scorch the skin on your hips.

You realised you had never been so close to Aemond as you pressed a trail of tender kisses to his jaw. You were infinitely closer to him than all the times you had held onto him while walking the gardes or while he had bedded you with feigned disinterest. And you were aching with want and desire just as he was, your wetness seeping onto Aemond’s thigh. 

It was nothing in comparison to the rage that you had pent up. With a gasp you ground down on the strong muscle of his thigh, eyes fluttering at the sensation. Holding back a moan, you rested your forehead against Aemond’s and rocked your hips against him. 

You tightened your legs, well aware that Aemond could overpower you and have you under him in seconds. He was allowing you to have your moment and you pulled your hand from his jaw only for it to stay tightly locked as his fingers dug into your hips.

There would be bruises left on your skin for weeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, almost groaning out loud when Aemond took control of your movements, pushing and pulling your hips so that your clit rubbed against him perfectly. “Prince Aemond Targaryen. You think you can just do as you like and that there would be no consequences. That I would come crawling back to you so easily?”

A moan slipped from your lips when Aemond shifted his leg. You knew you were getting carried away, that the power you had over him was getting to your head but fuck. It didn’t matter. 

You dropped your hand to where Aemond’s cock pressed against one of your thighs, touching him gently over the sheet that covered him. It still surprised you just how perfectly big Aemond was, thick and hard in your palm. And then you held him firmly, rocking your weeping cunt against his thigh even harder when he groaned. It sent shock after shock straight through your core.

“Did you think I would be on my knees for you so easily just like she was?” You spat, whining at the pleasure that was incomparable to the way you had been touching yourself. Aemond hissed as you slid your hand up and then back down so slowly. “After those shows you put on for me, there is not a chance.” 

Countermoves. Aemond was good at them, even when struggling to even out his breath and regain his composure. “Tell me, which part did you enjoy the most? Was it when I fucked my seed into her throat? Or when was calling your name?” 

You gripped the back of his neck so hard, pushing your soaked pussy harder onto his leg. “Do not-”

Aemond hummed, his grip tightening painfully on your hips as he moved his leg in motion against you. He smirked when you shuddered, caressing your cheek with his nose as he spoke lowly into your ear once again. “I think I know. It was last night, when I had her on my tongue and thought only of how perfect your desperate little cunt would taste instead.”

“Aemond,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rolled your hips deliciously on his thigh. He let out a small, deep laugh at the way you trembled in his hands but you could hear that he was losing himself just as much as you were. “Gods.”

“I wish to know, princess. How many times have you touched yourself since that night, wishing you were in her place?”

You sucked in a breath, rutting against Aemond violently and he only pulled you in harder when you refused to answer his questions. Another moan. “Be quiet, Aemond.”

“Hm,” Aemond nipped at your earlobe. “Do you really want me to stop talking? You know that I can feel how wet it makes your perfect cunt. Desperate little slut.”

Whining and cursing him under your breath, you let yourself really look at him. Aemond’s sapphire eye shone under the early morning light that spilled in from the windows, his eye dark with lust and his jaw clenching as he watched you fall apart on his lap. 

Hips buckling as he continued to pull you back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness on the soft expanse of his skin, your legs failed to hold your weight and you had clearly resigned to letting Aemond take control of your pleasure. 

You were right at the edge and just as you started to ride out your orgasm, Aemond spoke.

“If you do not beg me,” he threatened. “I shall stop.”

“Gods, no–do not sto-”

Aemond held you still in response and no matter how you writhed against his grip, you couldn’t move. He was keeping you at the tipping point, smirking at the way you were gasping for air and squirming on his lap. But he was in no calmer state himself and you could tell his resolve was about to shatter. 

“Stand up. I want you on the bed,” He demanded. And when you didn’t move, he let go of your hip to lay a stiff smack to your backside. “Now.”

“No.” 

It was almost too easy and you snatched his wrist before he could return it to your hip, moving your hips and rubbing yourself against his leg again now that he only had one hand to try and control you.   

Aemond’s leg was slick and your clit was sliding deliciously across his skin. Fingernails dug into the flesh of your hips and you could feel Aemond’s frustration as he yanked his hand out of yours. But you blindly grasped at it again, shockwaves of white hot pleasure striking you suddenly as you came undone, your forehead falling forward to rest on Aemond’s as you let out a loud, drawn out moan. 

You shook through your orgasm, holding Aemond tightly. His cock throbbed against your thigh and you almost felt bad. 

“You should understand, my prince, if you continue to bring that whore to your bed then I am not above bringing another man to mine.” You struggled to catch your breath and your legs were still trembling as you stood, stepping away to pick up the coat you had dropped to the floor. 

Aemond glowered at you, his glare strong enough to have made you crumble before him were you not so high on adrenaline. 

“You would not dare,” he all but growled. 

“Have I not surprised you enough already, Lord Husband?” 

Aemond stood, the sheet falling to the floor, entirely naked and stiff against his stomach as he watched you don his coat. The anger in his voice only served to spur you on. “You will not leave. You would not dare to leave.”

“I am a princess, after all,” you looked at him over your shoulder, lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him bare, hard and infuriated. There was disbelief written all over his expression. “You will need to work much harder than that if you want me to give in.”

There was something new in the way Aemond looked at you. As if he was impressed. Admiring you, even through his frustration. And without giving yourself the chance for second thoughts, you walked right out Aemond’s chambers with a triumphant smile. 

[sleep-0-deprived]

Step dad Toji . F x bottom male reader

Female aligned Dni 18+ only content below, all ageless blogs will be blocked and I hope you all enjoy ;}

Warning daddy kink, breeding kink, overstimulation if you squint, sub/dom dynamic,age gap the reader is over 18 but you can choose the exact age

Today was a perfectly normal day beside the fact that I am being forced to have dinner with my moms new husband, “honey come down stairs” I heard my mom yell “be right their” I responded while hurriedly putting some body spray and deodorant on “honey I want you to meet your new step dad Toji” mom said pointing to a tall muscular man in a tight black shirt “nice to meet you, I’ve heard great things about you” toji spoke with a grin looking the other male up and down “I bet” I said feeling disinterest in the whole situation. I follow mom and my new step dad into the kitchen, sitting down at the table while mom walks off into the kitchen to start dinner “so what do you like to do in your free time?” Toji ask me “nothing much mainly f/h” I said while being blunt “oh that seems fun” Toji said grinning at me “it is” just as I said that my mom walked through the dinning room doors “dinner is ready” she said smiling I just want to get this over with and get back to my room but I can’t deny that Toji looks good I thought as I ate my food while listening to my mom make small talk with me. Finally dinner was over and I go to my room and lay on my bed while scrolling through my phone for a little while or so I thought I look over at the clock seeing the time “it’s already 11:00” I say shocked at how long it’s been, well I guess it’s going to be a late night shower tonight I think while walking into my bathroom “god it’s cold in here” I whisper while turning the shower on and letting it get hot. I slowly take my clothes off and look at myself in the foggy mirror before I get into the hot shower “this feels nice” I grumble as I let the water run down my back “I bet” I heard Toji say “what are you doing in here?” I feel my heart start beating faster and faster “just enjoying the show baby” the man said while licking his scar “what aren’t you supposed to be with mom right now” I gasp out while seeing him start taking his clothes off “well she fell asleep and I thought I could use a shower” he spoke while getting in the shower with me “and just what are you planning?” I say trying to pretend I don’t like this “I’m getting a shower” the larger man spoke teasing me. Toji took his large hands and ran them over my body only stopping at my thighs “god your so fucking pretty, you have no idea how much I wanted to bend you over the table and fuck you at dinner, especially when you were being bratty” the older man groaned while lifting me up with ease and pushing me against the shower walls “ahh~” I groaned as I felt the pleasure of Toji sucking my nipples until they become red and puffy

“just like that~” I moaned wanting more “your so desperate already and for your step dad, what a sick little boy you are” Toji spoke while I tried to grind myself onto him but to no avail Toji gripped my hips tightly and held them in place while not letting me move “god your so fucking desperate like a damn whore” he degraded me while rapping one hand around my head and passionately kissing me, only leaving bite marks and bruises on my body while he takes the hand from around my waist and starts stroking my dick “hahh~” I yelp out in pleasure “your so naughty, letting your step dad give you a handjob in the shower? Oh what would your mom think of you if she knew you wanted your step dad” Toji whispered in my ear while nibbling on my neck “I know it’s wrong but it all feels so damn good” I think, feeling my thoughts cloud over with Haley bliss “I’m so close toji~” I moan out while bucking my hip into his hands “since I’m your step dad you better start calling me daddy” The much older man said with a demanding voice while speeding up his pace and stroking my dick faster than before with more pressure behind it “I’m gonna cum~” I scream out while thick white strings of my semen shoot on toji’s chest and stomach but quickly getting washed off by the now cold water “how about we continue this in your room since the water is cold now?” Toji grunted out “yes please” I spoke with a broken voice. Without hesitating Toji swiftly turned the shower off and carried me to my bed

Toji soon laid me down onto my bed and snapped me out of my trance “face down ass up baby” Toji shot me his signature grin while licking his scar, I waist no time in rolling on my stomach and I soon feel on finger coated in saliva prod into my hole “god your so tight, are yo a virgin?”he asks me “yes” I whispered, my face feeling flush with embarrassment “oh well I guess I’m lucky aren’t I?” And before I could say anything he swiftly shoved two mor fingers in “hahh~” I scream at the three large fingers fucking into my virgin hole. soon I become used to the feeling and it soon turning into pleasure “right there~” I groan feeling Toji hit my prostate ���looks like I found it” toji grunted while pulling his fingers out and earning a needy whine from me “don’t worry I’ll be filling that pretty little hole of yours very soon with something better” before I could speak Toji bottomed out “ngh~” I scream in pain “don’t worry it will all turn into pleasure soon baby” Toji grunted out while starting to move his hips and slowly thrusting into me “yes please right there~” I groaned out as Toji nailed into my prostate “damn your such a fucking slut I’ve just started and your already cock drunk” Toji said in a stern voice while snapping his hips har against mine “yes please I’m your slut daddy~” I moaned in my pillows and gripping my sheets while he railed me from behind “your taking daddy’s cock so well, I just my have to turn you into my personal cock sleeve~” Toji groaned out “yes please turn me in to your cock sleeve daddy~” I moan out as Toji pounds into me, nailing my prostate head on with every thrust “ahh~” I scream out as Toji starts stroking my dick in rhythm to his thrusts almost like he is milking me dry “hahh I’m soo close daddy~” I scream “I’m close too baby boy just hold out a little longer~” Toji groans out with his thrusts becoming faster and harder, fucking me so hard all I see is stars “I’m gonna cu~” before the moans left my lips I came all over my sheets and my cum pumps onto them with a few more thrusts Toji cums inside me, letting his hot seed fill me up. Soon I collapse on my bed “what are you doing I’m no where near done yet it’s only 12:50 I’m no where near done breeding that hole of yours yet pretty boy” Toji groans as he flips me on my back and shoved his dick back into my burning hole and starts thrusting again “oh god faasterr~” I moaned out as my dick started to get hard again “such a fucking slut aren’t you baby?” Toji asks as he rams into me over and over again hitting my prostate head on every time “yes yes I’m your slut daddy please fill me with your cum~” I beg the older man as he continues to relentlessly pound my burning hole “I’m close please~” I moaned out while feeling my third orgasm approach “I’m almost there too just hold on baby~” Toji grunted out as he picked the pace up and started fucking me at an inhuman pace, gripping my hips hard enough for bruises and rearranging my guts “I’m cumming~” I shout as my cum shot on toji’s muscular chest “I’m going to breed your hole so full of my cum that you’ll be filled for a week~” Toji groaned with a final thrust, letting his cum fill me up for the second time tonight.

[soulwrencher]

put my hands on her hips and said, "just focus on me"

sorta switch!ellie x reader, wc: 1,3k

summary: ellie has been gone on patrol for way too long now, leaving you guessing. but when she returns things get hot and messy. or: you're about to eat her out and make her go all subby for you ;)

warnings: not proof read, nsfw

foggy and grey, the sun's weak rays seep through the curtains. you groan in annoyance. how come you only noticed now that these curtains are awful? you rub your eyes, dry rheum poking your inner corners. you've managed to carry yourself to the bathroom, hands holding your body over the sink. you look at yourself, a dusty blue hue coating the room, coating your tired face.

god, you looked like shit.

amidst lost thoughts, you wait for the water to warm up, examining your face up close in the mirror. you splash water on your face, once, and then once more, at least ellie wasn't going to see you like this. right, at least she isn't going to see how awful you're doing without her by your side. but it is driving you crazy, not knowing where she is, not having her here. it was driving you insane. by now you've rearranged the kitchen cabinets 4 times, gone to tipsy bison every single day in hopes of clearing your mind, and even played with the children at the playground. and you're still in the bathroom, slouching over the sink. the absence of her presence is filling up the room, suffocating you slowly. and the fact that you are on patrol tomorrow makes you want to rip your hair out.

fuck, a teardrop falls into the sink, down the metal drain. and to make matters worse, someone just had to knock at the door. "i told dina that jesse is going today, ugh," you mumble under your breath while dragging yourself to the door. you rub your wet, puffy eyes and take a deep breath. it's fine, you tell yourself, going on patrol today would mean you could take your mind off the thoughts that have been plaguing you, not admitting that your worries about ellie were eating you alive, from your gut to your lungs, it was unbearable. your limbs felt heavy, and your hand could've ripped the door handle off, but the door creaks open, a scent and a silhouette, both too familiar.

no, that can't be possibly true. your eyes widen in disbelief as all your worries wash away, it's her. it's ellie, standing right in front of you, she smells like sweat, and her face looks rough. she gives you an apologetic look, her eyes give her away. and then it hits you hard, you missed this woman, and you were grieving her absence. it was an overwhelming feeling that was consuming you. she looks at you, eyelids low, eyes wandering from your shaky hands to the tear stains on your cheek.

"i'm so fucking sorry, tommy just—" ellie glances at you softly, the corners of her mouth twitching to form a sentence. but you reach for her hand, your other tugs at the strap of her backpack. you still can't believe that she's right here with you.

"shut up, i missed you," your voice breaks from being unused all morning. but it's enough to make ellie go all weak for you, she sighs a little oh fuck to the sky and smoothly glides the hand you're holding over your waist, pulling you close. your skin was burning underneath her fingertips, you wanted to melt into her. "i'm so sorry, my love," ellie's voice is small and croaky. "but i'm here now," she says, her other hand finds its way up to your face, cupping your cheek slightly before resting on your nape.

her words echo in the back of your mind, you feel yourself melt away under her lingering gaze. ellie can't look away, her yearning heart deludes her into believing that the second she looks away, you will disappear into thin air. her grip tightens around your nape, fingers grazing over the side of your neck. ellie missed you too much, the thought of you being by yourself was killing her slowly over the past three days. her touch made your heart beat faster, you just want to close the distance.

and ellie wanted you, more than ever. you could feel her hot breath tickle your cheek, but the way she was glancing at you made you think of all the other places you felt her hot breath on. and the auburn-haired woman picks up on that, her lips felt soft on yours. your hands search her body hastily, until your fingers are tangled in her hair, your bodies were pressed against each other. she slips her tongue into your parted lips, you breathe heavily. animalistic, the way ellie throws her backpack inside onto the ground, closes the door behind the two of you while forcing you backwards against the wall. her body on yours, tits pressed against one another. she slips an i missed you in between sloppy kisses, leaving you gasp for air. wet lips, you could feel your clit throbbing as ellie tugs on your bottom lip, the taste of her was addicting. she pulls away, a moan escaping her mouth.

oh how you've been dying to hear that, hungry to hear her sweet, croaky voice. it was everything to you. you watch her inhale sharply as you cup her tits and feel her up through the endless layers of clothes she's wearing, you want them off, now. ellie bites down her lip as she watches you unzip her jacket, unbutton her shirt, ready to rip it off her skin. "now… hold up," she whispers in your ear, nibbling on it while taking her clothes off. her wet lips send shivers down your spine and heat straight down your clit. she smirks at the sight of your flustered face, her toned arms fully exposed now. ellie's exhaustion was clear, she struggled to take off her pants, but she looks so helpless. so helpless, you can't help but desire to devour her.

"slow down, ellie," you say gently as you wrap your arms around her waist, walking her backwards to her couch, pushing her down onto it. she looks up to you through her eyelashes, confused. you rest your palms on the insides of her thighs, they were warm. and it is bright enough to see goosebumps covering her whole skin as your fingertips touch her bare skin. "open them," you command, her cheeks flush pink. she blinks at you a few times, adjusting herself, you feel her squeeze her thighs together. you're hovering over her by now, tilting your head in expectation. ellie is losing herself under your gaze, she desperately wants to let loose and let you take care of the warm, sticky mess in her panties. "don't think it's a good idea," the woman says breathlessly. you raise your eyebrow in response.

"i was sweating my ass off, i haven't showered in—" you shut her up with a soft kiss, drag them to her cheek and over the side of her neck, all the way up her earlobe. she throws her head back, fuck did you feel good.

"just shut up for once," you whisper, earning you a scoff. but you weren't going to let that sit on you, ellie scoffing at you? your thumb gets dangerously close to her folds, grazing the sensitive skin through her panties. you feel her chest rising abruptly, legs slightly parting as she pushes her hips forward, it was exactly what you wanted. you could finally force your hands in between and spread her legs apart. you inch closer, eventually going down on your knees to examine the wetness leaking through her panties. you loved the sight of her, all desperate, flushed cheeks, just needy and dirty. you massaged her pussy through the fabric, oh how you missed seeing ellie squirm under your touch. and as you thought that it couldn't get any better, she reaches down for your hand, holding it firmly.

before you could question her, a weak and breathless please escapes her mouth. you're more than amused, you love making ellie go all dumb and needy for you. "please what?" you ask teasingly. she rolls her eyes. "fuck, just touch me, please."

i swear there is a second part coming this week where reader eats ellie out i just miss my girlfriend and am done for the day lol

[sweetshuga]

𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝟫 ✰ 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐

𝒘𝒄. 𝟨𝟩𝟫

𝒑𝒔𝒂. English is not my first language! 𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔⚠ semi-public sex, standing doggy style, quiet sex, pet names, strong language.

Christmas shopping... It felt more like a chore this year and the fact that you were irritated the whole day didn’t help at all. Everything just felt off today, you woke up with a pounding headache, drank painkillers which just made your head feel foggy, you nearly slipped in the bathroom after your shower, wore a white shirt and spilled your drink on it...

Oh, you were so not having it today.

But you had to get the things you wanted so desperately, plus a present for your boyfriend and the other two so you tagged along anyway. "You’ve had that look on your face for the whole day, " Matt stated blankly, but there was a clear hint of concern in his tone. He quickly took notice of your lack of response and frowned slightly, gently grasping your arm to stop you in your tracks.

You turned around, annoyed, "what?" The muscles in his jaw twitched, clearly done with your tone and the way you were acting today, but trying his best not to make you more irritated. He sighed and looked into your eyes, searching them, "you know you can tell me, right? I’ll always listen to you, just... just tell me what is going on because quite frankly you’re ruining everyone’s fucking mood."

Shit... that might’ve come out a bit too harsh...

He thought as he gazed at your apologetic expression. "Sorry, just, I don’t know why I’m being this way, maybe I should’ve just stayed home–" "no, no, it’s alright, that didn’t come out like I intended it to," he sighed before gently pulling you towards him, "c’mere baby." You buried yourself in his embrace, not caring about the spectators in the big shopping mall.

Your thighs quivered as you tried to hold yourself up, your hands fisting against the bathroom stall door. Matt’s hand was over your mouth in an iron grip, his other one wrapped around your waist. His hips collided with your ass as he fucked your sopping pussy roughly in the public bathroom stall. "Yeah... fuck, y’feel so good, sooo good wrapped around me."

Matt chuckled breathlessly when he felt you clench around him more than usual, "oh? You like this don’t you? Y’like bein’ fucked dumb in public by your boyfriend? Excited to let everyone hear your slutty moans huh?" He emphasized his words with harsh slams, hitting spots that made your eyes roll back. Tears ran down your face from the pleasure, your hands scrambling up to clutch onto his arm that was keeping you shut.

It was his tattooed arm, his rings warming up due to how warm you were.

"Fu—ck, juuust like that, fuckin’ milk my dick dry," he moaned lowly, biting his lips to suppress his own sounds of pleasure. Your eyes widened when you felt the pressure in your abdomen snap, you quickly slapped his hand that was over your mouth, eyes rolling back and whole body trembling. One hand snaked down in a futile attempt to stop his hips, the feeling of not being able to come down from your high because of his pistoning cock made you overwhelmed.

Matt groaned lowly as he buried his face in your hair, his hips finally relenting after a few brutal slams. His breath was ragged as he stayed still, his softening cock still lodged deep in you. With a low moan, he drew himself out, slowly took off the condom and discarded it in the small bin by the toilet seat after tying it up. He deftly worked to fix your clothes as well as his own.

After helping you fix yourself, he smiled softly, his hands still fixing your hair as he spoke in a gentle tone that contrasted starkly from the intensity just moments ago. "Y’kay sweetheart? I wasn’t too rough, was I?" You smiled back at him, "nope, don’t worry baby." He chuckled, "alright then, y’feel any better now? No more attitude?" You laughed softly, "yeah... I feel so much better," you covered your mouth to yawn – a small habit, "but now I’m sleepy though."

𓆩♡𓆪

𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @h3arts4nat @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @courta13 @slag2 @bumbl3b34 @thebigbadwolfahoooo @slut4chris888 @chrissluttyygf @billiesbabya @chrissbows @kaybug88 @sturniolo-fann @itsmaddielouis @urfavppls133 @certified-sturniolo @emkhlo @madisonsls @sammy1z @friendlyneighborhoodemo @layvvy @bellabooxx333 @wh0remikasas @ja75ahm @hearts4werka @miabumbia @slut4music @plrlvssnz @hannahhsturn1oloo @sturninsworld @idkwuttopit @madssturniolo @devilese @thatsitsthings @pr3ttyf4wn @stvrnioloslvt @d3adfa1ry @valsenoj @maddie-2024 @fallingforfalll2 @sagesturns @alicesturns @ccsturns @slxt4chriss @sturniolosfr3shl0v3 @slvtf0rchr1s @poopysturniolo @pinktalearcade @clumsycunt @rhaine720 @halfbloodwriter

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒂

[chvoswxtch]

oi, matt! can i get a macchiato? mayhaps over ice if that’s what the barista has to offer today….

matt x assistant!reader at nelson and murdock is one of my favourite flavours ever. i just neeeeed your take on it.

you know I had to kick off the celebration with this slut (works for you or matty) <3 also just so you know I could've kept going with this forever but tumblr told me to shut up bc apparently there's a word limit on answering asks but you get the picture ;)

as a reminder, over ice means it's spicy ! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

matt murdock is an hr nightmare

when foggy mentions that nelson & murdock could desperately use an assistant since karen is now at the bulletin, before matt even has a chance to speak, foggy is warning him to keep his dick in his pants

and when matt pulls that face (you know the one, the "she wanted to teach me" look of faux innocence) foggy reminds matt that not only is he a whore but he also has a history of being tempted by forbidden fruit (he probably fucked all the female interns at landman and zack, and then there's karen who he would've slept with if frank & elektra hadn't shown up but that's a different story for a different day)

matt does the lil "i cross my heart" thing and swears to foggy that he won't get involved with the new assistant

he also makes this promise to himself bc let's face it he's a human disaster who's life is constantly falling apart and the last thing he needs is drama that could've been avoided if he thought with the right head

but then the day of the interviews arrive and you walk in the room, and matt knows at that moment that he is completely fucked

your scent hits him first, something soft and subtle, a breath of fresh air from the stuffy office smell and the lingering assault of pungent perfume left behind by other candidates that had given him a dull headache

then it's your voice, god your voice, it's the most melodious sound he's ever heard. it's gentle but crisp, and your alluring intonation has him hanging onto your every word, especially his name that fell from your lips in greeting

touching your hand nearly does him in, bc getting to feel your smooth skin caress his rough palm makes it even worse. there's a an electric spark that tingles in his fingertips and shoots throughout the rest of his body, and he finds himself wondering if you feel it too, but then catches himself and quickly plasters on a professional appearance

it was one thing that every single thing about your existence drew him in, but the fact that you were also intelligent and well-spoken, deeply passionate and genuinely empathetic, while also quick to craft clever responses without your sharp wit coming off as ostentatious just made matt want you more

matt was uncharacteristically quiet while foggy asked most of the questions, to which you gave perfect answers, and occasionally chimed in with a few of his own just to redirect your attention where he wanted it: on him

by the end of the interview, foggy was sold on you, and so was matt, but for duplicitious reasons

matt tries so hard to keep his promise, but fuck do you make it (and him) hard. he makes a point to never be alone with you in the office. if a round at josie's is suggested, he makes sure foggy or karen will also be there. he tries to balance between being friendly while also being professional, trying to find the invisible line that crosses from innocent inquisitions to dangerous territory

he does his best not to initiate physical contact, which proves to be difficult, bc you're a hugger and always politely offering matt your arm to guide him whenever you go anywhere

you're so kind and thoughtful and treat him the exact way you treat everyone else and it makes him want to put his head through a wall bc every day that he spends with you makes this attraction worse and worse and he can't tell if it's purely physical or if it goes deeper than that

and then one day he just fucking snaps

matt has a really bad day. a lead he'd been working on for weeks ended up being a dead end, and matt had taken his frustration out on some petty thug in an alley, but it wasn't enough. he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed, late at that, to a handful of voicemails from a pissed off foggy. it had been a grueling day in court, all of his senses were overwhelmed, and he had so much pent up tension in his body that he felt stiff

he was so wrapped up in himself that when he walked through the door of the office, he didn't realize he'd broken his own rule: never be alone with you

as soon as he realizes his mistake, he heads towards his office, returning your polite greeting with a grunt of acknowledgement. he hoped that you'd leave it alone, that you'd say something like you were just about to leave, and he'd be spared from you coming closer. but you being you, noticing every little detail and having learned to read matt, could tell something was off

you just wanted to help. you always just wanted to help, and matt loved that about you, but right now, it was only making this more difficult for him bc his self restraint was deteriorating

and then you gently touched his shoulder and matt let out a groan bc he could smell what you'd done the night previously. the scent of your arousal was still embedded in your skin even though you'd washed your hands several times, and the scent of soap was almost nonexistent as matt's nose focused solely on the delectable scent of your pussy on your own fingers

he'd made himself come many times to the thought of you over the last few months, but knowing that you'd fingered yourself last night possibly to the thought of him is what broke his resolve

matt didn't need his heightened senses to know you were attracted to him, that you felt something for him too. he knew it because he knew you, and sometimes you were obvious even when you thought you were being subtle for the sake of both your friendship and your professional reputation

before either of you could process what was happening, matt was devouring your mouth in a heated kiss, your blouse was halfway unbuttoned, just enough for him to pull down the cups of your bra to leave your tits spilling into his welcoming hands. your soft whimpers echoed around the empty office as he toyed with your nipples while assaulting your neck with his teeth and tongue

in record time you were bent over his desk, skirt bunched up around your hips, panties caught around your calves, and matt was pulling down his zipper to free his fully hard cock

the immense relief he felt as he sank into you fully from behind nearly brought him to his knees. he didn't know if it was the heightened allure of having something he wasn't supposed to, or how perfectly your tight cunt enveloped his thick cock, but he quickly got lost in your warm walls like a dazzling labyrinth he never wanted to escape

you were so fucking wet that it was obscene the noises your pussy made welcoming his cock as he pounded into you over and over and over again. but his favorite sound was you chanting his name, desperately pleading for more, which he was all too happy to oblige

you took him so well, your pussy enveloping his cock in a greedy manner, not allowing him the chance to slip out despite how soaked you were. he reached as deep as your body would allow and fucked you relentlessly like a madman on a mission

his rough hands gripped your hips in a bruising manner, and he was completely lost in a fog of lust. it didn't take long for either of you to come undone and it finally clicked for matt that he wasn't the only one that had been depriving himself for the sake of not crossing a boundary when your cunt tightened around his cock before flooding him with your release

matt waited until the absolute last possible second, swiftly pulling out with a hiss as he replaced your pussy with his right hand, stroking his cock at an inhuman speed just a few times before coating your ass in ropes of his come

he collapsed in his chair, but not without wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you down with him. the sound of heavy panting filled his office, and the air was humid and drenched in the scent of sex. matt nuzzled his face into your neck, hugging your back to his chest while the two of you attempted to catch your breath

he's able to pick up on the fact that your heart is still racing not bc of the incredible spontaneous sex, but also out of anxiety about what happens next, so matt decides to break the silence first

"I uh...know this is kinda backwards but, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner?"

in conclusion, he's a fucking menace

[finalgirllx]

mattheo riddle | coffee shop drabble just some fluff with mattheo outside of his typical setting. been in my drafts for a while but the 500 mg of caffeine i’ve had today inspired me to finish it. 1.1k words | f!reader

After spending most of your morning strolling through densely populated city streets, you and your boyfriend Mattheo longed for a short break. You found yourselves entering an equally busy coffee shop; despite all of the action, you sighed in relief as the inside brought a coziness that the foggy spring weather had not granted. Your moment of peace was swiftly interrupted when the comforting air was punctured by a spiteful “Fucking London," muttered by Mattheo.

"Hey, remember what I said, to speak respectfully of muggle life,” you firmly reminded him, prompting Mattheo to roll his eyes.

"I'm just commenting on their ridiculous practices. Imagine living without a few charms to speed up their queues or possessing knowledge of hexes for unruly patrons. Some of these raggedy muggle men clearly have a death wish, eyeing you up," Mattheo explained, his voice heating up slightly as an air of jealousy spiked through him, earning a swift hush from you.

"Enough of that. Firstly, pay no mind to the muggle men; we're not leaving this cafe with an assault charge. And you can't simply overlook every aspect of their world, Matty," you told him. "We're gonna have to stop here sometimes. And let's not forget, you've already strayed from your 'hardened Slytherin principles' by being involved with a half-blood," you added, arching a stern brow. A faint blush tinged Mattheo's cheeks with the reminder of your blood status. He knew he had messed up slightly. "Feeling less judgmental now, are we?" you questioned with a pleased smirk before gesturing towards the lengthy queue of customers. "Come on, go get in line."

Mattheo shot you one last sour glance before standing up, planting a guilty kiss on your forehead, and apologetically joining the queue.

As the aroma of coffee grounds filled your senses and the chatter turned to white noise, you observed Mattheo as he waited. He was constantly fidgeting with his fingers and casting wary glances around, his discomfort for something so foreign to him obvious. It was jarring seeing Mattheo in a new context. Because of your relationship, sometimes you were oblivious to the fact that others found him a bit terrifying.

For one thing, Mattheo constantly exuded a dark allure. His deep brown eyes seemed to penetrate whatever they landed on. His tousled dark curls, erring on the longer end, failed to conceal most of the scars on his face. The most prominent one that lined the bridge of his nose left him looking jaded, with bystanders unaware of how often you placed kisses over it. Despite not being exceptionally tall, his muscular frame hinted at his physical strength. And then there were his scarred hands, roughened up by his often excessive fights, some appearing as if they could have happened as recently as the day prior (and to be fair, you're not sure what he had been up to the times you weren't with him). Even his all-black outfit served to highlight the rest. The subtle paces the muggles strayed away from him in the queue confirmed your suspicions that Mattheo stood out for reasons beyond magic.

Of course, you adored him. To you, he was simply your handsome boyfriend, with scars and poor choices of wording and all.

After a few moments of growing boredom, you made the decision to move from your saved table to join Mattheo in line. Lost in his thoughts (probably something like asking himself how he ended up here), it took you nudging his side for him to notice. He looked at you, the pointed glare he had been directing at everything else softening, but the tenderness was short-lived as he soon became mischievous.

"A tad antsy, are we?" he teased arrogantly, "Have you forgiven me yet?"

"You did offend me back there, so I'm keeping you on a tight leash for the rest of the day." You snuck a hand around his upper arm, emphasizing your point. He smirked and took the excuse to wrap his hand around your waist in a sweet but possessive hold.

"So, what is the lady ordering?" Mattheo asked with a light squeeze to your side.

"I think I'll go for the iced latte," you remarked while perusing the menu. Mattheo snorted, a cocky smirk gracing his lips.

"Don't tell me you also judge others for their coffee," you cautioned, letting him know he was getting on your last nerve.

"Oh please, black coffee being the better drink is just factual."

"Enough of that," you snapped. "You're pushing it today. And I'm not sure how much I trust you, with your entire diet consisting of coffee and cigarettes. Which, speaking of, is a habit we need to break you out of," you continued with your irritated lecture.

"Hey, I'm not on my deathbed," he cut off your tangent, feigning offense with a defiant scoff.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached the front of the line, and Mattheo watched as you placed your order. He offered to pay, a gentlemanly gesture that was most likely to make up for the half-blood comment, to which you accepted. After solving a slight delay caused by confusion over muggle versus wizarding money (Mattheo handing the polite employee galleons, to everyone's surprise), your drinks were finally being prepared.

"It serves you right," you remarked. “Keep insulting your lady, and you'll be paying forever."

"Don't worry; I planned on doing that anyway."

You picked up your drinks and Mattheo pulled off the lid to blow on his to cool it down, prompting you to giggle at his actions.

"How's that scorching black coffee for you?" you asked teasingly, looking a bit too pleased at the sight. He pouted slightly before upping the attitude, warning you to watch your tongue.

Once again, without a clue about his surroundings, Mattheo attempted to cool his drink with a freezing charm. You quickly stopped to remind him that fingertips don't typically summon ice in the muggle world. He gave you a scornful look but complied, waiting patiently instead for his prized black coffee.

Waiting a few more minutes before heading out to brave the lousy weather, you couldn't resist checking out your boyfriend again. You had to admit that Mattheo's intimidating look, paired with a drink in hand, was especially attractive. Everything about him just worked for you, and you pulled some corny comment about him looking hotter than the drink, eliciting a groan from him to hide his amusement.

Now fastened with liquid energy to get you through the rest of the day, you left the cafe side by side, the bickering never ceasing.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

One For The Road [5]

Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Series Masterlist

Summary: Staying over with Cecil is all going well until a surprise guest turns up.

A/N: More huge thank yous to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading <3 and dealing with all my NonsenseTM.

Warnings: sleepy sex, p in v sex, cream pie, fingering, reader has a job where they work on Friday - but not on weekends, THERE BE SOME ERM ANGST COMING, I'M SORRY, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1893

Don't Get That Sinking Feeling, Don't Fall Apart

It’s about 5am when you wake up in Cecil’s bed. He’s sprawled out on his back, his left arm hanging off the side while his right hand is resting gently on your forearm. He looks so peaceful, dead to the world and angelic with how his curls fan out against the pillows. 

The fact that it’s Friday, and you have work in a few hours annoys you to no end. Really you should be getting up, heading back to yours to eat and shower and change, but all you want to do is stay in the comfort of blankets with him just a little while longer. 

You sigh and get out of bed. 

You grab your phone from the side table and head to the bathroom and close the door softly, not that you think you’d wake Cecil, he seems like a pretty deep sleeper, but you want to be on the safe side just in case.

You call your work, knowing no one will be in yet, a little spark of glee growing in your chest. You leave a voicemail, saying you’ve had a family emergency in the night and won’t be able to make it in today.

Getting fucked so hard you might have seen god was an emergency, right? 

Besides, this was the first time you’ve ever called to say you weren’t coming in. You deserved today off as a little treat. Before you head back you make sure you’ve turned your morning alarms off.

Cecil mumbles in his sleep as you get back into bed, turning onto his side and curling up next to you. He nuzzles your neck as he lets out a contented sigh and you quickly fall back to sleep in his embrace. 

.

There’s a syrupy warmth against your neck, a soft gliding touch on your hip. You keep your eyes closed for a minute, vaguely aware that you’re still half dreaming. 

And then Cecil’s hitched breathing works its way into your foggy head. 

He moans lightly, trying to stay quiet and failing as he sucks and kisses your skin, running his lips over your jaw as he presses his chest to your back and ruts his weeping cock against the swell of your ass. 

He murmurs your name as you stir and lean into him, whining as you rock back. 

“So-sorry,” he mutters, his voice thick with sleep and arousal. “I just got so…” He gasps softly, moaning into your neck, “I was dreaming about you and…” 

He swallows, the sound echoing in your ear as he squeezes your hip, guiding your movements for a second before he trails his fingers around and slips to the heat between your legs.

He groans loudly at the wetness he finds, shivers as he presses firmer, drags the tips of his fingers through your folds before he circles your clit in tight soft circles. 

“Shit,” you reach behind you and grab at him, sinking your fingers into his thick curls at the back of his head. 

He whines, gasping and moaning happily, “Oh, is that good?” He shudders, practically begging you to praise him. “You’re so wet,” he buries his face into your shoulder for a second to gather himself, “You really like me, don’t you?” The little whimper at the end breaks your heart. 

“Of course, I like you, dummy,” you breathe hard, hooking your leg over his hip so he’s got easier access. 

He sobs in bliss as he ruts against you harder, sinking two of his thick fingers inside as he rubs your clit like he’s playing guitar. 

Your back arches as he caresses your walls, a high-pitched whine breaking past your lips. “Cecil, fuck.” 

He moans after every stroke, the sounds of your pleasure making him lightheaded and dizzy. Weight settles low in his stomach, his cock practically buzzing from length to tip. 

You move your head, licking into his mouth with a whimper and long, lazy stroke of your tongue. 

He presses closer, trying to blend your bodies together through pure strength of will as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, pushing you higher and higher to your peak.

You swear, your thighs start to shake and muscles tense. “Cecil,” normally you’d hate how desperate you sound, how needy, but now you couldn’t care less. “You, you get tested regularly right?” 

It takes him a moment to answer, but his movements don’t falter, his body too far gone to even pause. “Yeah, yeah, got to, to give blood, and, ohhh shit, I don’t, I don’t, I’ve never done it without a condom on and-”

You don’t think you can wait, you want him inside, want both of you connected as deeply as possible. It’s stopping you from thinking straight. 

You angle yourself, pressing your pussy firmly against his length and he groans, his eyes rolling back. “I’m on birth control, I, you could just-”

Cecil doesn’t need to be told twice, he notches himself at your entrance and bucks his hips forward softly, slipping in smooth and deep. 

You cry out as he stretches you, his girth simultaneously soothing that deep ache as well as adding fuel to the fire. 

His own cries harmonise with yours as you push back against him, pulling him further inside. 

“Baby, baby,” he groans, bucking lightly to work himself in, still toying with your clit as he bottoms out. “Oh god, shit, fuck, taking me so well,” he whines. “Ah- ah- feels so good.” He thrusts into you roughly, biting hard at his bottom lip until he feels you tense and writhe. “There? There?” 

You nod, hardly able to speak as pleasure rushes up through you and blinds you to anything but bliss. 

“Gonna make me cum,” he whines, tears in his eyes, “Gonna- gonna make me fill you up, shit,” he rocks with you, hitting devastatingly inside in time with the paralysing strokes of his fingers. “Never been bareback before,” his voice rises in pitch to almost breaking point. 

You don’t know why, but that’s what sets you off. Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere, pulling you down as you cry out his name in a breathless scream. 

Cecil gasps, tenses as you flutter and squeeze his cock. He comes a second later, pressing his chest as close to your back as physically possible as your walls milk him dry. 

You both breathe hard, sweaty as you recover, your hearts beating in sync. 

He kisses your neck lightly. “Thank you.” 

You chuckle with how sweet he sounds, “You don’t have to thank me silly.” 

“I know.” He grins, “But manners.” 

You laugh and turn your head to kiss his cheek. “Was that okay?”

He nods, pulling a face, “Was that okay? You just fucked my brains out, of course it was okay.” 

He kisses your lips, smiling and then suddenly pulls back, horror on his face, “Shit, it’s Friday? What time is it? You got work! Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Cec, Cec, Cec,” you pat his hair until he focuses on you and you give him a cheeky smile. “I called in, said I couldn’t come in today.”

He stares at you dumbfounded for a moment, before his eyes light up. “You did?” 

You nod.

He squeals in joy and kisses all over your face rapidly. 

You wriggle, giggling. “Stop, stop, stop, you’re gonna fall out and make a mess on your sheets.” 

He snorts but snuggles closer, managing to keep his softening cock inside. “I don’t care.” 

“I do.” You laugh.

“Okay, I care then.” He squeezes you in a tight hug. “I’m so happy. We can hang out today… if you want?” 

“I want.” 

He grins widely. 

“I was thinking we could go to mine? Hang out all weekend.” 

You’ve never seen him look so happy. 

“Three day weekend!” He giggles, “But you can kick me out if you get fed up with me-”

“Shh.” You kiss him. 

“Okay.” He pauses, and then wriggles his eyebrows at you, “I have a plan, I make pancakes, we eat. We go to yours, we fuck on every surface in your house in every position we can get in, we eat, we watch some porn, we fuck some more and repeat?” 

You laugh loudly, loving his shameless smile. “Sounds great.” 

He punches the air with his fist. “Three day wee- oh shit,” he grabs at his cock, giggling as he slips out of you and lunges for the tissues. 

.

Cecil makes pancakes as you have a quick shower. He’d offered to find you something to wear, but you’d opted to just put on your pyjamas as you’d only be in the car and then back to your home. 

As you’re drying yourself you hear the doorbell and knocking. Harry must have forgotten his keys. 

A little worm of anxiety wriggles in your chest. It was obvious that you had stayed the night, there was no way around that. But, as you think on it, you realise pleasantly that you don’t mind. It would be kind of nice for Harry to know. 

Cecil’s phone buzzes from the bedroom and there’s more knocking. Harry definitely forgot his keys. 

You smile as you hear Cecil go to the door. 

It quickly disappears when you hear the yelling. 

You dress quickly, and rush downstairs, stopping at the last step. 

There’s a lady screaming at Cecil as she stands just in the doorway. He looks lost, panicked as he stares blankly at her. 

“You should be ready! What the fuck Cecil?! It’s literally the first appointment, you fucking said you’d support me!”

“I, I, Danielle, what? What are you doing here?”

He barely gets the words out before she cuts him off. “Oh, you think you can just fucking get away with it? Throw me out like trash? I’ll take you to court!”

“Danielle, that’s not what I meant-”

“You’re paying every fucking cent for this baby!”

“Dan-”

“And don’t you think!” She stops, her line of sight suddenly landing on you. You swallow. “Who the fuck is this?” 

Cecil whips around, his eyes large and panicked, a baby deer in a forest seeing a hunter for the first time. The look he gives you hurts, the pinch of pain on his forehead. The shininess to his eyes. 

“I…” He starts.

“Already trying to knock up someone else Cecil?” Danielle screams, the volume of it hurting your head.

“No!” He says quickly, “Danielle, I thought you told me the 20th? It’s the 12th, otherwise-”

“You’re so full of shit!” She steps forward and for a sickening second you think she’s going to hit him. 

Cecil flinches back, but instead, Danielle looks at you.

When she speaks it’s quieter, though not by much. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but Cecil is my baby’s,” she grabs her stomach for emphasis, “father and he’s coming with me to this appointment.” 

You nod. 

She nods back, staring at you for a second before she grabs Cecil by the arm.

He turns to you, dread squeezing his heart, “I didn’t- I’m sorry- this- I should have- please,” Danielle pulls him out of the house as he gazes beseechingly at you. 

The door slamming closed breaks you out of your stupor. 

And then the weight settles on your heart as all your thoughts come rushing forward at once.

Thank you for reading!

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[neo-novaa]

bitter

*ੈ✩ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ethan landry x reader

*ੈ✩ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drunk confessions, .2 seconds of angst, no spoilers :)

*ੈ✩ 𝐚/𝐧: part 1 of 2!! i swear i promise, i pinkie promise that part 2 will come out today

you don’t get jealous, ever. 

it was your (albeit private ) defining feature. you were content with everything you had— no, beyond content: you were happy. you didn’t want anything else because you didn’t need anything else. you had a good family, enough money to keep you from debt, good friends, and even better academics. 

so imagine your surprise when you get that bitter feeling boiling in your stomach at the sight of your “friend,” ethan landry, eyeing another girl. 

you’re being very liberal with the term “friend,” but it’s only because you can’t think of a word to describe someone you’d been hanging out with for a few months, talking and treating them as a friend, but going home and imagining what it’d be like to fuck them senseless.

you’d probably call it a crush, but “friend” sounded much less embarrassing. 

but it’s all going on at some stupid party for some stupid celebration you couldn’t care less about; all you wanted to do was get drunk enough to barely avoid a hangover. you went with your small group of friends, and eventually forced yourself to socialize once you had some juice in your system. 

and it was when you were talking to some pretty girl from your liberal arts class when you saw him: leaning against the wall, red solo cup in hand, eyes stuck on a girl in a halter top with patterned shorts to match— a girl standing right across from you. 

and maybe it was something in the way his fingers were tapping on the plastic cup, or the twitching of his knee, or the way that he just refused take his fucking eyes off of her—

it set you off. 

suddenly you found yourself at a table full of cheap bottles of booze, and your plastic cup was full, brimming with whatever concoction of cheap seltzer and even cheaper tequila you could find. soon enough, you were weaving and dodging your way through the sweaty masses to try and find an exit.

finally, after eons (three minutes) of searching, you managed to find yourself a door, and relished in the early spring chill that hit your skin.

you tried to drink and forget, seeing as though that was the whole reason you came out here. but no matter how much jungle juice you downed, you found your mind wandering back to him.

you couldn’t stop thinking about how ethan refused to look at anyone but her, how even when people greeted him, he waved them off without even looking at them. and you couldn’t stop thinking about the way she was dancing, as if she was born to do so, and how he wouldn’t stop fucking staring at her.

you weren’t jealous— you didn’t get jealous. this wasn’t jealousy, it was just…

just what, envy? envious of what? of some dork you’ve grown particularly fond of eyeing some random girl at this stupid frat party? of the guy you’ve been harboring a crush on for months staring at a girl he didn’t even know? of ethan landry, the boy you hadn’t stopped thinking of for months, thinking about anyone but you?

no, you weren’t envious. what could you possibly be envious of?

“what are you doing out here?”

you jump at ethans voice, beginning to feel particularly sluggish— when did your cup get so light? as a matter of fact, when did it get empty?

“i could ask you the same thing,” you say, finding it increasingly difficult to formulate words. 

“it got too sweaty and crowded in there,” he sits down next to you, bringing his arms close to his torso at the sudden cold breeze. “i always forget how much i hate coming to these parties.”

“then why do you keep coming?” you raise the cup to your lips, frowning when you remember its lack of contents. 

he doesn’t say anything.

“is it because of a girl?” you see him tense from the corner of your vision, however foggy it may be. 

ethans shaking his head. “what makes you say that?”

you shrug, carefully placing the cup by your feet. “i saw you looking at her,” his shoulders drop, and you can’t help but feel something in your chest drop too. “she’s really pretty, i think i have a few classes with her.”

“i really don’t know what you’re talking about.” he feigns ignorance, the coward.

“come on ethan, don’t pretend to be stupid, i know you’re smarter than that.” a chill runs down your spine, you tell yourself its not from the sudden realization of your close proximity to him, but instead because of the cool air around you. 

“wait, are you…” he turns to you. “are you jealous?”

you scoff. “jealous? i don’t get jealous e—than,” you hiccup between the syllables of his name.

“you know, i have a tendency to misread situations, but you…” he pauses to take a dramatic breath. “you seem really jealous.”

“okay, sure but…why would i be jealous, hm? it’s not like i make the rules on what girls you can and can’t look at.” you’re staring into his eyes. those wonderful, beautiful, adjective-ful eyes that make you want to start screaming and shaking and crying and throwing up. 

you can’t stop looking at his eyes, and you can feel your gaze flitting between the two.  

you want ethan to quip back with something sharp and cleaver, but he doesn’t. he just turns away from you, shrugs, and keeps on nursing the drink in his hand. 

for a moment, you feel guilty, another feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while. maybe that made you a good person, or maybe that just made you a socially inept asshole. 

you don’t know why you feel guilty, but you suspect it has something to do with how silent ethan is, or how his brows are leaning with regret, or how his shoulder are slumped much more than they were a second ago. 

“i wasn’t looking at her,” ethan mutters, breaking your shared silence. “i was…looking at someone else.”

you want to curse him out because, really, why did it matter if he was looking at another girl? it was someone who wasn’t you, and that’s all that mattered. 

“i don’t care ethan, it’s not that serious—” you cut yourself off when you turn to him, frozen in how quickly you drown in his puppy dog eyes. 

and then it hits you. 

he wasn’t looking at that girl, he was looking at someone else.

he was looking— 

“at you.”

oh.

oh.

you want to say something, you really do. in any other situation, if it played out exactly like this but minus the alcohol, you’d be able to come up with some poetic ass speech about love and devotion and life—

but you’re drunk, and you can’t think. you don’t want to think. 

so instead, you act. 

instead, you kiss him. 

your hands are grasping at his shirt and you’re kissing him hard. you don’t care if it’s sloppy or bad, you just care that you’re kissing him.

and, obviously, ethan cares too. 

because in a moment, one of his hands are brushing the crook of your neck, and his other arm is shaking around your waist. you know your breath tastes like black cherry white claw and dollar store tequila, but with the way ethan was kissing you, it was as if you were the best thing he’d ever had in his life.

it’s like he’s starving— as if he’s been waiting for this for months. and you wonder, passively, if he’d been pining for you all this time as well. you want to ask him, but asking him would mean you’d have to stop kissing him, and at this point you’d rather die than have that happen. 

so you’re quick to pull yourself onto his lap, stradding one of his thighs. you’ve just started to work with the hem of his shirt and god just feeling his v-line makes you dizzy— but ethan pulls away, and you feel your jaw slack at the sight of his lust-blown pupils and spit-kissed lips.

“as much as i want this to happen,” you note how heavy he’s breathing. “i really wouldn’t want to have sex with you on the front steps of a house party.”

you’re standing up with a curt nod, pulling ethan by the hand as you back up.

“also my room is like, twelve minutes away—”

“my house is just down the block, and my roommates are gone for the weekend.”

ethan glances towards the direction that you gestured in, and nearly trips over his shoes as you start walking towards it. 

“yeah, that actually sounds perfect.” 

all the way home, neither one of you can stop imagining what it’s going to be like to get fucked senseless.

[https-murdock]

Lunchtimes at the Office - Matt Murdock

summary: Matt ‘forgot’ his lunch, maybe you’ll just have to drop it off.

word count: 564 (lil one today)

warnings: allusions to smut, mentions of smut, 18+ MDNI

note: if anyone wants a big sized version fic of this let me know :) <3

When Matt was in the office, one of your favourite things to do was to turn up in your tiniest dress or skirt - because there was nothing he could do about it at all, and it was always almost like for once you could hear his heart beat.

“Hey… sweetheart.” He says, beginning with a happy tone that faded into a note of question after feeling your outfit. He knows exactly which dress you’re wearing by the material, it’s one he always loves to lift up your legs for best access in a rush - It’s definitely short enough to do that.

You can already see his jaw muscles clench as soon as his mouth closes.

“Hey guys! Matt, you forgot your lunch.” you wink, looking at him and seeing his eyes darken even though he doesn’t know exactly what the outfit looks like, he doesn’t need to - he knows why you’re here.

Wandering over to his desk, you close the door behind you - watching Karen smirk to herself, finding it funny how flustered Matt gets each time you turn up. It wasn’t your fault he forgot his lunch… apart from the fact you had hidden it this morning so you had to drop it off.

“What’s up Matt? why are you so quiet today?” you say, trying to hide the laugh that comes out but failing, his head turning in your direction as he lifts you by the hips to place you on his desk. “Don’t play that game.” He growls, kissing your cheek softly, trying to look put together in case someone walks in.

He can’t hide how he’s getting himself worked up. The slight sheen of sweat running itself across his forehead, eyes blinking at a quicker pace than usual. He also can’t hide the way his calloused fingers are tracing themselves across your legs, wishing he was stuck with his head between your thighs making you cum over and over again.

“What game? its not my issue you forgot your lunch. Big lawyer boys need to eat Matt!” You grin, looking up at him from where he looms above you, his tie suddenly feeling very suffocating around his neck.

You can see the cogs turning in his head, thinking of a way he can bend you over his desk and fuck you so hard you can’t walk for a while afterward without Foggy and Karen knowing - but unfortunately that doesn’t seem like it’ll come to fruition.

“You’re killing me sweetheart. i have so much work to do.” Matt groans, hands sitting on your thighs still, stroking up and down and reminding you of the slick forming between them as the ache grows stronger. “You don’t have to do it all now though, right? you can take a few minutes out…” your hands move to his tie, tugging him down slightly letting your lips run across his cheek, and it’s like you can feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention.

Suddenly Matt walks over to his office door, swinging open the door and pointedly saying, “Karen, Fog, I need a moment with my girlfriend can we have a few minutes.” Not even giving them time to respond before closing and locking his door again.

“They’re insatiable.” Foggy sighs, grabbing his lunch and walking out, Karen walking with him still laughing to herself.

[roryculkinsgf]

million dollar man // coriolanus snow

Description: Christmast Eve with breadwinner Coriolanus Snow, taking care of his future wife

TW: smut, dom!coryo, housewife!reader, controlling over the reader, praise kink

Word count: 1.5k

(English isn't my first language, and I do not own the characters)

One for the money,

two for the show, 

I love you, honey,

I'm ready to go...

Round Christmas time everything seems  a bit too busy, crowded streets and malls. People on every corner, not single free space to live. The world just turns that way as soon as November comes around. There's no exception for the chaos, not even in Capitol. City created and ruled by the cruel men who swore to be good, failing audibly after their proud hearts wished for power over ordinary human beings. Many rebels wished to tear this fucked up system down, district citizens buried themselves in fear and your boyfriend wasnt making it any better. A boy who once promised to destroy the bad, turned himself right into the dead void. Heart beating, blood pumping, but oh kindness faded by those who dared to doubt. He became a living corpse, only one who bring warmth into his existence was you. Each time you wanted to leave for better, you came running back. Something very wrong seemed like a drug in him, but before you could realize, your addiction became deadly. Merry Christmas, I guess?

"Morning, sweetheart," he splashed a kiss into your cheek. His hands grabbed you by your waist in a dominant manner. He kinda liked to show off his control, except not just kinda and mostly over you. "Morning, Coriolanus." Soft moan spilled into his mouth when he squeezed your little butt. You could hear as he kissed your neck, muffled words of "all mine". Normally you'd probably let him go on and bend you over the kitchen desk, but it was Christmas Eve today, and he simply has to wait. 

"Not now, Coryo..s-stop..." you whimpered at the feeling of him taking the best of you. His hand was moving lower by the slowest pace posssible. His fingers slipped into your underwer, you closed your eyes. One single slick by your soft spot and suddenly he wasn't touching you at all. 

When you opened your eyes, he was holding a cup and sipping the bitter-sweet liquid from it. Nothing about his expression mentioned the fact that you two almost did it. "What are you staring at, m'lady? It's you who told me to stop, remember? And you've got work to do anyway. Get into it, for me." He ordered with a smug grin not long before he walked to his office, ready to let you prepare for this whole day all by yourself. You were the housemaker afterall, not him. And you have to make sure your man is  pleased, it's your job.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"God Lord, Y/n...I've never eaten such a food in my life. That ham, and the mashed potatoes. Don't even get me started on the casserole, somehow you made me love green beans, princess. You're one hell of a cook, know I'm keeping you forever." There was simply no way to stop his praises. Damn well you knew you deserved them, you worked you ass off. The dishes you prepared were strange to you, yet familiar after each smile he gave you when he took the first bite. Seeing him fulfilled was all you needed.

"Thank you so much, Coryo. I made sure to prepare the best dinner I could manage, and as I see it payed off quite well, didn't it?" A warm smile filled your cheeks. He coudln't resist to reach his hand to your face, fingers delicately stroking your flushed skin. "Are you so red just for me, princess? You're such a pretty little sweet thing." 

Kisses splanded all over your lips, washing you over with passion. His brain got foggy just from the pureness of you, the redness of your skin each second. Because as they passed, he kept pulling you closer and closer, until no forces could ever possibly seperate you. His arms held you, shield from blood and flesh, the good feeling of being protected and elogiezed by a man. You gave in. No one could ever have you as much as he did, you sure know that.

Rough lips bruised your neck, leaving tumescent spots for you to admire tomorrow. Long way along your collarbone, shoulders. You were becoming his each moment, the world belonged to you two and he rulled every way that Earth dared to orbit for you. 

Part of the sky crashed when he rougly pushed you against the kitchen table. Your chin met a set of ceramic bowls fillled with food. Few glasses, wine and regular ones slipped when you pulled at the fancy cloth, what was shiny got poured over with all sorts of things. The great scent of food turned into a gross mess when a pot ringed as it hit the floor. Soup was flooding all over the dining room and you wanted to cry. No, you wanted to grab your shit-ass boyfriend by his shirt and choke him to death for daring to ruin hours of your hard work.

The sound of him rolling his eyes filled the room. "You're gonna clean that later, now be pretty and good for me. You know you can, darling." He massaged your ass under that mini skirt he made you wear. Big manly hand squeezed you until you felt incredibly helpless and small. He enjoyed he could boss you around, do anything to your tired body, play with you however he wanted to. And so he did. 

"Let me get you dolled up." From his pocket he pulled a thin fabric, wasting no time he began twisting it around your thighs, legs, butt even. It was a red ribbon, you didn't even process when he layed it over your wet pussy. 

"W-what's that for?" You couldn't understand. "Just...preparing a gift for myself, so fucking soft and all mine." He dropped right to his knees, as he pushed his face in between your butt cheeks. digging deep in he made a way across your pussy with his tongue. Somehow he was on you, in you. Digging into you, and you could feel heat all over yourself. His nails kept you in your place as he ate you out. Seeming like a starved man, he couldn't just get enough of his future wife. You were even more pressed against the table than before, nothing to muffle your moans against. Whispers echoed throughout the whole room, his pride and ego expanding with each sound.

"C-coryo..." You whimpered audibly. Closing your eyes so hard, shutting them in pleasure thinking they might not even ever open again. You couldn't stop grasping at the cloth, not until his face switched to two long fingers. He stood up and with one arm pinned you against himself, with other he got lost inside of you deep. "Shhh... princess, my pretty girl. You better get that pussy stretched out good, before I fuck you hm? Be good and let me  prepare you for me, mkay?" Despite your body shaking you nodded to his words. You could hear him purr. "That's my girl."

More minutes passed, you felt already fucked out. Brain soggy and legs trembling, all wet from how much he overstimulated you. When he pulled out, he braught his hand to your face. "Taste yourself, love. Go on." With your tongue you licked all the silky substance off. Each lick drawn made his pants tighten even more. His dick was begging to be touched, to be taken care of. 

Even if it embarassed you all too well, his will to be in charge and the bigger one just took over you. "Master, please... I... need you. S-so bad..." you whispered. Hot breath brushed around your neck. "Oh, I know you do, my princess." He unziped his pants. "You're always such a fuck-doll for me, sweetie." His dick slid out is boxers, standing in pride and arousal. "Want your master to fuck you pretty now?" He already teased your clit by fucking into the space between your thighs and pussy. "Mhm.." You whimpered. "Oh, but honey you know I need words. Tell me what you want and consider it done. Hm?" You sighed and breathed out all your self-respect into the heavy air with the  words: "Yes, please fuck me, master. Deep and hard, I can take it all for you."

"Such a good girl," He whispered as his cock slipped right into you. Precum softened the first thrust, but the ones following braught your face to red. He couldn't help but smack at your bare flesh, like fucking you wide opened wasn't enough. Like he needed to feel you all around, in his hands, in his whole power. And fuck it, let's be honest, you liked that. Each firm thrust that just felt like a crack into your body, every hit, every moan that vocalized from his mouth, his thumb massaging your tiny clit. Surrounded by torturing pleasure, you let him make this the most unforgettable Christmas of all your lives.

[valscigarette]

Summary: Val gets so overstimulated by his own prehensile dick that his demonic form comes out. inspired by this post by @shushposting!

Tags: Vox/Val, Val/Angel, Val/Velvette, Poly Vees, Dubious Consent, Overstimulation, Toxic Relationship, Smut

See AO3 or DM me for more detailed warnings!

WC: 7.9k | AO3

-

By now, Vox has the ritual down to a science. Every so often, just infrequently enough to avoid suspicion, he taps a couple drops of Velvette's love potion into Val's morning Four Loko and jumpstarts the program for his desktop camera feeds to follow Valentino for the day. It’s easy. Val never fails to leave his drink unattended at some point over breakfast and no attendant would dare point out Vox spiking his drink. Even Kitty, ever watchful, says nothing. 

“I'm busy today, just so you know,” Vox lies while Valentino curses out their toaster one morning. “Back-to-back meetings. Try not to have any emergencies.”

He pulls the bottle of potion from his pocket and draws up the usual two drop dose, leaving only a thin veneer of the glossy liquid at the bottom. It always amazes him how potent it is; the formula is derived from Val's own pheromones, after all. The love potion dissolves easily into the acidic drink, and, when a quick glance confirma Val is still fighting to get his bread back, Vox tips the remainder of the bottle in as well. It's hardly anything, he reasons. There's no sense in leaving so little behind. 

As he slips the empty container back into his blazer, Val turns around with a frown twisted across his face. “Vox, the fucking toaster is broken again!”

“Did you hear me? At all?” Vox asks, already getting up to assist with the not broken toaster. He leans into Val's space as he pulls the lever back up. It was knocked off track by Val's struggling, but his breakfast is salvageable and Vox can have the toaster replaced after the fact. “You're on your own today. Don't call me unless the tower is burning down.”

Once Vox plates up the toast, Val swans back to the table to spread spiked butter over it. Generally, Vox can't remember a second of the time he's known Valentino and seen him sober, and it no longer surprises him how much Val takes in a single day. So long as the studio keeps pumping out blockbusters and Val stays too high to notice a little extra kick in his drink, Vox is content to let him bury his days in a foggy quagmire of his own making. Val's less of a bitch the higher he is, anyway.

“Yeah, yeah, your schedule’s tight, Papi's got more important things to do than me,” Val drawls. He slugs back a heavy gulp of his Four Loko and doesn't so much as twitch. “Tell me, Vox, when did you get so fucking boring?”

Vox takes one of Val's hands and rubs his knuckles, a charming grin cutting into his screen. “These meetings keep the lights on, babydoll.” His own face mirrors back at him hundreds of times in Val's compound eyes, dancing as his gaze shifts over the reflections. “If anything goes wrong, take it up with Velvette. I'm sure she'd be,” Vox stops, his fans whirring like an inhale to cool his rapidly heating processors, “happy to assist. Provided you leave her models alone.” He raises Val's hand to his screen for a kiss, and doesn't begrudge Val a flirtatious caress along the bottom of his screen as he pulls away. 

Val groans low in the back of his throat, but it's too early in the morning for him to put up much of a fight. He finishes his breakfast in relative peace, scrolling through Sinstagram, texting Angel Dust, and occasionally slurping his drink, none the wiser about how long the day ahead will be for him. Vox can barely contain himself long enough to see Val out the door of the kitchenette, still nursing his Four Loko as he lights a cigarette.

The second he can drop the pretense of his own standard morning routine, Vox zaps into the nearest security camera. The electrical currents carry him down to his office, where a set of screens on the right side of his desk follow Val through the hallways of Vee Tower exactly as planned. His day is empty. There are no meetings. All Vox has to attend to is his own libido as he watches the love potion slowly rip Val’s self control to pieces. 

Its effects first make themselves known on the elevator to the studio. A simple twitch is all it is. Val looks down at his crotch, mildly surprised by the semi, but overall nonplussed as he finishes the last of his drink. He’s probably watching porn on his phone, Vox thinks, and can blame the early tinges of arousal on it. 

Valentino bursts into the studio like a model entering a runway, his wings a cape and his smoke a dramatic cloud, and the plain irritation on his face only enhances the beauty of his harsh angles. One of Vox’s cameras, outfitted with a zoom lens, closes in on the shape of his cock trapped in his tight white bell bottoms. Shifting shadows hint that the eager thing is already squirming, probably mere minutes from plunging into Val's own hole to sate its drug induced need. Vox cups himself in sympathy, stroking his thumb along the length of his bulge. 

“Angel,” Val hisses. His gravelly voice carries across the studio, distracting Angel Dust from the makeup artist turning a black eye into a smokey shadow look. “I need to see you in your dressing room.”

With a flurry of assurances to the cosmetician, Angel follows Val to his dressing room, unable to get a single questioning word past his lips before Val bends him over his vanity, yanks down his panties, and shimmies his own pants down just enough to let his swollen, prehensile dick out. The side angle from a visible security camera is perfect for admiring it until Val hunches over Angel, guiding himself into place and humming in pleasure as the slut beneath him squeaks. At that, Vox switches to a hidden camera among Angel’s makeup brushes, which allows him to watch Val’s tongue loll out and antennae quiver as he pounds Angel so hard the vanity dents the drywall.

“Fuck, fuck, Val,” Angel whimpers, scrabbling for purchase against the smooth glass top until Val pins all four of his wrists with two hands of his own. “Val, please, I’m gonna-”

Val shoves his head down against the vanity to shut him up, evidently not in the mood to hear his begging. “Just a couple minutes,” he coos, barely audible to the microphones in the room over the wet slap of his balls against Angel’s ass. “You can take it.”

None of the cameras are positioned appropriately for Vox to see the bulge Val is undoubtedly making in Angel’s stomach, but he can forgive it when this is hardly going to be Valentino’s last orgasm of the day. It’s just his first. Watching Val’s thrusts lose rhythm, Angel’s eyes cross, convinces Vox to unbuckle his belt, unzip his fly, and shove his slacks down to his knees. He knows he has all the time in the world to take care of himself. 

Angel doesn’t finish, but does keen in at an obnoxious pitch when Val does. A rich, velvety moan accompanies the final few thrusts, each hard enough to bruise and pushing more jizz to spill down Angel’s quaking thighs. Moments later, he's still panting and shivering when Val pulls out to continue jerking his now glistening cock, either unwilling or unable to stop pleasuring himself as Angel weakly pulls against the hands still pinning him in place. 

“Clean yourself up before the shoot,” Val snaps. Coming has done nothing for him, and he must realize the sort of day he’s in for. “If we fall behind schedule because you’re a disgusting cumslut, I’ll make you regret it, Angelcakes.”

“Got it, Val,” Angel hiccups.

As soon as Val lets go of him, he stumbles out of the dressing room to get to the studio shower. Left alone, Valentino plops down on the couch and lets his head fall back. The whir of Vox’s cameras zooming in on him must get his attention, because he opens one eye and bares his teeth. 

“Thought you were too busy for me,” he bitches, legs twitching apart as he pets a vein down the side of his cock, visibly trying to keep its interest in his hand so it doesn’t go searching for something better, like Val’s dripping pussy behind it. 

In answer, Vox strokes himself faster and waits for Val to realize he can’t walk out into the studio touching himself like a desperate pervert. No one’s coming to help him out with his little problem, and nothing would help anyway except to let the love potion run its course. 

“You better not be saving this to your spank bank, Voxxy,” Val spits, his back arching as his writhing dick finally escapes his grasp and presses into his hole. “You ffffuck- fucking asshole.”

After a few indulgent minutes, he clenches his fists, wipes the sweat off his brow, and eases his pants back up his hips, though their tightness does little to obscure the lewd act happening beneath. His staff ought to know better than to acknowledge it, though, when Valentino perches in his director’s chair with his legs crossed and calls action. 

For the first half of the day, Val puts up an admirable fight against the overstimulation of being fucked by his own dick non-stop. He disguises his several orgasms behind cursed insults and bites so deep into the heel of his hand that his teeth come away dark with blood. Vox doesn’t get himself off as he watches, but occasionally manages to get a few emails sent off when Val gets himself together enough to complain about the costumes or the performances. 

Vox knows things are getting interesting when Val calls for a lunch break. The mere idea is laughable, unless one happens to know it’s an excuse to clear the set so he can handle whatever meltdown possesses him on a given day. Practically the second he’s alone, Val calls Vox.

It takes a lot of willpower, but Vox lets it ring all the way to voicemail, eyes locked on the obscene movement in Val’s visibly soaked pants. He doesn’t answer the second time either. He also doesn’t feel guilty when Val throws his phone into a wall out of pure frustration. After all, Vox did warn him he would be too busy to help today.

“You little shit,” Val whines in the general direction of a camera, wobbly, like he might cry. “You can’t leave me like this Vox, get your flat fucking ass up here and help me!”

Truly, Vox calls Velvette out of the kindness in his heart. She answers for him right away, her end of the line chaotic with the background of her workshop, though she’s pristinely put together herself. “What, Vox?”

“I gave Val some love potion this morning,” he tells her, politely maintaining a high enough camera angle so as not to flash her with his own body or Valentino’s. “Great work on that formula by the way, my dear.” She grins with the compliment, a perfect opportunity for Vox to offer, “He could use a break if you’re up for it.”

Her smile drops as quickly as it appeared. “I’m not playing ring-around-the-cock-cage,” she snarks.

“Of course not.” Vox placates her by texting over a link to his live feeds of Valentino. “But I know you like him all pathetic, so I thought I’d give you a go.”

Velvette harrumphs and considers his proposition, before relenting with a long-suffering sigh as if he’s asked some gargantuan favor of her by offering up an overstimulated, submissive Valentino on a platter. “Fine. But you owe me one.”

“Whatever you please, darling,” he says. “Your wish is my command. Now, go put on a show, I’ll be watching.”

“Nasty prick.”

She flips him off, face wrinkled in faux-disgust before hanging up the call. On looking back at his screens, Vox finds Val spread out on the studio floor, massaging the base of his dick that isn’t buried in his pussy, back arched at the overwhelming sensations. The deep v of his low-cut shirt falls open as he thrashes to occasionally show one of his heart-shaped nipples, pierced and nearly as flushed as his cheeks with excitement. It takes minutes for Velvette to appear, but they drag on forever when Vox has such a delectable sight to enjoy.

“Come on, Val,” Velvette says, her voice ringing out before the cameras catch her walking up to his prone form on the ground. “You shut down the whole studio for this?” she asks. One of her sharp heels kicks Val’s hand away from his crotch, allowing her a better view of his situation. “This is embarrassing for you. You seriously can’t control your needy dick long enough to get through the day?”

To his credit, Val manages to speak between the wet hitches of his breath. “It’s not my fault,” he spits out. Excess drool puddles around his lips and tongue, slurring his speech. “I can’t make it stop, and fucking Vox won’t pick up his phone!” He lifts his hips toward Velvette but she backs away before he can touch her.

“If you only want Vox, then…” Velvette teases.

In an instant, Val is falling over himself to take it back, practically snapping his neck with how quickly he springs up on his knees. “No, princesa, I’m happy to see you!” Vox’s cock leaks at the desperation in Val's tone, the tremor in his hands as he claws up the hem of Velvette’s skirt. “Don’t go. Daddy’ll make it worth your while, don’t you worry your pretty head-”

“Shut up,” Velvette interjects. “Just- take your pants off and try not to make a fucking mess.” 

She helps Val kick off his shoes so they can strip away his bottoms, exposing him to the cold studio air. Several of Vox's cameras whirr as they focus on the million dollar view of Val's mindless, almost tentacle-like cock cruelly fucking him past him past the oversensitivity. Oh, he's going to be crying before Velvette finishes with him. 

The morning's buildup of tension surges in Vox's stomach as Velvette straddles Valentino, perfectly positioned to grind against the base of his cock and fondle his pretty nipples. A chirping trill breaks from his mouth when she pinched one between her fingers. “If you want a break,” she huffs, “we have to work for it. You know that, babes.”

Val moans a few slurred words that sound enough like an agreement for Velvette to slice off her panties to get them out of the way. Later, she'll absolutely invoice Vox their cost. At present, his cameras perfectly capture her sopping pussy rutting against Valentino. They're set to record automatically when he runs the program tracking Val, but he has to double check that he'll be able to watch the two of them forever. Velvette's exquisite heat is enough to tempt Val's cock out of himself and into her as well, giving Vox yet another gorgeous shot to obsess over for weeks before it plunges into her.

“Goddammit, Valentino!” she yelps, digging her nails into his chest. 

At the same time, Val's hips jerk up to help him bury his dick in her cunt, the poor thing helplessly repeating “Thank you Velvette, thank you, thank you,” like he's forgotten how to say anything else. Dozens of cameras strewn about the studio give Vox every shot he could want, including a down-angled lens that lets him see both the place where Val disappears onto Velvette, and Val's swollen pussy that twitches every time he bottoms out in her. Pearls of come bead from between his lips and drip to the floor, and it's the realization of how much Val has already come that pushes Vox over the edge. 

He's alone, but still bites the inside of his cheek to quiet his moan as he spills over his hand, the suddenness of it only intensifying the sensations. On screen, Val has found the perfect angle to drive fucked out little “ah”s from Velvette's painted lips on every thrust. His legs betray him. They kick out, restless and useless, a perfect tell that he's past his limit by midday. 

“So perfect, so fucking tight,” Val praises. His lower set of hands find purchase on her hips to aid each fluid motion and the pressure makes Velvette groan. “My pretty dolly.”

“Please shut the fuck up,” she snarls. “I'll cut this thing off and hang it like a trophy in my office, don't test me.”

Contrary to her intentions, this drags another breathless orgasm from him, noticeable only from her offended gasp and the cum frothing around his cock as he continues fucking her. “Y-you can have it, amor,” he chokes out, “it'll grow back.”

“You wish. It's the only worthwhile thing about you.” Velvette's cruelty always impresses Vox, and strikes one of Val's many kinks. “Now hurry up and get me off, I have actual work to get done today.”

When it takes him too long to work up the coordination, she grabs the upper hand not somehow still clinging to his cigarette holder, spits on his slender fingers, and forces it into place so that she can still grind her clit into his palm even if he goes limp beneath her. Their hands make the swell in Velvette's lower stomach look even more obscene, visibly twitching as Val's devilish cock moves inside her. 

“Finally. For a porn overlord, you're useless with a pussy, you know.” Her words don't match the climbing urgency of her motions, but do fit Val's downright sloppy rhythm that he'll be ashamed of when Vox plays this back for him later. “Vox fucks me better.”

“You fucking bitch!” Val cries. 

Although Vox planned on waiting a while for his next round, Velvette's hard-earned praise has him shifting in his seat with pavlovian interest. In his second of distraction, the slight enrages Val enough to flip himself and Velvette over with a heavy thud. The cameras fuzz with the power radiating off him, not long enough for Vox to register it as anything more than his own malfunctioning systems as he wraps a hand around himself once more. 

Velvette moans under Valentino, who has found the energy to put his back into each harsh thrust and growl, “I'll show you who fucks better.”

The spurt of jealousy surpasses his exhaustion and frustration enough for Val to drill her into the floor, each motion rhythmic and punishing in the way only a professional cam achieve, one of his many hands busy circling her clit between them.

“I can do this all day, Mami.” Every time Val thrusts into her, Velvette slides up the marble floor, until she wraps her legs around his waist for purchase. “All-” he interrupts himself with a whine, “all night, too.”

He's fucking her too hard for Velvette to get out a response, but her wordless moans say enough. She probably meant to rile him up. It worked beautifully, and Vox files away a mental note to buy her the most extravagant gift basket in the entire Pride ring tomorrow. Beads of sweat roll down Val's back like invitations for Vox's tongue, and each whimper in symphony with Velvette beckons him to join them but he promised himself he'd wait. It'll be so much better to deal with Val tonight after an entire day of this.

“Mi princesa.” Val's voice is equal parts breathless and honey-sweet, as saccharine as his dopamine riddled drool that Vox can see soaking stains into Velvette's top. “So beautiful, you, shit, you drive me fucking crazy.”

She doesn't reply so much as arch into him, nails digging into his skin once more and drawing enticing furrows of blood down the expanse of his back, mean tips of her heels beating bruises into either side of his spine with each vicious thrust. On another day, when they have the time, Vox could easily spend hours watching the two of them fuck like they're fighting. Today he only has one goal. 

“Don't stop,” Velvette gasps. Her body has gone mostly pliant beneath Val, drowning in the sensation too much to keep giving as good as she gets. “Fucking hell-”

Val presses himself as tightly against her as he can when he comes. His muscles seize, thrown in perfect relief under the calculated, cold studio lights, then go lax as he collapses in a gaggle of uncoordinated limbs on top of her. Still, his cock keeps working on its own. Judging by her whimpers, Vox missed Velvette's orgasm under the beauty of Val's, though he doesn't mind when she's still exhaling pleased groans every couple seconds. 

“Okay, that's enough,” she sighs. 

Muffling his voice in her shoulder isn't enough to disguise Valentino's sob. 

“Cut it out,” Velvette tells him, sharper this time, and shoves at Val's shoulders until he props himself up enough for her to wiggle from beneath him. Her biggest challenge is getting away from his ruthless cock, relentlessly trying to pound into her, but the advantage of being a separate person allows her to get back to her feet as Val's two excessive loads of spend drip down her legs.

Without the reprieve she grants, it takes seconds for Val's dick to find its way back to his hole. His legs collapse almost immediately. The tears come back full force when Val falls on his ass, overcome by his own rare disinterest with sex and the prospect that, like Vox, Velvette will make him deal with his libido on his own. 

“Please don't go,” Val trills, unironically crawling across the floor to Velvette because his legs must be useless. Vox earmarks this section of the footage too. It’s not often he gets to see Val in a state so desperate, so soon. “I’ll do whatever you want! Anything for mi princesa, my beautiful Vel, always so good to me and Vox.” He reaches her inches from the doorway, clumsily petting whatever parts of her he can reach in the distraction of his nonexistent refractory period. If he notices her pushing his hands away, he doesn’t care, continuing to offer, “as much head as you want, my face was fucking made for sitting on,” with no appreciation for her waning patience.

“Piss off!” she finally shouts, kicking Val away with a heel to the chest that will surely bruise.

Now that seduction has failed, Val growls at a pitch subaudible to most sinners, and somehow draws himself up on wobbly, fawn-like legs. He hardly looks threatening, still at the mercy of his own traitorous body, but Vox still snaps screenshots off every camera. “Do you know how many bitches would kill to breathe the same air as me?” If he expects to frighten Velvette into submission, Valentino has another thing coming. “You don’t get to abandon me like this, amorcita.”

“Funny,” Velvette sniffs, “I don’t actually care.”

Before he can issue another empty threat, Velvette whips out her cell phone to take several crisp, high-definition shots that Vox knows he’ll want framed even before they upload to the crowd. Thousands of pixels catch all the glory of Val’s wrecked state: his fur matted by a mixture of his own fluids, Velvette’s, and Angel’s; his cheeks flushed so bright he looks made up; his mouth slack with a suffering that could easily be mistaken for pleasure; his cock a noticeable fiend blurred by its motion. Oh, Vox could kiss Velvette right now. Instead he rewards himself by speeding up his jerking off.

“Interrupt my work day, Val, see what I do with these,” she taunts, waving around her spoils. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Val roars, though he doesn’t make any move to take her phone or stop her from leaving. “Fucking ungrateful, irritating cocktease!” As Velvette exits the studio, his shouting follows her down the corridor, all the way to the elevator. “You’re dead, princesa! FUCKING DEAD!”

She laughs as the elevator doors close.

Vox happily returns his attention to Val, who cannot distract himself forever by fussing at someone who’s not on the same level of the building anymore. The brief reprieve for his overworked pussy seems to have made things worse, reducing Val to a weeping mess as his surge of adrenaline wanes and he fights to get to the set bed before his knees give out beneath him. Honestly, Vox couldn’t have designed this better himself. The studio is the perfect place for Val to take repose as his own cock relentlessly wrecks him. 

He drags a pillow to his face and bites it to muffle the sobbing moans that return with a vengeance now that Val is giving into the helpless state he’s found himself in. What a pretty picture he paints, a magnificent masterpiece of debauchery that makes Vox understand the appeal of the sloppy scenes Val shoots all day. They’d make millions if he wasn’t such a priss about losing control of his dick, because the Sistine Chapel itself couldn’t compare to the tableau Val presents on days like these.

Another orgasm wrenches a scream from Val’s throat, his limbs jerking and the wet spot beneath him on the bed spreading faster than his legs on any-damn-day of the week. Vox has to congratulate himself, as Val’s crying turns to borderline hyperventilating, on picking such delightful business partners. Nothing in Hell compares to this, nor could it come close. And it’s all for him. He knows Val is waiting for Vox to come fix his problem, as always, and it’s a heady power the demon would never consider allowing anyone else except for maybe Velvette- who wouldn’t have put Love Potion in Val’s Four Loko this morning, but might’ve been more sympathetic if she didn’t get off on her participation in Vox’s scheme.

“Vooox,” Val whimpers, hardly discernible through the pillow and its feathery bite wound. The allure of his name in that voice has Vox leaning forward in his chair and squeezing the base of his cock so he doesn’t come from the acknowledgement alone. “Vox…?”

He switches his main camera, a few feet away but in need of an adjustment he knows Val will catch the motion of, given the wanton way he looks at the sea of cameras around him. All it takes a small movement, a few inches to angle the lens higher, and Val lets out a defeated laugh. 

“You, mmm, motherfucker,” he giggles, or perhaps sobs. Vox can see every tear to drip down Val’s face, but there’s a humorous bend to his tone like he reaches when he’s grasping at straws for any semblance of control. It typically takes him all day to break this far, but Vox did tip extra into his drink to empty the bottle, and he can’t find it in himself to fault Val for his own mistake. Not when it turns out this well, that is. “Better be coming to help me, or I’ll- I’ll-”

Vox zaps into his desk and reemerges from the camera he fixed. All the footage runs in the background of his processors, but he won’t complain about the chance to see Val up close. His screens, no matter how high definition, can't capture the scent of sweat, smoke, and cum permeating the air, or the sound of the silk sheets rasping against the waterproof cover beneath them.

“Aw, Val,” he teases, crackling with all the faux-sugar that normally falls under his partner’s purview. “You’ll what?”

Anything coherent disappears into Val’s crying. From the edge of the mattress, Vox can run his claw-tipped hands up Val’s strong thighs, nudging them further apart for a better look at his predicament. The skin on his cock is as pink and raw as his pussy by now from his fruitless attempts at shutting down his libido, as if he truly believed that a go at anyone else would be enough to stifle his need. 

“You’re no better than the rest of your whores, poor thing,” Vox tuts. He sinks into the bed enough to nearly lose his balance when he climbs on, but quickly braces himself with one hand on Val’s ass and the other on his lower back, between his bottom set of shoulder blades. Faintly sparkling sweat sticks to him, a side effect of the potion. But the barest contact drives Val wild, bucking as if he’s not sure whether he wants the attention he’s been demanding or if even Vox’s comparatively innocent touch is beyond the pail. “I can’t wait to show you all the footage later. Don’t worry- I probably won’t release it.” He squeezes Val’s ass to make him shudder. “This is just for me, right, honey?”

Val nods, trembling like he might be close again. “One more, then…?”

He sounds so pathetic, so tired, that Vox might’ve felt bad for him if he wasn’t leaking through his slacks. “Dunno about that. Your cage’s down in my room, and, honestly,” Vox trails off, shifting to pin Val’s legs with his own to stop them from twitching shut, “you already shut down the studio, and I’m not marking today as a loss.”

He knows well enough that his fingers alone won’t be enough to coax Val’s dick out of place, but he still traces the swollen point of connection where it disappears into his cunt, constantly rolling and grinding with more mechanical precision than Vox’s best designed machines. The joke really is on whatever God stuck them down here: nothing could be more heavenly than this.

“Do you know how many times you’ve come today?” Vox asks. “I counted a round dozen, but I might’ve missed some.” He rocks his hips into Val, which is barely satisfying, but nonetheless triggers his cooling fans to top speed and wires a shock over his body. “What’s your single-day record, anyway? It’s higher than twenty, if I remember correctly.”

The implicit warning breaks through to Val. He shoves the pillow away and fights to prop himself up enough to tearfully beg, “Don’t, Papi, I can’t.”

“Sure you can!” With little more effort than swatting a fly, Vox summons his cables to encircle Val’s wrists and ankles, each pulled flat to the bed until the moth is spread out for him and unable to wiggle more than a couple inches in any direction. In the chaos, he runs a quick records search as well. “You did twenty-four, one on each hour, for a New Year’s special a couple decades back. But you’re not the record-holder.” Vox abandons him on the bed. “That would be your pet project, Angel Dust. Last Valentine’s Day, you got a round thirty out of him. We never released it, but I’ve got it all on camera in case we decide to.” He pats Val’s ankle affectionately. “You’re not letting that whore outdo you.”

“Vox.”

Pretending not to hear him, Vox finds Val’s director’s chair to drag over for a better view. Nothing changes in the moments his back is turned, but he can’t stand to miss a moment of the best show of Val’s career--especially not when he finds the seat of the chair still damp. 

“Calm the fuck down,” Vox assures once he’s perched at the foot of the bed, studying Val like he’s trying to commit every detail to memory in case his cameras fail. “Like you said, you were made for this. Cry all you want, sweetheart. I’m not here to help you.”

Either Val is worked up to the point that words are enough to send him into yet another orgasm, or Vox’s timing was perfect to the instant. It’s a victory either way. As Val babbles into the sheets, his wings begin to flutter and struggle too with the inescapable stimulation. Vox can’t strip his suit away fast enough, probably should have stripped it off before he came, but the combination of his dizzying hard-on and the pure filth of Val laid out in front of him make the layers unbearably warm.. 

“Fuck, if you could see yourself, Val.” Vox can’t decide whether it’s better to finish himself off now, and last longer when he gets around to fucking Val later, or if he should draw each climax out to its highest potential before letting himself enjoy them. “I’ve been nice. I always come to help when you can’t get ahold of yourself.” Choppy wheezing is music to his ears. “I’ve earned a front row ticket here, don’t you think? Raise those hips a little.” When Val doesn’t so much as try to move, he uses the cables to rearrange him like a doll. “Let Daddy see. Don’t tell me you’re shy now; you look gorgeous.”

Val gags on the length of his useless, slimy tongue, and slurs unintelligibly. The change in angle is enough to let the searching tip of his cock probe that much deeper, wrenching a broken scream from his throat as he seems to come again, even if his shriveled balls are too empty to pump any more jizz out: another moment Vox bookmarks. 

“There’s thirteen, baby. Just eighteen more to go.”

Something in Val breaks and he struggles with renewed vigor. For all the times Vox has encouraged his favorite little interruption, he’s never dosed out this much in one sitting, and as the air thickens with demonic power, he wonders if he may have pushed Val too far this time. Funny, considering Vox hasn’t even made him cum that many times yet; they have longer sessions than this before breakfast, some days. 

“Vox, Papi, pleeease,” Val crows, pulling hard enough for one of his shoulders to dislocate with a bright pop. He’s a real mess. A flap of his wings generates enough wind to knock over a couple of cameras but still does nothing to save him, which is no one’s fault but his own, because it’s not technically Vox’s responsibility to help him cage his naughty tentacle of a cock. “Can’t do it. Help me, Vox, please.” He gulps for breath before rubbing his face into the blankets to wipe away snot and tears, sniveling, “Please, you have to.”

The safe move would be to wrap this up and defuse the rising tension in Val’s body, like it’s waiting to explode into something far deadlier, but Vox is used to riding the line of too close to the sun. “I don’t have to do jackshit. I do whatever the fuck I want: which, right now, is to watch you,” he sends a lovetap of a shock toward Val’s thigh, “break the Vee Tower orgasm record.”

Val’s responding screech echoes back off the studio walls. In a heartbeat, the bunching muscles of his back bulk and his slobbery tongue lengthens.

“Shit,” Vox mutters. He has moments before Val snaps through the cables like paper chains, quickly rescinding them to spare the extra sparks that are certain to incense the monster before him more. “Val, baby.” Racking his servers for the right words to talk Val down, he finds himself too overloaded to move. As Valentino morphs into his full demonic body, his dick never hesitates in its quest to mold its owners cunt to its exact shape, though the second phallus--one Vox somehow always forgets he has--growing from Val’s pelvis is easily occupied by one of Val’s expert handjobs. 

Whatever biological process generates Val’s aphrodisiac fluids kicks into overdrive, causing his saliva to cascade down his chin and chest, while his slick coats his legs. An extra pair of arms stretches in tandem with the first two as Val’s form grows to dwarf the bed he previously spread out on. In his presence, all the air seems to thin, leaving nothing but the siren’s call of his pheromones, strong enough to make it through the precise filters of Vox’s systems. 

“What’s the matter, amorcito?” His purr resonates through Vox’s chest and vibrates the walls of the building, while the subtle hums and trills he makes are finally loud enough to be heard without Vox cranking his audio sensitivity far higher than is reasonable. “You have a record to break.”

A panicked laugh echoes from Vox’s speakers, filling the room as easily as Val’s voice. “I was joking. You know, how we sometimes laugh at each other’s expense.”

“I get it now.”

Val’s arms shoot out to grab Vox before he knows what’s happening. It feels as if he teleported into Valentino’s embrace, face buried in his chest and still embarrassingly hard dick pressed against his second cock. Being this close puts the size into perspective; Vox couldn’t wrap both hands around it, let alone one, and its length makes him queasy, both attributes that set him against having it this close to him, let alone pressed against him, groin to ribs, like a threat. 

“Let’s be reasonable, dear,” Vox says. Static cuts through his voice, his face, in a betrayal almost worse than his own behavior this morning. “It would rip me in half.”

That tongue, endless and curious as the dick squirming against Vox’s stomach, caresses his body and drenches him in rosy spit. Several errors pop up at once, but he still hears Val murmur, “You’ll get over it.”

“Val. Val, come on.” One of Val’s hands trails through the viscous fluid and smears it down to Vox’s ass. Slender fingers circle his hole, massaging the drool into it and relaxing the muscle with unnatural ease. Vox’s only coherent thought is that it must have a different chemical makeup than the standard stuff. “No. Val-”

Val forces two fingers in. It should hurt, but instead it shoves Vox’s protests from his mind as his body falls limp into Valentino, and he barely notices the hasty addition of a third finger. Though they both know Val is an expert at both prep and fingering for the hell of it, he’s sure the cursory glance against his prostate is an accident because the bastard won’t touch it again. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter, because Val only spends a couple minutes perfunctorily working Vox open before his impatience wins out. Three of his hands--the fucker has too many--lift Vox to position him with the tip of Val’s massive cock kissing his woefully underprepared hole. 

“Val,” Vox entreats in a final desperate attempt, flaring his brightness to its maximum as his eye begins to spin, “you’re not putting that in me.”

He doesn’t get a second of control. Val laughs at him, and begins to press Vox down. Although the tip is flared, it’s still painfully wide from the get-go, and reflex-tears spring up with the first quarter inch. He bluescreens at the half and comes to at the quarter. He’s barely on Val at all and swears he can feel it in his throat with how full he already is.

“Nnn- Not gonna fit,” he chokes.

“Does it hurt?” Val coos, not that he cares. “You’re plenty wet, Papi.”

Vox shakes his head. “No. But I’m fucking full, ‘s not fitting.” The fact that it should hurt doesn’t cross his conscious mind.

“Not with that attitude, it’s not.” A haze of smoke comes on Val’s next exhale, and another one of his endless hands tilts Vox’s screen up so it seeps into his ventilation system. Another wave of warmth, of need, rolls through him in response and he loosens up enough to drop further onto Val’s impossible cock, and feedback squeals at them both in response. “You’re goddamn lucky the other one’s too busy for you, Voxxy.” Fuck, Val’s voice seems to be coming from everywhere, darkly continuing, “or I’d stuff you so full, you’d be in Velvette’s workshop for a fucking month.”

If Vox’s speakers aren’t blown, they're at least broken, judging by the constant static whine as Val works him further onto his cock. When the ridge of the head finally pops in, Vox spasms as he blurts precum into Val’s abs “Fuck, fuck, too much.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” Clearly mocking or not, Val’s voice seems to soothe Vox’s panic as he absorbs more and more of his toxins. “You’re thinking too hard, amorcito.” One by one, Val’s supportive hands let go, leaving Vox at the far lesser mercy of gravity to impale him on his cock. Of course one finds its way back to Vox’s wrists, to prevent him from holding himself up as a defense, and the one holding his screen never moves, but Val achieves his goal of defeating any chance Vox has left of escape as his dick explores to the best of its ability inside him.

At the point Vox thinks another millimeter will cause a crash so hard it takes all of Hell out with him, Val’s body locks up again as he orgasms, no longer too empty to flood Vox with burning, intoxicating cum. There’s too much for him to hold. It presses ruthlessly against his prostate and makes his stomach cramp even as it spills out around Valentino like a fountain.

Vox’s finish pales in comparison, pathetically small when the fullness drags it out of him alongside a glitching moan, though several lights shatter overhead and a rogue shock momentarily freezes Val in place. His system panics and bluescreens once more to prevent a crash, but he boots back up quickly enough that Val is still whimpering his way through the aftershocks. 

“O-okay,” Vox gets out, “that’s enough.”

But he’s still slowly sinking down on Val’s cock with no hope of escape when Valentino sighs, “But we’re only a third of the way there.” At least Val relinquishes his screen, but it’s to press against the bulge in Vox’s tummy with a gusto that makes him simultaneously spurt out a few more drops of cum and gag so hard he tastes bile. “See? Plenty of room, Papi.”

“It’s not- you can’t-”

Val suddenly moves, thrusting up to force himself deeper. “What was that?” Maybe it would be less overwhelming, to be stuffed so full, if Val’s cock wasn’t constantly moving like it’s mapping every square inch of Vox’s insides and will be tested on its findings later. He can’t catch his bearings long enough to have a coherent thought, let alone keep up a debate with Val. When he dares to look down, he can see the outline of it through his skin, rearranging his internal organs to make more room for itself. “Just a few more inches,” Val informs, like he’s not already pressing against parts of Vox that shouldn’t be reachable without dissection. 

Vox tries to say no, but a jumble of technical sounds and error beeps come out instead and Val just keeps pushing. There has to be more of dick inside him than anything else, or so he supposes until Val seizes and comes again. At this point there’s nowhere for it to go besides down what’s left of his cock outside Vox's body.  Val is too far gone to play the slow game and he continuously rabbits up into Vox, fucking him on two or three inches at a time with no regard for the consequences. 

The deepest thrust yet cracks something in Vox’s spinal cord and he loses connection to his left leg, but a complaint is too high a demand for him to fulfill when all he can think about is Val, Val, Val, in and around him, an inescapable fact of reality now. Nothing else matters. Nothing else compares. The complicated mesh of brain matter and AI that makes Vox could be rewiring themselves to dedicate his existence to being Val’s cocksleeve and, at this moment, he couldn’t give less of a shit if his soul depended on it. He can’t understand how Valentino complains about a pleasure so all-consuming as this one. 

As he’s questioning whether Val’s cock ever ends, or if it will keep coming until he bursts like an overfilled balloon, his ass meets the cradle of Val’s hips. “Not so bad is it?” Val simpers. Vox only manages to gurgle. His heart, his lungs, his everything feels flattened and pinned to allow for Val’s monstrous cock. Not only does it continuously rub against his prostate, but the sweeping arc of its movement alights sensitive spots Vox would have never known existed, otherwise. “Feels, ah, so fucking good, Voxxy. Other bitches die of shock before I get this far.”

Somehow that sentence worms its way into Vox’s consciousness like a compliment. No one else could handle Valentino in his full form, but Vox can, and he’s forgotten why he kicked up a fuss about allowing it now that he’s managed the impossible. To reward him, Val’s roaming hands are back. They stroke down his back, trace the bulge in his abdomen, tease his nipples, and work his oversensitive dick.

Val allows the independent movement of his cock to do the work rather than thrusting, which Vox has to remind himself comes from laziness and not any sort of care for the damage he’s capable of causing. Between their moans, the wet sound of Val’s cocks fucking them both fill the silence. 

Then Valentino comes inside him a third time, and whatever happens next is lost to a system crash that knocks out the entire city for several hours. 

Eventually, Vox wakes up on Velvette’s workshop table with his chest sliced open and her nimble little fingers nudging his ribs back into place. She must have turned off his pain sensors, but hadn’t gone to the trouble of washing the copious amounts of spend from his skin. Hardly any of his lower body was spared, and a flaky trail that starts on his screen, floods around his neck joint, and spills down his throat only ends a half-inch above Velvette’s incision.

She glances up at him when she sees his face appear but quickly returns to the task at hand. “Do not tell me how the hell this happened. I cleaned jizz out of places it should never be, Vox. Never.”

“I appreciate it, my dear,” he croaks. She hasn’t gotten to his voicebox yet. But when he wiggles his fingers and toes, they move without issue, which is an improvement over his last memory. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to put me back together; can you imagine Val trying to replace my liver?”

They share a laugh before Velvette reprimands him for moving while she’s working. “Trust me, you’ll want to leave the pain receptors off for a couple days, but don’t forget to take it easy. Val did a number on you this time.”

“Yeah, well.” Vox grumbles, “I told him it was a bad idea.”

She pushes the mechanism that replaces his diaphragm with more malice than necessary, drawing a neon blue bruise to its surface from the rough handling. “I can't fucking wait to watch the video on our next date night.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to tell you about it?”

Velvette leans down to press a kiss to his exposed sternum. “I want you to show me instead.”

A lesser man than Vox would be embarrassed, but he merely grins in anticipation of reliving the memory with his partners in the days to come.

[joocomics]

18+ mdni

i’ve wanted to talk about dom!jungsu who LOVES when you dominate the dirty talk. if jungsu speaks in bed he leans more on the romantic side than the filthy one, but if it’s the opposite for you then it would make him go crazy in the best way possible.

especially if it’s during foreplay.

jungsu who loves when you sit on his lap to slowly grind on his crotch and cover his neck with open mouthed kisses - very slow and gentle; light brushes of your lips and teasing him only with the tip of your tongue every now and then, that’s what works him up the most. his hands take a grip on your hips as arousing words start rolling off your tongue, making his ears and cheeks red, his skin run hot. he likes to hear how bad you need him, how wet you get just by thinking about him. how you miss his cock being deep inside you. in fact, sometimes he finds himself craving it. your seductive soothing voice that gradually turns from innocent and sweet to dirty as you let him know how amazing he makes you feel every time.

he never interrupts you. he listens carefully, letting each and every word you mewl to sink perfectly into his brain, edging him as if you’ve grabbed his cock through his pants. occasionally he speaks out about wanting you just as much; chuckling at your comment about how quickly he popped a boner; wanna give it to you, baby.. now. but he never insists nor tries to take the lead when it comes to dirty talk. you’re perfect at it - your sexy tone, your sensual gaze when you talk, how you’re able to paint the most captivating picture in his mind. he cannot think of anything hotter than that. nothing can compare to the thrill of you describing the panties you’re wearing for him today before gliding your tongue against his ear in a sinful speed, or, pressing your lips into it, moaning softly as he pounds into you just the way you want it.

talking to him during sex is even more impactful. because that’s when you tell him all about what you feel in the present moment, not about what you’re hoping to happen in the next hour. and your pleasure always comes first. as you fuck you can go all out, because he gets drunk on every word, and he just wants to hear more and more and more. the responses you get are occasional broken moans, lots of panting and “baby—“, “please—“, although in his foggy mind he has no idea what specifically he’s begging for, because it all feels so good, he needs more from everything, from you and what you have to offer. the more you talk dirty, the faster his body moves. tell him how amazing his cock feels, how it’s made for you. how you want his cum in your mouth after he’s done with you, because it’s your favorite thing to swallow.

jungsu loves when you’re a bit bolder and dirtier than him in bed.

[farfromstrange]

heyyy can you do Matt Murdock Smut where him and brat!reader are in a heated argument and the reader is short and small, is feisty and takes no shit.

During the argument he says

“watch who the fuck you’re speaking to, I am not one these idiots who take shit from you”

and the reader is like

“I’m not watching it, no prescription with it, even blind at this point…. what are you going to do about it?”

Matt responds

“im going to put you in your place”.

The reader responds

“you can put me in my place, might a fact since you think you’re supposed to scare me and intimidate somebody I have a solution for that”

So the reader drags a chair to hover over him. Both a face to face banter and Matt laughs at her.

During this smut he is teasing the reader saying

“why did you go quiet? Aint so talkative now hotshot?”

Matt degrades her and calls her little girl and is pounding into her until she admits she will stop being a brat and obey Matt.

Please and Thank You!

Hi! Thank you so much for your request (and I am terribly sorry for the long wait). I started this a few days ago but I couldn't find a proper end. I adapted pieces of the dialogue so they would fit, but I used what you told me to, so I hope you like it!

Feisty | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You and Matt get into an argument and he decides it's time to put you in your place again and remind you who you belong to.

Warning: SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI, PWP, established relationship, Dom!Matt, Brat!Reader, cussing, strong language, teasing, degrading, praise kink, vaginal fingering, mentions of oral (f!receiving), rough sex, unprotected p in v, hair pulling, choking, slight breeding kink (?), marking kink, use of "good girl", semi-public sex (office sex), orgasm denial, fluff in the end

Word Count: 3.2k

A/n: This is some filthy shit. The other requests are coming, by the way. I'm just trying to find ways to continue them. My inbox is still open for your thoughts and requests, but keep in mind that it might take some time for me to finish them. I also always have an open ear for anything else you guys feel like sharing. Enjoy! (and thank you for the request, lovely!)

18+ under the cut!

Sometimes, Matt makes you livid. Like, beyond compare, makes-you-clench-your-fists-and-want-to-punch-a-wall livid. He can be the sweetest and most caring partner, but there often comes a time when you want to scratch his eyes out. Today is one of those days. 

You’re not sure what prompted this argument you find yourself in, but it was bound to escalate from the second you muttered a silent, “Fuck you!” Under your breath. 

Foggy and Karen are out, it’s late and you are both way too overworked. You thought you could get away with hiding your investigation into one of his high-profile cases from him after he explicitly told you to stay away from it, but after watching Karen, you got motivated and it wasn’t until the clock struck twelve today that he opened his files to evidence he surely hasn’t put there and he realized what you were up to. Needless to say that his worry has made him angry. He doesn’t understand how you can be so reckless and won’t take a simple ‘no’ for an answer, and it frustrates him to no end that you refuse to have a proper conversation about the danger you put yourself in and the position he now finds himself in. You’ve made your case pretty straightforward, but you refuse to listen, and that’s what drives him up the walls. 

So when you tell him, “Fuck you!” Under your breath, all self-control and tendency to try and be kind snaps in him. 

“Watch who the fuck you’re speaking to,” Matt says. He doesn’t raise his voice, but the amount of pressure he puts behind delivering his words suffices just enough to get his point across, “I am not one of those idiots who take shit from you!”

Other couples fight too, there is no denying that, but there is something that happens almost every time you and Matt get in such a situation. Your words turn into ticking time bombs, and you are quick to explode. He thinks he’s in control, you refuse to bow down, and then the situation escalates to the point you wonder if the neighbors think you two are anything but healthy. And maybe your fights aren’t healthy, but you love each other and you always find common ground. Eventually. 

But not right now. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of doing what he says or admitting whatever mistake he thinks you made. You were just being yourself, really. 

“Watch it?” you repeat, the words rolling off of your tongue like sour candy. “I’m not watching it. In fact, I’m going to act blind just like you and not even remotely watch it.  What are you gonna do about it?”

He chuckles darkly. “I’m serious, you better watch it sweetheart or I’m gonna put you in your place,” he says. There is something about his silent anger that sends shivers down your spine. 

You’re not scared of him; Matt would never hurt you. The exact opposite of fear happens whenever he talks to you that way, and you want to know how far you can push it because this argument is silly and he’s going to realize that soon enough. But you are not one to back down without a fight, and if you want to get what you so desperately crave, he needs to fold first. But God, he is so hot, and he looks even more alluring with his sleeves rolled up and his cheeks flushed like that. 

He towers over you as if he owns you. You’re a good few inches shorter than him, but that has never stopped you before. He likes to make fun of it, you like to make him regret it. You complete each other and yet you tear each other apart just the same. 

You mimic his stance with your hands on your hips and your head slightly tilted and you know it drives him mad. “You can put me in my place. In fact, since you think you’re supposed to scare me, I have a solution to make it easier for you,” you say. Your voice still sounds like sour candy, but he can’t stomach it. He’s almost allergic to it. All he wants is to stuff your smart mouth with his tie, tie you up and fuck you until you can’t walk straight anymore. Perhaps then you will realize that you can’t do everything without facing the consequences. 

Your vision is red like the towel held before a bull in the ring. Reaching for his office at the dinner table, you drag it out and place it before him. You climb on it, making sure you are face-to-face now and you cross your arms. “There, done,” you say. 

Matt takes a moment to register what you’ve done, and you think you’ve finally won, but then he opens his mouth and laughs right at you. That bastard. 

“Don’t laugh at me.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You’re not seriously telling me what to do, are you, sweetheart?” 

“Maybe I am. It’s not my fault you’re being such a dick.”

Bad idea. 

Suddenly, his arms are around your waist. He picks you off the chair and throws you over his shoulder. It’s almost effortlessly how he carries you over to his desk and throws you on it, the wooden legs shaking under the weight. 

“I’m being a dick?” he growls, leaning over you and trapping you against the desk with his arms on either side of you. “I think you need a reality check.”

You try to wriggle out of his grasp as you snap back, “What are you gonna do, hm?”

He smirks. “What am I gonna do with you? You’re being a brat, don’t you think that’s gonna have consequences?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“No. Fuck you!” He swiftly pulls you off the desk and spins you around, arching your back far enough to press your chest flat to the wooden surface. “And I mean that quite literally,” he says. 

You gasp when he grabs the hem of your skirt and roughly bunches it up around your waist. The comeback you had planned out gets stuck in your throat when his hand collides with your bare ass cheek. He gives them both a firm squeeze and his grip is almost territorial, as is the growl that comes straight from his soul into your ear.  

“Why did you go quiet? Ain’t so talkative now, hotshot?” he says. 

He doesn’t waste time. Don’t get me wrong, Matt Murdock could spend centuries between your thighs and it would keep him alive long enough to draw orgasm after orgasm out of you as he devours your sweet little cunt like his last meal over and over again. He could stuff you with his fingers all day and then leave you empty just to be craving more. He could rub your clit as hard as possible, then go slow and gentle until your body quivers with the magnitude of an earth-shattering orgasm that has you screaming his name in ecstasy and makes his neighbors complain. He could do it and he loves to do it, but today, he is anything but a patient man. 

Your panties are soon a mess of ripped fabric on the floor of his office. The wetness seeping out of your pussy hits the cold air and you hiss, but all you get in return is a low chuckle. “What’s wrong?” Matt coos into your ear. “Did my pretty little slut forget how to speak?”

There are many buttons he can push to make you obey, even though you don’t often seem like it, but the way he talks to you is by far the easiest to shut you up. 

He slides his middle finger through your slick folds, gathering the wetness and spreading it over your clit. You jolt. He’s being rough already, and when he shoves his finger inside of you, you moan. He curls it up and hits your G-spot without a single struggle, but that’s all he does. He tells you without words that he knows what you want, but he won’t give it to you. Instead, you hear his belt buckle hit the floor, and then it's the tip of his cock that is rubbing through your arousal. 

Your walls clench around thin air. Your cunt barely lets him in, but he pushes inside of you anyway. The pain mixes with pleasure, your legs squeezed so tightly together, you can feel him bulge your stomach from where your torso is pressed against his desk. All air leaves your lungs. Left behind is a gurgled scream that makes him smirk into your shoulder blades as he licks a long stripe over the back of your shirt. 

You reach back to touch him, but he slaps your hand away. “Only good girls get to touch,” he says, “and you haven’t been a very good girl, have you?”

“No,” you sob. His cock is so deep inside of you now, brushing your cervix with every relentless stroke and you hate it. You hate him for pulling this card because he knows you can’t resist. 

Tears are streaming down your face. 

“Pathetic. Always talking back at me but when it’s my cock inside of you, you suddenly can’t speak.” Matt grabs a fistful of your hair at the same time he slaps your ass. “I shouldn’t even be fucking you right now because quite frankly, you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve my cock and you certainly don’t deserve to come, not like this.”

You clench around him as if to keep him so deep inside of you. “Please, don’t stop. I’m sorry!” your voice echoes through the office in a desperate cry. Your fists are locked up, trying hard not to touch him, but it’s torture. You want nothing more than to put your hands on him, maybe even push him away because God, he is so deep, you’re not sure you’re going to survive. 

Every inch of your body yearns for him. He hits all of the right spots over and over again, and he drives you higher up the precipice, ready to push you over, but you know he won’t let you. It’s the way he purposely avoids touching your clit that tells you that you have to work for that orgasm, but it’s almost impossible when you can’t speak. Every word turns into a moan when he hits the sweet spot inside of you, your eyes roll back and you let out a broken scream of his name. Surely, Foggy and Karen could hear you from home. 

He slaps your ass again, relishing the feeling of the flesh jiggling at the impact. Your skin is hot and sweaty, and there is a clear imprint of his fingers on your hips and your rear now, too. He feels your erratic heartbeat and tastes your arousal in the air. Your muscles clench wildly, and you try your best not to move. You’re moaning, you’re so loud, but no words are coming out of your mouth. It’s just you and him and his cock that manages to make you feel things no man has ever made you feel before. You’re in heaven but at the same time the bus to hell is about to leave, and he is not yet done punishing you. 

Matt grabs a hold of your throat and hauls you back into his chest. “What was that?” he asks, his voice now a desperate puff of air too. 

“I’m s- ugh!” You can’t help yourself; you reach for his hip as he delivers another hard thrust directly against your cervix. 

He slaps your hand away again. “Answer me!” 

“I’m sorry!” Instead, you place your hands on your chest. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- to- fucking hell!”

His grip tightens around your jugular. “Thin ice, sweetheart,” he barks. 

“Please, Matty, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to! I thought I was… I was doing the right thing and I- ah!”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry!”

“Uh-huh, what else? Come on, this isn’t an apology when I can tell your tight little cunt is just desperate to come all over my cock. That’s the only reason you’re apologizing and I am fed up with your fucking attitude.”

He wouldn’t let you come that easily, it becomes crystal clear to you.

Matt pulls out of you entirely, cupping your cunt with his large hand, and starts rubbing your clit. It’s a pace you have gotten used to, but the strength he puts behind the pressure he applies once again renders you speechless. 

He smirks, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Oh, you’re so wet for me. You’re dripping. I could smell you even from the other end of the city. You’re so desperate, it’s pathetic. You need to come so badly, don’t you? You love when I talk to you like the dirty little whore you are, hm?”

“F-” You bite your lip until you can taste copper on your tongue. “Matthew!” He delivers a hard blow to your clit and you jolt, every fiber of your being high with electricity.

The pain only adds to the arousal that is flooding out of you, or it feels that way because he simply won’t stop, even when you beg him to. You could utter your safeword, but as much as it hurts, his punishment feels so damn good, your body just wants to let go and come. He just has to let you come, and you hate him that he is playing games that make it even harder for you not to.

“That’s not an answer,” he says. 

“Yes,” you choke out, “I love it!”

“I can feel how close you are, baby. You’re squeezing me so tightly.”

“Please, just- I’ll do anything, just let me come!” He has you right where he wants you. 

“Is that so?” He makes you feel so stupid, but you love it. 

“Yes!”

“Then tell me what I want to hear and maybe I’ll put my cock back inside of you. If you don’t, well… I’ll make better use of that big mouth of yours since you love to tell me how much bigger you can be, see if you can swallow as much as you like to chew, but I doubt it.”

Matt’s the cruelest when he stops right before you can tumble over the edge. You grip the desk, your chest heaving with abandon as the orgasm dissipates. He turns you around and grabs your chin roughly between his fingers. “Talk,” he demands. 

You swallow, his brown eyes wild, but you could never be scared of him. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, and then, hoping you’re right with your assumptions, “I’ll stop being a brat and do as I’m told,” you say. “You were right, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything, just please! Please…”

The faintest hint of a smile shows on his face and finally, he leans down to kiss you. It’s a heated kiss, his tongue already halfway down your throat, but you take that as an invitation to touch him. 

Your ass hits the desk’s surface and he spreads your legs again. This time, he slides in a little slower, sensing the soreness of your muscles. Though as soon as his cock is sheathed deep within you, his hips start snapping in the same relentless rhythm from before again. 

You cling to him and the desk, pulling at his hair and just hoping he will have mercy on you this time. As his pelvis grinds against your clit, his tip brushing your G-spot followed by the relentless assault of your cervix, it doesn’t take long for you to fly to the top of the cliff, ready to fall off. 

He kisses you again. “Good girl,” Matt murmurs. 

The praise makes you clench. 

“Such a good little slut.”

He knows exactly how to use his words, the fine line between degradation and praise that blurs into pleasure. He doesn’t hurt you with malicious intent, he hurts you just right where pain and pleasure meet, and he does it because he loves you. He may not always seem like it, especially while you’re fucking, but this is what you both crave, this is what you both need, and he does it perfectly every single time. You can’t get enough of him, he is everywhere, and you couldn’t bare to lose him. 

This time, it is you who kisses him. He can feel the vulnerability in your touch, how your nails no longer dig into his skin but rather caress him. You’re close, clenching, and your moans seem so close to his ear, his cock starts to twitch. He can feel the pressure building alongside yours. 

He changes the angle of his thrusts a little, grabbing your thigh and pushing it up against his chest. “Tell me,” he pants, “Who do you belong to?”

You whimper, “You.”

“That’s right. And whose pussy is this?”

“Yours!”

“Yeah. You have such a fucking big mouth, it’s infuriating. But it’s my mouth. Everything about you is mine, do you understand? No one else gets to have you like this, touch you like this, or see you like this. You get that?”

“Yes!” you cry out as you throw your head back, and his hand is right back at your throat. 

Matt grunts. “Good girl. That’s a good-” he thrusts forward hard, “fucking-” he pulls out and thrusts back in, bottoming out fully, before repeating the same motion as he finishes with a loud, “girl. Now fucking come for me!”

Your body responds to his command before your brain can even register it. The orgasm crashes into you like the wave of a tsunami. Your thighs lock around his hips, you’re shaking, you’re falling, and your moan turns into a scream that is barely muffled by the hand that is still choking you, still holding on as the warmth of his cum fills your abused cunt.

He crashes your lips together, swallowing your noises. With every anguish thrust, he makes sure his cum stays seated deep within you, a reminder that you are no one’s but his, and he’s the only one who gets to mark you like that. Always. 

You wouldn’t want it any other way. 

The moment after is silent. Only your labored breathing fills the air. Matt buries his head in your neck and he holds you there. The roughness from before it’s gone. He is gentle now, seeking your comfort and maybe something else he can’t describe. You melt into his touch. He holds you close and you do the same for him, stroking your hand through his hair. You’re both breathless but you’re calm, and all the stress from before falls off of your shoulders. 

“You okay?” you ask once you find your words again. 

He nods, silently at first, but then he slowly lifts his head. “Did I hurt you?” he asks. 

You’re quick to wipe the guilt off his face. “I’m perfect.”

“Okay, good.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I was worried there for a second.”

“You could never hurt me.”

“That’s not entirely true”

“Matthew-”

“I could tell you you’re hot when you’re feisty, but that you’re wrong about 98% of the time.”

You feign a gasp. “Ouch!” you press a hand to your chest. “That was harsh.”

“See?” he smirks, and it tells you that he has found back to himself rather quickly. “Told you,” he says. 

With a chuckle, you pull him down to press a kiss to his swollen lips. “I love you,” you say. 

And Matt is quick to return the sentiment with an even gentler kiss, “I love you too.”

You know that the next time you two fight, you will act the same, you won’t shut your mouth and he will once again find himself agitated enough to fuck you against every surface he can find, but if he knows one thing it’s that he wouldn’t have it any other way, and he loves how feisty you are regardless of what you say or do. He’s head over heels in love with you, and you are a real keeper. 

At least with you, he will never have a dull moment again in his life. That counts for more than you could possibly know. And as he’s holding you close, his cock still buried deep inside of you, he thanks God for putting you on his path. 

[rheian]

dividers © || header by me || total fics : 27

The man, the myth, the devil himself! sorz I haven't been posting much (and by that, i mean by a whole ass semester) school has been kicking my butt.

the first few fics in this rec list are pretty heavy. if you aren't in the mood for that, skip to "Maybe Redemption is Stories to Tell" !! anyways, have some of my favorite fics about this guy.

nothing's a gift by eluvion (T, 7k words, completed)

summary: The Sokovia Accords pass. From a corner of New York, Matt watches history repeat itself.

cw: referenced suicide and child abuse, ableism, american militarism, dehumanization, police brutality, american politics in general, anti-sokovia accords || ok, kinda controversial fic due to the nature of the sokovia accords BUT please do read it! It is an actual experience. You can absolutely tell that the writer spent a LOT of time on this fic and is wonderfully researched.

all the glory when you ran outside by whitchry9 (T, 10k words, completed)

summary: When Matt is thirteen years old, he breaks his leg. Turns out it's cancer. (Radioactive materials can have that effect.)

cw: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!!!, underage kissing || i was so absolutely heartbroken. What the fuck.

Little devil by Timpaxew (G, 13k words, completed)

summary: Tony’s counting his blessings, because honestly this could have been worse. Babysitting a de-aged eleven year old vigilante may be a lot harder than he’d thought it be, but at least Peter’s here to help. And at least no one else was turned into children. Baby daredevil was a lot less cute than Tony would have thought. This whole child solider thing was more depressing, than anything. Tony was going to kill this stick guy.

cw: child soldiers, everything that comes with matt murdock’s backstory

small potatoes by deniigiq (NR, 1.9k words, completed)

summary: The road between ten and fifteen had been a slow descent into bad and then worse. (Matt had a hard time in foster-care. It affects the way he relates to Peter.)

cw: child abuse, suicidal thoughts, suicide || “i’m i’m crying fuck” me too past me. me too.

To Know Him by withthekeyisking (M, 19k words, completed)

summary: Recently orphaned, Matthew Murdock is in high demand. And this time, Stick isn't the one to find him.

cw: brainwashing, emotional manipulation, rape, child soldiers, child abuse, typical warnings for the red room, hydra, and wilson fisk || one of my all time fav fics about matt!! do note that it has an open ending.

The Devil You Know by IsisKitsune (T, 44k words, completed)

summary: ... is better than the one that doesn't know you. Matt woke up in an unknown place. He couldn't remember going to sleep. Had, in fact, remembered being unable to sleep and just heading for the chapel to pray, hoping to wear himself out and calm his Always overactive mind... How did he get here?

cw: past child abuse, child soldiers, ableism, captivity

Of Monstrous Shape by Rosalui (M, 10k words, completed)

summary: “Put me in the ring,” Matt said. His glasses were cracked like a spider’s web, and in the shifting shadows it looked as if he were raising hackles in disgust. “The House doesn’t profit from quick deaths,” said the jailor.

cw: ableism, human trafficking || “Involuntary Battle to the Death”

what's past is prologue by avocadodreamin (NR, 12k words, completed)

summary: In which the past may have made Matt Murdock the man he is today, but that doesn't mean Foggy has to be happy about it. (Or, five times Foggy hated Matt's childhood.)

cw: past child abuse and just in general stick.

Veneration by WerewolvesAreReal (T, 19k words, completed)

summary: Matt has a strange talent for attracting beautiful, intelligent women. Sometimes, though, he indulges in another type - older men, gruff men, men who insult him and tear him down. Foggy doesn't understand... until he meets Stick. 5+1

cw: ableism, sexual abuse, child abuse, domestic violence, age gap, attempted rape/non-con || uhm.

everything we hear, everything we see by Katbelle (T, 5k words, completed)

summary: Matt gets hit with an honest-to-God real truth serum. The consequences are much less fun than pop culture has led Foggy to believe. "I don't hate you, Matt." Matt blinks. "Oh." He blinks again, and his eyes go almost comically wide in surprise. "You're not lying anymore. Foggy, you're not lying, did you know that?"

cw: referenced rape and child abuse, non-con drug use, referenced underage sex (that was non consexual)

nothing he can't endure by Katbelle (T, 21k words, completed)

summary: Matt and Foggy deal with the aftermath of Matt's Veritaserum-induced word-vomit — or don't deal, as the case may be. Foggy launches a revenge plan against Stick with the help of his weird neighbour. Interesting family connections are made and discovered. In the meantime, Matt and Foggy deal with some of their other problems, or at least try to. (SEQUEL TO EVERYTHING WE HEAR, EVERYTHING WE SEE)

cw: referenced child abuse, rape/non-con, and underage sex (that was noncon)

Learn to Live With the Unimaginable by prettybirdy979 (T, 22k words, completed)

summary: He's just supposed to be helping Red and his friend for this one thing. Only here because their interests align and Red's not willing to place the lives of children over his morals. Course that all flies out the window when Red ends up getting himself - and his friend Elektra - turned into kids. And not just any kind of kids. Oh no. That would be too easy. Red and Elektra would have to be child soldiers, who somehow choose to trust Frank. Because of course nothing in Frank's life is simple anymore.

cw: child soldiers, childhood trauma, canon-typical violence, canonical child and character death

~

Maybe Redemption is Stories to Tell by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee (T, 25k words, completed)

summary: In which Matt Murdock copes with Asgardians, little sisters, and nosy superheroes. Also known as 'why you should never let Loki crash on your couch' Featuring an excess of Asgardians, more paper cranes, New York City, shenanigans, 80s movies, hot cocoa and feelings. Not necessarily in that order.

cw: – || okay, confession: i put this fic here due to a VERY specific scene that is in my brain 24/7. BUT! I recommend reading the entire series.

Living Life in the Shadow of a Goodbye by prettybirdy979 (NR, 1.8k words, completed)

summary: Just because they fought together, doesn't mean Luke knows that much about Matthew Murdock, recently 'resurrected' blind ninja (okay they rescued him from a bunch of nuns but seriously, the man should've died).

So when he, somehow, gets roped into helping Matt train Danny to learn to pay attention to his surroundings well... it might be a chance to get to know the guy. A bit.

Plus he gets to throw things at Danny. Always a plus.

cw: –

Through the Internet's Eyes by AsperJasper (T, 3k words, completed)

summary: It's the age of the internet, and Matt Murdock really thought nobody would ever connect any of his dots? Fat chance.

cw: – || just another social media fic.

Avengers v. Ableism by whitchry9 (T, 2k words, completed)

summary: The Avengers are surprisingly good allies, as Matt finds out on a number of occasions where other people are dicks.

cw: ableism

Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost (But Matt's Not Wandering; He's Just Lost) by prettybirdy979 (T, 2k words, completed)

summary: Matt has a super important meeting in Sta-no, Avenger Tower that he's running late for. But finding it in Tony Stark's futuristic nightmare of a non-ADA compliant building might be a problem. (Aka Matt Murdock vs Tony Stark's building and high tech security. Here's a hint- the security loses)

cw: –

Strike the Harp by prettybirdy979 (T, 20k words, completed)

summary: Matt's been invited to Foggy's for Christmas, his first ever magical one (his Dad didn't do big displays of magic and well, nuns and magic don't really mix). He's excited; it's going to be amazing. There's just one problem... Foggy may have implied to his family that Matt had no magic. Oops?

cw: – || two words. magik murdock. that’s all thank you

Small Comforts by kfantastique (T, 6k words, completed)

summary: Matt is finally allowing himself some physical comfort from his friends and Foggy is so relieved. The friends are confused that Daredevil apparently likes cuddling?? Foggy thinks it's hilarious and adorable but he been knew.

cw: some drinking and non-consensual drug use 

Don't Worry Bro, We Got This by QueenofLit (G, 1k words, completed)

summary: After having teamed up so often with the Avengers, Matt knew it was going to come out eventually. He just hadn't quite expected this kind of reaction. Okay, no, he had actually expected the disbelief and accusations. How the Avengers reacted to that, however, was... weird. People mad at him? Usual. People defending him? Definitely weird.

cw: ableism

Ifs, Ands, and Butts by whitchry9 (T, 7k words, completed)

summary: Wherein Steve recognizes Matt Murdock as Daredevil on the basis of The Booty. He just doesn't know how to bring up the topic.

cw: –

Words on a Page by AsperJasper (G, 1k words, completed)

summary: A few times over the years when Matt wrote things down and other people had to read it.

cw: –

Not Your Damsel by whitchry9 (G, 6k words, completed)

summary: Matt is getting really sick of being rescued by the Avengers. What's he's even more sick of is needing to be rescued.

cw: –

Almonds by Anonymous (M, 1.9k words, completed)

summary: The story inspires Karen to ask, “Alright, what’s one food you will never, ever eat again?” She thought it would be fun. And it is. It’s fun when she shares the story of the time she bit into a raspberry and heard something crunch, spitting out a mangled ladybug, and ever since then she refuses to eat raspberries or anything raspberry flavoured.

It’s fun when Foggy tells the story of when he was a teenager and he ate way too much kugel too quickly after breaking his Yom Kippur fast and threw up in the shul bathroom, and now eating kugel reminds him of that experience.

“Almonds,” says Matt, “Because of the time Stick poisoned me.” Like he’s discussing the weather. Like that’s a normal fucking thing to say. It’s not fun, then. Nothing has ever been less fun.

cw: past child abuse and sexual abuse, poisoning

deserve to take up space by whitchry9 (T, 2k words, completed)

summary: “You know. The autism. He's autistic, right?” Foggy has no clue what Karen is talking about. "Those are all… just Matt things." Unless they're not just Matt things.

cw: –

penny for your thoughts by deniigiq (NR, 7k words, completed)

summary: Foggy broke them up by vociferously admiring the progress Karen was making on her vomiting gourd. They all rallied around this artistic monument for a bit. May decided that everyone needed to drink hot cider and Matt waited, kindly and politely, until everyone was holding a drink and nervously giggling about the silliness that was The Conjuring. “You wanna hear something actually scary?” he prompted to sudden silence. (Matt opens up a bit to tell Team Red and friends a ghost story.)

cw: –

The Curiosity Game by ArtemisRayne (T, 14k words, completed)

summary: Clint Barton knows that boredom is dangerous; it tends to lead to him doing stupid things. Stupid things like making bets with Tony Stark about which one of them can find and befriend the Daredevil of Hell's Kitchen first. Yet another "Daredevil Meets the Avengers" fic.

cw: –

[aza-writes]

A Playboy Valentine’s Day

Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Matt both have to work on Valentine’s Day, what better way to celebrate than to surprise Matt with some special pictures

Warnings: mentions of smut/implied smut, few curse words

There is no description of the reader or the reader's body and no use of y/n

A/N: I didn’t want to put a specific job for the reader but it makes them work late shifts some nights. I kinda implied health care but any other job where you kinda have to be on call or work nights or something like that would make sense.

Gif: found on google

To be completely honest with myself; I feel sexy.

I feel so fucking sexy just sitting here with my legs crossed and hair all done cute, waiting for Matt to come home and do whatever in response to his gift today.

I know what most men say: “oh I’m just not Valentine’s person,” or “it’s just a made-up holiday” but that statement could not be further from the truth with Mr. Matthew Murdock.

Every year he would get dinner reservations two months in advance, order flowers, buy chocolates, and most importantly, he would leave work early and skip patrol so we could spend every second together.

This year was no different from the rest, until two weeks before. Not only did Nelson and Murdock take on a really big case that kept Matt at the office until late into the night, but my colleague called and said I needed to take her night shift due to a family emergency. I couldn't say no, she needed the help. But all of this meant that Matt and I couldn't spend Valentine's Day together.

Matt felt bad enough that we couldn't go out for Valentine's day, but when I told him that I couldn't come to Nelson and Murdock and bring him dinner, it made the bad worse. I was ready to pack up and cut my losses when a beautiful article showed up on Google one day.

"Playboy's Visually Impaired Addition from 1984 Might Shock You"

Playboy made a special edition magazine for the visually impaired and sold millions of copies. And it was the perfect way to make up for this year's sucky Valentines. If playboy can do it, so can I. 

The plan was overall simple. Take some pictures of myself in that red lingerie set Matt likes so much, and maybe a few completely nude, and poke holes around the outline of my body and more importantly, my curves.

The plan was set into motion last night while Matt was out on patrol. I got into his favorite lingerie set, a lace Daredevil red one, and set up a polaroid camera to use the self-timer. I take my time to do several poses with that set on, wanting to have plenty of options.

I stared at the photos for a long time, impressed with myself. But I couldn't sit there and stare at myself for too long, I had to finish these to get to the main event. I peeled the lingerie off, scared to rip the delicate lace details, and pose for the camera again. I try to keep my hands away from covering myself, wanting Matt to be able to feel every little detail he has memorized.

Now, I could've stopped there, but that's no fun. In true Playboy fashion, put a blank polaroid under the picture of me before I poked the holes into it, creating a blank picture that only Matt could read.

Well, Foggy could probably figure it out if he stared at it long enough but Matt wouldn't let him look at it for too long.

A sly smirk grew on my face imagining Matt feeling the picture in front of Foggy or even a client. I can see Matt get flustered, him loosening his tie while he clears his throat, trying to hide the fact he just got to feel up his girlfriend at work.

By the time Matt got back from patrol, I had already picked out my favorite pictures and poked holes defining my body. I avoided slipping the pictures into his briefcase the night before, wanting to avoid him "seeing" them before he goes to work. I want him to wait. I want him to feel the picture when he's working overtime. When it's late and he's only thinking about how he's not at home spending Valentine's day with me. When he has to reach in and grab whatever and then he feels it.

I couldn't leave him flustered in the middle of the day, what kind of person would I be? I decided to be kind and have him wait until he only has a few hours until he could come home and do whatever he wants in response. I waited until I brought him, Karen and Foggy dinner and carefully dropped them into his briefcase as I kissed him goodbye.

So here I am, in the same lingerie from the pictures, legs crossed, sitting on the arm of the couch, hoping Matt knew what I was trying to do.

I hear his keys before anything else. He's fumbling with them, trying to open the door as fast as possible. After every few jingles I hear him mutter a curse word under his breath, cursing himself for not being able to open the door.

He could probably hear my heart rate speed up, he could probably smell the perfume I was wearing, shit he could probably smell the pool that was growing in between my legs.

The door burst open before I could come up with any more little scenarios of what he was about to do to me.

"Welcome home Matty." My voice is sweet with a little cockiness mixed in it.

"You're in big trouble angel." His jacket is already off, and his tie is loose.

"You didn't like my present?" I get up and walk over to him, loosening his tie even more and pulling it over his head.

He swings his leg back, kicking the door shut. "I fucking loved it, that's the issue." I let out a little whimper, letting him know I heard him. I play with his hair and his hands find my waist, immediately letting his fingers drag up and down my sides. "So you decided to tease me, and on Valentine's Day of all days."

"What are you going to do about it," I start to unbutton his shirt, letting my fingers run over every little scar on the way down, "Matty?"

"I'll show you what I'm gonna do to you."

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Happy Valentine's Day Darlings❤️

Request : closed

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