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farfromstrange · 10 months ago

Note

Sub!matt idea. Sensory deprivation.

It can be common as a way of control, heighten the experiance or even to help calm and sooth to blindfold your partner and make them rely on other senses. But for Matt he already has this to the extreme which can be distracting able to hear three blocks away when all he wants to focus on is you his world in this moment.

After a day of honestly tiring input he just asks for you to take over he somtimes does that wanting someone else to control him for a while and he trusts you. And trusts you enough to fuck you with his hearing either gone or reduced only able to feel, smell and taste you which is more then enough. Esspecially when you focus on the touch lavishing his body with sensory your hands never off him roaming, soothing holding. Your lips almost always on him kissing, sucking biting anything to elicit the sweet groans of him. He keeps a hand on your chest or throat not controlling but to be able to sense your rumbling groans and soft sighs feel the uptick in your heart rate as he focuses on you and only you

I am SO sorry that this took so long! And when I finally started writing it, I got carried away, so it took me two whole days to finish. But I wanted it to be good enough after I left you hanging.

On that note, your smutty thoughts make me feral!! Not gonna lie, I sat in my lecture the other day and I couldn't stop thinking about this, which is why this turned out to be over 4k words. On this page, we celebrate sub!Matt and all that comes with him!

Thank you so much for your request, and I hope I could do it justice <3

Sensory Deprivation | Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Summary: The world tends to get a bit loud, but thankfully, you're there to help Matt focus.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), sub!Matt, use of "good boy", oral m!receiving, swallowing, use of earplugs (sensory deprivation), Matt's catholic guilt, slight blasphemy, (almost) coming untouched, mention & use of safe word/action

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: I'm so horny for this man, I can't function. Also, even though I did proofread this, I'm not sure if I missed any mistakes. My brain doesn't function as well as it used to. I'm sorry in advance.

More than anyone in this world, Matt believes he has to function, always, and without exceptions. He believes that he has to be useful, always doing something and never resting. His heightened senses make it impossible for him to turn his back on even the most minuscule cases of injustice, and he still beats himself up time and time again because he can’t be everywhere at once. He hears everything, smells everything, and feels the despair in the air, but in the end, he can’t take on the weight of the world all by himself.

Ever since he met you, you have become his reprieve. You’re the haven he returns home to when everything gets just a little too much. When his senses are flooded and his heart is heavy. He crawls to you when he’s wounded, and he would crawl to you if he only had a few more minutes to live. You’re the first person he thinks of when he wakes up, and the last person he thinks of when he goes to sleep at night, preferably holding you in his arms to make sure that you won’t slip away from him. In you, he has found someone who would never judge him for who he is. Someone who will always stand by his side proudly, and someone who will hold him when he’s at his weakest. And he has been hanging off the edge of his breaking point for quite some time, holding on for dear life.

You can tell Matt must have had an awful day from the second the key turns in the lock to your shared apartment. His feet drag over the wooden floorboards as he makes his way inside. You look up from your book.

Matt takes a deep breath, dropping his bag by the door. His shoulders are tense. He folds his cane, places it aside, and removes the red glasses you’ve grown to love—but you don’t nearly love them as much as his beautiful brown eyes, the green specks so distinctive, you could recognize them anywhere.

“Rough day?” you ask.

He opens the first button of his dress shirt with shaky fingers. “Yeah. I don’t wanna talk about it,” he says.

He hasn’t said hi to you like he usually would. Tonight seems to be one of those nights again. You know Matt well enough to pick up on the subtle clues in his behavior. He’s overwhelmed, possibly even anxious, and the weight he always carries on his shoulders is threatening to crush him. He’s walking a very thin tightrope, and he’s about to fall off.

You place your book on the coffee table and straighten up. He rounds the couch you’re sitting on, his unfocused eyes searching for you. Your heartbeat resonates in his ears. Your breathing is regular. You’re calm. You’re his rock. You won’t let him drown, no matter how strong the current is that is dragging him down.

Raising your eyebrows, you look up at him when he stops right in front of you. “No hello kiss?” you dare to ask. It’s a soft question, a little teasing, but he knows you mean well.

Matt shakes his head. As soon as he breathes you in, he’s done for. His brain cells fry on the electric chair of his mind. His heart starts beating up to his throat. You’re so close yet so far away. You smell incredible; you must have showered after work, and then you sat down with your favorite tea and read your favorite book while waiting for him so you could have dinner together. You’re so considerate, you even used his scentless soap so all he would be able to smell is your natural scent. You consume him. The city moves into the background, and the bricks are about to fall off his shoulders. He’s close to collapsing, falling on his knees and begging you to take control to just make him forget, but he isn’t quite there yet.

A car honks in the distance. The night is calling for him. His hand clenches into a fist at his side while the other rests flat against his thigh.

You slowly rise from your position. “Matthew,” you breathe his name like a siren. “What do you need?”

He sniffs. His fingers twitch. He has to go out, but he can’t. You envelop him in a bubble, and it makes him feel like he isn’t alone. Like he isn’t trapped. Like he can finally let go after holding on for so long.

“Talk to me,” you say.

His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “There was so much noise,” Matt whispers back. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t focus. I’m trying to stay in control, but I can’t focus, and—” He breaks off into a shaky sigh.

You chase his eyes; they’re glossed over. You reach out to tilt his chin in your direction. His eyes flutter closed. A stray tear slips down his cheek. It’s a tear stemming from months of exhaustion, physical pain, and emotional turmoil. He tried to push through, but he’s arrived at a point of no return. He’s breaking, and you’re the only one capable of catching him.

After another deep breath, Matt’s eyes open again. “You’re here,” his voice is still barely above a whisper, but the smile that starts to grow on his lips speaks the language of relief.

“I’m always here,” you answer.

“You keep me sane.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant.”

“I also know that, but it doesn’t matter. I know how hard it is for you. If you need to be distant for a while and then blow off some steam, I’m okay with it.”

He shudders when your fingers brush his cheek. The faint bruise underneath his eye has turned green. You trace the injury with gentle fingertips.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he says.

You smile back at him, knowing he can feel it, and you guide him toward your face. “You exist,” you tell him. “That’s enough for you to deserve me.”

His nose brushes against yours, but before his lips can meet yours, he stops. He inhales your scent. He feels your pulse under his fingers from where he’s wrapped them around your wrist. Your skin feels so soft against his. He’s no longer on fire. The world is no longer on fire. He can let go. He wants to know that it’s okay to let go, but the voice in his head is telling him to stop. The crossroads he finds himself at won’t let him leave in the direction he wants to go.

You can feel his inner turmoil. He’s holding back. He always does so. You’ve been together for what feels like forever, and he still doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants. What he needs. What he deserves. You told him to be primal when he needs to be. You told him to admit when you need to take over. He never does it out of his own free will. He waits until you force him into submission.

Tonight should be the night he finally tells you. Matt needs to learn that his needs matter just as much as yours. His catholicism can go to hell for all you care.

“I need—” He swallows. “I-I need t—”

“Go ahead,” you urge him.

“Ugh,” the sound resembles a broken growl. And then, the barriers finally break. “I need you to take over,” he begs. “I need you to help me breathe again, sweetheart. Please. I need you.”

God, he sounds so wrecked.

“You want me to take control?” you ask to clarify.

He nods. “Yes.”

“Okay. Good boy. I can do that.”

Matt’s lips part in a weak whimper in response to your praise. Calling him a ‘good boy’ always has the same welcome effect. You don’t even have to look down to know that his cock is slowly swelling in his slacks.

All the blood has rushed from his head and his beautiful rosy, stubbly cheeks to his groin. It doesn’t take much to turn him on, especially not in his current state—especially not if it’s you.

Hearing him admit that he needs you like this makes you feel a myriad of emotions. You want to take care of him, you want to love him, and you want to give him a moment of peace amongst the constant chaos, but there is also something so arousingly erotic about the way he begs for you to take control that makes your thighs clench.

Often enough, he is the one taking care of you. Matt is a giver, not a taker. He always puts you first, but on some days, he just can’t bear it anymore. And you couldn’t possibly ask him to take charge in bed in his current state. It would break him. He’s a vulnerable man, whether he likes to admit it or not, and he can be as fragile as an ancient vase. You have to handle him with care on those days, which is all you intend to do as you guide him to your shared bedroom.

You gently urge him to sit down on the bed. “Do you trust me?” you ask.

His unfocused eyes flick from one side to the other. “Always,” he breathes out.

“Good. Lie back for me. I’m going to take such good care of you, I promise.”

He would never doubt that.

You climb into his lap, and finally, you kiss him. His lips part slightly in a desperate groan. Before he can slide his tongue into your mouth though, you pull away. His grabby hands are already resting on your hips, wandering, and wandering, and…

“Nuh-uh,” you tell him, taking hold of his calloused fingers and placing them on your upper thighs. “Patience, baby.”

“Please,” Matt begs. You love it when he begs. He’s completely putty in your hands. You could tell him to get on his knees and pray, and he would, no matter how blasphemous it may be.

He’s holding onto you for dear life. You place his hand against the left side of your chest, allowing him to feel your heartbeat. He isn’t leaving you cold. He never does. Alone the sight of him is enough to make your thighs clench with need, but straddling him, you can’t get the friction you need.

You reach for the nightstand to your right, opening the drawer. You know exactly what he needs. “Turn your head for me,” you murmur.

Matt follows your instructions without questioning them. Finally finding what you were looking for, you retrieve the earplugs from the bedside drawer. This isn’t the first time you have used them on him, or he has used them on you. The specific brand renders you almost entirely deaf and renders Matt’s enhanced hearing almost to an entirely normal level.

You gently put the first plug into his left ear, then the other into his right. Before you push it in though, you ask, “Do you remember our safeword?”

He nods. “Red,” he says.

“Good boy. And when you can’t speak?”

“Tap your wrist three times.” His lips curl up into a weak smile. “Usually, I’m the one asking you that.”

“Not tonight, you aren’t. May I put this in now?” You tap the earplug.

He nods again. It’s all the confirmation you need before inserting it, reducing his hearing completely. He lets out a sigh of relief. He closes his eyes, and you know he’s trying not to cry.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” you ask, cradling his cheek. His stubble scratches your fingertips, but it’s a welcome pain.

He can still hear what you’re saying, feel the vibrations in your chest from where his hand is resting, and he smells you so much clearer now that he no longer has to listen to the city screaming at him in the background. Your arousal gets stuck to the tiny hairs in his nose, and he inhales sharply. Every nerve in his body is on fire.

Matt moans. His tongue darts out, tasting the air. For a moment, he forgets that you just asked for his consent. Everything is so much more intense, yet it isn’t nearly enough.

“Matthew,” you nudge him. “Talk to me.”

“Yes,” he whispers. At least he thinks he’s whispering.

You smile, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and then you lean down to kiss him again. This time, you let him push his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, feeling you, and consuming all of you. He wants every ounce of you ingrained in his mind forever.

His hands slide under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. His focus is on you entirely. You help him take the pesky piece of fabric off, followed by his own. He’s suddenly so hot.

Your teeth clash when you kiss. His cock is hard as a rock, pressing against his lower abdomen. You can feel it between your thighs. It must be painful for him.

His kisses trail from your mouth, down your neck. He tastes the salt on your skin. Your pulse jumps as he drags his tongue over the vein. It’s a primal need. He needs to mark you. He needs to taste you, all of you, and make you his for all the world to see. An animalistic growl escapes his lips. His teeth dig into your skin. He nibbles just enough to make you moan, your chest vibrating underneath his hand. Matt doesn’t even hesitate to grab a handful of your breast, tugging at your sensitive nipple until it’s stiff enough to rival his aching cock.

You throw your head back, your jaw slack, and he uses the newfound space to kiss down to your collarbone. You’re going to be purple and bruised tomorrow, but you don’t care.

With a demanding grip on his hair that pulls at his scalp and causes him to groan against your shoulder, you push his head toward your chest. He isn’t in control, you are, and you know how much he loves to please you.

Like a man starving, he sucks your nipple into his mouth. No, it’s not just your nipple. He takes as much as he can into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub only momentarily before he moves on to the rest of your silky skin.

You moan. You have to let him know that you’re enjoying yourself. He feels the sound deep within your chest from where his hand is resting, and the way your breast moves slightly when you moan. Matt only becomes more eager when he feels and smells what he’s doing to you.

The scent of you is addicting. Your arousal smells slightly sour, sometimes slightly metallic, but most of all, it is you. And when he tastes your essence on the tip of his tongue without even licking at your slick folds because you are simply that wet, it makes him feral with this insanely primal need to have you.

He wants to spread you out before him and taste you until you’re coming all over his face. Though today, he is too weak to keep you restrained to the mattress. Matt takes what he can get, what you are willing to give him, and he does so eagerly, like the good boy that he wants to be for you.

With the world silenced, he can focus on you. The way your heart is hammering against your ribcage, right against his palm. The way your chest heaves with every labored breath you take as he sucks and sucks at your breast until your nipple is beyond swollen. He can feel how smooth your skin is, smell the remnants of your body lotion that he sometimes steals so he can smell you everywhere he goes, and the slight sheen of sweat that has started to cover your body from head to toe. And he can smell your arousal so thick in the air, his cock jumps at the mere thought of sinking into your tight walls—of being completely consumed by you, body and soul. He doesn’t need to hear right now, all he needs to do is feel you.

You know about his desperate urge to please. You know that, even while you’re in charge, he wants nothing more than to make you feel good. Matt is anything but selfish. But his selflessness doesn’t have a place in this bedroom tonight.

As crazy as his mouth on your breasts is driving you into an oblivion of pure ecstasy, your walls clenching around nothing, you find it in yourself to pull him away.

With his eyes hooded, he looks so delicious. His cock is still straining against his lower abdomen in his underwear. When you pull him away, his expression reads offense. You can’t help but snicker.

“Did you think I’d let you make this about me?” you say just loud enough for the sound to reach through the earplugs.

He exhales. “I was praying,” he says.

Praying. He is too far gone to realize. There are sides to Matt Murdock you love more than others, and when he becomes blasphemous, it does things to you. This good catholic boy turns into mush when you just touch him, and then you are his God. You’re who he wants to worship, and he would pray to you, worship at the altar of your body, and drink your essence like holy water if it meant being all over you and inside of you. And you take your position very seriously.

He trusts you. That is not a small feat. He trusts you with his body and soul, and he trusts you with the most vulnerable parts of him, be it in bed or merely a hug after a bad day. You know what he needs, and he trusts you to take care of him. He wouldn’t let just anyone do what you do to him.

“What were you praying for?” you ask him.

“You,” he whispers.

“You can have me, but first… focus.”

He told you he was losing focus because the world was far too late, so with the noise reduced, you will help him focus on something other than the world out there.

“Feel that?” You kiss his mouth, and from there, you move down to his stubbly jaw. “Focus on that. Focus on me.”

Matt sucks in another sharp breath. While one hand still rests on your chest, the other comes to rest around your neck, feeling your pulse, feeling you, and his eyes flutter closed at the feeling of your luscious lips all over him.

Your kisses trail down his neck. You pay close attention to the sensitive spot behind his ear. He moans. His hips buck upward. He’s so painfully hard, his cock has already started leaking pre-cum into his boxers.

Each scar, each indentation on his skin that reminds you of all the good he does at the expense of his health, you kiss. You trace your tongue over the healed wounds, feeling the warmth of his skin seep into yours. He’s so sensitive.

His fingers involuntarily clench around your neck, but you don’t mind. He’s not choking you, he’s simply trying to hold on. You have established a safe word for a reason, after all. He can get carried away the same way you can get carried away.

You wouldn’t dare push him too far though. Not tonight. Not when he’s already this wrecked underneath you. You purposefully leave his nipples out of the equation and move further down his body. His abs tense under your tender touch. You can’t help but smile.

And him? Matt feels like he’s floating. He can feel every kiss against his heated skin, your fingertips tracing his scars after you’ve so sensually pressed your mouth against them, and he can feel your every breath as you move downward. Every kiss leaves a series of shivers in its wake. He’s hot, yet he’s cold. He needs more, but at the same time, you are already close to driving him into overstimulation.

His balls tighten. He can’t believe that the feeling of you is enough to make him want to explode. He knows that if you touch his cock now, he might as well come right then and there. It’s so much more intense like this when he doesn’t get distracted by the world outside. You are his world, and you are all he focuses on.

You move further down until you reach his boxers. His arm is no longer long enough to keep his hand around your neck, so he moves it into your hair. It’s a silent warning, you suppose because he is close. You only kissed him, and he’s already so close to coming undone. You don’t blame him. He’s been so tense lately.

You press a kiss to his hip bone before murmuring against his milky skin, “It’s okay.”

Matt whimpers. Your words make their way into his bloodstream.

You pull his boxers down. The cold air hits his aching tip and the way his back arches makes you almost feel bad. You spit into your hand, but you make sure your palm is warm enough before you reach for his girth.

The moment you touch him, he’s done for. “Sweetheart, I can’t–” he chokes out, but you shush him by placing your lips against his tip.

You lick at the salty pre-cum. It tastes like him. You can’t deny that you missed this while he was so distant from you. This is as much for you as it is for him, that is something you can’t deny either. You’re a little selfish tonight. Just a little.

His words of protest get swallowed by a needy moan, and his fist tightens in your hair. He’s not going to last long.

Matt is not one to come early. The guilt swallows him faster than you can swallow his cum, which is why he always holds himself back. Tonight though, you won’t let him torture himself for your pleasure. You hate it when he does it.

“Ugh!” the moan comes from the depths of his chest. “Fucking–God!”

You take him into your throat as far as you can without gagging, and what you can’t take, you wrap your hand around. He’s so thick, and he’s so incredibly big—you can feel the tears forming in your eyes. But God, he is so beautiful with his head thrown back, brown eyes squeezed shut, and that little drop of sweat dripping down his temple. It’s lewd, it’s erotic, and it makes your thighs clench.

All of his reservations vanish when you take him all in. Your throat is tight, but you’re enthusiastic. Your tongue traces the vein on the underside of his cock, moving back up to the overly sensitive head. Your hands cup his balls. Every time you go down on him, Matt swears he can feel heaven reaching its hand out to him.

He grips your hair a little tighter, his other hand tangling in the sheets. He’s so close. He twitches, painfully so. And when he comes, he instinctively pulls your head upward so you won’t choke. His hot cum spurts down your throat, and you have no choice but to swallow.

You surprise both yourself and him when you fight against his hand and force yourself down far enough so that your nose brushes the base of his cock, and you gag.

Your throat is so tight and hot that it drags his orgasm on for eternity. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears. His heart is racing out of his chest as if it has somewhere to be. The fire ripples through him, the inferno turning into a dangerous explosion that tears his nerves apart, putting them back together just to tear them apart again. He feels as though the skin is falling off his very fragile bones, and his muscles collapse in on themselves.

Matt can’t breathe. When he finally manages to untangle his hands from your hair, he lies there. The blood in his ears is obnoxious. He can’t hear. He can’t see. And suddenly, he can’t even feel anymore. He doesn’t exist. Reality slips away into a moment in time. Now, he’s dying. It feels like he is dying.

You pull off his cock, catching your breath. His cum trickles down the corner of your mouth. You wipe it away. Pressing a kiss to his hip bone, you look up through your lashes. At first, he looks blissed out, but his expression quickly changes.

He can’t talk. You take his hand. “Matt,” you coax him.

Not even his chest is lifting in time to accommodate his heavy breathing. His body is shaking as every ounce of stress falls off his shoulders, and his nerves fall victim to the inferno that is still wreaking havoc inside of him.

He taps your wrist three times.

“Okay,” you murmur. You quickly climb back up his body.

“Out,” he manages to tell you, weakly pointing to the earplugs.

“Okay, baby. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You pull the earplugs out as fast as you can. Matt’s arms wrap around you, searching for a lifeline, and he pulls you against him.

“Shhh.” You cradle his head in the crook of your neck.

You hold him like this for a while. You hold him against you tightly, gently, as if he is the most fragile thing you have ever held.

Eventually, his breathing returns to normal. His heart starts to slow down. His fingertips no longer dig into your back as desperately as they have before. He’s just content now.

You press your lips to the crown of his head. “You okay?” you dare to ask.

Matt takes a moment before he nods. He leans back slightly. “Thank you,” he breathes.

“For what?”

His lips curl into a tired yet satisfied smile. “For helping me focus.”

You smile back at him. “My pleasure,” you say, and you lean down to capture his lips in a loving kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs into the kiss.

“And I love you, Matthew Michael Murdock.”

“Oh, you love me that much, huh?”

You giggle, “Shut up!” before you pull him in for another kiss.

For now, he needs to catch his breath and pick up the pieces you shattered by giving him this orgasm, but you know that once he does, it is going to be a long night for you. And you won’t be able to find it in yourself to complain. Not that you want to, anyway.

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sturid · 8 months ago

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A small list of fictional men that should be girl dads

John Wick

Billy Butcher

Eddie Brock

Matt Murdock

That one baker guy from Kiki’s Delivery Service

Bi-Han

Cole Cassidy/Jesse Mcree

Obi-Wan Kenobi

both Aziraphel and Crowley

Newt Scamander

Izzy Hands

Peter Quill (Star-Lord)

literally any lotr character

feel free to add

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deviouz · 1 year ago

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Sub Matt is to live for

sub!matt is just the sweetest <3 always aiming to please and be good for his partner whenever he gets into that headspace

“you’re so good, matthew.”

you could see him preen at that, eyes fluttering shut as his lips and tongue worked overtime on your dripping cunt. he nuzzled himself between your thighs, feeling absolutely euphoric at the feeling of plush, velvet smooth skin enveloping him whole. he felt safe. you were his safe place.

“fuck, just like that, pretty boy,” your back arched as two corse hands pulled your thighs impossibly closer. god, there was nothing better than the feeling of the stubble lining his jaw rubbing at your skin and the vibrations occasionally wracking through your lower half as he moaned at your taste. matthew had always said there was nothing better than the taste of you, something so sweet and one of a kind, and absolutely all his.

as your fingers carded through his hair, tugging and pulling as the unruly, disheveled mess atop his pretty head, your moans began to grow higher in pitch and much more breathy. every touch from his lips and tongue sent your body into overdrive, and it was all too much yet not enough. it could never be enough, not when it was him.

as mindless praises fell through your lips, filling up an otherwise quiet room, you could feel him pawing at your thighs, blunt nails dragging across delicate skin. it was more than evident he was enjoying this as much as you were, perhaps even more so.

with a little more encouragement, you came. hard. shudders wracked your body and you gasped wantonly, jaw gone slack and eyes rolled back. even then, matthew didn’t let up. how could he when you sang praises so sweetly and emitted something akin to nectar honey?

“good boy.”

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frankcastlescumslut · 2 years ago

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Wicked Games

pairing: Matt Murdock x Female Reader

word count: 5.8k

synopsis: Matt needs to be put back together after a rough night of patrolling Hell’s Kitchen

warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI!! angst-ish!! BDSM-y!! edging, bondage, boot riding, oral (m/f receiving), fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint, humiliation/praise kink, dom!matt, sub!reader, use of “sir” / “good girl”/“daddy”, some aftercare <3

A/N: heyyyy :p sorry I’ve been MIA, inspiration has struck since watching season 3 and I needed this, so please enjoy my nasty thoughts (:

as always, I love reading your feedback and comments!! reblogs are more than welcome <3

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK !!!

Glaring red digits of the alarm clock burn through your sleep-clouded vision as the walls abruptly shake, causing you to wake. It’s well past midnight and you almost give yourself permission to be aggravated at the slamming hatch and weak foundation of Matt’s apartment, but you know better, and more importantly, you know your lover returned— alive.

It would only be a matter of minutes before he would slip next to your relaxed body, place a gentle kiss to the crook of your neck and apologize for waking you; the thought alone relaxes you into the sweet anticipation of your routine.

That’s what you expect, at least, and yet minutes pass as if they have no concept of time. The spot behind your back grows colder as the bed remains empty, and the sounds of heavy footsteps alongside clinking glass emphasize the silent room.

Just a rough night. Just a rough night. Just a rough night.

You attempt to ease your worries with the familiar, albeit honest, excuse to justify his path to penance by repeating the mantra until your eyelids grow heavy, practically baiting sleep. It would only be so long until he would find you in bed and entangle himself with your limbs, whispering promises of safety into your hairline and relaxing to the sound of your even breaths.

In, out. In, out. In-

The shatter of glass pulls your eyelids open and lifts you from the bed as if some puppeteer pulled a string straight from your sternum.

“Matt?” you call out, shuffling to your feet through remnants of sleep, afraid you would find him incapacitated, and the sliding door groans as you shove it open, masking the sound of your exhale.

Even through the drowsy daze, you watch neon bathe his tense frame as he expertly paces throughout the apartment. He must've known you would wake from his brooding, yet he secretly wished you would turn a blind eye to his frustrations in hopes of maintaining some semblance of dignity.

“Matthew?” you try again, a little louder this time, to emphasize your presence.

He knew you were there, of course- the thump of your heart practically reverberated throughout his chest and echoed in his ears.

“Is there anything I can-“

“Just go.” His voice echoes throughout the apartment, the gruff tone stunning you momentarily. He stops to exhale, running a calloused hand over his down turned lips in a tidal wave of emotions- mostly regret and embarrassment at his short reaction to your concern. “Just go back to sleep, it’s fine.”

“Clearly it’s not fine,” you shoot back, defensiveness quickly forming in your chest. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Sleep quickly dissipates from your body as glimmering shards of glass catch your eye. You attempt to draw closer to inspect his current state, wanting to ensure he wasn’t critically injured, only to feel the familiar pang of rejection as he moves away from your outstretched hand.

“I’m fine. You should sleep.” He turns further from you, secretly grateful that his lack of vision shields him from the greatest shame, knowing you wear heartbreak on your face.

“Bullshit,” you spit, your feet landing thunderously against the floor.

“Go to bed, please,” he groans, only stopping with a frown as your fingers wrap around his bicep, finally pulling him to face you.

“You don’t get to just walk in here, throw a fucking tantrum, and pretend like everything is fine! You don’t get to push me away like this!”

Matt tears from your gentle grasp, unwilling to admit that your argument holds a significant amount of weight. In his shame and impulsiveness, he mimics a young Catholic boy, unable to cope with his personal shortcomings and inability to communicate his frustrations.

The sole of his boot collides with an innocent leather couch, causing it to slide a few inches, and the soft suction of your cupped palm greeting your mouth cuts through the deep groan of wood against wood, practically rupturing his eardrums.

“I almost lost you tonight!” His footsteps are leaden, leaving holes in the floorboards as he confesses.

You wait silently, watching Matt pace the small space in search of composure.

“What are you talking about?” Your voice gets lodged in your throat, but he hears you nonetheless.

“They knew your name.”

“Who?” The question leaves your lips carefully, attempting to ignore his sudden outburst.

“It doesn’t matter now.” His voice is hardly audible and hidden under what sounds like regret, maybe even disappointment.

Even in the dark, his pain radiates from his face.

“Did you…“

You want to ask if he had crossed his deeply etched line of morality, but refrain, ultimately to preserve your own feelings— unwilling to face whether you were selfishly worth dying over or not.

“No, I didn’t kill him.” He answers the lingering question with a huff of amusement and tinge of detest, lowering himself carefully onto the coffee table.

“Oh.”

The buzz of fluorescent billboards emphasizes the silence that hangs heavy in the air, seemingly pushing you further from him even though you remain planted firmly.

Unbeknownst to you, Matt’s world remains chaotic and clamored as he tunes his senses to the way your silence draws out the hurt.

“I almost lost control,” he clears his throat before his head hangs from his neck like it’s a rusted hinge. “I almost lost control and I almost killed a man.”

His confession leads you to look at him, to see him, for the first time that night.

You expect to find a broken man, and you do- the gash on his forehead, the reddened and bruised cheeks, the split in his upper lip, all evident even feet away- but you were unprepared to find an orphaned boy curled in on himself, fighting two invisible gods that threatened to tear him in half.

The thought of your worthiness being dependent upon inflicted violence suddenly chokes you, and you gravitate towards him effortlessly.

“Listen to me,” your gentle voice beckons him, but he ignores the instinct.

“I was so close. He knew your name, and I swear I could’ve- I should have-“ his lip quivers in admission, consequently dragging you to your knees in front of his folding stature.

“But you didn’t, because you are a good man.” His cheeks warm the palms of your hands as you interrupt him, the floorboards groaning as you lean forward. “You hear me? You are a good man, Matthew Murdock.”

He feels the sincerity of your words and intent gaze as you study his face, forcing him to soften under your tender inspection. His huff of disbelief echoes between your bodies, and you allow it to settle, filling the gap with nervous anticipation.

“You don’t have to-“

“Stop it.” You interrupt, already anticipating his onslaught of self deprecation.

“You could have been killed-“

“Well I wasn’t so-“

“Stand up, you’ll bruise your knees.”

The instructions catch you off guard before you realize your attempts to stealthily shift your weight did not fall on deaf ears.

“I’m fine. But really, though-“

“Stand up.”

The quick rebuttal you form catches in the back of your throat, and an invisible, familiar feeling begins to blossom in the depths of your chest as you note his stern undertone, cheeks warming consequently.

You almost feel guilty for your instinctive, physical reaction to his authority, given the nature of the current predicament, but you catch the way he clears his throat to mask the implications of his allusive tone, and swallow your own embedded shame in return.

Get it together.

The stale apartment air floods your nostrils as you brace your palms on Matt’s clothed thighs. He mimics you, holding his breath at the unexpected touch, only to relax as you use him as leverage to follow his directions.

Your knees thank you while you straighten gingerly, and you stare at your feet, careful to avoid his roaming eyes. You don’t need to watch him to know he’s attuning himself to your current state. There’s a certain intensity, an unspoken eagerness to the busy silence; his vacant gaze follows the way your body anxiously sways in front of him, and you hold your breath in wanton anticipation.

Get it together.

Time passes on its own accord, and while you tower over Matt, you somehow feel small and vulnerable under his assessment. It was almost intrusive at times, knowing that he was currently calculating your pulse, identifying which parts of your body were warmer, how shallow your breaths became if he gripped at his own knee to compose himself…

Get it together.

You attempt to distract yourself from his assessment and trail your gaze towards his face.

He looks untouchable yet so human, so broken- the way the neon emphasizes the deep shades of purple and red blossoming against his cheeks, the sunken troughs beneath his eyes, the rusted stain against his top lip- and you act without thought.

“Let me help you.” Your request leaves your lips without permission, forcing you to confront the growing desire that branches throughout different corners of your body.

He’s like a magnet, or perhaps a puppeteer, and you inch closer towards him like you’ve done so many times before.

To your surprise, he doesn’t recede, and you carefully thread your fingers through the hair against the nape of his neck. He closes the space, leaning a heavy head against you, and wraps exhausted arms around your frame while relishing in your presence.

In the rare moments that Matt surrenders to himself, you always remember to silently thank whatever higher power for the intimate moments, and you do— so much so that he notices the semi-hypnotic trance you find yourself in while holding him close to you.

“Let me help you feel better, please,” you whisper, afraid if you voiced your desires any louder that the bubble would burst around the sacred embrace.

He lifts his head at your request, noting the desperation in your voice, before weighing the costs of his own longing- your flushed cheeks and strong pulse helping him in solidifying his decision to trail his hands down your back.

You nearly whine at the perceived separation, but quickly silence yourself as he skillfully lifts your hoodie over your head before dropping it to the floor.

He moves swiftly, lifting himself from the table with a fervor, and you find yourself pulled into his chest. Your lips crash together, teeth practically clashing, and he swallows his name while hungrily pulling your face towards his, desperate for any part of you.

You almost feel guilty at the way you’re already falling apart, but your insecurities are overshadowed by the way Matt nips at your bottom lip and grabs at any exposed skin as if you would disappear if he let go of you.

In your own earnestness, your hands act independently, gripping the soft strands of his hair and tugging ever so slightly, pulling a breathy moan from him as your lips part from each other.

“C’mere,” he growls, sliding his hands towards the crook of your knees to hoist you onto his torso.

You giggle at his ardor while wrapping your legs around his frame, not once questioning his intentions. His lips quickly attach to the column of your neck before drawing a moan out of you as he sucks the skin lightly, teasing the tender flesh with teeth.

“Baby, please,” your unfinished request falls on expectant ears, and he takes the initiative to guide you both to the room, though not without difficulty as you adjust against him.

The cool metal door greets your back abruptly, nearly knocking the wind out of you as Matt stumbles, too distracted by the growing warmth between your thighs and fluttering heartbeat.

“Matthew!”

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” you laugh against his cheek before leaving a trail of kisses alongside of his scruffy jaw, ending below his ear. “Just get me to the bed in one piece.”

The mattress sinks beneath your weight and you find yourself engulfed as Matt hovers over your body. He kisses the already sensitive spot on your neck while his hands roam your soft skin, chuckling as he pulls sweet noises from you.

“Baby…” you whine, writhing and shoving your hips into him in search of attention.

“What’s the matter sweetheart?” He mumbles into your neck while his fingertips graze over your hardened nipples, causing you to gasp.

Lines form against your forehead as you study his reaction, experimentally dragging your palm against the evident bulge in his pants. He anticipates your forwardness, quickly wrapping a bruised hand around your wrist and pinning it above your head, before tracing the column of your neck and thrumming pulse with his tongue.

“Did you mean it?” He growls against you, his spare hand snaking towards your aching core. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to help me?”

Your legs are manually parted as he shoves a hand between your thighs, cupping your clothed cunt, and you can’t help but peel your back off the mattress at the subtle friction, lust clouding your senses completely.

“Answer me,” he taps against your core harshly, prompting your attention. “Did you mean it, angel? Be honest, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“Y-yes I meant it!” Tap. “I mean it!” Tap.

“Good girl.”

In your own selfishness, you expect him to indulge himself in your dripping offering, and to your astonishment and disappointment, he instead places a featherlight kiss beneath your jaw before pulling away from you.

His changed demeanor leaves you breathless while gentle, panting breaths float around your bodies as you attempt to collect yourself. He studies you— listening and acclimating to your exact needs and responses. His intensity is felt as it aimlessly wanders the features of your flushed face.

During the small windows of inspection, you yourself have become accustomed to Matt’s reactions, easily identifying his yearning by the way his chest falls in short succession to the way his lips part in nervous expectancy before finally melting into you.

This kiss is different. The way he touches you is soft and intentional, tracing the outline of your jaw and the curvature of your ear, sealing his adoration with a stamp against your forehead.

“You trust me, right?” He whispers against your lips.

“Of course I do.”

Although you mask your confusion, your heart betrays you, fluttering in your chest.

He listens to the rhythmic thudding as if it were communicating with him, practically pleading that he stop his routine of self denial and give in to his vices.

You notice his quick smirk before processing the way his knuckles graze against the mounds of your breast and trace the outline of your body.

“And you know I love you, right?”

“Yes.” You shiver against the delicate touch.

“Good…” he runs calloused fingertips against your thighs before returning his attention to your lips. “Kneel on the ground and hold out your wrists.”

The demand barely registers through your hazy awareness, and you’re only cognizant of Matt’s missing warmth from the way your limbs prickle.

He is hypnotic, moving effortlessly around the room in pursuit of something you’re unsure and uncaring about. You nearly reach out, practically desperate to touch any part of him, and yet you’re only able to concentrate on the way the flashing lights emphasize the contours of his muscles hidden beneath his fitted black shirt.

“Do I need to remind you of where you’re supposed to be?”

You gasp unintentionally at the alluring timbre mere inches from your ear- too preoccupied with the glimpse of maroon swinging from his closed fist, an indicator of your immediate future.

“No,” you exhale, silently cursing yourself at your incompetence while shuffling around his body, bracing yourself against the hardwood floor. “I’m sorry.”

Before he could correct you, you hold out your wrists to him in submission.

It feels odd at first— surrendering to his fervor and your own hunger, knowing his cognition has been blanketed with the desires of the flesh while you dangle in front of him on your knees.

You can’t help but wonder whether you are the one who washes his wounds or are nothing more than the inflictor, simply offering tangible and fleeting relief to his moralistic suffering.

“Matthew,”

“I’m okay,” he precedes your concern, kneeling in front of you. “I just… need to feel in control for a little bit. Can you help me do that?”

It feels as if the roles had switched and you could audibly hear his nervous heartbeats and feel the warmth radiating from his neck and cheeks.

You nod, knowing he can sense your agreement.

“But if you say stop,”

“We stop.” You finish his sentence.

“Exactly.” He exhales with a mirrored smile, scanning your face earnestly before landing his vacant gaze just beyond your left ear.

The maroon rope feels heavy in his hand and he stiffens, the end of it hardly brushing against your bare thigh as if to make a subtle introduction.

He catches the way you hold your breath in the chasm of your throat at the gentle intrusion before guiding your exposed wrists to his lips, sighing into the way your pulse reacts to his touch.

“I love you,” his declaration fans against your delicate skin before he lifts himself from his kneeling posture, now completely towering over your submissive form.

The room is filled with an electric hum; whether it was the blinding billboards or the charged current circulating both your bodies, you were unsure, but you knew Matt could feel it as well.

He remains silent, drawing out the suspense as he exaggerates the fluid motions by pulling the rope to accentuate his wingspan before cuffing your wrists, leaving you wide-eyed and expectant.

Meticulous patterns form around your skin as the rope burns deliciously with each loop, and although it doesn’t hurt, you wince, drawing a breath between your teeth.

Matt cranes his neck towards your reaction, his jaw growing taut as he listens for your heartbeat and warmth blooming across your cheeks, chest, and between your thighs.

“Feel okay?” he asks, roughly tugging the tail ends of the rope.

“Mhm.”

“What was that?” You jerk forward unexpectedly, whining as your knees crush into the floor while he pulls the ends of the rope together with force, cinching the cuffs to your wrists. “I asked you a question, sweetheart. Use your words.”

“Yes sir, it feels good.” The blush creeps towards your ears in embarrassment, emphasized by the way Matt silently knots the loose ends.

You study his work, admiring the way the rope hugs your skin and applies the perfect amount of pressure to your veins while securing you to submission before he loops a finger through the middle knot and tugs, inspecting his own handiwork.

It’s evident that you are timid- nearly naked and restrained, Matt circles you, noting the way he has reduced you to nothing but wanton expectation.

You feel like a caged bird; displayed for the masses while others indulge in your beauty— the excitement and hope of being rewarded overpowering the nagging urge to open and offer yourself up for the taking.

The lack of attention is maddening, and you make no attempts to hide it, completely aware that Matt is relishing in your impatience.

He knows it’s a cruel game, but your fluttering heart and shaky breaths only add onto his enjoyment as he controls your reactions, finding it particularly amusing to watch you clench your thighs in search of any kind of relief.

And while it is a cruel game, he also prides himself on being fair and just, leading him to slide a thick boot between your parted thighs as he centers himself in front of you.

“Fuck,” you moan at the unexpected contact.

He extends a hand to cradle your face and you watch him with pathetic puppy dog eyes.

“What’s wrong angel? Does it feel good?” His tone teases you.

“Yes sir,” your voice is embarrassingly small and you shrink under the way his eyes desperately scan your face.

“I know it does. You’re gonna help me and I’m gonna help you, okay? Can you do that for me?”

You look divine— wrists bound in maroon and held close to your chest as if you were praying to him, nearly drooling as he fiddles with the buttons of his pants.

As much as you crave to be touched and devoured, your need to be used- to be the one that relieves him of his iniquities- takes precedent, and you impatiently stretch your arms to help him undress.

“Come on, angel. You know better,” he gently scolds, attempting to disguise his amusement. “Are you really that desperate?”

You audibly whimper as he spits into his palm before stroking his length in front of you, and he knows that you don’t have to verbally answer him- he can practically taste your dripping cunt as you grind against his boot.

But you do answer, though, and open your mouth to offer your throat to him with complete satisfaction as he smirks.

“So fuckin’ eager, huh?” He taps the tip of his cock against your tongue. “Go on then, take it.”

Without a second thought, you wrap your lips around his length, quickly pulling a moan from the depths of his chest. You do your best to take as much of him as you can without using your hands, skillfully running your tongue against the shaft before hollowing your throat to fit him.

He hisses in pleasure and you hum around his heavy cock as he bucks his hips automatically, quickening the pace in selfish pursuit.

“There you go,” he thumbs away the stray tear that follows the contours of your cheek. “You’re doing so good for me.”

The praise baits you and you take it with ease, bobbing your head in rhythm with his thrusts. You’re too engulfed by his affirming moans to care about the drool that coats your swollen lips, consequently dripping onto your bare chest.

“Fuck,” he grits, grabbing your cheeks to pull you off of him before he finishes embarrassingly fast and collides his lips with yours. “Make yourself feel good, sweetheart. You deserve it after waiting so patiently.”

You want to be ashamed. You want to be absolutely humiliated at the speed in which you follow his orders, but the way your hips move automatically, dragging your clothed core across his filthy boot and the expletives that fall from your lips suggest otherwise.

“Feels so good,” you whimper, dropping your head against his knee.

“I know, angel. You’re doing so good for me.”

The heels of your palms support your weight as you pick up your pace, chasing your pleasure while your pulse thrums against the maroon rope in tandem.

“Look at you,” he coos, wrapping his fingers through your hair to pull your face towards him. “Such a dirty girl riding my boot like that.”

“Such a dirty girl,” you repeat, already feeling your judgment become clouded with the oncoming ecstasy.

Matt laughs in disbelief, almost impressed at how quickly you have unraveled beneath him. He can tell by the way your hips stutter and fingernails scrape against the floorboards that you are encroaching upon your first orgasm, and he almost gives it to you— almost.

“C’mon now, you know better than that…” he tsks, noting your confusion as you freeze. “You should know that I’m the only one who gets to make you cum, angel.”

You should have known better than to doubt Matt’s leniency; he was very black and white, rare to show unwarranted mercy towards those who are undeserving, and you have yet to convince him that you are worthy of a climactic release.

With leaden hips, you stop your movements, hoping to be rewarded for your compliance.

“Please, Matt…”

“What’s the matter?” He teases, beckoning for you to stand with outstretched arms.

You meet him, your knees groaning as you struggle to gain your balance, only to be held upright by a large hand cupping your warm cunt.

“Jesus!” Your moans fill the air as you throw your head back, desperately grabbing onto his shirt through the confines of your roped cage.

“Wrong guy, sweetheart,” he smirks before placing a kiss to your pulse, gently swirling his fingertips against your drenched panties while leading you to the bed.

The mattress dips beneath your weight as you plop down, only ceasing to part from Matt’s lips while he hastily attempts to undress.

You drink him in, enchanted by the way his muscles work in tandem with his own fervor, the fluorescent lights washing over his contours and scars as if to pay homage to his own selflessness.

Without thinking, you reach out for him, fingertips barely grazing the elastic waistband of his boxers.

“Did I say you could touch me?”

“No, but,” you hardly expect his reaction, let alone the way he slides his hands beneath your knees, forcing your body towards him

“Did I say that you could touch me?” He enunciates his words carefully.”

“No sir.”

“No sir,” he repeats. “That’s right, do I need to remind you of your place?”

Sliding your legs further apart, you open yourself up to him like some offering on a golden plate; his threat is felt between your thighs, and you make no efforts to hide the effect of his words.

“No sir,” you smirk at the way he clenches his jaw as your scent captures his attention.

“I don’t think I agree with you, angel.”

The cool air hitting your drenched core sends a shiver through your body as Matt tears your underwear from your hips in an attempt to reinstate his authority. You stifle a laugh at his urgency, knowing your efforts for attention had not been in vain, and yet the thrill of punishment excites you.

Without fail, you find yourself being spread open to a hungry and awaiting audience.

A warm breath fans against your inner thighs and you shudder at the intimate intrusion. His lips savor the warmth of your skin, his fingers gripping onto your soft flesh like you’re threatening to melt away.

“Matthew,” you moan as he inches closer to your pussy, but never close enough.

“Hm?” he murmurs into your skin, and you tremble as he adorns your body, leaving a trail of wet kisses in his exploration.

“Your mouth,” you gasp as he experimentally brushes the pad of his thumb against your clit, never peeling his lips off of you.

“What about it?”

“I want it!” Your hips buck towards him on their own accord, chasing any kind of attention.

“You want it?” He draws a finger between your folds, collecting your sweet offering before bringing it to his tongue. “Tell me where you want my mouth.”

“On my- God! On my pussy! Please!”

“You’re so cute when you beg.”

He indulges himself per your request, his warm breath fanning across your core before he satisfies his thirst, drinking you in with a flat tongue and open mouth moan.

You melt against him effortlessly as his mouth satisfies your prolonged pleasure, trying to touch him, to bring him impossibly closer while he teases your clit, but your fingers hardly graze the tufts of hair between your knotted restraints.

He ignores your selfish attempts, too preoccupied by your taste, his senses completely engulfed by all that is you.

It’s humiliating at how quickly your orgasm builds. Your body feels like it’s on fire with each languid stroke of his tongue against your sensitive clit, his fingers marking you with ownership as he anchors himself to your thighs, moaning into your cunt like a starved man.

“Matthew, I’m so close.”

He actually whimpers, scrunching his eyes while grinding his hips into the mattress for some release, knowing that he is the one responsible for your ecstasy.

“Cum for me, princess,” he mumbles into you before expertly sliding a finger into your pussy, hooking you to him as he pulls your orgasm out of you, selfishly giving over some control for his own insatiable desires.

You obey perfectly, unraveling against Matt’s tongue as he works you, your vision blurring and wrists burning from the tension against the maroon ropes.

“Stop!” You croak out, twitching from overstimulation.

“What’s the matter, honey? Is everything okay?” He pulls away from you with glistening, downturned lips.

“Out,” you hold out your wrists. “I need out. Please.”

Matt is quick to respond and unbinds you as gently as possible, taking extra care to caress the patterned indentations along your delicate skin.

“You did so good for me,” your pulse thumps against his wet lips as he soothes you, gently squeezing the lengths of your arms to relax the muscles.

Free from the confines of your mental and maroon cage, you yield to the crumbling preservation and melt into a familiar safety of Matt’s gentle affection.

“Need you,” you whisper, freely stretching your hands towards Matt’s face, drawing him into you for the first time. And although he nearly crushes you, the added weight is comforting, filling a part of you that had been gnashing and snarling for attention.

Your lips fit together, colliding with an urgency and avidity, and you swallow each other’s affinity. You study his body with your touch starved fingertips, caressing his skin and lingering over the raised markings and scars before pressing into them, collecting his moan into your mouth.

“I need you,” you raise your hips towards his length that rests between your thighs. “Please.”

Without hesitation, he pulls himself from the confines of his boxers, completely disregarding his calculated systems of control and authority, and glides his leaking tip over your drenched heat.

“Fuck,” he trembles as he positions himself over you, and you take the opportunity to mark his neck with hungry kisses.

Your attempts are futile; he intertwined his fingers with yours before slowly pressing his cock into you, your body welcoming him with ease.

“God, you’re so tight, angel.”

“You’re so fucking big.”

He listens to your body— the way your muscles contract as he rubs circles around your swollen clit, the way your cunt stretches and burns to fit him, and the way you welcome it with your eyes rolling back as he grinds his hips into your own, expertly hitting your g spot.

“Please don’t stop!” You beg, your voice bouncing off of the rafters, the echoes only encouraging him to continue his efforts. “It feels so good, baby.”

“I know it does. You’re doing such a good job taking my cock, sweetheart. Such a good job.”

He wishes he could watch the way he slides into you, watching the way your face contorts in pleasure as you take him, but he is just as satisfied hearing the lewd sounds of your cunt greedily swallowing him. He knows by the way your fingernails dig into the soft flesh of his shoulders that you are reaching your climax, practically begging him to continue.

“Matt,” you whine, desperately holding onto him like you would float away if you let go. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“What was that?” He asks, knowing fully well what you confessed.

“You’re gonna-“ you falter as you watch him suck on his fingers before circling your abused clit.

“Tell me, angel.”

“You’re gonna make me cum, daddy.”

He groans, not anticipating that your own release would trigger his.

“That’s right, sweet girl. I’m the only one that makes this pussy cum, isn’t that right?”

“Yes yes yes!” You nod while simultaneously chanting your agreement, trying your best to hold onto the building climax. “Cum in me, please! Please, I’m begging!”

“God you’re such a dirty slut, begging for daddy’s cum, huh?”

“Matthew!”

It crashes over you unexpectedly; your chest pulls towards the heavens and you scratch your name into his back as your orgasm floods your system, luring Matt to follow suit.

“Such a good girl for me, just taking my cock like that— fuck— gonna fill that pretty pussy!” His hips stutter as your greedy cunt clenches around him and he spills into you, giving you all that he can.

“There you go sweetheart, such a good girl for me,” he falls into you, melts into you, savoring the scent of every exposed inch of skin that you offer up- his breath fanning against the crook of your neck as he pumps his hips a final time for good measure before pulling out of you reluctantly.

Falling against the silk sheets, you entangle your limbs with his, connected by exhaustion and delirious smiles, reveling in the closeness and simplicity of each other’s presence.

Matt reaches out to you, cupping your face with a warm palm that invites you to nuzzle closer.

“Hi.”

You aren’t sure why you’re whispering— maybe to preserve the illusion of dignity or the sanctity, but it blankets the both of you with a tenderness that reflects the soft smiles mirrored between you.

“Hi, beautiful.”

A warmth creeps up your neck and blossoms to your cheeks, so evident that you are ablaze in his limited field of vision.

“Shut up,” you deflect, shying away from his tenderness by burrowing into the crook of your arm. You’re used to the physical affections and the acts of service, making adjustments to his definition of quality time, and yet his words never fail to make you come apart.

“Never.” You’re pulled into him against your own will but never fight back, enjoying the soft kisses that he plants against your bare shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you sneak your hand to wrap your fingers around his, bringing his knuckles to your lips to seal your declaration.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

He hesitates, filtering through which words to choose.

“For trusting me— for choosing me. Thank you.”

You turn to face him, throwing a blanket over your tangled limbs and settling in the closeness. He feels your stare studying the features of his face, landing on the creases of his bashful smile.

“I’ll always choose you, Matthew.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, and the annoying buzz of the alarm clock meddling with the sound of a busy city just outside the windows dares to pull his attention away from you. He waits, though, listening to the succession of your breaths evening out, your muscles relaxing as you nestle into his radiant warmth, and a gentle hum slip through your lips to indicate the sleep that washes over you.

“I’ll always choose you, too.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #dom!matt murdock x sub!fem reader #matt murdock smut #dom!matt murdock #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil fanfic #daredevil x female reader #daredevil smut #daredevil oneshot #matt murdock one shot

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crumbledcastle28 · 2 years ago

Text

Matt Murdock: Forget

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader (she/her)

Summary: An endless cycle of reviewing is interrupted by some much needed negligence.

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, law student Matt, law student reader, probably inaccurate law school studying, p in v sex, oral (female receiving), finger licking, with a dash of dom!reader.

A/N: Something about Matt in She-Hulk really messed with my head. Here is my first marvel fic (I can’t believe that) for my fellow INFJ and love of my life. Thank you all for your patience in my lack of updates. I hope this makes up for it.

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be much appreciated <3

(I completely forget where I got this gif. Please let me know if it’s yours).

Matt’s nails scratching against the scruff of his face was not helping your focus.

Neither were the rays of the city lights against his darting dark eyes.

He leaned forward on his leather couch, squeaking the fabric against his hard body, and exhaled.

“Okay,” he breathed, staring down at his case-covered coffee table. The clock behind him shined red an ungodly hour of the night as he dragged his long, slender fingers over the braille, and exhaled again.

“We know the defendant’s breach of duty, and we know the plaintiff’s sufferance of an injury.”

You “mhmed” him along as he spoke, grateful he could not see your eyes glued to his hands gliding down the page…

…or so you thought.

“We just don’t have proof that the defendant’s breach actually caused the injury defined through proximate cause.”

You swallowed with another “mhm” and started rubbing your eyes. “Right,” you said after a moment, confirming that you heard him fully.

He sighed again and rubbed at his scruff. He was really really good at that.

“Aka the most important fucking element for a negligence case.”

He stood up at that and placed his hands on his hips. His body somehow broadened even more when he did this, and the white sleeves of his dress shirt from a day of mock court and a night of play pushed further up his forearms.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

You had a final tomorrow morning—actually this morning—and all you could think about was how much you enjoyed seeing your “study buddy” angry.

You rubbed your fingertips against your temples, trying to force yourself to fucking focus, but nothing would work. You knew nothing would work, because on any other night at this hour, the only thing on your mind would be how pretty Matt would look between your legs. Your brain had built those thoughts into your head so consistently that it became a habit. That, combined with being sleep deprived and having the man of the hour standing right in front of you, you were fucked.

Beyond fucked.

And the worst part was, you didn’t even care.

You had met Matt as an L1, first day of Civil Procedure, and something about the way his hair sat, the way his voice sounded, the way he laughed at himself, and the way he moved drew you to him like a magnet.

You had yet to leave that magnetic force, even when your trusted buffer Foggy wasn’t around. After over a year of slowly knowing Matthew Murdock, you had never loved anything else more.

Not that he knew any of that, of course.

The slap of a legal pad hitting the floor broke you from your train of thought, and Matt sat down with a huff.

You took a deep breath, centering yourself. “Why don’t we take a break?”

Matt chuckled. “A break? This entire night has been a break, Y/N.”

He was right. The two of you had gone out, much later than anticipated, and procrastinated studying to the last possible second.

And if it wasn’t for the way he said your name just then, you might have agreed.

“We’ve already been at this for two hours, Matthew,” you snapped back. “We are obviously exhausted, and like you said, we know 99% of the elements on this case. We can wake up early tomorrow, figure that out, and then take the exam afterwards. It will be fresh in our minds.”

You wanted to add and delightfully avoid staring at your stupid fucking eyes for the entirety of the night instead of the task at hand, but decided against it.

“You of all people know that that’s not how it works,” Matt replied. “Sleep is the time when the brain sorts everything together, not an hour before an exam. We need to do this tonight.”

You scoffed. “Speak for yourself. I’m going home.”

That was what made him pause, and the dimples on his cheeks disípate.

“What? You’re leaving?”

“If you’re going to sit here and panic and stress me out then yes, I’m leaving. I’m exhausted, and cramming for this won’t help.”

You stood from your seat, but Matt stood with you. Meeting you at your level, just as he always had.

“We’re in this together Y/N. You’ve said that a million fucking times.”

You breathed through your nose, continuously frustrated at his pattern of remembering seemingly everything you had ever said. “I just need to forget about this for a while, Matt. That’s all.”

With that, he made his way around the coffee table, and creased his eyebrows together fiercely. He moved closer and closer to you as he spoke.

“You think I don’t wish I could forget about this too,” he spat. “Do you honestly think I don’t want to throw all this shit out the window and spend a night with you, enjoying myself for once in my fucking life, and just forget? You think I don’t want that?”

You were frozen solid. It was unlike Matthew’s personality to raise his voice, especially around you.

He breathed rapidly, trying to regain composure.

“My whole life I’ve done what’s good, what’s right. Hell, the entire reason I’m becoming a fucking lawyer is to make things right…but there’s nothing I want less than that right now. There’s nothing I want more than to forget everything in the world but you.”

Your eyes met his unfocused ones, and you took a step closer. An unprecedented confidence overtook you, like the universe was giving you a shove, and you had no fucking clue where it was coming from.

You stood closer than you had ever been to him. Close enough to feel his hot breath on your face and his usual musk of birchwood and peppermint.

“Then forget, Matthew,” you whispered. Boldly. Making up a sexy voice that you had only heard from women in movies. “Forget with me.”

Whatever you did worked, because with one last second of rapid breathing, he slid his hands around your jaw, and attacked your mouth with his own.

Nothing could have prepared you for the addiction that was the feeling of his body against yours and his tongue in your mouth.

You immediately pulled him closer to you by his collar, kissing him so harshly your teeth clashed, and he reciprocated the motion by lifting you into the air. He backed you up into the coffee table and, with his mouth still meeting yours with a fever, single-handedly swiped every document and legal pad off the wood. You gasped as you heard the papers fly through the air and smack against the ground, but at the same time, you pressed against his crotch harder.

Something about him knowing exactly where this was going knocked every rational thought from your brain.

You moved your hands to his face and hair as he laid you down delicately and crawled over you, completely covering you with his body.

Nothing could have prepared you for that feeling either.

He moved to your neck, and his loud breathing mixed with frequent moans sent chills down your body. Your breathing matched his in volume, and you slid your hands under his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. All of him.

You smiled dreamily, already feeling completely fucked out, before asking innocently, “Do you want to taste me, Matty?”

His body shuddered at your ask, and your heart leaped to your throat.

“Please Y/N,” he groaned in your ear, “please.”

Had you ever heard him use that word before?

You chuckled. “Get on with it.”

He removed your clothes so fast you didn’t even have time to wonder why a “blind” person would know how to do that so well.

You pulled his shirt and pants off as well, but when you reached for his boxers, he politely moved your hand away.

“No,” he said softly. “If you touch me anywhere close to there I’m going to drench them.”

He giggled—giggled—at your silence, likely imagining a shocked expression etched upon you, and kissed all around your face.

“What?” he questioned. “I thought sex was about honesty.”

You laughed back. “Not necessarily brutal honesty.”

“We’re lawyers,” he countered, moving down your body with his lips.

“Not yet.”

He smiled and kissed around your stomach and hip bones, breathing deeper and slower. He was slowing himself down.

“Don’t rush me Y/N,” he whispered against your skin. “I’ve waited over a year for this.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

And then he dove in.

You were surprised your scream didn’t shatter his windows.

He mapped you out so intentionally, so thoroughly, and so unapologetically that it felt different than anything else you had ever experienced. He hit every crevice just enough to leave you wanting more before moving onto the next one, and you dug your nails into his hair to keep you tied down to earth.

“Matthew fu—fuck.”

He grinned and swirled his tongue so perfectly that the familiar rope of heat began to coil in your belly faster than you had ever had.

“I feel you. I feel you. Fuck you’re right there Y/N,” he breathed. He then moved up your body and held his fingers above your lips. You didn’t hesitate to bring them to your mouth and swirl your tongue around them, tasting a mix of his sweat and skin.

You could’ve sworn he drooled at the feeling.

You pressed a kiss to his palm before he went back to work with his fingers instead of his mouth, perfectly lathered, and when he massaged your clit just so, everything inside you imploded.

You regained feeling when Matt brushed a piece of sweaty hair from your forehead and kissed it gently.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You scratched your hands up his naked back and kissed his shoulder. “Just wait until you give me a second one.”

He didn’t laugh at that. “Are you sure?”

You held his face in your hands and rubbed your thumbs over his cheekbones. “I’m sure.”

With that, a smile so big it reached his eyes etched over his beautiful face, and he kissed you long and hard.

“Okay,” he said excitedly, and reached for his discarded pants on the floor. “Alright.”

He pulled out his wallet and tore through it with shaky hands. You laughed and took it from his hands, finding the condom almost immediately.

He couldn’t stop rubbing your body.

“Classy, Murdock.”

“When am I to not be prepared?”

You kissed his nose and dragged your hand down his stomach, tracing every ab, every scar.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you are.”

He hummed, tensing up at the word, and you kissed him softly.

One day you would make him believe it.

“You can take them off now,” he said softly, and you obliged. His cock sprung free, hitting his belly, and you felt your pupils grow almost instantly.

He laughed at your silence. “That bad?”

“Yeah,” you replied, opening the condom with your teeth. “That bad.”

He laughed again, and you slid the condom over his length. He hissed as you did this, arms shaking in restraint, and you pumped him only once.

He growled through his teeth, “Careful.”

You were never that. Not with him.

He lined himself up and kissed you softly, breathing into your mouth, and slid his right hand into yours with a loving squeeze before he entered you.

You knew about Matt’s religious affiliations. You knew how close he held that to his heart and kept his moral code in check, but you weren’t that way, had never been, and never planned to be.

But when he slid inside you and the curve of him entered you just right, you had never believed in God more.

The two of you gasped cohesively when you felt how well you fit together, and Matt stayed still, forcing himself not to instantly snap his hips back.

You squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. “Let go Matt. I can take it.”

And did he ever.

He rocked into you so intensely you saw stars and every molecule of oxygen from your lungs escaped you. His rocks were hard and deep, touching places inside you you didn’t even know existed.

Matt’s breath was just as stolen, and with every thrust, he had something more to say.

God Y/N you’re perfect.

I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this, but how worth it it’s been.

I’m going to believe in God for the rest of my life. The rest of my life. What else could have created you?

Let’s keep doing this. Fuck let’s do this forever.

A single tear dripped down your face, and he licked it away.

“I’m almost there,” he whispered into your ear, and gave your hand another squeeze. “Tell me how to get you there.”

You swallowed. “My—touch me where you touched me before. Right there yes right there.”

You clenched around him, and he sucked in a breath.

Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead down onto you as he said, “I’m…I’m there Y/N. I’m coming.”

You exhaled, drenched in euphoria. “I am too.”

And you went together, just like you always did.

There was nothing left in your body but pleasure. No aches or pains from stress, nor pounding in your head, there was only him. Only Matthew.

He pressed his forehead against you, still inside of you, and kissed down the bridge of your nose.

“I needed that,” he mumbled. “I need you.”

You smiled and rubbed your thumb against his shaking hand, still encapsulated in your own. “I need you too.”

He pecked the side of your mouth before moving his mouth down to your breasts, kissing all around them, before ending his feast on top of your heart. He pressed a longer kiss there before fully collapsing on top of you, exhaling in an entirely different way than before.

“Fuck this test,” he whispered, and you smiled. Feeling only him.

“Fuck this test.”

Tag list:

@leahkenobi

#matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matthew murdock #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil #marvel fanfic writer #marvel #sub!matt murdock #karen page #foggy nelson

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qu1etwolf · 2 years ago

Text

I Just Need You

Pairing - sub!Matt Murdock x f!reader

Warnings -!! 18+ !!, Some light kink (restrained by hand, choking), safewording, smutty themes but no actual smut, fluffy feels, slight sacrilege (it wouldn't be a DD fic without blasphemy, come on now.) Submissive Matt is his own warning.

A/N - Established relationship, assume that kink negotiations happened off the page. Stoplight safeword system is used. Be safe if your kinky endeavors!

Thanks to @anxiousnoodles for beta reading this. It's taken me too long to finish it, honestly.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Late in the evening the office of Nelson, Murdock, and Page is empty, save for one office who's lamp is only ever lit in case you happen to check in on your way home from your own job. Sure enough, sitting in the dim light emitting from the small lamp on the desk is a burned out and exhausted Matt Murdock.

His hair is disheveled from the many times his hands have found themselves running through it over the course of the evening. His slate grey tie is pulled slightly loose away from his collar and lays crooked against his untouched white button up. His ruby tinted glasses sat perched on the bridge of his nose, almost entirely forgotten about as his hands trailed lightly across the paperwork in front of him. The room was silent aside from the scratching of his calloused fingertips across the raised bits of paper.

Matt lifts his head as he hears you walk into the reception for the office, a little startled that he didn't notice earlier.

A soft smile twitches across his face as he hears the cadence of your heels across the floor seconds before you press your lips against his hair from behind his desk chair.

"Long night, sweetheart?" Your voice is soothing and quiet.

"Rough couple of weeks. That obvious?" Matt sighs the words out in a quiet rumble, his hands finally pausing from running across the braille.

You gently run your hands across his shoulders before working your thumbs into the tense muscles at the base of his neck. "Yeah, it's that obvious."

You run your fingertips up the back of his neck and feel his skin prickle into goosebumps. You work your fingers into his hair and scratch your nails firmly across his scalp in slow circles.

His breath falls from his lips in a huff before turning into a quiet groan. You can feel Matt's muscles release as you move your hands repeatedly from his shoulders to the crown of his head and back down, your nails making soft red lines on his skin.

"Your hands are magic, you know that?" His voice is strained and tired.

A smirk plays across your lips as you chuckle. You continue to claw your manicured nails through his hair, watching his head fall back against you. "So you keep telling me."

After a few minutes of silence and letting you massage his scalp, he spins his chair to face you, looking up at you and feigning eye contact as best he can. The effect is appreciated, though unnecessary.

He lifts out of his chair, almost pressing against you as he stands. A small flash of perfectly white teeth is followed by his hand gently cupping your cheek. "Is it okay if I return the favor?"

You lean your cheek in against the hand he placed on your face with a nod. "Of course. Why are you asking?"

Silently, his head tilts to the side slightly as his finger tips brush the shell of your ear. The gentle, almost too light to feel, contact against your ear triggers a shiver to roll down your spine. His fingers continue to dance down along your jaw. His smile widens when he catches your heart starting to race and your breath hitch every so slightly.

The path of his hands follows your chin and then lifts to trace your lips as if he is reading your face the same way he was reading the braille of his reports. He pauses with his thumb in the center of your bottom lip. "Tell me if it's too much."

You let out a raspy groan as he adds his other hand to the other side of your face, mirroring the soft drags of calloused fingers across your skin. He moves back to your ears and follows the exact same trail as earlier, slightly firmer, with both hands as if trying to memorize your face. You lean into his hands, registering that he spoke, but not hearing what he said. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean back against the wall, your knees going weak. Your hands fall to his waist to balance yourself and they flex against his shirt, settling right above his belt.

His thumbs resting against your lower lip, pull against it slightly before he leans in and presses his lips to yours. The softness of the kiss lingers as he pulls away.

Your eyes drop down to his parted lips.

His hands follow the now familiar trail in reverse, brushing back along your jaw. He traces the back of your neck with one hand just as lightly as he had everything else before grabbing it in a vice grip suddenly, forcing a gasp from you. He massages the nape of your neck, as he moves his other hand into your hair and grips it tightly.

"Tell me to stop." The words come out as a raspy whisper, just a slight hint of desperation tinged around the edges.

Confusion momentarily clouds your already sensation-addled mind. You open your eyes and search his face for clues. The words come out between heavy breaths. "Why on earth would I tell you that?"

Just as quickly as his hands gripped your hair, his teeth bite down around your earlobe. It's sharp and a louder than you intended noise escapes your mouth.

His breath comes out in a soft sigh. His hands release their hold on you and drop to brush the sides of your neck and shoulder with featherlight touches as he speaks.

"Give me your hands."

He brings his hands down from your neck and makes a small gesture, obviously expecting you to place your hands in his.

You lift your hands from their comfortable spot, your thumbs are hooked in his belt. You place your wrists in his waiting hands.

He spends a moment running his fingers across your hands lightly before bringing them up to the front of his throat and placing them there carefully. His body tenses immediately, even before you have time to react to what he has done.

Your eyes grow wide as his face goes slack. "Are you asking me for what I think you're asking me for?"

The tension in his body starts to slowly ease. You can feel him relaxing against your hands. The nod he gives you is almost imperceptible as he leans his head back slightly and his breathing deepens.

"I'm going to need you to use your words, Matthew." You run your thumbs along the pointed edge of his jaw on the left side of his face. This wasn't something new, it was just rare that he asked you this way.

He sputters out a quick and stilted, "Yes, ma'am. Please."

You push your thumbs against the back of his jaw, forcing his already tilted head to stay in place. Your fingers tighten just slightly over the delicate flesh of his throat, pushing against the sides. You can feel his pulse quicken under your fingertips as a groan falls from his parted lips. His eyes fall shut and you can feel his adam's apple shift as he swallows against your palms.

A sound erupts from low within your throat not unlike a quiet growl as you put more pressure against his jaw with your thumbs, tilting his head back further and exposing more of his throat to you, ensuring he feels as vulnerable as you can make him.

His body freezes and you can feel each breath he takes, each beat of his heart, each heave of his chest. His cheeks start getting a deep red blush across them.

"Please...stop." His voice is barely audible but laced with desperation and panic. It's a delicious and delicate sound.

You know very well what his safeword is and what he means by pleading with you. You bear down harder with your fingers on the sides of his throat, cutting off more of the blood flow.

A few moments later, he gasps and taps your leg with his hand hard, the color draining from his face, "Yellow, sweetheart, yellow." He coughs the words out sharply.

You immediately release his throat and he takes a deep, heady breath of air filled with your perfume. His head falls forward against your shoulder with a soft thunk and he snakes his arms tightly around your waist. There isn't an ounce of tightness left in his body. His shoulders feel like mush.

You lean down and pepper soft kisses along his hairline as you slip your arms around his shoulders and pull him close, your hands rubbing small patterns into his skin. "You were so good, Matty. How are you feeling? What do you need?"

He allows a quiet whimper to fall past his lips as he runs his cheek gently across your collarbone. His stubble prickles against your skin in a familiar way that makes you smile. His fingers dig into the muscles in the middle of your back as he hangs on to you as if you’re the only life raft in the ocean of his emotions.

“Just hold me…please.”

He presses his lips against your neck tentatively.

You run your hands across his back gently from his shoulders, down across his shoulder blades, to his waist and back, the fabric of his dress shirt crisp against your questing fingers. Your words of praise fall to his ears like a cooling balm on his stressed mind. “You’re okay, honey. You’re safe. I’ve got you. You were so good for me. Such a good boy. I love you, you know that?”

You can feel his lips curl against your skin as he leaves soft, open mouth kisses on your neck and shoulder. His breathing and his heart rate are finally starting to slow to a reasonable level as he relaxes against you. His voice is quiet and raspy, almost as if he had just woke up in the morning. “I love you too. That was…heaven,”

You smile gently down at him, running your fingers through his soft, feathery hair. His eyes are closed as you speak to him. "Was it?"

You feel Matt's head rub against your shoulder as he nods. His voice is quiet but a little more sure now that he was coming back into himself. "Thank you."

"What sparked that? Just the stress?" It has been a while since he's needed a hard factory reset like that. The last time he was swamped with too many cases and couldn't catch a break.

He nods hurriedly, squeezing his eyes shut as you speak. "I needed to feel alive. Needed to feel you. Feel your touch. I just needed you." His whispers tumble out of him rapidly. He interlocks his fingers behind your back and pulls you closer.

You press your hand against the nape of his neck, applying gentle pressure to calm his racing heartbeat. You wrap your other arm securely around his lower back, trying to give him as many points of contact as you can. You lean forward and press your lips lightly to his forehead and he sighs, loudly.

"Oh, honey, you -are- stressed. I've got you. I've always got you. What do you need?"

"I just...need you," Matt says as he leans into your touch. "I want — I need more." His voice comes out barely above a whisper. His skin erupts into goosebumps when he speaks.

"More?" You question him, with a quizzical expression on your face.

He reaches up to your face, pulling you down closer. His eyes are wide and vulnerable, staring at a fixed point past your shoulder. He kisses her cheek with a soft nod. "More. Please." He leans up and brushes his lips against yours as a plea for more attention.

You snake an arm around behind him and grab one wrist, then the other, pinning them behind his back with one hand. You wrench them up at an almost painful angle, simply immobilizing his arms. "That kind of more?"

His body tightens up as he gasps in surprise. You can feel his muscles tighten in response. That wasn't what he was expecting you to do. The shock is like a flood of icy water before the endorphins flood and warm his system.

You lean down and nip lightly at his collarbone.

"Please..." The word comes out as a soft, reverent gasp.

"Please what?" You smile down at him before biting into his shoulder just hard enough to sting. A strangled, vulnerable noise falls out of his mouth.

"Oh god, please stop..." His words trail off into beautiful whimpers. There it is, again. There's the sign that he wants you to push him.

You smile cruelly, your free hand caressing his face, while the other shifts his arms up just the slightest bit further, reminding him that you still have him in such an uncomfortable hold. "You're so pretty when you beg, pup."

You lean down and kiss along his pulse point, his heart feels like hummingbird wings against your lips. You sink your teeth around it, as if you can trap it in your mouth. He cries out at the pain just a little, knowing it will only spur you on.

"Please let go..." He turns his face in to kiss the palm of your hand, the words spoken against your skin. You know when he is completely overwhelmed by sensation. His eyes are closed and his body is tense like a rabbit about to run. His breathing is shallow and forced, as if he has forgotten how.

You reward him with a soft kiss to the side of his face. Your hand tightens against his wrists and pulls them up to a more painful angle. The hand cupping his face begins running along his jaw appreciatively. "Such a good boy for me, begging like the pathetic little puppy you are."

You grip his chin tightly before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss against his lips. You sink your teeth suddenly and roughly into his lower lip enough that you taste the barest hint of copper.

A loud groan spills out of him as the pain jolts through his system.

"Okay, okay okay! Red! Enough!" He uses his leg to tap against yours, his voice a little desperate and pained.

You immediately let go and rub your hands from his shoulders, down his arms, and help him stretch them out from being at such a harsh angle for so long. "There you go...breathe, baby."

He takes a deep breath and tries to match your breathing as you intentionally slow yours. His legs are shaking. He props his elbows up on his legs and leans his face into his hands

"Feel better?" You smile at him softly.

He pulls your face to his, leaning his cheek against yours and sighing before closing his eyes. "I really needed that." He runs his hand across the opposite side of your face. "You are a goddess. Thank you."

"Don't let Father Lantom hear you say that. That's blasphemy, Matthew." You snort out a soft laugh.

He leans forward just slightly to press his lips to your ear, the hand on your face holding you firmly. "I don't care. You are the goddess I pray to."

You make a small, almost embarrassing noise when his statement catches you off guard. You melt against him. "Say...say that again. Who do you pray to? Who are you on your knees for?"

He slides to his knees between the desk and your legs, wrapping his arms around your torso, leaning his head into your lap. He speaks with his mouth nearly against your hip. "You. You are the goddess I pray to every night. You are who I am on my knees for every night."

Fic Masterlist

#daredevil (2015 2018)#daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #matt murdock x reader #sub!matt murdock #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x f!reader

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gallaghersgal · 2 years ago

Note

💌 112 with sub matt please!?! love ur blog 🧡🧡

💌 - 112. "i don't feel like sleeping"

nsfw 18+

it's not the first time matt's come home like this; beaten to hell and back, his posture defeated, lips and fingers incessantly chasing your warmth. "we need to get you to bed," you murmur after you've finished cleaning him up, guiding him towards the bedroom. "i don't feel like sleeping," he grumbles, hands grasping hungrily at your hips. "wanna taste you, please." his words are low and breathless. you take pity on him. "okay, alright." you guide him, letting his eager fingers work at the buttons of your silk sleep shirt. his mouth makes contact with your skin before you've even made it to the bedroom. you sigh softly, tangling your fingers in his hair. once you reach the edge of the bed you pull him back, tossing him gently onto the bed. you know it's what he needs. "hands to yourself." "yes ma'am" he responds, blank eyes turned towards the ceiling. he licks his lips in anticipation. "that's my good boy," you coo, running your fingers over the bulge in his sweats. his chest is flushed and heaving as he waits, listening as you rid yourself of your matching silk shorts. you leave the pair of lacy underwear you'd picked just for him on your body. "tonight was hard for you, wasn't it?" he nods, a soft gasp escaping his lips as you climb on top of him. his hands instinctively settle on your hips as you move, but you grab them both, using one hand to pin them over his head. you settle your hips over his face and he whines as his tongue connects with the delicate lace that covers you. "please, please take 'em off-' "shhh," you soothe your fingers through his hair. “i'll take them off when you prove you can be a good boy.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #sub matt #mags' winter sleepover #❀ written by maggie [fics]

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mattpresleybutler · 2 years ago

Text

The blindfold

Matt wanted to try something new. Now he has usually been open with things and will tell you all if the things that he likes especially when in bed but he had been holding off on this one. 😏

You are sitting on the edge of the bed and matt is standing in from to you. You feel so nervous right now. He starts to say

“Before we get started I need you to do a few things for me.”

“Ok” you say in a quiet shakey voice

“You will need a scarf or some length of fabric to use as a blindfold. And I want you naked and lying down on your bed, headphones on.”

You get off the bed and go into your drawer and grab a red piece of silk fabric and walk over to him. You look at him with your doe (your eye color) eyes and start to strip in front of him. And yes you know that he is blind but he can still see and sense everything you are doing.

“Mmhh” he lets out a low hum. He can already smell your arousal

Once you are naked, you lie down on the bed holding your blindfold

“Now let's get started. Just lie down and relax.” he said. Your heartbeat is picking up in speed. You are feeling very nervous but excited. He senses your heartbeat going up and cocks his head to the side. This just turns you on even more.

“ The first thing I want you to do is tie the scarf around your head. I don't want you distracted by anything.”

You tie the scarf around your head obeying his orders.

“Just focus on the sound of my voice. Feel everything around you slip away and disappear.... Just relax..... Feel yourself breathing.....Slowly inhale..... Hold it and then slowly let it out..... I want you to feel every part of your body.”

As you breathe in you feel calm and relaxed. The sound of his voice is so calming its like a trance. As you exhale, you let go of all the tension in your body. You feel the outside world getting farther and farther away, each time you take a breath.

“Inhale... And exhale... Slow... Calmly... Keep breathing as you listen to my voice... Inhale... And exhale.”

You keep doing as he says.

“Now I want you to bend your knees and draw your feet up until your legs are open for me.”

You bring your feet up getting even more nervous and aroused than you were before.

“Nice and wide.” he says “Feel how open and exposed you are... Feel everything around you... The temperature of the room... The sensation of any drafts or breezes washing over you.”

As you sink deeper and deeper into what he's saying you don't even notice that he has gotten closer to you.

“Keep your hands to your side, Resting, And breathe.”

Ask he keeps talking you are slowly feeling the need to be touched. You squirm a bit. You feel your body growing more sensitive.

“Your being such a good girl for me. Open and needy.”

You can feel it inside In your belly A small tingling sensation, desire, you need him so bad, Wanting to feel his touch.

You can feel him over your body shifting on the bed. The feeling is growing even deeper now.

“Please Matty” you whine. Spreading your legs even further. You can feel it in your thighs. Getting more and more sensitive.

“ I know baby but you need to hold back for a little while longer.”

He keeps teasing you and telling you all the things he wants to do to you but still won't touch you. You feel the desire Slowly consuming you.

You think about How good it would feel to be touched. But you keep your hands at your side. Just feeling the need, and The desire.

The tingling and sensitivity is now moving to your clit now.

“ please I can't take more. I need you so bad” you plead.

“Breathe. Slowly. Listen to my voice. Feel it in your belly. My words now inside you. Spreading to your thighs. And to your clit. Feel how much you want to be touched. Teased. Played with.” he says

You let out little moans and whimpers underneath him. He has some effect on you and he knows it. I mean he's making you feel all of this with just his words.

“Try to hold still and listen to my words and feel yourself getting wet for me.” he says

You let out more small moans and are a writhing mess under him.

“Open your legs wider. Knees apart. Spread for me. Place your right hand on your belly. Gently. Just let it sit for a moment.”

You do as he says but you feel the need to tough your self more. You want to rub your clit so bad.

“Feel my touch. My words. In your head. In your body. In your pussy.” he lets out a groan and you don't even have to see him to know that he is hard right now.

You slowly slide your hand up along your naked body. Over your chest To your throat And finally, touching your cheek. You Gently trace your fingertips over your cheek. Touching it gently. You imagine that that is matts touch.

“ that's it, good girl, feel my touch, my words, caressing you, so gentle” he says in a low voice.

You touch yourself so desperatelyad needy. Feel your hunger. Desire. It's like Every part of your body is now connected to your clit and you can feel every sensation between your legs.

“Now take the tip of your finger and trace it over your lips. Slowly. Think of pressing your lips to mine. Kissing me. The pressure of my lips against yours.”

As you touch your lips you kiss the tip of your finger. And keep tracing it over your lips. You can Feel your need growing.

“My touch. My caress. Playing with your lips. Now with your left hand, reach up and touch your throat. Wrap your hand around it, and imagine my fingers gently squeezing, pressing into your tender flesh.”

You Play with your lips and touch your throat. You keep moaning which is just turning matt in even more.

“Mmmhh Matty, I need you so bad.” you whimper

“Feel me starting to consume you. Your need starting to boil inside you. Feel yourself growing wetter for me. Your pussy feeling everything. My touch. My words.” he says.

You can hear him breathing now. You can Feel it on your skin. He is close to you now. Watching you writhe and squirm under him.

“Each sensation now slowly tracing a line to your wet pussy. Making your clit tingle. Think about how good it would feel to be touched there. Touched. Teased.” he says

You bring your hand down you your clit. Now playing with your clit. Feeling it starting to swell. Throb.

“Open your legs wider for me. Touch yourself. Feel it deep inside. Touch your throat. Trace your finger over it.” he says

You let out one of the most unholy moans ever finally being able to tough yourself. But he stops you.

“ ah ah I'm not done with you yet, you can keep going can't you? Come on be a good girl for me.” he says as you whine and retract your fingers from your needy clit.

You Feel your pussy growing more and more needy. Feel how much you want to touch yourself. How much you need it.

“Can you feel How much is it is starting to ache for me?” he says

“ y- yes please matty I want you so bad” you whine

“Not yet” he says sternly. “Now slowly move your hands down to your breasts. Touch your nipples. Play with them. Tease them. Feel them connected to your clit. Each touch making your hunger grow. They are connected now. Pinch them and pull them.”

You Tug at them and twist them and feel every sensation between your legs.

“ Think of me watching as your face changes and you become more and more lost. I want you to feel desperate for me. Needy. Slutty. Horny.” he says

You really need to touch your pussy. So much. But he won't let you. Not yet.

“I want you to feel the connection between your nipples and your clit. Just trace your fingers over them.”

You do as he says Barely touching them. Feel them stiffen.

“Tease them for me. I want to see you squirm for me. I want to hear you whimper and moan. Becoming my desperate, needy girl.” he says.

You feel yourself getting wetter and a moaning mess indeed him

“Keep playing with your nipples with your left hand. Touching them and teasing them. And with your right hand, slowly slide it down to your belly. Touch yourself there. Trace your fingers back and forth.”

Deep inside, you can feel your desire starting to overwhelm you. An orgasm starting to grow. Even without touching your clit or your pussy. Every sensation is connected. Everything makes your pussy swell and your clit tingle. Like an itch you can't scratch. So many feelings building. Growing. Frustration. Desire. You Raise your hips and trace your fingertip along your pussy lips. You Feel your wetness.

“Just one time. No more.” he says

You press your wet finger tip to your lips and wipe your wetness on your mouth.

“Feel the desire and need. Taste yourself. Now slowly touch your inner thighs. Draw your fingers inside your legs, just up to your pussy. But no touching. Not yet. Slower. Tease yourself for me. I want to see how wet and desperate I can make you.” he says

You keep playing with your nipples and touching your inner thighs.

“Feel how much you want to be touched.Your clit is so swollen and needy. Just like you. Every part of you. Your mind. Your body. Your soul. All of you is now centered there. Feel it. Tingling. So desperate for my touch.” he says

His words have so much effect on you, you don't know how he does it. You just need him so bad.

“Place your hands back to your sides. No more touching.” he says

“Matty please I can't do it anymore. I need you so bad! I'll do anything PLEASE mmhhhh” you moan

“I'll let you touch yourself again soon, Just listen to my voice.”he says

You resentfully do as he says

“I want to caress your cheek. Touch you so gently.” he says

“Please, please do it. Touch me Matty” you moan

He Traces his fingers over your lips, making you hunger for his kiss. He wraps his hands around your throat, completely surrounding you. Pressing into you. His other hand now playing with your nipples, feeling them grow stiff at his touch. His hands exploring you. Touching you. Teasing you.

He senses your every reaction. His lips now on you. Kissing. Sucking your nipples. Kissing your belly. Gently pressing against the tender skin of your thighs. Raising his head up and pressing myself closer between your legs. Close. But not touching you.

You can feel his breath on your pussy. And he blows softly, right on your clit. Watching you and listening to you. Knowing how much you need his touch.

“Mmhh please matty please please pleaseeee” you plead

As you are begging you feel the tip of his tongue barely make contact with you. It lingers for what feels like forever and then it is gone.

It makes the aching worse. More swollen. More needy.

Then he does it again. Shorter this time. His hot breath mixing with short kisses and licking. Teasing you more.

you feel him take hold of your wrist and guide your hand between your legs.

He whispers into your ear. "I want to watch you touch yourself."

You take no time in doing that. He is watching you now as you do just that.

“I want to see you masturbate. For me. But I don't want you to cum until I tell you to. I want to watch you edge for me. I want you close. Needy. Desperate.” he says

You slowly rub your clit trying not to cum on the spot with how he is talking to you.

“Touch your pussy for me. Show me how desperate you are. Let my words fill you up. Show me your desire. Find that edge and hold yourself there for me.” he says

You feel your self getting closer and closer

“Your orgasm isn't for you. It is for me. And I want to make you earn it. I want every single part of you focused on your clit. On your pussy. On the touch that I am giving you. And now. I want you to cum for me.” he says

You rub your clit and feel that familiar coil building in your stomach

“Now. Cum.”

You feel the overwhelming sensation. You are writhing and squirming under him. A moaning mess just for him. As soon as you start to come down from your high he says,

“And listen. Because I want you to know. You are my toy. My slut. My treasure. My needy, desperate girl. My whore. My pet. But most of all. You are mine.” he says

You feel him shift on the bed and take the red silk blindfold off your head. You are so tired that you could fall asleep right then an there. He gets up and grabs a wash cloth from the bathroom and soaks it in warm water and beings it back out to you.

He starts to clean you up and brings you your favorite pair of pajamas. He gets in the bed with you and snuggles up into you.

“ was that to harsh?” he says

No, that was amazing, you were amazing” you said you worry a but because he didn't get to feel good yet and you asked

“Do you want me to help you? I can if you want me to!” you say in a sleepy voice

“No it's ok you just read and get some sleep!” he says

“ I love you so much y/n” he says quietly sensing you heartbeat getting slower as you are falling asleep

“I love you too Matty.” you say quietly as you drift off to sleep. Matt soon falls asleep to the sound of your heart beat.

A/N: this is my first smut and I hope this is good. I hope it's not too cringe. I tried my best. 😂 if you guys have any requests you can let me know through messages or through the inbox.

#matt murdock #matt murderdock #mathew murdock #matt murdock smut #daredevil #daredevil smut #matt murdock x reader #charlie cox #charlie cox smut #sub elvis #elvis!sub x reader #elvis!sub #elvis!sub smut #austin butler #austin butler smut #presley #elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis movie

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bunmurdock · 4 months ago

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am i the only one who finds that premature ejaculation can actually be really hot? 😔 like idk about y’all but im pretty sure matt would be the type to cum quickly and even untouched sometimes because (yk hypersenses)and i think he wouldn’t be ashamed at all cause that man is a charming slut.

but it’s not like sex with him is quick cause i’m also sure that it is really NOT. he takes his sweet time with his partners and when he wants to last longer he just pulls off to let himself breath and his partners wouldn’t even notice why he is doing that because he’s so smooth with it that it just looks like he’s teasing them, yk? he’d pull off and eat them out or slow down his rhythm or even make his partners cum quicker by sliding his hand to their clit 😵‍💫🐰

also really specific fantasy of matt eating pussy (cause he’s a munch duh) and literally cumming on his pants just from it !! </33 so when you’re getting really close and your moans get louder his do too and you don’t really get why until after your climax he lifts himself up and you see that damp spot on his boxers

BUT while his heightened senses might make him cum quicker than usual they also give him a really high sex drive like ik that man is INSANE and he definitely compenses his sexual partners (which he canonically has a lot, i love my experienced man) by getting hard again in a matter of seconds

ANYWAYS 🤕

it's so hot whimper :( i got inspired...

i can see matt murdock climaxing two minutes into you riding him in earnest, bed swaying so hard his cane clatters to the ground from where it's propped up against the headboard. he chokes and wheezes from the overstimulation. maybe you graze your nails—they can be long or short—over his chest, nipples, stomach, with just the right amount of pain mixed in with the pleasure, and he'd twitch with every marking. because hitherto all his senses were trained on you, your expressions, curves, and breaths, until you got him where he was most sensitive, most guarded. his arms would come up and seize yours on instinct. maybe you'd gently push them back over his head, leaning down to cup his precious head in your hands, kiss his nose, and whisper sweet little nothings at him. i could see him barely croaking out that he's gonna cum if you don't stop riding him, before seizing up and lifting his hips so high into yours you're raised off the bed momentarily while he empties himself into you. flips you over a while later, and shoots another load into the bedsheets like a touch-starved teenage boy from the way your cunt wags into his face while he inhales your girlmusk.

also, i've said it before, but matt murdock strikes me as someone who prefers to make love with a consistent partner over flings with strangers. most wouldn't want to hear about his personal problems or really get to know him for who he is beyond the surface. but if he was with someone he felt completely safe, perceived, and accepted around, i could see him as capable of being made to cum in thirty seconds flat, anywhere, any place. lots of silly little quickies everywhere. as long as it's with you ^—^b

masterlist | share your mm fantasies

#inbox #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #bunny brain #bun’s #>500 words #dom!reader #!overstimulation #!denialplay #!oral #sub!matt

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farfromstrange · 2 years ago

Text

Total Eclipse Of The Heart | Matt Murdock

Matt Murdock x Vampire!reader (f!reader)

Part 1 // Part 2 (currently here) // Part 3 (coming soon)

PART TWO - Humans are dying at the hands of her species and she has to do something about it, but how can she when the object of her attraction just so happens to stumble into her path over and over again, as if he's just as addicted to her as she is to him?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Very explicit sexual language, dubious consent (inappropriate touching, dirty talk), blood, vampires, death, bad humor, plot, religious imagery (?), submissive Matt Murdock, Dom!Reader, DARK FANTASY (dead dove do not eat), really, this is absolutely filthy dark, AND not proof-read

A/n: This is so dark, holy shit… Here’s the second part! I hope you’re not mad at me that I left you waiting. 2023 already feels so weird I don’t know why, but I’ve finally finished this chapter and I’m getting to work on the third one as we speak. The smut is coming soon, I promise. Until then, I’m just going to get you all worked up :)

DARK CONTENT UNDER HERE, 18+ ONLY!

Ever since the beginning of time, humans have felt threatened by their fellow species. The goal is self-preservation rather than preserving the world around them. At the same time though, there has never been another species so hell-bent on destroying their habitat than the human race.

She watched the seasons come and go. Where one life ended, another started. Humans were fast to reproduce, she realized, but they were also just as fast to die. Sickness and injury are the biggest threats to the human body. You could be okay one second, then on your deathbed the next. While the female body could withstand the terrible strain of childbirth, it stands no chance against cancer. You could bleed out in seconds if the right vein is nicked, and if you fall the wrong way, a broken neck will either kill you instantly or leave you dependent on machines for the rest of your life.

While humans are considered the most sophisticated species since the beginning of time, they are all collectively fragile.

The last time she was actively human, she didn’t even have a quarter of the knowledge at hand that she gained later in life. Times have changed since then. The world grew into something new, something modern, and the human race evolved with it.

They’ve never had many nice words to say about her kind, so it came naturally to be terrified of a species that was more than willing to eradicate her own.

Sure, killing and blood-sucking isn’t something that goes over well with a crowd, but she often emphasized that they weren’t all cold-blooded murderers. Not all vampires were the same, and the lore often got it wrong.

Cold, they were, but only temperature-wise. Her half of the litter, anyway. And they were murderers too, else they wouldn’t have survived this long. Drinking blood to survive was a curse she wished upon no one. It naturally made her species reborn killers; they had to take a life to sustain their own, and since death and starvation weren’t in the cards without a stake through the heart, they had to follow their most primal instincts.

She tried to refrain from murder like a good citizen, and it worked, most of the time. There are other ways to get blood that doesn’t involve murdering an innocent. In Hell’s Kitchen, she could easily roll open a map and point to a random place, and she surely would have found criminals deserving of punishment.

But there were also humans who didn’t fear her species, those who were willing to give to the cause voluntarily. They liked to call themselves blood-submissive as if it were a sexual practice on its own – the sex was a nice byproduct, and some of those people were born to be whores, but making it a new trend was something she wished would never happen.

Though she was well aware of the subculture around humans fetishizing vampires, who were all more than ready to give their blood. Humans are so susceptible to overstimulation, especially through strange forces, even the smallest taste of a vampire’s blood could get them high enough up the precipice to push them into an orgasm.

That was the one thing that enticed her the most; the human anatomy, and how responsive they were to stimuli. She knew all about it, and yet she found herself surprised again and again whenever she lay with someone new.

That evening though, she woke up with a heavy feeling in her stomach. One that wouldn’t go away.

She entered the kitchen of her shared home to find a stranger sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. Two very obvious holes adorned the young man’s neck. He didn’t look terrified when he saw her, only overly tired and perhaps a little drained.

She sighed heavily, moving to get herself a drink from the fridge. Not that she had one already sitting there, but he wasn’t hers to take. He had already been labeled with two very sharp fangs that could only belong to one person.

“Eli, you left your dinner in the kitchen!” her voice bounced off the high walls, doing black flips until it finally made the human twitch. “No offense,” she said. “I’m just not a fan of waking up to blood banks sitting at my kitchen counter.”

He opened his mouth, but no words would come out.

She grinned. With her mug in hand, she returned to ask the boy, “Coffee?”

He declined.

“Well, you can’t say I haven’t tried to be hospitable with you.”

Just in time, Eli came around the corner wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. She rolled her eyes. It was one of those guests.

She met Eli somewhere around 1800 when she spent some time in the deserts of Egypt. He was only a couple of days old then, bitten by a passing vampire with no regard for human life. Eli was lucky to have survived, but with no one to teach him, he went rogue and slaughtered his entire village in a hungry haze. When he came to, the life he once knew had been destroyed beyond repair.

She saved him. Initially, she planned to just pass through, but the word about a vampire on the loose traveled fast, even back then, and so she found herself in Eli’s village soon after, convincing him to join her. She saved his life and therefore, he felt as if he owed her. They never left each other's side again.

Though sometimes, Eli was particularly hard to live with. He was almost like an unruly child, and he left his food lying out most of the time – he tended to forget that wasn’t the only hungry one in the household.

“Would you stop calling every human I bring home a blood bank?” he said.

“If you stop letting them stay for breakfast,” she retorted.

He met her bitter smile with a sour one of his own. “Not everyone feels the need to submit to you as Talon does.”

“Maybe I should make that a rule then. I mean, I am the head of this coven, after all. The least you can do is give me some respect.” She eyed the young man still sitting at the counter, completely hypnotized by the shirtless man prancing around the kitchen. “And your blood whores, too, before you start giving them a sexually transmitted human disease. Or turn them into one of us.”

He scoffed. She patted his shoulder as she passed by him, taking the chance to whisper into his ear, “Would be a shame if I had to drive a stake through one of them when all they signed up for was just a little fun.”

She couldn’t help herself. On her way out, she passed by the helpless human, pulling his head back by the hair to reveal his deliciously long neck, and she dipped her nose to take him in. The blood running through his veins smelled beyond divine. Sweet temptation. She wanted to bury her teeth in his soft skin and suck until he was empty. “Ah, delicious,” she said. “Youngblood, untainted, pure. Excellent pick. I wonder if he tastes as good as he smells.”

The tips of her sharp fangs scratched at his neck, and she had to force herself to pull away before she could make the mistake of taking Eli’s food off his plate.

“Get him out of here,” she told him. “Before I make you bathe in holy water for the rest of the week.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

The respect issue was a problem she had to deal with. She wasn’t someone to play around, with except for the bedroom. She was nothing if not playful there, with someone writhing underneath her and begging for the mercy of pleasure, and they would always get what they wanted and deserved. She was considerate like that. But her lovers also never struggled to pay her respect. That seemed to be a family problem only.

Perhaps she had to assert more dominance over them too, even if it was just for kicks. They would learn soon enough. It wasn’t exactly easy to be a leader, after all. That was common knowledge even amongst the undead.

The vibrations of the phone in her pocket caused her to look up. She checked the text – a piece of technology she was quite fond of, the cell phone – and if she hadn’t been pale enough already, she surely would have turned white as a sheet right about now.

“What happened?” she asked as she entered the main room.

Talon nodded his head. “I just got word from my source at the police station,” he told her.

“And?”

“There’s been several suspicious murders in Hell’s Kitchen in the past week.”

“If I wanted a broken record player, I would have gone into the attic. Spit your words out now, Talon, or I will cut out your tongue.”

He flinched, remaining in his position with his head bowed downward. He couldn’t look into her almost blacked-out eyes and be met with disappointment.

“The victims have been drained of most of their blood, but the injection sites are sloppy, so a lot of the blood got wasted and spilled around the corpses,” he said.

“That’s… graphic.” She rolled her eyes. Chaos only compelled distraction. “But not at all the details I need,” she said.

“Yes, I was just getting to the important part. There’s security footage that shows a foreign party escaping from the site of the murder, and the same person is shown a couple of days later attacking the third victim in a blood-thirsty rage.”

The scenery sounded all too familiar. She tilted her head, intrigued by his report, and moved forward. “What exactly are they saying?”

“The police are blaming it on a new drug epidemic that has the users acting out to the point they would cause a blood bath. The drug supposedly triggers hallucinations that make them unaware of their surroundings and crave violence.”

“You mean blood. The drug is making them crave blood.”

“That’s what they’re thinking, but it’s not in the official report.”

“Yeah because that drug is called vampirism and that’s not exactly an epidemic that should be happening,” she said.

Talon nodded. “Police are issuing a warning,” he told her, “without knowing what they’re warning from. It’s just a couple of kids overdosing and bleeding out in the most ghastly of ways. They’re saying it’s drugs because they don’t understand.”

She grew more and more agitated with every word that slipped past his lips. The pedestal that kept her above the man made her seem much taller than she actually was. She paced the floor. It gave her a sense of superiority that she fought very hard to receive. Her status surpassed those of the people around her. She was older and wiser and perhaps slightly more sophisticated. Her moves were calculated yet often brutal because she learned that you get nothing in life if you’re not willing to spill a little blood, literally and figuratively. To have something or someone threaten her precious freedom like that was an obvious call for action

She halted her movements when he went quiet. “Do they have proof?” she questioned as if she expected him to tell her himself.

“No,” Talon said.

“Good. Call a meeting. I need to know who did this. And make sure no one knows beforehand. The last thing I need right now is a fucking vampire uproar.”

“What, you suspect it was one of us?” He had a doubting frown resting on his pale face.

“While I have faith that you can keep your fangs in your jaw, I need to make sure I’m not misplacing that faith,” she stated. “If I’m wrong in my suspicions, that is good for you. If I’m right and one of you idiots is behind this, I will drive you to hell myself.”

“If you want to have my opinion…”

She smirked, “I really don’t.”

“But if I may?”

“You may not.” Stepping down from the pedestal, she eyed him. “Call the meeting,” she ordered. “In the meantime, I’m going to get myself a bottle of Scotch to drown my sorrows, and then I’m going to steal from the police.”

Talon yelled after her, “Do you need any help, boss?”

“Yes. You can help yourself to stop crawling up my ass! That would help me a lot, actually. Don’t get me wrong,” she said, “I like my men submissive, but your behavior is just getting pathetic now. I’m your boss, not your mother. She’s dead. Deal with it.”

It wasn’t the first time she broke into the police station in Hell’s Kitchen. Crime rates exploded at night, which meant a higher police presence in the building, but at the same time, the cells overflowed with the many criminals they caught. They were always drowning in paperwork, and the crime never seemed to take an end.

She waited until the commotion in the bullpen caused the officer at the front desk to jump from his seat and escalate the situation. She sped toward the file cabinet, retrieved what she needed, and disappeared just as fast as she had come.

The officer looked up to find nothing but a strong breeze knocking the documents off his desk. He frowned, choosing to ignore it as the man underneath him writhed against the handcuffs.

Talon said a lot yet nothing at all. She eyed the pictures in the moonlight, the dead eyes staring straight into the security cameras, the man’s body covered in blood as he left a trail of bodies along the Hudson’s riverbed. He downplayed it. This was bad, a monster out of control, someone who shouldn’t even have existed in the first place and yet somehow came to life. There were clear rules. Those rules had been broken in more than one place, shattered on the ground, and then walked over with utmost disrespect.

And he wasn’t the only one. Every murder was accompanied by one of the herds escaping, later appearing on the scene of another crime. To the untrained eye, it appeared as if these kids were high and just playing around. The blood around the bodies was significant, so the ordinary human might sort it as an overdose after all. An accident. Though none of the things she saw were accidental.

They killed without a care, without remorse, and at the rate they were going, she was sure they wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

It wasn’t the first time she had to run against the clock, but it had been a while since she was tossed into such a situation where she had to choose between peace and her most primal nature. She had to appeal to her common sense. She knew better than to let them continue this.

Humans aren’t stupid but often underestimated. At this rate, if they kept going, war seemed inevitable.

These strangers were hunting on her turf and they turned everything upside down. She wasn’t having it. She had to do something.

The wind came from the far east and blew through the streets. Many different smells lay in the air that night, but the most prominent hit her nose at the front step of the precinct.

She tilted her head. She could sense him clearly now. He still smelled the same, his blood a bittersweet taste on her tongue, and she craved more. His heartbeat filled her ears, an elevated sound. She searched for him in the night until the sound of his scruffy, careful voice caught in her ears.

He stood on the fire escape of the precinct’s second floor. The metal creaked. A door fell shut. He wasn’t alone.

“Look, man, I’d be happy to help you, especially because we are way in over our heads with this case, but I told you,” the second voice said, “The file is gone.”

She stared down at the brown folder in her hands.

“What do you mean gone?” he asked, finally, and her eyes rolled back at the mere sound of him.

He was everywhere, so goddamn overwhelming, all she wanted was to pull him off that fire escape, into the alley, and turn him into a helpless mess until he was begging her for mercy with tears in his eyes – she could only imagine the soft color behind the red glasses. Were they brown, green, or perhaps even blue? They surely would turn black with lust and then gloss over with exhaustion from the sheer overstimulation when she was done with him. Though she would only stop when the color of his eyes would disappear behind his eyelids as he slipped into a state of unconsciousness, the pleasure causing his mortal body to shut down and submit even more to the power she wielded.

“Apparently, someone took it.”

“Since when do people steal files from a police station, Sergeant?”

The man shrugged. “It’s not the first time,” he said. “Happens more often than you might think.”

“What now?” her nameless stranger asked.

She could only imagine his mouth moving in sync with his gravelly voice, the movement of his Adam’s Apple in his throat as he swallowed, and the way his hands balled to fists at his sides, the beautiful veins protruding and his knuckles turning white. She wondered how those hands would feel somewhere other than a cane or a metal rod. How they would look tracing not the brim of glass but rather a different opening. Playing with wetness until his hands were coated in it the same way he played with the condensation on the glass of his drink.

“Sergeant, if you want me to help you, I need more than a whim to go on. Do you have anything you could give me?”

“Look, I can’t help you,” the Sergeant said, “but if I did know something, I would suggest scouting out the docks. Ground zero seems to be close to the docks, but I’ve also got word that the rest of Manhattan might be involved too, so I’d be careful if I were you.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever. We have heightened police presence there since the first suspected overdose, consider that before you make any wrong moves.”

That stopped him. “Suspected?” he questioned.

He was a smart one. Her lip curled into a distant smirk.

“I’m not saying it’s not an overdose, I’m just saying they’re too suspicious to be instantly ruled as such. It’s my opinion, not the official statement, and everyone else here at the station and even the DA’s office agree with the drug epidemic explanation. But I’m not sure it’s right to assume that, not yet, not without evidence,” he said. “We judge people way too quickly these days.”

The stranger chuckled again, his voice darker than when she met him, but the darkness he displayed was something she thoroughly enjoyed. It was enticing, eliciting an excitement she hadn’t felt in quite a while.

“Are you talking about me?” he asked sheepishly, and she imagined him smirking. He seemed more confident in that alley, fully in his element, not at all as submissive as he had been around her.

She wondered if there were two sides to that man whose name she still hadn’t figured out.

The Sargeant scoffed, opening the door back into the precinct. Hot air met the cold one outside, causing the air to condensate. She could feel it even from a distance, the changes in temperature, the warmth that felt more wrong than it felt right.

“Just be careful,” he told him.

The fire escape squeaked and the sound of his boots disappearing into the distance had her frowning. Blind men don’t jump rooftops and they don’t do parkour. There was more to him than she first suspected. He wasn’t the innocent man he made himself out to be. He had dark secrets that went way below the surface. Her curiosity was spiked. She needed to see him again and she needed to have him now.

She held the file in the air, watching as the edges started to crinkle and the fire spread from her fingertips, infecting the paper. The folder lit up, filling the night with yellow flames and the ashes of the several documents gone with the wind.

When the paper fully dissolved, she closed her fist and the last remaining flame vanished.

As the mysterious stranger made his way over the rooftops of the city, she turned in the opposite direction. Her first instinct was to follow, but there was no fun in chasing him just yet. She wanted to play some before she did that and wanted him to know more about her before she completely destroyed and corrupted him. His beautiful soul would only remain a faint memory.

The doors into the old, abandoned church swung open. The benches were occupied with exactly five people, two of them Eli and Talon, and the rest of what she liked to call her family, but historians would have called them a coven. An assembled group of vampires qualified as such, as did more than one witch sharing the same ideologies and sharing the same living space. That’s what the two species have in common - they are both widely hated by all kinds of religions except for Satanity.

Six vampires living in a church sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, but the place had been abandoned years ago and there was no official owner, so it was run-down and, most importantly, they didn’t require an invitation to enter. So they made their home there, choosing Hell’s Kitchen as their turf and claiming it as their territory. That had been years ago and the small chapel grew significantly to feel like home since then.

“Cold-blooded murder,” she recited as she walked down the aisle, “Blood baths, two injection sites on the neck, suspicious behavior making humans thirsty for blood, and the police declared it a fucking drug epidemic!” she said. “What century are we living in, people? Is this the seventeenth or the eighteenth? Have we traveled back in time so that these words can be used in the same sentence again, right here in New York? What bad dream am I having right now, because it surely can’t be real?”

She reached the pedestal, stepping up in front of the altar.

“Seriously, what is happening?” she asked.

They all stared at her with wide, confused eyes. Those weren’t the faces of people who were about to cause a supernatural war of the undead. They were pretty much caught off guard by her accusations and that gave her hope, considering she knew them pretty well by now to know their tells when they were lying.

“Please tell me that it’s not one of you currently going on a rampage in Hell’s Kitchen, turning innocent teenagers into ruthless, blood-thirsty vampires, and breaking every rule that was set for us when it comes to hunting humans. Tell me none of you is going on a fucking murder spree!”

Her voice boomed off the high stone walls, almost cracking the colorful windows that adorned the church, pictures displaying passages of the bible and glowing bright red under the moonlight while others shone in blue and green. Though that night, red was truly prominent, and it fell right on her pale face, making everything appear dangerously dark about her.

One of the younger men raised his hand.

“William,” she called.

He stood up, clearing his throat, his hands tangled together in front of his body. He was the shy one, the one she had to pick up because he was starving himself due to his fear of what he had become after he was brutally turned by a woman he thought he could trust. It had been a very dark time back then, early twentieth century, and vampires in the States were still on the loose without a care in the world. There were no rules, only bloodshed, and the covens had body counts higher than the entire population.

“None of us is going on a murder spree,” he said.

“Are you saying that just because I want to hear you say it or do you actually mean what you just said?”

“I, um… you know what, I’m just gonna sit back down.”

“Wise choice.” She nodded. “So, William’s not a killer. What about the rest of you? Anyone trying to start a rebellion?”

Eli shrugged. His answer was obvious, “It’s not me.”

“I figured. You let your dinner stay for breakfast, and you know, you prefer blood whores. Gives you a sense of superiority, which of course, is not how this works. But anyway…”

The group burst out in laughter and Eli glared at her from across the room. “Very mature,” he said.

“I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine,” she said. “Now, anyone else wanna share?”

Another hand rose in the air. “I’m honestly just knitting,” the woman said. As a demonstration, she lifted the half-finished scarf - they didn’t even wear scarves - and threw the ball of wool in the air. “I tried my hand at a very complicated cardigan, but that project failed, so I’m just going back to my roots.”

“Thank you, Helen, but I never doubted you, not even for a second. You’re a total sweetheart.”

“It also wasn’t me,” Talon spoke up. “But you already knew that.”

“Yes, because you are too stupid to cause such mayhem,” she stated plainly. “That leaves only one…” she let her eyes roam over the pews until she found who she was looking for.

His head hung low. Was he… sleeping?

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Can someone please punch Adam in the face?”

Eli stabbed him with his finger. The man shot up, causing the bench to creak. “I’m awake!” he declared.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence,” she answered sourly. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

Adam looked around. All eyes were on him. He rubbed his very heavy eyes. “I zoned out after you said bloodbath.” At least his confession was honest.

She sighed. She was living with a bunch of idiots. She shouldn’t have suspected them. They weren’t capable of the monstrosities that she saw in the police file.

“Never mind,” she said in exasperation. “You’re all dismissed. Now please, fuck off. I need to be alone so I can fucking shoot myself.”

She wondered how they even managed to make it this far without getting caught.

“Talon.”

“Yes?” he replied.

“I need to get back out there. You’re in charge while I’m gone. Make sure that these idiots don’t kill themselves or each other.”

“Are you sure that is such a good idea? Going out there, I mean? We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” he said.

“No,” she stated after a slight moment of hesitation, “but I’m the only competent one in this house, so I have to step up.”

Her version of stepping up was simple. Scout the docks, stake out if necessary, and confront anything she deemed suspicious enough to risk getting caught. She hoped to run into one of the young vampires, at least, so she could make them answer her – the young ones were never bright, always controlled by hunger and the new intensity of their emotions. The anger was the most brutal one.

It’s like that even for humans – anger blinds, anger poisons, and anger can tear worlds apart and start new generations built on the same ideals. She witnessed anger and greed topple empires that had once been strong and flourished. There is no limit to what anger can make a person do. And vampires, like any other enhanced species, experience most emotions ten times deeper and worse than the ordinary human being.

She felt that effect even after years of being trapped in the same body, in the same state she was left in back then, and especially as she stood on the roof of the warehouse by the docks, overseeing the Hudson and the city that laid on the other side of the shore. She learned how to control and live with her anger. She learned how to survive. Though there were moments when even the highest form of self-control failed and she was stranded with the blade of a hot knife stuck in her sternum, digging further to tear apart her cold, dead heart.

The hunger was the worst part. It had the ability to cloud her mind completely and dictate her every behavior with the purpose to stave that hunger, which was a near-impossibility. There was no satisfying a hunger that had been there for centuries, that not even pints of blood could satisfy. In the years she lived, she learned how to live with it, but always going hungry was also no real way to live. It was awful, constant torture, and with every passing century, she grew more tired of the life she was forced to live.

In the distance, the wood creaked. One of the boats on the harbor displayed movements in its belly. The light only faintly fell on the source of the noise. A figure emerged behind the barrels stocked on the pier, heading straight for the oblivious fisherman who seemed to have stayed around to have a celebratory beer after bringing home quite a large catch of fish. She could smell them across the docks, already tied in bags to take home, but the victor was still inhabiting his boat. Humans have always been particularly obsessed with the art of fishing; it had once been their largest source of food income and fish is still pretty high up on the list of shippable goods. Though there was nothing worse to her nose than the smell of several fish perched together in one place. The stench was astronomical.

A young vampire was far more sensitive, though once hungry, there was nothing but blood on their minds and so none of them would run at the smallest hint of fish in the air, let alone the fear of getting caught. They didn’t have that kind of perception, not yet at least, because this particular behavior was taught. Primal nature dictated them to be monsters and without the proper training, the hunger would control them instead of them gaining control over the real monster – the insatiable thirst. Self-control is one of the hardest traits to gain, but it goes a long way, especially for creatures of the night who were born to be the opposite of compliant and self-aware.

If you want to live amongst an emancipated species, you have to learn how to conform to their rules and compromise, if necessary. You have to be willing to change your true nature to fit in and become something more than what history made of you. All of it comes back down to self-control. Without self-control, there can be no rules and without rules, society is doomed to collapse. Rules are what make a society habitable.

If there was one thing all young vampires had in common it was their lack of stealth. The young boy she had heard lurking behind the barrels across from the fisherman’s boat only checked the corner to his right, his eyes bright red as the moonlight fell on his blacked-out irises.

She cocked her head to the side. Someone trying to preserve themselves would have gone about this much differently. He stopped tip-toeing when he caught her scent in the air, slowly turning in her direction, and the way he looked straight at her reminded her of a frightened deer or a child caught in the act of stealing something. He was stealing, it just wasn’t something so easily explained. What he was stealing and risking went beyond what the human mind was capable of comprehending, let alone the brain of a young vampire that had absolutely no rational thoughts left behind.

He froze dead in his tracks and she sighed, almost like a condescending mother trying to teach her disobedient son a valuable lesson.

“I see what you’re doing,” she stated.

The boy licked his lips, revealing parts of his very sharp fangs. Another thing about the young ones – they didn’t know how to mask. One look at them and your first thought would be a vampire. Red eyes, protruding veins around the sockets, pale, clammy skin, and strength and speed they couldn’t control yet. Stealth was little to non existent, as was their sense of self-preservation and control. They were like unruly babies turning into toddlers overnight, the Devil on their shoulders whispering sweet sins into their ears and causing them to make the worst decisions. Right or wrong didn’t exist in their world. They knew what they wanted and they would try everything to get it, rules be damned.

Even though they all started out like this, not many chose to stay that way anymore. Once you learn how to live by the rules, it’s not that hard, and she grew to love the routine.

Without someone to teach them, young vampires could turn into everyone’s worst nightmare, and then everything she had worked so hard toward for centuries would have been for nothing.

“Fair warning,” she said, “Don’t.”

He bared his teeth.

“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots. Not. What’s your name, kid?”

He looked no day over seventeen, at best. His mother was probably worried sick. Little did she know that her worst fear, her son dying, had come true but in a far worse sense than she could ever imagine. Who he was now had nothing to do with the boy he used to be. The young vampire staring back into her eyes dark and empty had nothing left inside of him but insatiable hunger. His soul was clouded by the demon inside of him and chances were that it would never fully recover from the monstrosities he committed and would still commit.

She couldn’t stop him, she knew that. If she took him with her, whoever was responsible for the sudden spike in bloodless corpses would only create more of him, and take more teenagers from their parents until they got what they wanted. She needed to know what that was so she could stop the war that was looming on the horizon. She couldn’t have an apocalypse, not when her life was going semi-normal for a change. She quite liked New York, she wasn’t done yet.

“Who did this to you?” she asked again.

“Leave,” he growled.

“You see, I can’t do that. I want to, believe me, but I can’t. You’re too young, too inexperienced, so I’m trying to tell you this as easy as possible. What you’re doing right now is breaking all sorts of rules. You’re hunting on our turf,” she said. “My turf. My coven and I live here now. If you continue causing mayhem and destruction and turning innocent people into vampires, you’re breaking a truce that is far older than you, your parents, and great-great grandparents together. There is a set of rules for a reason…”

“You need to leave,” the boy repeated.

She ignored him. “This truce,” she continued, “was put in place over a century ago to assure that vampires and humans can live together in peace. Covens are not supposed to turn innocent people into vampires, let alone leave them without someone to teach them the ropes. A vampire out of control poses a danger to all species and if you continue what you’re doing, your actions will lead to war.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or perhaps that’s what you want. Is that it? Do you want us to be at war again?”

He smirked.

“You weren’t there the last time. It was ugly. That’s why there are rules, right?” She motioned as if explaining the way the world worked to a toddler. “To prevent such unnecessary bloodshed from happening again. To prevent us from killing each other,” she explained. “That’s what those rules are for, okay? Prevention, not causation. You’re supposed to stick to the rules to prevent a war that would destroy more than it would fix, and world domination doesn’t happen just because you say ‘fuck it!’ And shine a dangerous light on all vampires in the process. We’re not all alike. Every coven knows that,” she said. “Whoever made you is only using you to get ahead. In other words, you’re fucked and doomed to get slaughtered in the end. Either by your own kind, a war, or maybe even one of the very ancient vampire hunters that are only waiting for a chance to get back at us.”

Talking to him was futile. He didn’t follow a word she said and even if he had, he wouldn’t have understood. Young vampires were so stupid, naïve, useless and a nuisance. To think they all started out this way grossed her out, even though she made saving the lost causes of the world her life’s work.

Her logic was twisted and more often than not illogical, but she was wise and considered herself above average in intelligence, simply because she had been around for quite a while. She saw empires rise and fall. She stared into the darkest pits of existence and still managed to come back from the abyss. Her life had been a series of doors in her face, which led to several life lessons being taught over the course of centuries. She was no angel, but she wasn’t stupid and she had one job: make sure the truce would remain intact. And she would do just that, even if she had to eliminate that young boy in order to do so.

He didn’t say anything for quite a while. “Get out of my way,” he growled. Of course, he would settle on something as dramatically pathetic as this catchphrase. “I’m starving and I won’t hesitate to hurt you if you keep me from my meal.”

“Ouch,” she cocked an eyebrow, “You really bruise my ego, thinking you can get through me without getting hurt yourself. I’d suggest you think about your actions,” she said, “but I know that I’m practically talking to a wall right now, so thinking isn’t an option. You’re incapable of rational thought.”

Fear was the last thing that came to her mind when he showed off his teeth again.

“Listen, I just want to know who’s behind this. Who’s leading your coven, kid?”

“Fuck you!” he spat.

“Hey now, no need to get vulgar. I asked you a normal question. Who’s behind this and is there a chance I might get to have a conversation with the one in charge? Tell me and I will gladly point you in the direction of a different hunting ground,” she said.

The boy nodded toward the boat. “I want that one. He’s mine. Don’t even try to stop me.”

“Yeah, but you can’t have him.”

“I’m going to have him.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Stop disagreeing with everything I’m saying!”

She shrugged. “Can’t help that you’re wrong all the time. I’ve never learned how to shut up. It’s genetic; centuries of untreated trauma are at fault here, and of course, your general wrongness plays a big part in my need to disagree with your embarrassing hypotheticals.”

“Go to hell!”

“Already did. You know, of course, pride always goes before the fall. Such a human trait to have; multiply it by a thousand, where does that leave you? Certainly not more sophisticated than me, someone with hundreds of years of experience. You need to be careful, young vampires like you are at an even higher risk to be discovered and murdered before you even get the chance to learn what you were given with this transition.”

Finally, he launched at her. She sped away, gone in a matter of a second, and appeared a few feet behind him, heaving a heavy sigh. “You kids are all the same,” she declared, looking into his very distraught eyes. He couldn’t believe she had switched that fast. “Fast but reckless and extremely easy to trick.”

A moment later, he stood in her spot and she was gone again, crossing her arms behind her back.

“You done?” she asked. His attempts to attack her only made her laugh, “Oh, so terrifying.”

She had him right where she wanted him, so agitated that he spiraled out of control, no longer aware of where he was going or what he was doing. She watched him dance for a bit. By now, he surely must have realized he wasn’t going to win. But the pride was stronger and he kept going, trying to get to her in all kinds of ways, though never succeeding.

“I feel bad for you. What would your mother say if she saw you like this?”

He stopped. His left eye twitched. She saw the wheels on his head turning and she thought, finally, I got him.

What did she say? Pride goes before the fall.

She caught the billy club that soared through the air in their direction only a few inches from the boy’s face. Her lips pursed and she stared at the red object, feeling the heavy metal between her fingers and the small ripples in the material.

When she turned her attention back to the target, the boy was gone. He had sped away, using the moment of distraction to run. She couldn’t sense him anywhere; he must have escaped the docks completely, not even staying close to the Hudson. He was on his way home. The fisherman was safe and she had diverted quite the disaster, but she still deemed the interruption rude, including the attempt to impale that poor boy with the billy club. She had thought about it, but she would have never gone through with it. Whoever the weapon belonged to had to have been close by.

Her night just kept getting better and better. That was her assessment, at least, until she heard his heartbeat again. The scent of him brushed the hairs in her nose and she took a whiff, feeling his presence so close in the air, she stopped to let the sensation wash over her. The fire inside of her belly ignited once again, the excitement tickling her cold skin and leaving nothing but lust and hunger to rummage through her veins.

Footsteps thudded against the asphalt, stones crunching under his weight. They were slightly wet from the previous rain, causing a slight slip.

She lowered her hand with the billy club, turning to look over her shoulder at the supposed blind man in a suit. She had seen that get-up before in the papers when he first showed his masked face in Hell’s Kitchen. She never thought much of it since he had never posed a problem before.

The tables had officially turned.

Her lips parted to chuckle. “This is awkward,” she said. In the distance, the waves of the Hudson crashed into the riverbanks. It was colder than usual with a breeze in her hair that caused the water to go wild.

She fiddled with the red billy club, smirking, “Does this belong to you?”

“Who are you?” his voice sounded significantly lower than the night she first met him at that godforsaken gala.

To think she didn’t want to go in the first place; she would have never met him if she hadn’t let Talon convince her that she was supposed to show her face. A political move, he called it, to assert her dominance, which she did, but not in the areas that mattered.

“What are you doing in my city?”

She pouted. “So many questions.”

“Who was that boy you were just talking to? Where did he go?”

“What happened to hello, how are you? What’s your name?” She retorted. “Take a girl out for a drink first, would you? Back then men used to still be gentlemen.”

His chuckle was rather dark, a sound that made her shiver and imagine what it would sound like to reduce him to whimpers instead. The man was a brat, no doubt, not easy to force into submission, but she had cracked worse nuts. Surrendering wasn’t her forte, but she could make it everyone else’s.

“I’m not here to play games,” he told her.

“But I am,” she said.

“What do you want?”

“As far as I can recall, I made that pretty clear when we first met.”

“When we- I don’t know you,” he lied and she realized how bad he was at it for a lawyer.

She licked her lips, the fangs threatening to come out. She was starving. “I quite like an oblivious man. Makes things so much more exciting.”

“Listen, I don’t have time for small talk. There have been several suspicious murders around this part of New York and you’re currently my only connection, so you better talk before I make you.”

“Just out of curiosity,” she said, “what does making me entail?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

He headed straight ahead, determined to grab her, and she watched with an amused crinkle in her eyes. The downward tilt of his lips was truly something to laugh over.

She allowed him to push her against the wall behind them. His force was surprising – those arms didn’t just look scrumptious, they actually carried a lot of strength for a human.

The stranger bared his teeth and she smirked, eyeing his focused expression. He tried to look intimidating but failed miserably. One of his hands braced against the cement beside her head and the other landed around her neck, a threatening motion to assert dominance. They were all so predictable and foolish enough to think that a woman like her couldn’t fight back.

Everywhere she went, she was underestimated. If only everyone knew her true nature, they wouldn’t be so reckless as to push her into corners over and over again. Or in this case, against cement walls on the docks in the middle of the night, right in the middle of her hunting ground with not another human soul close enough to hear him scream. And water is knowingly a great way to dispose of a dead body.

He squeezed tighter and she unclenched her jaw, wriggling out of his grasp in the process. “You’re a kinky bastard, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Answer my question,” he bit back.

“If you answer mine first.”

“This isn’t a game. Lives are at stake here! Listen, I don’t know who you are or what you are,” he said, “but if I find out that you had anything to do with these innocent kids getting slaughtered or know something about this new drug everyone is talking about, I will find you and I will destroy you.”

“You know, if it weren’t for the way you smell, I wouldn’t have recognized you, all confident in your little devil’s costume,” she purred.

Her finger slid up the leather of his suit, brushing over his tensing abs hiding behind the protective gear and she sucked in a sharp breath at the illusion she received.

“All of this tension and I still don’t know your name.”

He caught her hand and pinned it over her head. She squealed. He was full of surprises, and it only turned her on more. She wanted to bite him, really bite him, and suck on his pulse until he was crying her name and praying for God to save him, but the pleasure would only drive him further to hell and God wouldn’t be coming. She wanted him to writhe under her touch, taste him and make him come undone over and over again and once he believed she was done with him, she would start her torture anew, right from the beginning, pushing him from the precipice just far enough so she could catch him, bring him back to the top and then do the same thing in repetition all over again.

He roamed her face aimlessly, as it seemed, but barely visible behind the mask. “How?” he growled.

“Wouldn’t you want to know?” She chuckled. “It’s unfortunate that we had to meet again like this, but…” In an instant, she had them flipped around, her arms pinning him to the wall instead of herself and her strength remained unmatched. He could struggle, it was of no use. She had the upper hand.

Her breath tickled his ear as she spoke, far too close for comfort, “You smell absolutely divine. It’d be a shame to waste all that sweet, sweet blood for a second time,” she said.

He couldn’t move. Sharp nails raked through his hair and over his scalp, tugging his head to the side until his throat was completely bare to her, naked, exposed. His aorta pulsated wildly under his skin. She could see it bulge with every beat of his heart. That strong, masculine heart, stronger than anything she had heard or felt before.

She tasted the sweat on his skin and the salt of threatening tears in the air. If he was turned on or scared, she wasn’t sure. The lines between fear, pain, and pleasure blurred. It was all the same to her, anyway. Getting close to her would most certainly draw everyone under her spell at some point, no matter the sex or gender, and all the heads would continue turning to her whenever her presence entered a room full of lively human beings. Only then her pheromones could work their wonders.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen struggled against her grasp but to no avail. He was powerless, just how she liked him, how she wanted and craved him.

She licked a long stripe over his pulse point. “I want to taste you so badly,” she whispered. “I want nothing more than to dig my teeth into your pretty little throat and suck you dry, and then I want to get on my knees and eat your cum so I can feel it mix with the essence of what your heart has to give, and then you’d be mine. I’d own you. You’d be completely at my mercy, you’d be bound to me and it would feel so fucking good. It would feel so fucking good for the both of us.”

Her fangs began to scratch the surface, enough to make him feel it but not nearly enough to break the skin. She tasted the salt of his sweat even clearer now, wondering how much deeper she had to go to finally reach the source of the sweetness that surrounded him.

“Don’t you want that?” Her hand joined the words slipping from her silver tongue and wrapping around him like a poisonous snake. “Don’t you want to let me corrupt you, to bite you, to eat you until all you can feel is the pure pleasure of having me all over you? My lips, my tongue, my teeth, my body on yours everywhere, all the fucking time… oh, that would be such an orgasmic sight, and the pleasure you’d be feeling, I can’t even describe it. You won’t know until you at least try and believe me, you should. Isn’t that something you want, darling? Doesn’t your body crave to be caressed and receive undivided attention from someone who knows how to make you feel good?”

He sounded small, fragile, and utterly broken when he next spoke, and she hadn’t even started yet. “What are you doing to me?” he asked. The heat of his breath mixed with the cold night air. “What are you?”

She chuckled. “The better question is, what am I not?” The tip of her tongue moved from his neck to his cheek until she reached the corner of his luscious lips. Her nose dug into his cheekbone. “Fuck,” she said. “The things I want to do to you are far from innocent.”

But so fucking good.

Even with fear holding the reins to his body, he melted into her touch. He turned into a puddle of melted chocolate right at her feet. She could have asked anything of him, he would have done so just for the sake of pleasing her. But she wanted him to do it voluntarily not because the smell of her pheromones managed to drive any man into a state of co-dependency.

She wanted him to want her for the sake of wanting her. Like this, she would only compel him to do things he would never choose to do out of his own free will, and while the thought of having him right there on the docks was exciting and had her cunt squeezing around thin air, already wet and wanting, the only treacherous thing about her that was entirely defenseless and could be forced into submission with just a simple flick of the tongue over plump, rosy lips. He had her on the cloud of dangerous euphoria in seconds, already stumbling on the edge and about ready to slip, lose herself, and lose control only to have him, finally, in all the ways she pleased and all the ways that would make him feel good.

She could give him anything he had ever wanted, give him a time that not a single human could give him, and make him come undone inside and outside so many times, he would pass out from the pure pleasure. But he wouldn’t regret it. He would go out this as the winner, fucked out and blissful and perhaps a little addicted to the taste of her as well – she was sure she would be addicted to him as well. She almost already was, just from the scent of his blood and the way his body shivered at the slightest touch. He was so responsive, so human, yet stronger and more unique than anyone else could ever be. He was the one thing she wanted and she was ready to take it as soon as he wanted it, too.

She was used to taking what she wanted however she wanted and screwing the consequences, quite literally, but not with him. With him, the need bubbling up deep inside of her belly was different. It wasn’t just a hunger for blood or a hunger for sex and pleasurable violence, he caused much more than that within her already conflicted soul, and as enticing as that was, the connection confused her. There was a reason she didn’t let anyone close, using sex as a mere pastime activity to get the edge off – she couldn’t toy with him because chances were she would reduce his survival chances to zero.

Allowing a human like him close would only cause pain in the long run, and she’d been through enough of that for several lifetimes. And that wasn’t even an overstatement.

Her lips brushed over his momentarily before she forced herself to pull away, widening the distance between them.

The poor man slumped against the wall, his world rotating. He took it much better than most people, but the sweet taste of his fear in the air reminded her that he was just human, after all. A curious, enticing, and mysterious human, but a human being nonetheless.

Humans serve only one purpose for vampires like animals serve a purpose to humans – predators hunt their victims to feast, sustain themselves and survive. Humans are essentially animals and vampires used to be humans turned into hunters, predators, and dangerous perverts who craved blood to survive while at the same time using it for twisted, sexual purposes that had God locking the gates of heaven to anyone who even dared to fantasize about it. There is no ancestor ready to turn around in their grave because vampires were born from lust and hunger, and the first vampires had been carnal creatures as well, ready to go at it like animals without a single brain cell at their disposal.

Vampires weren’t like that anymore. Sex still played a huge role in their existence, but their main purpose was to fit in. They wanted a peaceful life. Taking everything they wanted was no longer possible, their chances were limited, but at least they didn’t have to fear imminent death anymore. Not ever since the truce was first established, anyway.

If those young vampires continued killing and turning innocent children without mercy, and their coven even supported their decisions, the peace would have been short-lived. She could already see it swindling with every passing second, though fear was not something she wanted to concern herself with, not yet. Her life had more important things to offer before she rang the warning bells on all the vampires she knew, therefore causing a certain commotion that would send the gravestones rolling. Not yet, she decided, but if they kept going at this rate, certainly very soon.

“Go,” she growled into the night. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from the Hudson until further notice. You can never know what blood-thirsty and murderous monsters might lurk in the dark around here,” she said.

He didn’t move.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” he said, his voice remaining steady.

She frowned. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, you don’t scare me. Manipulate me all you want, this isn’t the first time an otherwise scary woman fails to put me under her spell. But,” he smirked, “don’t take it personally. I’m sure you look pretty scary.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed, her eyes switching from their natural color to a glossy black. “You have no idea who you’re talking to, do you?”

The red nails adorning her fingers grew sharper and in size. If only he could have regained his eyesight, he surely would have changed his mind. Her skin turned even whiter, the bags under her eyes sinking deep into her skull, replaced instead by thick, purple veins that transported the venom from the core of her existence into them. She was chaos, an abomination, humanity’s biggest threat – not scary was a description she wouldn’t accept.

No matter how blind he was, he had to follow the natural order of things like everyone else. He was supposed to be afraid of her. If he couldn’t find it in himself to show her, all of her games would inevitably lose their fun factor. And her ego would suffer the most.

Open an ancient book about demons and a picture like that might stare back at you.

“It takes a lot more than dark magic to scare the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” he told her.

It was cute. Remarkable, really. She laughed at his attempt to make himself feel better, and partly because she was starting to grow upset with him.

“Somehow, being infuriated with you only makes you so much more attractive to me,” she said.

“You still don’t scare me.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Five seconds. The heartbeat of the fisherman rang loudly in her ear. She was starving, her last meal far too long in the past. He wriggled in her grasp, crying, begging for her to let him go, to have mercy on him and, “Oh, God, your face- what happened to your face? Are those- are those fangs? Please, I have a family!”

Her laugh reverberated in her chest. The man stiffened when she tore at his hair to position his head sideways, his neck in perfect reach for her mouth. She looked at the man in the suit before her, his jaw clenched, and he had his billy clubs at the ready. They weren't going to hurt her, he knew that. She would catch them with ease. He could only stand by and pretend he wasn’t scared even though he had never been more in sync with the feeling. They were a package deal when it came to her.

“Don’t worry,” she told the poor fisherman, “You’ll see your family again, and you won’t even have to remember a thing.”

Her mouth opened.

“Don’t,” Daredevil threatened – yes, it was a threat, not even a warning – from the other side of her, and she saw the conflict dance clearly over the revealed lower part of his face. “You don’t have to hurt him,” he said. “The man’s innocent.”

She shrugged. “I know.”

“He has a family.”

“I know. My ears are quite impeccable, can you believe that?”

“How about you think this through before you act? There’s a lot of ways you can go about spiting me, but pulling an innocent bystander into this is not fair. Come on, you said you wanted me, so take me.”

As lucrative as that sounded, she had a different plan.

She hummed, “No.”

“Why? Are you scared? Perhaps you’re not such a bad person after all. Is that it? You want me to be afraid of you, so you’re trying to hurt that man until I cave? Well, I won’t, but I’m offering myself to you instead of him, so don’t try so hard. Just take me. Take your shot.”

Oh, he sounded so amused – time to wipe that smirk off his beautiful face.

“Ancient advice,” she ignored everything else he had said, “Don’t be a martyr,” she said and her lips rained down on the fisherman’s throat in a fiery passion. “History hates martyrs.”

“No, history only consists of martyrs.”

“The official version. The truth lies much deeper than your little human brain could ever explore.”

Daredevil was right about one thing; the man was innocent. No matter how she turned it, there was nothing wrong with him, so death would have been unnecessary punishment.

She wasn’t going to kill him just to spite the man she craved to actually have a taste of. She was just going to take a sip, still a quarter of her hunger and then move on, heal the man’s wounds and make him forget this ever happened. He would be disoriented, but he would be fine.

Humans are the most susceptible to manipulation.

“Don’t be afraid,” she told the fisherman, “I’m just going to have a little taste of the forbidden fruit.”

Her teeth dug into his aorta and she sucked, tasting the blood that squirted into her mouth and all over her face in thick stripes. He tasted nothing like the feast standing right across from her, but it didn’t matter. Her mind shut off. The hunger moved to the forefront and at that moment, everything else stopped existing. It was just her and the life of this particular human in her hands, the taste of his blood exploding on her tongue and her stomach churning with the endless hunger that only got fueled with the small taste. She wanted more, needed it, but she knew better than to let the desperation overpower her.

Passed out and short of a few pints of blood, the fisherman fell to the ground. She licked her lips. He was everywhere, even stuck on her clothes and traces of him had gotten tangled in her hair. He was a bleeder, that much was sure, and if she hadn’t licked over his neck to seal the wound, he surely would have bled out.

Poor thing, but sentiment was useless in a case like this. He would make it. No use crying over a blood bag, she was taught. Humans lived to feed them. It was their purpose and she had no reason to feel bad for wanting to be full for a change, not go to bed hungry because she wouldn’t dare touch someone that wasn’t already in a plastic bag. She deserved this.

And Daredevil cowered in fear at the sounds he was met with. Her night had turned from a total shit show into the sight of victory.

She stepped forward and he flinched away, finally. “You wanted to know what I am. This is it!” she declared. “I’m the monster parents warn their children about and I’m the one thing every church fears because I happen to stand against everything religion stands for.”

“Dear God,” he breathed out.

“God can’t help me now,” she said. Her eyes moved to the sky, watching the stars disappear behind a thick cloud of smog and thousands of lights from the city center. “He stopped doing that the second I died. He’s dead to me now. He cannot be found. There is no God, there is only hunger and I’m probably the most merciful of them all, so I’d run if I were you. I’d run before another one of those demons God gave up on saving, jumps out of the dark and decides to suck the life from your pretty little body. I’d run,” she said, “because there is not a millisecond that goes by in which I do not want to tear your neck open and drink your blood while I also desperately want to suck your dick between my lips and do the same to those veins too, and the longer you stay the more my self-control starts to fade into the thin smoke that comes out of your mouth whenever you speak.”

He shivered and the color faded from his skin, blood pooling in his veins at twice the amount and the smell almost knocked her off her already hazy feet from the first course.

More, her body screamed, but she held back. She learned how to hold back. No one had to die tonight.

“Run now or I’m cutting this short, and then Hell’s Kitchen will no longer have a Daredevil to protect them from the likes of me. They won’t even get the chance to mourn because it’d be impossible for me to drop your body in the Hudson after getting a taste of your blood.”

He turned around, finally getting the hint to run. He jumped the wall up to the rooftop too gracefully for a blind man. She watched, her bloody lips moving into a smile.

“Fear is healthy,” he heard her loud and clear. “Don’t let your pride cloud that healthy feeling from manifesting. And find me,” she said, “when you’re ready to talk without underestimating me.”

By the time she looked back up, Daredevil was gone with the wind, but his scent still lingered long after he had left and she would take it to bed with her where the most unholy of things would happen to the sound of a name she didn’t even know.

She should have fucked him when she had the chance.

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pastafossa · 2 years ago

Text

The Red Thread: Chapter 130

If you’re looking for the non-smutty bits to read, there’s a note on the beginning of this chapter about where to jump down to! Next week we’ll be back to plotty goodness so hang in there!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

"I’ve marked the back of you.” You reached around and ran your fingers down his calf. You spared a brief moment of fondness for the scar you found, tracing the raised line of scar tissue—formed by a wound you’d once helped stitch shut—before you finally dipped to brush your mouth against the curved bones of his ankle. It wasn’t what he expected, and his legs spasmed a little until you caught them both in your hands and pressed them down, your voice dangerously soft, a burning green fire growing in your soul as you breathed out your hunger against his skin. “But the front… the front is mine, too.

Wordcount: 3,973

Warnings for this chapter: same as last chapter, basically. Sub!Matt, Dom!Jane/reader, bondage, oral (f!receiving and matt's milking that for all he's got), biting, possessive!reader, praise kink, a snatch of thread/psychic sex, hint of edging, scent marking, dirty talk, and sex, tada.

Read me on AO3 because that’s where penguins hang out

#the red thread #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x f!reader #reader #reader fic #x reader #not sfw #fic #fanfic #sub!matt murdock #dom!reader #basically a whole barrel of sin in these two chapters #but with a plotty little bit at the end of this one #there was honestly gonna be some more but i ran out of time so #OFF YE GET no pun intended

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123passwort · 1 year ago

Note

hii I was the one who asked about your thoughts on desperate subby matt and could you maybe please make a fic about it 👉👈

hi nonnie!

I apologize that this took so long to get to you, but I hope you enjoy!

warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni) word count: 2.3k

siren.

Every single atom in Matt’s body seemed to be blazing with fire, as if the very flames from Hell had breached the Earth’s surface to lick and nip at his overly sensitive skin. A tremor cascaded through every stitch of nerve endings in his body, and even the faintest gust of warmth from your breath felt like being shocked by a live wire.

You hadn’t even given him a moment to recover from his second orgasm before sending him hurtling towards his third.

The second he stepped through the door, you seemed to be able to tell what he needed. You always knew, usually before he did. Whether it was because he ignored his own body and soul’s pleads for care, the absence of space in his brain for anything not related to saving his city, or your own secret set of heightened senses that seemed to be tuned specifically to him; you understood him on a level that not even his own creator could.

As you dragged your soaked pussy along Matt’s half hardened cock, a strangled moan flew past his lips. He could taste the sweet tang of your arousal in the air when it coated his entire length, faintly mixed with the flavor of his own salty release he had just emptied into your welcoming mouth. The palm of your hand that dragged slowly down his chest was still lightly coated with sticky remnants from when you had worked him over with your hand down his pants on the couch.

Like a siren, you had lured him in with your captivating voice, coaxing him to join you on the couch with a few enchanted words the second he stepped through the front door. Your lips had pressed gentle kisses to his temple while your nails lightly scratched at his scalp, slowly infusing an antidote into his system to force out the toxic pent up stress and tension out of his body. Matt had found himself in such a state of relaxation, he hadn’t even noticed that you had managed to remove the barrier of his belt to slip your hand into his trousers. By the time he realized he had been enraptured, you were already sinking him beneath the wreckage of bliss.

In his initial post orgasm haze, Matt obediently followed you into the bedroom on wobbly legs, succumbing easily to the shift in the dynamic of power. Sometimes he struggled to let go of that control, even when he really wanted to, but you had quickly figured out how to break through the barrier of his own subconscious, bewitching the Devil into submission so that you could grant Matt the absolution he desperately sought night after night.

Despite the legato rhythm at which you had conducted his first orgasm, Matt came quickly, producing a fountain of ivory cream spurts that coated your palm. He would’ve been embarrassed if he hadn’t been reeling with pure elation. But you were determined to force his body and mind to slow down, to enjoy every single second of the waves of pleasure that were awaiting him at the shore.

Matt nearly jolted off the mattress when your warm mouth enveloped him. In a matter of minutes, you rendered him a whimpering and desperate shell of his usual confident and dominant stature. Every time you felt the telltale twitch of his cock against your tongue, you released him from your mouth, and Matt begged you more than he had ever begged his God for anything. A part of you felt guilty, especially seeing the shine collecting in the corners of his eyes from your delicate assault on his senses, but you reminded yourself that he needed this. It was the only way to guide him out of the tumultuous labyrinth of his own mind to a sanctuary of peace that he desperately craved.

Every time he thought he was about to ride the tide of gratification, your tortuous calamity left him shipwrecked in the midst of the mattress, clawing through silk and needy prayers of your name for mercy. The hands he used to bring righteousness to the wicked gripped at your hair and the back of your neck in desolation, trying helplessly to guide you like an oar towards the edge of the Earth he wanted to free fall from. But each time he did so, a noise of disapproval would hum in your throat, followed by a chastising verse of his name, and he would cry out in despair as he surrendered to you all over again.

Your one rule was that he wasn’t allowed to think. There were no choices to be made except the ones you made for him. There was no control to grasp onto, only to relinquish. The only thing you demanded of him was to give into you completely.

When you finally allowed him to come, Matt nearly sobbed in gratitude. His cock ached as he spilled every seed he had to offer down your throat, but before he could catch his breath, you had already ascended his body and begun to get him ready again.

“I…I c-can’t-“

“Yes you can, Matthew. You’re my good boy, aren’t you?”

Matt let out a broken whimper at those words, fingers digging so hard into the flesh of your hips, you were surprised his blunt nails hadn’t broken the skin. While you continued to drag your soaked pussy along his hardening cock, your hand reached forward to delicately wrap your fingers around his throat, and when you applied the slightest bit of pressure, Matt gasped loudly.

“Come on, baby. Tell me what you are.”

Despite the overwhelming heat that slicked his sensitive skin in a heavy layer of sweat, Matt shivered at the sultry tone of your voice burrowing in his ears. Gritting his teeth, he let out another choked whimper when the overly sensitive head of his cock snagged against your entrance.

“Good boy.”

Matt’s voice was so breathless, you almost didn’t hear him. But the movement of his plush lips was clear, and brought a proud smile to your mouth.

“A very good boy. Just give me one more, baby. Can you do that for me? Please?”

How could he say no? You were his angel, granting him the forgiveness and sanctuary he couldn’t find in anything else. How could he deny you when you made him feel this good? He could take another. He had broken his body and fractured his own soul time and time again, and had managed to drag himself to resolution until his fingers bled.

And he did all of that alone.

But now he had you, and you would never push him past the limits he drove himself over. You wouldn’t leave him behind in the debris to search for his own missing pieces. Even if you tore him apart, you always put him back together.

Matt trusted you.

Giving a nonverbal nod of consent, Matt’s jaw nearly became unhinged and fell open the moment your tight heat ensnared his throbbing cock. Arching his back off the mattress slightly, Matt lifted his sightless eyes up towards the Heavens, a string of curses and prayers leaving his lips in unison.

“Oh God…please…”

Your fingers instantly coiled tighter around his throat, and the brimstone laced in the warning of your tone had him squeezing your waist tightly as he shuddered.

“No. None of that. You wanna pray to someone, pray to me.”

Matt whimpered loudly as your walls clenched around his weeping cock, nearly cutting off his blood flow, and his thighs tensed from the tedious and languid figure eights you were drawing with your hips.

“I…I-fuck…ungh…”

“Use your words, Matthew. You’re a smart boy, aren’t you?”

Riding Matt was one of your favorite ways to fuck him. He looked so fucking beautiful below you; brows scrunched together and eyes screwed shut, features twisted up in absolute euphoria, jaw completely slack, lips puffy and rouge from the attack of your own. You wished you could take a picture with your eyes and frame this sight above the bed so that you could stare at it all goddamn day.

Bending over his body slightly, you used your other hand to lightly trace his bottom lip with your thumb, smiling at the way he lifted his head slightly to follow your movements with his mouth.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Matthew. My pretty, good boy. You make me so proud, you know that? So proud.”

Grinding your hips down to emphasize your words, you both let out a guttural moan as his cock nudged that spot inside you only he could ever reach. Matt panted heavily beneath you, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. Even in the haze of your own pleasure, you tried to keep his senses in mind, knowing he was already past the brink of overstimulation at this point.

But there was a searing sense of pleasure in the pain you inflicted upon him.

“You need to come, don’t you?”

Matt cried out in affirmation, and you cooed noticing the streams of salt leaking down his cheeks. Prying his hands away from your waist, you interlocked your fingers with his and held his hands down against the mattress, pinning them over his head. You squeezed them tightly while oscillating your hips at a quicker pace.

“It’s okay, baby. You’ve been so good for me. I’m so proud of you. I want you to let go for me, Matthew. Let it all go and give it to me. Be a good boy and give it all to me.”

The enticing spell of your words surged the crest of his rapture to its peak, and with your permission to tear the chains off the gates of Heaven, Matt burst through in a frenzy. His thighs shook violently and his entire body convulsed as if he were possessed and your cunt was the source of his exorcism. As he purged his sins in wave after wave at your altar, you baptized him in your own gratification, cleansing him in the forgiveness and love he couldn’t grant himself.

Matt’s hands trembled in yours, reciting your name in prayer over and over like it was the only thing his brain could process as he nearly blacked out from the intensity of his third and final release.

Somewhere far away in the edges of his mind, he could hear your voice gently luring him back to the plane his soul had astroprojected from. His entire body was tingling with static, as if someone were shoving a thousand needles into his sensitive skin. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, and the heat in the room felt suffocating, the sweat lingering on his chest like a layer of cement.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally gained a sliver of control over his senses again. Seconds? Minutes? Days? He couldn’t tell. All he could hear was the rapid knocking of your heart against your ribcage, just as swift as his own. He could feel your presence at his side, fingers twitching to reach for him but giving him his space to breathe, eyes fixed on his face in pure concern for his well being.

Swallowing thickly, Matt sucked in a heavy breath to fill the expanse of his empty lungs, reaching a shaky hand out that you eagerly accepted. Turning his head in your direction, he shuddered at the cool touch of your palm against his cheek, nuzzling into it when your thumb brushed along the blazing skin of his cheekbone. One of the things Matt loved about you was that your body was always significantly degrees cooler than his own. Where he provided the comfort of warmth, you provided the relief of coolness. He thought it was poetic how well you balanced each other out.

He heard the way your lips parted and shut several times, trying to decide if you should interrupt the silence or not, and a lazy smile attempted to tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m okay.”

Matt’s voice was hoarse and scratchy from the volume you had torn from his chest over the past few hours, and it sent a slight shiver down your spine. He could feel your uncertainty, and half heartedly tugged at your wrist with all the strength he had left in his body. You followed his guide and pulled his head against your chest, carding your fingers through his hair as he let out a deep exhale of relief to be in the safe haven of your embrace.

“Did I push you too far?”

“No. You were perfect.”

“Are you-“

“I’m sure.”

Letting out a soft sigh, you pressed your lips against Matt’s forehead, wrapping your arms around his back and your legs around his waist in a protective manner. Matt hummed softly as he buried his face into your neck, placing his own gentle kiss right beneath your ear as he whispered drowsily.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for loving me the way you do.”

It was rare that Matt ever slowed down enough to voice his most intimate vulnerabilities, and you cherished those moments more than anything. You knew that voicing the thoughts in his head and the emotions in his heart was something he struggled with, but it made your chest swell with adoration and appreciation how much he tried for you. The fact that Matt felt just as safe with you as you did with him wasn’t something you took lightly, and it sent a surge of pride through you.

Tightening your hold on his body, you allowed your lips to linger against his forehead, stroking your fingertips up and down his back gently in a loving manner as you poured your own sincerity into his ears.

“Thank you for letting me.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @desert-fern @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

#weak knees after reading this 🔥🔥🔥#so hot 🔥🔥🔥#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil smut #sub!matt

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candymothster · 1 month ago

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‎‎ 💋Kinktober 2024🍒‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎

EXTREME NSFW WARNING!! MDNI!!

A/N: I am starting VERY late for this year's kinkober! But here is my 2024 masterlist this year! I can't wait to work on this big writing project! Can ya’ll also figure out what special interest I’m into again?

All fics will be posted on both Tumblr and AO3 with respective links.

Edit: Please let me know if you’d like to be in the taglist!

Buy Me A Kofi❤️️ My AO3 Acc❤️️Masterlist❤️️

Day 1 Breast Worship - Scott Summers X Reader Post|AO3

Day 2 Double Penetration - young!Charles Xavier x Reader x young!Erik Lehnsherr

Day 3 Public Sex - tasm!Peter Parker x Reader

Day 4 Sensory Deprivation - priest!Matt Murdock x Reader

Day 5 Bondage - Eddie Brock x Reader

Day 6 A/B/O Heat/Rut - Logan Howlett x Reader

Day 7 Virgin - Nightcrawler x Reader

Day 8 Cock Warming - Charles Xavier x Reader

Day 9 Praise Kink - Nightcrawler x Reader

Day 10 Overstimulation - Wade Wilson x Reader

Day 11 Knife Play - Logan Howlett x Reader

Day 12 Sex Toys - Remy LeBeau x Reader

Day 13 Aftercare - tasm!Peter Parker x Reader

Day 14 Candle-Wax Play/Temperature Play - Bobby Drake x Reader

Day 15 Glory Hole - Wade Wilson x Reader

Day 16 Cock Worship - Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

Day 17 Dom-Sub - Remy LeBeau x Reader

Day 18 Cock ring/Plugs - Nightcrawler x Reader

Day 19 Mirror Sex/Masturbation - Marc Spector x Reader x Steven Grant

Day 20 Threesome - Logan Howlett x Reader x Scott Summers

Day 21 Monsterfucking - werewolf!Steve Rogers x Reader

Day 22 Thigh Riding/Fucking - Peter Maximoff x Reader

Day 23 Breeding - Hank McCoy x Reader

Day 24 Somnophilla - Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

Day 25 Non Con/Dub Con - Victor Creed x Reader

Day 26 Pegging - Remy LeBeau x Reader was

Day 27 Hate Fucking/Angry Sex - Scott Summers X Reader

Day 28 Impact Play - Wade Wilson x Reader

Day 29 Hunter-Prey - Logan Howlett x Reader

Day 30 Sex Pollen - Peter Maximoff x Reader

Day 31 First Time - Warren Worthington III x Reader

Top Divider By @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Rose Divider by me :)

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bellaxgiornata · 1 month ago

Text

On Your Knees, Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 6k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: Role Reversal

Warnings/tags: 18+; pure filthy smut, dom!Reader/sub!Devil, smidge of roughness (very slight), fingering, f!oral receiving, cocky Matt and mouthy Devil (they definitely need a warning)

Summary: You've never been one to take control in the bedroom–until tonight, when you're determined to draw out the Devil and make him submit to you.

a/n: I was unhinged the week when I wrote this, and I'll admit, it's a bit different from my usual smut. Enjoy the filth. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

“Oh come on,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now you're just being cocky.”

Matt smirked at you from his place on the leather couch, sinking deeper back into the cushions as he spread his legs further apart. “I'm just being honest with you, sweetheart,” he replied, casually tossing an arm over the backrest. “You couldn't handle the Devil, and you certainly wouldn't be able to bend him to your will.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you arched a brow at Matt from across the coffee table. You could feel your frustration rising the more he kept dismissing you.

“How would you know?” you questioned. “You've never been with anyone as the Devil before, Matt. Because none of your previous flings ever knew your big secret like I do.”

“Sweetheart,” Matt began, his smirk growing wider, “you're far too soft spoken in the bedroom. Loud in other ways but–and I don't want you to take this wrong–you just…would not be able to handle that side of me. Especially not with you being the one in control.”

“You don’t know that,” you scoffed.

He shot you a pointed look, his head tilting to the side. Your jaw clenched at the sight of it.

“You’ve never been in that role before, sweetheart,” he said. “If you want to play out whatever’s in your head with me, then I’m all for it. But we’re not bringing that side of me into this. Certainly not like that.”

“Why not?” you demanded.

Matt sighed, leaning back into the leather of the couch. “It’s just not that simple. You don’t have any experience and you want to just immediately go straight to controlling the Devil? That’s…a little out of your league, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed back at him, your spine straightening as his words only further increased your determination. Matt was clearly picking up on the subtle shifts in your body, and each one only seemed to grow that arrogant smirk on his face. A smirk you wanted to wipe from his lips with each passing second.

“What’s the harm in letting me try?” you asked, voice darkening.

The corners of Matt’s lips twitched at your tone, clearly catching your growing irritation. “The harm, sweetheart,” he began, his response already grating on your nerves, “is that if you don’t know what you’re doing, this could all go down in a way that we both regret. The Devil isn’t…he’s not just some costume I throw on. He’s–he’s a part of me. A darker part of me.”

“I know, Matt,” you told him. “I’ve been with you for almost a year. I’ve met the Devil. On many occasions and in many different moods. I know exactly who the Devil is and I've always wanted that side of you just as much as this one.”

Over on the couch, Matt expelled a long sigh. “I know we’ve been together for awhile, and yes, you’ve seen that side of me. And I love that you still love me despite that–”

“In spite of it,” you muttered. “I love all of you.”

Matt grinned at your comment before he continued, “But you still don’t have any experience in this area. And I just–just don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to ‘let the Devil out’ as you called it.”

For a moment you stood there, eyeing Matt so casually sprawled out on the leather couch. He couldn’t look any more smug with the way he was practically taking up the whole piece of furniture, his lips still quirked into an arrogant smirk. As you stood there staring at him, an idea gradually began to form in your mind.

“So you won’t just let the Devil out,” you began slowly, studying him closely, “but would you be opposed to me drawing him out myself?”

Matt’s lips twisted into something like a smile before he regained his composure, almost as if he was about to laugh at the idea. A heat flamed within you at the sight, your resolve to tame the Devil only growing by the second.

“And how do you plan to do that?” he asked, amused. “Are you going to rob a bank to lure him out? Mug someone on the street, sweetheart?”

He chuckled at the thought, a deep rumbling sound. The noise had your hands curling into fists where they were crossed over your chest but you fought back your annoyance. You knew he wouldn’t be laughing for long.

“I asked you a question and I expect an answer,” you demanded.

Matt’s amusement quickly subsided at the seriousness in your tone, his own eyes narrowing back at you. A muscle jumped in his cheek before he spoke.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Matt replied. “If you can manage to draw the Devil out, I'll let you. You think you can handle the situation? Then by all means, you can go ahead and try.”

Arching a brow at Matt, you uncrossed your arms, sensually sliding one hand down your body to the waistband of your sleep shorts. Two fingers toyed with the edge of it, your focus on Matt.

“You think I can't?” you challenged back.

Matt's eyes darkened, his unseeing gaze seemingly following the path of your hand as it had traveled down your body. You had his attention now, at least.

“You think that's going to draw out the Devil?” he goaded. “You think that's enough to do it?”

Your hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, your fingers gently running back and forth along your cunt over your panties. Your breath hitched just before you caught the slight flare of Matt's nostrils–exactly what you were looking for.

“I think I know more than you realize,” you told him.

Matt's eyes further narrowed back at you, his arm lowering from the back of the couch as he leaned forward, his smirk gradually shrinking. You definitely had his attention now.

“And just what do you think you know, sweetheart?” he shot back.

Squaring your shoulders, aware of the dampness that had begun to soak through your panties, your fingers continued running along yourself. “I know the scent of me makes you lose your mind,” you stated.

Matt's lip twitched at the corners, his nostrils flaring even more sharply at your words. You were right and he damn well knew it.

“And I know you can hear how wet I'm becoming right now,” you continued. “I can see how it's affecting you. You can’t hide that from me.”

“You're going to need to do a hell of a lot more than that if you want the Devil,” he countered.

Slipping your fingers into your panties, you grinned back at Matt as you ran them between your damp folds. “Oh, I know.”

Judging by the way he was shifting on the couch, his nostrils repeatedly flaring as his hands gripped the cushions, you could tell he was inhaling the scent of you. You'd been with Matt plenty of times to know exactly what your arousal did to him, but there was one thing that had never happened before, one thing you had never done.

Matt had never been denied a taste or a simple touch before. Until now.

“I told you earlier–I want the Devil tonight Matt,” you reminded him. “On his knees and at my feet.”

Matt huffed out a laugh, his gaze briefly flickering to the floor in front of you before it returned to where your fingers were still running back and forth delicately through your damp folds. You knew he could hear the wet sounds they were making and you knew the scent of your arousal in the air was only increasing with every pass of your fingers.

“You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” Matt warned you.

“I know what I'm doing,” you replied.

“Do you?” he asked.

You slid your fingers towards your soaked entrance, your other hand sliding up beneath your shirt. The tips of your fingers barely grazed the underside of your breast and you saw Matt's grip tighten on the couch.

“If you want a taste,” you told him slowly, enunciating each word, “or a touch, Matt, you'll do what you're told. Otherwise you get nothing tonight. You hear me? Nothing.”

Matt’s lip curled back into a partial sneer at your words, his gaze somehow darkening even more at the thought. He clearly didn’t like the idea of you denying him the opportunity to pleasure you, let alone denying him a simple taste–something you’d already guessed he’d be exceptionally unhappy to hear.

“You wouldn’t,” he ground out.

“You can listen to me take care of myself, I’ll let you do that,” you continued, your hand snaking its way up to tweak a nipple as Matt’s lip tugged further back into a snarl. “But when I’m done and I fall asleep in bed afterwards, I know you'll still be awake smelling the scent of me lingering all over the apartment. And while I’m contentedly dreaming, you'll be laying there in bed as the sounds I made–that you love so much–replay over and over in your mind.”

Matt sat stiff on the couch, his elbows now resting along his knees as he leaned forward towards you. His head was cocked even further to the side, his lips still drawn back into a snarl that was bordering on animalistic at your words. His control over the Devil was slipping, that much you could see already. Though it wasn’t Matt that would be your biggest fight, you knew that, but you were certainly thrilled at the sight of him like this. The challenge of bringing the Devil to his knees next was only increasing the dampness pooling between your thighs.

“Really trying to push me over the edge, aren’t you?” he gritted between his teeth.

Slipping two fingers finally into yourself, you loosed a soft sigh at the sensation. On the couch, Matt struggled to contain himself as you slowly pumped your fingers into yourself, your hand on your breast tugging at your nipple. Matt’s knuckles almost turned white as he gripped the cushions tighter.

“Give me the Devil, Matt,” you demanded. “Stop holding back already.”

Visibly teetering on the edge of entirely losing his composure, Matt’s lip began to repeatedly twitch. A deep rumble vibrated in his chest at your words and you knew he was close to losing his control.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he warned.

Pressing the heel of your hand against your clit, a jolt of pleasure shot through you as you sunk your fingers deeper inside. Matt lurched to the edge of the couch cushion now, his body tensed and ready to pounce. He needed a nudge, just a little one, and then you’d have him.

“Let the Devil out, Matt,” you pressed.

The look on his face in conjunction with what you were already doing to yourself had the quietest little moan slip out of your lips. And that was all it took.

Matt’s demeanor shifted instantly. His eyes darkened to something predatory and dangerous before he launched himself off of the leather couch. An excited thrill shot through your body as he took just three brief strides to close the distance between you. And then he was standing before you, one hand darting out lightning quick before his fingers were tightly gripping you by the chin and tilting your face up towards his.

“You wanted the Devil, sweetheart?” he growled out in that familiar gravely tone. “You got him.”

“I said no touching,” you reminded him, your fingers pausing their movements as you stared back at him.

“Do you think I care about your rules?” he challenged. “Your body is begging for me right now. I can hear it.”

“No, it's not,” you disagreed, shaking your head in his hold. “And I know you'll follow my rules because I know you'd never do anything that I don’t consent to. And right now, I didn't say you could touch me, Devil.”

Frustration and annoyance flashed in his eyes as they focused on your mouth while you spoke. His teeth noticeably ground together, his fingers still gripping your chin. You arched an eyebrow at him, knowing full well no matter the situation, Matt would never pass one of your boundaries–even as the Devil. Another moment passed before the Devil growled in aggravation, his fingers abruptly releasing you before his hand dropped back to his side. A shudder of pride burned in you as he did. He wasn’t on his knees yet, but you were positive you'd get him there.

“Fine,” he spat. “I won’t touch you. But don’t think for a second you’re the one in control here.”

With a pleased grin on your lips, you slid your two fingers out from inside of yourself before removing them from your panties. The Devil’s head snapped down towards your hand, tracking its movement as you held up the two glistening fingers in the space between you both. He was almost immobile now, completely fixated on your fingers.

“Every time we’ve been together,” you began in a hushed tone, reveling in the way he was locked on to your fingers, “you always like to call me yours. ‘My good girl,’” you repeated. “So tonight, I want you to be my good little Devil.”

“Think I’m some pet to tame?” he ground out between his teeth. “Think you can control me?”

“Oh, I know exactly how you operate,” you assured him, watching the way he was still focused on your fingers. You knew the scent of your arousal so close to his face was taking every bit of his willpower to hold back from sucking your digits into his mouth. “Those senses of yours can get overwhelmed, and you’ve never been the most patient. Doesn’t help that I can see how much the scent of me is affecting you. You want a taste don’t you, Devil?”

A low growl reverberated through his chest in response. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as his gaze never wavered. Satisfied at his answer, you drew the fingers up to your mouth and slipped them inside, your tongue lapping over them instead of his. You grinned when another deep, irritated rumble vibrated in his chest. You knew you were beginning to do more than frustrate him now.

Slowly you slid the fingers back out of your mouth, enjoying the irritation evident on his face. His body was tense with his restraint, struggling to resist the urge to just tear your clothing off and have you. The thought that he knew he couldn't was incredibly exhilarating.

“Think you can keep teasing and taunting me without any consequences?” he questioned sharply. “You're pushing me, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, I think,” you hummed out as you turned towards the bedroom, “that you're all bark and no bite. You've got absolutely nothing to use against me tonight because there's only one thing I want.”

You gradually began to make your way to the bedroom, grinning when you heard his soft footsteps following after you. He was honed in on you now, his attention fixed. You just had to outlast his stubbornness and you'd have him.

“You really think you've got the upper hand here,” he asked, voice dark and low.

Pausing halfway to the bed, you glanced over your shoulder and saw him stop directly in the doorway. His expression was almost pained beneath his scowl.

“Well you're already following me like a dog,” you teasingly pointed out. “Leaves me to wonder what you think you could possibly tempt me with?”

The Devil's face darkened at your question, a devious smirk curling his lips upwards. “I can give you an entire evening of pleasure like you've never experienced before, sweetheart,” he promised. “Stop this little game now and I'll push your body past its limits until you can hardly feel it anymore. I can make you forget your own name for a few hours. You know I can.”

Walking the rest of the way to the bed, you felt a rush of warmth flood you at his words. You'd never slept with Matt when he was like this before, but you'd always been tempted. You were curious to know what the Devil would be like in the bedroom after all the times you'd seen him come home worked up from patrol, but despite how enticing his offer was, it still wasn’t what you wanted.

“The only thing I want,” you repeated carefully as you sat down on the end of the bed and faced him, “is you right here on your knees doing what I tell you to. And I know you can hear the truth in my words.”

You pointed at the ground in front of your feet, accentuating what you'd said. Another flash of frustration shone back at you in his eyes as his smirk entirely disappeared. His jaw tightened once more, determination to fight you still written across his face. Despite his rigid posture and the way he remained in the doorway, you noticed how he'd gone temporarily quiet. The knowledge that he had no leverage, no way to tease you and distract you, had him closer to breaking. You could feel it.

“Still need more encouragement?” you asked coyly.

Hands grabbing onto both your shorts and your underwear, you gradually pushed them down your legs before tossing them carelessly off to the side of the bed. The Devil’s hands began to clench and unclench at his sides but he didn't move from his place in the threshold. With your lower half now exposed, the unobstructed scent of your arousal was likely driving him mad. Lightly resting your hand along your stomach, the tips of your fingers just barely brushed the sensitive bundle of nerves as you settled in to give him the last few pushes over the edge.

“You have two options, Devil,” you told him, watching his nostrils sharply flaring back at you. “You can stand there and keep fighting me and I'll happily get off on my own just watching you. Or you can tell me that you'll be my good little Devil and I'll let you help me.”

A dangerous snarl tore out of his chest at your second option. The sound sent a delicious wave of arousal through your body, your skin practically humming in response. But he still didn't answer, continuing to remain silent. His lack of response had you grinning, especially when you caught the bulge now poking through his gray sweatpants.

“That your choice then?” you asked.

Fingers moving down a fraction, you began to gently draw circles over your clit. A soft, pleased sigh slipped out of your lips as you lowered back onto the bed, resting on one elbow. Eyes falling shut, you focused on pleasuring yourself, enjoying the fact that he was still standing in the doorway focused on you while you did.

“You're not going to get off right in front of me,” he snapped.

You opened your eyes, attention returning to him by the door. He'd taken a single step into the bedroom now, that pained expression becoming further visible on his face. That one step said more than he realized.

“I'll finish without you,” you warned him with a sly grin. “Show you how little I need you.”

Back arching along the bed, you caught the second step he took towards you as a feral snarl tore through the bedroom. Your finger began to move a little quicker as you added a bit more pressure along your clit, your breath coming in sharper.

“I'm not going to make this easy for you,” he growled.

Laughing lightly, your eyes fell shut once more as a shudder raced up your spine. It was an empty threat and you both knew it.

“Not a damn thing you can do, Devil,” you told him, breath coming in quick pants as another surge of pleasure raced through you. “You're not allowed to touch. Not until you–”

Your sentence broke off on a soft moan, the noise loud in the otherwise silent bedroom. With your eyes still closed, you could almost feel his senses raking over you, taking in the racing of your heart, the scent of your arousal, the blood rushing through your body, the flush in your cheeks.

“Not until you agree to be my good little Devil,” you finished, eyelids fluttering back open.

He’d taken another step closer now, standing barely two feet away from you. His jaw was tensed, his teeth grinding back and forth as the muscle repeatedly jumped in his cheek. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, his shoulders drawn up to his neck. You could hear his sharp breaths each time his nostrils flared now. Biting your lip, you tilted your head to the side as you once more slid your fingers through your damp folds, teasing your entrance. The sensation had your eyes almost closing, but you fought to keep them open, watching as he almost took another step closer.

“Last chance, Devil,” you told him. “Come here or I'll finish without you.”

A dark, almost guttural growl tore straight out of his chest in sheer frustration. Removing your hand from yourself, you sat up on the edge of the bed. His unseeing gaze once more snapped directly down towards your damp fingers, his tongue yet again darting out along his lips hungrily.

“Come here, Devil,” you ordered.

An almost imperceptible whine slipped out of his lips before he grudgingly closed the remaining distance between you both. You smiled at the sight, realizing he was on the cusp of submitting–even if reluctantly. Leaning closer towards him, you reached your hand up to his face. His sightless eyes managed to track the movement almost perfectly until you’d gripped him by the chin, your fingers intentionally near his mouth but not remotely touching it. A rough grunt fell out of him at your touch, his eyes narrowing back at you.

“You’re going to regret this later,” he warned. “I can promise you that, sweetheart.”

“We’ll see about that, Devil,” you murmured, still holding his chin. “But for now, you need to do what you’re told.”

His lip twitched in response, his eyes glaring darkly at you. Biting your lip, you gave a little tug downwards on his chin.

“On your knees, Devil,” you ordered.

A deep, rumbling snarl slipped out of his lips at your order and the way you’d tugged his chin, but you held your ground as you sat on the edge of the bed. Seconds passed as he stood there towering over you, a fire burning in his eyes that was a mix of desire, need, and sheer agitation. But then gradually, ever so slowly, you saw him finally and reluctantly sink down to his knees before you, his lips still curled back into a frustrated sneer. A slow, triumphant smile spread across your mouth as you continued to hold his chin firmly between your wet fingers.

“Are you going to be my good little Devil?” you asked.

“Enjoy this moment while you can,” he growled up at you. “Because it’s never happening again, sweetheart. I’ll have you on your knees–”

“Are you going to be my good little Devil?” you questioned more firmly, cutting him off mid sentence.

An irate growl rumbled in his throat. “Is it necessary to call me that?”

“Answer the question,” you ordered.

His eyes narrowed further back at you, his hands slowly coming up to rest along the bed on either side of your hips. A shudder ran through you as he gripped the mattress tight, your cunt clenching around air at the sight of him like this before you. His attention immediately snapped down to the space between your thighs, an almost choked noise getting caught in his throat.

“Yes,” he ground out.

Releasing his chin, you slowly set both of your legs over his shoulders before leaning back and resting your elbows along the bed. You stared down at him, comfortable on the bed as he sat gnawing on his bottom lip just before you, his sightless eyes staring longingly at one part of your body in particular.

“That’s my good little Devil,” you praised.

A sharp grunt met your words and you grinned. He might’ve been irritated, but he was technically still obeying.

“Do you want to get me off?” you asked him. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to make you feel so good you can’t do anything but scream,” he snarled back. “Want to hear that pretty little mouth crying up there. Show you how much you do need me, sweetheart.”

“Watch yourself, Devil,” you warned. “You’re getting a little too feisty down there.”

“What did you expect?” he snapped. “This is the closest thing you’re going to get to what you want with me. You can’t tame me. Can’t control me.”

Your eyes narrowed at his challenge. “Yeah? Take one taste, Devil. Go on.”

With his hands gripping the bed tighter on either side of your hips, he leaned in and swiped the flat of his tongue entirely up the length of you, as if trying to taste as much of you as he could. Your eyes snapped shut the second he’d touched you, the sound of his throaty groan cutting straight through the bedroom. Opening your eyes a second later, you saw his own eyes had closed, his face contorted into a mix of pleasure and pain before he released a long, low growl.

“You want more?” you whispered down to him.

His eyes snapped open at your voice, their focus finding your chin. He blinked a few times, his expression wavering between bliss and frustration.

“Yes,” he ground out.

“You’re going to be my good little Devil then, do you understand?” you asked.

“Yes,” he grunted.

“That’s a good little Devil,” you replied. “Fingers first. Prove you can behave, then maybe I’ll let you use your mouth.”

A frustrated noise rumbled in his chest in response, but he didn’t argue back this time. Instead, one of his hands released his tight grip along the bed before he lifted it over your leg and left it hovering in front of your soaked entrance. His lips twitched again before his tongue slipped out, gliding along the length of his bottom lip. A jolt of excitement raced through you at the sight, anticipation of what was about to happen taking hold of you as you held your breath, awaiting his touch.

Two of his thick fingers finally began to slide back and forth delicately along your entrance, teasing you just a little as your arousal gathered along his fingertips. Then slowly he slid them up through your folds towards your clit with a faint groan of pleasure. With the slightest pressure, he began lightly tracing the exact patterns to immediately cause your hips to squirm along the bed. A satisfied rumble met your ears as your eyes fell shut and your breath came in faster.

His other hand released the bed, grabbing the thigh resting along his shoulder in a tight vice as he yanked you further towards him. A surprised gasp flew out of you as you slid forward on the bed, your eyes reopening at the movement. You’d been about to chastise him for what he’d just done, but the sight of the devilish grin on his lips had your mouth momentarily going dry. As much as you wanted to appear confident in this situation, you couldn’t deny that the Devil was certainly a challenge, even if he was mostly obeying you now.

After a moment, his fingers traveled back down towards your entrance, the sensitive bundle of nerves above still desperate for his attention. But instead he slipped a single digit inside of you, sinking it in as far as it could go. Your breath hitched in response, your hips raising just a fraction off of the bed. The Devil immediately pushed you back down with the hand gripping your thigh, holding you still on the mattress.

“I want more,” he growled.

His eyes darted up to you as his finger began to pump in and out of you, the wet squelch with each thrust loud even to you. Your heart was hammering in your chest, your body begging to reach your climax after everything that had been leading up to this moment.

“And I can tell you do, too,” he said. “Don’t deny it.”

“Bit–bit mouthy for one who’s supposed to be behaving,” you stammered out, the continued waves of pleasure causing your mind to cloud.

“I want a taste,” he shot back, his finger pumping a bit more roughly into you as he said it. “I’m doing what you want, sweetheart. Now give me what I want.”

Your eyelids fluttered as he stuck a second finger inside, his pace moving agonizingly slow on purpose. Struggling to focus, you tried to formulate a coherent thought, but it was difficult to do with his hot breath washing over you as he worked.

“That sounded more like a command, Devil,” you replied, trying your best to stay focused. “Try that again.”

A frustrated rumble sounded in the room, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers fucking you. Your breath was coming in shallower now, your body getting closer and closer to your climax. You knew he could tell, and you knew he’d do what you wanted before you came. Because you knew he’d want his mouth on you when you did.

His eyes closed as his head snapped to the side. A look of distaste crossed his features before he spoke. “Let me use my mouth…please.”

Your cunt tightened around his fingers when you heard the Devil actually beg you. The power you felt at that one word alone almost had you toppling over the edge, but you fisted the sheets in your hands and tried to hold on a bit longer.

“That’s–that’s my good little Devil,” you breathed out. “You ask, you don’t–don’t demand.”

The sound of his irritated growl broke on a whine this time and your eyes darted straight to him. His fingers were still sinking into you repeatedly, but it seemed as if his composure was breaking the wetter you were becoming.

“Please,” he ground out. “Let me get you there. The way I know your body is begging for it.”

Your breath hitched at his unexpected and sincere plea, but you found yourself wanting a little more. “Ask again,” you demanded, trying to keep your voice even.

“Let me taste you,” he began, his usually husky, dark tone laced with growing desperation. “Please, let me–let me take care of you how I know you need it. Please.”

Struggling to keep your orgasm from crashing into you, you nodded quickly. “Yes, use–use your mouth,” you whispered back.

The Devil didn’t even wait for you to finish your sentence before his face had lunged forward, his plush lips sucking your sensitive clit right into his mouth. The sensation had a sharp cry flying out of you, your head falling back over your shoulders. He began frantically sucking on your clit, his teeth lightly grazing it at one point. The sensation caused you to hiss in pleasure, your hips fighting against his hold on you. But as his fingers inside of you never ceased their movements, relentlessly fucking into you over and over, his other hand had slid up your thigh and over your stomach. His thick, single muscular arm was holding you firm to the mattress as he brought you even closer to the brink.

Your body felt like it was on fire with sheer pleasure, your back fighting his hold to arch along the mattress as your eyes had begun to roll back. You were close, so incredibly close. And that’s when you caught the sound of his hungry, vexed growls against your clit turning into high-pitched whines. Struggling to keep your focus, your breath repeatedly catching in your throat as you fisted the bed sheets tighter in your holder, you glanced down at the Devil. From your angle you couldn’t see much, but it almost looked as if he was struggling from rutting against the bed. The sight had a curse slipping out of your lips at just how desperate and aroused he was himself.

“Doing–alright–down there?” you panted out.

You were growing dizzy at the sensations his tongue and his fingers were giving you, your entire body feeling like it was vibrating. The Devil only responded with something like a choked moan, the sound muffled against you as he continued to diligently and determinedly get you off. That needy, desperate sound coming from the Devil–the same one criminals feared in Hell’s Kitchen’s streets–as he fought the urge to rut against the bed just from the taste of you, from the sounds your body was making in his ears, had you immediately hitting your peak.

One hand releasing the bed sheets, you reached out and gripped his forearm so tight your nails dug into his skin. He hissed against you just as your head fell limp over your shoulders, your eyes closing as your mouth went slack. A long, low moan gradually tore out of you just as you reached your climax. You felt the Devil slip his fingers out, instead using those against your clit as he worked you through your release. His mouth had latched onto your cunt, lapping at your release like a starved man. The bedroom around you filled with his strangled moans of pleasure and the wet, hungry licks of his tongue against you.

Body suddenly heavy, you sunk down into the mattress, your eyes blinking blankly up at the ceiling. Below you, the Devil’s movements had gradually begun to take an obvious shift. You felt soft, gentle laps at your entrance before his wet mouth was gently kissing and nuzzling at your inner thighs. Struggling to sit upright on the bed, you glanced down to see Matt’s half-lidded eyes as he continued nuzzling against your leg. Reaching a hand out, you gently began to card your fingers through his hair as you tried to catch your breath.

“Matty? You good?” you asked.

“Mmm,” he hummed out, planting another kiss against your skin. “Yes. You–you taste so good.”

You smiled softly down at him, your hand coming to lightly tap the arm he still had resting along your stomach. “Hey, come up here,” you whispered.

He gently kissed your thigh once more before he sluggishly rose to his feet. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the damp patch soaking the front of his sweatpants, your eyebrows rising.

“Matty, did you…?”

Sinking into the mattress beside you, Matt wrapped his arms around your waist and drew you towards himself with a huff. He buried his face into your shoulder, his eyes closing.

“I…guess I underestimated you,” he murmured into your skin. “That was–” he paused, teeth lightly nipping your shoulder. “I like you like that.”

“Oh you do, do you?” you teased back.

“Mhmm,” he hummed.

You grinned, resting your cheek against the top of his head as you tried to catch your breath. “We should probably get cleaned up, though,” you whispered.

Matt burrowed closer to your neck, releasing a soft sigh. “Mmm, in a minute, sweetheart,” he replied. “Let me just–just recover first.”

You laughed lightly, one hand gently resting along his thigh that was nestled beside your bare one. “Alright, my good little Devil,” you teased.

Matt’s lips pulled into a smile against your shoulder at the praise, a soft, contented hum vibrating in his throat. You had a feeling that after tonight he wouldn’t fight you so much the next time you asked for the Devil.

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @millennial-birkin @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl @zomtart @justvalkyrie @steve-chandler

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