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farfromstrange · 1 year 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 · 11 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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qu1etwolf · 2 years ago

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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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123passwort · 2 years 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 · 4 months ago

Text

‎‎ 💋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 · 4 months 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

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil #Tuna-Tober 2024

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chrisisvbun · 1 month ago

Text

little intern. matt murdock x ftm!reader.

synopsis: you, a lawyer intern, found matt, your boss, in his office at night.

cw: boss/intern dynamic, dom!matt, sub!reader, piv, possessive matt, innocent reader, age gap (matt is 30, reader is nineteen), slight fingering, riding.

words: 1.3k

a ten nsfw chapter series masterlist.

You were about to open your mouth but Matt spoke first.

"I know it's you, handsome." He smiled, taking off his glasses on the chair of his office.

The warm light of the desk lamp allowed you to see his loose tie, his wrinkled shirt, and some scratches on his eyebrow and cheekbone. He sighed, evidently tired.

"You know you don't have to stay this late, sweet, you still have classes in the morning." He rubbed his temple.

"I-I don't mind staying, Mr. Murdock, and classes start pretty late for me." You said, squeezing your forms on your chest. "A-a friend of mine found some archives that might be useful for your case, I just finished checking them." You spoke as you put down the archives.

He smiled almost proudly, his eyes never really finding yours. Beautiful, dead eyes that shined from that innocent nature they kept due to the fact they never got to see how hurt their world was.

"Workin' so good for us. I like that." You noticed how that 'us' was a 'me' that he swallowed. "Come closer to me, sugar." He made a little sign that made you get closer like he was magnetic.

You stood in front of his chest, your hands fidgeting behind your back, swallowing nervously.

"How are your studies going?" He got rid of his tie, folding it on his desk.

"G-good..." You blushed.

Matt was your boss, someone older than you, almost —that almost is important— double your age, a good lawyer, someone smart, kind, strong and very, very hot.

You couldn't help it, you couldn't help but to stare at his body, a part of you taking advantage of his blindness to roam your eyes over his body again and again and again.

You shook your head when you noticed that your answer was to vague. "I've been studying a lot, my grades keep getting better, t-thanks to everything I've learnt with you... a-and Mr. Nelson."

He chuckled softly. "I'm glad about it, sweetheart." He smiled up to you —to where he could partially tell your face was—. "Come closer, I won't bite." He sat straighter in his chair.

You swallowed, nervously stepping closer to him, standing next to him as he turned his chair to you.

"L-like this?" You said blushed.

He shook his head and patted his thigh. The mother fucker patted his thigh.

"C'mon, don't keep your boss waiting." He smirked.

You shivered at his words, shyly sitting on his knees. His hands ran through his thighs, trying to fins your waist. Once he found it, he pulled you closer, you gasped at the sudden feeling of the hardness on his jeans.

"Mr. Murdock..." You shivered.

"Yes, handsome?" He ran his hands through your back.

"I-I'm not sure how okay this is." You said shyly, he chuckled.

His hands moved back to your hips, one of them moving under your shirt and caressing your tummy, making you squirm.

"Shh, don't worry about a thing. I want that pretty mind of yours to focus on studying and me." I have pressed a gentle kiss on your collarbone, making you bite the inside part of your cheek, whimpering. "Is this okay, love?"

You nodded quickly. "Yeah..." You pronounced as you swallowed hard.

Matt knew that wasn't a good thing to do, he was your boss and you were only nineteen, a shy little boy who found his boss very hot, and he was taking advantage of that, he knew it. But even being catholic, he never considered himself a good man.

His hands moved to your back, running them up and down over your skin beneath your shirt until the hem of your binder.

"Are you gonna let me feel that pretty body of yours?" He purred as he peppered kisses over your collarbone and throat.

"Y-yes. Yes, Mr. Murdock." You whined quietly.

Matt pulled away. "C'mon, take it off." He ordered.

You couldn't not obey, he was your boss.

You unbuttoned your white shirt, throwing it on the office floor.

He noticed when you stopped moving. "Everything."

He wasn't even thinking of your comfort, of how that would make you feel, and God, that turned you on even more.

You unzipped your binder, sighing when breasts stretched free.

Matt's mouth instantly went to your chest, his hands roamed your stomach and the small of your back while his mouth worshipped your breasts, taking your nipples into his mouth and sucking from them.

"You feel so good..." Matt almost moaned against your tits, rubbing his face against them.

You were a whining, red mess, your face was burning hot while your lips were parted with whiny sounds that came out of it, and all of that while your brain tried to process the fact that you had your hot boss sucking your tits in his office.

With one swift move, he sat you on the edge of his desk, kissing your knees and thighs while his hands worked on taking off his belt and pants. You did the same with yours, pulling down your pants and Matt quickly moved a broad hand to the pit of your boxers, one rough pad rubbing your already wet clit. You sank your nails on his shoulders, not expecting that sudden touch, moaning out loud.

"So wet, handsome, is this all for me?" He smiled, rubbing harder. You couldn't answer, you were a mess, unable to pronounce anything other than whiny sounds with 'Mr. Murdock' in between of them. "C'mon, don't lie to me, is this cunt all mine, pretty boy?"

"Y-yes! Yes, M-mr. Murdock!" You moaned when he pressed your sweet button.

"That's a good boy." He groaned, biting the inside part of your thigh. "Take them off and come back here." He bossed.

Of course, you obeyed. Shyly but quickly, you removed your boxers, getting completely naked for him.

"Very good." He smiled again. You wouldn't lie, his praises were making you shiver, you thought you would come if you heard even one more little praise.

He moved you again to his bare lap, his pants all pressed on his ankles, his shirt open, and his cross necklace hanging from his neck. Your hands held his shoulders, squeezing them when you felt his cock hard between your bodies.

"Feeling how you got me? Huh?" He moved your hips, making you grind against his hardness. "This is every fucking day. How am I supposed to focus on work and on teaching you when you get me so freaking hard?"

You whined, desperately. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Mr. Murdock."

He shook his head, one hand moving to cup your cheek. "No, handsome, sorry isn't enough." He lifted your hips, making your slowly sink on his hard cock, your wetness making that smoother. Your eyes opened wide, you could feel his broad, fat cock spreading you open, warm and deliciously.

"You are gonna be mine, you got that? That pussy belongs to me, for me to use when I want." He moved his hips in circles, his veiny dick rubbing against your velvety walls. "Understood?"

"Uh-hum..." You whined out, hugging his neck.

He smiled when he heard your little whine, his hips slowly rocking upwards against your little wet cunt, you let out little cries as you felt him all over your tight walls that clenched around him, sucking him in.

"I almost can't move here, handsome, so freaking small and tight." He almost mocked you, kissing your chest softly. "You can't ride, can you? You can't even move."

He smiled, you were squeezing his shoulders as you tried your best to accommodate his length, but it was almost impossible.

"Just for tonight, I'll be doing the work, but we are gonna need some practice here, alright? I want you to ride me everytime, pretty boy, and I'll teach you all about it, my good little intern."

#matt murdock x male reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil #ftm reader #chris writes

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pastafossa · 6 months ago

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"Do I Need To Beg?" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

Right so like a lot of other people, I saw that leaked trailer and had thots, mostly about Matt's new beard, and much like my thoughts on his coat, none of these thots are pure. This is pure fucking sin, in other words, one of the filthier things I've written, so scroll past if that's not your thing. Also thank you to my friends over in the Murdock's Tuna Team server, ya'll are the best fucking enablers ever.

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

“Welcome home, Mrs. Murdock,” he purred darkly, lazily dragging his tongue across his lips in a way that told you, quite clearly, what he was imagining. “If you need to shower or drink a glass of water, do it now. Because the second you enter this bedroom, you’re mine for the rest of the night. And I have no intention of letting you go until I’ve had my fill.”

Wordcount: 4.1k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: oral f!receiving and a LOT of it like this is literally just a love letter to bearded Matt eating you out (Matt retains his 😺eating crown), brief oral m!receiving, Dom!Matt, Sub!Reader, bondage, overstimulation, subspace, dirty talk, PiV towards the end, Matt's new fucking BEARD none of us are ok

Matt with an oral fixation incoming, here have this:

Your trip out of town had lasted longer than you’d initially expected.

Initially you'd only planned to be gone for ten days, but ten had abruptly been extended to an irritating fourteen with little notice. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything you could do about it, though Matt had reassured you over the phone that it was fine. While he missed you dearly and would have vastly preferred you back home and in his arms, he understood that things were out of your control. However, he did have one more thing to say before you’d both given your goodbyes, something that wound up eating at you for the rest of your trip in all the best ways.

“Besides,” he’d murmured. “It’ll give me a little more time to work on my surprise for you.”

What that surprise was had been a mystery, one he’d smugly refused to reveal no matter how much you’d tried to pry it out of him over the ensuing phone calls. It couldn’t have been a gift for your next wedding anniversary, which was still a few months away. Nor was it your birthday, or Valentine’s Day. As best you could guess, this was just one of those moments when Matt decided to give you something, just because he could, just because he wanted to, no prompting needed. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence with him, one more thread in the tapestry made from all the many reasons you loved him.

However, on the list of things you’d expected to find when you finally made it home, you hadn’t thought to include Matt standing shirtless in the bedroom doorway, his sweats slung low on his hips, his hair still damp from his shower. One corner of his mouth curled up into a wicked smirk, and oh, he knew. He knew, or he’d at least suspected what your response would be to his surprise, and you drew in a sharp intake of breath.

He’d grown a beard.

You raked your gaze over it, taking in the way it seemed to change the angles of his jaw and his face, somehow adding a dangerous edge to his smile. What was more, there were little patches of grey scattered amidst the dark of it. You had no idea why, but something about those threads of silver only added to the building heat between your thighs, a fire that had started the second you’d seen him standing casually in the doorway, his beautiful body on open display just for you.

How would it feel to touch him, cradle his jaw in your hands now?

How would it feel when he pressed his lips to yours, to your throat?

And how would it feel as he made his way down, down, down, the rough scrape of his beard lighting you up as he drifted towards one of his favorite places on your body?

Your shiver drew a rumble of satisfaction from him. He slowly rolled his head back, inhaling deeply, clearly savoring the scent of your arousal.

You were pretty sure you’d never downed a glass of water and gotten into the shower so quick in your life.

Matt kept his promise. The second you stepped out of the bathroom, he was on you, his beard a deliciously unfamiliar sensation as he caught your face between his hands and pressed his mouth hungrily to yours. That wild kiss didn’t stop at just one, your lips separating only to meet again a half-breath later, over and over again. The two of you only grew more frantic with every second that passed, hips beginning to rock, bodies swaying towards each other, until you were both left gasping, frantic and breathless, hands groping desperately across whatever bared skin either of you could reach.

“Bed.” The word was a low growl against your lips, his hand wound loosely around your throat, one thumb up under the hinge of your jaw to force your head back for him. One of your hands, meanwhile, had slipped back and down beneath the hem of his sweats, blatantly groping at the thick curve of his ass. He let out a rough groan that you eagerly swallowed down, the skin around your mouth already burning from the rasp of his beard where it had rubbed against you. “Fuck—Bed. Now.”

He wasn’t going to get an argument from you.

It was a short, stumbling walk from there to the bedroom. Neither of you bothered to keep your hands off each other, your fingers fisting in his damp hair as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to that special spot under your jaw that made your legs shake, Matt seemingly eager to drink the remaining droplets of water from your skin. You should have guessed his plans when you noticed the towel on the bed. But it was hard to focus with the tantalizing burn of his new beard dragging across the delicate skin of your throat, and with the taste and scent and touch of him filling your senses after a long two weeks apart. It felt like there was nothing in the world but him, nothing but the scent of cinnamon and copper and salt, the warmth of it so rich you couldn’t help but gasp with it as he herded you backwards until at last, you both found the bed.

The world lurched, and just like that you were pinned beneath him, the broad, heavy weight of him easily trapping you against the mattress, not that you minded. Your ragged moan of his name seemed to hang in the air, your fingers still tangled in his hair. God, your cunt was practically dripping already as you lifted your hips, trying to rock up against him in invitation. You'd been thinking of this the entire time you'd showered. He had to have sensed it. “Matt, sweetheart, please.” “I’ve been thinking about this since you left,” he purred in your ear, his breath a rush of burning embers before he started down your body. The moment he reached your bare breasts, he pressed his face between them, the rasp of his beard making you shiver. He inhaled deeply, dragging your scent deep into his lungs. That inhale led to a hitched, delighted moan, his hips rocking down against the mattress. Without warning, he turned his head and eagerly drew one of your nipples into his mouth. The greedy suction of his mouth when paired with the bristling scratch of his facial hair made you whine, writhing as best you could where you were trapped beneath the heavy weight of muscle and bone. But despite the way you offered up your chest in invitation, he had other plans, quickly releasing your breast to slide further down your body. His voice dropped into something low and sinful, then, soft as silk against your skin. “And I’ve missed this sweet pussy of yours, sweetheart.” He placed a tender, innocent kiss against your hip, the gentle nature of it at direct odds with the obscenity of his words. It was a combination that left you burning up, your breath hitching as he pointedly lifted one of your legs to drape it easily over his shoulder. He directed his blank gaze back up towards your own, his lips curling up into a feral grin. “So I’m going to see how many times I can make you come with my mouth tonight. And I’m not stopping until you’ve soaked everything underneath you.”

Oh god—

Your eager moan and the fresh flood of arousal between your legs was the only answer he needed. He let out a quiet hiss before diving in, his tongue burying itself between your folds for one heavy lap up your cunt, the first taste of you he’d had in weeks. And with a rough moan that matched yours in volume, he threw one arm over your hips, and settled in.

And there he stayed, his face buried between your thighs, for hours.

You lost track of your orgasms after you came for the third time, three of his fingers hilted deep inside you, his tongue lapping firmly, determinedly at your clit. It had been impossible to resist between that and the rhythmic, rough scrape of his beard against the inside of your thighs—a sweet-edged pain you were quickly growing addicted to. You came so hard you saw spots at the edge of your vision, came so hard you left a puddle on the towel beneath you, your startled cry loud enough to wake the neighbors. Your brain didn’t even know what to do with that kind of pleasure, your thighs snapping shut around his head, your whole body writhing as the pleasure washed over you in uneven waves.

But Matt didn’t so much as slow. If anything, he simply opened his mouth wider, drank from you even faster, swallowing down that flood as if you were the sweetest of wines. The moment he tasted your orgasm, one that drenched his beard and mouth, his eyes snapped shut, his hips bucking against the mattress. A wild, shaky moan tore from his throat as he came with you, soaking his sweats, the rhythm of his mouth growing clumsy and uneven.

Yet still, he didn’t stop, despite the fact you'd both come. All it took was a few breaths before he was back at it. He seemed almost mindless now, focused only on taking, greedy and insatiable as he forced your body and his to start the climb yet again.

You lost control over your body not long after, your reactions instinctive and uncoordinated. Somehow you found your hands back in his hair, soft, sweat-soaked strands sliding through your fingers. You weren’t sure what you meant to do then, whether you wanted to push him away from your overstimulated body or pull him in even closer, ride his face the way you wanted. Either way, he wound up deciding for you.

“Seems to me like someone can’t control herself.” He braced one hand firmly against your abdomen, and though he couldn’t see you, you still felt pinned by his gaze and the almost drunken little quirk of his lips. Even in the low light, you could see how his beard and mouth glistened, slick with the taste of you. “Do you need the rope, sweetheart? Do you want me to help you?”

There wasn’t a chance in the world of you remaining still without that rope, not if he intended to keep going. And you both knew it.

“Yes, please,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering closed as he clumsily rose from his place between your legs. Despite the lingering oversensitivity in your body, the sudden absence of his mouth still made you whimper. You just—you needed more, the promise of it keeping the tide of your arousal from fully easing.

“What a good girl, admitting you need help,” he crooned, crawling up the bed far enough to reach the nightstand, pausing only to brush his lips against yours, the scent of your sex clinging heavily to his beard and mouth. He opened the drawer and dug around for a moment, until he finally drew free a length of red silk rope, testing it out in his hand. Once he was satisfied, he began to loop the rope around your wrists. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you can’t move. Because I meant what I said. I’m not letting you up until I’m finished with you, and I’m nowhere near done, sweetheart.”

The moment your wrists were properly tied, he placed his knees on either side of you, rising up to hook the length of rope to the hook set into the wall. But that put something else within reach of your mouth, and all the grinding he’d done against the bed had managed to drag his soaked sweats down just far enough to expose his cock. He was already half-hard again, the head slick and dripping, flushed dark and tempting.

In that moment, you needed to taste it.

The noise he made as you darted your head forward and took the tip of him into your mouth was inhuman, one part choked gasp and one part snarl. You suckled at the broad head eagerly, rapid little licks of your tongue against his slit to draw out more of the precum leaking steadily into your mouth, trying to get as much as you could before he could stop you. He wound up hunched over the top of you, one hand braced against the wall, the other fisted in your hair to hold you against him. And the harder you sucked, the more his rough growls and snarls shifted into high moans and soft little whines, his hips bucking instinctively, helplessly forward, pressing his cock deeper into the warm, welcoming wet heat of your mouth. Even those powerful thighs of his started to shake.

If you did this right, he’d come in no time at all.

But it was the creak of the ropes as you instinctively reached for him that seemed to snap him out of it.

Just like that, your head was wrenched back by his hand in your hair, his cock sliding free from your lips with a wet pop, saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth, and down onto your chest as you stared blearily up at him. Chest heaving, dark eyes burning, he slowly leaned down until his lips hovered mere millimeters from yours. But even though his lips hadn’t made contact, his beard did, the faintest brush of bristling hairs tickling against your overheated skin until you couldn’t help but moan.

“And this,” he grit out, “is why you’re being tied: because you can’t keep your hands or your mouth to yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” you whined, trying to nuzzle at him in apology. He dodged your mouth, his hand tightening in your hair in warning. This time, at least, you listened, rolling your head back into his touch, trying to make up for what you’d done, submit like he wanted. “I’m sorry, Matt. I just wanted a taste, I needed you so bad.”

“If you’d asked like a good girl, maybe I’d have given it to you. Now you’re going to have to make it up to me.” He abruptly let go of your hair, climbing back down your body, ignoring the way you thrashed and twisted. Once he was back in place, he roughly shoved your thighs apart, dropping back down between your legs like he belonged there, claiming that space for himself. “Do I need to beg?” you choked out, practically shaking when he caught the thin, delicate skin of your inner thigh between his teeth, sucking hard. He lingered there for a long moment as you moaned and yanked desperately on the ropes, but it was no use. He was in control, not you, and you knew he wouldn’t let go until he’d left his mark, claiming this part of your body that belonged to only him. But what you weren’t expecting was for him to let go… and then tip his head, sliding his cheek, and his beard along the newly sensitive skin. The burn of it sent you soaring, your cunt clenching around nothing, your back arching as you tried to offer your core up to his mouth. “I’ll beg! God, I will, Matt, just—” “I don’t need you to beg,” he growled, his lips curling until he’d bared his teeth. “I need you to scream.”

Then his mouth latched onto your cunt again, relentless and inescapable no matter how much you writhed. It was torture, madness of the best kind, and it wasn’t long before something in your mind began to unravel, drawn right down out of your body and into his mouth to be swallowed down the Devil's greedy throat.

Things… got a little blurry after that.

There was no tracking the time, not when one orgasm melded into the next, minutes and hours falling away beneath the merciless lap of Matt’s skilled tongue, the brutal curl of his thick fingers, the rough scrape of his beard against your thighs and cunt until everything burned with pleasure and pain that turned the edges of your vision a fractured white. There was no outside world, no thought left in your mind but his name, nothing but the mountains he dragged your increasingly exhausted body up, and the swift fall when he mercilessly shoved you over the edge, over and over and over until you were ready to lose your mind.

“Matt!” you sobbed, wrenching hard at the ropes binding your wrists. It didn’t make one bit of difference, the rope firm and unyielding where you were bound. Down between your legs, Matt slurped hungrily, drunkenly at your cunt, his face and throat drenched with your slick, a wide puddle on the towel beneath the place where his mouth connected to your body. The burn of his beard was almost unbearable now, but you didn’t know what to do about it. You weren’t even sure he could hear you at this point, his eyes glazed over and glassy, the broad laps at your slit and clit so instinctive and clumsy that you were half convinced he was lost in the same place you were, drunk off the taste of your pussy, off your repeated orgasms and pheromones that he’d been drenched in.

Another finger joined the three he already had buried deep inside you. He’d been at this so long that your body parted for him with little issue, and god, god, you were so goddamn full, so trapped in the haze that all you could do was choke out another sob as all four of his fingertips rubbed firmly at that spot inside you. You were too tired even to close your legs around his head, but you could feel it—that final orgasm curling hot and inescapable inside you, so close now you could taste the fractured shards of it, tears streaming down your cheeks as your eyes snapped shut.

“I think maybe you earned that taste you wanted,” he slurred, kissing lovingly at your clit like he might a lover, his lips parted just far enough to let his tongue brush against you. And god, it almost hurt, it hurt, your body so far beyond oversensitivity that even that light touch hit you like a bolt of lightning, your body jolting. “Not that you can answer me now. Or can you?”

All you could give him was a mindless whine.

He chuckled, working his free hand down beneath himself as he lifted his hips. His mouth dropped open a moment later, face going slack against your cunt before he moaned loudly, his shoulder shifting rhythmically beneath your thigh, his eyes rolling shut. Was he—

He drew his hand up a moment later with a purr, his fingers now smeared and sticky with both your wetness and his, glistening softly in the low light. “What do you say, sweetheart? Would you like a taste? Because I would.”

You whimpered, tugging mindlessly at the ropes, and you—yes, yes, but your tongue couldn’t seem to quite form the word yes, because he still had the fingers of his other hand buried inside you, rubbing steadily at the spot that made you see stars. God, please, the mere thought of tasting your combined flavors on your tongue had you almost mad, your body a hairs-breadth away from coming. All you needed was a nudge—a brush of him at your clit, the taste of him on your tongue, and you’d tip over the edge.

He clearly knew it, too. And you thought-you’d thought he would be offering his hand as he dipped back down to your cunt, but instead, he pulled his soaked fingers free from you with a sigh. Your cry was a broken thing, something thick with grief at feeling so empty when you were so close, more tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Shh, you’re alright, sweetheart, don't cry,” he crooned gently, hushing you as he crawled up over your body, nuzzling at your sweat-soaked skin. “Don’t worry. It’s only for a second. I won’t leave you empty. I promise. Almost done. Almost there. One more for me. You’re going to give me one more, honey.” But how, when you were so empty, when you didn’t have his mouth or his fingers, lost and—

He groaned as he began to slide his thick cock inside you. You’d been stretched so open by his fingers, by all of your orgasms over the past few hours, that he entered you with a delicious ease. The sloppy, wet squelch of his cock as he slid inside you would have made your cheeks burn if you’d had any sense left.

“Shit,” he moaned, one hand braced beside your head, fisting in the sheets. One rock of his hips and he was buried as deep as he could reach, your cunt clenching around him as if it were trying to keep him there. You were too exhausted to lift your legs and lock them around his hips. All you could do was gasp and accept him, your eyes rolled back as you hovered on the edge. “Nn, there you go, sweetheart. There we go. Nice and-and full. Hold on just a little longer for me. Open your mouth, honey.”

You parted your lips instantly, long past resisting, long past thinking.

His fingers stroked gently against your tongue a moment later, allowing you to take in the combined musky taste of yourself, the bitter richness of his cock, and how it mingled and melded with the taste of his skin.

“Suck for me like a good girl,” he murmured, his other hand rising to wipe away a few of your tears. Once that was done, he settled his hand around your throat, as if he wanted to feel it when you swallowed. “Go on, sweetheart. You can have it.”

You curled your tongue around his fingers, drawing them deep into your mouth with a grateful moan. The explosion of it across your tongue as you swallowed, the sheer obscenity of it, made you choke out a broken cry. His fingers were yanked back a moment later only to be replaced by his tongue snaking lazily into your open mouth, blatantly chasing your paired tastes with a filthy moan. All of it rolled up over you at once—his cock sliding up against that spot inside you, the whisper of pressure around your throat as his massive hand closed around it, the angle of his hips that let his body grind against your clit, the paired taste of you both filling your mouth as his tongue curled against yours, but…

It was the harsh scrape of his beard against your skin that pushed you over the edge.

Later, you wouldn’t remember the noise you made as you came, your body seizing as your orgasm slammed into you in one sudden rush. Your body went rigid, back bowing off the bed so sharply you felt something pop, your head thrown back as you lost yourself beneath a roaring tide of pleasure. Because this-this wasn’t something you rode, something you swam with, something that swept over you gently. This was something you survived, something you choked beneath, drowned beneath. You barely heard Matt’s shout, didn’t even notice the spreading heat as he came with you in slick pulses of warmth. You heard even less his slurred words of encouragement against your lips as your orgasm lingered in waves that just didn’t end, and you couldn't, you couldn't—

“There you go. Good girl, good girl, so good for me, let it all go sweetheart, I’ve got you, good gi—”

You weren’t quite sure where your mind went, then. But things cut out for a while.

How long you tapped out for was a mystery, the world around you faded into a soft black. All you knew was that when you finally floated back up from that quiet sea, your senses coming back to you one by one, Matt was there, your limp body cradled warmly against his chest. “Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, the sounds distant and still a little warped as he rocked you gently. He had to have untied you at some point, you thought blearily, since he was holding you now, his back against the headboard, your head tucked down against his neck. “Come on back, honey. Time to come back for me.”

You made a soft little noise of acknowledgement in your throat, all you really felt capable of at the moment, your eyes fluttering half open.

“Hi there, sweetheart,” he hummed, nuzzling down warmly against your hair. One of his hands swept steadily up and down your arm, sensation that helped ground you, along with the easy rhythm of his breathing as he held you, the rasp of his skin against yours. “There you are, my good girl. You did so good, honey. Now you’ve got it. Take it slow. Breathe with me."

“Mmm.”

"That works." He huffed a quiet laugh, tipping your slack head back until he could brush his lips against your forehead. Your head lolled against his shoulder, your body feeling a bit like all your bones had just up and wandered off. Maybe Matt had sucked them out of you. “I got eight out of you tonight if you can believe it. A new record.”

“It’s,” you slurred thickly, “the… beard. I love it.”

“I figured. And now I'm definitely going to keep it.” He nuzzled at you again, lifting one of your hands so he could knead gently at your wrist where you’d been tied. You'd probably have some bruises tomorrow considering how hard you'd yanked at the ties, but you'd wear them with pride. You always did. “And now you get the full aftercare treatment. Water, a snack, maybe a massage and a lot of cuddling before you fall asleep. I almost thought about drawing you a bath, but I’m not quite sure I trust you not to accidentally slide down into the water right now, even with me holding you.”

“...Fair.” You sleepily mashed your face against his throat, drawing the musky scent of sex and his skin deep into your lungs. You were still floating to a certain extent, your body sore and exhausted, but the comfort of his touch, the low rumble of his voice went a long way to soothing you. “Love you. Missed you.”

“I love you and missed you, too.” He pressed a fond kiss to your wrist, letting out a contented sigh. “Let’s avoid being apart for a while.”

“Agreed.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x f!reader #daredevil #matt murdock #fic #fanfic #reader fic #x reader #reader insert #ns/fw #tw: smut #tw: oral #this is filth please mind the warnings #daredevil: born again fic #matt's blatant oral fixation #i regret nothing

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yourstru1y4ever · 3 months ago

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Day 27 - A Hug That Lasts A Little Too Long

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 761 Content: Fluff! Season 1 DD I guess? Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: Another short one I’m sorry folks! I’m trying my best to catch up before October ends!! - YoursTruly

You knew Karen for as long as you’ve been in the city. . . which is to say not very long. You both moved into Hells Kitchen at the same time and since this was new to both of you, you became fast friends. She lived a few doors down from you but after she got attacked at her apartment, you asked if she wanted to move in with you.

She gave you a smile and accepted, leading you to meet two of her newest friends, Foggy and Matt, who were now helping her move in her things into your new shared apartment.

“This is your room just down the hall, I’m just a step away from you.” You laugh as you take one of the moving boxes down to Karen’s new room.

“I really appreciate it,” She tells you, not far from you holding a lamp. “I really didn’t want to stay in my old apartment, so I’m glad you have a spare room.”

“Yeah, I was supposed to room with a friend from college but he bailed on me,” You place the moving box down beside her bed, “He decided to move to Chicago with one of his other friends.”

“You made the right choice coming here!” Foggy says as he carries in a hefty looking box. When he sets it down on the ground, you can see that all that was inside were bedsheets and comforters.

You give him a side eye and he bristles, “What? I’m helping!”

“By choosing the lightest box Fog,” Matt calls out from your kitchen. He’s not carrying anything, but you weren’t expecting him to since he’s blind. He was just there for moral support and honestly he wanted to meet you.

You needed more friends in the city so you were more than happy to meet Foggy and Matt.

“There’s just a few more boxes left,” Foggy says as he leaves the room.

Karen nods, starting to follow him, “We should start thinking about grabbing some lunch soon, I’m starving.”

“Any recommendations Matt?” You ask, walking over to where he was sitting. He was sitting by your kitchen counter, drinking some ice water. You would have given him literally any other drink but unfortunately you needed to go grocery shopping.

“I’d honestly recommend the subs from the bodega that's two blocks away,” He says, starting to stand up. “I can get some while you guys finish up.”

“Are you sure? Here let me give you some money-”

“It’s alright, I can take care of this.” He says with a reassuring smile, you can’t help but smile back at him. There’s something about him that you want to keep learning more about, maybe you’ll ask for his number.

He quickly heads out as Karen and Foggy come back in, making a quick remark about how you’re not helping. Soon enough all of Karen’s things are moved into your now shared apartment and right before Foggy can complain about there not being any food for you all to eat Matt comes back carrying a bag with three different sandwiches.

You all get the chance to eat and soon enough they have to leave to start working on a case. You give them each a quick hug goodbye before they leave. You give Foggy a tight squeeze, telling him about needing to watch that TV show you recommended to him. When you hugged Matt goodbye, it felt different.

You were able to tell how toned he was just from that hug alone, and it made you curious as to why and how it made you feel so safe in his arms. For Matt he just wanted to keep sensing every little thing about you, how your heartbeat would increase around him, the faint floral scent from either the soap or shampoo you use, how soft you felt and he felt this want to protect you all of a sudden.

Neither of you realize how long the hug was lasting until Foggy loudly cleared his throat getting your attention. You pulled away from Matt blushing while Matt gave you a sheepish grin.

“I’m sorry,” He says, but you shake your head.

“Don’t be.” You mutter, looking down at the ground, unable to see the grin forming on his face.

Foggy grabbed him by his arm and had to shove Matt out the door so they could get back to work. You and Karen waved them goodbye and all you could think about was how you wanted to see Matt again, not realizing that you never got his number.

#tuna tober 2024 #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock fluff #daredevil x reader #daredevil fluff #matt murdock imagine #matthew murdock #foggy nelson #karen page

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firesunflamed · 1 year ago

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give it to me

relationship: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: You come home after a terrible, frustrating day at work. Luckily, Matt and Frank give you exactly what you need

warnings: NSFW, porn without plot, no use of y/n, established relationship, pet names used for reader: sweetheart, good girl, good little slut, brat!reader, sex toys, oral (m and f receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, light bondage, light dom/sub, objectification kink, light praise kink, some aftercare, cum-eating. You and Frank are kind of mean to each other but some of it's consensual and you apologize for what's not.

word count: 4.8k

a/n: happy national genocide day to everyone who's forced to deal with their shitty family today. i hope this helps you decompress lmao.

read it on ao3

Your day had been shit, and when you walked into the door of the apartment you shared with your partners, you wanted nothing more than to relax, to forget your day and let the weekend sweep away your stress.

“Sweetheart?” Frank called as you entered, and you toed off your shoes next to Matt’s before walking deeper into the apartment.

“Hey,” you called, and your voice sounded exhausted even to you.

“Dinner’ll be ready in an hour or so,” he said as you walked into the living space. “Go ahead and get changed, yeah?”

You nodded, even though he was facing away from you, and went to drop your work bag on the kitchen table when you found it covered in guns.

You knew about their work, loved them for how they kept the city safe as possible at their own expense. You knew that cleaning and fixing his firearms was part of that work. But you’d made it a policy that all weaponry had to be cleared from the kitchen table by the time you got home from work, thanks to one night a year ago when you’d gotten home and almost immediately sat down to dinner, only to pick up your napkin from the table and find gunpowder on it.

Frank was typically good at remembering. Still, seeing this now, after your already shitty day, turned frustration to anger. You meant to tell him, kindly, to please clean off the table before you sat down to dinner. Instead, what came out of your mouth was, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Frank put something in the oven then turned around to face you, face only just betraying his surprise. “What?”

You gestured angrily at the mess on the table. “What’s my rule? What’s my one fucking rule?”

“Yeah, I know, I was gonna clear it off once I got food in the oven. Got started a little late, and the lasagna takes an hour.”

“Dinner’s not even for another hour? Great!” you said rudely, already so hungry. “What were you even doing all day?” Frank didn’t work, not in the same sense as you and Matt. Though you’d never discussed it formally, he typically took care of most of the household tasks, and you were so grateful that it didn’t all fall to you. Now, though, you were pissed.

“Lost track of time,” he said, slowly, looking at you in confusion. “What, you want a snack?”

And you knew it was an apology, and a genuine offer. Still, all you heard in his voice was the condescension you’d just been subject to at work.

“Oh fuck off,” you snapped. “I’m not a child.”

He held up his hands in defense. “Never said you were, sweetheart.” He moved a step closer. “You alright?”

“Fine.” You turned to go to the bedroom to change, but Matt walked out at the same time, already out of his work clothes.

He walked closer to you, stopping a few feet away, head tilting. You knew he’d heard everything you’d just said, knew he’d clocked your mood just as well as Frank. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said gently. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Yeah?” he said, moving close enough to touch. His eyebrows were knit, mouth slightly open, and you knew he was trying to use every sign your body was giving to figure out what was wrong. “How was work?”

You didn’t want to think about work. You didn’t want to think.

“Fuck off,” you said, trying to find a way around him, but he reached out and grasped your upper arms, stopping you.

“I don’t think you want that,” he said, voice as gentle as his grasp.

You set your jaw, looked up at him. You could only imagine your expression was what Frank had once joked could scare off the people he and Matt went after before they got close enough to land a hit. You had the same rage under your skin as they did, just didn’t have the training or pain tolerance necessary to be a vigilante alongside them. It was part of what made your relationship work.

Matt stepped closer when you didn’t push him away, until your bodies brushed. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he said. “Tell me you don’t want this. We can go to the gym, and you can hit something until you feel better. Hit me, if you want.”

You stayed silent, still watching him, the soft hazel of his eyes, the pretty red of his lips. He reached up to cradle your cheek in his hand, thumb brushing across your lips. Then he leaned in, close enough to kiss. “Color?”

“Green,” you said, all certainty, and pulled him in. Your lips moved together as you pushed your body flush against his.

He tried to reach out to unzip your dress, but you were impatient, pushing down his sweatpants and his boxers, then pushing him to sit on the couch behind you both. You straddled him, pushing up the skirt of your dress as you did, grinding against his half-hard cock.

“Sweetheart,” he said against your mouth, breaths already coming fast. “How do you want this, tonight?”

“I don’t want to think anymore,” you said, trying to keep that anger in the face of the pleasure that shot through you at his touch. “Make it so I can’t think anymore.”

“Fuck,” Frank muttered from somewhere behind you, and you were only just aware of him moving to lean against the table and watch you both.

Matt agreed with him, groaning. “Okay,” Matt said. “Alright. I have to take off your underwear. Lean back on the couch.”

You didn’t want to, didn’t want to lose the skin contact, the feeling of his now fully-erect cock against your cunt. “Make me,” you said, and he grabbed your hips and half-pushed, half-lifted you so you lay on your back on the couch, him looming above you. He pulled off your panties, tipped you on your side to unzip and pull off your dress, then rid himself of his clothes before bracing one arm on the armrest behind you, another on the back of the couch, and positioning the head of his cock at your entrance.

He pushed it against you a few times, wanting to make sure you were wet enough. You hadn’t taken so much as a finger inside of you yet, and you knew that he didn’t want to hurt you. Not like this. Not without you asking for it. “Sweetheart, is it-”

“What are you waiting for?” you snapped. “Hurry up and fuck me.” The position made it hard, but you wrapped your legs around his waist, used them as leverage to bring him closer.

“Okay, okay,” he gasped, then sunk in with a groan, face going loose in pleasure. Typically, seeing how good you made him feel would’ve gotten you halfway to orgasm, but now it wasn’t enough, wasn’t near enough. You moved your hips against him, taking him in until he filled you.

Your mind went blessedly blank for a moment, but it didn’t last nearly long enough. You began moving against him again, angling your hips so his cock brushed along your g-spot with every thrust.

The feeling forced a low oh out of you, and Matt murmured, “you sound so pretty, sweetheart. Love hearing how good I make you feel.” But it was nice, and good, and not at all what you wanted. You wrapped your hands around his biceps, feeling the corded muscle there, and sped up your pace.

“Hey,” Frank said, and you looked around Matt’s lithe frame to see him watching you. The only indication that he was affected by the scene before him was the erection prominent against his jeans. “Don’t be a brat. You’ll take what you’re given.”

“I wouldn’t have to be a brat if Matt fucked me properly,” you said, and Matt seemed to remember himself and your request at both your words, picking up his pace, with deep, harsh thrusts, grunting with each movement. You moaned and moved your hands from his biceps, no longer needing the leverage it gave you, and dug your nails into his powerful back muscles. It chased the thoughts to the back of your head only temporarily, and then they came creeping back in, telling you that you were useless, powerless, not even capable of taking charge in the bedroom, much less a boardroom.

You used the leverage of your legs to try to bring Matt down, try to flip him onto his back. He let you move him so you were on top, let you brace your hands against his shoulders and ride him with abandon. “Guess I have to take care of everything myself,” you said. You grabbed one of Matt’s hands and put it on your clit. “Get me off,” you ordered, and he began playing with it, knowing in the way he always did that this was what you needed. You rarely took the reins in the bedroom, but he admitted once that he loved when you did. Obediently, he played with your clit, finding the rhythm that had you moaning, and you fucked yourself on his cock like it was a toy until you felt your orgasm cresting. “Fill- me-“ you gasped, and came with a low noise. He kept up the movements of his hips and his fingers through your aftershocks, spilling within you with a pretty moan.

You rested against him for a moment, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of completeness as you both caught your breath.

Then arms reached for you, dragging you off of him. “You’re too nice to her, Red,” Frank said as he threw you over his shoulder and walked you to the bedroom. “Good sluts need to be ordered around, yeah?”

Typically, you would’ve said yes in an instant, would’ve let him take charge. You liked being the one to control Matt every now and then, but that was easy, with how pretty he was, the way he so rarely let his rage loose with you. Frank was different. Outside of the bedroom, he would never try to control you, rarely even raised his voice. It was only when you were naked beneath him that he let the need to possess, to claim, run loose.

But now, you were still tired from the day and overstimulated from how hard you had just fucked Matt. “Wait, Frank…”

He dropped you roughly on the bed. “If you’re talking, you’re thinking, yeah? Said you didn’t want that.” He unbuttoned his pants, pushing them off, and you moved up to your elbows to watch his erection spring free, head already pink and tip weeping. You felt that telltale dip of attraction in your stomach. Still, you couldn’t let go of control that easily.

“I don’t see how you think you’re gonna be able to fuck me any better than Matt,” you snipped, and he pulled back from where he had begun to crawl on the bed. “We both know he’s better than you.”

His expression turned hard, and when he spoke next it was low, angry. You had him right where you wanted him. “Get up,” he said, and you pushed yourself off the bed to stand next to him. He pointed at his feet. “Get on your knees.”

“No.”

He let lose an angry breath. “Come home, giving me shit. Ask for us to fuck you, still giving me shit. You need a fucking attitude adjustment.”

“I need another orgasm. Sucking you off isn’t going to do it.”

“You get what I’m giving you. You want to come again, stop misbehaving.” He spun you around by the hips, wrapped an arm around your waist then kicked your legs out from beneath you. He set you on your knees, and you steadied yourself on the edge of the bed. He moved to sit down on the bed and buried a hand in your hair before moving your mouth closer to the tip, pushing it against your lips and then inside.

You did your best to glare at him through the stretch of it, through the way his eyes went half-closed in pleasure, through his grunts. It was hard to stay mad when you had to focus on relaxing your jaw, on breathing around the thick length of him. It was even harder staying mad, knowing that you were making him feel this good. Feeling your own body react to being used like this, a tool for his pleasure.

Still, after a minute or so you pulled back, sucking and licking just on the head of his cock before letting him go altogether. His eyes snapped back open, and he glared at you. “What’re you doin’?” he said. “Didn’ say you were done.”

You began to stand. “I said I’m done.”

He pushed you back down by your shoulders. “Red,” he said, and you turned, realized that Matt must’ve stepped into the bedroom while you’d been going down on Frank. He now sat, still naked, on the extra chair in the corner of the room. “Grab me the ties. Guess she needs some extra encouragement to do as she’s told tonight.”

You watched from your knees as Matt smiled, then walked over to the top drawer of your dresser and pulled out the silk ties. “And grab me the vibrator, too,” Frank said. “The pink one.”

Matt threw an unimpressed look over his shoulder. “Which one?”

“C’mon. You know. The one for her clit that she likes.”

Your breath caught as you realized what Frank was planning, and Matt chuckled. “Oh, she liked that,” Matt said, and walked over to you. He set the vibrator on the bed then knelt, tying your wrists together behind you. You glanced between the vibrator and Frank’s cock. You didn’t use toys often but kept a small handful for when life got in the way, and for moments like this. The one Matt had grabbed was your favorite, capable of making you come in ninety seconds flat.

Matt grabbed the vibrator off the bed, and you spread your legs a bit to let him position it at your clit. You closed your legs again to keep it in place. He kept a finger on the bottom button to power it on, and you tensed, ready for the vibrations. “Frank’s going to fuck your mouth the way he wants,” Matt said, that velvet tone so different from Frank’s rough timbre, and you found yourself nodding in agreement before you’d even processed his words. “And you’re going to come, just like you want.” He dropped his other hand to your bound ones, tapped once against your skin. Green?

“Fuck you,” you said, trying desperately to keep that anger when the only thought in your head was how good they were about to make you feel. Matt put his hand against your fingers and you tapped once, clearly. Green.

He turned on the toy, and a moan ripped out from you before Frank pushed his cock into your mouth, fucking into it so fast and so deep that you couldn’t keep up, drool spilling from your lips. You moaned at the endless sensation against your clit, against the feeling of being used by him, and then he pushed far enough into your throat that you lost your air supply and your thoughts with it. You came so hard your vision whited out, your body going loose against him.

Frank slowed his pace, but the toy didn’t stop. “This what you wanted, sweetheart?” Frank said, half a grunt. “My cock in your mouth. Coming all over yourself.” You whimpered around him. It was too much. You never wanted it to stop. “Yeah. You’re a good little slut. ‘Course you want it.”

Frank pulled your mouth off his cock, but you quickly came again from the vibrations and his words. The world had gone soft around the edges, just as you wanted it. “Fran’… Ma’…” you slurred, not quite able to make the consonants. “Feel so goo’…”

You felt a hand between your legs, then a second later the toy turned off and was pulled away from you. “Wai…”

A pair of hands grabbed your upper arms and pulled you up, and you were too far gone to stop the moan that came as you rubbed your thighs together, feeling your slick and Matt’s cum coating them. You were pulled onto the bed, and moved around like a doll until you were on your back, hands unbound, muscles too weak to move.

Then, a form covered your own, a large hand grabbed your jaw, and you opened your eyes hazily to find Frank staring down at you. “Gonna come inside you now. S’what you want, yeah?”

You tried at a yes, and he pushed inside you with the same force he’d just taken your mouth. You were already so overstimulated, but he kept his hands off your clit, instead thrusting inside you desperately. You realized that he hadn’t come yet. “Fran’- please- inside me-” you begged. “Wan’ your cum. Please.”

He managed a few more thrusts before he moaned, his seed spilling inside of you. You closed your eyes and hummed in delight at the feeling. He collapsed half on you, not pulling out as he started to soften.

“Frank.” Matt’s voice came, and you looked up to see him kneeling beside you, a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Let me taste her. Please.”

Frank nodded against you, then pulled away. Matt took his place, broad shoulders holding your legs apart. His hot breath brushed over the sensitive skin of your upper thighs. “You smell so good, sweetheart. Smell like him, like me. Love how you trust us to use you like this.”

“Ma’-“ you gasped, tried rutting your hips, but he moved his arm to hold them down, the pressure only increasing your arousal. “Please.”

“You’re insatiable,” he murmured, moving from your upper thighs to your cunt, lips brushing against your skin. “How many times do we have to get you off before you’re satisfied?”

That cut through the haze enough to reignite the anger. “Until I say so,” you snapped, and buried your hands in his hair to move him closer to your pussy.

He laughed, the feeling shooting through you, and then began to lap at the cum spilling from you. You moaned, eyes falling shut, and let him taste you as he wanted. You knew Matt loved this, would go down on both you and Frank without either of you even asking for it. It was one of his favorite things to do when you and Frank started a movie or a TV show marathon, seeing how long he could go down on you without making you come, or seeing how many times he could get Frank off in a short amount of time. You could never say no to him, not for this.

His tongue pushed inside you, the feeling and the obscene sounds that came with it enough to bring you close to another orgasm. His tongue slid out, and then he wrapped his lips around your opening and sucked, your back arching off the bed at the sudden, unfamiliar sensation. It took you a second to realize that he was sucking both of their cum out of you, tasting the three of you together. Based on the way he was grinding against the mattress, he must like it.

Matt went back to lapping at your cunt, and your body dropped with him, panting. A hand suddenly cupped your breast, rolling your nipple between two fingers. You opened your eyes to find Frank sitting next to you, hungrily watching the bud darken with his touch. “Fran’-k” you managed.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Feel goo’,” you sighed, eyes slipping closed.

You could hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, yeah I know. There’s my good girl. Just needed my cock, and she calmed right down, huh?”

That was a challenge if you’d ever heard one. You opened your eyes again, pushed Matt’s face deeper in your cunt, taking control again. “Like hell it was. You’re lucky Matt’s so good with his mouth.”

For the first time since he’d started going down on you, Matt moved up to suck on your clit. Hard.

Frank kissed you, tongue sweeping into your mouth as both his hands cupped your breast, pinched your nipples, and your body contracted against him, his weight keeping you down as another orgasm rolled through you. Matt didn’t stop his motions through it, eagerly cleaning up your juices.

Your mind had gone blank again, the challenge Frank had thrown down forgotten. There was more movement around you, the loss of Matt’s mouth from your cunt, Frank’s body lifting from away. You wanted them to stay but couldn’t so much as whimper.

“On your hands and knees, sweetheart,” Matt’s voice came, and you felt hands turn you over onto your stomach. You tried lifting yourself up, got one hand underneath yourself, but fell back onto the mattress. “I want to fuck you again. Do you want that?”

Yes yes yes yes. You couldn’t form the words, couldn’t make a noise.

There was movement, and your breath caught in anticipation, but it was only one of their fingers, tapping once against your shoulder. Green?

An arm found its way beneath one of your hands, and you tapped once. Green.

The arm beneath your hands disappeared, and then another wrapped around your waist and pulled you up. You managed to get your knees and hands beneath you, wanting to feel them inside you again.

A hand steadied you on your hip, and you recognized it as Matt’s, thanks to the scar on the tip of his forefinger. He pushed inside, fast and rough. It shook loose a moan from your chest, a “yes” following it.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Frank rumbled, and it took you a moment to follow the order. He sat in front of you, pushing your sweaty hair away from your face. He tipped your chin up, forced you to make eye contact. “You should see her, Red. Looks so pretty when she’s ruined like this. Not a single fucking thought in her head, just our good little slut.”

That got another noise out of you, eyes slipping closed again. “Hey, did I say you could do that?” Frank said, and you opened your eyes again. All your anger, all your desire to take control, had fled with your last orgasm. You were fully theirs, now. Theirs to use. “Good girl,” he praised, and you moaned, gasping as Matt continued to fill you roughly, cruelly, through the overstimulation they’d caused. “So fucking pretty. Keep your mouth open, yeah. Just like that.”

Out of your peripheral vision, you could see Frank beginning to stroke himself, cock proud against his stomach, and you felt yourself begin to drool, imagining him filling your mouth again, this time as Matt fucked you from behind. You couldn’t find the words to ask.

Frank reached up a hand to cup your cheek, thumb pressing into your mouth, and you took what you could get, sucking at it eagerly. He tasted like sex, like his cum, like you.

You moaned, keeping your eyes on Frank as you sucked his finger, Matt rutting into you. One of Matt’s hand’s reached around to stroke your cunt, and you began moving your hips against him as another orgasm crested, his pace faltering until he came inside you again. You followed him a moment later.

Frank moved his thumb from your mouth and stood, disappearing behind you, and you closed your eyes, reveling in the pleasure of your peak. Matt pulled out, and you hummed happily, until you felt the head of Frank’s cock pushing at your entrance.

And it was so much, too much, you’d just come, you couldn’t- couldn’t-. You whimpered and tried crawling up the bed, away from the pressure, but his hands grabbed your hips and dragged you back to him. You thrashed in his grip. “No no no, Frank- can’t please no-“

His form caged yours in, voice rough in your ear. “You don’t have a choice, you hear me? Don’t have a single goddamn choice. Were bad earlier. Gotta be reminded who’s in charge here, yeah? Now be a good little slut and take my cock.”

You whimpered as he mounted you, the overstimulation painful.

“Wait, Frank-” Matt suddenly said, and Frank stilled. “Color, sweetheart.”

“Gree-!“ you gasped, and Frank grunted and pounded into you with deep, quick thrusts, hands holding your hips in place. The overstimulation quickly went from painful to pleasurable, and your hands dropped out from under you, face against the mattress. You were powerless against the waves of sensation, against his control.

Finally, your brain went quiet. It was what you’d been chasing since you came home, and you let it wash over and through you, taking you away.

When you came back to yourself, you were on your side between them. You blinked open your eyes, finding Frank looking at you. “Mm.”

He smiled. “Hey.”

You closed your eyes and nuzzled into his chest. “How long was I gone?”

“Not long.”

“You came again?”

“Yeah.” They’d cleaned you off at least, that much you could tell.

“Was that what you needed?” Matt asked from behind you.

“Yeah,” you sighed happily. “Thank you. Both of you.” You pressed a gentle kiss to Frank’s lips, then rolled over to give one to Matt as well.

You were all quiet for a long minute, enjoying the others’ presence. Matt finally said, “Are you ready to talk to us about work now?”

You sighed, kept your eyes closed. “It’s stupid.”

Matt hummed. “That’s the fifth time you’ve bratted in the three years we’ve been together. It’s not stupid.”

It took you a second to find the words. “Remember how I had that big presentation? That I had to give to the CEO of my company?” You’d been working on this project for several months, and you were so proud of it. It could change the way your company did business, and your research suggested that it might increase your revenue fivefold. Even being a lower-level worker in the company, your manager had been so impressed she’d passed it up the chain, and it’d gone all the way to land you in front of the e-suite. You’d put on the dress and heels that made you feel powerful, and walked in ready to wow.

“I walked into that presentation, and everyone ignored me. They didn’t realize I was who they were hearing from. The CEO asked me to get them coffee.”

Matt’s hand moved to your waist, thumb brushing against your skin to comfort. Frank gave a quiet, angry, “shit.”

“I gave them my name, explained why I was there, and they let me give my presentation.” The entire time, they’d seemed to be looking at your body more than your slideshow. When they weren’t checking their phones, that was. “And then afterwards, he said he would ‘think about it,’” you said, impersonating his tone. They’d made it clear that it was a no, that your idea wasn’t worth shit to them. All that stress, those months of work, for nothing.

Frank said, “do you want me to kill them?”

And you knew if you said yes, Frank would do it in a heartbeat. You also knew that Matt would never forgive you for it. “No, sweetheart.” you said. “I don’t want them dead, I just wish they hadn’t… hadn’t made me feel so useless.”

“You’re not useless,” Matt said, with conviction. “Sweetheart, if you were useless, Frank and I would’ve been dead fifteen times over. If they make you feel that way, then you don’t have to stay with them. We have the savings if you want to quit and find a new job.”

And you laughed, blinked back your grateful tears. He meant it, every word. You stitched them together night after night, watched them hurt themselves for other’s peace. You didn’t ask them for that, so they gave you this instead: unconditional support. Endless love. “I think I need to calm down, a bit. I’ll see how I feel on Monday.” You hesitated, then said, “thank you.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Matt said. You smiled again, eyes slipping shut, and then an alarm went off.

You all startled, and Frank pulled away from you, standing. “Fuck, that’s the timer for the lasagna.” You’d forgotten about dinner. “I’m gonna go set the table. I’ll make sure to wipe it down, sweetheart.”

You rolled over to look at him. “I’m sorry I yelled, Frank. I was angry at them, and I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.”

He smiled at you. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

#frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #frank castle smut #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #reader insert #my fic

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farfromstrange · 2 years ago

Text

Sub Space | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Requested by @taliaxxb !

Summary: After a particularly rough session with Matt, you slip into a different headspace.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, multiple orgasms, rough sex, degradation, subspace, sub drop, overstimulation, aftercare

Word Count: 1.9k

A/n: Thank you so much for your request, my love, and I hope you like this! Since you left me the choice, I chose reader to go into subspace, but I did mention Matt going through it too in the past. Once again, my tag list goes for requested fics now too.

Sex with Matt often varies. There are times he’s gentle, savoring every second and swallowing every single one of your moans with fiery kisses that leave your mind reeling. His thrusts are hard and slow then, always making sure you can feel him everywhere, but he doesn’t push past what both of you need.

Sometimes, you make love. You hold hands and you get lost in each other’s eyes – as much as that is possible.

But then there are times he tears your clothes right off and pounds into you like a madman, or he asks you to do the same to him. He takes control because he needs it, or he craves for you to be in control because he can’t keep up with the thoughts in his head anymore; sometimes, he needs an escape, and sometimes, you do, and then there are times that you both desperately need a break and it’s less sensual than it is wild fucking that almost breaks the bed and wakes the neighbors in the middle of the night.

Your sex life never grows boring, and you value his attention to detail which never leaves you dissatisfied. He makes sure you enjoy yourself, and he does it perfectly. You often ask yourself if he’s real, but then you get to touch him and you’re reminded that he chose you and you chose him and that’s all that matters because you’re more than real to each other.

Tonight is one of those nights where he’s come home after patrol, his suit cleaner than usual, and that tells you his night has been rather quiet – it frustrates him often, and there is a lot of adrenaline left for him to let out. His body quivers with it. He needs to let go of all of his anger and he needs to do it fast, so you know that falling back asleep is not something you want to do. He needs you in all the ways he can get like an animal in the wild. And you are more than willing to give it to him. His heaving chest and the look in his eyes are enough to get you worked up, to say the least.

Your hands are tied to each side of the headboard, the fabric of the rope burning against your wrists as you try for the millionth time to move out of them. Matt is pounding into your abused cunt, and his words are like sweet poison in your ear. One second, you are his good girl, and the next you are a “filthy slut who’s only good to have her holes filled.” And he’s dragged four orgasms out of you already, your body and your mind feel like they’re floating in a space far away.

Your velvety walls hug him so perfectly, but you’re tired and his cock brushes against your G-spot at an agonizing speed. You clench around him, your fifth orgasm of the night not far away. His hand collides with your ass cheek as he tells you to hold it. God, you try, but it’s so hard with the way he’s handling you. His hands are everywhere now, one around your throat while the other is still grabbing at your red ass cheeks, and the coil in your stomach multiplies to the point you can only cry. With every rigorous thrust, your clit bumps against the pillow under your pelvis. The ropes leave their indentations, but no matter how much you beg, he won’t let you go. His weight keeps the rest of you tied down, so now you can’t even move your legs anymore. It’s all so good yet so bad, and it hurts. You can’t hold it anymore, you’re sure you’re going to die soon, but then he pulls at your hair and his voice sounds nothing like the sweet Matt he can be when he growls, “Don’t fucking cum!” It’s a threat.

You shiver. “Please,” you beg, but your voice betrays you.

“Aw, listen to yourself. You’re so cockdrunk already. That’s pathetic. Your pussy is mine, do you understand?” He tugs harder at your hair, the pain mingling with the pleasure. “I said, do you understand?”

“Yes!” you cry out. “God, yes! But I can’t–”

“Yes, you can. Be a good girl for me or I won’t let you cum at all.”

At this point, you’re not sure if that wouldn’t be a good thing.

He keeps pounding into you, and his thrusts grow even harder. You can only lay there and take what he gives you and hope he doesn’t punish you too much if you do happen to disappoint him.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Matt takes a whiff of your skin. You smell like sex, sweat, and despair.

You nod weakly.

“Can’t even take my cock like a good little slut?”

You’re not sure when it happens, but at some point, your brain shuts off and you find yourself in a weird middle space where the dream and the reality of the situation blur, and the pleasure overshadows your ability to think with heavy fog.

You drop, and you can’t find your way back out.

Minutes start to feel like hours. Your body spasms with the orgasm that ripples through you. It sets your nerve endings on fire. The silk sheets burn against your skin, but you can’t move. Matt’s cum feels sticky as it trickles out of you, his body heavy on yours. You feel suffocated.

He calls your name, but you can’t answer.

He’s quick to pull out and untie your wrists, his once so-dark features now riddled with concern.

You zone out.

“Sweetheart,” he tries to coax you out of it by rolling you onto your back. “Hey, look at me.”

Your chest deflates.

“C’mon.”

Wherever your mind is stuck, you can only hear him, but you can’t answer. You’re paralyzed to the point you even forget how to breathe.

He feels the heat radiating off of you and how the oxygen gets stuck in your throat. His hand hovers above your chest. You’re panting. “Baby, breathe,” Matt urges you.

How do you breathe again?

“Listen to my voice. You’re okay. It’s over. You did so well…”

On any other day, the praise would have gone straight to your head, but right now you’re shaking, quivering and you can’t breathe, and that makes it impossible for his words to take their usual effect.

“In and out,” he says.

You try to focus on his voice this time.

In and out and in and out.

The pulse between your legs jumps. Your clit is so sensitive, even the air on it hurts. You clench your legs, your face contorting in an expression of pain. But even the motion itself hurts. It hurts while at the same time, it sends shockwaves of a much higher caliber through your being.

Eventually, your breathing evens out, his words guiding your lungs back to the point of functionality.

“There you go. Good girl,” he says. He reaches beside himself and grabs the water bottle you often keep there for your nightly thirst.

“Here, drink.” Matt guides it to your lips. “I need you to get some water into your body, sweetheart. Please. You’re dehydrated.”

He’s not wrong. You take a few hesitant sips, your throat thanking you in the process.

“Can I touch you now?”

You don't know much, but this you know. You shake your head.

He nods. He understands what it’s like to feel like you’re being tortured by even the softest brush of fingertips. The sex was rough and he went further than you usually do when he’s not fully himself, but you both agreed to this, and you didn’t want to use your safeword because you didn’t need it. This wasn’t his fault, it’s your brain that has slipped into a black hole and blurry oblivion, and that’s all hormonal, you know.

“I’m gonna get a towel and clean you up now, okay?�� he breaks the silence.

You don’t trust your voice just yet, so you just nod. He reads your body language like an open book.

As he comes back from the bathroom, he starts wiping you down with a warm towel, making sure not to touch your overly sensitive areas just yet. He’s careful, extremely gentle, and every once in a while he listens to your heartbeat as if to check if you’re still conscious.

When it comes to treating the burns on your wrists, he uses the aloe you have often used in situations like these and starts applying it to the wounds. The guilt is written all over his face, but you don’t have it in yourself to comfort him. You couldn’t have even if you tried.

You’re not sure for how long you just lie there, but it must have been a while. Matt finishes cleaning you up, wrapping you in the blanket, before returning to your side. His unfocused eyes are directed at you, and you can tell from the look on his face that he’s watching you in his own unique way.

This has happened before. Once, to be exact. You were trying out a particularly rough kind of breath play and the things he did to you released so much dopamine, you found yourself drained, and you disappeared on him. It’s been a while since then, maybe that’s why he looks so worried.

He can’t deny that it hasn’t happened to him before either because it has, but with Matt, it is often overstimulation that puts him into sub-space, and it takes a lot more to coax him out of it because every time he slips, his body is on fire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he strokes a strand of hair out of your face.

You finally meet his eyes, and your breathing has returned to normal. You’re tired, and every muscle in your body aches, but you’re aware of your surroundings now. Your thoughts have sorted themselves out.

“I was too rough tonight.”

“No,” you manage to say.

“Yes,” Matt shakes his head, “I was.”

“I’m…okay.” It’s not a lie, you just feel… weird.

His thumb strokes over your cheekbone. “Where did you just go?”

“I don’t know. Just… too much.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am now.”

He takes your hand in his and you return the sentiment before curling into his side. It’s like you need him to breathe. Your demeanor changes and there is nothing you want more than to be close to him right now. There is a fine line between overstimulation and being needy, and now you just need to be held because it feels weird to be so empty and yet fulfilled at the same time. Your brain is fuzzy. You don’t know a lot, but you know you need him, and he would never hurt you.

It’s a natural response, and Matt knows that too, deep down.

He holds you close to him, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “What do you need?” he asks.

“Just hold me,” you whisper. “That’s all.”

“Okay…”

“And then a shower.”

“Okay,” he says.

Your lips part as you get lost in his embrace. “I love you,” you say.

“I love you too,” and Matt leans down to press another gentle kiss to your sweaty forehead.

He’s here for you and he always will be, which is exactly why you feel safest in his arms. And when the same thing happens to him, you won’t hesitate to do the same for him.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @lina-mar @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x you #no y/n #matt murdock smut #daredevil smut #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x f!reader #female reader #daredevil x reader #lizzi writes #request

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kalinara · 3 months ago

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(X-Men #14, Fall of the House of X #1, X-Men #1 - 2024)

So one of the things that I've been wanting to blog about since I went back to my origins to be a full on Cyclops-centered comics blog again, is how delightful (and maybe a bit delightfully dysfunctional) I find the modern Jean Grey and Scott Summers relationship.

You probably have an idea of where this is going already, given the number of top/bottom jokes I've made about the two. (Technically they're probably domme/sub jokes, but it's funnier to use the other terms. Also, I'm pretty sure they engage in telekinetic pegging.)

So I'm putting it behind a cut, because it's long and rambly, and with additional scans. But nothing in it should be a surprise.

Anyway it really is genuinely fascinating to me.

First of all, I'm very happy with the modern, and I think ORIGINAL, interpretation of the Jean Grey - Phoenix relationship, where the Phoenix is, always has been, and always will be, a part of Jean Grey herself. I always thought the possession/replacement story was unnecessary, and it's far more interesting to look at it as Jean all along.

But more importantly, given my focus, is that I'm delighted at how this has shaken out into this absolutely fascinating Goddess-Mortal dynamic between these two characters.

I chose the panels that I did for this post, because I feel like they really illustrate Scott's side of their relationship dynamic. You have poor Jean, who fears her power and what she might do, and constantly tries to atone for the damage she'd done in the past when she'd lost control of herself* (and I want to get back to the Dark Phoenix Saga, in a bit). And then you have Scott, whose reaction to the fact that his wife is maybe the most powerful being in the universe appears to be "my wife can beat up the entire universe, and it is fucking awesome!"

I mean look at these panels. The first one is from Judgment Day, a story that could prompt so much meta in its own right. We've seen how the Progenitor works at this point - he judges the vast majority of people and finds them wanting. A lot of times the root of his judgment seems to be based either on the character's own guilt and sense of failure (see e.g. Steve Rogers and Matt Murdock), or their complete apathy and disinterest in improvement (see: Charles Xavier). Scott seems like a sitting duck for the first kind of judgment: he IS prone to self-hatred and is haunted by his bad decisions and mistakes.

But he does something unexpected: he denies that the Progenitor has any right to judge him at al. He's willingly given that authority to only one person. And she's not here right now. And he PASSES.

Sadly, the Progenitor does end up throwing this back onto Jean during HER test:

(A.X.E. - X-Men #1)

Sadly, Scott's dead right now and not really able to clarify. But we as readers can go back and look at that top panel. That is not a man who is petrified of his wife. He may well sleep in the lair of the red dragon, but he LIKES it that way.

Basically, Scott Summers passed his Judgment Day test for being a massive submissive. And I love that.

And we see the "only my wife can judge me/would you like to meet her" thing again when Scott's on trial in Fall of the House of X.

And it's fascinating in context, because only a few issues before, he and Jean were on the outs, and she basically DOES judge him:

(It's probably wrong how hot I find it when she holds back his powers like that. It's like power-bondage or something.)

Anyway, this is from X-Men #23. In two issues, he'll be captured. She'll be DEAD. And everything goes straight to Hell. And yeah, they've implicitly resolved their issues before hand (since he's agreeing to leave the X-Men with her in Hellfire Gala), but it's still very sudden.

But in that panel, up there, he has no doubts at all. They were on the outs. She's dead. He's been tortured. And still, facing a kangaroo court, he's completely unwavering in his faith in her.

It's lovely.

Sentimentality aside, the key takeaway here is that he's not afraid of her. Even now, when she's fully integrated her power and is up in space re-igniting stars, he's not afraid of her. I'm actually not sure if he was even afraid of her in the Dark Phoenix Saga. Afraid FOR her, yes. And he certainly recognized when she lost it and tried to talk her down (and seemed to be succeeding, until Xavier interrupted!).

We do see, at one single point, Scott express any kind of feeling of inferiority to Jean. And that's in that truly delightful From the Ashes, Infinity storyline where, when she's freeing him from telepathic captivity, he shows her the hidden files in his mind - how he'd fantasized about them growing old together, and how he knows that won't happen now.

(I love the infinity comics, but it's so hard to blog with them, you know?)

But yeah, Scott's one point of vulnerability with regard to the inequality in their relationship has nothing to do with power. He just doesn't want to be forgotten.

So anyway, I included the last scan because, vulnerable issues aside, overall, he really does seem to enjoy the fact that his wife is the more powerful cavalry, who'll happily come to save and/or avenge him and is very happy to use that against anyone he wants.

It's cute and even a little childish in a fascinating way. "My dad can beat up your dad." Only it's wife, instead of dad.

(Look, I've already done the meta about Scott Summers dating people who parallel his many abusive father figures. The fact that both Emma Frost and Jack Winters have unbreakable diamond alternate forms ALONE...well...)

But we are talking about a man who hadn't really been a child since the day his parents' plane crashed, who bounced from abusive situation to abusive situation, without any hope of rescue (even from the father who was STILL ALIVE in space somewhere). It must be an incredibly heady feeling to be able to say, "YES, my wife is bigger than you and will ALWAYS come to save me."

It might be a bit of a gender subversion on the whole historical romance novel premise of the abused servant girl getting to run off with the warlord who would kill everyone who looked at her wrong.

(I also suspect there's an element of "Okay, fuck it. Everyone's blamed me for everything for so long, including me, that I'm just going to bend over and let HER punish me. And that's IT.")

As for what Jean gets out of the deal, well, she's got someone who will never be afraid of her, who admires every time she lets loose with her power, and thinks she's beautiful and amazing, and helps keep her connected with her past, her self and humanity, not by trying to rein her in, but by providing her with basic human comforts (like an unnecessary space ship), simply to make her happy.

Let's just hope that nothing ever happens to him. Because, well, as I've said before, the thing that most adaptations miss about the Dark Phoenix Saga, is that it's never been about a woman being too powerful for anyone's good. It's about a woman who gets repeatedly gaslit, manipulated, mentally fucked around with, who then watches the man she love get hurt and (apparently) die without being able to do anything about it.

...well, I'm a whump fan who likes seeing powerful ladies wreak havoc to rescue hurt and vulnerable men. So I know what I would like to see happen...

#scott summers #cyclops #jean grey #phoenix #this might be an incredibly incoherent relationship manifesto #I couldn't actually think of an ending for this so there you go #that man can't top a pool deck

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 10 months ago

Note

lazy sex w sub matt pleasee? 😩

ps.: love ur blog 💐

hii!! yup yup love it!! ps love u!! thanks for requesting hope you like it💌

FEW MINUTES SPARE.

matt murdock x fem!reader — smut

word count. 380

warnings. 18+ brief mention of masturbation, pinv, creampie (such a gross word lol) sorta subby matt. mdni

note. had an issue with posting smut, and it wouldn’t show up. so hopefully it’s fine now

Exhaustion is often a shared issue with you and Matt. Between your days of work and his nightly patrols, time together was short and sparse. So you would utilise every few minutes you had available.

You had spent the last twenty minutes prepping yourself for Matt's arrival home from patrol - your fingers leisurely dipping into your pussy, making sure you were all raring and ready to go.

You had Matt laid flat on the couch, his black suit disregarded in a messy trail from the fire escape steps to the coffee table - both of you almost bare. You straddled him, his cock snug inside as you wind over him: slow, tired bounces with your hands resting atop his chest, using him for stability.

Matt's hands paw at your thighs, his fingers spread wide - digging into the soft, doughy flesh of you. It was like he was gripping onto you to ground himself, using touch to keep him present during his almost delirious state. Both of you far too tired to be indulging one another.

You slump over him, chest pressed into his as you continue your sporadic, lazy winds - hips rolling down onto him with no real pace or pattern. Just half, little bounce over the head of his cock.

His arms wrap around you, holding you to him - face buried in the crook of your neck like yours is to him. His lips brushing against the base of your neck, uneven, faint moans slipping past.

"Gonna cum," Matt muffles, fingers digging into the middle of your back.

"I know," you whisper in reply, keeping the same 'pace' - working over the tip of his dick with your walls. You could feel him right there, his cock almost twitching inside of you.

You press faint, brushed kisses into his cheek and along his jaw as he cums, littering his skin with warmth - giving him the love he needs as your cunt milks him of his cum.

You didn't even get to finish, but that didn't seem to matter to you right now. Both of you far too spent to worry, enjoying the closeness and intimacy of it all - eyes fluttering closed as you snuggle into Matt. His cock still nicely tucked inside of you.

this definitely isn't my best, apologies

#💐#matt murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil #daredevil smut #daredevil x reader

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frankcastlescumslut · 2 years ago

Text

this is a shame free space <3333

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.”

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