greetings weary traveler <3 welcome to my blog, a safe space for all my creeps, freaks and weirdos. make yourself at home darling, be warned that not everything is safe for young eyes. peruse with caution. for the content here is darker than the rest and not all of it is safe for minors eyes. you are still welcomed with open arms to explore my blog and take solace knowing thereâs someone just as strange as you.
all my stuff has been really dark recently so take some bear!patrick stump wholesomeness (kinda) iâve finally started the offical sequel to my jerktrick headcanons too yayyy!! erm not sure what warnings to put besides nsfw content so yeahhh
âpatience love,iâll be done soon. iâm surprised youâve held on so longâ. patrick chucked , planting a small kiss on your neck. âsuch a good girl just for meâ. despite your squirming his focus remained on his computer screen. he had a dead line to fulfill and he could flat you distract him.
it had been almost an hour and poor little y/n was getting tired of being patient. âi donât know much longer i can hold on patâŚiâm falling apartâ.
he clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. âhmm, what happened to the good little girl who said she would sit in my lap- nice and still till iâm done my workâ? patrick could feel how close you were, he just wanted to hear you beg for it.
your entire body felt as if it was engulfed in flames. the sensation of his cock buried deep inside you mixed with his large hands placed firmly on either side of your waist was borderline intoxicating. but youâd do anything to please him. so you kept still just liked he asked.
âiâm so close to being done sweet heart just a little longerâ.
Summary : Sukuna hasnât spoken to his situationship in three days. Upset, she threatens to go seek another man.Â
cw: p & v, smut, rough, begging, degradation, breedingÂ
a/n: my first fanfic!! I hope you enjoy it. let me know what you thinkÂ
pârn link
Three daysâŚ
Itâs been three whole days and you havenât heard from your situationship, Ryomen Sukuna. Things have been weird between you two. One day it seems heâs all about you and the next it seems like he canât even be bothered. You understand the king of curses is busy harassing and terrorizing innocent people and villages, but you also understand that you deserve clear communication. Youâve been texting and calling non stop since he left your house after a movie night and itâs been cricketsÂ
âI just canât believe him. This time Iâm done. No matter what excuse he has, I am done!âÂ
This was your sixth rant youâve had with your best friend. Youâve gone through all the stages of a break up. Anger, sadness, denial and now you are at acceptance. Completely done with his antics and just wanted to wash your hands clean. After all itâs been almost a year of you dealing with Sukuna and he still is afraid to make things official.Â
Just then you heard your doorcode being put into your small one bedroom apartment and the lock turning. To your surprise you see a relaxed and honestly very good looking Sukuna . You had given him the door code expecting for him to take the next steps with you, only for him to invade your privacy with the excuse of âthere is no privacy with meâ. Heâs staring down at you almost waiting for you to come running into his arms.Â
âGirl, let me call you back.â you say quickly before hanging up the phone. The silence was heavy and long almost to see who would break first.Â
âYou didnât miss me, Brat?â he spat. Voice low and smooth sending a slight chill up your spine. You hated the nickname at first but with time you learned that it was something he only called you and soon grew to love it.Â
âWhere have you been Ryomenâ Calling him by that name only when you are upset with himÂ
âWhy must you bore me with these questions, women? I have no time for your filthy attuiteâÂ
You understood what Sukuna could do to you and respected him as such, but you respected yourself more. You never hesitated to go toe to toe with him even at the threat of your life. You also knew for a fact Sukuna would never lay a hand on you, but he would never admit that.Â
âBoy, fuck you. Youâve played with me too many tim-â
âWatch your mouth womenâ He said, stepping closer to you.
âNo you watch your mouthâ you spat back âYou leave me for three days. Go back to that other bitch you were withâÂ
âYou have no business in my whereabouts. We are not wed and will not be. You know what this arrangement isâÂ
You paused at his words. Unsure of what to say next. You always thought deep down Sukuna had a soft spot for you and was growing to the idea of you two being together. You fight back the tears as the lump in your throat grows to an abnormal size. You knew your next words had to hurt him the same way he hurt you.Â
âWell thatâs perfect then Ryomen.â you said with a smile âIâll keep that in mind the next time I fuck that dude from the Gojo clan. Satoru I think his name is? Has the prettiest blue eyes Iâve ever seen.â You said with a giggle.Â
It was his turn to pause, but you would allow no silence to occur.Â
âHeâs a real cutie and his dick is huge. Heâs been on me since the first time we fucked. Now I have the greenlight to see him more often I supposeâÂ
Youâve never met this Gojo in person in your whole life, but knew Sukuna hated his guts. You knew that would hit a spot for him like no other. You were scared for his reaction, but terrified when you looked in his eyes and saw pure rage. You have never seen him so angry before. His face pale and eyes twitching. It turned you on to no end.Â
He swiftly moved closer to you, his mouth close to your ear and whispersÂ
âWoman, I will kill youâÂ
You hated what sukuna did to you. Although Sukuna was a murderous monster, you loved every second of it. Every threat went straight to your heat, soaking your panties. For a second you believed him, but again why not see how far you can push the demon of all demons.Â
âNow I wonât feel so guilty letting him pound my pussy in the same bed you doâÂ
With that last statement he hoisted your body on his shoulder and carried you into your bedroom.Â
He quickly slammed you on the bed making you bounce up and the bed creek
âYou dare speak such vulgar words to me, bratâ he spat âIâll show you who you belong toâÂ
He wasted no time to rip your pants in half. Leaving your Hello Kitty pj pants in shreds on your wood floors.Â
âYou will be broken and limping before I ever give you away to another manâÂ
He flips you on your stomach and pulls your hips to the air, exposing your soaked panties to the sky.Â
âLook at you, you freak. So wet for me alreadyâ He says rubbing your covered clit.Â
âFuck!â You sighÂ
âDid I tell you to speak?â He again rips your soaked panties off your body, moving them to your mouth. You open them wide, aware of what was to come next. He shoves the wet panties into your mouth leaving them and allowing you to taste yourself.Â
He takes his big manly hands to your cunt rubbing slowly from your excited hole to your pulsing clit. He rubs your slit slowly and hard before landing a hard smack on the bud.Â
He moves his hand back to your clit, flicking softly and quick on your pulsing cunt, forcing you to moan on the panties. He lays another hard slap on your clit causing you to scream in pleasure and pain.Â
âYou will not make another sound, do you understand?â Causing you to nod your head slowly. The sweat from excitement and fear started to form on your brow. You knew how to push Sukunaâs buttons but he has never looked too angry and disgusted in you. You felt a wave of pleasure rush over you once more when he rammed his thick fingers in your tight hole, curving his fingers upwards to find your spot.Â
You push your head into the already hot bed to muffle any noises that might escape around your already bounded mouth. Sukuna kept his motions strong and hard causing you to shake and stir around him.Â
âKeep yourself still slut. And you dare not to cumâÂ
His voice was low and determined. Sukuna continued to assault your spot as you drip on his hand. You try your best to muffle the sounds not knowing what punishment will come of it.Â
He takes his other hand to grab a fist full of your hair pulling your head up causing you to arch your back harder. You wince in pain from the pressure.Â
âIâll show you who you belong toâ He growls. Releasing your hair only after biting your shoulder leaving a small mark that will be there for at least a few days.Â
He removes his fingers landing another piercing smack to your clit making you scream out in pain around your panties. He unbuckles himself and releases his hard, dense shaft. He positions himself at your pulsing hole before ramming himself into you.Â
You stop yourself from screaming again. He pumps into you hard and fast while gripping tightly on your hips and ass. His hands felt warm with rage and desperation.Â
âYou~ ngh ~ only belong to meâ he manages to escape while he continues to thrust into you viciously. He can feel you tensing on his solid dick indicating a climax is near. He quickly pulls himself out of you and allows you to shake violently.Â
Tears begin to fill in your eyes as you realize the orgasm you were so close to achieving had been taken from you.Â
âYou want to cum, brat?â he asked teasingly. You nod your head violently letting out a soft cry. He grabs a fist full of your hair again, bringing your head close to his mouth so he can whisper in your ear. âWell thatâs too badâ.Â
He pushes your head into the sweaty bed and inserts himself again. You feel every inch of his hard dick pounding in and out of your soaked heat. âBeg for itâ he says while ripping the panties from your mouth.Â
âPlease kuna, please I need to cumâ you beg as he pounds your wet pussy. He chuckles at your desperation as he lays a hard smack on your ass.Â
âI canât hear you whoreâ he spatÂ
âKuna Iâm so sorry, please can i cumâ you whine. Unable to get half the words out. You feel yourself coming undone around him.Â
He grabs your throat with both his hands and bangs into your soaking wet pussy causing your overflowing juices to squirt on him and the bedÂ
âFuckâ you scream, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Sukuna continues to pound into you with his hands around your throat until he lets out a loud grunt and fills you with his seed, the first time he has ever done this.Â
He steady his pace and pulls himself out of her abused pussy, laying a light smack on your ass. You lay on your stomach still unable to ease the shaking.Â
âYou better be lying about fucking Gojo. Iâd split that fucker in half for touching whatâs mineâ he said. You can feel an intense piercing stare burning a hole into your head.Â
You turn slowly to look at him in his eyes âI guess youâll never knowâ you said with a giggle.
Yan!Marvel Men (Peter, Danny, Johnny, Matt, Luke) as Pervs
Note: came from a long haitus, hello! DARK CONTENT BEWARE. Did this during an all nighter, sorry for all the mistakes. Just scroll by if not interested
"Why are men such hopeless perverts?"
Tags: Female!reader. Characters are 616! DUBCON/NONCON, SMUT, yandere elements, stalking, power dynamics, Naive/oblivious reader, panty sniffing, toxic relationships, manipulation, mentions of periods, just overall nastiness
Peter Parker AKA Spiderman
Peter and you have been the closest of friends, thick as thieves. You would never suspect him, after all how could you, it is your Peter. Your too attentive Peter. Who notices when your strap is sliding down your shoulder or when your jeans are too low and Peter never misses an opportunity to give you his jacket whenever itâs cold. But you really donât know Peter, have little idea of what he has been up to behind closed doors.
The reason Peter is too attentive is because he catches himself staring at your tits out of the corner of his eye or he sees your underwear peeking just above your jeans. And the jackets you borrow, heâs so eager to get it back and bury his face into it. Breathing in your scent; he needs to suffocate in it. Jerking off, holding it as he mutters your name over and over.Â
Youâve always told Peter that heâs good with the camera. Ecstatic when he was hired by the Bugle. He has many candid shots of you, way too many, but you never minded; you loved being his muse. Some were perfectly framed or blurry, you werenât safe from the camera even when you were napping. The ones that make Peter sweat the most are the âaccidentalâ upskirt shots he took when you werenât paying attention.Â
Peter has been caught more than once hanging around your dorm laundry room. You didnât give it much thought as he would offer to switch your loud or watch out for âdryer thievesâ. When in reality, he is the thief himself. Your panties coincidentally get eaten by the laundry, sometimes a worn t-shirt. Peter would sleep with them under his pillow, or worse, jerk off with them. Great, he thinks to himself as he must wash them again with his cum stains now on them. Then heâll carefully fold them back into your basket when youâre not looking.
You canât possibly be this naive, he thinks. I mean you obviously trust him because he is your friend, still you must be somewhat aware how you are tormenting him. He still is just a man with his very hot, oblivious friend.
Peter would never forget the time you ate an ice cream cone in front of him and didnât notice it dripping. Peterâs tongue ran over his lips, he almost offered to lick it off your fingers and when you did it yourself, he had to excuse himself to the restroom again.
Donât get it wrong. Peter very much feels sick with himself, he doesnât even know he can wake up in the morning and look at his own reflection. Ben and May raised him to be better than this. Yet here he is now stroking his dick again at the thought of his friend, who trusted him with everything they held dear. The guilt consumes him alive but itâs not enough to put a stop to him. He canât even rationalize it or even bother to make some twisted lie; he knows all full well what he is doing.
When heâs out as spiderman, he will swing by your window at night. He is just âpatrollingâ. It was a complete coincidence he came by your place. Yet he doesnât leave, instead he lingers long enough to know if youâre awake or not. And if he catches you changing or worse in the shower, he canât leave even when every inch of his mind is telling him to. He stays and gazes upon your naked self. Masturbating furiously that night only to tell himself it would be the last time, only to do it again the next night.
Peter doesnât snap all at once - he erodes. Itâs late at night, he shows up at your door bringing whatever flimsy excuse he has, smelling like the cityâs blood and smoke. It was a rough night, a very rough night. Whatever transpired, you knew he needed a hug. What you donât expect is for Peter to bury his face on your shoulder. Certainly not to nuzzle to your neck, breathing in your scent. His hands fisting at your shirt, and his lips brush against the soft skin. Itâs no accident because he pecks the skin over and over, pleading with you to just let him have this and you didnât think you could really turn him down.
Danny Rand AKA Iron Fist
Danny was the bestest friend anyone could ask for. He was the guy to knock on your door with your favorite takeout in hand. He knew what to say to bring a smile on your face whenever you are down, help carry your groceries without being asked. So how could you ever think that your sweet and thoughtful friend would be some pervert. Danny tries to play it so casually, he lets his shoulder bump yours when heâs laughing, he lets his hands linger on yours a little longer than necessary when he is helping you up. It looks and seems harmless, but his heart races every time.
The day you lent him your hoodie because he âforgotâ his is something he will always remember. He kept it at his place for weeks, wearing it around when you werenât there. Tugging the collar up to his nose, sometimes he sleeps in it, other times he wouldnât like to say what he does to it. But he returns it eventually, smiling sheepishly as he apologizes for forgetting. He loves âforgettingâ his stuff at your place, it gives him excuses to coincidently pop up. Besides itâs not like you will shoo him away if he doesn't have his excuses. Sometimes when you visit his place, he will hide your belongings so he can make you come over then convince you to stay for the night.
Once in the many nights you were staying at his place, you dozed off in the middle of a movie on the couch. Danny of course instinctively tucked a blanket over you, but then he just couldn't move. Danny told himself to look away, to stop. To do anything instead of just sitting there staring at your chest rise and fall, your soft lips. His hands nearly touched your thighs, nudging them open. He could feel his cock hard under his sweats. He even nearly leaned downed, his mouth hovering over yours, but he forced himself to stop, he had to stop.
Danny wants to be a gentleman. He wants to take things slow. It just seems as his body acts out against his very moral conscience. Like an animal in heat, he wants to act out on his every impulse, cross all boundaries. Danny should feel honored that you called him drunk at two in the morning to walk you home. Yet all Danny could think about is how you squeezed him tight, your tits pressed against his arm. His hands trembled as they held your waist a bit too tightly. He almost kissed you right then, your lips were there for the taking.
Is he truly a gentleman when you were just talking to him. Just laughing together when Danny dares to put a hand on your knee. He continued to smile, casually talking as if nothing were happening. You showed no reaction to it. Itâs when his thumb rubs tiny circles on your skin, you freeze up and momentarily stumble over your words. He removes his hand, but he waits till you are distracted to find his place once more.
There were better places to go to when he was hurt but doing so meant missing the chance to see you. His eyes are on you the entire time as you tend to his wounds. He guides you when he sees how nervous you are, steadying your trembling hands. When his hands touch yours, Danny wishes he can pull you closer, have you straddle him, not giving a damn about his stitches. Move you to grind against him with your hands on his chest, both of you panting. He imagines you calling him your boyfriend, his name moaned against his ear as he finally gets what he wants.
Danny isnât stupid. He is being too careless, too obvious with it. What if you were to ever catch him? Would you be disgusted and call him a creep. Would you cut him off, it hurts to even think about it. You have become such a familiar face, been a part of his everyday life. It would be like tearing a piece of his soul. But perhaps deep down you know the kind of man he is, surely you would forgive him.
Danny received a call from you and poor you, you were just in tears. Today was just horrible. Rocking you gently as he whispers that itâs okay, before he kisses you- all of his training and self control are thrown out the window. He can sense your confusion, you are too stunned to resist. Your eyes are glassy as you gaze up at him while he has you pinned beneath him. He just tells you not to think or fight it; he will take care of you as he always does. And in the morning, he will cook you breakfast and greet you with a smile as if nothing has changed.
Johnny Storm AKA The Human Torch
Truthfully you couldnât pinpoint when you and Johnny became good friends. Like there was a moment when you both just clicked and the rest became history. At first, Johnny wanted to convince himself itâs nothing more,]. Even he loves how you tease him, how you nudge him when heâs pushing it, how you are there to listen to him whenever he feels down. Sure he thinks you are cute and he is of course not jealous when another guy makes you laugh; okay maybe he is. And he may find himself wanting to fuck you more times than he could count.
He wonât lie, it does kill him inside every time you refer to him as a good friend. Despite his best efforts to let you know he thinks otherwise, even Ben takes pity on him. You donât give his flirting much thought, not even when he drapes an arm over your shoulder, his casual jealousy towards anyone else you talk to, how he brushes his hands against yours while youâre together. You just assume itâs Johnny being Johnny.
Johnny showing up at your place uninvited is a daily recurrence. He will lounge on your couch like he owns it as he watches tv, and yes he will steal your snacks. Johnny will sprawl into your bed, jokingly pleading you donât kick him out of it. Itâs so warm and cozy, though the second you are away, heâll bury his face into the pillows and breathe in your scent. He fantasizes about masturbating in your very bed and maybe even leaves a sign he has done something, but he shakes his head inwardly, what the hell is wrong with him.
Sleepovers are his favorite excuse. Whether itâs at his place or yours, though he prefers you. The first time you wore pajama shorts at the sleepover, poor Johnny had to take a âbathroom breakâ that turned into him stroking furiously while picturing pulling those shorts down. Or when you fall asleep with your head on his chest during the movie; he was so painfully hard, he was silently pleading you would notice and help him with predicament.
Johnny has walked in on you changing more than once, whether itâs an accident or intentional one may never know. The first time you hear a âwhoopsâ as he turns to leave, not missing the double glance he gave. Besides, Johnny isnât above using your shower and walking around with just a towel around his waist; he wants you to look, to see you all flustered.
He can be so shameless, itâs sickening. Itâs almost like Johnny believes it will end with you together no matter the outcome. It has to, you both know of each other more than most people who spend lifetimes with one another. Wherever you are seated, heâll sit by you, thighs touching. He lets hugs drag on for too long, his lips will touch your ears as he whispers something to you. Johnny will reach to fix your collar, smooth your hair, tug you close during photos, even pulling you to his lap during move nights if you let him. As said, incredibly shameless.
There comes a point where you and Johnny share a bed. Platonically of course. Especially after a bad night, heâll crawl into your bed, you couldnât possibly kick him out can you. Johnny tries to keep his distance, but he slowly shifts closer and closer. A brush of his hand, his leg on yours, face pressed into your neck. But youâre too far into sleep to not feel him using your body as friction while he reaches his release.
It happened during a night out when you both drank too much. Well it was more of you being the drunk one, while Johnnyâs metabolism slowed down the effects. Too dazed and legs unsteady, you have to rely on Johnny for support as you walk to your place. Before you know it, your back feels the mattress behind you with Johnny slamming his lips to yours, the rough pad of his tongue against your softer inner lips. All you could do was cling to the fabric of his shirt, letting it happen. You are too dumbfounded to even process that his cock is stretching inside you, before you close your eyes and lose yourself to sleep.
Matt Murdock AKA Daredevil
To others, you donât stand out too much but to Matt. You were overwhelming to him in every manner. However, you would never; he shakes your hand and gives a polite smile. But Mat can smell the roast on your breath; the coffee you had in the morning, laced with a trace of sugar. He can smell the creamy scent of the lotion you hastily applied on your skin, a touch of vanilla. He hears the nervous hitch in your braith, the faint tremor in your pulse, the saliva shift in your mouth before you swallow it.
At first, Matt tries to deny what heâs feelingâhe was just simply attracted to you. But he is fooling himself, you are very much consuming his every thought. Everything about you just seems so⌠he just canât put the right words in. He just knows he wants you, no he needs you. Matt canât be left alone with his thoughts, too long and heâll start to imagine what your throat feels like around his hand as he thrusts into you. He must busy himself with case papers or go out to catch whatever poor criminal who crosses his path.
Even as he goes out as daredevil, he keeps finding himself circling back to wherever you work or live. Itâs a coincidence, it has to be. Hellâs kitchen is a small place after all. Yet he is always listening for you, for the cadence of your steps, the sleepy hum you make when unlocking your door. How gullible you are, anyone can just take their chance to do whatever they wish. But itâs not like they will when heâs there, he will break every bone in their body.
Matt knows heâs violating every ounce of your privacy, he despises himself for listening. He can hear you through the thin walls, how you hum along to music, even the sounds of you brushing your teeth and spitting out the paste sounds intimate to him. Itâs as if youâre letting him in even without your consent. When he senses you shifting in bed and falling to sleep, it takes him a few moments to actually leave. There was a thought of opening your window, his hands moving to slide the glass before closing it again.
He lingers closer than he should. When you lean across his desk, he leans forward too with his chin resting on his hands. When you help him across the street, he doesnât need your hand, but he holds it anyway. His thumbs brush your palm, he even has the nerve to draw circles on the skin. He doesnât let go right away, itâs like heâs waiting for you to do it yourself. Matt feels the tiny hair on your skin stand up; goosebumps.
Your heartbeat becomes his favorite sound. Itâs like a melody on its own. It changes when youâre flustered, when you laugh, when youâre tired. He thinks he is so slick with it, but Foggy comments that everyone can tell he has the hots for you and tells his friend to just go for it. Still, Matt is drowned in guilt. How many men did he beat bloody for stalking a woman down the streets thinking they could just have their way with her. He is the very man he never wanted to be. But he wonât touch you, wonât say anything, he will just be thereâŚhe wonât give into his urges.
And yes as creepy as it sounds, Matt knows your cycle like an open book. Any man would be repulsed knowing such details, but Matt is one sick man. He smells the metallic blood and it makes his cock throb against his pants. He has to excuse himself with a stiff smile. Itâs worse, so much worse when you are ovulating. He feels like a man in heat. He wants to rip away your clothes, have you right there on his office floor, imagining how you would sound moaning and begging for his touch. You would love that wouldnât you.
His breaking point comes unexpectedly to you. Though itâs been building up in him for so long. Once overcome with guilt and while it lingers, he feels a sense of frenzy. There is a bile stuck at his throat he canât seem to swallow. Matt will have you, selfish it sounds. Because he wouldnât know what to do if another were to take your attention. Youâll turn around and find yourself cornered by none other than Matt. His mouth is on yours as he hastily removes your clothes, and you hear something tearing as he tugs at it roughly. He whispers to your lips if you know what you have been doing to him, but he doesn't let you respond. As he drops to his knees, his mouth on your clit.
Luke Cage AKA Power Man
Luke is the last man you would ever suspect to be a man with nefarious intentions. And truthfully Luke has always been a good friend, a man you can trust, to go to whenever trouble stirs. The things you have told him, things you couldnât tell anyone else. You thought the world of him, surely there is no way he could ever think the same about you. But you lay unaware that Luke sleeps and wakes with you consuming his every thought.Â
Luke always offers to walk you home, no matter how busy he is and how could you refuse his offer. Out of courtesy, you invite him to your apartment, times Luke refuses. But times he accepts, coming inside your apartment as you try to make him feel welcome. And when itâs so late, it only makes sense to offer the couch for him to sleep on and how could Luke ever pass on this offer. You think itâs reassuring to have him there, you feel safe. However, you swear at night, at dusk, you hear your bedroom door creak open and footsteps squeaking on the wood floors, before the door gently closes again.
Youâre not aware of how much every move you take is torturing him. Every time you gaze into him with those eyes of yours, itâs taking every might from Luke not to just take you right here and there. Sometimes, he places a guiding hand on your back when you walk side by side, and it lingers there more than it should or when his hands reach for your waist to catch you as you stumble or to move you aside; Luke finds himself squeezing a bit too firmly. He has to tell himself to let you go, otherwise he will do something he will regret, clenching his fists when he releases you.Â
Why must you be so trusting. Luke at times wonders. Knowing he is in your very living room as you change clothes so carelessly in the other room,and worse, having the door a few inches open. But you never did worry. After all, what a good friend he has been. That you donât notice the way his head shifts to allow his eyes to linger at the mirrorâs reflection you have in your room.Â
When heâs at your apartment, whether itâs just to keep you company or to offer to check on a pipe or a shelf you have been complaining about needing to be fixed and Luke of course could not deny you. When youâre not looking, Luke knows itâs wrong, hell itâs disgusting in so many ways, but he finds your underwear drawer and takes one or two with him. He feels like some perverted teenage boy. And he is definitely not happy with himself, he knows the kind of man he is and what he is doing.Â
Once during a night out with friends when you were drunk, too drunk, you called Luke. He picked you up and while he didnât give you a lecture, a sigh of exasperation told you he was disappointed. After all, didnât you realize the danger you were in. He took you to his place instead, since it was more near and carried you to his bed. As he laid you on the mattress, the straps of your dress slid down your shoulders and your tits were in full view. Luke felt his hands reach for them before his moral conscience seeped in, his fingers hovering an inch over your nips before pulling them back. He left the room, he had no choice, a second longer would have pushed him over the edge.Â
There are days where Luke needs you at night, particularly rough nights. He shows up at your door, knowing you will never turn him away. You look so beautiful in your nightwear as you sit close to him asking him what's wrong. He canât resist letting a finger run down your face, caressing it and you donât push him away. Not even when his other hand traces up your thighs as you console him.Â
Luke knows he canât keep going like this, he wonât be able to hold himself back. Unless he gets out of your life and Luke considers it, it would be the best for you. But when he sees your name pop up on his phone, how he could he decline your call. When he walks by your apartment, he must see you. It's embedded. A habit. So can you blame him when he finally has enough. He feels your face getting warmer against his skin as his lips press against yours, his hands moving down your body, and when his hand reaches between your legs, he can feel the dampness. To think he was holding back when you wanted him all along.
summary: you wanna show frank your gratitude for taking on a project for you, but he has other plans.
warnings: swearing, long haired bearded frank (yes that needs a warning), explicit sexual content (minors dni)
word count: 2k
a/n: the first time I listed to crush by ethel cain I immediately thought of frank, & then I saw tons of edits with him to this song, & this has been stuck in my head ever since. I just recently renovated my own kitchen, so naturally I thought about something like this the whole time I was doing it. anyway, this is primarily for @thyme-in-a-bubble & @castawaycreature but the rest of y'all are welcome to stay. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!
he looks like he works with his hands, and smells like marlboro reds
All youâd done was offhandedly mention to Frank that you wanted to redo the kitchen. Some new paint, new cabinet handles, maybe spruce up the backsplash with different tiles. It wasnât even a full blown project in your brain, more of an idea of a project for when you had the time and energy. But Frank being Frank took that and ran with it.
Needless to say, you were not at all prepared for the sight you came home to that evening.
As soon as you walked through the front door, you heard a loud mechanical whirring noise coming from the kitchen. Perplexity knit between your brows as you hung your keys up by the front door, following the familiar sound of power tools.
âFrank?â
Rounding the corner of the entryway, you stopped dead in your tracks and your breath hitched. The kitchen was in complete disarray. The cabinet doors had been taken completely off the hinges and were laid out in neat rows on top of a large canvas drop cloth that was spread out on the floor. There were sporadic piles of dark beige dust, evidence of the wood being sanded before it had been neatly painted that rich shade of green youâd been daydreaming about. There were open boxes of new tile and handles on the island, but your attention was immediately drawn away from the organized chaos and towards the source of it.
Frank was kneeling in front of the counter furthest from you, his jeans deliciously snug around his thighs, and the light grey tank top he wore had darkened in certain spots with sweat. There was a glistening sheen covering the exposed portion of his chest that made you want to drag your tongue over the tan skin, but what had heat blooming in your lower belly was the way his biceps bulged as he drilled holes through the drawer he was working on. You could see the clear definition in his arms and his back as he pushed the drillbit through the thick wood, his muscles flexing in a tantalizing way, and the droplets of sweat that cascaded down his veiny forearm were no match for the wetness that had begun to pool between your thighs.
He was so laser focused on the task at hand that he hadnât noticed you, hadnât even heard you call his name, which worked in your favor to be able to ogle him freely. There was rarely anything Frank did that you didnât find attractive, but watching him work with his handsâŚthat did something else entirely to you. Watching him do something so manly while looking so rugged with that grown out beard and that mess of unruly curls that were damp against his foreheadâŚit made your mouth water.Â
When he set the drill down and reached for the pack of screws and one of the new handles, he finally caught sight of you out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his head in your direction. His stoic expression of pure concentration melted into something a little softer. He opened his mouth to say something, but then noticed the way you were staring at him. His dark brows quickly furrowed in confusion, mistaking the look on your face for something else.Â
âWhat? Said ya wanted to redo the kitchen.â
âI didnât mean you had to do it all on your own, or right away.â
Frank pursed his lips slightly with a light scrunch of his nose and gave a faint shrug of his broad shoulders, slipping the screws through the holes heâd drilled and lining them up with the openings on the back of the handle.
âHad the day off.â
That almost made you laugh. It was such a Frank thing to say, and do. Of course heâd spent his whole day off doing something youâd mentioned in passing. Frank wasnât a man of many words, but he was a man of action. He wasnât always vocal or physical about his affection, but you never had to question how he felt. He showed you in how he treated you, and the things he did for you.Â
The sweet and thoughtful gesture combined with the way he looked right now had that flame of desire flickering in your lower belly turning into a full blown blaze. Walking over towards where he was still down on his knees, you reached out to push his messy damp curls away from his forehead, smoothing them back with your fingers, and lightly dragged your nails along his scalp in the process.
âTake a break.â
Frank abruptly paused, turning his head to look up at you with those warm brown eyes that could melt you into a puddle on the spot. He knew you like the back of his hand, and he recognized the barely concealed desire in your heated gaze, and heard the breathy need in your voice. He didnât need to be told twice.Â
His gaze flickered down to your bare thighs that were right at his eye level before he looked up at you again, and he slowly set down the screwdriver on the floor. He reached for your ankle, lightly trailing his fingertips up your calf, along the back of your knee, before gliding his warm callused hand up your thigh and giving it a squeeze, his fingers teasingly dipping beneath the hem of your skirt.
âYes maâam.â
A soft shuddering breath left your lips as Frank held eye contact with you while leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your thigh. Letting out a breathy laugh, you carded your fingers through his hair again, giving it a gentle tug while looking down at him with a grin.
âI should be thanking you for doing all this. You gonna let me?â
Frank let out a quiet grunt when you tugged at his hair gently, and he gripped your hips to pull you directly in front of him just to press your back against the counter, his greedy hands already hiking your skirt up to your hips.
âWhy donât you let me take my gratitude how I want it, yeah?â
He didnât give you a chance to protest before your panties were pooled around one of your ankles and one of your legs was pulled over his shoulder to open you up for him.
Your grip on his hair instantly tightened, the strands warm and damp against your fingers, unable to stop yourself from tugging him impossibly closer with a satisfied moan feeling that first swipe of his tongue. One of his large hands gripped your thigh that was on his shoulder, digging his blunt nails into your soft flesh, and his other had a tight grip on your hip to keep you steady as you leaned back against the counter and started to roll your hips against his face.
He didnât stop you. He gave your hip a squeeze of encouragement and moved even closer on his knees, burying his face in your soaked cunt like he couldnât get enough, and he usually couldnât.
âOh f-fuckâŚFrankâŚGod right there-â
Your eyes nearly crossed when he sealed his lips around your clit and started suckling, and the edge of the counter dug into your back as you arched against it, tugging at his hair with both hands now as sensual moans and breathy pleas flew past your parted lips.
As much as you wanted to come on his pretty face, the desire you felt for him was so much stronger. Giving his hair a sharper tug, you practically had to beg him to relent, which was not a simple task.
âFrankieâŚpleaseâŚI want you.â
He gave you only a moment of mercy to gruffly speak against your drenched pussy.
âYou got me, baby.â
âI want more.â
Frank chuckled as he turned his head to kiss and nip at your inner thigh.
âGreedy little thing, ainât ya?â
âFrank.â
Another deep chuckle rumbled in his chest at your desperate whine of his name, and he rubbed his rough hand over your soft skin soothingly.
âWhat is it, sweetheart? Tell me what ya want.â
âI want you to fuck me.â
Those seemed to be the magic words, and as soon as Frank rose to his full height, you grabbed the front of his tank top that was soaked with sweat and pulled him down for a messy kiss raw with hunger and need. Frankâs tongue parted the seam of your lips to tangle with your own while his large hands roamed down your body to grab your ass and squeeze firmly. His hardened cock was straining against the zipper of his jeans, pressing against your lower belly, begging to be freed. But the second you reached for his belt buckle, he grabbed your hips and swiftly spun you around to bend you over the counter.
The jingle of his belt being unbuckled and his zipper being tugged down were dull in comparison to your own blood pumping in your ears, your heartbeat as loud as raucous thunder. Youâd been holding your breath in anticipation, but all the air in your lungs was quickly knocked out when he pushed his hips forward and his thick girth stretched out your snug walls in one swift thrust, nestling so deep you swore you could feel him in your lower stomach.
In an instant you slumped against the counter, and your eyes rolled while your jaw went slack, a choked moan echoing throughout the kitchen. Frank leaned over you, pressing his chest flush against your back, one of his hands gripping your hip while his other snaked around and reached up to wrap his hand around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze.
He nuzzled his large nose against your neck, kissing and nipping at your heated skin, dragging his tongue along the shell of your ear, rocking his hips against your ass as he fucked you with slow deep strokes, even though everything in him wanted to fuck you with reckless abandon. Frank never rushed anything, but especially not pleasing you.
âFeel so fuckinâ good, sweetheart. This what you wanted, yeah?â
Blindly reaching behind you, your fingers grasped at whatever you could find to anchor yourself to, the fabric of his tank top clutched tightly in your fingers.Â
âFrank-â
âI know baby, I know.â
It was almost eerie how well he knew your body, oftentimes better than you did. He knew exactly what you liked, and exactly what you needed, when you needed it. He kept his hold on your throat, but he let go of your hip so he could slip his hand down between your thighs, strumming his fingers over your clit in rapid succession, making you writhe in the limited space you were trapped in between the counter and his large body.
He let out a grunt when he felt you clench around his cock, but he held out on his own pleasure, always making sure you were well satisfied before he even thought about letting go. He let out a quiet moan in your ear when he felt you come for him, felt the warm wetness of your pussy drowning his cock and soaking your inner thighs and the denim of his jeans.
His hips stuttered, and he let out a guttural groan in your ear as he pushed himself flush against you, gripping onto you tightly as he followed your climax. Your pulsing cunt milked his cock in a way that made his forehead drop against your shoulder, and the soft whimper it tore from him made your knees weak and made that desire burn even hotter.
Both of you were panting heavily, and Frank was peppering soft kisses along your neck and shoulder, giving your hip a gentle squeeze before he slowly started to pull out. But little did he know, you were far from finished.
Not even giving him a second to think, you straightened up on your wobbly legs and turned to face him, fisting the front of his tank top as you pushed him backwards and up against the island behind you. Frank looked down at you in bewilderment, his hands instinctively shooting out to grab your hips.
âWhat-â
âYou got to take your gratitude how you want, now I get to say thank you how I want.â
Flashing him a devilish smirk, you kept your eyes locked on his as you sank down to your knees in front of him, and Frankâs confusion quickly transitioned into hunger, his softened cock already stirring once again with need.
âWell this is definitely fuckinâ worth all the goddamn splinters.â
â° or... you challenge your husband by telling him that his dick isn't that big... and he isn't shy about proving you wrong!
WARNING: 18+ CONTENT, fem! wife! reader, rough sex, big dick! jason todd, dirty talk, hair pulling, ass smacking, size kink, dom! jason todd, inspired by dilf! jason todd!
jason was just trying to get to bed.
he got out of the shower, shirtless and sweatpants sitting low on his waist. the towel was wrapped over his shoulders, his hair damp but trying to dry. his frame was getting your attention even when it didn't mean to.
you were on the bed in nothing but one of jason's shirts and nothing on the bottom, no underwear or no panties. you watched with a sharp gaze as jason walked around the bedroom, his steps soft. his figure never failed to turn you on, make your cunt so wet; his biceps that were too big for their own good, scars on his chest and jaw that became your favorite places to kiss over the years, his hair so perfectly sitting on his head with the white strands curling in front... he was too damn irresistible.
no wonder you had kids with this bastard.
he was muttering about how your teenage son was getting too big for his own good.
"hun, he's getting fuckin' huge. i wasn't his size when i was sixteen." he tells you, picking up something off the floor and putting it on your dresser.
you shrug, rubbing your thigh right above the end of the stolen shirt you wore. "jay, of course he's going to be big... he's your son anyway." you try to reason with himâ telling jason todd that he was a big man isn't even a shocking thing to say... but you had a little idea in your mind.
jason rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "i am not that big, honey." he tries to argue with you, grabbing the towel on his shoulder to rub the water that's trying to drip down his forearm.
there you go. that's your entry. you smirk, and with no issue, your words left your mouth. "you're right about that..." you began, rubbing an itch behind your ear. "with your dick not being that big anyway..."
he stops his towel's movements; he looks at you like you just smacked him. his spine straightens, his eyebrows furrowing. no way you, of all people, just told him that. "what did you say, baby?" he questions you, his voice low enough that you could barely hear it, but the tone is what makes you not ignore him.
you shrug, watching him walk over to you on your side of the bed. "you heard me; your dick is not that big." you double down on your stanceâ which wasn't even true because that same dick was the same one that stretched you out like crazy.
jason doesnât even give you a damn moment to speak or explain yourself.
he drops the towel to the bedroom floor, and before you could blink, he grabs your hips, shoving you face down onto the mattress. your face first in the pillows, hand immediately shooting to the sheets as your ass is put in the air. his hands are rough against your hips, shoving your shirt up and revealing your bareness to him. he gets on the bed, knees dipping into the bed and changing the weight.
"you really want to try that with me and have no underwear on?" he asks you, dragging his cock out of his pants and lining up the blunt head of his thick dick against your folds, slow and taunting to you. "you've carried my children, you've begged for this cock this morning and i gave it to you three times this week and it's barely wednesday... and now you're saying my dick isn't that big. say that shit again, do it."
you look up at him, whining as his tip gets sucked into your cunt so easily. you try to speak, you really do, but a moan suppresses that, a moan that was too loud for it's own good.
he laughs at your futile, downright pathetic attempt at speaking, his left hand holding his cock as his right hand presses down on your lower back and forces you to arch. "good, that's what I thought... now take it like a good girl."
then, he slams into you with no issue whatsoever, pushing into you with one slick thrust. your walls instantly open up to him, knocking the air out of your lungs in a breathtaking thrust.
his hands are enormous on your hips, his rough palms and fingers pressing bruises onto your hips as he pounds into your cunt, relentless and precise. each thrust rocks the bedframe against the wall, making the headboard groan and the bedframe creak.
all you can do is moan, your tone whiney. you can't get a damn word out, all that comes out is an incoherent sound, your messy little whimpers make jason's grip tighten and him grumble out a groan.
"not that big, huh?" he growls, pounding into you so damn hard that the wet sounds between your cunt and his cock sound pornographic. "funny, sweetheart, 'cause this 'not-that-big' dick had you screaming for more last night..."
your vision blurs, eyes rolling back as your hand shoots from the mattress up to the bedframe, fingers trying to get a good grip on the wood. "jason! o-ohâ ngh! jay!"
"oh, so you're nice now?" his right hand moves up and grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head up just enough to see your face, the arch in your back so damn sinful as your ass jiggles with each thrust. "just a minute ago you had all that mouth..."
moaning at feeling his fingers yanking on your hair, you nod your head, mouth too full with moans.
he grunts under his breath, voice dripping with a smug heat that makes your pussy flutter. "you carry my kids, you cum on my cock every night, you take every damn inch i give you, and somehow you still decide to run your mouth." your body jolts with each one of the snaps of his hips. "i'm starting to think you want me to break you..."
legs shaking violently, your chest heaving and your eyes rolling back, you can't help but nod your head at his words. "y-yes, jason, pleaseâ oh fuck! ru- ruin me..."
"oh that's it." he whispers in your ear, licking the back of it. "you just wanna be fucked so stupid by the daddy of your kids, by your husband. you want this pussy fucked?"
"fuck! ye-yes jason, fuck me. fuck me, 's-so good." you cry out, nails digging deeper into the headboard. his right hand stays in your hair while his left hand cups one of your asscheeks.
"that's it." he growls, rutting into you. his left hand lifts up and cracks against your asscheek, smacking it as the sound echos through the bedroom, mixing in with the bedframe creaking and the moans. "since you're so damn convinced i'm not that big, i think this pussy won't mind if i go just a little deeper, huh?"
he angles his hips a certain way, and with the same speed and same ferocity, he hits direclty on your g-spot, making you see stars and getting you so damn close.
"oh fuck! ja-jay! right there! oh right t-there!" you babble, feeling his hand smack your ass again before sliding down on your body.
his hand goes in between your thighs, thick fingers finding your clit and pressing down on it, rubbing circles in it mercilessly, his hand on your cunt keeping in speed with his thrusts.
"come on, mama." he murmurs, knowing what the pet name does to you, he used it to rile you on, especially in that low tone of his. "give it to me, cum on my cock, i know you want it."
and without needing any more, your orgasm slams into you so damn hard you scream into the mattress and your legs giving out completely. your body trembles violently as you sob out his name, cumming all over his cock and your vision whitening out.
jason grunts, feeling your cunt clench harshly down on his cock as he reaches his own orgasm, spilling deep inside of your folds with a groan, white painting your walls.
his right hand loosens in your hair, going to your shoulders and massaging them as you come down from your high, and the feeling in his sticky cum being shot into your cunt, his soft grinds from overstimulation slowing down and bringing you back down to reality.
"there you go... come back to me, hun..." he encourages, leaning down and pressing a kiss onto your cheek. still buried deep inside of you, he can't help but whisper next to your face. "not that big, my ass."
you move your head to the side to look into his eyes and press a kiss onto the scar on his cheek. "shush, big guy..."
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: meow. dilf! jason todd got me going absolutely insane. he's so fucking hot, he's literally bruce's twin. dilf! jason todd and dilf! dick grayson, eiffel tower me, now! i saw him in 5 minutes and KNEW I had to write sum about him, heâs so fucking fineâ
thank you for all the support in every way possible! all support is very much appreciated! all content created on this blog is mine, do not copy or sent it through ai!
Pairing: husband!Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings/tags: 18+; shower smut, oral m!receiving, that damn crucifix necklace, and a little bit of choking
Summary: Matt is a giver, he always has been. He's also terrible when it comes to asking for what he wantsâbut that changes tonight.
a/n: I was inspired by the Born Again trailer shower scene, like everyone else, but I tried to resist writing anything with all the smut already coming out. But after poor Matt was pleasuring everyone else in showers all week, I figured he needed his turn in the shower. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!
Hot steam filled the air around you, fogging up the glass of the shower door. Only half of you remained beneath the spray of the showerhead as warm, wet droplets trailed down your back in rivulets. A chill seeped into you from the inside out at the contrast of Matt's damp and slightly cool body pressed to the front of yours.
Matt was usually always so deliciously warm, but the difference in temperature between him and the water cascading down the back of you had long since caused your nipples to stiffen. With your breasts currently crushed against his firm chest, you knew that sensation alone was driving him wild because you knew how much he enjoyed toying with your nipplesâwith either his mouth or his fingers. But tonight you were aiming to do more than just drive him wild; you wanted him to fall apart. You wanted him to stand there with his back against the tiled wall of the shower while he let you take care of him. You wanted to hear him crying out in ecstasy like he always made you, and you wanted him to be the one to vocalize what he wanted for onceâwhat he needed.
Because after all, he'd promised you that tonight.
Mouth attached to his neck, you sensually sucked at the skin just below his jaw. It was a spot that you knew from past experience always had an effect on him, which was proven when he loosed a soft whimper just above your ear. The noise drew your lips into a smile against him, releasing the skin from your mouth before shifting over towards the chain of his crucifix. You nipped at the sensitive skin above it with your teeth, satisfied when his head finally dropped back against the shower wall behind him with a groan, giving you further access to his neck. Your tongue slid out between your lips, the tip of it dragging along him, teasing him as you tasted the bit of salty sweat still lingering on his skin from his night out in the suit.
As your mouth paid careful attention to his neck, your left hand continued to attentively roam his body. It traveled up through the hair along his forearm, the tips of your nails catching the fine, dark hairs beneath them before dragging their way past his bicep and towards his toned chest still slick from the shower's spray. But your right hand remained busy brushing across the dampened and sensitive skin just above his cock, right at the start of where his thick, dark pubic hair formed. You'd been intentionally making slow passes from left to right and back again with your flattened palm for a few minutes now, your mouth trailing slow, tender kisses that followed the length of the gold chain as you took your time.Â
Matt's cock had long since stirred awake beneath your attention. It had been noticeably pressing harder and harder into your thigh, begging you not to be ignored. But that's exactly what you were doing right now. Because Matt was supposed to be telling you what he wanted tonightâlearning to say what he needed instead of always giving and giving. You wanted him to learn that he could also take.
This was about him.
âSweetheart,â Matt whispered. âPlease?â
Nuzzling your face into his neck, you brushed your nose back and forth along his pulse point. You weren't going to make this easy for him because he needed to learn to use his words and  verbalize what he wanted. You wanted to hear him say it for once; he needed to learn once and for all that he was allowed to want things too.
Matt's hands which had been settled along your hips suddenly gripped the damp flesh when the tip of your nose bumped into his jaw, his hands yanking you somehow closer to him. A shudder ran up your spine in response, goosebumps dotting your skin as the warm water overhead continued to race down your back. His tight hold on you had felt good, reminding you of all the times he'd bent you over the back of the leather couch or the bed as he fucked you with such vigorous fervor. Wetness that had nothing to do with the shower dripped down between your thighs.Â
But he wasn't supposed to be doing that to you.
âMatty,â you warned. âYou promised, remember?â
âBut sweetheart,â Matt protested, his voice pitching up into a whine. âI can't. I justâjust need to taste you. Let me taste you, please, angel?â
You withdrew your face from his neck, your right hand pausing its movement above the patch of his damp pubic hair and instead resting along his skin. âWhat you need to do is let me take care of you, Matt,â you reminded him. âThis isn't about me. You're supposed to be telling me what you want tonight.â
A defeated groan flew from his lips, his head once more falling back against the tiled wall behind himself as he loosened his grip on your hips, his blunt nails no longer deliciously biting into your skin. You felt an uncontrollable heat stir inside of you at the sight of him before you now, though. His eyes were closed, his bearded jaw tensed as he clearly fought his own urge to push you back into the tile instead. You had no doubt he was struggling with the increasing scent of your arousal filling the shower. You knew the effect it always had on him. But you didn't want him between your thighs like that, not tonight.Â
âThat's it, Matty,â you praised, enjoying the way the corners of his lips twitched. âThat's my good Devil.â
You leaned back in towards his neck, placing a soft kiss just below his jaw. You felt a shudder race through him, a faint whimper slipping out between his lips.Â
âNow tell meââ you whispered into his skin, moving your mouth lower to place a gentle kiss at the base of his throat, ââwhat you want.â
Your mouth moved lower, taking the gold crucifix between your teeth and giving it a light tug along his neck. Glancing up, the gold cross still between your teeth, you were pleased to see his eyes had tightened further shut. He was going to cave soon, you could feel it in the way his muscles had tensed against the front of your body. Your right hand dipped a bit lower, the tips of your fingers brushing lightly past the base of his cock.
âTouch me,â he begged, finally breaking. âI need you to touch me, sweetheart. Please.â
Dropping the crucifix from your teeth, it fell back onto his chest just as your right hand gripped the girth of him. A satisfied smile spread across your lips as you gazed back at Matt. His eyes had opened, their focus somewhere just past your shoulder as a flush crept into his cheeks. Your hand began to stroke him, thumb intentionally circling the tip of him when youâd reached it.
âThis good, Matty?â you whispered.Â
âA little faster,â he replied, voice tight.Â
Following his instruction, your hand quickened its pace, your thumb occasionally pausing to circle the sensitive spot along his head. It wasnât long before a deep rumble vibrated straight from his chest and right into yours. You felt your cunt pathetically squeeze around air, a thrill shooting through you. Mattâs bottom lip immediately caught between his teeth as he attempted to stifle a soft cry that still managed to escape his mouth. You knew he'd heard that and you knew he was struggling to refrain from slipping his fingers inside of you in return. Instead, his hands had once more increased their pressure against your hips, the heat of them hard to ignore as they nearly burned your skin.
âWhat else do you want, Matthew?â you questioned.
Your hand continued to stroke his cock as you waited for his reply. With every few pumps of your fist around him, you caught the way his hips would occasionally jolt forward into you. A pleased hum sounded in your throat. This was getting closer to what you'd wanted to see.Â
âKiss me,â he ordered.Â
Without wasting a second, your other hand left its place along his chest and grabbed him by the chin. You tugged him towards yourself, connecting your lips to his in a heated passion. The beard heâd recently grown and youâd quickly come to love pleasantly scratched against you as your mouths moved in sync, the feeling beginning to drive you a little over the edge. As if he could tell, Mattâs mouth began attacking yours more earnestly, a low moan sliding into your mouth when your tongue slid into his. Â
The kiss quickly grew into something desperate, growing need causing Matt to begin roughly biting at your lips with his teeth. Taking cues from the way heâd begun rutting forward into your hand, you increased the pace with which you continued to work him over. But when your thumb swiped across the sensitive tip of his cock this time, Matt broke away from your lips and another deep moan barrelled straight out of his chest, echoing around the tiles of the shower.
âAhâfuck ,â Matt ground out between his teeth. âNeed more.â
Breathing hard, your eyes met his darkened ones. His chest was heaving against yours, his own breath coming in sharp pants now. His gaze was fixed around your chin, a fierce look of desire burning inside of them. You relished the sight of it because this was a Matt you had not often seen before.
âTell me what you need,â you whispered. âGo on.â
âMouth,â he nearly growled out. âYour mouth.â
âLike this?â you asked, feigning innocence.Â
You leaned down towards his collarbone, dragging the flat of your tongue across the length of it as your right hand finally came to a stop. Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you watched as his eyelids fluttered, a muscle tensing in his cheek.Â
âOr like this?â you breathed out.
Trailing a few open-mouthed kisses just a bit further down, you paused to clamp your teeth onto part of his chest, right beside his nipple. A hiss of pleasure shot out between Mattâs teeth in response and you grinned at the sound.
âIs that what you meant, Matt?â you asked coyly.
You watched as his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, his head shaking once.
âNo,â he ground out.
âThen Mattyââ your tongue delicately swiped at his hardened nipple, your pleased smile growing when he squirmed against you, ââsay it.â
âSweetheart,â he whined in protest. âDonât you want me to get you off? Wouldnâtâwouldnât you enjoy that?â
âOh, Iâm enjoying this plenty,â you assured him.Â
His eyes snapped shut when your lips sucked his nipple into your mouth next, your tongue swirling around the peak. You could feel his cock throbbing in your right hand where it had remained motionless, waiting for him to finally say what you knew he wanted. For a minute he remained silent instead, continuing to squirm against the shower wall as you lapped at his nipple. Eventually a string of curses passed his lips in a rush the moment your teeth raked over him.
âI want your mouth on my cock,â he growled out, his voice bordering on the Devilâs deep snarl. âI want you swallowing my cum.â
Releasing his nipple from your mouth, you shot him a satisfied smile as you gradually began to lower to your knees before him in the shower. Dragging the nails of your left hand down his torso as you went, you delighted in the way his abdominal muscles twitched at your touch.
âThere you go, Matty,â you purred. âThereâs my big bad Devil.â
Sitting on your knees, you were finally face to face with Mattâs erect cock. Hands running up and down his thick thighs, you licked your lips in anticipation as you admired the sight before you. He rarely ever let you suck his cock because he was always too busy fucking you with it if his mouth wasnât damn near glued to your cunt. But now it was all yours to enjoy, and you were going to revel in every sound that passed his beautiful lips as you did.
Right hand gripping the base of him, you leaned forward and lightly circled your tongue around the tip. Above you, Matt emitted a throaty groan, the sound raising the small hairs on the back of your neck. Refraining from lunging forward and taking him all at once, you licked up the length of him painfully slow with the flat of your tongue, wondering just how good that had felt with his senses when his head slammed back into the shower wall with a soft thump as he inhaled sharply between his teeth.
âFuck, sweetheart,â he panted out. âDonât stop.â
As you continued to lightly lick up the length of him, Mattâs breathing began to fill the shower as it came in sharper and faster. The sound was unexpectedly building the heat between your legs, your left hand unable to resist slipping between your thighs. Eyes slowly closing, two of your own fingers began circling your clit, your back arching at the jolt of pleasure that raced up your spine. No longer able to resist, you took him into your mouth, a soft moan vibrating around his cock.
You felt something brush gently against your cheek and your eyelids fluttered back open. Once more looking up from beneath your lashes, you saw Mattâs head had tilted forward along the tiled wall. He was staring down at you with hooded eyes and a crease between his dark brows as his hand tenderly stroked your cheek while you sucked his cock.
âAre youâtouchingâyourself?â he asked between heavy breaths.Â
Unable to respond verbally, you hummed in answer. A sharp whine fell out of Matt next, your fingers increasing their pressure against yourself as you observed his reaction. Focusing your attention on the head of his cock, you felt Mattâs hand slide its way down your cheek and past your jaw until it encircled your neck. He squeezed with just enough pressure for you to feel it, a resounding growl filling the steamy shower as he did.
âPut two fingers inside of yourself,â he suddenly ordered. âNow.â
A ripple of satisfaction flooded you. Obeying his command, you slid your fingers between your damp folds before slipping them inside of yourself.
âI want to hear youââ he broke on a moan, his head once more falling back against the shower wall. âWant to hear you fuck yourself with them.â
Kneeling on the floor at Mattâs feet, you continued to suck his cock with a renewed enthusiasm while your fingers began to pump in and out of yourself, the wet sound loud even to your own ears. You could tell Matt was getting close now by the way his thighs had begun to shake and how frequently youâd started hearing his broken whines above you. The walls of your cunt tightened around your fingers at that knowledge, another one of your moans vibrating around his cock.
âAhhââ he hissed out. âCan almost taste you from here.â
âMmm,â you hummed in answer, aware how much he always enjoyed the vibration.
âShitshitshit,â Matt breathed out in an unbroken string immediately. âThatâs it sweetheart, just like that. I'mâalmost there.â
You continued to pump your fingers faster into yourself, your own legs trembling along the floor of the shower. Matt's hips began to visibly fight the urge to rock forward into you, causing you to take him further into your mouth with a pleased hum.Â
âFuck, sweetheart,â Matt groaned, his voice breaking on each word. âJustâlikeâ that!â
On the final word, you felt Mattâs warm release flood your mouth. Not remotely letting up as a high-pitched, drawn out cry flew out of him, his hand still gripping your neck, you worked him through the rest of his climax. Greedily you swallowed down every salty bit of him like youâd been starved for the taste. You werenât sure when heâd allow you the pleasure of this again, and that thought had you soon cumming on your own fingers, one last pleasured moan vibrating along him as he filled your mouth.
When both of you were finally spent, a haze of contentment washed over you along with the warm shower spray. Slipping your fingers out from inside yourself, you released his cock from your mouth with a soft, wet noise. Licking your lips, your attention returned to Mattâs face above you, and you were delighted to find a blissful, pacified smile drawn over his own lips.
âSo, was that worth keeping your promise?â you asked him.
âMmm,â he hummed back, nodding his head sluggishly. âMhmm. Maybe I should promise that more often.â
âYou absolutely should,â you agreed.
Slowly rising back up to your feet, you felt satisfied to see the way he was leaning back against the wall behind himselfâas if he needed it to help hold himself upright. After his night out as Daredevil and that explosive release he'd just had, you figured he probably did.
âBut I think now,â you continued, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him away from the wall and into your arms, âyouâve earned your shower and some sleep. What do you think?â
Mattâs arms encircled your waist in return, his forehead coming to rest lightly against yours as the pair of you both now stood beneath the showerhead. He bumped his nose affectionately against yours, his tired smile growing further.
âI think that sounds like a great idea, Mrs. Murdock,â he whispered.
18+! cw: soft cnc/mild dubcon, breeding kink (slight forced breeding), soft dom matt
summary: you've been busy to the point of neglecting your own health, and matt's bids for your attention have gone largely ignored. what's a guy to do? (wc: 4k)
a/n: i know... here i am again... me + breeding kink = fork found in kitchen. inspired by my psychic connection with @upended-jellyfish :333 ! anyway this is super self indulgent bc iâve been so damn EXHAUSTEDD i have classes everyday for almost 12 hours straight & matt hard resetting me by straight up beating my back (nicely) and refusing to let me think would fix me : (
If you feel like you hate yourself, go shower; if you feel like you hate everyone, go eat. Itâs what youâve always gone by, picked up from a throwaway post youâd read on the Internet years ago and quietly adopted as gospel, but today you canât bring yourself to do either. Youâre stale in your own skin, sticky with it, and the dayâs gone on without you noticing youâve been pushing Matt away.
Strike one: Matt asking you something only for you to reply with a disinterested hum, eyes fixed on the blue-white glow of your screen. It frustrates him more than he lets on, the fact that he canât even see what it is thatâs been stealing your attention from him, and most of all canât understand why itâs getting more of your attention than youâre giving to yourself.
Strike two: Matt coming into the room to at least indulge your business with an offering of coffee, exactly how you like it down to the temperature. He sets it down beside you with careful precision, and as he does thereâs an attempt to take your hand to plant therein a quick kiss. You donât look up, your answer a single distracted stroke of your fingers through his hair and over the back of his neck, a brief pass to be interpreted as a sating yes, yes, thank you without breaking your focus, without even noticing the frustrated huff he lets out as he turns away.
Strike three: Matt saying, just to mess with you, âI think we should get married.â Still typing, you reply, âUh-huh. Sure, yeah.â
Matt knows youâre busy. He is, too. Both of you are intimately familiar with the kind of distance the long hours can carve between you. In fact, he does enjoy the company while he works as wellâlikes the faint clatter of your typing across the table from him, the way you mutter and curse and mm-hmm at your screen as though youâre alone, the way you offer him tea when youâre making your own. All of these endear you to him further, and thus he tells himself heâs not the kind of man who demands your complete attention to feel close to you. He loves you, so much so that it sends a thrill up his spine to think of you as capable, secure in yourself. But the more you push yourself past the brink, driving yourself to your own collapseâMatt is not the kind of man who will allow it, either.Â
Still, you donât notice. Not until Mattâs leaning in the doorway of your bedroom like heâs been standing there a while, one shoulder propped against the frame and his head dipped the way it does when heâs listening to something only he can hear.
âYouâre doing it again,â he says, voice quiet.
The project has its teeth in you. You can barely manage to look up from your laptop, bleary-eyed. âWhat?â
âRefusing to take a break.â
You blink at him. Matt is sweet, but you also know too well that he is, to put it harshly and truthfully, a hypocrite. Prone to patronizing, overprotective in a way that brushes right up against infuriating. Itâs not unlike him to point fingers at you for burning yourself out when he has made a life out of precisely that, day and night. âYeah, well, Iâm busy, alright? Sorry.â
âBusy?â he echoes, licking his lips in a troubled sort of frustration, unsure of whether heâs ready to admitâto you or himselfâthat his frustration goes beyond his concern for you. Concern is most of it, yes, but still he has to admit that he has been feeling neglected, like a selfish child. More than that, he misses you, longs for you, yearns for you in a way that leaves him restless.Â
âYouâre wound so tight I can hear your pulse from here. Youâve been up three nights. I'm not going to just stand here and let you run yourself into the ground.â
âChrist,â you mutter, moving to push your laptop closed. For the first time in hours, your attention is on something else, your body and your mind completely shifting your work out of the frame. Itâs refreshing to not have to think about it for once, though you wonât admit that, even if the welcome distraction comes in the form of a mounting argument that sends a sting in your chest before you can supply him with a more adequate answer. âMatt, I don'tâ I just have stuff to do. You know this. I actually need to do it.â
âWhen was the last time you ate?â
Irritation rises in you instantly, sharp and irrational at his prodding. You know heâs right, and for that reason you refuse to dignify him with even considering his question further. In any case, the hunger at the pit of your stomach has long been silenced in lieu of something else anyway, a demanding, twinging ache in the muscles of your back no doubt caused by the hours of poring over your paper with less than ideal posture.Â
You settle instead for derision, studying the faint ovals of purple under his eyes. âYou going for the pot today or the kettle?â
Matt lets out a weary sigh, âYou know thatâs not the same.â
âBecause youâre the only one who gets to kill himself in this household, got it.â The bitterness in your tone is palpable, but it lacks the bite youâve wanted to feed into it. You canât bring yourself to feel any real loathing when youâre aware he means well. The affection you hold for him, of course, extends not only to Matthew himself but the Devil, and itâs unlike you to use that facet of his for the sake of spite. Despite everything, you actually do align with what he is, with total faith in his goodness, his intentions. But youâre long past the point of thinking straight; all you want is to work, to bite, to be left alone.Â
âThatâs enough.â He pushes himself off the frame and crosses the space between you with purpose, as if the argument has already been decided. âYouâre not doing this again.âÂ
Unsettled, you flinch back in your chair when he stops in front of you, and his warm hand comes to your jaw, tilting it upwards so you have nowhere else to look but the honeyed glass of his unfocused eyes. His thumb finds the edge of your mouth, and you have half a mind to bite down on it to reassert yourself, remind him you still can. âLook at me.â
You do. You are.
âYouâve been in your head so much you canât hear yourself think,â he says evenly, without so much as a hint of anger. The difference, the patience in his tone compared to yours paints the picture of you as an ill-tempered child bent on getting her way, no matter if it happens to be the wrong one, and you have enough clarity left in yourself to know you sound pathetic. âIâm going to fix that.â
You roll your eyes on instinct, even if you know he canât see. âFix it? And how exactlyââ
âBy giving you something to keep you grounded.â His hand slides from your jaw to your shoulder, making its way down to clasp around your arm, tugging gently and coaxing you to stand. The heat of his palm is intoxicating, and you find yourself wanting to lean into it, step fully into it even as you know you have to get back to punishing yourself as soon as possible, lest you lose yourself in him and thereby lose the momentum of your work completely.
âMatt, I really canâtââ
With the smallest disapproving shake of his head, he cuts you off.Â
âNo more decisions tonight,â he says. âIâm going to take that away for a while. I've got you.â
He helps you to your feet and, still under the spell of his heavy grasp, you let him. He turns you toward the bed, his touch firm and heavy at your lower back until youâre sitting, then easing you down to lie on your stomach until your cheek is pressed into the blessedly cool sheet. For a second, youâre sure heâs going to strip you and take you right there; heâs done it before, fucked you straight through with an abandon youâve welcomed more times than youâll admit. The relief of being laid downâsomething you have been refusing yourself, for fear of exactly this: the slippery slope of surrenderâis robbing you of all energy to move, and it becomes clear to you that, if you choose to do so, youâre in no position to stop him from doing what he will do to you. You are only given the luxury of choosing whether you will like it or not.
Yet much unlike what your anticipation leads you to believe, his hands only slip under your shirt, the coal-hot heels of his palms settling on your shoulders. The hard pads of his thumbs find the hardened knots between your neck and your shoulder blades and dig in, not sharp enough to hurt but deep enough that your muscles shiver in place before giving in under the pressure. The warmth of his hands seeps straight into you, slow and saturating, pulling at each stubborn coil of tension to unspool until your head feels lighter than light.Â
Matthew is precise in his work, methodical. For all his refusal to possibly hurt you, he doesnât hold back in this regard. He knows you well enough to map you from memory, to press where you need it and skim lighter where you are delicate. And so he does: the caress of his hands down either side of your spine, the patient kneading of his fingertips and knuckles along each ridge. The only break in his steadily paralyzing routine is the low, amused chuckle he allows himself when you canât help the sinful moans slipping past your lips, commanding your body to sink further into the mattress with each pass, your arms slack at your sides, edges of your vision swimming.Â
âThatâs it,â he says, the deep rasp of his voice settling over you, steady as his touch.Â
He works lower, thumbs tracing the grooves of your lower spine before lingering there, holding the pressure, circling slow, firm strokes just above your hips. The sensation sends a shiver down your thighs and arches your back without meaning to. At this point, your hard resolve, your determination to snap at him has turned into nothing more than delicately torn gossamer, a mirror to the aching pain and exhaustion that has completely melted and henceforth replaced by a warm prickling that has spread down your thighs and up into your ribs. You're too loose to fight the instinct, too lulled by the way heâs dismantling your body piece by piece.
Matt leans over you slightly, so that he is close enough for his breath to warm the back of your neck when he says, âOkay?â
He takes your drowsy whimpers enough for an answer. If you were any more lucid, you might notice the faint upward curl at the corner of his mouth, the quiet satisfaction in the face of your total compliance. By the time heâs done, your body is thrumming with relief, the tension replaced by a molten looseness that makes your limbs feel almost foreign. Such heavy-limbedness that your mind has slowed to a warm haze, and you barely notice when his hands find again the soft flesh of your waist, tracing your bare skin.Â
âSo tired, arenât you, sweetheart?â His voice is so quiet you almost donât hear it, toned down near exactly to the ambient noise in the room. You hum again into the pillow, too far gone to argue. His hand moves to stroke the back of your head, petting your hair with such fondness you may as well drool. âTurn over for me.â
His palms leave your back at last, the lingering heat almost unbearable in its absence. Before you can drift too far, heâs coaxing you gently onto your back, his touch at your hip a subtle but unyielding guide. You let him turn you, half-lidded eyes blinking up at the ceiling; at this point, you would do anything he asks of you.Â
The cool sheets kiss the back of your neck. The warmth of him eclipses everything else and he leans over you, one knee pressed into the mattress beside your hip, and you feel the shallow shift of the bed as his weight settles nearer.
âStill with me?â The vibration of his voice is felt as much in your sternum as heard by your ears. One palm rests just below your collarbone, fingers spread wide, the tip of his index grazing the fine ridge of bone. You know he is feeling your pulseâhe always canâand that knowledge makes you inexplicably shy. Tilting his head in wait for an answer, his thumb drags upwards to the base of your throat, pushing into the dipped locket where your clavicles meet. It forces the start of a cough out of you, and your lips can find nothing else to form in acquiescence but a litany of his name, and his name alone.Â
âGood,â he murmurs back, âLet me. Let me.â
He bends to your neck first, the smoldering press of his mouth soft until the rasp of his stubble raises gooseflesh along your jaw. You feel the shape of his lips there, the subtle draw of breath before the next kiss lands lower, angled toward the tender curve where your shoulder yields to your throat. His other hand drifts down the slope of your side, the dip of your waist, the faint rise of your hipboneâthe sensation is less urgent than it is to explore; he is touching you like he has all the time in the world, as if your work cannot be any further from you at the moment.Â
When he reaches your waistband, his fingers hook and tug with an easy confidence that makes the fabric slide down your thighs before your brain has caught up to the fact that youâre being undressed. He bares you inch by inch, and even under his unseeing eyes, you feel as if youâre under the closest inspection of your life. You gasp when the sheet cools your newly exposed skin, the rhythmic pulse between your legs growing tight and increasingly insistentâbut his mouth is back on you before you can speak, trailing lower along the slope of your neck before ghosting back up, as if to remind you what youâre giving him.
Your legs part when he urges them to, knees bending instinctively to frame his hips. He stays between them, close enough that the crushing warmth of his body bleeds into your inner thighs even through his own clothes. His hand travels down until his fingers graze your sultry wetness, gathering your slick to spread it all over your swollen, sensitive cunt, ignoring the desperate pulsing of your clit. Hungry for more, you buck further into his own hand, that familiarly ill temper finding its way back to you as exhaustion and want strip you down to something singular: you want him, you want his touch on you, you cannot have enough.
âBetter,â he says almost approvingly, like youâve just answered some unspoken question. âToo much noise in your head. Iâm gonna give you something better to think about. Keep you still for once.â
Ever the generous lover, Matt seems to pick up on your frustration and your whimpers give way to pleading cries as he finally, finally grants you recompense; he drags his thumb over your clit at last, as two of his thick fingers sink into your cunt, the stretch a welcome intrusion that has you tasting colors on your tongue. You cling to his shirt, half-whimper, half-protest, âMatt, thisâthis isââ
âFor your own good,â he supplies simply, withdrawing his fingers only to guide your knees up until they hook high along his ribs. The position pins you open, every muscle in your body ceding ground to him. Youâre drowsy with want, with the molten pull of anticipation. Thereâs a pauseâthe subtle shift of his body as he frees himself from his pantsâand then the blunt head of his cock nudges at your soaked entrance, the crown parting you just enough to steal your breath. âAnd youâre gonna take it. Alright?â
Because it is all you can manage, you eke out a silent yes. Thankfully, Matt is not as picky as you, or as pedantic as he can be at the moment, and your half-response seems to be adequate enough for him.
âBreathe for me,â he whispers, and the first stretch is slow, so slow you feel every give in your body, every hot inch pushing past resistance until heâs halfway inside you. âGood. Good. That's my girl.â
Matt exhales through his nose, and lowers himself further until the weight of his chest pins you more securely between his arms. The shift brings him ever deeper, the blunt crown of his bare cock kissing high inside you, a dizzy pressure that makes your thighs tighten instinctively, your legs locking around his waist in a desperate bid to bring him closer.
âChrist, easy,â he laughs softly, bracing one arm beside your head, the other cupping your knee to keep it snug against his side. â...Doing so well.â
The next push is deeper, bottoming out so the fat head nudges the tender seal of your womb and your nails dig into his shoulders. You try to breathe but the stretch of him has taken most of your air. He stays there, deep, letting you get used to the fullness.Â
âThatâs it,â he praises, when your breath finally steadies. âIâve got you.â
It seems most of your relationship with him is like this, you pushing back with irritation, and him saying, without condition, Iâve got you, I have you. At this moment it does not matter to you that you have him as well, all that matters to you is how you are his in totality, without question. Matt starts to move then, slow rolls of his hips that never let him leave you, each retreat only enough to make the next drive of his hips into you sink that much more. The motion is purposeful, coaxing your body to take him again and again until there is no part of you left that he hasnât touched. The mattress dips and breathes with his rhythm, his hand sliding down your thigh, spanning your hip, settling there with a possessive weight.
âGood girl,â he rasps between thrusts, each word laced with heat. âNow, youâre gonna let me fill you up, and youâre gonna keep it. No squirming away, no running to the bathroom after, okay? Iâm not asking.â
Your walls clamp at the words without meaning to, a slick, needy pull that has his hips pressing flush to yours. He catches it, chuckling into your temple. âYou liked that?â Matt shakes his head, as if he canât believe the extent of his fondness for you. âMy girl wants it. Iâm gonna give it to you, then.â
âShut up,â you mumble, cheeks burning in shame.
âShh. Look at me.â His fingers tilt your chin until you have no choice. âThis isnât just to help you relax. This is for us. You hear me?â
ââŚFor us,â you repeat shakily, feeling more and more weak by the second, hypnotized fully by the roughness of his voice.Â
âThatâs right.â He kisses your cheek, then rocks into you again, slow and deep, the motion dragging over that spot that makes your breath falter. Youâre going to stay here and rest âtil Iâm sure Iâve put my baby in you. Okay?â
The words make your pulse spike; you feel the faint twitch of him inside you, his hips answering his own thought.
âImagine it,â he says lowly, hips pressing you into the mattress. âWalking around with me inside you all the time, everyone thinking youâre just my girl, when you could be so, so much more than that. Yeah?â
Your toes curl at the deliberate weight of him pressing to your deepest point.Â
âSo stop thinking for a while, and let me take care of whatâs mine. You trust me, donât you?â
âI trust you,â you breathe, and this time itâs steady.
âThatâs all I need to hear.â His thrusts grow heavier, not faster, but each one a deep brand that keeps him buried. The heat between you is thick and sultry to the point of suffocating, your skin catching, your breath matching his. On the last push in, he holds you there, mouth slotting over yours in a salty, openmouthed kiss that swallows your gasp as he starts to spill his seed into you.
âKeep it,â Matt grunts into your mouth, hips grinding to work it deeper. âEvery drop. Maybe this way youâll actually take care of yourself, when youâre carrying my baby too.â
When he finally draws back an inch, itâs only to press his palm low over your belly, broad and steady as if only his touch alone can keep it inside you. His thumb strokes idly over your skin in an absentminded way youâve seen him do when heâs thinking through a case. Then his hand drifts lower, fingers slipping between your thighs again, delving into your spent cunt until your breath catches. You know the motion isnât seeking to pull anything outâitâs to keep you full, to send his own seed deeper into you like heâs marking you from the inside.
âChrist, youâre soft,â he murmurs when you squeeze around him without thinking, and thereâs a faint smile in his voice. âJust like that. Hold it in.â
âMattâŚâ Your voice is small and sleepy, almost childish but with that unshakable shred of resistance youâve been running on all week. âI have to⌠finish my pââ
âYouâll finish it,â he says firmly. âIn the morning.â
âI canât⌠I have toââ
âYou can.â His mouth ghosts your jaw, warm and unhurried. âYou will. And youâll be sharper for it if you close those pretty eyes for a few hours.â
You want to argue but the words dissolve when his fingers ease from you, his hand staying heavy and protective where it was. He lifts his head just enough that you can see his face, faintly lit from the emanation of the still-lit lampâthe clean line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, the faint shine of sweat on his upper lip. You canât stop your eyes from tracking over the faint crease at his brow thatâs still there even now.
âGod, youâreââ you start, then huff softly at yourself. You canât bring yourself to say handsome, for some playful fear of inflating his ego too much. âYouâre gonna crush your glasses.â
He laughs under his breath like heâs not sure you mean it, and reaches blindly around the mattress until his fingers find his glasses. He slides them on, pushes them up the bridge of his nose, and leans over you again. âBetter?â
âMm,â you hum, too worn out to bother putting the rest into words, but you know he hears the answer in your voice.
He kisses you then, feeling the taste of salt on his tongue, and he paces it as if thereâs no rush to get anywhere else. âThere you go. Nothing left to do. Just stay here with me.â
Your lids are heavy. The ache in your muscles has melted into a warm languor that makes every thought feel far away. You tell yourself youâll get up in a minute, maybe ten, but Mattâs thumb is tracing lazy circles over your skin and your body sinks deeper into the mattress as though answering a call.
âSleep,â he says, so soft it might as well be a suggestion from inside your own head.
The deadlines will still be there in the morning. For now, you let yourself close your eyes and breathe him in.
summary: after a brush with death on patrol, mattâs recovery is impossibly quick. itâs a miracle, him coming back stronger and sharper, until you realize heâs also come back wrong.
a/n: i know itâs late but iâm sorry guys my porn keeps growing plot. i literally want to eat matt â˘âŠâ˘
kinktober '25 masterlist
Mattâs dying on the couch, which means itâs a normal Thursday.
Peter had brought him back an hour ago. Heâd swung in through the window with Mattâs dead weight over his shoulder, voice pitched high with panic but still unfailingly polite. âNo hospital. He wouldnât let me,â Peter had said, laying Matt down on the leather couch as gently as possible. Then a quick, awkward squeeze of your shoulder, a kiss to your cheek that smelled like sweat and ozone, and he was gone againâoff to save someone else.Â
A sweet kid. Noble calling. Dirty work done well. Youâd thought Matt was doing that same dirty work just as well until tonight.
Itâs not like you havenât been here before. Tilted against your boyfriendâs inert body, willing him back. These are familiar things, much so that you can usually look back on them with only a wary grimace.Â
But tonight had been⌠Different. His lips were gray when Peter set him down. His pulse had been shallow, his breath like torn paper. Even now, as you sit vigil, the back of your throat tastes like copper.Â
No hospitals, you think bitterly. Watching the slow rise and fall of Mattâs chest, you feel less like a caregiver and more like a mourner, counting the sluggish, faltering rhythm of his pulse, waiting for the last beat.
Your head lolls against the armrest. Youâre halfway to slipping into another ugly, disjointed dream when Mattâs whole body jerks beneath you, and you nearly scream. His breath spasms out of him in sick, rattling garglesâdesperate animal sounds, like something dying. His hand shoots up blindly, pawing at the air until it finds your arm, gripping it with sudden, shocking strength.
âMatt!â Youâre back to your senses in an instant, clutching him frantically. You plant a hand on his shoulder to keep him down, feeling the tremor of his muscles beneath your fingers. âDonât move! Itâs me. Itâs me, honey. Youâre in the apartment. Youâre safe.â
Your head drops forward in a moment of pure, blinding relief. Oh, Jesus, thank God youâre alive.
He groans. Itâs a thick, agonized sound but undeniably alive. His eyes flutter open, wild and unfocused. You curse under your breath, heart ricocheting in your ribs. âWhat happened?â
Matt blinks hard, like heâs trying to remap the room from scratch. His tongue drags over cracked lips. âI⌠got shot,â he rasps finally, and his hand drifts down his chest like heâs checking for a hole.
âShot?â The small relief youâd been nursing detonates into pure terror. âShot? Where?â
Surely Peter would have said something. And the wound would be obvious, wouldnât it?
âIt went through mââ His fingers pause, pressed right over his heart. The fabric there isnât torn. He shouldnât be able to press there at all, not that deeply. â...My heart.â
What? Your eyes drop to where his hand rests, looking closer, and your stomach flips. Itâs blackâso dark it blends into his shirt until you really look. Not cloth. Not blood. Something woven, webbing, but unlike Peterâs. Thick, tar-like strands forming a sort of gauze, covering a ripped hole in his clothes and plugging directly into the wound beneath.Â
As you watch, it shifts, rippling faintly with each sluggish beat of his heart.Â
You reel back. âMatt, what the hell is that?â
âItâsâ some kind of bandage,â Matt croaks. With two fingers, he presses down again on the black mass experimentally, and you cringe openly at the sight. âIt saved me. I donât⌠remember much. I got sloppy. Stupid. Tracking this⌠this high-roller smuggling ring, then I donât know, I shouldâve heard it comingââ He falters, expression tightening. âIt just happened. Then there was just something coming over meâŚâ
Suddenly heâs sitting up. The strength of it makes you flinch backâyouâre gonna hurt yourself, Mattyâand curse instinctively. His eyes are clearer now, brighter. âI should be dead right now,â he says quickly. âI can feel itââ He spreads his fingers over the blackness. âItâs knitting me back together.â
As if pleased by the recognition, the thing twitches under his palm. Thick strands stretch slightly outward, a black star on his chest.
Fuck. You donât want to deal with this. Not tonight. âWhat is it?â you mumble, peering at the patch curiously.Â
âFeels like⌠webs.âÂ
âPeter? Peterâs work? Like a biofilm?â
He shrugs. âI donât know. Could be. Itâs patching me up pretty quickly.âÂ
âOkay. Matt.â You sigh, placing your hands firmly on his shoulders. âBandage or not, this is insane. We need to go to a hospital. Now.â
âI feel alright, sweetie. Really.â He licks his lips timidly. âI feelâ okay. Iâm not any more banged up than usual, I promise.â
âYou said it yourself, you got shot!â you cry. You feel like youâre going crazyâisnât he just a little bit hurt? âMatt, I⌠I saw you. You wereâ Peter had to carry you back, and you were really pale. Like you were going to die. And suddenly youâre just okay?â You rub your knuckles against your cheek, agitated. âWe donât know how long youâll hold up. Donât you want to get checked? Just to be sure?â
âIâm not exactly in good shape to be traveling,â he says tightly.
âI thought you said you felt alright,â you snap.
âNot that much.â
âIâll call a cab.â
âCanât I just rest here for a little while?â he pleads, and the small, human sound of it chips away at your resolve. How could you ever deny Matt, asking for rest? That in itself was rare enough.
You sigh, defeated. You should be taking care of Matt, not fighting him. But the feeling about that black thing is terrible, desperate. And wrong.Â
Glancing again at Mattâs slumped form, you crawl up and melt into him, careful not to press too much against the wound. âFine,â you mumble into his neck, the slightly acrid smell of his flesh more pronounced than usual. âTomorrow.â
âYeah, sweetie. Iâm sorry for scaring you. Iâll get checked in the morning, alright? I promise. Really, please, hereââ
He takes your hand, pressing it against his heart. âStill beating,â he says.
Itâs a strange sensationâtough and sinuous, but strangely slippery. Itâs warm, almost feverishly alive under your palm, pulsing in step with his heartâbut for a split second, you swear it syncs with yours, too. You yank your hand back, and thereâs no trace of it on your fingers to be found.Â
âSee, sweetheart?â he chuckles, stroking your hair soothingly. âNothing to worry about.âÂ
Youâve seen Matt come back from brutal nights beforeâbruised, broken, even crushed under a building once. Unbelievable rebounds, but never like this. Not slipping toward death one hour and sitting straighter the next, pupils bright and skin hot.Â
âI donât know, Matt.â Your voice thins. There are things you canât explain; isnât that why people believe in God? But youâve always been like this, a terrible perfectionist, someone who canât just accept a good thing.
Maybe you should just be thankful.
You sidle closer, burying your face in his neck. âJusâ donât feel right,â you mutter, eyes closing as he mumbles something you canât make out, low and indistinct, in that voice of his meant to put you straight to sleep.
Count your blessings, you chide yourself as you drift away. Heâs alive. Thatâs what matters. In any case, youâll make sense of it in the morning.
Itâs an empty bed you wake up to. Mattâs side of the sheets is cool, the dent of his body already smoothed out. The smell of rain and iron still lingers faintly in the apartment, but heâs gone. You sit up groggily, fingers poking into your eyes, and fire off a text before youâve even opened them completely: did you go to urgent care yet?
Of course, for the rest of the morning, thereâs nothing.
But as much as you hate to admit it, for someone who got shot point-blank in the chest only yesterday, itâs somewhat more realistic to believe you imagined the whole thing. Because when he walks in the door from work, Matt looks⌠good. Not just âI made it through another nightâ good. Healthy. Vibrant. His skinâs warm instead of chalky. The bruises that should be blooming under his cheek have already faded to faint yellow smudges. Heâs even carrying fucking groceries.
Heâs sweeter than sweet that night, a little intense but steady. And for the rest of the week, he doesnât groan about his back when he lowers himself onto the couch; he doesnât even wince when you lean against him.
Foggy texts you from the office: Your boyâs on fire today. Smugger than usual. Fire emoji fire emoji fire emoji.
Even after going out as Daredevil (much to your initial protests), he doesnât wake up groaning and grumbling about his backâa usual source of your needless poking fun. Instead, heâs better than fine.
You tell yourself itâs a welcome change. Matt can be happy, he should; itâs what youâve always prayed for, isnât it? Matt, happy, healthy, laughingâitâs almost as if heâd been born again.Â
Youâve just about forgotten about it when, a few nights later, Matt comes in through the window after patrol. Itâs late, familiar enough that you donât make a fuss over the soft thud of his boots on the floor, the smell of sweat and city-grime still clinging to him. Youâre standing at the counter with half a mug of tea left when he finally slips behind you, nosing into your neck.Â
âJesus, Mr. Murdock,â you tease, swatting at him. âYou reek. Pee-yew.â
He does. Itâs foul enough to wrinkle your nose, but his low laugh feeds vibrations into your skin, and you giggle despite yourself.
âYou love it,â he murmurs. Sure enough, you do. His hands are already roaming, stronger and more insistent than usual.Â
Itâs been a while, so the warmth between you sparks quickly, melting into heavy kissing with teeth and lips and hands tugging at clothes. The routine is so normal, so Matt, that you almost forget about it until youâve tugged his shirt off.
Your breath catches.
The black patch isnât just there anymore. His chestâhis skinâis now laced with large veins of black, its expanse spreading outward from the center. It glistens like dense spider silk beneath his skin, inky and alive.
âMatt.â
He mouths at you again, going back in for another kiss. You push him back, hard, trying to keep your voice steady, âMatt, itâs growing.â
âMhm?â he murmurs flirtatiously, still reaching for you. âWhatâs growing?â
You feel awful for killing the mood. Really, you want to pretend you didnât see itâMatt himself seems to not feel anything unusualâbut itâs impossible, given the fact that you know it can move. âYourâ um. The patch. I thought you said you were going to change it?â You blink, peering at it closely. Surely it couldnât be hygienic for it to still be there after a weekâyou thought Matt had gotten rid of it all this time, like youâd discussed a few days earlier. âYou canât see it, but itâs spreading. We should get that looked at. I donât know what the hell it is.â
âSweetheart, I feel fine.â
âYou donât look fine,â you say hotly, feeling the vein at your neck throb. âJesus, if you could see what you look likeâ Matty, itâsâitâs all over you.â
He sighs sharply, pulling away with finality. You donât get the weary sigh; itâs like heâs already tired of the argument. He paces the small kitchen, still half-undressed, and says, âWell, what do you want me to do?â
âWhat Iâve been telling you to doâgo to a hospital.â
âYou know hospitals make me sick. I canât stand theââ
âYeah, yeah, the chemicals and the beepingâ fuck!â You grab your phone, thumbing at the screen furiously to call a cab, 911, anything. âMatt, this thing is going to kill you. It looks really infected, itâ it looksââ
âWhat?â He cuts you off. âAlien?â
You blink.
The wordâs caught in your chest.
â...Yeah. Alien,â you repeat, phone forgotten. Your heartâs hammering in your ears. It isnât impossible. The Chitauri attacks were only a little over a decade ago, after all, and all the Avengers collaterals after that. âAlien. Exactly that.â
Matt breathes out a low, humorless laugh. âYeah. Thatâs what I figured, too.â
What?Â
âWhat? And?â
âAnd Iâve never felt more myself than I do now,â he says steadily.Â
You stare at him.Â
âWhat the fuck?â you whisper. Thatâs his answer to a possible parasite hitching a ride in his own skin? âSeriously? We talked about this. I thought you said you got rid of it!â
âI never said that. I said Iâd handle it. I am handling it.â
âHandling it? Donâtââ Youâre practically shaking now, feet shuffling to stumble backwards when Matt attempts to come close. âWait. Donât come near me, Matt.âÂ
He stops, his expression softening: the corners of his mouth dipping slightly. Itâs an expression youâd always found reassuring. In the past, that is.Â
âListen.â He steps closer, calling your name, hands raised as if to calm you. âI know this looks crazy, but itâs not what you think. Itâs not an infection. Itâs not eating me alive.âÂ
âWell, it sure as hell looks like it.âÂ
âI know itâs hard to understand. I get it. Can I tell you something, sweetheart?â
âYou better start talking right now, Murdock, youâre freaââ
âOkay. Okay.â He holds another hand out to you warily, slowly crossing the distance, like youâre a cornered animal. âEverâ Ever since I was a kid, and I got my senses, itâs been aâ a constant torment. All this time, the noise, the sounds and the tastes and the smells â theyâre all like one⌠one oppressive wall, hitting me over and over and over. Slamming into me every single second of every single day.â
Heâs so close now youâre sure he can feel the gallop of your heart.
âAnd now,â he continues, âitâs just⌠gone. The wallâs gone. Everything I sense, every sound or heartbeat or lie, itâs all⌠Woven, instead, into this one single, perfect thread. Legible. For me, and only me. For the first time in my life, I can hear myself think.â
Your throatâs dry. What the fuck is going on?
âAnd this isâ the... alienâs doing, or something?âÂ
He nods, licking his lips. âWasnât this what you wanted?â he asks. âIâm not falling apart anymore. Iâm not coming home bleeding, or half-dead. I haveââ he laughs once, sharp and sardonic, ââcontrol over myself, and itâs never been clearer.â
âItâs control by something else, Matt! Things like this donât come for free. What happens when it collects? When it takes over and makes you do something youâll regret?â
âYou donât understand. Itâs still me. It wonât take over me like you think.â He swallows, his unfocused eyes blinking agitatedly. âIt listens to me, and I listen to it. It tells me which alleys are in trouble. Which doors I can kick in and walk out of with fewer people hurt.âÂ
Matt takes your hand in his. âThe other night, it let me find someone who was going to hurt someone else, and I stopped him before he even got there. Jesus, I was so quick, and I didnât even get hurt. Maybe I left him breathing. Maybe I didnât.â He sighs, drawing back. âThe point is, it let me stop someone that wouldâve left a child without a father, and I didnât even break a sweat.â
âWait. Wait, Mattââ
Matt tilts his head.
âMaybe I didnât?ââ you repeat, voice pitching high. You canât hide the disgust in your voice. âDid youâ did you kill him?â
âItâs not that, sweetheart. Please. Iâm trying to tell you.â He drags a hand over his face tiredly. âI used to think God took my sight for a reason, but now I realize thereâs noâ no cosmic balance, no big plan, nothing. Itâs up to us and us alone to do good. But thisâŚâ He gestures to his chest, where the black mass is pulsing under his skin, dark veins crawling higher, â...with this, it tells me exactly what I need to do. I can bring infinitely more good. No more half-measures. No more redemption, for the people who donât want it. This city doesnât need the Daredevil Iâve been. It needs the one Iâm supposed to be.â
âMatt, you soundââ batshit insane, you think, biting the words back. âYou donât even sound like yourself right now. You donât believe that.â
His expression doesnât flicker. Matt gives you a little, one-shouldered shrug, noncommittal as if to brush you off, and moves instead to take your face into his hands.Â
âItâs all me,â he murmurs, thumb rubbing warmly into your cheeks, and youâre suddenly aware of how hot his skin feels. You want nothing else than to believe in him. âI promise. Iâm in control. My mind has never been clearer.â
âŚMaybe I didnât. Maybe I didnât. Maybe I didnâtâŚ
He comes over you slowly, like a tide, pulling you upward into a kiss. You melt despite yourself, tasting sweat and something acrid.Â
Then you bite down hard onto his bottom lip, sinking your teeth in until youâre sure youâve drawn blood.
Yanking backward, he recoils, a revolted look on his faceâthen he breaks into an amused, ragged laugh, spitting the blood-speckled spit on the hardwood floor.
âJesus,â Matt spits. âWant to try that again?â
âCome back to me, Matt.âÂ
âI keep telling you,â he murmurs, and his voice is half-ragged, half-rapturous. âIt is me. Just more of me. What I was supposed to be.â
Something stirs on his shoulder. Black tendrils uncoiling, larger than youâve ever seen, growing beyond his skin and stretching lazily into the air like theyâd been waiting for permission to move. You flinch, breath catching in your throat.
âWhatâwhat the fââ
âIt wonât hurt you,â he promises, black veins snaking at his temples as his eyes shine fever-bright. âIâd never let it.â
You want to throw up, but thatâs not going to help anyone. Deep breath. Remember that this is Matt. The same Matt who curls around you when the nightmares come, who swears under his breath when the kettle whistles. Matt who comes back from patrol, broken-bodied and needing you. Matt who doesnât kill.
But itâs also not him.Â
The tendril brushes your jaw, tracing down your throat like a fingertip. Matt leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. âDonât you feel it? The way it moves? It knows what you want.â His voice dips into something velvety and wrong. âKnows what youâve always wanted. Knows what we can be.â
âW-we?â
âYes.â The word is simple and heavy. âUs. Not just you and me. Something better.â
The black tar at his shoulders stir like restless wings.
âMatt, please,â you whisper, trembling.
âIâm asking you to trust me.â
You want to say no. To say yes. To believe him.
âIâm not going to hurt you,â he says again, and itâs Mattâs voice, raw and quiet. âI can promise you that.â
Fuck.Â
Somethingâs loosening inside you, a crack in the wall youâve built.
The tendrils creep higher around his body, spreading all throughout. They pulse faintly with his heartbeat, and when his mouth returns to yours itâs softer this timeâcoaxing, ever coaxing. His tongue tastes of copper and heat, the kiss feeding some terrible hunger in both of you.
And against every nerve screaming that this is wrong, your hands slide up his chest and find his neck, fingers brushing the slick edge of the living black tendrils.Â
It thrums under your touch. Alive.
Matt groans into the kiss, deep and low, and for a flicker of a moment itâs just you and him again. The black recedes, and when you pull back, itâs retreated just enough to bare his face. Your Mattâs face, handsome and angelic. Just as if itâs back to normal, a usual night with his body heavy and familiar against yours. Two people. Enough to be whole. Enough to be symbiotic.
Then the tendrils cinch you tighter, lifting you up to press against his chest like you weigh nothing. All of a sudden, you feel like youâve downed too much liquor, your mind swimming and your skin on fire from where the strange strings of tar press against it.Â
âCâmon, think about it.â
Your throat works around the knot in it. âMatt, I donât want to lose you to this.â
âIâm right here. Every piece of me is here.â Mattâs mouth ghosts yours, another promise of the familiar, then further down your neck, seeking the pulse point betraying your frenzy. âTell me if you want to stop, and I will. I promise. Do you want me to stop?â
But thereâs no dissent to be spoken when the black mass winds around your thighs, brushing the hem of your shirt just like he would. Of course, only this time itâs not your loverâs warm, calloused hands but the living blackness that climbs your calves and snakes over your arms. It slides up your stomach, spreading hot over your skin.Â
âWell?â
âNo,â you hear yourself squeak, the words torn out raggedly. Thatâs just the thing with you, isnât it? You canât seem to resist Matt, this fact holding true regardless of whatever form he takes on. ââNo, donât stop, Matt.â You swallow, steeling yourself. You canât meet his eyes.
His thumb digs harder into your wrist. âI donât want to take, sweetheart. I want you to let me in.â
Your lips part, but thereâs no sound. You canât answer himânot when youâre terrified of what let me in must mean. His forehead bows to yours; you can smell his sweat and the hot tang of blood in his breath.Â
Itâs Matt, but itâs not. Itâs him, and something less.Â
And something more.
âYesâŚâ The word falls out of you, trembling. You canât meet his eyes. âYes, Matthew. Iâ.. I let you in.â
One moment youâre simply looking down, pleading. And the next: his mouth is on yours again before you know it. The sharp, heady kiss is feeding the foul taste of blood onto your tongue, and it takes a second for you to realize, with a sharp prickle, that itâs yours. Your bottom lipâs been cut by pointed teeth, flooding your mouth with salt.Â
The pain may sting, begging for recoil, but itâs not the first time heâs made you bleed. And like every time before, you find it only more intoxicating than the last.Â
An eye for an eye; a wound for a wound.
In a show of impatience, Mattâs symbiote snaps its tendrils, wrenching into the collar of your shirt to shred it away. Strips of cotton fall uselessly to the floor, and you gasp at the cool air brushing your bare skin for a heartbeat before itâs swallowed again by the damp, hot grip of the black mass coiling around your ribs and waist.Â
You donât realize youâve been trembling until Mattâs hands â his hands â find your hips, grounding you as the alien limbs peel away at the last of your clothes, leaving you fully bared.Â
âIâm here,â Matt promises, âdonât worry. Iâm in control.â
A tendril coils your knee, yanking it up and around his hip to grind your core against the hardness in his pants. Another one slips lower, sliding between your thighs like Mattâs own fingers would, inspecting your throbbing cunt with such an unnatural slickness that your knees buckled instantly.
He laughs against your lips. âAw, sweetheart. Youâre soaked.â His nose drags along your cheek, inhaling like heâs feeding right on your shame. âDo I have myself to thank, I wonder? OrââÂ
A tendril slithers down, parting the folds of your pussy to gather the slick dripping freely from youâusing it to rub slow, maddening circles into your clit. The jolt of it rips a whimper from you, and Mattâs lips curl in a smile you can only describe as predatory. ââOr is it this?â
âJesus, MatthewâŚâ you mumble, the heat flushing across your face. Your flustered state only fuels his amusement; laughter muffled into your mouth as he kisses you deeper, hips starting to rut against you. The thick length of his cock ruts against your bare slit until you break into yet another whine.Â
His grip on your ass tightens, hauling you up, forcing you to cling to him. Your toes barely scrape the floor before he drives you down onto the counter forcefully.Â
âIâll find out soon enough,â he promises. Metal clinksâthe sound of his belt unfastening making your stomach drop in anticipation. He works his pants open just enough for his cock to spring free. The sight of it never fails to make your heart skip: heâs so flushed, heavy; twitching and obscenely hard. Youâre given an incongruously gentle kiss to the forehead just before the blunt head of his cock drags through your folds, smearing your arousal while the tendrils hold you wide.Â
You sob when he notches against your entrance, hips bucking helplessly forward as he breaches you more and more. You clench around him, desperately trying to take him in.Â
âToo much?âÂ
You shake your head frantically. Youâd die if he stopped now.
With an amused chuckle, Matt sinks deeper and deeper until you can swear the swollen tip is pressing against your womb. He holds still there, breathing brokenly into your ear. Locked around you, caging you in, his arms are black-veined and monstrous. Nearly everything below his neck has been taken by it â by the writhing mass of darkness that crawls across him, alive, appearing and disappearing at will. Patches of human skin show and vanish again beneath its tide, so thereâs no telling where Matt ends and the thing begins. Heâs taller, broader, filled out with something inhuman. But his lips still find yours, kissing you through the pain.
âMatty,â you mewl into his neck, voice cracking desperately, âM-Matty⌠moveâ.. Please.â
Symbiote or not, nothing can change this about him, at least. Mattâs never been one to deny your pleasure.
The tendrils seize your breasts, pinching and tugging at your nipples until you whimper against his mouth. Another limb pries your thighs wider, so when Matt finally rolls his hips backâand drives in again, harderâyouâre taking him so deep the counter squeaks beneath every thrust.Â
In itself, youâre already dizzy with it, but Mattâs symbiote seems to be anything but easily satisfied. Another slick arm snakes lower, prodding at your already-stretched entrance. It forces its way in beside his cock, the pressure blinding and merciless. Your back arches at the intrusion, but it pays you no heed. It only takes. It winds sinuously around him inside you, coiling tight around the thick length buried in your cunt. Utterly wrecked, you sob into Mattâs mouth, so brokenly into his mouth.Â
âFuck,â Matt growls. His hands crush your hips down, dragging you onto him harder. âSo fucking tight. Jesus, honey, youâre just choking me, arenât you?â
The tendril pulses, swelling his cock inside you until you swear your lower belly bulges with the stretch. With your nerves lit to fire, you cry out, clutching his shoulders, nerves lit to fire.
âFuck, Matt, that feels soâ hahâ so fucking goodâŚâ
âYeah?â He huffs shakily, smiling so charmingly at you. Itâs all a distraction as he draws his hips back, only to plunge forward with a punishing roll that sends you keening.Â
âFeel that?â he pants. His handâslick and crawling with blackâdrags down your belly until he presses against the swell, forcing you to feel the shape of him inside you. âRight there. Where weâre connected. Thatâs us, sweetheart.â
Us?
âFeels right, doesnât it? Exactly where we belong?â
âY-yesâoh fuckââ
âBetter than right.â He thrusts into you harder. âThis is what you were made for.â
Itâs at this that the tendril wound around him suddenly blossoms inside you, splitting like a flower into smaller limbs. These writhe against every raw nerve, stroking the swollen, tender spot deep inside you, licking at it mercilessly. The sensation rips a strangled squeal from your chest, your legs kicking helplessly and feet driving into his lower back.Â
Us. You understand now, itâs impossible to separate them. He rides you through it, each movement of his drives this thing deeper, pounding with the writhing spiral along his cock inside you. Itâs a sensation without equal, mind-melting, obliterating. His teeth scrape your shoulder, the stubble burning the balmy skin.
Hunger and desperation move as one, all of it funneling into you.Â
If not for the shifting armor covering him, your nails would be raking bloody lines down his back. A physical prayer to match the broken noise in your throat. Instead, even your supplication is strangled when another tendril lashes across your neck, crossing tight and binding you exactly as Matt has always loved to do.Â
âOpen up,â Matt grunts feverishly. His forehead presses against yours, sweat dripping down his spider-veined temple. âEnjoy it.â
Ever obedient, instinct makes your jaw fall slack. Your head lolls back, spit spilling down your chin as another tendril seizes the opening, shoving into your mouth. Slick and merciless, it crams into your throat until you gag. Your tongue rolls helplessly over the ridges as it swells and throbs like a living cock.Â
It twists in satisfaction, sliding deeper until youâre sure youâll choke. Bitter venom fills your mouth, numbingly electric, and your eyes water as it fucks your throat in time with his cock pounding your cunt.Â
Filthy girl. The voice is Mattâs, but not quiteâone doubled voice, monstrous and synthetic, booming through your bones like feedback in your skull. So good to us.
Before you can even unravel your thoughts that have tangled over themselves in horror, another tendril snakes lowerâlower than Mattâs already splitting you open, nudging at your untouched rim. The jolt of panic through you; squirming, you squeal weaklyâmmphâaround the gag in your mouth, shaking your head. Not that fast.Â
His palm clamps your hip hard enough to ache. âYou can take it,â he rasps, dark and coaxing. âI know you can, sweetheart, youâre a big girl.â
But the pain you expect is more delicious than anything when it breaches your hole, burning hotly, stretching you inch by inch until youâre finally impaled on three fronts. At will, the newest one inside you reshapes itself to sync with Mattâs thrustsâpistoning in tandem until your body convulses around them both.Â
The wet choking sounds pouring from you only drive him wilder. By skin and symbiote, he feels every squeeze and tremor of you. It feeds straight into his nerves, the most delicious drug there is.
âJust listen to yourself,â he grunts, pleased. âYou love this, donât you?â
You do. You do. You donât know why it took you so long to admit it, but fuck, you do.
All of it is melting your mind. Your stomach swells, visibly bulging with him, with them, and every movement makes you watch yourself split open for him. Itâs at this another climax crashes over you violently, your body convulsing as your cunt gushes. The tendril at your throat withdraws suddenly, leaving it sore and raw so your screamâs free to be heard as you squirt around him.
Matt snarls as your cunt wrings him, rutting like an animal. His hand knots in your hair, yanking your head back, and with newly sharpened teeth, he bites down into your bared throat. Granted, itâs shallowânot enough to truly hurt youâbut itâs enough to puncture skin, draw some blood. He laps at it as if starved, and you convulse helplessly at the searing sting of it, vision whiting out as your body milks him raw.
He doesnât let you collapse. His hand fists harder in your hair, pulling your face up to his. Like this, heâs breathtaking, an angelâs face corrupted by the black veins crawling wild at his temples. His unseeing eyes, pupils blown wide and bottomless.
He kisses you hard, feral and slick with blood.
âYouâre mine,â he groans into your mouth. âAll of this, itâs us. Itâs us and youâre mine. Not even you can change that now.â
âYesâ yes, mâyours, Mattyâ God⌠Just yoursââ
âGood. Fucking take it, thenâ take us,â he grunts, his voice splitting halfway, warped and doubled. âEvery last drop.â
He drives into you one last time, his cock twitching as he spills inside you. His hot seed floods you, tainted with black venom, forced deeper by the tendril surging around him. It gushes out of you around the seal of his cock, dripping down your thighs.
Silence follows, heavy and unsteady, broken apart only by the sound of your ragged breathing and his harsher panting. His weight holds you down, chest rising and falling against yours. The counterâs currently a mess, smeared in⌠countless more fluids than you care to catalog right now.
Matt cradles your head, black veins still crawling faintly across his temples. His hand covers yours on the counter, dwarfing it. And from his own back, tendrils extend and ripple faintly like shadowed wings, curling inward to enclose you in an embrace.
A loverâs embrace. A loverâs kiss. These things he gives you, tender enough to undo you. Head still pounding, itâs so easy to let yourself believe itâs Matt again. Your Matt. With his mouth on yours, with his arms caging you in so devotedly, youâre sinking into it, dizzy and drunk on the warmth heâs giving you. Itâs almost impossible to find fault in the words that had chilled you to the bone only moments ago.
Maybe I left him breathing. Maybe I didnât.Â
This city doesnât need the Daredevil Iâve been. It needs the one Iâm supposed to be.
a/n: donât worry guys, if symbiote!matt gets too scary we can just bang pots and pans to exorcise him, theyâre both sensitive to sound (ËśË áľ ËËś)Â
a/n: im back!!!! here's part two to bed chem, which you don't really have to read to understand this but i am planning at least a few more parts to this so you should if you like this dynamic! ive also decided each part is gonna have a song that goes with it called a bonus track-- thanks so much for your patience as ive readjusted to school and gotten used to balancing school with work and writing. i love you guys and hope you enjoy :) (also yes readers part time job is inspired by my own part time job i hated lol)
warnings: SMUT!!!!!!!!! sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamic, dom matt (but not in a crazy intense way but its def there), mutual masturbation, phone sex, use of toys, cursing, nicknames (honey, sweetheart, kid), begging, dirty talk, orgasm denial, reader has big money insecurities, changing tenses between past and present, fem reader (but no other characteristics are given other than anatomy) im pretty sure there are other things too but oh well!
word count: 3.6k
summary: you and matt start to explore what your dynamic means (it means lots and lots of fucking and definitely no deeper feelings)
pairing: matt murdock x fem! reader
bed chem series: i // ii
now playing: bed chem - sabrina carpenter "come right on me, i mean camaraderie/said you're not in my time zone, but you wanna be/where art thou? why not uponeth me?/see it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy."
bonus track: naked in manhattan - chappell roan
As it turns out, you have many talents. Spending Mattâs money is not one of them.
Youâve been his sugar baby for three months.
You left his hotel room with a wallet full of cash and his number in your phone, and.. conveniently ignored his contact information for over a week. You thought about itâyou really did, you thought about it for days, and then you decided to google him. Your mistake.
Matthew Murdock, Attorney at Law. A high-profile criminal defense lawyer who had defended criminals beyond your comprehension. Names you had heard in passing on the news, but you never thought to look into who their lawyer was.
And he wanted you. He had fucked you better than anyone, ruined your vibratorâand anyone elseâfor you. You had tried once, over the course of that week, to get off on your vibrator but Mattâs voice rang in your head, teasing you, telling you how heâd fuck you properly.
So, you threw your vibrator at the wall and decided youâd just never be sexually satisfied again.
That Saturday, you had your shift at the job youâd swore you quit after high school. It had been a disturbingly hot day, and you worked at a seafood restaurant, packing up to-go orders. And for some reason, people loved to order seafood to-go when it was hot. They also loved to not tip. Hundreds of dollars of lobster, tuna, salmon, butter, oil, clams, pastaâit drove you insane. It drove you insane to see the same thing happening to the waitresses.
You had gotten the job when you were sixteen. You hated it then, too. You hated smelling like fish, you hated being on your feet all day, and you hated how they worked you without any benefits, breaks or bonuses during the Christmas season, their busiest time of the year. But you stayed. You needed the money, you told yourself, and your day job didnât cover more than your monthly rent. So the couple hundred bucks you did make went towards food, and emergency funds for whatever you needed throughout the month. And thatâs pretty much it.
And sure, you knew you didnât need to work thereâat least this month. What Matt had given you the night you met would cover your rent, food and then some.. but you were already scheduled to work, and the idea of having actual savings thrilled you.
But tonight had been hell. Your body ached. A greasy, grimy layer of sweat and fish caked your skin. You mustâve sent out hundreds of orders, and you were perfect. You gave everyone everything they needed, had gotten food spilt on you three times, and gotten yelled at twice. And then you cleaned the entire kitchen, as was required of you, before finally counting your tips. And you came out with five dollars and eighty-two cents.
You clocked out of your shift and walked towards the subway stop you use to get home as your brain filled with static. The air had cooled significantly since you went in for your shift, and the reality of the night bit at your skin. Then, before you knew what you were doing, you took out your phone as you went down the stairs and waited for your train.
And you called Matthew.
Who had spent the past week wondering what happened to you. Why you were ignoring him.
But he wanted you to make the first moveâa gentle reminder that you had all the power here. Just like he said to you before you slept with him.
He picked up immediately. No hesitation, and you wouldnât even process that until much later. As soon as you heard his voice, you felt the tears in your eyes,
âHey, sweetheart.â He hummed, and all you could find it in yourself to say is,
âHi.â
A beat.
âEverything okay?â
You nodded but felt stupid immediately.
âYeah,â You breathed out. âWhat are you doing tomorrow?â You wondered.
âI have church at nine,â He answered, âBut Iâll be done by ten thirty. And then Iâm free. What about you?â
You let out a shaky exhale.
âI donât know.â You responded, but you did. Youâd shake off the exhaustion, do your laundry and meal prep. Youâre really into meal prepping because it makes living on a budget and working two jobs much easier. But you had this thoughtâyour Matthew money was sitting in the drawer of your nightstand. Where your vibrator used to live. You could get more than just groceries for your lunches and dinners. You could go to a farmersâ market.
This idea thrilled you just as much sex with Matthew does. Maybe even more.
âWell, we couldââ
âDid you mean what you said to me in the hotel room? That youâre not interested in just fucking me, but you want to hang out with me, too?â
âYes, of course.â He answered honestly, âWhatâs on your mind?â
âDo you.. want to go to the farmerâs market tomorrow?â
Matt doesnât particularly care for crowds. Nor does he care for places with intense smells. But, he does live in New York City. And he really does like you. And.. there was something about your voice that told him you just need company.
âSure. Iâll pick you up tomorrow after church. Letâs say, ten forty-five?â He wondered.
âSure.â Your voice shook as you agreed. âIâll text you my address, then.â
âPlease.â
A pause.
âButââ
âI have a driver.â
âYeah, that makes sense.â
âDo you need anything else?â
Something about his words had stirred an unfamiliar uneasiness in you. Anxiety bit at youâyou were almost completely alone on the train, and you still had a few stops left. But the idea of telling him that made you queasy, so you went with,
âYou didnât tell me you were a lawyer.â You said, and you listened for any signs of hesitation in his voice, but you hadnât heard any when he said,
âYeah, Iâm a defense lawyer, but I guess you know that by now.â You found yourself smiling just a little bit.
âCan you blame me? This whole thing is weird.â you said honestly, âBesides, I bet you know everything about me.â
This is true. But mostly because of things youâve said or done. He just knows.
âI know youâre very tired right now. I can hear it in your voice. Whatâs wrong?â He wondered, and you sighed softly, shaking your head.
âI just had a long day.â You confessed.
âIâm sorry, honey,â And the words wrap around you like a blanket.
âItâs okay. Iâm excited to spend your money tomorrow.â And Matt just laughed.
âAnd nothing else?â The question was a little flirty, and you let out a scoff at the idea that he would want you, even now, covered in fishy grime.
âIâm excited to shower. I reek.â You confessed, and Matt let out a hum, having picked up on the fact that whatever happened that day, you didnât want to talk to him about it.
âAre you teasing me?â
You shook your head,
âYouâre insatiable.â But you smiled.
âCan you blame a man for trying?â
You finally got off your train, making your way up to the street. You took a look around-- about two blocks from your shitty apartment.
âWhere do you live?â You wondered, and he answered easily,
âHellâs Kitchen.â He doesnât live far from you.
âIâm fucking starving.â
âYou should get something to eat.â He said softly, and your stomach started to growl. âWhat do you want?â
You thought about the taste of his lips.
âUh, Spicy Pad Thai. Thereâs a really good place a block from here thatâs to die for.â You sighed, and suddenly there was a beep from your phone. You pulled the phone from your ear and exhaled when you saw a Venmo notification.
âHow the hell did you get my Venmo?â Â You wondered, and Matt laughed into the phone.
âI just put your name in. Lucky guess.â He answered honestly, and your cheeks were red.
âThank you.â
âWell, I know you mustâve had a hard day because you didnât fight me at all.â And you knew he was right.
âWill you stay on the phone with me until I get home?â You finally asked.
âOf course, sweetheart.â Was always his answer.
Even now, three months later.
You spent about fifty dollars the next day, and Matt didnât even bother to pretend to let you pay. You fought him on it a couple of times, but he insisted. You brought fresh bread, fresh veggies, a jar of jam, a bagel stuffed with cream cheese, which you shared with him, and a bouquet of flowers.
And you did not sleep with him.
It was a sort of test. To see if he was being truthful when he told you how he would just hangout with you. And the way he paid attention, the way he didnât rush you along and let you lead, it had left you to the conclusion that maybe he did care about you beyond having sex with you. And he never once asked about whatever had happened the day before that made you so upset.
And for the past three months, youâd.. very slowly gotten used to having Matt in your life. After the farmerâs market, you went home and got ready for your upcoming week. On Tuesday, Matt asked you if you wanted to go to dinner after work. You had Italian food and got a pasta dish that you werenât sure was worth the money, and you watched as Matt tipped the waitress really well.
So you asked to see his apartment. Matt fucked you on his countertop.
Then, you and Matt were seeing each other every other day. You didnât always sleep together, but.. most of the time you did. The two of you were insatiable, deciding to jump on the opportunity whenever you could. But you did not get much better at spending his money. You were hesitant, and deeply guilty for spending any of it. Even though he was offering it to you.
And then, he went away for a week. A business trip across the country.
He even offered to let you come with him, but you had.. laughed in his face.
âI canât take a week off work.â
âYou could quit if you wanted and Iâd be okay with it.â
âYouâre ridiculous.â
âI mean it.â
âI know you do, and thatâs why youâre ridiculous.â
But to make up for not seeing you for a week, Matt had given you a neatly wrapped box and told you not to open it until he told you. And you really didnât think a week would be a big deal. You were only hanging out with him for three months, a week without him might even be nice. Youâd have alone time.
He left on Sunday, and by Wednesday, you had sent him this textâ
hi. iâm sure youâre probably busy, but could you give me a call at some point after you get back to your hotel tonight?
He responded within five minutes,
Of course I can. Is everything okay?
You didnât even know what to say to that.
yeah i just wanna catch up : )
So you waited. And waited. You got off work, made dinner, watched a movie, took a shower, and were just scrolling through your phone in bed, half asleep when he finally called. It was late in New York, a consequence of your time difference for the week.
âHello?â You answered softly, holding the phone to your ear. Sure, you couldâve put him on speaker, but something about the sound of his voice in your ear made you swoon.
âHi, sweetheart,â He answers back.
âHi.â You smile. âHowâs your trip?â
âBoring. Did I wake you?â
âNo, I was only half asleep.â You answer honestly, âI was waiting up for your call,â and then you pause, âThat makes me sound really desperate.â
Matt laughs, and thereâs a bit of exhaustion in his voice.
âI feel like by now you can admit that you like me.â
âNo, not really.â You smile, before sighing. âBut I really wish we could have sex right now.â It was true; You had been thinking about it all day.
âDo you have the box I gave you before I left?â He wonders, and you glance at it, sitting on your bedside table.
âIâm sure itâs around here somewhere.â
âGood, go get it and open it.â You reach over to grab the box, with your phone squished between your ear and your shoulder as you begin to open it. Youâre not sure what youâre expecting but then you realize exactly what heâs gotten you and your face goes red.
âA remote control vibrator?â You scoff but immediately begin to tear it open.
âI figured it might come in handy while Iâm gone.â He says softly, and you hold the silicone toy in your hand and realizeâ
âWait,â you start, âI canât find the remote,â you say, and then, you realize, âOh.â
âYeah, sweetheart.â The machine starts to vibrate lowly in your hand, being controlled by Matt from the other side of the country, âOh.â
A smile appears on your face, a grin that betrays you, because your first reaction is to blurt out,
âThis is stupid,â You laugh, but youâre a little turned on by the idea that Matt thought about that before he went on his trip. Youâre a little turned on by the idea that Matt thinks about you even when youâre not around.
âYouâre smiling.â
âYeah, and how do you know that, Mr. Murdock?â
âI can just hear it in your voice.â Itâs a talent heâs developed over the course of knowing you. The vibrator switches off in your hand, and you find yourself laying back down.
âOkay, not that I want to humor you or anything,â You start, âBut if you were here..â
âIâd start by kissing you silly.â Something warm washes over you.
âAnd then what?â
âAre you wet right now?â By the way you shiver when you rub your thighs together, you know your answer.
âYeah.â
âWell, then Iâd probably start by dragging that toy down your torso,â You rest it on your skin, and it hums to life, on the lowest setting, âReal slow, just to tease you.â
âYou would.â
âDo you know how you torture me?â He wonders aloud, âHow badly I want to get back to New York and fuck that pretty mouth of yours?â
Do you know how you torture me?
You actually moan at that, and the chuckle you hear across the phone eggs you on, the vibrator snaking itâs way down your skin,
âAnd then, Iâd rub it against your thighs,â His breath catches, and you smirk a bit as you let the vibrator massage your thighs, âNever touching where you need it the most,â
âAre you touching yourself to the thought of fucking me with this toy?â
âYouâre such a brat,â he says, and you know youâre right, âFuck, that makes meââ
âMakes you what?â Youâre hanging onto every word.
âIt makes me want to cum in my pants like a fucking teenager,â he practically growls, âI never shouldâve agreed to go on this stupid trip, or I shouldâve begged you to come with me.â
You decide to test your luck,
âYouâre pathetic,â and itâs meant to be dirty talk, but he just lets out another dark chuckle into the phone,
âDonât push your luck, kid.â
So, you donât.
And the vibrator ticks up another level of intensity, before he continues,
âIâd press that toy right to your clit,â You take it as the order it is and press your new toy against your clit, and youâre aching, bucking your hips a bit, âCâmon baby, let me hear you,â He requests, and you let out a soft groan of pleasure, no longer biting your lip.
You just listen to the sound of him palming himself against his pants, letting out soft whimpers as you edge closer toâ
And then the vibrator turns to max speed but you donât move it away, you just let out this gasping moan,
âMaâFuck, Oh my god,â You whimper,
âDonât you dare stop, honey, Iâll hang up,â and you know he will, âJust take everything I give you,â He purrs, and you let out this long whine, and it sounds almost pornographicâyouâd laugh at yourself if you didnât want to cum so damn bad.
Because with this intense setting, youâre closeâcloser than you have been since he fucked you in the back of his car Sunday morning. So, you follow his order, because deep down, you really do want to be good for him.
âMatt,â You whine softly, âIâm so close,â And as the words leave your mouth, the vibratorâ
Completely turns off.
Your heart starts to pound as your brain attempts to catch up to what happened.
âI know,â his voice cuts through your babbles and whines, âBut you have to beg, Câmon, sweetheart, beg me to let you finish,â You can hear the vague sounds of him jerking off, and youâre just a little too far gone to object, because you know if you can just get him to turn the toy back on for two minutes, you could get there.
âPlease, please,â You start, âI need it so bad, please, baby, let me come, make me come,â You request, still bucking your hips a bit with the toy placed on your clit. âIâm soâso fucking close!â
Matt lets out a soft moan, and you know that sound; that is the sound of Matt when finishes. It makes your lips tip up into a smile. So, you let out one soft,
âPlease?â
A beat.
And Matthewâs answer is the same as it is every time you ask him for something.
âOf course, sweetheart,â and the vibrator hums back to life. You moan softly into the phone, and the vibrator is knocked up a notch. You whimper again, and you can feel yourself getting closer.
Matt just takes a moment to listen. And he wishes he was there. He closes his eyes as he thinks about what it wouldbe like to be there, in your bed, wondering--what did you sound like without the filter of a phone? What do you smell like? God, what did you taste like? What does your heartbeat sound like right now?
You finish without any more permission, but Matt can hear it in the way you sound, the way you get louder and then quieter, catching your breath. After a moment, he asks,
âAre you still with me, honey?â
âYeah,â you says softly. Your skin is flush, and you feel better than you have in days. You tell Matt, âI uh.. Iâm gonna go clean up,â You said gently, and you put him on mute for just a minute to go and clean upâyou presume he does the same. You tuck the vibrator away into your bedside table (a habit of yours.) before unmuting him and slipping under your covers. âMatt? You still there?â
âYeah, Iâm here,â His voice is softer now. âIâll probably go shower but I wanted to talk to you for a few more minutes. How are you feeling?â He asks.
âSatisfied.â You promised with a smile. âThanks for calling me.â
âItâs always a pleasure to hear from you. I needed to hear your voice.â He confesses, and it makes your heart skip a bit. Your eyes are heavy.
âI didnât want you to go on this trip either,â you confess quietly, your defenses lowered now. âI wish you were here.â You say honestly.
âI wish I was too..â He said softly, âBut I owed you a new vibrator anyways.â He hums.
âYou didnât owe me anything.â You respond, but Matt scoffs.
âI like buying you things. I like when you spend my money because I know it means youâre not carrying as much stress on your shoulders. I wish youâd let me buy you more, but Iâm sure youâd just fight me on it.â
A beat. Because you know heâs right.
âSorry..â You start, the whole story on the tip of your tongueâthe story of why youâre so unwilling to ask for help, why you want to do it all on your own, why you refuse his helpâbut youâre tired. And Matt knows it.
âYou should get some sleep.â His voice is tired too.
âSo should you.â But your eyes are getting heavy. âMatt?â
âHm?â
âI think youâre my best friend.â You say, a rare moment of vulnerability dripping from you. Maybe youâre still riding the high of him making you cum from the other side of the country, maybe youâre just tired, but the words slip out before you can really stop yourself, âI miss you.â
And before Matt can even respond, he hears you lightly snoring on the other end of the line.
He thinks about the promise he made you, that he wouldnât fall in love with you.
His heart aches in his chest, and he whispers a soft, âsweet dreams, sweetheart,â before he hangs up the phone.
When you go to work the next morningâmore tired than you care to admit to any of your coworkersâyour boss orders you around all morning, and then, around noon, a gentleman walks in carrying a large vase of flowers. Theyâre brightâmade of sunflowers and babyâs breath and peonies and carnations.
You blink as you accept the large bouquet, sitting it on your desk. All the nosey ladies you work with flock over, admiring your gift with barely concealed jealousy.
âWho are these from?â One asks. You take the card that was attached to the bouquet, and read the message on itâ
I miss you too.
Your face flushes more as you slip the note in your pocket and stumble out the best response you can findâ
Alright yall here it is! This is based off of this idea. So many of you wanted me to expand so I made a short fic of it. This is just under 2k words. Happy Sinful Sunday, my loves!
Warnings: Unprotected P in V, neck grabbing, rough sex, Matt's a little mean.
The grip Matthew Murdock had on his control was rock solid. It had to be when he believed he had the devil in him. He kept that side of him locked away in chains, only to be released on the unsuspecting scum of Hell's Kitchen.Â
And lately, you.
You were an anomaly to Matt. You had come into his life and accepted him completely, devil and all. You offered up your heart, soul, and body in return and Matt had never been happier. His life was finally looking up.Â
But that didn't mean he didn't still have bad days.
It had been a week from hell for Matt and it seemed like you weren't making things any easier. You seemed to tease him at every turn, knowing Matt was too busy to indulge in the sweet release you dangled in front of him.Â
Saturday night he finally had enough. He was getting ready for his nightly patrol, everything but his mask on when you walked out of the bedroom in nothing but one of his button down shirts. And if that wasn't enough, you took one look at him and crossed your arms, popping your hip out.Â
"Matt, are you seriously going out tonight?"Â
That ironclad control of his⌠snapped.
Prowling forward, he backed you up until your back hit the wall, his hand wrapping around your throat. He pressed his fingers under the hinge of your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. He took a deep, low breath and rumbled quietly at the scent of you. No trace of fear, just arousal. He skimmed his nose up the side of your cheek before speaking into your ear.
"You are walking a very fine line, sweetheart. Be careful you don't overstep." He heard the uptick in your heartbeat and smirked. "Choose your next words very carefully."
"I'm just worried about you, Matt. You've had a long week and you promised me you'd take a break today and you haven't."
Matt instantly felt a little bad about snapping at you but your body language told him you honestly didn't mind. Then he remembered the ways you've been teasing him all week.
"A long week, huh? And you wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?"
You had the decency to look sheepish at his comment.
"I can't help it if you're just irresistible when you're riled up. Besides, I kept hoping you'd take the bait and take a break from everything. I've missed you this week." You admitted quietly.Â
"Oh, now you're being demure. You weren't so sweet when you were helping to rile me up."Â
"Matt, pleaseâŚ"
"Please what, sweetheart? Use your words." He cooed condescendingly. You narrowed your eyes at his tone.
"And if I don't?"
"Then I will tie you to the bed, put a vibrator in your pussy, and leave you there all night." He threatened making your heart lurch. You knew he meant every word and so you swallowed your pride and asked him for what you wanted.
"Please fuck me, Matt. I need it, I need you. I've missed you so much this week-" Matt's mouth descended onto yours, effectively shutting you up. He kissed you hard, all teeth and tongue. One hand stayed around your throat while the other grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. Then, he pressed his entire body into yours, making you moan into his mouth.
"Keep your hands here." Matt commanded before letting go of your wrists in favor of trailing his hand down your body. You did as he said, keeping your hands above your head. Slowly, Matt kissed his way down your jaw and neck before dropping to his knees in front of you. He pushed up the shirt you were wearing to nuzzle at your stomach and nipped at your hip bone when he realized you weren't wearing any underwear.
"Had plans, did you?" He asked. You bit your lip.
"Let's just say I was determined to get you to take a break." You admitted breathlessly. Matt hummed and kissed right above your clit, causing your breath to hitch.
"Mission accomplished, I suppose." He murmured. Before you could say anything else, Matt was pulling a leg over his shoulder and diving into your cunt. You moaned loudly as he licked a stripe up your cunt and it took everything in you to keep your hands in place.Â
"Good girl. Keep those hands up." Matt broke away long enough to say before diving back in. He worked you over quickly but before you could cum, he pulled away. You whined, your body lurching at the sudden loss of stimulation.Â
"Don't whine. I still remember the way you've teased me all week. The only way you're cumming tonight is on my cock and when I say so. Understand?" Matt tsked.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good girl. Now go lay down on the bed and spread those legs for me. Keep the shirt on." You raised an eyebrow but did as he said. It took a minute before he followed you but when he entered the room, he was naked. His movements were still very much a prowl and as he made his way to the end of the bed, he towered over you. Slowly, he crawled over you, settling in between your legs.
He leaned down and kissed you languidly, like he had all the time in the world. You could feel his dick caught between the two of you, its length hard and leaking. He ground himself against you as he kissed you, and you whimpered into his mouth. You were unsure if you were allowed to touch him so you kept your hands to yourself, gripping the sheets in your fists.
"You can touch me, sweetheart." You sighed in relief and you brought your hands up, burying them into his hair. Matt shifted his hips and then he was grinding his dick against your pussy. You both moaned at the feeling and Matt quickly lined himself up and sunk in. You cried out at the sudden intrusion and Matt cursed at the way your walls seemed to clamp down on him.Â
"You okay, sweetheart? You feel so damn good." Matt panted. You whimpered and nodded.
"Please, fuck. Need you to move, baby." Matt groaned and obliged, moving his hips in a rough rhythm. He fucked you hard, one hand on your hip and the other holding himself up. With every snap of his hips, you seemed to move up the bed until you were practically crushed against the headboard. Matt kissed you through it, his lips scorching their way across your lips, jaw, and throat.Â
It didn't take long for you to approach your high, your previous ruined orgasm making it easy for Matt to wind you up again.Â
"Beg me for it, sweetheart. Beg me to make you cum." Matt slowed to a grind, giving you just enough to drive you higher but not enough to get you there. You couldn't help but to whine.
"Matt, please, please. I've been good for you, I've done as you asked. Please let me cum. Please." Matt smirked, the look almost feral, and slid his hand from your hip to thumb at your clit as he picked back up the pace.Â
"Come on, sweetheart, cum for me. Let me feel it." You cried out as you came, body locking up around Matt. He worked you through it, gritting his teeth to stave off his own orgasm.Â
"That's it, sweetheart, that's it. Doing so good for me." When you finally came down from your high, Matt pulled out of you and flipped you over. You yelped at the sudden change and Matt chuckled.
"Hope you didn't think I was done with you." Matt growled as he positioned you on your hands and knees. He smoothed a hand up your spine before burying his hand in your hair and pulling, forcing you to arch your back.
"Good girlâŚ" Matt murmured before sinking back into your heat. He set another brutal pace, fucking you hard and fast. You took it willingly, moaning and writhing beneath him.Â
"Matt- God- fucking me so good. Missed you, missed this." You babble, mind gone due to the way Matt was fucking every thought out of you. Above you, Matt smirked and angled his hips so he hit your G spot with every thrust, effectively rendering you beyond words. You could do nothing but moan and whimper beneath him. Matt moaned above you, the feeling of you clenching around him almost too much.
"That's my good girl. Taking everything I give you. You're gonna make cum, baby. Are you gonna take it? Gonna let me fill you up?"Â
"Yes, Matt, yes! Fuck, please! Let me feel it." Never one to take without giving, Matt slipped one hand beneath you and began thumbing at your clit again. You screamed as it shoved you suddenly over the edge. Matt groaned and came as well, buried deep within you. He slid out of you, hissing at the oversensitivity, and laid down beside you. You both just lay there panting. You felt Matt shift and then his hand was grasping one of yours.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" You asked, completely bewildered.
"For being so busy this week. I really have been neglecting you and that's-"
"Matt, be quiet. You have nothing to apologize for. You haven't been neglecting me. You're busy. I get that. There's gonna be times like this no matter what you do and I'm not going to leave you just because you have a lot going on." You told him, squeezing his hand and rolling to face him. Matt's eyes were wide and darting around, like he couldn't quite believe you really weren't going to leave him. So you tugged on his hand and pulled him in so he was laying with his head on your chest.
"You're not getting rid of me that easily, Murdock. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."
At that, Matt couldn't help but chuckle. He positioned himself so his ear was right above your heart, listening to it pound away, proof you were alive and with him.
"I think I'd like that." He would have to get up eventually, would have to go out. But for now, cradled in your embrace, he hurt a little less and that was all that mattered to him.
âyeah? you like being treated as a doll, don't you?â with matt murdock please :)
Oooo here we go! Sorry itâs a little on the short side!
Warnings: Smut, just absolute filth, Mattâs a little mean? maybe, dirrrrrty talk from Matt. Uhhh yeah. Just filth. Read at your discretion đ
Weekend of Sin
You and Matt were both in a mood. Sometimes what both of you really wanted synced up so perfectly that the sex winded up being mind-blowing. Tonight was one of those times. Matt had come home from patrolling with his blood up and had wanted nothing more than to dominate you and all you wanted was for him to take what he wanted, to use you the way he wanted.
Which is how you found yourself bent over the couch arm, completely naked. Matt was rutting into you from behind, still dressed in his black outfit. He belt buckle dug into your ass with every thrust and you knew it would leave a mark but you couldnât find it in you to care. Matt grabbed at your hair and pulled, forcing you to arch your back and allowing him to reach even deeper in you. You moaned and you heard Matt chuckle.
âYeah? You like being treated as a doll, donât you? Like being my little fucktoy to do as I please with?â
âYes, Matt, fuck- Love being yours.â You whimper, Mattâs thrusts reaching a mind-numbing place inside you. Your orgasm was close and Matt knew it. His free hand slipped around you and began rubbing tight circles around your clit.
âThen come on, cum for me, kitten. Soak my cock.â He growled in your ear. âI wanna feel this pussy drench me.â
You screamed as you came, Mattâs name echoing around the apartment and likely pissing off your neighbors. Yet there was no room in you to care, every bit of space taken up by the orgasm that ripped through you.Â
âThatâs it... thaaatâs it...â Matt murmured in your ear, his pace never faltering. Even as you sobbed at the overstimulation, he kept going. Kept fucking into you. He chuckled again, biting at your neck.
hey so did you ever finish that teacher!jake peralta wip..? bc i js read it and im aching for a part 2
broooo i need to lock in so bad ..i kinda lever thought anyone would read it so itâs kinda up in the air. it will be done in like two months im hoping. I WILL LOCK IN !!!
wow hi ..long time no see guys :) itâs been a few years since iâve published anything but i wanted to say thank you for 1000 whole followers wtfff thatâs so many. ANYWAYS ! if thereâs anything youâd like to write about feel free to let me know.
and for those of u who gave me requests im working on them now:3 life is so crazy thanks for being patient !
