ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletsloveletter/works she/her, 22 || rookie fanfic writer for mr. matthew michael murdock <3 || side blog: @ps-lovingyou
Summary: It’s been about three months since your breakup with Matt. Another night out at one of your favorite clubs with one of your favorite people should help ease the pain like it’s been doing.
It would’ve— if the reason for all that pain didn't randomly show up looking as good as ever in the crowded room.
And with another girl on his arm, no less...
Pairings: Matt x Reader, Matt x Fem!Reader, Matt x Accountant!Reader, Foggy x Marci
Tags: No use of y/n, Songfic (kinda sorta not really, it’s really just the title and some lines), Second Chance fic, Post-breakup fic, Angst, but also Fluff, Mentions of Alcohol
Word Count: 10k+
A/N: My first fanfic ever EEEK! Feedback’s appreciated but please be kind :,) This fic revolves around the feelings when you just see that person across the room and time stands still and you can’t fathom why…
Anyway, hope you enjoy! (I would post it all on here but please it’s a long-ass one-shot I’m sorry)
(edit: pls lmk if you’d also like david kristen fanfic 😭)
i just finished watching Evil and immediately went to AO3 and here to scavenge for David x Kristen fanfic and i…
am not seeing as much as i expected?
i NEED to see these lovely characters more in little stories PLEASE lmk if you’d be interested in reading more about them and i WILL get to writing 🫡 even if there's just one other person who'd be interested 🫶🧍🏻♀️
(i can’t guarantee i’ll do these incredibly complex characters justice but i WILL try my best 😭)
the thing about matt murdock is that he doesn’t even have superpowers that are all that useful for crime fighting. he’s a human lie detector and could probably sniff out a murderer based on one droplet of sweat left at the scene but does he have super healing? super strength? super speed? all no. babe could have been sherlock holmes on steroids & instead he’s going out with three broken ribs and a concussion to fight the irish mob, the yakuza, the hand clan, the russian mafia, wilson fisk, and every minor criminal that crosses his path with his fists and a billy club
if i had a nickel for every time charlie cox’s character was dangerously involved with an ex who’s a murderous brunette woman with a european accent, i’d have two nickels which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice
Hi! Would love to read what you come up with for Matt Murdock x breeding kink and/or encouraging the reader to be more vocal (separate pieces or in the same one, whatever strikes your fancy)
thank you for this ask- I will not stop thinking abt it now!
Breeding kink w Matt Murdock
warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI! big ol honkin breeding kink (pls use protection), mention of pregnancy and contraception, humiliation/degradation kink
Matt Murdock, the sweet Catholic martyr who surrenders himself for his city, holds the same selflessness when it comes to you.
Whether it’s the self assigned role of always being the one to open your door, a fresh cup of coffee waiting next to your bedside table while you snooze your alarm for the fifth time, or taking the side closest to the street while on your walks (even though you are technically supposed to be leading him), he prides himself on his servitude.
Except for when he can’t, and all that he knows is to take, have, own.
When sucking and nipping at your neck, staining your skin with purple and red splotches become redundant, because yes, everyone will see that you have been marked, but it isn’t enough— he needs more.
And he’ll whine at first, albeit muffled, because he’s so insistent on hearing how well he’s serving you, “come on, angel. I know your body better than you do. I know it feels good… tell me how good it feels, sweetheart…”, but you oblige with careful consideration. and fuck, when you do…….. when you do, you almost hate yourself for not doing it sooner.
He’ll transform in front of your eyes; his selflessness unraveling like a single strand of snagged satin, unbinding and simultaneously weaving into a selfishly hungry man connected to you by punctuated thrusts and fumbling lips against your own.
It will sound like a prayer at first, and you will question if what he’s saying is even intentional or just a consequence of your dripping cunt pulling him back to you, again and again and again.
“Need to fill your pretty pussy, angel.”
He’ll know you heard him, understood what he was confessing by the way your breath hitches in your throat and you’ll involuntarily moan— unabashedly sighing his name as if to give him permission. Matt.
There will be no hesitation. Even though you have no form of contraception or really care for that matter, there was a nagging, persistent need to fill your womb and to be filled— to claim you and to be claimed.
You would have denied yourself the pleasures of the flesh had you told him no and shied away from his most carnal instincts, which is maybe why it was so easy to tell him yes, even if you blushed while doing so. “Take me, Matthew. Cum in my pussy, please…”
And even in his selfishness, he will praise you for your humility and offering, “such a good girl using your words for me,” and gift you with his own oblation, “gonna fill that pretty pussy… would you like that?”
He’ll ask out of spite, knowing the mere thought of him filling and spilling out of you is enough to tip you over the edge, just to feel you clench around his heavy cock. “Would you like being a greedy little slut for me, huh? Just taking my cum like a whore? Right, angel?”
It’s amusing how close you get to experiencing a man-made heaven just by his humiliation. That’s something to unpack later, though; you’d be too preoccupied by the idea of a much more exhibitory display of your submission— a round, full belly to act as a banner that reads: claimed by Matthew Murdock!
And that’s what would send him across the tipping point. “You want me to fuck a baby in you, hm? Get you pregnant so everyone knows how good your greedy pussy takes my cum?” You can’t even say no to that— he would know you’re lying.
So you don’t. Instead you say yes, yes, yes! and you allow your orgasm to baptize you, washing over the entirety of your body to bait his own release. He follows suit, of course, faltering to ensure that he doesn’t waste a single drop. “Fuck, angel! That’s it… God— you’re so tight— taking me so well!”
It would feel hypnotic, and you would only be pulled from your trance by the slight sting of him detaching from your core. You also feel heavy— so, so heavy. Weighed down by the mixture that leaks from between your legs, stuffed when he swipes the rogue trail and pushes it back into your warm cunt. Can’t miss a drop.
It will probably be scary at first when the haze settles and your brain reassembles, leaving you with a sticky residue and dampened hairlines, face to face with the consequences of your neediness. He’ll detect it, though, tuning into your quickening heartbeat and easing your anxieties with an offer to make a stop to the nearest CVS and gentle kiss to your temple.
Matt being able to smell your arousal after you have a sexy dream.
Okay byeeeeeeee.
*runs and hides*
I’ve thought of this more often than I care to admit.
He’s awake before you are, taking note of how you’re still stuck in slumber, slightly clung to him with a hand on his bare chest. At first Matt focuses on your steady heartbeat until the rest of his senses adjust to the morning air. His lips part which unmistakably says that he smells something, and it’s your essence. As clear as day.
Of course he smirks to himself and places a hand on your leg, dragging it back and forth on your skin, almost as a way to commend you for the way you get him going even when you’re not awake. Your body could speak to him before words could.
You begin to stir inevitably, breathing a sigh and tracing your fingers on the skin beneath your hand, you realize he’s awake and you put two and two together. The smirk from before is still lingering on Matt’s flush lips, and you want to cower in embarrassment almost.
The hand on your leg comes up to your face, motioning your jaw upward meet you in a kiss. It a couple pecks here and there. “Care to tell me what you were dreaming about?” Matt whispers, and you bury your face back into the crook of his neck. Somehow Matt bringing it to the forefront doubled the heat between your legs. Not to mention the croak of his morning voice being irresistible. The shy silence is deafening at first until he pokes the bubble.
"There's no denying a distinct sensuality to these depictions of the saint which often show his youthful body sparingly covered, hips shifting with contrapposto, narrowly waisted, and his gaze cast toward heaven, with an expression caught between torment and transcendence."
- A description of Matt Murdock St. Sebastian, the saint with the sluttiest aesthetic in all of Catholic canon ✨
“My ass remains unwhooped” is something Matt Murdock would say. Anyone complaining has probably blocked it out of their memory that Matt in the Netflix shows also had jokes (“I don’t speak asshole”). Or isn’t aware of how Matt is characterized in the comics.
I completely and totally agree. Not only is it TOTALLY in character for his comic counterpart, but TV Show Matt (especially when in a good mood) was FULL of quips. This is meant to be Matt in a good place in his life, witty and feeling more free so it MAKES SENSE that he is like this. After all, he has done this for three seasons straight.
Also, consider how Matt knows that She-Hulk is a good guy - he knows that she works for the law, and is generally on the side of good. So, of course, he isn’t going to be all broody and serious, he’s playing around because there’s no real danger or terrible consequences. Anyways that’s my two cents because i needed to rant.
Pairing: professor!Matt Murdock x college!reader (afab)
Summary: You’ve developed a close friendship with Professor Murdock over the years, hiding your true feelings militantly. A few months prior to graduation, you come to him in distress and finally find out how he feels about you.
Includes: fluff, smut, teacher/student relationship, no gendered language, no y/n, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, nondescript hormonal birth control, professor murdock
Words: ~3.5k
A/N: Thank you so so much to the lovely folks who offered to beta and proof my first fic, including @thegreengoop and @scarletsloveletter!! And please feel free to hit me up with comments or feedback, even prompts! Likes and reblogs also let me know you like my work :) Enjoy!
Disclaimer: MINORS DNI. I do not condone the theft of content I create and share.
Warmth, strength, a certain crispness of his pressed shirt or his fading cologne—you're not sure which—and tenderness. That is all you can feel, all you can take in from the world as he holds you in a gentle hug.
This hug, this warmth, with your arms under his, his left arm wrapped around your back and other hand squeezing your neck, this has come after years of wondering if he knew how you felt about him, if he felt the same way. You've also spent these years wondering if your feelings are real or if they're childish—some immaturity, some need for attention and validation you never grew out of. But looking into his brightening face and lifted posture every time you meet, seeing the wildness in him and yourself throughout all of your excited discussions, you know it's real. Whether or not he thinks about you in bed at night the way you do him, it's real. It's friendship, at least. Companionship probably not unlike what he's had with other students before. Or so you thought.
You've known Professor Murdock for a little over two years, taking his classes every other semester or so, visiting his office hours to chat when you aren't his student. The two of you have developed an easy relationship; you respect each other, delight in each other, never get too close but enjoy a comfortable distance—or rather an appropriate closeness—you found after a while. He knows your work and you know his instruction. Each of you knows the other's passions well, each of you knows the other's fears and holds them softly in your heart.
Matt's a young professor and a great one at that. Other than his obvious, somehow humble charm, the way he instantly connects with his students enchanted you from the day you met. He has the sharpness you and your peers strive for and hope is only a few years away, and he encourages you all, giving you the support and inspiration you need to get there. Though, he likes to tell you that you're sharp, that you're years ahead of him. Any compliment hinting at an equality between the two of you births a thousand butterflies in your stomach, and elsewhere. When you explain your latest research project or what you think of the last novel you read and he looks utterly captivated, you can't help but want him to get up, close the door, and lock it before returning to you in a passionate fever. Just the idea of the sound of the lock clicking, the shift in the air it represents, makes you swoon inside, drool like Pavlov's dog. Tick.
You went to him in need today, catching him after his smallest class as the room would be next in coziness and remoteness after his office. No office hours today. Today, the day you received a response from your dream grad school. Your application was denied. You applied to others, of course, but you can't help the tears begging to spring forward with defeat. You feel as though you've failed. How could you really be as sharp as he says you are? As sharp as he repeatedly praised you for being throughout the application process? You shared it all with him. And now it's ruined.
You walk through the door as the last few students part. He's gathering his things and readying to leave. He doesn't notice you right away, your steps gentle and voice paralyzed. When he turns to the door you break the silence.
"Professor Murdock…" you struggle to sigh, choked up. He recognizes your voice instantly, his frame rupturing in a small jolt and face taking a delighted, curious expression. This fades a little once he realizes the pain he heard in your speech.
"Hey, are you alright?" He sets his briefcase down and removes his glasses—he knows it's just the two of you now—before moving toward you with urgency.
"Yeah, n-no…I didn't get in. I was rejected. The others, I don't know, I'll probably get into one, but—"
He presses a hand to your shoulder, holding for a moment before moving for the door. He gently guides you away from the frame as he reaches to close it. You hear a tick, the lock. Nerves, arousal, fear, sadness, lust all rip through you and mix together. You're shaking and melting at the same time.
"It's alright, it's okay," he offers as he turns back to you, "I'm so sorry."
He hears your quiet sniffle and realizes tears must be coming down. He can sense that you're completely frozen. He steps even closer and wraps himself around you. A hug to thaw. You feel a hand on your neck, comforting, an arm around you, strong, his chest on yours and your face to his collar. You breathe him in and begin to release into it.
Fuck.
Years without this. Years without touch. Years without a hand to the arm or a playful shoulder nudge. You even skipped handshakes, too cordial. You would never have brought yourself to make contact. You didn't want to cross a boundary, you wanted to show respect, thought it should be on his terms. Or maybe you were just worried initiating a single touch would let him onto you, would make him wonder how you felt, pity you for your schoolyard crush and become cold. Now you're questioning whether that was the right choice. Fuck it all if this is how intoxicating his body feels.
With a final squeeze, he lets you go. He doesn't shift back or away from you, instead brings a hand to your chest. What is he doing? The flat of his hand is large, larger than yours. Looking down you see just how much of your chest it covers.
"Your heart is beating so fast," he almost whispers, bringing your attention to his voice, "your breathing is quick."
You bring your gaze up, it's been too long since you looked into his face. The confrontation makes you release and look down again.
"Am I making you nervous?" He gently suggests.
You nod, releasing a small "yes."
"What can I do?" You feel his body tense a little, likely in fear of making the wrong move. He begins to move away, but you bring your hand to his wrist, keeping his hand pressed to your heart.
The two of you spend a moment like this, close but far apart, both unsure. As the seconds pass you bring your attention back to your hand on his wrist and start to rub his skin with your thumb, holding him just a bit tighter. He shifts forward again, an inch closer to you, and you look up to examine his face. Another moment.
"Do you want me," he pauses before finishing and lowers his voice, "to touch you?"
You nod and lean into him a bit, earlier tears making it hard to speak again. He smiles softly at the silence.
"You have to say it, yes or no. I need to hear you tell me."
You swallow, trying to break through your nervousness and arousal, out of your body, to talk.
"I want you to touch me," you produce with some mustered up confidence. It's one of the only things you're truly certain of right now.
With your approval he moves both hands to grip your waist. The pressure draws a sigh from you, encouraging him to rub your sides with his thumbs. You're completely submerged in his presence. The small movements send electric waves to your core. The feeling is so intense, he might be all you'll ever need.
Then you realize what's really happening. You place your hands on his chest to balance the contact between you. He's touching you. He wants to touch you. He locked the door. There is something in this. There is something in him.
"You…do you like this?" you ask, needing now to hear it from him. He furrows his eyebrows just slightly, stressing your nerves again. What if he doesn't?
"Yes," he starts with a timidity you're not used to hearing in his voice, "I do. I want to…I've wanted to. It's not- I couldn't…touch you."
You can't help but smile. There's total peace, total clarity. He's nervous too. He wants you. He wants to touch you. Not only that, he has wanted to touch you all the while you wanted to touch him. Neither of you could do it, could break the boundary, cross the line, show yourselves. The intimacy is more intense in the conversation between you than in the physical connection. The potential energy in the room has reached its height now that you know he feels the same way about you. You know the drop is about to come. You're prepared now. You're confident.
"I've wanted you since we met." You admit softly.
He recites with sincerity, "I've wanted you since we met. It's only grown."
You step an inch toward him, closing what miniscule gap there was. The two of you join in a kiss, linking perfectly. A soft, warm, inspired kiss, mouths like puzzle pieces, instantly wanting more. He wraps an arm around your lower back to lift your waist to his before bringing a hand up to rest on your jaw. You're deepening the kiss together into a slow, sloppy mess, well-choreographed and intoxicating. It's all either of you need for a few minutes, quickening the pace and moving together, pushing and pulling, feeling each other, flowing with intuition.
You break from each other and he guides the two of you behind his desk. Resisting the magnetic force drawing you together, he slides the desk chair out and motions for you to sit. He kneels with a shining smile, using the arm of the chair to guide himself before you.
"Do you know what you want?" He asks, wanting to establish a serious level of understanding.
"I…don't know. I like what we have. I liked that," you grab his hand for more touch, "I like this. I want to be…us. It feels natural," the truth charms you as you speak it.
"It does. It feels natural. I love being with you, talking to you. The closer we got, the closer I wanted to be. I couldn't let myself reach out. I was afraid of doing something you didn't want, even if it seemed like you did want it."
Seeing him be so vulnerable, it's huge. You've always felt quicker to show that side of yourself. It's harder to draw out from him. He's the professional, after all. You want to show him he's safe, reassure him.
"I understand. I felt the same way. It's not something we could really talk about or…try. I couldn't touch your arm or reach for your hand like I would with any coffee date that's going well," that earned a chuckle from him, and subsequently you, before continuing, "I'm graduating in a few months. What if we saw each other off campus? I'm not taking any more of your classes this year."
"Yeah. I'd love that," he answers with a bittersweet smile, "but what do we do, now?"
His expression is disappointed despite the excitement, almost pained. It's hell to see a face that sad on him. You want to make it better for both of you, you know he'll only respond to your initiative. Maybe you should wait, give it a few days at least, but you can't. Not with him kneeling before you. You've been aching this whole time, trying to suppress the bubbling desire, but you can't. It doesn't have to be perfect, but you want to feel him. You just want to do it, save the slow and sensual for other times, create something out of the passion between you right now.
You slide the chair back out from under you and meet him on the floor. Wrapping a hand around his neck, you decide to pop the bubble.
"I want you, now."
With that you crash into each other, fiending for friction in a new kiss, pressing lips and bodies close together, both on your knees like sinners. You push against him but he wins out, pinning you to the floor. He begins to slide kisses along your jaw, down your neck, retiring at your collarbones. It almost tickles, his soft lips to such thin skin. As a hand of his feverishly traces your body, gripping around your side and rubbing down to your pelvis, you bring one of yours to the nape of his neck with the other around his body to hold him close. His thumb rubs the crease of your hip, the line that leads to your core, causing you to tug on his smooth brown locks.
"Matt…" you call softly.
"Mm?" he questions, lips still connected to your body.
"Come up here," you command, nearly breathless.
He complies, bringing his head up to meet your face. You lift yourself to connect and bring him down with you in another kiss, letting a hand search his trousers.
"Christ," he moans as you graze the strained fabric. His voice in such ecstasy is like music. No, something more than music. It's a heavenly sound that wraps you up in the same pleasure it expresses. You need to hear more.
"Need you, please," you whine, adding pressure to his crotch with your hand.
"Okay, fuck," he responds with a low, almost cracking voice.
The two of you begin to rise, him standing easily as you prop yourself up on your hands. "Matt," you call, prompting him to lean down, wrap an arm around your back, and lift you with surprising strength. You had noticed his build before, the toned shape of his arms through his shirts, but you had no idea he had such power. Realizing what that means for the moments to come has your legs fluttery and core aching.
"On the desk," you tell him.
His face lights with a ravenous grin. You sense an animalistic hunger in his voice despite the questioning tone when he asks if you're sure.
"Please," you add, and he reaches a hand out to find the desk before lifting you up onto it, again with a surprising, arousing ease. The second your ass reaches the wood you push off your bottoms and he helps pull them down and release them from you. Going in for another kiss he allows his hands to rub your thighs, inching closer and closer to your dripping center.
You bring him into a deep kiss, pulling on his lip as you part. You want him to know how starved you are for him, all of him. He begins to circle your folds, lavishly spreading your juices. As he circles your clit, you plead, out of breath. He gets the message and plunges in, working you with a rhythmic pace that draws blissful gasps unlike any you've made before. He uses his fingers masterfully, applying pressure where you need it and letting you bask in the pleasure for what feels like hours.
"Let me hear you," he moans into your ear, "tell me how it feels…being fucked by my fingers."
"Shit, Matt, so good…it feels so good," you answer him, reaching a pornographic tone.
It goes on, bringing you close but not there. You know what you need. You try to return your attention to the man in front of you through half-lidded eyes: you want him to feel the pleasure you do. You want to feel him fill you up.
"Need…" you gasp in reaction to his thrusting fingers and bring a hand to fumble with his belt, "more, please."
He grunts against your hand, losing reservation. You can tell he's about to snap, and you want nothing more than to see that side of him. To be on the receiving end of his crushing lust, to be desired and taken.
He digs his head into your shoulder as he urgently reaches for his belt, swatting your hands away. His belt is undone, his zip down, everything off in mere seconds. You can't do anything but sit there and watch as he moves frantically, clearly falling apart. You're drooling at the sight, your stomach turning with lust, your cunt throbbing uselessly against the cool surrounding air.
Taking his cock in his fist before you, he brings the fingers once inside you to your lips. He presses them into your willing mouth as he begins to pump himself. You swirl your tongue, taking in your own sweetness, and look down to see his tip already leaking precum. He removes his fingers, you brace against him, and he lifts and spreads your thighs. You whisper a sultry "fuck me, Matty" into his ear, and he finally snaps, pushing into you ruthlessly with a groan. You feel split in half, feeling his full length against your walls, filling every inch of you.
The thrusts are hard, fast, needy, sloppy. He's rutting into you and you're taking it perfectly. You can hear everything, so much you don't know what's what, whose moans are whose. The sounds engulf you, and you can only imagine what it's like for him. He's panting, grunting, breathing against your neck and jaw, attempting every so often to aim a kiss to your lips despite the crude pace of your bodies.
You lose a string of expletives in the ecstasy, responding to each thrust, "fuck, Matt, god…Matt."
He gives you praise between his grunts, moaning by your ear, "shit…you feel so good…you're so good…taking me…made for me…"
His movements lose even more rhythm, panting becoming strained as your own whines heighten. He's close. You reach for your wet, aching clit. Swirling effortlessly, you make hurried circles. The dual pleasure is beyond: you would see stars if the moaning man before you weren't a prettier sight.
"Fuck!" He shocks you with the exclamation, slowing his movements in frustration. Breathless, he struggles to blurt out "b-birth control?"
"Yes, Matty, please, keep going," you urge him to continue, assuaging his fear.
With that he slams into you hard, making you cry out against each thrust.
"I'm…" he fruitlessly tries to let the declaration escape.
"Me too, me too," you cry over him, digging your heels into his hips and working your clit fast.
Your orgasm hits. Warmth spreads from your core to your toes, ecstasy bursting through your body with such force you might break. In the delicious throes of your orgasm you feel Matt spill inside you, thrusting loosely through his own release. Hearing muted, you don't know what sounds either of you let loose at the height of pleasure, but you're sure you were practically screaming.
The two of you come down, panting and leaning against each other. Your heels keep him inside you, not ready to lose contact. Your exhales deepen and calm. Tucking in his chin, he presses a kiss to your neck before meeting your lips.
"Professor Mur-" you catch yourself, issuing the correction with some embarrassment, "Matt." You just want to feel his name in your mouth once more.
He smiles, but it quickly bursts into a grin, earning a satisfied giggle from you.
"That was…" he cracks through an uncontrollable smile.
"Amazing," you finish for him, adding, "thank you." You release him and hop down as he shifts back. He brings his hands to your waist once more, and you clutch his arms to rest in the warmth of his skin.
"Call me Matty again, please," he surprises you with the request, squeezing your waist.
"Thank you, Matty," you coo through a smile.
He nods softly. After a pause, he says, "you're going to be okay. You're going to be just fine. You'll be amazing at any program. It's you who makes it good, not the school."
You tear up quick at the consolation, overcome with adoration for the man before you. You slide your hand down his arm, pulling his fingers to your wet cheek and allowing him to swipe a streak with his thumb.
"Thank you, for everything, Matt."
"You're welcome. Thank you."
You give his hand a squeeze and release it so the two of you can re-dress yourselves.
"Would you like a ride home? I’ll call us a cab," he offers, grabbing his briefcase and replacing his glasses.
"That would be wonderful," you answer, buttoning your pants.
Matt moves forward and you approach him, stopping him with a hand to his chest. He leans down and meets your lips with his, connecting deeply like you both need it more than air. You part slowly and bring your lips to his ear.
"You're still dripping into my panties, Professor Murdock," you whisper, grasping onto the fleeting sense of lust.
Matt brings a free hand to grab your ass, replying, "would you like a ride to my home?"
"Yes, please, Matty!" You return with a playful cheekiness, as if all he offered were a homemade sweet or extra credit opportunity.
He snorts at your quip, muttering "you're too sharp. Let's go."
s: Matt realizes some things about you. And himself.
cw: RELIGION KINK, reciting prayers, sucking on crosses, smutty smut, kinda bratty!reader, dom!matt vibes, biting, teasing, fingering, use of good girl, no beta we die like whores
a/n: it's the scene this gif is from that changed me mind, body, and soul
The first time it happened, Matt thought it was a fluke. A coincidence. You were over at his place, laying in his bed, and he’d taken his shirt off. He was tired, you both were. Curling around you and feeling your body against his sounded like the perfect remedy for that.
As his button-up dropped to the floor, the fragrance of your arousal filled his nose, catching him a bit off guard. This was far from the first time you’d seen him without a shirt on. He smirked nonetheless, his head cocking slightly as he raised his eyebrows at you.
“See something you like?” As he got in bed next to you he could feel his necklace shifting on his chest, the gold cross warm after being against his skin all day.
“Well, yeah,” you replied and he could hear the smile in your voice. Your hands were soon on his torso as you got closer. “You always look better without a shirt on.”
Then, you were straddling him, grabbing the gold cross around his neck and tugging at it until his lips were against yours. The scent of your arousal only got thicker and Matt’s arms went around you. He moaned gently as your tongue slipped in his mouth, his cock twitching beneath his underwear.
When you grinded against him, still tugging at his necklace, he could feel the wet heat of your arousal soaking through the fabric of his boxers. Matt moaned again, this time out of pleasure and a bit of surprise. He’d never had trouble getting you wet but it usually took a little more than taking his shirt off and kissing you.
For a moment, he tried to think back to if he’d done something different, something to get this reaction from you. Did he say something on the call during lunch? Had he been wearing something new? Were you ovulating? Did he—?
You grinded against him again and Matt’s hips jerked up, his cock fully hard now. Your hands found his erection, pulling it from his briefs and wrapping your fingers around the base. As you started moving your hand, Matt could no longer find a good enough reason to think about anything that wasn’t your skin against his.
—
When it happened again it was… harder to ignore. Matt was praying, which wasn’t something that happened often but it also wasn’t unusual. You had walked in on him without realizing. Your face felt hot at the intrusion and you couldn’t help but notice he didn’t have a shirt on, fuck— why didn’t he have on a shirt? How slutty can you be, Matthew? On your knees, praying, with no fucking shirt on?
Your eyes landed on his bare back, then on the black cord around his neck, which you knew led to that simple gold cross. Your skin felt even hotter when his head tilted, indicating he very much knew you were there. You cleared your throat, averting your gaze.
“Uh, sorry,” you breathed, about to back out of his room when he smiled, his eyes opening.
“It’s really not that big of a deal.” It was when he spoke that he realized how flustered he’d made you. He caught your taste on his lips, his tongue instinctively darting out over his bottom lip for more.
He stood and your breath hitched at how his muscles tensed and shifted before he turned. You bit your lip at how his sweats hung on his hips and when you looked up at his face you could feel more want burning in your core.
Matt was in front of you now, that teasing smirk still present.
“Everything okay?” he asked and you clenched your jaw. You could here it in his voice, that he knew exactly how you felt and he was playing with you on purpose.
“Yeah.” You made sure to keep your tone even. He reached up, adjusting the cross so it hung a little straighter, his fingers slowly trailing over it before he reached down, linking his fingers with yours.
“You sure?”
That bastard. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Matt smiled before leaning in, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek. His stubble brushed against your skin, his lips left behind just the tiniest damp spot, he paused and breathed you in, his exhale tickling your skin and sending a chill down your spine. You could feel your underwear getting wetter.
“Okay.” He pulled back, clearing his throat just a bit. “You staying the night?”
You hated him, you hated him, you were going to let him fuck you so hard. “Yeah.”
—
The last time was really more of a test than anything. Matt wanted to be sure before he brought it up. He didn’t want to make things awkward if he was wrong. Even though he felt pretty confident, he still really enjoyed toying with you. So, it was a win-win for him.
You were sitting on his couch and he was in his bedroom, the door closed. He’d just gotten home from work and he was changing into something more comfortable. He kept his necklace on and pulled on a thin pair of gray sweatpants. The ones he knew you liked because they left ‘nothing to the imagination,’ according to you.
He slid his door open, making a point of adjusting the cross as he walked past you and to the kitchen. Your eyes caught on him because how could they not. He was walking sin with his sweats hung so low, making it obvious he had no boxers on, and his flushed lips pulled up in that cocky smirk he loved to tease you with.
“You hungry? I could make us something or order takeout if you’d rather that.” He opened the fridge, grabbing a beer and popping the top off.
“Takeout sounds good,” you murmured, your eyes unable to find their way to his face. His abs tensed and the golden cross shifted gingerly against his chest.
“Okay, where from?” Matt couldn’t find it in himself to hide his smile as he walked closer. He leaned forward against the back of the couch, one arm resting in front of his chest and the other still holding his beer. His necklace swung back and forth.
“Um….” You gritted your teeth, your cheeks heating up before you whispered, “You are such an asshole.”
Matt’s eyebrows raised and your face felt even hotter. While you meant to say that to yourself, there was no such thing when it came to him.
“You wanna try that again, sweetheart?” His tone was just a tad condescending and your mouth opened as you struggled for words. Then, feeling resilient, you glared and grabbed his bottle, pulling it from his hands and sitting it on the table with a resounding thunk.
“I said—” you got on your knees on the couch, “you are such—” you grabbed the cross, yanking him forward, inches from your face, “—an asshole.”
You crashed your lips to his, still tugging the cord of the necklace taut. You reached up and carded your fingers through his hair, moaning as his tongue invaded your mouth. Your trailed your hands down his torso, palming over his half-hard cock. Matt’s hands slid under your shirt before he pulled back to tug it off.
“Y’know, you could’ve just said something,” he purred, his lips trailing down your neck and across your chest.
“I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” you replied coyly. Matt chuckled before nipping at your skin, drawing a gasp from you.
“Really? Well, we could stop, if that’s the case.” He pulled away completely, a grin breaking his face, and you made a noise of disapproval, grabbing his necklace again.
“Goddamn it, Matthew.” You leaned forward and he let you press your lips to his just a moment. You could feel his hand going over yours, encouraging it to uncurl before he leaned down. He trailed kisses over your forearm, then your wrist, before finally pressing his lips to the cross.
You held back a moan, your eyes glued to him as he kissed it again, his lips also brushing against your palm. He let go of your hand to push you back, encouraging you to lay against the cushions. In one swift motion, he was over the couch and between your legs. You rolled your eyes.
“Show off.”
Matt laughed, roughly grabbing your thigh and hiking your leg over his waist. “I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t like it, sweetheart.”
You opened your mouth to reply something snarky but you paused when your eyes caught on the cross swinging back and forth between you. You caught it in your mouth, biting on the cord before tugging Matt closer.
Matt’s eyebrows raised when he heard a gentle sucking sound come from your lips. “Are you—?”
His breathing hitched when you moaned, you hand palming over his cock that was now desperately straining against his sweats. He swallowed roughly, trying not to moan as you continued to suck on the crucifix. You started rocking your hips against his and you grabbed his hand, moving it to your chest. Matt realized that he had stilled, mesmerized by the sounds you made. He could feel his cock throb with want and his eyes rolled back, his lids shutting completely.
“Christ,” he breathed. You let go of the necklace, letting it lazily fall from your mouth.
“Language, Matthew,” you chided and he scoffed.
“You….” He huffed. “I didn’t think I’d be enjoying this as much as you but I definitely am.”
You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “You like it because it feels wrong and that’s one of your favorite things to do.”
Matt raised his eyebrows at you and you giggled, tugging at the cord one more time. “Don’t act like I’m wrong.”
Matt shook his head. “I’m not.”
—
He couldn’t get it out of his head, the sounds your mouth made and how overbearing your scent became as soon as you pulled at his necklace. He couldn’t stop thinking about how your heart had skipped a beat when he pressed his lips to the cross. His couldn’t help when his thoughts would wander to how the walls of your cunt had fluttered around his cock when the emblem caught between you both as he had pulled you up into a kiss.
Matt woke up the next morning painfully hard. You were on your back next to him, sleeping soundly. That gold cross seemed to burn into him now and a blush spread over Matt’s chest as he shifted to his side. That heat spread up his neck and over his face as an idea popped into his head.
He reached out, finding your side and letting his fingers travel over your naked body. He started tracing small shapes on the inside of your thigh, his cock throbbing as a moan escaped you. Matt licked his lips, his fingers going up further between your legs. He continued to tease until he could hear your heart rate accelerating, letting him know you were awake.
You sighed contently and Matt smiled at you, his head tilting up. “Good morning, angel.”
You hummed, your breath catching at the sight of his erection. The head of his cock was red, pre-cum leaking from the tip as it twitched, desperate for attention. Slick flooded between your legs and Matt moaned, making you glance up to see a lazy smirk pulling at his lips, his eyes half-lidded.
“Need you,” he breathed and you bit your lip as his fingers teased at your entrance. He swallowed, seeming to compose himself as got closer to you. “I wanna try something with you.”
“What?” you asked, your fingers ghosting over his chest.
“I want you to pray to me,” he murmured. Your heart pounded and your eyes widened.
“What?”
You searched his face for any sign of a joke only to have complete sincerity reflected back at you. Your breathing hitched as two of his fingers pushed inside you, stopping when he got one knuckle deep.
“The Lord’s Prayer, recite it to me.” His voice was like honey, sweet and thick, wrapping around you. “Be a good girl, pray to me.”
“What do I get in return?” you asked, trying to rock your hips against him only to feel him pull his hand back.
“You get what I think you deserve.” He grabbed your side, pulling your body flush to his, trapping his cock between you. His hand found it’s way back between your legs, drawing another moan from you as he ghosted over your clit. “You want more, sweetheart?”
You nodded fervently. “Please.”
“Then pray.” His fingers swirled around your clit in languid motions. It was just enough friction to make you want, need, more. You exhaled, heat spreading through your body as you began.
“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” Your voice was breathy, becoming uneven as his fingers curled inside your pussy. “Thy kingdom come, thy will— fuck.”
Matt’s fingers brushed against your g-spot and he smiled. “That’s not how it goes, angel.”
“Matt,” you whined and he shook his head.
“Start over.” He massaged your clit with his thumb, his fingers curling but not moving like you so desperately wanted them to.
“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name—”
His fingers started moving in and out of you, picking up speed as you continued.
“—thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us— oh, Matt—” You could feel that coil starting to twist inside you and as you tried to rock your hips against his hand, Matt pulled away completely, making you cry out.
“You can’t stop, angel. Again.” You bit your lip to hold back a whine and he grabbed your leg, pulling in over his waist. You gasped when you felt the head of his cock teasing your entrance. “C’mon, sweetheart, be a good girl for me.”
Your chest heaved and your arms snaked around his neck as you pulled him into a kiss. You could feel his hips rock into you as you slipped your tongue in his mouth. You both moaned, his hand coming up to hold your face. He bit your bottom lip, tugging gently before he pulled away. He pushed you back into the bed, suddenly over you as he lined himself up with your cunt.
He paused, his head tilting up to you as he waited. You whined in frustration and he smirked, shaking his head, refusing to give in to you.
“Our Father, who art in heaven—” he pressed inside you, moaning softly, “hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done—”
You gasped as Matt rocked his hips into yours, the cross on his necklace swinging between you. “—on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us of our trespasses—” Matt moaned, his pace getting faster, his head dipping closer to your ear.
“—as we forgive those who trespass against us.” You paused, your brows scrunching together as you felt an orgasm curling inside you. You clung to Matt as he got faster, his moans hot and heavy in your ear. You bit your lip hard to resist saying his name and your eyes widened when you realized he was slowing down.
You whined, squeezing your eyes closed.
“And lead us not into temptation—” Matt’s hips snapped against yours, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles. You cried out, your nail digging into his back. Matt’s teeth bit into the crook of your neck, a firm reminder to finish what you started. “—but deliver us from evil— oh, God—”
Your eyebrows knitted together as your orgasm built, your back arching as the tension pulled tighter.
“For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours—” Matt growled, his lips pressed to your ear and his breathing heavy as he reached his climax.“—now and for ever.”
He groaned, his hips stuttering as you cried out, your pussy clenching around his cock like a vice. Your body shook as your orgasm took over, Matt’s cock throbbing inside you as his cum painted the inside of your cunt. He pressed open-mouth kisses down your neck, whispering your name over and over as he rode out his high.
Warmth rushed over you as his thrusts slowed to a stop. He stayed buried inside of you, his face resting tucked beneath your chin. You let your eyes close, a smile forming on your lips as that comforting haze hugged your body.
Once Matt’s breathing returned to normal, he pressed a kiss to your cheek and pulled out. He laid next to you, immediately pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you. You both settled in the silence, neither of you completely sure what to say.
You pressed absentminded kisses to his chest, drawing a chuckle from him when you spared one to his necklace.
“That was, um….” You glanced up to see Matt smile, you returning the gesture as a blush painted his face. “That was fun.”
You laughed. “Fun?”
Matt hummed approvingly and you grinned, nuzzling into his shoulder.
“That’s certainly a word for it, Matthew.” You nipped at his collarbone and you felt his fingers tracing circles into your back. There was a pause while you played with his necklace, gently tugging at the crucifix. “You gonna tell your priest about this one?”
Matt scoffed, his eyes rolling despite his smile. “No, I don’t think I will.”
-----
a/n: i will not be apoligizing for how poorly this is written lmfao
tag list: @murdock-barnes @dropsofprecipitation @thirstybitchs @e-dubbc11 @murdocks-devil @hellskitchenswhore @mindidjarin
other tags cause i know yall want this: @splendiferous-bitch @saintmurd0ck
