#daredevil smut

[lilacmurdock]

do you guys hear that? .... it sounds like fratt and reader... idk tho my hearing kinda sucks

part two dropping tonighttt

[eatommo]

With Teeth [m.m.]

Summary: Matt discovers a certain someone is stalking you, the devil in him gets jealous.

Wc 2.1k

Cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, nonconsensual voyeurism, stalking, allusions to hidden camera or other recording devices, boyfriend!Matt Murdock, marking, possessiveness, dirty talk, overstimulation, pinv smut, pussy eating, nipple play M receiving, fingering, Frank Castle is only mentioned (this time 👀) feral!matt, rough sex, bruises, choking. Cuckolding? If you squint? Let me know if I missed anything

The first time he came over, Matt assumed that the man he smelled around your apartment was a tenant. As things with Matt got more serious and he spent more time in your building, becoming familiar with your few noisy neighbors, he noticed that the man wasn’t someone who lived there; he wanted to believe it was maybe a friend of yours.  

The first time he stayed at your place, he heard someone on the fire escape a few floors above you. His keen senses were quick to make work of the man; this time a faint smell of gunpowder lingered with the smell of his aftershave. The scrape of his boots was measured, and the typical creak of the rusted metal was limited and practiced.  

Two floors away, no stopping, Matt sits up and wakes you quickly. Drowsy, you stir and ask, “What?” The sound of the boots is still and creaking as if he were leaning or kneeling, and Matt seems to ignore you, his chin cocked toward the window.  

He rubs your bare shoulder for a moment; whoever this is is near enough for Matt to smell the leather of his boots. As if feeling the heat of his attention, the man turns and moves up the side of the building until reaching the roof. "Nothing, I just thought I heard something.”  

His hand squeezes you, soothing you back to sleep. You hum, and your heart slows steadily. Some of his nerves are fighting to relax; the simple man in him longs to curl up next to you.  

That sour, twisted part of his mind is telling him that man wants you and is coming to look at you. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I’m going to go check the door.” 

Your weight shifts in the bed under him, dragging the curve of your ass across his front. “You okay?” The sleep in your voice is undeniable, but he swears he hears the hint of a smile that makes his stomach flutter. 

He places another longing kiss on your shoulder, dragging the path of his mouth to the nape of your neck. You shudder beneath him, and he smells your arousal surrounding him, threatening to distract him from the man who seems to be crossing the roof. “I’ll be quick, humor me.” 

With only a little protest, he stands pulling his boxers on and stepping into the living room. Striding into the living room and straight to the window, he breathes deep, praying he can find whoever this is.  

You almost always stay at his place; it’s closer to your place of work, and has a much better mattress, though Matt has always used the excuse of navigating new places. Now all he can think about is how often this person visits you without your knowledge.  

He locates his watch, 4:50 am. Nowhere near a convenient hour for either of you to be awake. While technically Matt’s work doesn’t allow him a weekend, he decides his morning will involve investigation into this intruder rather than anything of value to the firm. 

He hears you shuffle across the bed, clicking on your bedside lamp, and a soft groan draws him back to the room. The steps are fading across the street and then southbound.  

The blood running through his body is hot, his skin flushed beautifully red, his dark chest hair rising rapidly with his breathing.  You furrow a brow, nervously teasing, “You’re freaking me out a little.” 

He lets out a dark laugh. “You’ve seen me naked already, sweetheart.” Stepping to the foot of your bed, feeling for your ankles under the cover, he squeezes them tightly. “We both know how well I fit.” 

The hitch of your breath releases him, the sheet is ripped away, and the cool air mixed with the heat of his hands running up your legs has goosebumps chasing his fingertips. Your legs part, begging for his attention. Hands on your ankles again, he yanks you to the edge of the bed sinking to his knees. Kissing the flesh of your thigh, letting his tongue dart out to collect the taste of your skin, hints of him linger from just hours before.  His cock strains in his boxers, uncomfortably pressing into your bedframe, but at the same time the pressure is welcomed.  

He nips at the same spot; you are practically purring for him. He can’t have more patience, the need to devour you and to mark you is driving him mad. Fingers tightening around your waist, he pulls you onto his mouth. 

Small licks to your swollen clit nearly have you arching off the bed. You watch, folding an arm below your head, heart pounding as Matt eats your pussy like the master he is. The pads of his fingers spread you apart; he licks from your hole up to the tight bundle of nerves, groaning and pushing deeper time and time again.  

He swallows greedily, drinking in your taste like it will cool the fire in his belly. His cock weeps in his underwear, and he dares not touch, afraid he won’t be able to control himself, but also oh so driven to cum deep inside your pussy. He doubles his efforts, sucking rhythmically on your clit. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging on the thick strands, as if pulling him closer were even remotely possible.  

“All you gotta do is cum sweetheart, then you can have what you really want.” The break earns a broken huff from you; his voice hardly sounds like himself. “You still taste like me.” 

His face is flushed, his lips swollen, and the stubble on his chin carries traces of you.  “You look so good.”  The complaint comes out like a whine, “Fuck.” He nips at your thigh again, harder this time, before sucking a bruise into the skin.  

“You can turn the light off if it’s distracting you.” Your mouth falls open,  and instead of a retort, you moan as he moves back to your clit, edging a finger into your opening ever so slowly. 

The orgasm surprises you, approaching quickly but building into a tidal wave of spasms as Matt is unrelenting with the movements of both his hand and his tongue.   

Your legs are shaking by the time he stops, sucking an identical bruise onto your other thigh while rubbing soothing circles into your hips with his thumbs.  

He runs his hands over the skin as he finds his footing again, satisfied with the imprint of his teeth and the heat of the blood pooling beneath the skin.  Onto the next task. 

In the yellow light of your room, you are just able to make out the shine of precum on his boxers.  The fabric sporting an all too familiar tent, your body, which seconds ago felt boneless, is suddenly humming in anticipation of the overwhelming pleasure that only Matt has ever been able to give you.  

Your breath is ragged and deep.  He steals the air from your lungs, kissing you deeply and leaving your own taste in your mouth.  Your hands roam the plain of his chest, caressing the sensitive skin of his sides and dragging your blunt nails up his back as you try to pull his body closer to you, craving the touch of his skin against yours. 

He nearly hisses when the tip of his cock nudges against you, the seam of his boxers almost painful against his hypersensitive skin.  There is a low hum of adrenaline in his veins; it converts that pain into the most addicting need to smother you in his smell, in his cum, and to keep you endlessly under his protection.  

Small whispers pull him back to your mouth, somehow hearing your words plain as day but not retaining a single letter.  Instead, he interprets the caress of your hands, the feeling of your mouth on his, and the sweet smell of your arousal as the same sick obsession with him and his body.

He works the boxers down his hips, freeing the thick length of his cock from its confinement. He can hear the flutter of your lashes as your eyes drink him in; even blind, he can still feel you admire him.  

“Something you want?” His voice is even huskier, rough like the grip of his hands that move you back to his side of the bed.  Feeling the blood vessels break and swell beneath his fingers on your thighs as he parts you, the slickness of your thighs a beautiful combination of all the night’s pleasures.   

 There is nothing gentle about his first stroke; you press your foreheads together and moan in synchrony.  The tight grip of your pussy surrounding him is a wicked form of relief; the muscles in his back relax under your palms.  He starts slow and relentlessly, drawing out almost completely before sinking back in, every inch of him feels like a mile with the angle of his hips. 

He is driving up into you, against the flat palm of his hand that rests on your belly, applying a firm yet exasperating pressure deep in your core.  His forearm next to you is shaking furiously; a thin sheen of sweat covers him as he does everything he can to make you scream for him.  

He adjusts, sitting up slightly so that he can use that supporting arm instead to hold your throat.  The swift beating of your heart beneath his fingers drives him further to the edge, he lets his fingers tighten ever so slightly.  The squeeze of your cunt reacting to this is almost enough to finish him, but something is off.

He tries to shake it off, listening intently to the sound of your whimpers as he feels you tighten around him, nearing the edge of the last orgasm he will give you before he leaves to hunt down this man who dares to even be close to you. 

Your hand runs up his abdomen, seeking the soft sensitive bud of his nipple.  His pace falters only slightly. He doesn’t brush you away, instead tightening his hand on your throat until he can hear the sick, evil laugh that dies in your chest as your climax swirls right below the surface. 

“Dirty, dirty girl.”  His head snaps to the right, there’s a faint echo of his own voice coming from a building over.  You dig your nail into the stiff flesh of his nipple, catching him off guard.  His concentration breaks as you orgasm around him, and he follows, the hand around your throat coming over your mouth, smothering your moans and muffling them in the echo across the street.  

He feels disoriented. Is it a video feed? A bug? How long has this guy been listening? If it weren't for you tilting his head up and checking on him, he might've just stormed into the night then and there.  His suit is at his place, of course, the curse of trying to take a single night off. 

You grab his face. “Matt?” He seems unfocused and unlike himself as his chest continues to rise and fall rapidly.  

“Yeah?” he manages in between gasping for air.  It was definitely some incredible sex, but he is not settling like he usually does.  You try to approach him, sitting up, but he nudges you back down into the bed and motions for you to turn the light off quickly.

“What’s going on?” You obey, the room plunging into darkness.  He interrupts you.

“I did hear someone; I think there is something in here recording us.” He whispers, listening intently to the building next door for the distant call of his own voice. Nothing.  Not even the whisper of static of a bad or failing connection.   

Ice runs cold in your veins, and you clutch at the sheets that are askew on the bed. “I’m going to call Frank.”  You speak, resolutely, thinking that will get Matt to agree but also expecting a bit of a fight.  

“Use the sheets to cover up and get dressed,  pack clothes, and tell Frank to meet us at mine.”  His seriousness matches your own; he moves quickly.  You pull the sheets up towards your chin, ripping them free of the bed and wrapping them around you like a towel.  

Matt approaches you, his feet moving silently across the thin carpet, not bumping into a single piece of furniture.  He kisses you sweetly on the forehead. “I’ve got you baby, it’s going to be okay.” 

It does make you feel better,  you know, Matt. You know what he can do.  Yet as you watch him enter into your living room and avoid even the small obstacles of your shoes on the floor, you leave space for him to continue to surprise you.

[herodrip]

RIGHT THERE…… matt puts those pretty hands to work

18+ MDNI

🏷️ fem!reader,foreplay,fingering,pretty vanilla [0.5k]

There’s nothing fast or rushed about foreplay with Matt Murdock,not when your pretty hands are all over his scarred skin pulling him towards your shared bed,lacy lingerie discarded on the floorboards and fingertips dancing over the hard muscles of his body. They’re all over his biceps,down his abs,wrapped around his neck as you pull him down on top of you. Pouty lips are on yours,pressing against you with a familiar softness while skin whispers against skin like you had a secret language that could only be spoken when you were lost together between the sea of sheets.

Your eyelashes kiss the stubble of his cheek as his mouth finds the delicate skin of your outstretched neck. Your pulse drums erratically under his open mouthed kisses,sweet sweat starting to bead under the flat of his tongue as he sucks and nips at your skin. The taste of you,salty and faintly soapy goes to his head instantly,it makes him feel drunk and off balance,dizzy and euphoric,it makes him harder than he’s ever been in his life. The sounds of the city outside the windows fade away into nothingness as you take control of his senses,his brain,his body. He can pinpoint the second your heart skips a beat when a hand of his drops to your knee to pry your legs open,the smell of your skin,freshly washed and perfumed with that vanilla fragrance he loves mixes with a wave of your arousal,so heady and intoxicating. The sound of your hair rustling against the crisp bedsheets as you squirm and writhe when he finally gets his fingers in between your thighs is like music to his ears. And he teases,of course he does,he circles your clit with the pad of his thumb till your heavy breathing turns into whines of pure pleasure. He runs his fingers through your wetness,painting your puffy folds before prodding a digit at your entrance,just enough to have you grinding your hips desperately against him. And god it’s like nothing he’s ever felt,so warm and inviting when you grab his wrist and urge him to plunge two fingers into your heat. Your little gasps and moans are like a choir of angels that are singing solely for him,so breathy,so urgent. You’re so wet and warm,you’re dripping around his digits like they were made to be inside you,swallowing him in till he’s knuckle deep. Each pump of his fingers is stretching you out and hitting that spot deep inside of you that has your eyes rolling and your toes curling,an orgasm already starting to build deep in the pit of your stomach.

And although he can’t see you,you can see him. His cinnamon kissed hair is tussled over his forehead,his eyebrows stitched together in such concentration and restraint that it makes your breath hitch in your throat at the sight. He’s beautiful. The want and need is etched onto his face like one of those marble sculptures frozen in time. Your man sculpted by something sacred and oh so divine.

[tinythebunni]

being Dex’s pretty princess, his chosen prize from his turn to the good side.

Ben had noticed you a few weeks prior in a cafe, already fixating on you just because of the smell of your perfume. watching you fiddle with the hair tie on your wrist, a slight indent on your skin from the pressure of it being there so long.

you turn around once you get your drink, a strawberry ry dragonfruit lemonade. hmm, a sweet tooth. his thoughts are already running rampant.

he’s already taking notes of your preferences, subconsciously obsessing over you without even realizing. your eyes meet his for a quick second, his possessive gaze turning nervous in seconds.

Dex’s breath hitches as your eyes gleam, the corner of your lips turning up in a way that makes his heart stutter.

Dex sees you again when he’s following you taking a walk outside of his usual path. His curious eyes follow you inside of a bar, watching how you sit on a bench and rest your head on your hands. He can see the way the weight on your shoulder seems to dissipate with every drink, every exhale forced out with a sigh.

for awhile he contemplates going in, starting a conversation with you, opening up the idea of a real friendship instead of just stalking you.

his thought process is annoyingly, interrupted when someone comes behind you, a bit too close for comfort, resting a hand on the small of your back. his pace picks up as his hands clench into fists, already inside the bar before the guy can even say some fuckass pick up line.

“you’re too close.” the guy balks for a second, not expecting the lady he’d seen drinking alone to have company.

“woah, i didn’t know man” he trails off with a slight tremor in his voice, unease creeping into his skin as Dex analyzes him. Remembering every part of his face so he can take care of him later.

A hand on his arm calms him though, looking down to see your wide eyed playful gaze. “it’s okay, he was just leaving.”

for a second, Dex thinks you’re talking about him. it’s not until your hand tightens around his arm as he moves away that he gets the hint.

finally alone, you smile and fully turn to him. a breathless “hi” leaves your lips, nerves firing up millions as you finally meet the man haunting your bedroom and your every step.

he stays silent for a bit, surprised that he finally gets to meet you, even more surprised that you seem to be showing interest in him. it’s only when you quirk an eyebrow at his silence that he remembers how to speak. “ oh fuck-hi, I’m Ben.”

[moonymirah]

DEX’S DAMN TWO FINGERS…. i just know he’d finger you so, so well ! he’d start slow, shoving his index and middle finger in your hole not before wetting them in his mouth, eyes stuck on you. ever so softly, he’d begin to to shove into your entrance as your lips widen the further he goes. he’s delicate and light, sure to not make you feel uncomfortable, cooing at you while his free hand strokes your head.“that’s it baby girl, loosen up for me.” once you’ve clenched around his fingers a couple of times, your walls welcome him in as he begins twisting around. he doesn’t rush, letting you gulp his digits in till you’re full. dex watches closely, increasing speed and continuing to leave and enter your throbbing pussy. as your feet begin to move up and down, legs scrambling and toes fidgeting — dex grabs onto a thigh, holding you still. reflexively, your pelvis shifts; rocking back and forth, side to side as he carries on fingering you till you’re a quivering and shaking mess.

[murdockirl]

Need to eat someone out.

[dollyface3]

soft sex with daredevil?!? maybe he is wounded, just got back from a fight and he is all whiny and aching.

yes yes I love this so much!!

tags: matt murdock, pinv, no protection, cream pie, mentions of blood (at the start), arguments, smut with fluff, porn... with plot?, man without fear era, injury, semi already established relationship.

not sure if I missed any tags let me know if u notice any.

You had known Matt since college—I mean, it was an on-and-off type of situation. You had found out about his secret "hobby" one night when he stumbled into your apartment, the rain hammering against your window. He showed up bleeding and desperate for help.

​This had become a routine. Late at night, he'd come crawling through your window or banging on your door when a fight had gone south. Tonight seemed different, though. I mean, sure, he was definitely hurt. His blood dripped from your window sill where he slid through, and there was a pool of rain on your carpet.

​Your keys jingled in your hand as you opened your door, the mess becoming apparent the second you entered.

​"God, Matt, I just had this cleaned," you whined into the room.

​A soft chuckle came from your couch. "I'm sorry, sweet girl. I'll make sure it's cleaned for you. Desperate times and all that." He sat up with a grunt, hand to his chest.

​You locked your door, moving towards the first aid kit that was kept on standby after one too many times of using your good alcohol to clean out his wounds. You crouched down next to the sofa and started lifting his shirt to get a better look.

​"Whoa, whoa, what's the rush, hmm?" he asked, his hand meeting yours, his body arching forward to lean his face close to yours. "No small talk? I love our conversations," he said softly, his hand moving up the side of your face, smearing blood from his hands on your cheek.

​"I'm tired, Matt. We do this little song and dance every week. I'm starting to believe you are letting them hit you just so you can slide in here and bleed on my floors," you said with an honest sigh.

​He scoffed, moving back down to the sofa, letting you start to clear away the blood. The silence was long and awkward, nothing but the occasional sound of sirens passing.

​Suddenly, his breath hitched and a long whine of pain rang across the room—drawn-out cursing as his body stretched, trying to stop the pain.

​"Stay still," you warned, wiping away the blood trailing from his ribs, down his abs, to his hips. You carefully slid a needle through the skin, starting to close the wound.

​His hand wrapped around the muscle of your arm gently. "Please, sweetheart, talk to me," he begged.

​You started mumbling something to him about work stress, some crazy dude showing up in the cafe you work at. The wounds finally closed up, letting you bandage them. He slowly sat up with a grunt, thanking you with a smile.

​Your eyes scanned over his chest, looking over the scars and bruising for any other open areas.

​"You know I can feel you watching me," he said with a smugness in his voice.

​"I'm trying to make sure you don't die," you muttered with an eye roll.

​You moved away from the sofa to the sink, wiping away the blood from your hands and face. You unbuttoned your blouse slightly, enough to reveal your chest, trying to cool off. You felt his warm body press against your back, his hands wrapping around your waist, and one hand traveling up to your chest.

​"Mmmh, I thought you were mad at me for a second, but one more move and this would slide right off," he said, his fingers traveling into the top of your bra, touching the soft skin.

​"It's not for you, asshole. It's hot in here and I want to sleep," you hissed, moving away from him. "You come over, bleed on my floor, my bed, my sofa, my walls, everywhere. We fuck, you leave. Same every time. I'm tired, Matt."

​He moved in close, pushing the hair from in front of your face slowly. You knew he could hear your heart pounding in anger; you knew he could feel the sweat pooling on your skin.

​"I'm sorry, I really am. I'm just trying to keep this city safe. A good work-life balance has never exactly been my forte," he whispered, moving close to your neck, his lip brushing against the skin. Soft kisses trailed up your neck, his hands meeting your waist again.

​Tears pricked your eyes. It hurt because you cared so deeply about him, but every time you felt yourself relaxing around him, he disappeared without a trace.

​"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to feel every inch of your skin. I want you, but..." he trailed off in guilt.

​"But the city is more important. I get it," you snapped. You pulled him closer to you, inches away from his lips. "If this is a game to you, leave now and never come back. But if this is what you want, kiss me right n—"

​His lips met yours before you could even finish your sentence. Desperate, hungry—like he was searching for that piece of love in you, the bit that lets him stay. His hands moved to your clothes, undoing the rest of the buttons, moving the fabric from your skin.

​You both moved towards your bedroom, lips still intertwined. Greedy hands explored each other's skin like it was still the first time. Your fingers traveled across the ripples of scars on his skin, the strained muscles in his back. Your back hit the wall of your bedroom, the damp coldness of it sending ripples of goosebumps across your body.

​His lips left yours, letting you catch your breath. His mouth traveled down your neck and onto your chest. He pulled on the straps of your bra, letting them slip off your shoulders, reaching around to undo it. The fabric slumped onto the floor around your feet.

​His tongue slid across your breast, hitting the hard nub of your nipple. His mouth latched around it, his tongue swirling around it. The saliva was warm and stringed between you and his mouth as he moved to the other side.

​His hands moved to the backs of your thighs and pulled you up into his arms.

​"Matt, you're gonna hurt yourself picking me up," you whined.

​The fabric of his mask rubbed against your skin while his mouth still sucked on your nipples. He didn't respond, lost in his excitement. You could feel his bulge against your underwear. Your skirt was ridden up against the fat of your thigh, the tight fabric digging into your skin.

​Your head hit your pillow. You watched him pull off his shoes and undo his belt, letting his trousers hit the floor. A loud creak echoed through the room as he climbed onto the bed, his hands pushing your skirt up, letting the fabric ripple and crease around your waist. His fingers hooked around your underwear, pulling them to the side, exposing your cunt to the cold wind flowing through the room.

​The feeling didn't last long, though. His mouth connected with it before your mind could process. A loud moan escaped your mouth. His tongue slid up and down, making sloppy noises, swirling around and around your clit, building up a tension that made your legs shake.

​"Fuck—Matt, honey, that feels amazing," you moaned, your nails digging into the pillows surrounding your head.

​"You think you're ready for me, hmm?" he mumbled.

​"Y-yes, yes," you yelled, your voice shaking. "You need to be careful—I—fuck, I don't want you to hurt yourself."

​He moved himself up, propping himself above you, his muscular arm against the headboard. He pulled down his boxers, his length bouncing down, precum sliding down the tip, dripping from it onto the bedsheets. He leaned down, his face close to yours again, lining himself up.

​"Wait—take off the mask. I want to look at you."

​He usually left it on in times like this. Maybe it was so he could slip away back into the night; maybe it was his way of keeping his cards close to his chest, keeping his distance, making sure you didn't get too attached to him being around.

​He did take it off this time, sliding the black fabric from his face. Bruising covered his upper face—dark purple bruises and swelling circled around his eyes and nose.

​"Oh, Matt..." your fingers traced them.

​"What, am I really that bad-looking?" he said with a soft laugh.

​You scoffed in response. "No, of course not... I just... didn't realize... Who? Who would do this?" your voice was hushed.

​He leaned back closer, planting soft kisses on your face. "That doesn't matter, sweetheart. It's unimportant right now. All I care about right now... is you." His voice was so calm, so soft it melted away at your worry.

​His tip slid across your entrance, his wetness mixing with yours between your legs. "So soft, so warm... shit—please, sweetheart. Can I? God, please," he begged, soft whines between his words.

​You agreed, your fingers sliding through his damp hair. You felt him push into you, filling the aching space. Your face turned flush, lewd noises filling the room.

​He moved slow at first, very, very slow, like he was trying to explore every inch of you in a way he hadn't before. He'd normally rush, be rough with you, never whimper, never speak—just grunts. This felt different. His soft whines and whimpers, his voice so desperate like a man who was starving.

​His hips started bucking back and forth quickly, his hand sliding into yours, holding you closely, kissing your skin between praises. "Oh, my sweet girl—you're taking me so well. You feel so good."

​You were so close to coming, your body feeling like it was vibrating, a veil of euphoria covering your body.

​"Matt—please, I'm so close."

​You felt your body tip over the edge, your orgasm rippling through your body.

​"That's such a good girl. Yes—yes, sweetheart, let it out," he praised, his breath quickening, making him pant.

​His orgasm followed close behind, his heat coating your insides, the warmth only extending your climax.

​After catching your breath, he tumbled off, lying next to you. His body moved as close as he could, his arms wrapping around your waist, his stubble-covered jaw hiding itself in the crook of your neck.

[murdocklilith]

Luv vacation but I NEED to go home and WRITE especially a smut but…….for who?

Smut oneshot for who??

Daemon Targaryen

Matt Murdock

Jacaerys Velaryon

Voting ended onJul 10