Sugar, Please - Thirty Two
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artist!reader x sugardaddy!matt
chapter summary: Matt's been going out as Daredevil.
series warnings: 18+ for smut, canon-typical violence, age gap, huge wealth gap, AFAB reader, slow burn, semi-retired daredevil
notes: old devil Matt... hehe
word count: 3.9k
"I want to fill my mouth with your name. I want to eat you whole."
- Pablo Neruda
The penthouse had fallen into a strange rhythm lately. Blooming springtime during the day. The Devil at night.
You noticed it most in the little things.
Matt leaving dinner half finished because his hearing caught something blocks away or Peter called him with a lead. The faint bruises blooming across his ribs for the first time a few days ago, and the private rooftop access door clicking softly shut at two in the morning.
Twice this week. Then three. Not every night like years prior, but certainly more than you'd ever witnessed. The case was tightening around all of you now.
Tonight the studio had followed you home. Your laptop sat open across the marble kitchen island beside several handwritten recipe notes. Dilly slept sprawled dramatically across one of the dining chairs like a tiny exhausted CEO.
Soft music drifted quietly through the penthouse while you worked. Updating the EverSweet website. Editing photos and scheduling posts. Your newest syrup launch for the bar had officially sold out in two days. Two. The bar now had "Made With: EverSweet Specialty Syrups” printed directly onto the cocktail menus. Your stomach still flipped every time you stopped by to visit.
An hour and a half later the rooftop door opened. You looked up instantly from the couch. Matt moved down the steps a lot slower tonight. His footsteps heavier. Breathing rougher. He stepped fully into view clad in the suit, but you could still see the damage peeking through. Bruising along his chin and a split lip. He was holding onto one side too carefully. Your stomach turned immediately and you stood. “Matt.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re limping.”
“...mostly okay.”
You walked him toward the master bathroom without another word. This had become familiar to you now, the antiseptic and warm washcloths. The song and dance of him pretending he wasn’t hurt and you ignoring the pretending entirely.
Matt sat on a plush bench against the wall across from the twin sinks, while you cleaned blood from the edge of his mouth carefully. His hands rested loosely against your thighs that were partly between his while you worked. Tired. Quiet. It felt like he was watching you while you worked, in his own way at least. “What happened?”
“The warehouse raid.”
You paused slightly. "You guys did that tonight?"
Matt nodded once and your stomach dipped. “Peter and Luke?”
“Fine.”
You relaxed slightly. Matt’s fingers stroked absentmindedly along the bare backs of your thighs while you pressed along his torso, checking for bruising near his ribs. You muttered to yourself, "Okay- Good," when you didn't find any tender spots that made him wince.
"You're going out a lot more."
Matt was quiet for a moment. “We’re close.” There it was again, the sharpness underneath him lately. The Devil pacing. You pressed into a spot gently against his hip and Matt hissed softly through his teeth. Well, found the bruise. “Sorry," you winced.
“Don’t apologize.”
You glanced up at him and immediately your brows scrunched up in concern. Because exhaustion sat all over him tonight. Physical, yes, but also soul deep. You brushed the damp hair back from his forehead gently. “You need sleep.”
Matt’s hands tightened slightly around your thighs. “I need to finish this first.”
Your chest ached a little. Sometimes you thought he came home just open enough to let you put him back together again.
The bathroom was quiet except for the soft drip of water into the sink where you had the used cloths soaking, Matt's labored breathing, and the faint creak of leather every time he shifted beneath your hands. The Daredevil armor still covered most of him, black and red and distressed from use. The mask sat discarded on the bench next to him.
You dabbed carefully at the cut near his jaw again with salve. Matt’s hands tightened slightly around your thighs, clearly an involuntary twitch this time. Tense. You felt it immediately. “So what happened?” you asked softer now. Matt was quiet for a long moment. “We were too late," he said roughly. Your chest tightened.
“We had the location, schedules... We knew they were there.” His jaw flexed hard. “But something must've tipped them off.” You paused your hands. Matt's gazed landing somewhere over your shoulder now, not really present in the bathroom anymore. “When we got inside," his voice roughened slightly, empty.”
Oh. You felt your heart sink immediately. “They moved them?” Matt nodded once. His gloves fingers flexed unconsciously against your thighs again. “Hours earlier maybe, everything was scrubbed clean.” The frustration under his skin was palpable now. Sharp. Restless. So angry at himself.
You stepped closer automatically. Matt finally turned his head toward you then. And there was fear in his eyes beneath everything. Of failing, running out of time. His jaw tightened once before he spoke again, quieter this time. “Every night I tell myself we’re one step closer," he paused, “But every night they’re still out there.” His hands tightened against your thighs.
And every time I leave...” he swallowed. “...I wonder if this is the night I don’t make it back to you.”
Your face softened instantly and you set the tin of salve down, taking his face carefully between your hands. “Nothing,” you said firmly. Matt’s brow furrowed slightly and you leaned in closer. “Nothing keeps you from me.”
His breathing caught. Hearing his own words reflected back at him like that nearly undid him. Your thumbs brushed gently over his stubbled cheeks. “You hear me?”
Matt stared at you for a long second, like he couldn’t quite believe someone could have so much faith in him. Then, almost sheepishly, “You really believe that.” You smiled, “With everything I have.”
His eyes closed for a moment, letting himself borrow your certainty because he’d run out of his own. When he looked at you again, the panic had eased. “I never used to think about coming home.”
Your breath hitched.
“I’d finish whatever needed to be done.” A quiet breath. “If I came back, I came back. Now I-” His expression softened in that way it only ever did with you. "...I just hear your voice every time I leave.”
You felt your eyes sting immediately, leaning in to kiss his cheek tenderly.
The room fell quiet again. You ran your fingers gently through his still damp hair while he leaned into your touch without thinking, his breathing finally evening out. The tightness around his shoulders slowly unwound beneath your hands as you scratched his scalp lightly, his eyes fluttering shut.
You brushed the hair back from his forehead carefully. Then, completely against your better judgment, you huffed softly. Matt blinked, brows furrowing. “What?” You looked away, suddenly shy. “Nothing.”
“Princess.”
You groaned quietly. “I’m was thinking about how I just... just patched up the guy who was on my middle school binder.” Matt went still instantly. Then quietly, “Ah.”
You immediately laughed harder. “Oh my god- Don’t sound so smug.”
Too late. The corner of his mouth had already started pulling upward. Because yes, he remembered that conversation vividly. Long before you knew. You, trying on beautiful clothes for him while casually admitting, “...I had the biggest crush on Daredevil growing up...” while Matt nearly choked to death internally. You shook your head laughing. “I cannot believe I confessed that to you before I knew.”
Matt leaned back slightly on the seat against the wall as you covered your face briefly, openly enjoying himself now. “You know,” he said casually, “I don’t think I ever asked, what exactly it was that you found so fascinating about Daredevil.” His grin widened when your heart sped up nervously. “You never actually elaborated.”
“I am absolutely not elaborating now.”
“No?”
“No.”
Matt hummed thoughtfully, “I seem to remember you saying it was a very serious crush.” He tilted his head just enough that you knew he was listening to every tiny change in your body language. “So… was it the acrobatics?” You stayed stubbornly silent. “...The suit?”
Your heart jumped, and you crossed your arms like you could hide it. He chuckled quietly. “The suit,” he repeated with entirely too much satisfaction.
“I was a teenager.”
“Mm.”
“Teenage girls aren’t exactly known for their nuanced appreciation of vigilantism.” Matt’s hands slid slowly from your thighs to your waist. Interested now despite everything.
“No?”
“No. I mostly thought you looked…” you trailed off. Matt waited patiently, smugly. “…cool.” His smirk widened instantly and his hands tightened on your waist a little.
“That’s not what your heartbeat is telling me.” You sighed dramatically. He can patch himself up next time. You huffed and finally admitted, "Fine, hot. Can we please never speak of this again?”
“Absolutely not,” he said, far too pleased with himself. “I’ve been dying to ask you that.” His smirk lingered for another moment while his thumb absently traced the patch of your bare skin under the hoodie. The amusement faded just a little.
“Honestly,” he murmured, “I spent a long time worrying the reality wouldn’t live up to whatever version of Daredevil you’d built in your head.” He tilted his head down. “That seeing this,” he removed a hand from you and his fingers brushed the suit, “would scare you.”
You stepped closer immediately, fingers tracing lightly over the armored chest, and his hand made its way to your cheek. “You could never scare me.”
Matt studied you carefully, and you smiled softly. “Besides. I think we've established that teenage me would actually pass out right now.” Matt laughed quietly under his breath, low and warm. Then his hand slid gently beneath your jaw. "And present you?"
Your breath caught slightly. Because the suit always did something unfair to his voice. Matt went utterly still. And a slow, understanding smirk spread across his face.
"Princess." Your stomach flipped. Matt's thumb brushed slowly across your lower lip. And quieter now, "Do you want me to put the mask back on?"
He tilted his head, studying you for one long second after asking, then he reached for the helmet. Your stomach flipped immediately. The movement alone did something to you now, the familiarity of it, the ritual of the Devil putting his face back on. But this time not to leave you. For you.
The mask slid back into place, and God, you actually felt your knees weaken. The red lenses glinted as he stood, reaching for you, and began to walk you backwards slowly.
The suit clung to him like a second skin. The deep crimson and black leather molded over dense armor plating, the chest and shoulders reinforced with segmented black kevlar. Scuff marks and dried blood streaked over it like war paint. The horned mask sat low over his face, the glossy red lenses catching the low light and giving nothing away. Beneath it, his jaw was tight, mouth pulled back in a faint smirk that made the sharp line of his stubbled jaw stand out even more. He looked darker like this, and the lower part of your stomach clenched in anticipation. Holy fuck.
“You like this a little too much, sweetheart.”
Your breath caught. Because his voice had shifted subtly with the mask on. Lower, roughened by the mask and whatever was still thrumming under his skin. Dangerous in a way that curled heat low in your stomach. Matt’s gloved hands tightened at your waist. Possessive.
You laughed nervously despite the heat rushing through you. “This feels unfair.” Matt continued to walk you back, stalking slowly. Predatory almost. Like every sense he had had locked onto you completely. “You know what I think?” he murmured. Your back touched the bathroom counter. “What?”
“I think if we'd met like this you would’ve followed Daredevil into an alley without a second thought.” You made a scandalized sound immediately. “That's not true.”
Matt chuckled lowly beneath the mask, leaning in until his nose brushed your temple. “Your heartbeat says otherwise, angel.” Oh. Your face burned instantly. “You can’t keep using that against me.”
“I can. And I will.” The gloves slid slowly up your thighs beneath the oversized hoodie. Your breath hitched and Matt’s head tilted slightly.
He somehow looked smug even through the mask. His plush lips still curled into a pleased smirk. His tongue peeked out, licking over his bottom lip. You heard him inhale sharply, likely at your growing arousal he'd picked up in the air. And suddenly he moved, quick enough to make you gasp. One second you were against the counter, the next lifted effortlessly onto it. Your legs parted automatically around his hips as Matt stepped between them. One gloved hand braced beside your head on the mirror while other gripped your thigh.
Jesus. The broadness of him like this. The armor. The adrenaline still humming beneath his skin. Your fingers curled instinctively into the strange material covering his back and shoulders. “You're still keyed up from earlier aren't you?” you whispered. Matt exhaled slowly through his nose. "Little bit.”
You could feel it now, the tension thrumming under the controlled breathing, The leftover violence. But with you it transformed into something else entirely. Focus. Obsession. Matt leaned down slowly until the front of the mask brushed your forehead lightly.
Your hands slid up his shoulders automatically as Matt kissed you. Or tried to. The mask made it awkward enough that you burst out giggling against his mouth. Matt groaned immediately, “You’re ruining the mood. I thought you liked the suit.”
“I do. I just didn’t think through the logistics.”
Matt chuckled softly too now. Warm and breathless, finally loosening up. Then he tilted his head to adjust the angle and kissed you properly. Deep immediately. The taste of rain and copper and Matt flooding your tongue. Your hands slid to cup the sides of the mask instantly while his gloved hand gripped your thigh harder, other hand still planted on the mirror.
The taste of him still lingered when you pulled back just enough to breathe. Your fingers slipped to the hem of the hoodie and you tugged it off in one clumsy motion, leaving you in just the thin camisole beneath.
You reached for him next, hands dragging slowly over the armored chest padding and then lower, until your fingers found the lower clasps of the suit. You worked them open with shaky determination, and the second you got him free, Matt’s head tipped back with a rough exhale. “You’re making it very difficult to think,” he grunted, voice thick.
“That’s kind of the point,” you whispered back.
You looked up at him through your lashes while your hand wrapped around the thick, heavy length of his cock. He was already so hard and flushed it made your stomach flip. You gave him one slow stroke from base to tip, thumb brushing over the head, and Matt made the prettiest sound, a half moan, half whimper that vibrated low in his chest.
“Fuuck,” he breathed, hips twitching forward into your hand. Another stroke and he grunted, the sound low and rumbling. His gloved hand tightened on your hip, thumb still stroking soothing little circles even as his body jerked.
“Every time I took a hit tonight,” he admitted, voice rough and gravelly, “I thought about coming home to this.” Another stroke pulled a low grunt out of him. “To- Aah, to you.”
You smiled softly, twisting your wrist just a little on the upstroke. “I can tell," you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the edge of his jaw, "You sound so pretty when I touch you like this.”
Matt let out another groan, his hips rocking into your hand in tiny, desperate movements. He was clearly trying to hold still and failing. The sight made your cunt clench around its current emptiness.
He only lasted another few seconds of your hand before something in him snapped. With a sudden, rough motion, Matt grabbed your thighs and yanked you hard to the very edge of the counter, dragging you right up against him. The movement knocked a surprised gasp out of you. He slid the crotch of your panties to the side unceremoniously.
One gloved hand stayed locked around your thigh while the other gripped the base of his cock, guiding himself. He didn’t give you any warning, just shoved his cock inside you in one smooth thrust. The stretch punched shaky moans out of both of you. Matt’s head dropped forward again, and he nosed affectionately along the side of your neck, mask brushing your skin. His hands were shaking, his lips parted around short, rough breaths as he pulled back again. His bottom lip was so plump, red and slick with a little blood where he’d dragged his teeth over the reopened split.
Matt didn’t wait after that, and every thrust knocked the breath from you. You grabbed at the armor on his shoulders, fingers digging into the leather. The stretch was almost too much, the angle so deep it felt like he was hitting the very end of you with every drive of his hips. “Fuck, Matt-” you gasped, thighs tightened around his waist, “You’re so deep.”
He made a rough, hungry sound at that, one gloved hand sliding up your body until it wrapped loosely around your throat. He just held it there, feeling your pulse race under his palm. “Yeah?” he rasped, voice thick and distorted. Another hard thrust punched a sharp cry out of you, and he groaned again, hips stuttering for a second. “Taking it so well, sweetheart.” You squirmed, trying to shift your hips back when he slammed especially deep, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. Matt’s hand on your throat tightened just a little, enough to hold you in place.
“Where are you going?” he murmured. “Stay right there. Let me have you.” The command came out rough, almost unrecognizable under the mask. You whimpered, hands scrabbling at his shoulders again. He was so deep it felt like he was slamming against your cervix with each roll of his hips, and every time you tried to twist away from the intensity, his hand on your throat gave a gentle squeeze that made you moan instead.
“Matt-oh my goddd- too much,” you babbled, voice shaking. The muscles in your legs kept twitching as you grabbed at him like you couldn’t decide if you wanted more or less.
He chuckled low and dark at how worked up you already were, the sound vibrating through the mask. “Already shaking so much. You like it deep like this, don’t you?” You nodded helplessly, another breathy whine spilling out of you as he kept the same punishing pace. You were spiraling fast, the white dancing across your eyes already shocking you.
“I- I’m gonna-” you barely got the words out before it hit you. Your climax crashed over you suddenly and intensely, your whole body seizing up as you clenched rhythmically around him. A high pitched, embarrassed cry echoed off the bathroom walls while your thighs shook around his hips.
Matt made a surprised, pleased sound and slowed just a little, hips grinding deep as he felt you pulse around him. He groaned low at the feeling. Then he let out a soft, breathless chuckle beneath the mask. “Already?” he asked, voice low and teasing. His hand loosened around your throat so his thumb could stroke gently over your jaw. “God, princess… that was fast.”
Your face burned even as the aftershocks rolled through you. Matt didn’t stop moving. He kept thrusting, grinding into that same spongy spot, but his grip on your throat eased into something gentler. Just holding, feeling your pulse flutter under his glove. After that first orgasm your body had gone soft and loose, limbs heavy, head tipped back against the mirror.
Every thrust pulled a quiet, breathy little whine out of you, and you weren’t squirming anymore. You just took it, thighs lax around his hips, hands resting loosely on the armor at his chest like you were too spent to do anything else. “My sweet girl,” Matt murmured, voice rough as he leaned close enough to brush his mostly covered nose into your cheek. “So pretty like this.”
You made a soft, needy noise in answer, hips rocking up to try to meet him in lazy little rolls. Managing to tilt your head enough, you pressed a clumsy wet kiss to the corner of his mouth. Matt made a quiet, affectionate sound at the gesture. His other hand slowly slid between your joined bodies. The moment his gloved fingers brushed over your clit you jolted, a shaky protest slipping out. “Matt- n-no, I can’t again,” you breathed, voice hoarse, “Too much…”
Matt let out a low, amused chuckle. His thumb stayed right there, rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit even as you weakly shook your head. “You can’t?” he echoed, voice dripping with mock disbelief. Another especially deep thrust made your breath hitch. “You just came all over my cock in under a minute and now you’re telling me you can’t come again?” His thumb pressed a little firmer, drawing a helpless whimper from you. “That’s cute.”
Your face burned, but your body stayed pliant beneath him, hips still rocking up instinctively even as you protested. Matt’s hand on your throat gave a gentle, affectionate squeeze. “Thought you were my good girl,” he teased, voice low and playful. “Guess I was wrong.”
You made a soft, embarrassed sound, thighs twitching around him, but you didn’t push his hand away. Matt kept the same slow, deep rhythm, his thumb working your clit in steady circles while he thrusted into you in perfect rhythmic strokes. “Tell me who’s making you feel this good,” he said, voice rough but still teasing.
“Y-you are.” you managed, barely more than a whisper. “Who?” He gave another hard thrust, thumb circling faster. You whined, fingers curling weakly against his chest.
“The- nngh- The Devil is-”
Matt groaned, clearly pleased. His hips snapped forward a little harder now, the fat girth of his cock stretching your walls with every thrust. “Say it again.”
You tried, but the words dissolved into a broken moan as the combination of his cock and fingers finally pushed you over. The second orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your whole body seized up, back arching against the mirror as you came with a loud cry. Your thighs trembled violently around his hips and you clenched down on him so tightly it forced a guttural moan out of Matt’s chest.
He kept fucking you through it, his fingers still working your clit as you shook and whimpered beneath him. Every thrust dragged another helpless sound out of your throat while you stayed soft and pliant in his hands, too overwhelmed to do anything but take it.
“Fuck, that’s my good girl,” he rasped, finally pulling his hand from between your legs so he could grip your hip instead. His hand now held you steady as he chased his own release, his thrusts turning rougher, less measured. You were still making soft, helpless little cries with every thrust, too sensitive and floaty to do anything but take it. “I know, angel. Almost-" he grunted, "Almost there.” He lasted only another minute. With a few jerky thrusts he buried himself to the hilt and came with a low groan, his cock twitching inside you as he ground you down onto him. His grip on your throat and hip tightened just enough to keep you in place while he rode it out, breathing hard and ragged.
Matt stayed there afterward, head tucked into your neck as the storm in him finally settled, his gloved thumb gently stroking your jaw as you both caught your breath. His hand left your throat and instead cupped your cheek, gloved thumb stroking tenderly over your cheek.
“You did so good,” he murmured, voice low and a little hoarse. An embarrassing, barely audible whine was all you managed in response. His thumb traced over your lip affectionately before he spoke again in something closer to his usual voice. “I’m sorry, sweetheart… I know that was a lot. My perfect girl.”
notes: anyone need anything? water, snacks, tranquilizer?
matt and reader both being switches take two 💋
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