Matt Dierkes is the most chill, yet territorial person you know sometimes.
18+ mdni, explicit sexual content!
Saw @concretejunglefm repost this pic of Matt in his lil jersey a couple weeks back and that shit has been burned into my brain ever since. Enjoy some thots <3
You’ve worked with Matt and been friends with him long enough to know how serious he can get about work, and how possessive he can be with his things.
And still, you poked the bear. You didn’t mean to, but it happened.
He was supposed to be in the venue, not walking onto the bus where you were doing your best impression of one of his crash outs for the band as a joke.
He didn’t care what you were doing, just that you were wearing his Dallas Stars jersey that he definitely did not give you permission to wear, all of the guys staring at you with “DIERKES” across your back.
The band was shocked when you got wide-eyed and apologized. You were always giving Matt shit, always owning your words and actions even if you were wrong.
They didn’t see it in his eyes, though. You knew you messed up seeing that territorial gaze.
You had the jersey off so fast your crew shirt came halfway up with it, almost exposing your chest.
Matt, ever the professional, kept his cool through that day and the show that night. He even kept it together through the next morning and afternoon as everyone played mini golf for the off day.
That ended when you got to your hotel room afterwards.
You two have shared hotel rooms for a while. You’re such solid friends that no one really questions it (other than the band, who probably knows more than they let on).
There were jokes in the beginning as everyone wondered what was really going on inside those hotel rooms of course, but Matt shut them down.
The funniest part is they were all absolutely right.
Friends with benefits was convenient for you two on tour. Better to get off with someone you know and trust than some random stranger.
It never got in the way of work or your friendship (aside from the insatiable feelings you developed for him) and no one had any reason to question it.
You hadn’t expected Matt to be petty about the situation, but oh, you were wrong.
He went straight for his clothes and pulled the jersey out, throwing it at you with no warning.
“Put it on.”
You started to question him, but it was stuttered and he didn’t let you finish.
No, he stalked right up to you and pinned you down with his eyes alone.
“Take everything else off and put it on.”
No room for negotiation or argument.
So you do. You take off every scrap of clothing you have on, right there in front of him, and pull the long-sleeve on.
“Do you know how hard it was to see you in this and not bend you over that table?”
It clicks then, the way he looked at you the day before.
It wasn’t about the jersey. It was about you in the jersey.
He usually has a little bit of mercy on you even when he gets rough.
This is different, though.
He gloats about neither room on either side of you having any of the band or crew, so none of them will hear him spanking you until your skin is bright red and stinging.
He makes you choke on his dick until tears slide down your cheeks.
He pulls your hair hard enough that your scalp will be sore the next day as he fucks you from behind.
Only briefly does he lay kisses on your shoulder and slow down, your arms shaking while you try to hold yourself up and he leans over you.
“My name looks so good on you.”
“You want everyone to know who you belong to?”
“Should I leave a couple bruises on this pretty neck to claim you? Clearly you wanna brag about it.”
You’re so overstimulated by the time he’s done with you and all you want to do is curl up and sleep.
Matt shocks you when he cuddles up with you, arms around your waist and his forehead resting against yours.
You almost have a heart attack when he kisses you, slow and tender.
It’s against the rules and the boundaries you both decided on when you started doing this.
Nothing too lovey or romantic. Slow and sensual sex is fine, but showering together, kissing. . . It’s “too intimate.”
He never kisses you like this. On your neck and shoulders or chest or thighs, sure, but never your lips.
Never like this.
When he notices you frozen in place, he stops and apologizes. He starts to slip away, but you hold him tight and press your lips back into his.
You’re dizzy when you finally stop for air and Matt’s breaths are shaky.
“You can wear it,” he whispers. “Whenever you want, it’s yours.”
“Matt, I thought we said . . .”
“What’s mine is yours, in this room and outside of it.”
“But the others —.”
“The others can all go fuck themselves,” he cuts you off. “You’re mine and I really don’t care if anyone has a problem with it.”
Free use!Reader cock warming Matt during sound check 🤭 He's so mean about it too, roughly squeezing your thigh if you're moving around too much, telling you to be good and stay still unless u wanna be fucked infront of everyone.
well this thot woke the horny before bed 🤭 consider this a little bedtime story 💕
Matt says it like it’s a threat, though it hardly feels like one when the ache blooming inside you could be satiated by him giving in instead of forcing you to sit still, feeling the slow pulse of his cock inside you. The slightest shift causes him to press right against your g spot, with barely enough pressure to send you into a white hot, body trembling climax, only enough to keep you hovering there, suspended, eyes rolling back and left catching your breath.
Each time you move, you tighten around him, and he answers with a rough squeeze to your thigh, a low growl brushing your ear, breath warm against your skin. “Keep doing that and you know what’ll happen.”
The usual sweetness in his voice is still present, only now it’s dripping in saccharine, like he’s pushing you, taunting you, daring you to disobey him, because he wants to fuck you in front of everyone as much as he can feel the way you want it from every clench that’s followed each thinly veiled threat he’s made.
The faint twitch of him inside you steals your breath, your head tipping back against his shoulder, resisting the urge to let out a brewing moan. His hand settles on your stomach, then slowly drifts lower, the pressure drawing a deeper awareness of him, of the fullness he brings. “Matt…” you breathe, biting down on your lower lip, not daring to make a sound, though still desperate to, your hips aching to rock, needing some form of relief from the taunting ache between your thighs.
“I know, baby. I know,” he murmurs, voice gentler now. “Just be good for me while I work.”
Lower lip trembling, you attempt to fight back a whine, closing your eyes and focus on breathing, on grounding yourself, until his fingers slip beneath your dress. Every small attempt to move is met with a pinch to your clit, the sudden pressure sparking a jolt through the bundle of nerves, a tantalising mixture of pleasure and pain that keeps you teetering on the edge, a reminder that you’re just a plaything, a warm, wet hole to be used—a good, obedient pet at their servitude.
MEU ANJO 💕 may I please have “God, you feel so good.” — “Yeah,? Then shut up and keep going.” - with Matt? 🫣
hii, meu bem! you may have whatever you want, always, yes. i hope you like this hehe.
CW: unprotected sex, p in v, angry fucking, open ending.
🔞 bellow the cut, minors please dni.
You knew working for Matt was going to be hard.
When you got hired as his assistant for the next Bad Omens tour—helping him run FOH and tech—you were warned: he’s a perfectionist. He doesn’t let shit slide.
But you knew you were good at your job, so you thought you could handle it—him. You just didn’t expect him to be so fucking unbearable.
Every show, you nail it. Every cue, every background playback, always perfect. But every night, Matt still finds something to ride your ass about.
And tonight, you’re finally done taking it.
“You just don’t fucking listen!” He says, stepping into your space backstage, jabbing a finger at you.
The air between you feels charged—thick and heavy.
“I listen fine!” You spit back, slapping his finger away from your face. “Maybe you just can’t stand having someone who won't take your bossing around like a little dictator—”
“Oh, fuck off!” He cuts you off with a sarcastic, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You just can't admit you’re sloppy on the job!”
The band members glance between you once, silently—and then immediately move to leave. As they walk away, you can hear Noah muttering, “Just fuck it out, for fuck’s sake” as they disappear around the corner, leaving you two to your disaster.
It happens fast.
All it takes is Matt grabbing your wrist—tight, dominating. You rip free, push at his chest, telling him to, “Get away from me, you fucking control freak!”
His teeth practically bare when he snaps next.
“You sure you wanna keep running that mouth, sweetheart?”
You don't really think before you speak. You’re angry—furious, in fact—and it makes you reckless.
“Try and make me shut it.”
The way he moves next almost scares you.
Matt’s hand wraps around your arm, tight enough to make sure you can't escape his hold this time, pulling you along with him as he marches down the hallway, dragging you toward the nearest empty room.
You don’t even have time to protest before he shoves you inside and then back against the door, his chest pressing against yours, pinning you in place. He reaches for the lock behind you, turning it in one smooth, angry motion, shutting you away from the rest of the venue.
“I’m so fucking sick of you,” he snarls—and then he’s on you.
His hands tear at your clothes like he can’t get them off fast enough, grabbing fistfuls of your shirt, yanking it over your head so fast the fabric burns against your skin.
Before you can even catch your breath or make sense of what's happening, Matt’s already popping the button on your jeans, wrenching the zipper down, and dragging them halfway off your hips with a roughness that makes you gasp.
You don’t just stand there and take it, though—you shove at him, grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling it so hard over his head he nearly stumbles.
“Fucking impatient, huh?” He grits out, voice dark with approval, but before you can say anything his hands are already back on you, shoving your jeans the rest of the way down, leaving you to step out of them.
You give back as good as you get—tugging at his belt, fumbling with the buckle and pulling on the leather until it clatters to the ground with a sharp metallic thud.
He curses low under his breath when your nails rake down his stomach, desperate, making their way down before you start clawing at the button of his jeans next.
You both nearly trip over the mess of clothing littering the floor, neither of you caring, too drunk on the anger, on the need burning between your bodies. Every movement is messy, greedy—not enough, never enough.
When he finally kicks his jeans off, he’s grabbing you again, pushing you back against the wall, and for a moment you just cling to each other, half-naked, breathing like you’ve been sprinting for your lives, devouring each other with your hands and mouths.
Matt hooks his fingers under your panties as you kiss—all teeth and tongue, messy, wet—and rips them off your body with a rough tug.
“Don’t need these.” His voice is dark, strained, the growl in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.
You gasp, thrilled by how quickly he’s unraveling, and you slide your nails down his chest in return, marking him with the needy hunger growing stronger inside you.
His breath catches, a low growl vibrating through his chest.
“God, you’re such a fucking handful,” he mutters, before using his knee to nudge your legs open. His fingers reach between them, sliding between your folds, easily finding how wet you already are for him.
He pauses, shuddering at the sensation, and a hoarse, amused laugh escapes his lips as he feels you tremble under his touch.
“Of course. Of course you’re fucking soaked for me, you dirty little brat.”
You can’t help the desperate whimper that escapes your lips, hips grinding against his hand as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment. His fingers curl against your clit, pressing down, teasing the throbbing nub.
“Matt—” you moan his name, and your fingers tremble as you tug his underwear down, feeling the heat of his body under your touch.
When the fabric slides down his legs, he steps out of it quickly, cock springing free and eyes darkening with something feral, watching you as you drink him in. He's breathing heavily, muscles flexing as he kicks the underwear away, now standing bare and so fucking perfect in front of you, his gaze never leaving yours.
Without warning, Matt moves again, lifting you effortlessly by the thighs. As you wrap them around his hips, he locks you in place and presses you hard against the wall.
He doesn’t give you time to catch your breath—no warning, no hesitation.
Matt drives into you in one swift thrust, pushing hard, his muscles flexing as he presses so deep inside you that it leaves you gasping for air. Every inch of him buries in, stretching you in the best way, his breath hot against your mouth as your foreheads meet, a deep groan escaping both of you.
You let out a broken cry as he begins to fuck into you right away, hard from the very start, using you to release the tension that’s been building up all these weeks.
“God, you feel so good,” he chokes against your mouth, already sounding so wrecked it makes something inside you coil tighter with heat.
“Yeah?” You claw at his back, panting your words out, breathless. “Then shut up and keep going.”
Matt does as he's told.
He pounds into you like he’s trying to wreck you, hips snapping with a punishing pace. Each thrust feels like it’s pushing deeper, filling you so completely—thick, hard. You can’t stop the way your body shudders in response, clenching around him as he drives into you, making you dizzy with the intensity.
The way he fills you up, every stroke, every inch, has you trembling, lost in how perfectly he fits inside, leaving you desperate for more. The air is thick with sex and the sound of skin meeting skin, both of you drowning in the overwhelming, raw need of it all.
One of his hands fists in your hair, yanking your head back so he can attach his mouth to your neck—kissing, biting, messy and desperate. You moan, the sensation of his teeth against your skin sending waves of pleasure straight to your core.
The other hand holds the leg around his waist in a gripping bruise, holding on tightly as he forces your body against the wall, his thrusts growing harder, faster.
“Fucking mouthy brat,” he growls against your ear, his voice rough. “Made for me. You were made to be fucked stupid by me.”
The words make your walls clench around him again, involuntarily, your body responding to every filthy insult. You can only moan, your hands desperately clutching at his shoulders, your nerves on fire from the sensation of him moving inside you.
His hand then slides up from your thigh, between your breasts, fingers wrapping around your throat, just enough pressure to make you gasp, your eyes locked with his as he fucks into you relentlessly.
“Gonna come for me, aren't you?” He growls. “Gonna soak my cock like the desperate little thing that you are.”
Your climax builds inside you, the pressure rising with every word, every thrust. You can feel it close to snapping, your body trembling with anticipation, your breath coming in frantic gasps.
And when another one of his filthy words hit your ears, something inside you finally does snap.
You cry out, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train—body shaking, clenching around him like a vice as he groans, his grip tightening around your throat with the overwhelming feeling.
Your nails tear at the skin on his shoulder blades as you come, and that’s all it takes for Matt to lose control, too.
He buries himself deep inside you with one last thrust, coming with a rough, broken groan. His breath huffs against your skin as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his body shuddering, every tremor rippling through you. You’re both wrecked, clinging to each other, still pressed against the hard wall.
Neither of you moves for a moment—just breathing hard, trembling in the aftermath, holding on to the silence between gasps. His forehead drops to your shoulder, his arms still tight around you, his spent cock still buried inside, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.
Eventually, he pulls back slightly, the hand previously around your neck now gently cradling your face as he looks at you, his gaze softening. His thumb brushes over your swollen lips, still catching his breath.
“Fuck…” he mutters, eyes dark and heavy.
You nod, heart still pounding inside your chest, the weight of everything settling in—the heat of his body against yours, the shared uncertainty of the moment, the delicious post-orgasm afterglow.
“Yeah,” you whisper, voice weak and head still spinning. “Fuck, indeed.”
You just crossed a line here, but you're not sure you ever want to come back from it.
matt fucks you from behind with your hands either tied behind you or he's holding them. railing you. hard and fast. all you can hear is his breathy moans and the sound of his hips meeting your ass. he uses your hands to pull you closer to him just so he can get deeper. you feel every inch of him slamming into you, and all you can do is let out little whimpers for him. he loves fucking you stupid until you can't speak.
(also... the aftercare from this man?? he would love on you and be so so sweet. don't let the hard exterior fool you.... pt 2??)
I would something about Matt realizing he's in love with his dog sitter. Reader is average looking, maybe doesn't really dress super cute or wear makeup. Messy buns and bike shorts all day...but with how much she loves his dogs makes him fall hard. Maybe he comes home to her watch Grey's with them and he then knows he's found the one
It’s hard trying to find someone you trust to dog sit. These are his babies after all. He can’t trust just anyone with his children. Yeah, Matt could kennel them, but that just seems cruel to him.
And then you come along.
Moved in next door; your dog had dug under the shared fence and into his yard. You frantically tried to call him back under before he noticed, but had no luck. You rushed over to knock on his door, still in your pajamas. Matt fixes you with a concerned stare as you explain, and thankfully he isn’t as mad or upset as you expected. His calmness about it helps you calm down. He walks you thru to the back door and you can see your dog and his two zipping around the yard. He chuckles at your sigh of relief then offers you something to drink.
From there, you became quick friends. He gave you extra veggies from his garden, had frequent play dates for the dogs (he didn’t bother filling the hole between your fence so your dog could come over any time he wanted), and eventually you started dog sitting while he was away on tour.
It was honestly such a breath of fresh air having someone love and adore his dogs as much as he did and not having to worry at all how they were doing. You sent him frequent pictures and updates. Sometimes you’d bring them over to your place for a sleep over, but more often than not you’d stay at Matt’s.
Every time he came back from tour, his house always smelled so good and tried to get the scent to last as long as possible. He asked all the time what you did to make it smell so nice and really you did nothing but cook and maybe light a candle or two. He hated when you left bc his house felt less homey and lively without you.
This time, he found you and the three dogs on his couch, Boo comfortably nestled in your lap while Zeus and your dog are cozied up on the other end together. By the way Zeus is snoring, it seems like he’s been asleep for a long while. He sees Grey’s Anatomy on the tv and his heart swells. You’re quite few seasons behind, but the fact that he’s even sucked you into watching in the first place brings him joy.
Matt watches you for a while, as the realization that he fell in love at some point slowly dawns on him. He loves that you treat him like any other person, that you care for his dogs said they were your own, your laugh, your smile. Just you. He loves you.
The sudden hands on your shoulders scare you, but you instantly relax when you see it’s just Matt. You welcome him back home with a big smile that he returns. Then he surprises you with a kiss.
“It’s pretty late. You wanna crash here for the night?”
i cant stop thinking about those fishnet tweets you posted from matt
like imagine surprising him with fishnet lingerie,,,, he'd go nuts
OMG YES.
You've been dating Matt for two months now. You met him through Noah, as he was your mutual friend. After going to yet another party celebrating the end of Bad Omens' tour, you struck up a conversation with Matt. From there your friendship began, and soon turned into something more than platonic affection. You hadn't been intimate with him yet, but your lingering touches have been building.
He asks you out on a date one day, telling you "I'll pick you up at five," giving you no other information.
You desperately text Noah, begging him for a hint of what to wear to your date with Matt.
"All I can say is, I'm sure he'd appreciate some fishnets and thigh highs."
When Matt arrives at your house to pick you up, his jaw sinks to the floor as he notices what you're wearing. A soft black dress ruffles in the wind as you walk towards him, and he notices the criss-cross fishnet pattern adorning your arms and legs. It didn't take a genius to figure out that you were wearing a whole fishnet bodysuit under the dress, and it was just begging to be unveiled.
I’ve been away ever since the last episode of our beloved devil-man dropped because I was very very scared that something reaaaal bad was gonna happen but then I faced my fears and watched the last episode. NOW I CANT WAIT FOR SEASON 2!
But like what the fuck was Fisk thinking putting Frank in a fucking poorly planned jail system? Dumb idiot.
Well, to celebrate all of this and more I’m dropping some very spicy matt-thots. This, like many other matt-thots is going to be filthy. And, it’s heavily inspired by the gala thrown by Mr. & Mrs.Mayor Kingpin. Not the bullet to the chest part just Matty in his brainrot-drooling mess-plis choke me suit.
BESTIEEEEEE I bring a challenge: matty being sweet (gasp! Say what now??!)
You have no idea how hard I had to restrain myself from writing Matty fucking your face, but I will oblige with some sweetness hehe <3
(cw: succulents lolz, matt fluff, very light verbal degredation)
"MUFFIN!" he bellows through the apartment, dropping all his bags and shit on the floor in a heap by the door. "I'M HOME!"
You squeal with excitement.
He's back from his work trip.
Throwing your arms around his neck, you smother his face in sloppy kisses as he wrinkles his nose and pretends to evade your onslaught.
"Alright, alright, all-fucking-right! I get it—you missed me."
"I did," you pout.
He grabs a handful of hair at the nape of your neck, tugging to tilt your face up to his. "I missed you, too, you little skank," he says, catching your lips with his own. "Oh. I, uh, got you a little fuckin', uh, thing."
"A present?" you grin.
"Sure."
Reaching into a small paper bag, he pulls out a tiny little cactus in a llama-shaped pot.
"Oh my god, it's fucking adorable," you say, snatching it from his hands.
"No, it's badass. It's got spikes and shit."
"I love it," you smile, kissing him on the cheek. "It's just like you—cute and grumpy!"
