#matt at the end of a particularly long day:

[farfromstrange]

Customer Service | Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!reader

Summary: After a particularly rough week, all you want to do is cry. It has you on edge and makes you say things you don’t mean. After letting out your anger on your boyfriend, he makes it his mission to take care of you for a change.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), Matt Murdock eats pussy like a champ, fingering, squirting (I feel filthy), emotional hurt/comfort, no use of y/n, no pronouns, reader has female body parts, 1st person pov (?)

a/n: As someone who quit their job in customer service for the exact same reasons I have stated in this fic, this is very personal to me and self-indulgent, again. I wrote this after a particularly bad day. Sometimes I wish Matt were real so he could actually do this to me.

There is nothing in all of existence that I loathe more than people. Why I chose to work in customer service in the first place has become more and more of a mystery to me. I could have quit after the first week, I should have, but whenever the thought crosses my mind, I tell myself: ‘It’s going to get better. You will get used to it.’ I did not, in fact, get used to it. Or, I did, I just started to hate myself even more. Every day I get home from an eight-hour shift, I’m tired, I’m exhausted and I feel the desperate need to throw myself off a cliff. 

There are days when it’s easier. The elderly couple who comes in every Sunday, for example, to drink their coffee and have a lengthy conversation over a piece of cake, never fails to make me smile. They’re always kind, and forthcoming and they tip, even though I know they don’t have the money to.

Or the woman who likes to pick up lunch for her husband, she always calls me sweetheart, and she’s never bothered if her order takes just a little too long. The regulars chat me up and I like it because it makes me feel less alone behind the counter, as life passes me by and I can’t help to stare at the clock every five minutes to calculate how many hours of the day are left. They make it easier to forget about the overtime I inevitably have to put in every night. They know I don’t eat enough or smile enough or drink enough, and so they make me smile because they’re good people. 

But some continuously want to tell me how to do my job, the one I’ve given blood and sweat for to master down to the smallest detail, and those who treat me like I’m responsible for their bad days and those who don’t care that I’m human, I just have to serve.

It’s so exhausting that some people don’t care about the workers behind the counter. I hate that my boss doesn’t seem to care either, that we don’t get paid enough, and that I’m expected to jump whenever they want me to. I got a life too, but that doesn’t matter because I’m cheap and they love to use those who never learned how to say no.

I physically can’t tell them I can’t work whenever I’m asked to pick up an extra shift, or when I’m sick or have to do anything else. It’s not even my main occupation and yet, here I am! Every day, I tell myself, I should just quit. It’s not my responsibility if they can’t treat their employees right. It’s not my responsibility they’re understaffed. I’m a student, I go to college, and I’m working hard on my degree - why should I prioritize my job over the thing that will determine the rest of my life? 

And yet, every day, I go back. I go back and I work until my feet hurt and I’m sick and I’m tired and all I want to do is just cry. I go back because I, for the life of me, can’t say no. I can’t quit. I want to, but I can’t, and it’s killing me inside that I can’t talk about it the way I want to. In the end, I will always feel like everything is my fault and that I messed up, even though all I did was show up to work and turn into everyone’s punching bag. 

My stupidity is what got me here. Usually, I would be home now, studying, but they asked me to pick up a late shift at the cafè again, and I worked for seven hours with only a fifteen-minute break in between - I look horrible, I smell of coffee and cake, and my body is hurting in all the wrong places. The weight is heavy in my stomach. I’m nauseous. I ate, but not enough. I’m hungry. I feel sick. Even the smallest sounds make me want to jump up the wall, kill someone, or perhaps even both. I’m angry, and I don’t even fucking know why because nothing happened. Other than a rather messy day with too much to do and too few people to do the work, the people weren’t even rude and I’ve had worse days - still, I feel everything at once and it’s ridiculous, really, because I’m an adult and I should know better than to let a rough day affect me. I don’t. 

When he called and asked if I wanted to come over, I said yes. I didn’t want to, but saying no? Not something I would do, especially not to him. I walked into his apartment with a lump already in my stomach. The door creaked - God, I told him to oil it - and that was the first strike. I tossed my key into the bowl and it promptly fell back out. Second strike. My coat slipped from the hanger the second I hung it up. Third strike. I breathed, I had to, then went to the kitchen to make some dinner. Cooking usually works, usually, but the day must have gotten to me because the fourth strike - the fucking milk being expired - happened way too soon and it hit me, hard. After that, I was pretty much done for, and I knew, I just chose to ignore it. 

Of course, I should have known I would screw up everything else, too.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice is kind and soft in my ear as he presses a kiss to my cheek. His stubble has never been something to bother me before until that very moment. I flinch away, not sure why. If he realized it - which I’m sure he did - he doesn’t show. 

“Smells good,” he says. 

I put the garlic into the pan. It smells too much like garlic and I hate it. 

“What you making?”

“Pasta,” I tell him. 

He kisses me again. “Mh-hm. How was your day?” the question is stupid, but it’s normal and he always asks. He gets himself a beer - only himself - removes the cap with his mouth and then leans against the counter. 

He shouldn’t infuriate me. He shouldn’t make me angry just by standing there and asking me questions couples ask themselves, but inevitably, he does. And I hate myself all the more for the way my voice sounds when I answer him. 

“Fine,” I say. 

“Fine?” he asks. “How was work?” I feel like he’s getting suspicious. “You only had two lectures today, right? English lit and what was the other one?”

“Linguistics.”

“Ah, yes. Your least favorite.”

Perhaps that’s why I’m angry. 

“You know,” he says and the tangent he goes on after revolves around him and only him, and while I don’t like talking about myself, that doesn’t mean he has to unload all of his stress on me - I don’t know why I think that way and it’s scaring me because I don’t actually feel that way, but at that moment I do and it’s all very confusing.

I just want to lock myself in his bedroom and cry. He looks so good with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up. He’s wearing his glasses, still, but his tie is loosened and he smiles because he knows I love that smile. I should love it. I should love the way his muscles tense underneath his shirt or the way his dress pants hang impossibly low on his hips, but for the first time, I don’t. I don’t love anything, I just feel anger, which makes me hate everything, but mostly myself. 

I must have zoned out. Suddenly, he’s calling my name and he’s calling me sweetheart and he’s poking me with his hands - no, he’s stroking my hips, hugging me from behind, and it’s all too much. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I lie. He knows I’m lying. He can hear it in my heartbeat. He can feel it in the way I move away from him to rinse the now-empty pan in the sink. 

How is the food already finished?

“You didn’t listen to a word I just said,” he dares to sound offended. 

“No, I did.”

“Really, what did I say?”

“You and Foggy had a case, didn’t go well, bla bla bla. Same as every day.”

He sets the bottle down. “Alright, sweetheart, what’s wrong? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Oh, so just because I don’t care about hearing the same story repeat itself every day and you whining about it means there’s something wrong with me?”

He’s taken aback. Quite frankly, I’ve never snapped at him before, not like this, not out of nowhere, and we’ve been dating for over a year. With his super senses, there is little that eludes the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, especially when it comes to his girlfriend. I hate that it’s like this. I hate not having any privacy, even when I try to. But I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want privacy. Or, I think. I don’t even know what I want. I know I want to be around him, but at the same time, it hurts because the anger is too damn hot to swallow, and his concern doesn’t make it any better. It should be, but it’s not. I’m a lost cause. 

“I was just telling you about my day,” he says. I would yell back at myself if I were him, but he knows me. He knows yelling doesn’t help. He knows I’d cry, but maybe that’s what I want. Maybe I want him to yell just so I have a valid reason to cry, to be angry. 

I want him to hate me the way I hate myself. 

That’s why I can’t help it anymore. “Maybe I don’t want to hear about your day.”

“What?”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Matthew!”

He’s confused. I don’t blame him. The second the words left my mouth, I regret them. They make me sound like the most selfish person on the whole planet. I can’t take them back though. If I did, he’d know something is wrong and then he’d worry, he’d pity me and no, I don’t want that. I want to rile him up. I’m not sure why, but it makes me so angry that he’s so calm and I’m… well, I’m me, but I’m also not me. I’m a stranger in my own body. 

I put the pasta in a bowl. It stinks of alcohol and tomatoes and garlic, too much of it. I wonder how anyone could eat that. 

“Here,” I shove it into his hand, “You’ve been served. I’m gonna take a shower.”

I’m a bad person. I’m pretty sure I am. Who yells at their boyfriend because they can’t deal with their own problems? Who makes the person they love more than life itself feel like shit on purpose for no reason whatsoever? A sane person wouldn’t. We have never been a normal couple, Matthew and I, but we’re trying. Turns out, I suck much more than I thought I would.

It’s not the age gap, I’m sure of it. I’m in my last year as an English Major and he’s a defense attorney. Somehow, we make it work. He loves me, I know he does. He’s afraid of rejection - he thinks everyone he loves will leave him, which is why it took us a while to find together. I should have known my words were going to hurt him unimaginably. He thinks he did something wrong, but it’s not him. It’s never him. He’s damaged, but he’s nothing if not perfect to me, most of the time. 

I’m heavily crying at this point, trying to conceal my sobs, but it’s not working. The water is loud, not loud enough to fool Matt’s hearing, but even if he were to hear it, he knows better than to provoke me any further. He doesn’t know what’s going on and neither do I, so it’s just the two of us silently waiting for the other to come around. He shouldn’t have to feel that way. And so I cry more because God, I do not deserve that man. I don’t deserve his kindness or his love. I don’t. I really, really don’t. 

And once I’m out of the bathroom, I remember why I don’t deserve him. 

The table is set for two. Candles substitute for the harsh ceiling light. He knows it gives me headaches sometimes. He put a bowl out for me and a glass of wine. White wine. The sweet kind. The kind he hates but keeps around in case I ever need a glass. He’s drinking red wine. It’s cheap, but it looks expensive and he likes to feel special from time to time. 

I hug my arms around my body. He has his back turned to me, fixing a salad in the kitchen - I must have forgotten it. The way he moves is almost angelic. He moves as if nothing happened, as if I didn’t just treat him like a bitch. He’s singing my favorite song or humming it, anyway. The room smells of him and me and the food I loathed before, but watching him do all of this for me, even now, is sucking the air out of my lungs and suddenly, I don’t mind the thought of eating with him.

I only want one thing. I don’t want to ask for it and he’s not going to do anything unless I talk. We agreed on that from the beginning, no matter what kind of intimacy it involves. Without consent or a proper conversation, nothing will happen. And I curse myself for not being able to speak without the tears blocking my view again. 

“There’s a sweater on the couch,” he states. He knows I’m cold. “And some fuzzy socks, if you want.”

The clothes smell like him. 

“I put some more salt in the pasta. I think you forgot to salt the water, so I took it upon myself. I hope you don’t mind. Also, I tried to make your favorite salad dressing, but I’m not sure if I managed to get it right this time.”

He smiles and then his glasses are gone and he has an apron on and he looks like he loves me, really loves me, and that’s it. I pull my legs up to my chest, falling deep into the couch and I cry. All the pain just comes exploding out of me like an active volcano. 

The leather dents next to me. “Comfort or solution?” he asks. It’s so casual, I get the feeling he’s not mad at me. 

“I don’t know,” it sounds so broken.

His arm finds around my shoulder. “Is this okay?” I can only nod. Yes.

He moves me gently so I’m in his lap and he can rock me like a baby. It feels good to be loved like this, but it’s also suffocating. Still, I can’t help but fall deeper into his hold because this is, in fact, all I needed. Too stubborn to ask for it, I almost ruined something good. I know I did. He knows, too, but unlike me, he knows the difference between me being mad at him and being mad at the world. He knows I don’t mean what I say unless we’re fighting, and this isn’t it. We’re not fighting. I’m just angry and I want to cry, even while crying, and that makes me cry even more. 

“You want to talk about it?” he asks once I can finally breathe again. 

I blow my nose like a disgusting person and say, “Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe.” And that about sums up all of my life. 

“Is it school?”

I shake my head. If it’s not school, it can only be one other thing. 

“Work?”

I nod. 

“Anything happen or just a bad day?”

“Bad day.”

“That’s why you yelled at me? I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No,” I say truthfully for the first time. “I’m just angry. I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Maybe next time try telling me though. I was actually scared I did something until I heard you cry in the shower.”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I tell him that, to which he only chuckles. 

“You know how many times I acted hostile towards you after a long day?” he says. “It happens. It’s okay.”

“I just… I’m so stressed all the time. I hate work and I hate people and I hate not getting paid enough or on time, but I can’t quit because you know, I’m me and they know that, so they take advantage of my inability to say no, and it sucks because I’m so tired of working more than I go to school, but I need the money, and so I can’t leave until I’ve found another job, but no one else wants me, so now I’m here, trying to see the good in this stupid job, but I don’t. I can’t. I hate it. I hate everything and everyone and I hate myself and I think I’ll get my period soon because this should not be upsetting me this much.”

His hand on my back manages to soothe me. 

“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.

He smiles down at me, all loopy, and his sightless eyes are focused somewhere on my forehead, which makes everything so much better. 

“I love you.”

And yes, I love him too. I love him so fucking much, it hurts. 

“I love you too, Matty.”

As soon as I say his name, he knows what I want. He knows I need to destress. He knows I can’t eat until I can forget. 

“Is there something I can do?” he asks, but damn him, he already knows. 

“Can you…” no, I can’t ask him for that.

“Yes?”

“Matt, can…” No. “You know what, never mind.”

“No, sweetheart. Tell me. What do you need?”

“I just…” my chest heaves a frustrated groan. “IneedyoutoeatmeoutuntilIcantremembermyname.”

He enjoys it. He gets off on it, my desperation. “Sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think I did. Can you repeat that?”

“God.” My face is burning. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just, this is the first time you actually asked me and I love hearing you ask for the things you want. It’s sexy.” 

Somehow, that’s even worse. My thighs clench like I’m some pathetic little schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher. 

“You know, maybe you can ask for a raise tomorrow, or quit altogether,” he says. “But for that to work, you have to tell me what you want right now.”

“I asked you to eat me out until I can’t remember my fucking name!”

“Thank you. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

If there is one thing Matt Murdock is incredibly skilled with, it’s his mouth. And I don’t just mean the words that come out. Essentially, it’s all in his tongue. He’s managed to render me speechless on more than one occasion, and he knows. He knows I love when he touches me, but there are times when it has to be about me, and only me, and he’d gladly suffocate between my thighs. He’s told me that time and time again.

He keeps telling me to ask him if I want something. I never do. I hate asking for it because it’s embarrassing. It’s good that he knows what he’s doing, that bastard because if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be cumming and I wouldn’t tell him. Somehow he always gets the job done, no matter how stressed I am. 

That’s why I need it so badly. I need him to take care of me, no matter how long it takes. I know it might take a while because I’m tense and he knows too. He reads my body like an open book. That’s how he knows I’m horny before I even do. 

He doesn’t move for another minute. He just stares at me. “You want me to take care of you?” he asks.

“Please,” I beg. 

“Guess I’ll have dessert before dinner today then.”

He lifts my head and then he’s suddenly on top of me. He’s sliding me up the couch so he can fit in between my legs. I’m dressed in shorts, a t-shirt, and his sweater and for a second I wonder if it’s even worth it. I’m ovulating, I’m bloated. I feel like shit. My hormones are all messed up. I can feel the weight of my boobs tear on my back and I’m pretty sure the hairs on my legs prickle his cheek as he kisses them. It’s making me want to take back everything I asked of him. 

My confidence has taken a low blow this past week. 

Though Matt doesn’t care, he never does. He digs his nose between my thighs and takes the longest whiff I’ve seen him take in a while. To be fair, the last time we saw each other, he was busy with work. We didn’t have time for intimacy, which hardly ever happens. He moans. 

Smug bastard.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells me. It melts my heart. The compliment means so much more knowing he can’t physically see me. To him, I’m beautiful. He couldn’t care less about what I looked like. Although sometimes I wonder what picture he has made up of me in his mind. 

His lips are on mine fast. I can’t help but sigh. They’re so soft. He doesn’t rush, he just kisses me and then kisses me some more. I tangle my hands in his hair. I’m sure, this is what heaven must be like.

“Let’s take this off.” His sweater joins my shorts on the floor. “May I?” He hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of my panties. “Or do you want me to keep them on?”

I have no doubt he could do it with five layers in between and still make me cum.

“Off,” I say. I want this. I have to remind myself that my insecurities mean nothing – he loves me. He wants to do this for me. He wants to do this because he likes it, or else he would say it. 

Matt is vocal, but I’m not. If he doesn’t want to do something, he’ll say. Can’t say the same about me, which is why he asks repeatedly, even after I already told him it’s okay. He wants to make sure I’m on board, that I don’t feel pressured and can pull out any time I want, but I don’t, because the second the cold air hits my bare cunt, all I want is him. 

I can feel his eyes searching for me. “Hey,” he says my name. “We’re not playing this time, okay? You can cum when you need to and how many times you want to. You just have to lay back and relax. I’ll take care of you.” 

He intertwines our fingers on either side of my spread thighs before he dives into me. It’s slow and steady. He doesn’t care about fucking me with his tongue like he usually does. He licks and bites, but mostly, his tongue and lips stay around my clit and they suck. They suck so good, I see stars behind my eyes. His touch sends shocks down my spine. My sensitive walls clench around thin air, but his head is so far between my thighs, I still manage to feel full. 

But no matter how hard I try, I can’t focus. It feels so good, way too good, and on any other day, I would’ve come by now. His beard burns into the inside of my thigh as I rock against him. I try to, but it’s exhausting. I can feel the coil in my lower belly clear as day, and yet it’s too far out of reach. I need it, I crave it. 

I can hear myself saying, “This could take a while.” And he laughs because he finds it funny. It’s not funny though, it’s serious. I hate the fact that he makes me feel so good and I can’t find it in myself to enjoy. 

“Close your eyes,” his breath fans hot against my folds. “And just stop thinking.” 

He makes it his mission to ruin me. I close my eyes and as soon as I do, he’s on me. It’s not just his mouth. One of our joined hands reaches up to touch my breast – he twists my nipple through the shirt until it’s hard and has his attention. The other reaches behind me and lifts my hips. The next thing I know, he has me propped up on a pillow. The muscles in my lower back relax. I sigh. It’s so good. 

He’s given up on slow and steady. His head moves in circles as he abuses – I don’t have another word for it – my clit and eats the rest of me like a man starved. I realize I need it fast and I need it hard. He knows it before I do. His tongue expertly parts my wet folds, a mix of arousal and spit trickling down my thighs, but I could care less. He’s inside of me and then his thumb is there and it’s rubbing and rubbing and rubbing and I’m so fucking close, the knot in my stomach feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, and it’s applying sweet, sweet pressure on cunt. 

“Fuck!” I throw my head back into the leather. My back arches impossibly high, and his head squished tightly between my thighs. I need him closer. His hair is so soft, it makes me want to cry, and I do. I cry, but not in a sad way. I cry out because yes, God yes! and then I’m cumming, suddenly and without warning, hard, all over his face, and it doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop.

The growl is animalistic. It vibrates perfectly through my pussy and I can’t help it – it barely takes two minutes until his lips start hurting so good as they keep sucking my clit, a series of ‘one more’ leaves his lips in a plea, and I’m rocking against him hard. I’m begging him, “Matt,” but I’m not sure what for. 

“C’mon,” he says, “you can give me one more.”

He’s right. God, I hate when he’s right. My toes curl and I push his face so deep into me, I’m convinced he’s running out of air, but that’s what makes him moan and it sends me over the edge.

I’m pretty sure I passed out. The pleasure is so intense, my stomach feels like it’s being torn apart and then put back together. The world is dark and for the first time today, quiet. 

Something nudges my cheek softly. It’s his hand. Matt kisses me and I can taste myself on his lips. “Hey,” he coaxes me back into lucidity. “There you are. Are you okay?”

I nod.

“You need anything?”

It’s a reflex, reaching for him. He gasps slightly when my hand touches between his thighs, expecting to find a visible bulge, but there is none. I’m not sure if it’s my mind playing tricks on me, but there is a visible wet spot where his dick is supposed to be. 

“Did you-“ I finally open my eyes. He looks so drunk in the candlelight. I realize then that he is drunk on me. 

He buries his head in my neck. “You’re not the only one who’s been worked up all week,” he says. 

“You just- oh, my God.” I never thought it possible that it could be enough for him. “Thank you.” 

“No, thank you. You’re always so good to me. Good girl. But I think-“ his finger steals my breath as it circles my entrance and promptly slips it inside of me. “You can cum for me again.” 

I arch into him. My chest brushes against his. Our shirts suddenly feel like too much clothing and I’m desperate, so I tear at the buttons until they come apart. He has his arm back underneath me, holding me flush against him as if he’s afraid I might slip away. 

A wanton moan escapes me. “That’s it,” and his praise is even better. “Think you can take another one?”

He adds a second finger. It burns but only because even after a year, I’m still struggling to take any part of him. His fingers are thick and they’re rough and they’re scratching my inside walls just right. They massage the flesh. He’s pumping his fingers in and out and in and out, and he adds his thumb back on my clit because he knows I won’t be able to cum without it.

All of the stress falls off my shoulders. I feel him everywhere, his kisses, his touch, his hard nipples against mine. He’s hard again, poking against my thigh. I reach for him and he whines, he whines into my mouth. I’m not sure which one of us will come first. I suppose it’s me, it’s always me. He makes sure it will be me.

He hits as deep as he possibly could. His fingers curl inside of me and then, “There it is!” Is so victorious, it makes my eyes roll back. He keeps hitting that particular spot over and over again. My hand clutches his shoulder. I want to scream, but all that comes out is a series of whined and pathetic moans. I can’t help it, my muscles contract around him. 

“Damn, you’re gonna break my fingers,” he says. His chuckle is breathless. “You close?”

I hum.

“Do me a favor,” and I expect him to tell me anything but what he requests, “Don’t cum.” 

It’s rude. It’s cruel and it’s vile and I want to murder him because just as he says it, the coil tightens impossibly tight and I need to let go. It’s painful to hold it in, especially now. But I do as he tells me nonetheless. I want to please him. 

“Matt,” I moan. He’s so unfair and he knows it.

He smirks. “Just hold on a little longer.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. I know you can.”

“St- oh, fuck!” He hits my sweet spot with twice the intensity. I almost cum, but only almost. I keep it together, no matter how much it hurts, and it’s making tears prick at my eyes. “Please, just let me cum,” I hate begging him. “Please, Matty.”

“Shhh. We’re almost there.”

His thumb speeds up. I can see heaven. God is reaching his hand out for me. My stomach is in a tight knot, so tight, the silk might rip any second. The pressure is unreal. My muscles have been trained by him, I admit, but nothing can prepare you for this. Nothing can prepare you for the times when Matt has his mind set on something and he’s going to take it. He’s going to take you. 

I can’t think. It’s too much. I know I’m going to disappoint him. The animal inside of me is beyond satisfied and she wants out. She wants to let go. She loves the feeling of his fingers buried to the hilt inside of her. She loves him, and loving him tends to turn into sweet, sweet torture.

I moan his name again. His cock twitches underneath his dress pants, hot against my fingertips. 

“Almost,” he promises. “I just want to try something.”

What could he possibly want to-

“Cum.”

I’m flying. My back lifts off the couch and if it wasn’t for him, I would be dead by now. My body is shaking. It’s earth-shattering and it’s wet and it’s everywhere. I can feel the orgasm tearing me apart from the inside, blood rushing in my ears. My senses go black. I can’t see, feel or breathe. Everything is too much. It’s burning, it’s heavy, but it’s amazing.

His fingers don’t stop until he has milked the last drop of me until even the last ounce of stress has left my body and I’m limp. I’m a corpse. I’m barely breathing, a wet sack of potatoes in his arms. 

God, the look on his face. He’s cumming too. The wet patch on his pants has doubled. It’s not from me, although I’m suddenly very aware of the fact of what he just made me do.

“Oh.”

“Fuck,” he growls. “That was amazing.”

I never expected to have it in myself. “Oh, Jesus.” My words are highly blasphemous but I don’t care. I’m not even sure how to feel. The blush creeps up my cheeks and I close my legs a little. Everything is so wet. It’s all me and some of him, but mostly me. Just spurts of cum all over his hand and his couch.

He clicks his tongue, shoving my thighs apart. “Don’t go shy on me now,” he says.

“No, it’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? Sweetheart, I’ve never felt more proud of myself.”

“I just- your couch. Oh, God.”

“I’m pretty sure the couch will survive it. Leather is easier to clean. How do you feel?”

I sigh, snuggling against his chest. “Better,” I have to admit. “Much, much better.”

“Good.” He kisses my neck. “Can I have my fingers back now?”

“No.” I like the feeling of him inside of me, even if it’s just his fingers. It makes me feel complete, almost. 

“Okay.” 

“Just gonna rest my eyes now.”

“You do that, sweetie. I’ll be here.” 

And he is. He always is. I wake up, and he’s there, and he always will be because he promised me this is forever. Us. Me and him. And I realize then that I’ve never been more in love with another person than I am in love with Matt Murdock.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x afab!reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil smut #smut #fluff #matt murdock angst #hurt/comfort #stress relief #I hate customer service with a passion #I also hate retail #I hate work in general #Matt Murdock rail me challenge

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Light the Way - Part One

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Angst, date rape/roofies, slight BDSM Word count: ~4k Series masterlist

Chapter summary: Starting a new job is never easy, it's even worse when your boss is an arsehole. When he unexpectedly comes to the rescue though, the relationship dynamic changes drastically.

She graduated from university a year ago with a Bachelor’s degree in PR and Marketing, and still has no idea what she wants from life, although the last twelve months of working as a barista have proven to her that a career in hospitality and customer service is definitely not it. Having happened across an online advertisement of a vacancy for the position of a personal assistant at a private law firm, she applied on a whim, never expecting to hear back. It’s not like she was qualified anyway, so she had nothing to lose

Yet, here she is, almost four weeks later, standing in the foyer of Red Keep Legal, preparing to begin her first day. The office building is sleek and modern, minimalist in decor, yet the polish of everything suggests it is incomprehensibly expensive. A handsome, bearded, older man, dressed in a sharp suit collects her from reception. She learns his name is Otto Hightower and he is a partner at the firm. They are high end solicitors and only take on the most exclusive of clients. She turns his business card over in her hands, the thickness of the smooth, matte black cardstock is high quality, with ornate golden lettering and a blood red logo of a three headed dragon. She knows she has seen that logo before, but can’t place where exactly.

“You’ll be a personal assistant to my grandson, Aemond.” Otto tells her. “He’s working on a particularly tricky case at the moment, so you’ll be responsible for ensuring he has everything he needs. I imagine he won’t ask you to do much more than get him coffee.” 

So there it was, the reason she’d gotten the job. She was hoping her coffee making days were behind her, but no such luck. She sighs inwardly, the bitter irony is almost comical.

“Anyway, if you have no further questions, I shall introduce you to Aemond.” Otto concludes.

She smiles and nods politely as he turns on his heel and leads her towards the elevator, stopping on the second to last floor. She follows him along a marble floored corridor, before he gently raps his knuckles against the rich mahogany of an office door. After a few moments the door swings open to reveal the most ethereal being she’d ever laid eyes upon. He is impossibly tall without being gangly or awkward; his long, lithe limbs flow like water as he props himself against the doorframe. His silky, silver locks are perfectly coiffed and she feels self conscious as the bright blue of his right eye scans all the way from her feet to the top of her head, analysing every inch. She notices the skin around his left eye is lightly scarred - the only indication that the realistic prosthetic that sits within the socket isn’t something he can actually see out of. The simple long sleeved top and black trousers she’s wearing suddenly feel drab in comparison to the well tailored navy blue suit he wears, and she fights the urge to hide herself. 

“Aemond, this is your new personal assistant.” Otto informs him, gesturing towards her. “Your mother and I worked hard to find this one, so perhaps you could try being a little more cordial than last time.”

She doesn’t stop to think about what that could possibly mean, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in and rushing forward, smiling wide and extending a hand. 

“Hi Aemond! It’s wonderful to meet you!” 

His plush, full lips remain unmoving, as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, not returning the gesture and continuing to study her. 

She drops her hand, feeling deflated and laughs nervously.

Clearly not picking up on the awkwardness, or simply not caring, Otto glances between the two of them, before giving a curt nod and striding back towards the elevator.

Aemond watches him go before returning his attention back to her. 

“Wonderful to meet me, hm?” he finally says, quirking an eyebrow. 

Before she can respond, he continues, “Look, I’ve told my grandfather I don’t need an assistant and I like my own space. I’m looking over some contracts at the moment, so I would prefer it if you could make yourself scarce.” He disappears from view, allowing his office door to close behind him.

She immediately feels miserable. Her shoulders slump as she stands in front of the closed door. The first day of a new job should feel exciting, especially when your boss is so breathtakingly handsome, but this guy is rude and has declared her useless within minutes of meeting her. For a moment she considers just walking out and not returning.

She spends the remainder of the day sitting at her desk that’s positioned to the outer left of Aemond’s door. No one goes in or out, and not once does she catch sight of him. As far as first days go this is undoubtedly the worst she has ever experienced. As tempting as it is to just bail and head home, she desperately needs the cash, so she watches the hours slowly tick by on the off chance her stand-offish boss may suddenly decide he needs something. By the time 6pm rolls around, and she stands to gather her things, her legs have cramped from sitting for so long and she curses herself for only stretching her legs on the few occasions she went to the bathroom.

Arriving home, she finds her flatmate isn’t back yet and breathes a sigh of relief, knowing she’d be bombarded with questions about her first day and not have a positive answer for any of them. She uses the opportunity to pace the flat, rifling through the contact sheet and paperwork she has been given. She sighs when she happens upon the number listed for Aemond - what was the point of having the number of someone who seemingly wanted nothing to do with her? She saves it to her phone anyway, tomorrow was a new day after all. Perhaps she’ll score a few brownie points if she texts and offers to grab him coffee on her way to the office. She still can’t figure out why he’d been so cold towards her. Flopping down on the couch with a glass of wine, she boots up her laptop, deciding to do some research on Aemond Targaryen, as she realises that beyond meeting him today and knowing he works for one of the most prestigious law firms in all of Westeros, she really knows nothing about the man she is supposed to be working for.

She wakes up early the next morning, armed with a plan. Her evening of wine-fuelled research had been fruitful. She’d discovered that Aemond was from a family of famous Valyrian legal, political and business figures. Her recognition of the logo on Otto’s card was because it was regularly splashed across all of the major tabloid and broadsheet newspapers. She’d read through a few old articles regarding family drama, disputes over assets, and the death of his father to get an idea of who he was, before deciding his cold demeanour is likely attributed to the combined stress of his job and seemingly endless rifts between his mother and half-sister. She decides that if she is to break down his walls then she will do so with kindness, but she also wants to look the part - if she is to fit in with such sophisticated people then she needs to start dressing like one. She slips into a pencil skirt so fitted it looks like it has been painted on, alongside a sheer white blouse and a killer pair of black stilettos. She completes the look with perfectly styled hair and a thick coat of blood red lipstick. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t vying for more than Aemond’s professional attention, but she’d try anything at this point just to get him to acknowledge her presence. Giving herself a last once over look in the mirror, she fires off what she considers to be a breezy good morning text to Aemond, before heading to the coffee shop she used to work at. “Good morning Mr. Targaryen! Hope you’re well today. I’ll grab you a coffee on my way to the office. See you soon!”

Arriving exactly thirty minutes later, coffees in hand, she is disappointed to see that she’s been left on read. Nevermind. She has gone all out with the coffee order, asking for the special roast of beans with an extra shot and foamed milk. This was sure to win him over. She knocks timidly at his office door and after a long moment is about to knock again when it swings slowly open with a perfectly poised Aemond on the other side. God, he was breathtaking.

She realises she has gone too long without saying anything when he snaps out an impatient “Yes?” She jumps slightly, stepping forward into his office without an invitation. Aemond cautiously backs away, his brow furrowing with suspicion and confusion.

She thrusts one of the cups towards him, “Umm…I text you. Did you - uh - coffee?” Great, now I’ve lost the fucking power of speech.

Aemond gingerly accepts the cup from her, without saying thank you. “Are you always this articulate?” He says flatly, before taking a sip. His nose instantly wrinkles, “Ugh, does this have milk in it? I’m allergic to dairy."

Her eyes widen in horror, "Oh gods,, I’m so sorry! I should have thought to ask, I can always get you-"

"Forget it.” He cuts her off, “That will be all for the day, before you try to poison me any further. Close the door on your way out.”

Fantastic, another day sat at my desk, except this time I’m dressed like a cheap escort. 

The confidence she’d felt when she stepped out of the door this morning had been crushed flat by Aemond in a matter of seconds. She sits with her hands clasped tightly in front of her on the desk, willing her unshed tears away. Did he want her to quit? She’d placed everything on this job and she didn’t want to give it up without a fight. Sje simply couldn’t understand why Aemond seemed to hate her so much.

After a few hours pass by, she notices it is lunch time - he has to take a break some time. She decides that now is when she’ll make her move. Standing purposefully, she sniffs back her tears and checks her make-up in her compact mirror, before strutting back towards Aemond’s door. She’ll give that arsehole a piece of her mind. It was about time he learned to respect her.

She bursts into Aemond’s office without knocking. “Just who in the hell do you think you are?!” she rants, not waiting for his reaction to her sudden intrusion.

He looks up from the documents he has been reading and stares at her, but his expression is unreadable.

He stays silent, so she continues her tirade. “I didn’t have a fucking clue who you were when I accepted this job, despite that I’ve treated you with nothing but respect and you can’t even extend me the same courtesy!” She paces as she yells at him, gesticulating wildly. There’s a part of her telling her to stop, that this behaviour will likely get her fired, but at this point it would have been like attempting to put toothpaste back in the tube. “I know you think you’re hot shit, but that doesn’t exempt you from behaving like a decent human being.” She stops and looks at him then, his face still a mask of neutrality as he gazes up at her from his seat at the desk. “Why aren’t you saying anything?!” She demands.

“Oh, are you done?” He replies sarcastically.

She throws her hands up in exasperation, eliciting a huge sigh at his complete lack of emotion. 

Accepting her reaction as affirmation, he diverts his attention back to his paperwork and mutters “Well, if that’s all, you know where the door is.”

It takes all of her willpower not to grab the nearest object and launch it towards his head. She storms outside, slamming the door as she goes. Fuck this. Walking purposefully straight to the elevator, she lets it take her to the ground floor before hastily exiting the office building. There was absolutely no way she was spending another second in this godforsaken building.

Arriving home she throws her keys a little too aggressively onto the kitchen counter and heads straight towards the fridge, grabbing for the can of whipped cream. As she loudly squirts an unhealthy sized swirl of it into her mouth, her flatmate, Rhea, looks up from her laptop with an amused smile and asks “Rough morning?”

She hadn’t noticed her sitting at the dining table, too engrossed in her own foul mood to have any awareness of her surroundings. “Think I lost my job.” She slurs without bothering to swallow.

Rhea closes the lid of her laptop and rushes to pull her into a bear hug. Finally releasing her, she smiles kindly and wipes cream from her chin, before saying “First of all, you’re gross, and second, how has that happened? You’ve been there less than 48 hours!”

“It’s a long story.” She sighs, “The short version is that my boss is an arsehole, so I yelled at him and then left the office.”

“Oh.” Rhea winces, “That’s bad.”

“What the fuck am I going to do?!” She whines, rubbing her temples.

“Well, it might not solve your impending unemployment, but we could go out tonight?”

“Are you high right now, Rhea?! The only thing I’ll be doing tonight is looking at the classifieds!”

“Come on, you were miserable for so long in your last job and don’t seem to be faring much better in this one. You deserve a little fun!”

“I dunno…”

“I’m not taking no for an answer! I’m working from home today, so having a reason to leave the flat later will keep me sane. Plus you don’t even need to get changed - you are wearing that outfit!”

“Fine. I guess one drink couldn’t hurt.”

Rhea squeals with excitement, clapping her hands. “Amazing! Now be a doll and fuck off until 7pm, I have to concentrate.”

Rhea returns to her laptop while she retreats to her room, wondering if there will ever be a point this week where she isn’t being told to go away by someone.

The bar they end up at later that evening is loud and overcrowded. Despite that, she can feel herself relaxing. Perhaps it was the second white wine she was sipping or the steady beat of the music causing her to sway your hips involuntarily, but for the first time in two days she wasn't thinking about Aemond. She sighs contentedly, draining her glass and flashing Rhea a toothy grin as she pushes through the crowd with their next round of drinks. 

“Having fun?” Rhea half shouts over the cacophony of noise. 

Nodding, she grabs her hand, dragging her towards the dance floor. She chugs her drink as they both move to the rhythm of the song playing. She feels woozy and attributes it to drinking too much wine too fast.

“You want water?” She shouts to Rhea, making a drinking motion with her hand. Rhea nods gratefully and she staggers her way to the bar. She can feel her vision shifting in and out of focus and getting her legs to work the way she wants them to is proving difficult. Changing course, she heads outside, deciding a few lungfuls of fresh air will help set her straight.

As she slides down the brick exterior of the building she barely notices the dark figure that has followed her outside. “Easy.” A gruff male voice says, though in her mind it sounds far away, “Just relax.” Rough hands paw at her as her head flops around on a neck that feels boneless.

“Get the fuck off her.” She hears a familiar voice snarl demandingly. The man is gone in a flash and replaced instead by someone crouching in front of her, cupping her cheeks and coaxing her to look up into a concerned blue eye.

“Aemond?” She slurs.

“Keep looking at me.” Aemond says, cradling her head, “I’m fairly certain that that prick spiked your drink. I’m going to make sure you get home safely, but you need to stay awake, okay?”

Her eyes are glassy and Aemond blurs and duplicates in her vision as he keeps her face tilted up towards him. “Rhea.” She mumbles groggily.

As if summoned by the utterance of her name, her room mate pushes her way out of the bar, phone in hand, looking left and right. When she finally catches sight of her slumped on the ground with a man crouching over her, she shrieks and runs towards her. “What are you doing to her?!”

“Helping her.” Aemond replies flatly, without looking away from her. “Pretty sure she’s been spiked.”

“Jesus!” Rhea squeals, kneeling at her side, before finally looking over at Aemond. “Holy shit! You’re Aemond Targaryen! Your uncle is so hot!”

Aemond rolls his eye, hooking his arms around the body of the semi-conscious woman in front of him and slowly lifting her to her feet.

“Should we call the police?” Rhea asks, slowly realising the gravity of the situation.

Aemond turns to stare at her. “It will take an hour for them to get here.” He explains. “And when they do they’ll just file a report which they’ll never follow up on. Our time is better spent getting her home, so she’s at least safe. I’m assuming you know where she lives?”

Rhea nods. “We’re flatmates.”

Aemond momentarily supports her weight with a single arm as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and passes it to Rhea. “Order an Uber”.

“Thanks for helping her.” Rhea says, as the Uber finally pulls up to the curb. They waited in total silence and any excitement Rhea had felt at having met Aemond was rapidly dissipating into awkward discomfort. “I can look after her from here.” She moves to take her from the supporting hold he has on her.

“Because you’ve done such an incredible job of that so far.” He retorts icily. “I’m coming with you.”

He maneuveres her limp form into the back of the car as Rhea makes her way around to the other side to sit next to her. She is surprised to see Aemond fold his tall frame into the backseat beside her, fully expecting him to ride shotgun. The drive back is tense and uncomfortable. She sits unconscious, sandwiched between the two of them, her heading lolling against Aemond’s shoulder.

“So…” Rhea begins, attempting to break the silence, “You’re the arsehole boss then?”

It was intended as a joke, but Aemond’s humourless chuckle instantly makes her cheeks burn at having said something so rude. “Is it true you’re going to fire her?”

Aemond seems surprised at that. “No,” He says simply. “I won’t expect to see her in the office tomorrow, she’ll need a day to recover, but tell her to be there at 9am sharp on Thursday. And I take my coffee black.”

“Sure.” Rhea smiles meekly. By this point, the Uber has pulled up to its destination. “Would you like to uh…?” She asks, gesturing towards the block of flats.

“No, I think you’ll be fine from here.” He responds, “Goodnight.”

With that, Rhea is left to help her out of the car, which pulls away as soon as she's closed the door.

The next day she awakens with no memory of the evening before, feeling like she has the mother of all hangovers. She swears loudly as she looks at the time and realises it’s almost midday. If she wasn’t fired before, she certainly was now.

Hearing she is awake, Rhea sweeps into the room with a tall glass of water for her. She fills her in on the details of the previous evening and she listens in stunned silence. She spends the rest of the day in bed, struggling to process what has happened to her and the fact that a man she’d assumed hated her had come so valiantly to her rescue.

Thursday morning rolls around quickly and she dresses simply in black trousers and a sensible cardigan. She heads to grab Aemond his morning coffee; black coffee. No sooner had she deposited the cup into his hand had apologies begun tumbling from her lips, saying sorry for how she’d spoken to him, sorry for storming off, sorry for him having to look after her. He cuts her off, sliding a sheet of paper towards her.

“This,” He begins, “Is a list of things I need you to do for me today. Think you can handle it?”

She nods, stunned at finally being asked to help him out.

“Perfect. See you later.”

The day passes in a blur and she struggles. This is the first day she’s actually performing the job she has been hired to do and the busy, demanding nature of a prestigious law firm was worlds apart from the past two days of sitting at her desk and sulking. She gets lost trying to deliver documents to various people’s offices, forgets to seal contracts in confidential envelopes and accidentally hangs up on no less than five clients while trying to transfer their calls. It is a complete disaster.

She sits, highlighting every instance of the word “Harrenhal” in a document, feeling totally overwhelmed. How could anyone manage to be so bad at a relatively simple job?! The truth was, she kept finding herself distracted, thinking about what had happened to her two nights ago. What would have happened if Aemond hadn’t shown up? She caps the highlighter pen, resting her head in her hands and fails to suppress a sob.

Hearing his office door open, she turns to face Aemond as he exits, attempting to compose herself, but knows he has likely already seen her crying. “Sorry.” She whispers. “I’m just having a bad day. Ignore me.” She sniffles and wipes her eyes.

Silently Aemond beckons her into his office, maintaining eye contact as he does so.

She follows obediently, dread gnawing at her insides, certain he’s going to fire her.

 “Kneel.” He quietly commands, once the door is closed behind them.

“What?!” Her eyes widen in shock.

“Trust me, you need this. Kneel.” He insists.

She does as she is told, kneeling before him, gazing up at his impossibly tall frame with curiosity.

He slowly reaches out a hand, fingers gently grazing her jawline, before running a thumb over her lips. He pushes gently, parting them and meeting the resistance of her teeth. “Open”.

This time she doesn’t question his request, silently accepting the alien intrusion of Aemond’s thumb into her mouth. Instinctively she feels herself sucking on the digit and gradually relaxes. The sensation sends a throb of arousal straight to her core. She’d never experienced anything like this before, but seeing him tower over her, offering his thumb for her to suck was strangely erotic.

“Better?” He asks.

She simply nods, doe-eyed and staring at him in awe.

“Good.” He smiles slightly, stooping down until his lips are ghosting the shell of her ear. It makes her shiver. “I much preferred Tuesday’s outfit, by the way. Maybe that can make a reappearance tomorrow?”

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #pro aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #modern aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen angst #hotd #hotd smut #hotd angst #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fan fic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fic

[ithebookhoarder]

A Whole Latte Love to Give 🍁 (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Description: You hate running late to work as it means you don't have time to stop for coffee - and what's worse, it's your favourite coffee season too.

A/N: It's Autumn and I'm a coffee addict so this felt right 😅 In fact, if anyone brings me coffee in the morning they are automatically my favourite for life 💕

Warnings: Swearing, references to smut, I think that's it.

Masterlist

You hated running late. 

It was frustrating and meant you had to sprint to make sure you made it to the subway on time to get across town to your office. You’d also then end up arriving with your hair all over the place, out of breath, and normally dripping with an uncomfortable amount of sweat. 

That alone would have been bad but when your boyfriend/boss had the super nose of a blood hound, it actually made you want to curl up into a ball and melt into the carpet. 

Needless to say, you were having one of those days today. The alarm hadn’t gone off and you had barely had enough time to put a comb through your hair, let alone grab some form of breakfast, or more importantly, coffee. 

You were embarrassed to admit how heavily you’d come to rely on the caffeinated beverage but honestly? It was all that kept you running most days. Besides, this was New York. People here were used to drinking it like it was water - which is to say you were struggling by the time you made it up the stairs to Nelson & Murdock. Worse still was the fact that you’d passed your favourite coffee shop on the corner as you’d sprinted to make it to your first meeting of the day. 

The bright fall leaves glued in the window were mocking you as they declared the arrival of the season and with it, their drinks menu - including your favourite drink of all time: a pumpkin spice latte.

Yeah, that particularly stung as you had to physically drag yourself away, knowing you didn’t have the time. Damn it. 

You’d have to wait til lunch to treat yourself and mark a start to your favourite season - a thought that had you grumbling to yourself as you finally made it up the stairs and to your office. 

Thankfully, it was quiet when you pushed the door open and managed to drop your bag at your desk. No clients were sat waiting for you, ready to berate you for clocking in a whole five minutes late, which was a huge relief. 

In fact, the only other person who appeared to be in the office at all was Matt - and even he seemed to have only just arrived, given the fact he hadn’t even taken off his coat yet. How strange. Normally he’d have been here a good twenty minutes or so already, having barely stopped long enough at his apartment for a quick power nap. 

Maybe he was also running late this morning?

“Morning, Matt,” you sighed, by way of greeting. “Sorry, my stupid phone didn’t charge last night so I missed my alarm. I only woke up because the asshole builders outside my place decided to start construction a whole hour earlier than normal, which is a pain but kinda saved my ass in the end. I mean, thanks to them I at least had time to brush my teeth but that was it if I was going to make the subway- Oh!“ 

You stopped. 

You stared down at your desk, surprised to see the steaming plastic cup sitting waiting for you. You were even more surprised to see your name scribbled on top, as well as your order printed on the side: a large Pumpkin Spice Latte. 

“Is this for me?” you blinked, turning your gaze across the room. “You got me coffee?” 

“I figured you wouldn’t have time,” Matt shrugged, in true Matt fashion. He always underplayed it whenever he did something for you. He never saw it as a big deal, whether it was taking a bullet for you or just grabbing your dry-cleaning. “You’re always in before I am unless you’re alarm fails to go off so… I grabbed you a coffee when I grabbed myself one. Don’t worry about it.” 

“But … you got my favourite? You remembered?” 

Matt laughed, holding his hand over his chest as he gasped in mock hurt. “Your surprise wounds me, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, hush. It takes more than that to hurt the big bad Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, Matty.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. You’re kind of my weak spot.” 

His admission tugged at your heart and it was hard to hide the resulting grin, especially when he followed the words by stealing a kiss and pulling you into his arms. 

This was always the best part of your morning routine, stealing a moment together before Foggy and Karen arrived. Just a perfect moment of peace, where nothing else existed other than the two of you. It was as if the world had stopped, just for a second, and there was no crazy crime bosses trying to kill you both, bills to pay, or clients in need of your help. 

You were simply two people in love, starting another day at work with a cup of coffee. 

“Have I told you today that you’re the best?” you hummed.

“Not today, I don’t think.” 

“Well then, I’m telling you now. You’re my hero - my coffee grabbing hero.” 

“At your service,” Matt chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But, you do know there’s an easier solution to this, right? One that would cut your commute in half and allow you ample time to get coffee in the morning?”

“Oh, what’s that? Super speed? Or are you going to show me how to parkour my way across rooftops?” 

“Actually… I was thinking you could move in with me?”

You stopped. 

Your head lifted so you could look him right in the eye. For a second you couldn’t tell if you’d misheard him or even just imagined it. “Are - are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he teased, his nerves showing as he waited for your answer. “Which is incidentally what you’ll have if you keep on drinking nothing but coffee all the time.” 

“You are such a hypocrite, Murdock-”

“So what? That a deal breaker?” 

“No,” you gasped, meaning every word. It was true. There was no force on earth that could drive you away from the man you were blessed to call your own. “I think, that actually sounds like a pretty good idea to me.”

“Wait, is that a yes?”

“Yes, Matt. It’s a yes.”  

It was about a week later that you finally made the move a reality. 

You spent the Saturday, assisted by a giddy Foggy and Karen, moving your boxes up the flights of stairs to Matt's apartment. They were only too eager to facilitate the pair of you finally moving in together (a fact proven by the fact you caught Foggy handing Karen a $50 bill. She had apparently bet you'd move in together before the end of the year).

"I had you down for six months ago," Foggy had grumbled, rolling his eyes at Karen's triumphant cheers. "Not my fault you two move at the pace of a glacier."

Still, you knew he was only joking. He was second only to Matt in his enthusiasm, helping move your worldly belongings about the apartment that was now also your home.

"I'm just going to run down and grab the last box from the van," you called, stepping out into the hallway and leaving the three of them to it.

However, you'd only made it a step when you heard someone calling your name.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

You turned and smiled at the kindly elderly woman who you knew to be Matt's closest neighbour. "Hi there, Mrs Manning."

You'd run into her a few times since you and Matt had started dating. She was a kind old soul who had been widowed sometime last year. Now, it was just her and her cat Tigger who resided in their apartment - and she had a real soft spot for your boyfriend.

"You doing ok?"

"Fine, thank you, dear," she smiled, gesturing to the few cardboard boxes still sat by the front door. "Those yours?"

"Uh, yes," you nodded awkwardly, sliding your hands into your pockets, “I’m actually moving in.”

"Well, finally. It was about time," she teased, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Now I can have you both over for dinner. It'll be nice for me and for that darling boy in there to have some company. He always spends too much time alone. I swear, he is wasting away - never any meat on those bones of his."

"We'd love to come to dinner," Matt answered smoothly, opening the door and popping his head out with a stealth you still couldn't get used to. He must have heard you talking from the other side of the door. "And don't worry, Mrs Manning, we'll both take good care of each other."

"Good good - and don't worry, I'll have my music playing nice and loud for most of the night so make all the noise you need," she teased, winking cheekily at the pair of you before turning back towards her apartment.

You and Matt were left standing there, speechless.

"I'll see you lovebirds later."

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #marvel #marvel x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #marvel daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil #marvel imagines #charlie cox #foggy nelson #karen page #fluff #flufftober

[anna-hawk]

Good Boy

Frank Castle x Matt Murdock

Summary: Frank loves giving Matt nicknames and wonders which one he likes best. There's one that Matt definitely likes particularly much.

Explicit 🔞 • WC: 2,7k

Tags and warnings: smut, light Dom/sub undertones, praise kink, pet names, come eating + sharing, bj

A/N: Based on this small comic. The second I saw it, I knew I needed to put it in writing and give it an end. I really hope you like it @kuriusagiart. Thank you for allowing me to write for you 🧡

Read it on AO3

As soon as he was through his apartment door, Matt heaved a giant sigh of relief at being back home after a long, very long day. The days had gradually gotten warmer, which did nothing for the fact that he had to wear a suit to work. Whichever suit or work it might be, too. He put the jacket that he’d been carrying over his arm on a coat hanger next to the entrance door and untied the already loose knot of his tie until he could take it off. While he walked further into the apartment and towards the bedroom, the entrance door closed before heavy footsteps sounded from behind him. Inside the bedroom, Matt put the tie on a dresser, where Frank joined him without a word and pressed his chest to Matt’s back. It always amazed Matt how much Frank seemed to need to touch Matt after a tiring day, trying to get to skin as quick as possible. Frank never let anything on outside, but as soon as they were out of the public eye, he was all up in Matt’s personal space. Not that Matt could complain, as he smiled to himself when barely a second later, Frank slid his hands under Matt’s arms to reach for the buttons of his shirt, his lips mouthing over the back of Matt’s neck. 

“Frank, you’re gonna ruin my shirt,” Matt grumbled at the hurried way Frank was dealing with the buttons, the threads holding on for dear life under his rough fingers. 

The only downside to all of it was that a few of his dress shirts had suffered from Frank’s hastiness; buttons flying, a rip there. 

“Altar boy,” Frank grunted back, not stopping his assault on the shirt whatsoever and instead lifting it over Matt’s stomach to get to the last buttons. 

While Matt undid his pants at a slower pace, he rolled his eyes good-naturedly at Frank’s use of that nickname. 

“You are such a nickname freak.”  

Frank snorted. An instant later, Matt could feel the grin against the side of his neck.

“What’s your favorite?” Frank wondered after uttering a satisfied sound at finally getting Matt’s shirt fully open and pulling at it to expose more of Matt’s neck to him. “Choir boy?” He kissed his way along Matt’s shoulder as he tugged a bit more at the shirt to pull it down one arm now. 

Matt didn’t reply and instead turned his head to the side to give Frank more access to his skin, which rose with each of Frank’s touches. 

“Red?” Frank continued without missing a beat, while keeping his attention on Matt’s neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of small marks over it. 

Again, Matt chose to ignore him in favor of enjoying what Frank was doing with his mouth and hands. 

“Babe?” Frank intoned with an audible smirk now, the term getting a grimace of disgust out of Matt. “Sweetie?” 

This time, Matt had had enough. 

“Ah, shut up. Ew!” he groaned on a shudder, and pushed Frank’s face away from him with a hand against the man’s cheek. 

Frank laughed heartily, the sound vibrating against Matt’s hand and through his body before he caught Matt’s wrist. There was a sudden shift in Frank’s whole body language, as well as in the rhythm of his heartbeat and breathing, which had Matt stilling as a shiver ran through him. 

“Or…” Frank drew out the word as he gently tugged at Matt’s wrist, his voice lowering a few octaves before he slowly licked his way between two of Matt’s fingers, teasing at the center, which got a small gasp out of Matt. “Good boy,” Frank rasped in a low and gravelly voice, right against Matt’s cheek and ear as he wrapped his arms around Matt’s chest.

The name hit Matt like a ball of heat that spread through his whole body and located itself in his chest and groin. He felt his face heating, while his mouth went slack and let a soft moan escape. Until Frank had called him that for the first time, Matt never would have believed that he could respond that way to being called that particular pet name. Or the idea that he could crave the satisfaction of being good for someone, being praised. The first time Frank had called him that, Matt had felt deeply embarrassed by his reaction, coming so hard that night that he’d gone dizzy with it. Frank’s own reaction to how Matt had responded had been enough to soothe that feeling, however. He’d come just as hard as Matt, a feeling of surprise and awe rushing over to Matt from the other man. They hadn’t gone down that path anymore, until tonight, but Matt had known that first night that this only worked for him because it had been Frank.   

Frank made a pleased sound and curled his fingers under Matt’s chin to bring his face towards his. Using his thumb, Frank rubbed along Matt’s bottom lip and slightly pulled it down. 

“Yeah?” Frank whispered against Matt’s lips. “Wanna be a good boy?” he continued, and slid his other hand down to slip it inside Matt’s boxers. 

Matt’s entire body jerked at the feeling of Frank’s warm and callused fingers wrapping around his length, which had gone from interested in the proceedings to fully hard at Frank’s last pet name. He moaned as Frank pulled him out of his boxers to give him a few perfunctory pumps.

“Please,” he sighed, and parted his lips further to let Frank’s thumb into his mouth. 

Frank groaned deeply as Matt sucked and nipped at his thumb, his own cock pressing more insistently against Matt’s ass. 

“Only got started, and you’re already beggin’?” Frank hummed appreciatively, swirling his other thumb over Matt’s slit that was starting to leak pre-come. “Gonna make it real good for ya.”

Matt’s hips bucked forward as Frank tightened his fist and twisted it over the head to coat his palm with Matt’s pre-come, before sliding back down all the way to the base. Matt had to reach for Frank’s thighs to anchor himself as Frank began jerking him off with a rhythm that only quickened with each downward stroke. He tilted his head back over Frank’s shoulder as he gasped and moaned, his hips twitching and thrusting forward on each particularly sharp pass over the sensitive head. 

“Not gonna hold out long, huh?” Frank rumbled against Matt’s throat that he was kissing and sucking on anew, while his other hand kept Matt’s body steady against his own, the palm resting over Matt’s chest.  

He certainly knew Matt’s body and its tells perfectly, since Matt was indeed only a few strokes away from coming. Nodding jerkily with a tiny whine as his breaths came at a quicker speed, Matt’s grip on Frank’s jeans tightened as his orgasm began to rise, his whole body going slowly taught in anticipation. 

That's when Frank took his hand away. 

Matt's entire body pitched forward at the sudden lack of contact on his cock, the delicious tightness gone. 

“Frank!” he gasped, as out of breath as if he'd run a marathon, his fingers scrabbling at Frank's arm over his chest in despair. “Please, don't — I — please.” He had a hard time focusing on his words, Frank's earlier use of the pet name and his need to come taking up his every thought. “You said — you said you'd make it good. You said-”

He cried out hoarsely as Frank's fingers abruptly returned to his cock, even his heightened senses having not warned him of the impending contact. Matt went up on his toes for a brief moment as his head flew back over Frank's shoulder, his fingers digging into Frank's arm as Frank's hand flew over his length. 

“Sh, sh, 'm sorry… Just couldn’t help myself,” Frank admitted in a rough voice right against Matt's ear. “Needed to hear you beg again… Fuckin' beautiful when you let go, Red.” He thrust his hips against Matt's ass, letting Matt feel the way Frank’s cock was straining against the fly, as well as smelling Frank's own pre-come through the barriers of fabric. “But you can come now. Been so good for me… Such a good boy for me.”

Between the wild pulls on his cock, the scent of Frank and the heat of his body taking over Matt’s every sense, the use of those two words again had Matt suddenly flying over the edge with a loud shout of bliss. His cock spurted long lines of pearlescent come all over the side of the dresser, until the last, weaker shots poured over Frank's fingers. 

Matt slumped against Frank’s chest as the pressure of the entire day suddenly eased off him. Grinning, probably dopily, Matt turned his face towards Frank’s with a satisfied hum, until he felt Frank’s lips meeting his. Frank chuckled into the slow kiss, and squeezed Matt’s chest lightly. Reaching down, Matt caught Frank’s wrist and pulled the hand away from his spent dick, only to bring it to his face. Ending the kiss, Matt turned his head forward again to lick over Frank’s fingers, cleaning away the traces of his own come. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Frank grunted, before he was using the hand that Matt was so carefully cleaning to grab the side of Matt’s face and turn it to him to crush their mouths together again. 

Matt groaned and turned in Frank’s embrace, opening his mouth for Frank’s insistent tongue, which was focused on getting its share of Matt’s release. The hunger in Frank’s actions had them stumbling against the dresser, Matt’s ass colliding with the wood as he caught their fall. He grinned to himself at Frank’s reaction, his senses taking in Frank’s spiking lust and rise in body heat, his dick hard against Matt’s hip. With a quick move, Matt had their positions reversed, with Frank now leaning against the dresser, his chest rising and falling quickly as he held himself up with his hands on the wood. Without another word, Matt sank to his knees in front of him and made quick work of taking care of the belt, buttons, and zipper. Even before he pulled Frank’s jeans down, Matt’s senses could make out the hot outline of Frank’s length. As soon as it was out of the confines of Frank’s clothes, Matt curled his fingers around it and leaned forward. He slowly licked and sucked over the head with the barest pressure, running the tip of his tongue along the frenulum and the slit at intervals. 

“Shit, Red,” Frank rasped, sliding the fingers of one hand through Matt’s messy hair to gently grip it. 

He might have been about to say something more, but Matt slid his mouth down to the base to suck there while he cupped Frank’s balls and stroked a thumb over them, cutting off any further words and transforming them into a long groan of pleasure. The sound reverberated through Matt, who moaned in turn at the knowledge that Frank was enjoying what Matt was doing to him. While he jerked Frank off, Matt’s mouth went further until he was tonguing and sucking at Frank’s balls. The fingers in his hair tightened, and Frank grunted as his hips bucked faintly. As Matt made his way back up to the head, Frank finally pulled Matt’s mouth away and tilted his head up. 

“Open up.” 

Matt obeyed immediately at the need in Frank’s rough voice, his jaw slackening and his mouth opening wider. A second later, Frank slowly pushed between Matt’s lips, sinking in until he barely grazed the back of Matt’s throat. Sliding back out, he did it again a few more times, until Matt moved in until Frank’s tip was pressing against his throat. He moaned throatily as he pushed forward, relishing in the small tremors of pleasure running through Frank at the stimulation, the fingers tugging at his hair, and the scent of Frank’s arousal sharping all the more. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, the way you go off on that,” Frank rumbled in awe, as he did as Matt requested and thrust in and out of his mouth while getting deeper every time. 

Matt only groaned and whined around Frank, his cock slick with Matt’s drool and making wet squelching noises each time Frank slid further down Matt’s throat. As he contracted his throat around Frank, Matt felt a rush of satisfaction at the cry of pleasure, followed by a sling of half formed curses that fell from Frank’s mouth. He moaned and redoubled his efforts as he could feel Frank getting closer, his sole focus on bringing Frank pleasure. However, Frank clearly had other ideas, since he pulled Matt off all the way by his hair but kept him close. 

“Open up,” Frank repeated, his voice having gone to its deepest timber yet. 

A shiver ran through Matt at the command and just like earlier, Matt did as he was told. He kept his hands on Frank’s thighs as he stuck his tongue out as well, giving Frank the opportunity to place the head on it as he stroked himself hard and fast. The bitter taste of new droplets of pre-come hitting his tongue had Matt groaning again, a shudder of anticipation running through him at what was to come. 

“You’re fuckin’ perfect like that, Red. Gonna take my come like the good boy you are, right?” Frank gritted out between his teeth. 

As tired as Matt might be from the long day and the very recent, spectacular orgasm he’d just had, his dick still jerked at the praise. He nodded enthusiastically and made a sound of fervent agreement, never taking his tongue away from Frank’s cock as he let his senses take in the way Frank’s body began to go rigid, how his breathing shortened and heat culminated in his groin. A few more passes of his hand over his dick later and Frank was coming, his hips jerking as he moaned and shot all over Matt’s awaiting tongue. Matt groaned at the sweet and tangy taste coating his whole tongue, not moving until he was sure he’d gotten all of it. He slid his lips around the head once Frank was done and sucked the last traces away, the act having Frank sighing and stroking his fingers through Matt’s hair. Satisfied that he’d gotten it all, Matt stood and cupped the back of Frank’s head to pull him into a kiss. Frank made a sound of surprise, as he was still reeling from his orgasm, only to wrap his arms around Matt’s back and growl into his mouth as Matt slid his still come-covered tongue along Frank’s. They only stopped kissing once every lingering taste of come was gone, and ended with their foreheads touching, breathing deeply and smiling lopsidedly. 

As Matt put a hand on the dresser to pull away from Frank, it landed right into the little puddle of come that he'd made on the furniture. He grimaced and sighed. 

“You really need to stop breaking or dirtying up my stuff, Frank,” Matt muttered with a pointed wave of his hand. It might have been Matt's come, but he blamed Frank for where it landed. 

Frank snorted. “Didn’t hear ya complain, Choir boy.” 

“Nope, not doing this again.” Matt shook his head with a roll of his eyes, but huffed out an amused laugh all the same as he cleaned his hand on the shirt he'd just taken off while he headed for the bathroom this time. 

Frank followed again with a loud laugh and caught up with him at the shower stall. 

“Nah, no need. Now I know which one’s your favorite,” he whispered into Matt’s neck. 

Despite the tiredness, a frisson of arousal still went through Matt. Frank’s voice just had this effect on him when he was using that low tone. He was still too tired for anything more, however. 

“Don’t you go wearing it out now,” he smiled with one side of his mouth pulling up, as he turned to face Frank. 

Frank chuckled and made a noise of understanding, kissing Matt briefly. 

“I can always try finding new ones you like.” 

But the way Frank said those words told Matt that Frank was about to go for another round of silly nicknames, so he pushed him away. 

“That’s it. I’m showering on my own.” 

Frank laughed, but thankfully remained quiet, which granted him access to the shower in the end.

#frank castle x matt murdock #fratt #frank castle #matt murdock #frankmatt #mattfrank #the punisher #daredevil #fratt fanfiction #fratt smut #frank caste fanfiction #matt murdock fanfiction #mes fics #inspired by fanart

[babygirlbites]

Their Reaction to the Vampire Dairies

Wolf Pack Headcannons

Can’t explain why this is so important to me, it just is….

Sam

Sam is definitely not the type to sit down and watch vampire dairies off his own accord.

That being said; Sam IS the type to want to spend every waking moment with his imprint.

The compromise being that he must deal with your favourite show being re ran every single time you face even a minor strain in your every day routine.

Sam will sit there silently, respectful enough to not grumble at your choice of viewing material but not particularly taken in by the idea of vampires being sex symbols.

He’s not a fan, but he knows you love it and he loves you, so it’s a bareable consequence.

Although I don’t think he’s particularly watching, he is definitely a team Stefan - this being the only topic he speaks up on, both surprising and assuming you when he does

It’s the Delena kiss scene at the end of season one (Damon and Kathrine, but Sam doesn’t understand the doublegagger plot yet, give him time)

“This is all wrong” he says, between mouth fulls of salty popcorn

You turn to look at him, a questioning look on your face,

“She should stick with the other one” he mutters under his breath, eyes returning to his bowl of snacks

Paul

Unlike Sam, Paul can’t HELP but get involved.

Yer okay, he gives you shit for watching a teen romance about vampires,hybrids and the like, but he literally can’t keep his mouth shut when it’s on.

He’s FAR to involved; it’s got him gasping, laughing, often shouting at the screen.

I believe Paul to be a team Damon, he’s also a klaus fan.

Special mention to his HATRED for Tyler Lockwood; which has you a little confused until you realise it’s just Paul looking in a mirror.

Maybe an emotionally agressive, reactive werewolf is a little too close to home for Paul to enjoy.

When the pack bring it up, seeing the two of you cuddled up in front of another TVD marathon, he tries to deny his enjoyment of it but is also very defensive of the fact that it’s NOT for teens

“It’s pretty spooky actually, I only watch it to keep (you) from getting scared”

It’s a lie, and they all know it.

Jacob

Jacob is similar to Paul but HEAVY on the team Damon.

Thinks he’s a Damon, he’s actually a Matt, not that you’d be the one to tell him.

He’s the kind of guy to say he’s not watching and then ask you questions through the whole thing

“So what’s his deal again?”

“Is he trying to bang her?”

“What happened to her parents”

Ect.

He’s so busy sending you tiktoks about the show he accidentally sends one to the pack group chat and it’s all either of you hear about at every meet up or bonfire for the next 6 months.

He definitely has a big crush on Elena, not as big as his crush on you of course, but a close second

Embry & Jared

Rolling these two into one because they are both unapologetic vampire dairies fans

Jared has actually already seen the whole show, and recapped it twice by now, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to watch it again with you - from start to finish.

He’s also seen the originals and legacies - Jared isn’t messing around guys, he’s a super fan.

I don’t believe Embry has seen anything TVD before you, but you suddenly realise you’ve unlocked something in him that you never expected to see.

Embry lives and BREATHES the show.

Unlike Jacob , he sends the tiktoks to the pack on purpose, hoping to get them into it too so he can talk about it when he’s on patrol.

Jared is team Stefan, Embry is team Damon - they fight (physically) about this often.

Seth and Quil

Simp simp simp

These men are both rocking team t shirts in public

Quil gives team Stefan to me but I feel he eventually will change sides with elena - by the time we get the hotel scene/kiss he’s a full fledged team Damon.

Seth is team whoever, he just loves love. He’s happy to see any of them with anyone as long as they are happy - but he does really like the Stefan redemption arc of season 3.

I feel like both the lads would be caught watching the show without you, which would lead to apologies and promises to never do it again.

Leah

Leah is a reluctant fan; like many of the others she’s not a fan of a vampire centric plot - but you’ll win her over with quality time, in bed cuddles and the Damon/Elena pipeline eventually.

Not so much a fan, but she watches it for you.

She knows you like to talk about it so she watches closely to be able to give you her educated opinion .

I feel she’s more team Damon but I KNOW she’s a Katherine apologist!

Elena tends to remind her of Bella, so she has a bit of a prejudice against the main character. Leah, as a general rule of thumb, has an issue with Mary sue type characters.

Katherine, being the anti Elena, steals Leah’s heart immediately.

There is three people in this relationship now, you will just have to accept that.

Also a fan of Rebekah!

#twilight saga #imagine #twilight #imagines #quileute #leah clearwater #embry call #quil alteara #seth clearwater #Jacob black #Sam uley #Paul lahote #jared cameron #leah clearwater x reader #embry call x reader #Leah Clearwater x y/n #Embry call x y/n #quil alteara x reader #quil alteara x y/n #Seth Clearwater x y/n #seth clearwater x reader #paul lahote x reader #Paul lahote x y/n #jacob black x reader #Jacob black x y/n #Jared Cameron x reader #Jared Cameron x y/n #sam uley x reader #Sam uley x y/n #twilight imagines

[devilfic]

Saw the previous Matt Murdock post and I can’t help but think of him as college professor dynamic???!

LIKE HOW WOULD HE BE?

❝criminal law professor!matt murdock❞

cw: law school professor matt being everyone's wet dream, brief mention of alcohol, brief suggestive content. words: 1.3k.

AHHHHHHH criminal law professor!matt who never set out to teach but got invited to a lecture held by an old lawyer friend of his and built up such good rapport with the students that when one of them came up to him after class and told him they'd sign up for any class he'd teach, the cogs started turning

only teaches one class a semester, probably one class a year

one of those professors that almost everybody wants to get in with but is prone to several dropouts after the first two weeks because of his teaching style

he's very casual most of the time but very much hands-on and will not let up on you for a second if he thinks it's a teaching moment

he's relentless. he is not an easy A but you will come out of his class better than you went in

his favorite part of the job is getting into ethical debates with the students

likes to do a lot of mock trials and very regularly stick his students with cases that test their moral judgment

it's not to make them feel bad or play at having the higher moral ground if they make a "wrong" decision, but more so to force them to consider what they're willing to compromise on to win a case

and whether winning cases is the best thing for them or for their client

he's the type of professor who will gladly stay an hour or two after class just chatting it up with students over cases he's done in the past or answering questions about practicing law professionally

he grades hard but he always offers ample feedback to make his students do better next time

has a saying that he'll never turn down a coffee from a student trying to butter him up

and immediately follows up with "it won't make me change your grade but it will help me remember your name"

this motherfucker definitely likes to sit on the edge of his desk while teaching, too

undoes his tie a bit when he gets passionate about a topic, rolls up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, has to stop himself from pacing the room without his walking stick when he feels particularly excited about a discussion

does not care about late work like at all

as long as you get it to him before the end of the semester, you'll be fine

you'll be panicking, emailing him about how you're so sorry but your laptop got stolen on your way home and that you'll have to rewrite your entire paper from scratch in the school lab tonight so it'll be a day late and you'll get a response back in 4 minutes that just says "No problem, stay safe - Sent from my iPhone"

and... your laptop is mysteriously returned a few days later. apparently whoever stole it had a serious change of heart. you also got a 98 on your paper

(he may not be swayed to change your grade with coffee but he is a bit of a softie when it comes to stuff like this)

he's also just the hottest professor on campus. do I even have to say it at this point

comes to class everyday in a nice button-up, very form-fitting trousers (none of his students have ever seen him in a pair of jeans nor will they), glasses perched on the tip of his nose, a leather messenger bag at his side that is mysteriously well-stocked with first aid supplies, and a loose red tie around his throat

do you see the vision

cancels class often because of daredevil business and treats these as days to work on papers

tries not to cut class short because of daredevil business

it actually makes him a bit sad when he has to, and so he makes it an open invitation that if students catch him out in the wild or walking around campus, they can bother him as much as they want

his TA is a little (a lot) exasperated with him but he makes up for it by buying them food. it has actually put a dent in his budget at this point but their appeasement makes it worth it

he has an office on campus but he very rarely uses it for office hours, you can pretty much find him anywhere BUT his office

he likes to meet in coffee shops or lecture halls or parks on campus because he feels like it's less daunting for students to just sit and talk out in the open

he's very popular on valentine's day

students and faculty alike will shower him with chocolates and mini bottles of wine and roses and proposals to go out for drinks sometime and he always accepts the gifts graciously

and then passes them onto his TA, karen, or foggy

although he'd be lying if he said he didn't keep some of the wine for himself

he has a strict rule against dating within the university, he'd just rather it not be awkward

now,,, a one night stand with a fellow professor maybe? no strings attached? he's not opposed to that

let's just say that tie and office are getting put to good use-

if you're a student and want a piece though, you're gonna have to wait until you've gotten your degree, sorry

he happens to like his one class a semester/year and he'd very much not like to deal with the legal repercussions of getting caught with a student. repercussions of which he is well-versed in

but alright. I mentioned that he sometimes has to cancel class because of daredevil business and so I MUST tackle the big question: does anyone suspect him

yes and no

it starts out simple. sometimes he shows up to lectures with cuts and bruises, some bandaged but fresh, and swears that it's nothing to worry about. you might catch him wearing the rare sweater on those days, even

when he gets questioned about it, he sort of spins some half-baked lie about boxing being his part-time hobby

and then people start noticing that he's never around when there's a daredevil sighting

now, he doesn't always cancel class for daredevil business. sometimes it's because he's got a client to take care of!

but he also loves to invite his students to sit in on the less serious cases so. what gives

one student starts a rumor and then it kind of becomes a joke in class that professor murdock is secretly daredevil

most of them don't take it seriously because how could their sweet, chill, blind professor murdock be a crime-fighting vigilante? it just wouldn't make sense!

and you know what this bitch does? he feeds into it

student: yeah, professor murdock is daredevil. that's a good one

matt: what do you mean?

student: oh, it's just a joke! we know you couldn't be daredevil

matt: but I am

student: hahaha that's funny

matt: no, I really am daredevil. haven't you noticed? same build, never in the same place at the same time, devilishly handsome

student: uh-huh, sure thing professor

matt: is it cause I'm blind? that's pretty insensitive, don't you think? you don't think blind people just read braille all day and get walked across the street, do you? is that what you think?

student: well I mean no but like... I mean.... uh....

matt: nahhh I'm just fucking with you. I am daredevil, though

student: hahaha for sure man, definitely

matt:

he does fly too close to the sun one day though when one of his students tries to debate him in class about it for shits and giggles and accidentally comes up with such a compelling argument for why he could definitely be daredevil that he sort of just nervously laughs and stops making jokes about it for the next four weeks

also keeps a flask in his desk drawer to pour into his mug after a rough night on patrol. but if anyone asks, no the fuck he didn't. mind your business. you have a C in his class

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

#I saw this ask and immediately got to work #please send me more matt stuff I actually really enjoy writing for him #matt murdock headcanon #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock au #matt murdock #daredevil headcanons #daredevil fluff #daredevil au #daredevil #marvel #mjwrites

[hellsburners]

Matt whimpering while giving him a hand job would make me the happiest women on this planet 😵‍💫

He loved sweatpants. Those grey cotton sweatpants that he used as workout clothes and pajamas. He would wear them so much that they were going thin in places and some small holes would form on the hems. 

He particularly loved walking around with those damn sweatpants alone. The grey-gartered hems hung low on his hip the hair near his crotch would peek through. 

He loved that they were soft on his skin, soft enough that it wouldn’t overwhelm him. That’s why when he’s at home he takes the comfort to the next level by not wearing underwear at all.

So one fateful day of the two of you on the couch, you straddled him to give him a kiss when you felt his cock harden beneath you. His eyes widened, his body tense like you struck a nerve. 

"Shit—” You chuckled. Your fingertips trace the sharp edges of his muscular form. A lone finger found its way to his hard nipples. He groaned from the touch, his mouth agape. You take it as a sign to pepper his neck with soft kisses. “Need help with this?” you said, rubbing your ass on the hard tip. 

“Please sweetheart—” he pleaded. You untied his sweatpants, pulling them to his lower thigh so as to gain access to his hard cock. It was aching and red, a bead of wetness forming on the tip. The pad of your fingers swirling around the sensitive head made him groan, his hips shuddering from the contact. 

You looked down at his cock, letting a string of spit drip on his cock. Your hands form a cylindrical grip on the hardness, stroking and teasing the tip to elicit moans. Matt told you he was never a vocal man in bed, but with you, he was the loudest. 

You started to move your hips on his lap, moving them at the same pace as your hands around his cock. A wet hand teases his nipple, lightly pinching and flicking it. You expected him to groan or grunt but he whimpered. A whimper came out of his pink lips.

“Your hands are so soft,” he coos. “Feels too good—” One hand cupped his balls, the other stroking closer to the tip where it was more sensitive. You rubbed your wet palm in circular motions on the head. Matt felt like his body would start to shake, his senses blocked out at this point, and all he could focus on was your hands on his dick. 

His hands were tight on the sofa, gripping tightly it almost tore the fabric. He wanted to bend you over and spank you, take you for his own pleasure, but he didn’t want this to end, he needed to cum from your hands alone. 

 You added more spit to your hands, your strokes becoming more sloppy from the wetness. His cock leaks precum on your hands, only adding more to the sensation on his cock. Matt bit his lips, trying to stifle his desperate whimpers. “Let them out, Matt. Let it all out for me please.”

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum,” he grunts. “Can’t keep it any longer.” He started to thrust on your hand, his hips going fast into your grip. The couch creaks from his movements, you take it up a notch by stroking even faster and gripping harder. Matt was whimpering so much, his chest heaving, his eyes rolling far back into his skull.  His body started to convulse, cum spewing to his chest, some reaching to you. You taste the cum on the corner of your lips, warm wetness all over your neck. He was a panting mess beneath you, his head fell back on the couch all spent up. You lick the cum off your lips and his chest, leaving kisses all over his overstimulated body. “Good morning Mr. Murdock,” you smiled. He let out an exasperated laugh.

inspo gif found here

(also kiinda busy week for me tried squeezing this in between my breaks i didnt even realize it would be this long lol full fics coming next week!)

#gender neutral blurb for everyone!!! #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x male reader #daredevil x male reader #matt murdock x male reader smut #daredevil x male reader smut #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x female reader smut #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #matt murdock x gender neutral reader smut

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part eighty-six: "The Moving Day"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: The day you move in with Matt has finally arrived!

Or Some strange, nervous feeling eats at you all day and then keeps you up that night.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.8k

a/n: Somehow light angst crept into this installment when I was writing it and it took me a few days to figure out why Reader was acting so strange on me and Matt, BUT I figured it out and left it in for some Sweet Matty at the end. Y'all know I love the shit out of him. So technically this is a light bit of angst with comfort at the end? Either way, I hope you enjoy Reader FINALY MOVING IN WITH MATT! Y'all that have been reading this series since back in February have been waiting months in real time just for this day to finally come!! Now it's finally here! And as always, feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @lina-mar @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle

The movers had already finished bringing all of your things up into Matt’s apartment–or rather, both of yours’ apartment as you’d often had to keep reminding yourself today–about twenty minutes ago. You knew Matt, Foggy, and Karen would be showing up from their half day at the office any minute, which was why you'd begun unpacking in the bedroom first. You didn’t particularly need your friends helping you put away your underwear and some of the other, more personal items which you had packed in your bedroom boxes. Though you certainly had a feeling Marci would only be all too happy to snoop when she showed up later after work.

Fortunately it hadn’t taken you long to put away your more private items before you’d moved on to hanging up more of your clothing in the left hand side of the closet where Matt had long ago made space for your things. On the far right neatly hung all of his suits with their braille tags on each of the hangers. Seeing more of your things hanging next to his still had you feeling inexplicably giddy, but ever since you’d left your apartment for the last time this morning and come to Matt’s, something else that you couldn’t quite place had slowly begun to take root in your mind. 

This whole situation felt surreal to you. You’d spent a long time wanting to be with Matt during your friendship after you had first met him. Through all of that time you never thought you would be good enough for him, never remotely the kind of woman who could possibly catch Matthew Murdock's attention. Not after you had seen all of the women he usually had been hit on by and those you’d seen him flirt with in return. And especially not with how charismatic, intelligent, and successful he was. You were just the awkward journalist that he’d always said made any situation highly amusing and uncomfortable in a matter of seconds. Yet here you were, hanging your skirts next to his dress slacks in the same closet. Your toothbrush sat next to his on the bathroom counter. And soon your coffee mugs and dishware would be mixed in along with his on the shelves in the kitchen. 

Because you were finally moving in with him. 

The full reality of the situation hadn’t completely hit you yet. Though you had a feeling it would later tonight, after all your friends had left and it was just you and Matt here afterwards, when all of your things were fully blended with his. Despite the excitement you felt at moving in with Matt, and with what that might mean for your relationship moving forward, there had been a nagging feeling in the back of your mind slowly growing louder as the day wore on. You knew you were going to be freaking out once the giddiness wore off and the reality settled in, but you’d tried to keep that pushed to the side as you unpacked. You didn’t have time to try to unpack that right now, too.

As you finished hanging one of your skirts on a hanger, you overheard the sound of the apartment door unlocking before it swung open. It was mere seconds before you heard Matt’s voice through the apartment.

“Sweetheart?” he called out.

Chewing your lip, your heart nervously sped up in your chest at the sound of his voice. You hung up the skirt you’d had in your hand in the closet before you turned and made your way out of the bedroom. As you maneuvered around the boxes, you could hear the loud scoff Foggy made all the way across the apartment. 

“Matt!” he complained. “You were supposed to shout ‘honey, I’m home’ when you came in!”

“Foggy, I told you I wasn't doing that,” Matt replied.

A small grin settled on your face as you listened to the three of them taking their shoes off in the entryway hall. You did your best to navigate through the messy living room where there were boxes piled everywhere as you listened to them. 

“Don’t ruin this for me, Matt!” Foggy snapped. “This is a big day for me!”

“For you?” Karen said with a laugh. “You’re not the one moving in!”

“No, but do you know how long I hoped for this day for Matt?” Foggy countered. “ Especially after learning about what he does in his free time outside of work? I never thought he’d find someone and settle down. I was afraid he’d be alone forever!”

“Thanks, Fog,” Matt said flatly.

Skirting around another stack of boxes, you heard Matt calling out your name. You laughed lightly as you overheard Karen and Foggy continuing the conversation Matt clearly wasn’t remotely interested in.

“I’m here, Matty,” you called back. “Just trying to make my way through the mess that has become your place.”

“Our place,” he immediately corrected.

“Right, yeah,” you agreed quickly. “That might take me a bit to get used to.”

You came to a stop beside the leather couch when Matt came into view at the end of the entryway hall. Grinning wide at the sight of him standing there smiling in your direction, you felt your cheeks heat. 

For some reason you felt unnecessarily nervous. You hadn’t seen Matt since yesterday morning, and because you’d spent most of this past week packing, you’d been unable to spend much time with him. You hadn’t seen him nearly as much this week as you often did, so now the sight of him was suddenly shaking loose all sorts of dormant butterflies in your stomach. Once again you were awkwardly gnawing on your bottom lip, unsure how to properly greet him in the moment–and then that was only making you further nervous.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Matt said, sliding his glasses off of his face.

Matt’s eyes lowered to your chest, a small smile playing across his lips. No doubt he was noticing the way your heart was nervously beating at the moment. You knew he always loved the way it reacted to him, but you also knew he was unaware of exactly why you were nervous this time. Granted, you weren’t entirely sure what was with your nerves, either, today.

“Hey, Matty,” you greeted back softly.

You continued to worry your bottom lip between your teeth, your hands fidgeting in front of yourself as you took in the sight of him. His suit coat was draped over one of his arms, leaving him in just his light blue dress shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up already. He looked good–like he always did–just standing there smiling at you with so much warmth and love on his face.

“For fuck’s sake– kiss her already!” Foggy shouted.

“Foggy,” Karen sharply reprimanded him.

Your cheeks only flamed further as Matt’s smile widened. Wordlessly he crossed the room, easily stepping around a box as he made his way towards you. Breath catching in your throat, you watched as he tossed his suit coat onto the back of his couch in a fluid motion before he was standing before you. Without pause his hands reached up and cradled your face in both of his palms, tilting your mouth up towards his before he dove in for a sweet, lingering kiss. When he pulled back away, smiling down at you with that absolutely breathtaking smile of his, you were left stunned and speechless.

“It was lonely here without you this week,” he whispered.

You swore your heart skipped a beat in your chest. “Well I’m–I’m here now, Matty,” you murmured.

“Great!” Foggy exclaimed, clapping his hands loudly together and causing Matt and you to jump apart. “Now let’s get started unpacking so we can get to the pizza and beer part of the day!”

______

Changing out of the jeans and tee-shirt you’d been wearing all day, you gradually got ready for bed in the bedroom. Down the hall, you could hear Matt brushing his teeth in the bathroom. You both were worn out from the excitement of the day, and you were just ready for sleep already. Between overseeing the movers, unpacking all of your things into Matt’s space, and socializing with your friends, you felt exhausted. And for some unexplainable reason there was still something that just felt off with you. There was still some nervous energy you could feel lingering inside of you that you couldn’t quite place. It had only grown stronger ever since your friends had left and Matt and you had straightened up the apartment a bit before bed.

It made no sense why you felt this way, either. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t stayed the night at Matt’s apartment countless times over the past few months now. You’d spent many nights brushing your teeth and changing your clothes getting ready for bed here, plugging your phone into the very same charger on the nightstand by your side of the bed at least a hundred times now. You knew Matt wanted you here–hell, he’d told you that at least ten times today already.

So why were you feeling that nervous, queasy feeling in your stomach? Why was the prospect of staying here tonight–and every night from here on out–giving you butterflies of a different kind all of the sudden? Why was there that nagging little voice in the back of your head still growing louder and louder despite your inability to decipher its meaning? It didn’t make sense.

“You alright?” 

Startling at Matt’s voice, you spun on the spot and found him standing in the doorway of the bedroom. His brows were drawn together on his forehead as he eyed you curiously. 

“Yeah,” you said with a nod, turning and grabbing the pair of cotton sleep shorts you had laid out on the side of the bed. “I’m just tired. It was a long day.”

“You want me to get the light for you?” he asked.

“Sure, thanks,” you replied.

As you pulled your shorts up your legs, you noticed how Matt hesitated in the doorway, just silently focused on you. It wasn’t until you grabbed your shirt from the bed next that Matt finally turned off the light before you heard him gradually making his way through the bedroom and over towards his side of the bed. 

You knew he’d already undressed before brushing his teeth, currently wearing nothing but his usual black boxers as he pulled the sheets back on his side of the bed. Normally that would elicit a reaction from your body, because knowing he was almost naked and you were about to be in bed with him, even when you were too tired for sex, made you feel something . Because he looked like one of those Greek gods chiseled from marble under his clothes and your body always unconsciously reacted to him. But tonight all you felt was that ball of nerves sitting in the pit of your stomach. It didn’t help that you figured he was probably picking up on something being off with you, too. 

Drawing the sheets back, you climbed into the bed beside Matt. Nervously you rolled onto your side to face him, soon feeling his warm hands landing on your hips over the fabric of your clothes. Grabbing you tenderly, Matt pulled you in towards his body and until you were resting with your head on his chest. He gradually settled underneath you, one arm wrapped under your waist while the other draped over the top of it. Timidly your own hand reached out as you lightly slid it across his toned, warm chest. 

“Mmm, finally,” Matt contentedly hummed out. “I spent all week missing falling asleep with you, but now I’ll always have you here with me.”

For some reason his words only caused the nerves to twist in your stomach just a bit more. You hummed out an affirmative noise in response, unable to trust your voice as you smiled softly in the dark. Internally you were trying to understand what the hell was going on with you. You’d been so excited this morning at the prospect of finally moving in with him. Excited that this move meant Matt and you were so much closer to bigger things in your relationship–like a possible engagement. 

So what the hell was with this strange, nervous feeling?

You startled when you felt Matt’s fingers gently brushing some of your hair from your face, having been too deep in your thoughts to have noticed he’d moved. You knew he’d caught that little surprised jump instantly when his fingers paused along your temple.

"Are you sure you're alright, sweetheart?" Matt asked carefully. "You've seemed unusually nervous today. Your body still seems a bit tense."

“I uhm,” you began, your index finger lightly tracing a pattern along Matt’s bare chest, “I’m just a little nervous. You know me.”

You laughed briefly, trying to make light of the situation so he would drop it. You knew how excited Matt was for you to finally be here and how long he’d been waiting for this moment. And it certainly wasn’t like you hadn’t felt the same, but you didn’t want to ruin your first night here with these weird nerves you couldn’t begin to explain. Knowing Matt, he’d feel bad and think he’d done something wrong, or that your anxious feeling was somehow because you didn’t want this or him–which was not the case. You’d never been more sure of anyone before. You knew you loved Matt.

“Okay,” he said slowly, his fingers sliding down from where they’d lingered along your temple to lovingly stroke your cheek. “But if you want to talk, you know I’m always here. You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”

You forced the smile onto your face again as you gazed up at him from your place along his chest, the rough pads of his fingers still tracing your cheekbone gently. He was so good to you and that only made you feel worse about hiding something from him, no matter how stupid it seemed. 

“I’m just tired,” you told him. “It was a long day dealing with everything with the move. I’m sure I’ll be my normal, slightly less nervous self in the morning.”

“I’ll love you however you are in the morning,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Because I love you .”

A more genuine smile slipped onto your lips, your eyes closing. “I love you, too, Matty,” you whispered back.

Silence settled in the bedroom as you felt Matt’s body relax beneath you. No doubt he was exhausted from having worked late last night, helping you unpack your things today, and then trying to relearn where some things now were in the space that had been just his for so long. You knew he’d had a long day, too.

With your eyes closed, you tried to let yourself relax and drift off to sleep. You did your best to focus on the usual faint sounds of the city a few floors below the apartment in conjunction with the steady breaths you could just barely hear coming from Matt. Despite how toned and firm Matt’s body was, you’d always found lying with your head on his chest far more comfortable than using a pillow. You weren’t sure if it was really because Matt was that comfortable or if you just loved that level of closeness and intimacy with him, though for some reason tonight you were finding yourself unable to just fall asleep. 

Without a clock, you weren’t sure how long you’d laid there awake, curled up alongside Matt trying and failing to sleep. Though it had to have been awhile because you’d long since noticed Matt had fallen asleep, the steady and rhythmic rise and fall of his chest easily cluing you in. Yet still you just couldn’t shake that nervous feeling swirling uncomfortably inside of you. The longer you tried to force sleep to come, the more awake you steadily felt yourself becoming. 

Eyes flying back open, you laid there for a moment in the dark as they tried to adjust to the near blackness in the bedroom. Gradually your head rose and fell along with each of Matt’s even breaths, but you only found yourself growing more restless next to his peaceful form. Lifting your head slowly from him, you very carefully tried to disentangle yourself from the hold he had on you without waking him. Which truthfully was a near impossible feat to accomplish– except for when he’d recently fallen into a deep sleep. Like right now.

Moving slowly, you slid towards the edge of the bed, carefully pulling the sheets from yourself  before you climbed off of the mattress. A chill ran through you at the loss of Matt’s body heat, the cold air of the apartment in comparison drawing goosebumps along your bare arms. You pulled the sheets back up on the bed and turned, quietly making your way towards the bedroom door. Cautiously you slid it open, not fully closing it all the way behind yourself afterwards before you turned and focused on the space before you. 

Now that you were out of bed, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. As you stood there trying to figure it out, your arms wrapping around your chest, you watched the light from the billboard just outside the large windows wash the space in a glow of blues and greens. After a moment you figured you could get yourself a glass of water and that might help you relax.

Making your way through the living room towards the kitchen, you came to a stop just in front of the shelf filled with cups. Both your glass cups and Matt’s were perfectly lined up side by side. On the shelf beside it, your plates and bowls were stacked neatly on top of the few that Matt already had. For a minute you just found yourself staring at them, realizing how full Matt’s normally sparse shelves looked. Glancing back over your shoulder, you spotted your television stand now situated across from Matt’s leather couch, your television sitting on top of it. The two armchairs that had always been opposite the coffee table were both now to the left of the couch, still giving Matt plenty of room to navigate from the entry hall to the living room, and from the living room to the stairs that led to the roof access. It looked different though, despite the familiar light from the billboard swathing the furniture in a myriad of colors. 

As you stood there staring at the furniture, that nauseating, nervous feeling finally fully uncoiled inside of yourself. You suddenly understood what had been gnawing at you all day. 

It felt almost familiar here. It wasn’t quite Matt’s place that you’d grown accustomed to over the year the two of you had been together, but at the same time it still was the apartment you’d spent so much time at. But it just felt different. It certainly wasn’t your apartment and it wasn’t exactly his, either. It was something else entirely. And that was what had been nagging at you all day–the unfamiliarity of this space.

For some reason the longer you stared at the television and everything that looked different and changed, the more you felt the increasing sting of tears in your eyes. Why you were suddenly getting emotional was beyond you, though. Reaching up, you wiped a hand at your eyes, trying to force the tears back. Somehow that only had them watering more.

And that was precisely when you heard the bedroom door slide open all the way and you jumped in the kitchen at the sound. Your focus shifted from the television to Matt standing at the edge of the bedroom, clad in only his dark boxers. There was a small frown on his face as he focused on you, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Sweetheart?” he called out. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

You nodded immediately, trying to smile despite the tears still welling up. “Yeah, Matty, I’m fine,” you answered.

His shoulders dropped at your words and you wondered if that had registered as a lie to his ears. Matt immediately began shuffling his way towards you through the living room, his bare feet gently padding along the floor as he moved. You saw his brows faintly pull together and noticed the frown was still on his face as he made his way towards you. His focus never left you as he maneuvered around the rearranged space, though. 

“Are you crying?” he asked softly, entering the kitchen.

“No, I–”

You stopped at the same time Matt came to stand just in front of you. A look of concern was etched on his face as he reached a hand up, his fingers gently grabbing onto your chin and tilting your face up towards him. His eyes worriedly scanned around your face, searching for answers as he quietly said your name.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I–I just–” you broke off, shaking your head as he still held your chin. “It just feels…different here. Not the same,” you finally admitted. 

“Is that what’s been bothering you all day today?” he asked.

Pressing your lips together, you nodded. Matt’s expression softened as he continued to gaze back at you, his thumb brushing along your chin.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” he asked.

“Because I didn’t want to upset you. And I didn’t know what I was feeling,” you confessed. “Not until I couldn’t sleep and I came out here and saw your furniture all rearranged and a television in your living room. And–”  you waved a hand at the shelves beside you, “– actual dishware on your kitchen shelves. And there’s a fruit bowl with actual fruit on your counter. I mean there’s–there’s actually food in the fridge here, not just beer and eggs,” you continued on, the words tumbling out of you. “All of my clothes are in your closet or your dresser now. There’s tampons in your bathroom, Matt!” you exclaimed, the little amused chuckle he made barely registering in your ears as the words continued to nervously spill out of you. “I have dirty clothes in your laundry bin and my skincare products in your medicine cabinet and a vibrator in the nighstand–”

“What’s that now?” Matt asked, quick to cut you off as his brows rose, a cheeky little smile pulling at his lips. “What’s in the nightstand?”

You shot Matt a pointed look, one hand lightly swatting at his bare chest. The cheeky smile grew into a grin as he released your chin, both of his hands landing on your hips as he took a step closer towards you, closing the bit of space there had been.

“It feels different to me, too,” Matt admitted. “Things aren’t where I’m used to them being. And your scent is vastly stronger now with all of your things here. Not to mention there’s now a light buzz from the television–”

“I’m sorry,” you immediately blurted.

He continued to grin, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize, I can tune it out. I don’t expect you to never relax and watch your shows again, sweetheart. Or to not keep tampons in the bathroom or food in the fridge. But do you know why it feels different?” he asked you.

“Because all of my shit is here cluttering up your space now?” you joked.

He silently shook his head, suddenly walking you backwards and guiding you with the hands he had on your hips. Your brows drew together as he led you a handful of steps back until you eventually bumped into the counter behind you. Before you knew what was happening, Matt’s hands had lifted you up and set you on the countertop behind you, that smile on his face never wavering as the billboard washed him in red. His hands slid your bare knees apart as he slotted himself between your legs, your faces almost eye level now as he focused along your mouth.

“Because it isn’t my place and it isn’t your place,” he whispered. “It’s our place. And it might feel a little different,” he continued, his hands making their way to behind your back as he clasped them together, his eyes still focused on you. “And maybe it’s a little overwhelming right now, too.” 

He leaned forward, lowering his face to press a kiss to your shoulder. Your eyelids dropped closed, a small smile playing along your lips at the sweet gesture. Arms raising up, you encircled them around Matt’s neck and held him to you.

“But this place is what we make it now,” he finished softly. “You and me. Because it’s ours . Like I’ve been saying all this time.”

Eyelids fluttering open, you saw Matt’s face was mere inches from yours now. A tender expression was etched along his features as he stared back at you, slowly lowering his forehead to yours. Leaning in towards him, you connected your mouth to his for a kiss that was full of emotion. His mouth moved so gentle and slow against yours, the feel of him reassuring and calming. You could feel all of your nerves slowly dissipating and leaving your body the longer he kissed you. Relaxing even further into him, your arms tightened around his neck as he deepened the kiss. 

The two of you stayed like that in the kitchen for a few minutes, entirely lost in the moment, before Matt gradually broke away. His nose lightly bumped against yours, a smile tugging his lips upwards. Biting your own lip, you couldn’t fight back the smile that was slowly spreading across your mouth in return.

“You know, I told you I bought mint ice cream in the event you needed some comfort tonight,” he reminded you. 

You rolled your eyes. “Matt, it’s late,” you pointed out. Removing your forehead from his, you glanced at the time on the oven behind him. “It’s almost three in the morning.”

“So?” he asked.

He unwound his arms from around your waist, in turn causing you to remove your arms from around his neck. He took a couple of steps to the right, opening the silverware drawer and pulling out two spoons. As he closed the drawer he glanced up at you, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he raised a dark brow at you. He held out one of the spoons.

“You want some?” he asked. “Or are you going to make me eat toothpaste flavored ice cream at almost three in the morning all by myself?”

Warmth flooded your chest as you stared back at Matt standing there, a spoon in each hand. The simple fact that he’d gotten you your favorite dessert–the one you’d told him about way back on your first date–to hopefully help you feel comfortable here only filled you with so much love and gratitude for him. Reaching out, you accepted the spoon from his outstretched hand, your heart hammering loudly in your ears. The smirk grew on Matt’s face before he turned, about to make his way to the freezer to grab the ice cream. Without a single thought, you leaned forward and reached out, latching onto his arm before he had taken two steps. Matt stopped in his tracks, glancing curiously over his shoulder at you with furrowed brows. 

Quickly you tugged him to your place on the countertop, Matt willingly allowing you to pull him back towards you. Without hesitation your hand reached up and grabbed his stubbled cheek, drawing him close before your lips abruptly crashed back onto his. Clearly taken by surprise, it took Matt a brief second before his mouth responded to yours. The moment his lips began to react, you could feel him easily matching the intensity and enthusiasm that you were displaying. You did your best to pour everything you felt for him into that kiss, hoping he understood exactly what you were trying to say in that moment. 

When you finally pulled away from him, breathless and with swollen lips, you smiled back at Matt’s grinning face. Just to make sure he fully understood the message, you held his face firmly in your hand, your eyes locked on his when you spoke.

“I love you, Matthew Michael Murdock,” you told him. “And I want you to know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His smile widened into something bright, lighting up his entire face along with the red light from the billboard across the street. You could see the glisten of unshed tears in his eyes as he gazed back at you with so much affection written plain across his face. There was only the briefest of moments after your declaration before Matt abruptly closed the distance between you both again, capturing your lips with his in a passionate kiss that had you forgetting about absolutely everything except you and Matt in that very moment.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock #matt murdock fic #daredevil

[morsesnotes]

I found this interview from when Shaun Evans was promoting S3 of Endeavour in 2016 and thought it was one of the more interesting ones as he gets asked some different questions. I particularly liked seeing him talk a bit about his peers and how he views his career.

Shaun Evans talks Endeavour series three, Hollywood and whether he'd star in Doctor Who

As Morse returns, the star of the hit ITV drama reveals what's next for his career By David Brown - Radio Times

Falsely accused Endeavour Morse was last seen languishing in a prison cell after being framed for murder. But fans of the hit ITV drama needn't despair - Shaun Evans is back on the case for a third series beginning this evening. Here, the actor talks about life as the Oxford detective, why Morse has endured for four decades and what the future holds...

So what has brought you back to Endeavour for a third series? I didn't feel like we should have left it where we did last time. It would have been odd. As a viewer, I would have been dissatisfied to have left it there because you'd have only been telling half the story. Luckily enough, we had the opportunity to come back to do some more and I think the stories are really good - particularly the final one. It goes along at a lick. It's a bank heist but it's also a love story. And it's heartbreaking. I think it's great and it ends in a really satisfying way.

The character of Morse has now been around for 40 years - why has he endured? A good story well told will stand the test of time. And if you throw in an unusual character - someone who is in a world but not of that world - then that's intriguing.

The original series of Inspector Morse did episodes in Australia and Italy - would you like to do an overseas Endeavour? Well, they keep telling me that the character is going to Spain. But I can take myself to Malaga. I'm joking, but I'm being honest too. There is a Spanish idea, but I'd want it to be right. I don't want this job to be a jolly or something that we take for granted and phone in. There are so many variables to that kind of thing: would the locations be as good? Or the actors? Granted, it would be a laugh to go away with Roger Allam, but would it serve the show?

Does Endeavour Morse become more like you as the series goes on? I think that’s a danger, definitely. The more comfortable and confident you get with something, the easier it could be to be less diligent about creating a character. But then you’d be taking shortcuts that you might not have done three years ago. So I try not to be complacent about it. I want to be even more diligent than I was when I started. But I admit that it's a tricky one.

Having a two-hour slot for a drama seems like a privilege these days - do you worry that viewers' attention spans could be too short to cope? I don’t worry about it at all. I feel like the work we’ve done so far has been very good. Some have been better than others - as would be the case. But I feel pleased with it. Now if audiences change and they feel that the episodes are too long, boring or complicated, then we’ll just stop. That’s OK. But I've seen some crime dramas that try to tell the story in an hour and, for me, it just doesn't work.You’re tyring to set up a killer, set up a world, solve it in an interesting or dynamic way and put in some character stuff as well. It’s nigh on impossible to do in an hour. I don’t think you can do it in a satisfying way. That’s my impression as an audience member.

Fans would be up in arms if you decided to stop Endeavour! No. I don't think that'd happen. It's just work. And they'd just fill it with something else. There'll be another brilliant show.

I think you'd make an ideal Doctor Who - would you like to play that role one day? I’ve never seen it! I think Matt Smith is a brilliant actor. And David Tennant also. But it just wasn’t my thing growing up and I feel like I’ve missed it now. I was in Moscow a few months ago and someone asked me about Doctor Who. And she thought I'd make a good Master. So if you’re offering me a part, then I’ll play the Master.

What about playing James Bond? Well, everyone wants to play James Bond, right? He always gets the girl at the end. And in the middle. And at the beginning, come to think of it. But I think that Daniel Craig would be a tough act to follow. He brings something really interesting to it.

Do you ever look at contemporaries like Benedict Cumberbatch and Eddie Redmayne and think, 'I'd like top billing in a Hollywood movie'? I know both those lads and I like them. But I never really think of my career like that. Of course, you want people to see your work, but I'm not interested in being the next so-and-so. It doesn't attract me. Mainly because it's short lived. It's better to keep working and do interesting stuff.

So being a big Hollywood star isn't all it's cracked up to be? I don't know. I suppose if you had enough clout to guarantee finance for a story you wanted to tell, then that would be a good thing. From a business point of view. But I don't spend my time being envious. There are so many variables in all that bollocks! When you desire fame or fortune - which are ephemeral things - you're building your house on sand, aren't you?

Do you have a dream project that you'd like to do? I'd love to do something about poets or photographers who have done interesting things and left an impression on their portion of the world. Someone like the American photographer Walker Evans. Or the French poet Arthur Rimbaud. 

So what's next for you? I'm purposefully having some time off. I've been busy and I'd like a bit of time to read some books and just study. I want to educate myself on writers, photography, filmmaking and poetry. I'm very lucky that I've now got enough money to have a bit of time to myself and study. I'm very lucky to be in that position.

#endeavour #itv endeavour #endeavour morse #shaun evans #doctor who #did not know he was so into poetry! #interview

[yourbucky084]

good girl

a professor matt murdock x reader fanfiction

description: professor murdock is the most attractive professor at your school. with his charm, cockiness, and sweet nature, you couldn't help but fall for him along with the rest of your classmates. what happens when he falls for you, too?

word count: 9.9k

a/n: HI HI SO SORRY LONG TIME NO SEE AGAIN. this took me so long to get up, but it's one of my all time faves. I re-edited a bunch of it, just adding some more details and juicy smut. the ending is a bit abrupt, I apologize! but I hope you all love it. any likes/comments/reblogs are much appreciated, more soon babes. enjoy whores - shannon <3

“So, with that evidence, he would be….” Matt paused, waiting for someone in the class to chime in with the answer. They’d been working on this all week, someone had to know the answer. 

But all he heard was silence. 

“Anyone? C’mon guys, you know this.” 

Matt hounded the class as he paced around the front of the lecture hall, waiting for someone to speak up. He listened for signs of people at least trying to figure out the answer. An uptick in heart rate, the fluttering of notes, anything. But he came up with nothing; just steady heartbeats and constant breaths. Just his luck to get the late lecture slot on Friday night. Half the class didn’t even bother to show up. The half that did was usually either on their phones, or half asleep. 

Except for you, of course. 

You were chewing on the end of your pen, something you tended to do when you were focused. He had gotten to know your little tics pretty well over the past few weeks. You fiddled with your rings when nervous, bounced your leg when taking notes, and, his personal favorite, you smiled when he said your name. 

“Y/N?” 

Matt heard the small intake of breath, the drop of a pen. Then, his favorite sound in the world: the slow rise of the muscles in your cheeks, the flush of blood to your face. Smiling and blushing; all for him. He bit his lip, slightly, in an attempt to hide his own smile. 

He just couldn’t help it. Not when it came to you. 

Matt was no stranger to the effect he had on people, particularly his students. He had been teaching a law class at Columbia for a few years now, and he was used to the way his students talked about him. He knew he was considered attractive, being dubbed the ‘hot professor’ a few years ago. By now he had come to expect the flirty comments and attempts to ‘earn a better grade.’ It was part of his job, at this point. He’d give them a small smile, and tell them he wasn’t interested in the nicest way possible. And he was telling the truth: he never was interested, especially not in a student. 

Until it came to you. 

The first day of class, you stumbled a few minutes late, muttering apologies under your breath as you found a seat in the front of the class. Matt was immediately enamored by your voice, the way you said his name that first day sent shivers down his spine. The sweet, soft spoken, “Professor Murdock” made him ache, ache for you. Which was something he was not expecting. He hadn’t been this attracted to someone at first ‘sight’ since Elektra, and he hadn’t even spoken to you yet. Yet your scent had already become one of his favorites, sweet and soft, just like you. This kind of attraction was… rare. Matt knew that. Over the coming weeks of class, he had become absolutely enamored by you: with your intellect, your kindness, your temperament, your habits, your… everything. 

And he absolutely hated it. 

University rules clearly stated students and professors could not engage in any type of relationship that wasn’t strictly professional. Until the student left the professor’s roster officially, anything was extremely off limits. Engaging in a relationship with a student, especially a sexual one, would cost him his job. It would cost him everything, his reputation, his tenure, everything. He’d have to wait until you weren’t in his class to tell you how he felt. And that was torture. There was still a month left in the semester, a month till he could do anything. It was a twisted form of purgatory, designed to make him suffer. He loved having you in class, loved hearing your voice, but absolutely hated that he couldn’t have more.

And God, forgive him, but he wanted more. 

As much as he hated to admit it, he often found himself most nights in his office alone, thinking of you. With his hand down his pants, he’d picture you beneath him, writhing in pleasure. Pleasure he would create. He often regretted it right after he finished, the shame creeping in almost immediately. Having these thoughts for someone who was his student was wrong. He knew that, knew that his feelings for you were wrong. Not being able to get off unless he was thinking of you was wrong. 

But at the same time, something about it felt oh so right. 

The sound of flickering papers brought him back to the present. You were flustered while searching for the answer; he heard the uptick in rhythm of your heartbeat. Whatever you were focused on before had really captured your attention, probably the case you guys were studying. You always got so invested in class, it was one of the things he loved about you. 

Little did he know, you hadn’t been paying attention all class. At least not to his words, or his content.

You were focused on him. 

Before enrolling in Mr. Murdock’s class, you had heard whispers about the defense lawyer turned professor. All the rumors were about his good looks and charm, called by most by the most attractive faculty member yet. Someone had even told you on a whim that “the blind thing makes only him sexier,” which one, was offensive, and two, made no sense. Everyone seemed to be obsessed with him, and you didn’t understand why. You even heard your advisor make a comment about his charm when you registered for the class, and hell, your friend was taking the class just to stare at him.  But you truly didn’t understand the appeal. He was just a professor, right? What could be so special about him?

You soon found that the answer was everything. 

Professor Murdock was, by far, the most enchanting man you had ever met. The way he spoke, the cock of his head when he really got into an argument. That cocky, wide grinned smile, dimples constantly on full display. His rolled up sleeves, god, the way those muscles looked through those too tight shirts. His intellect; the way he lectured made your head spin. He brought up ideas you’d never thought of before, he really made you think. And of course, the way he said your name. Sweet and slow off his tongue, no expectation, simply admiration. You hadn’t been this enamored with a guy since… well, ever. And you weren’t alone in that feeling: almost every girl in your class was in love with him. How could they not be? Just one class with him and you were hooked. He didn’t pay any attention to anyone, though, curving every flirtatious comment or any attempt to get him alone. 

It was clear to everyone: he wasn’t interested in any of his students.

The way he treated you, however, said otherwise. 

Professor Murdock, for whatever reason, seemed to have a soft spot for you. At first, you thought it was all in your head. There was no way the hottest professor on campus had a soft spot for you. But as the weeks went by, the evidence was too much to deny. He always spoke to you in a slightly softer tone than the one he used with his classmates. He was never stern with you, only sweet. He smiled at you more, more than anyone else. He always said your name with a smile, making you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be feeling in the middle of class. He left the sweetest comments on all your papers, sent you the kindest email replies. You lingered after class most days with some stupid question, eager to spend more time with you. And he always obliged, always changed the conversation towards you; your other classes, your weekend plans, anything. 

It was almost as if he wanted more time with you, too. 

And that thought sent shivers down your spine. 

“Y/N?” 

He said your name again, calling you back to the present. You looked up from your notes to find him standing in front of you, smiling down at you.  He leaned on his cane, head tilted, awaiting your answer. 

Fuck, the answer!

“Guilty, professor. Definitely guilty.”

“Good! Good girl.”

He said the last part softly, only you could hear. He didn’t mean to, he swore he really didn’t mean to. It just… it slipped out. Maybe it was the fact your hair was down today, your scent engulfing him when he was this close. Maybe it was the fact you were wearing a skirt, a little fluffy cotton number that left your legs on full display. Images of soft, smooth skin flooded his brain, overpowered any restraint. He didn’t know what it was that made him say it, all he knew was that couldn’t resist. Not when it came to you. Not when he suspected it would turn you on. He was grateful at that moment, though the rest of the class was barely paying any attention. 

Something like that could have cost him his job. 

But, fuck, did your reaction make it worth that risk. 

Goosebumps flooded across your entire body. He felt the blood rush to your cheeks of course, and to somewhere else. Somewhere lower. Your breath caught in your throat, caught off guard by the nickname, which could have been a negative response. But the growing arousal between your thighs told him you liked it. You really liked it. And you wanted more. You were so sensitive, so responsive just to two little words, his two little words. He turned you on, he was the one making you feel this way. 

He could only imagine how he’d make you feel with his tongue…

Or his cock-

A small shuffle from somewhere in the room broke his concentration, someone readjusting in their seat. It was meaningless, sure, but it was enough to make him snap back to reality. What was he doing? You were his student, he was your professor. This was wrong, you were young, innocent, whole life ahead of you. He really shouldn’t be flirting like this. He didn’t even know if you’d been in relationships before, for all he knew, you could have been a virgin. So why did that turn him on? Why was he feeling this way? Why were you so encaptivating? Matt heard the familiar shift of your facial muscles, the sure sign your lips were creeping into a smile, and then he remembered. It was you. Everything you did, everything you said, everything you were that made him act this way. You were driving him crazy, it seemed like nearly every thought these days was of you. It was wrong, sure, but what he felt was real. 

Screw the rules. 

He wanted you. 

He got back to his lecture quickly, picking up right where he left off. That was the best way to avoid suspicion, he supposed. And to let you stew in the moment. He heard the signature scribble of a few pens as he described what comes after a verdict, one of those pens being yours. To unsuspecting eyes, you were simply listening to the lecture, taking notes, being a good student.

But Matt knew your heart was still racing. 

You got back to your notes quickly, trying to ignore your rapidly beating heart. He didn’t mean it like that, right? He just wanted to commend you for getting the answer right. Right? Surely he didn’t mean to get you all hot and bothered; you could already feel the arousal pooling between your thighs. You tried to follow Mr. Murdock’s lecture, but you couldn’t focus on anything he was saying. Not when he had said that, and walked away like it was nothing. It was too intentional, too hushed, too on the nose for it to be a mistake, you decided. He meant to say it. He wanted to see how you’d react, he wanted to see if you wanted him too. 

And, God, did you. 

You just had to decide what you’d do next. He’d left the ball in your court, you got to decide where you wanted this to go. Ever the gentleman of him.You could do the obvious, and probably the most sensible: pretend it never happened and leave class as soon as it ended. That way, you’d keep your scholarship and Professor Murdock would keep his job. But, the riskier option would be to linger behind as you usually did, to wait until your classmates left. You’d get to see what Mr. Murdock meant by his little comment, to see if he wanted to say anything more. 

Or do anything more.

It was a no brainer in your eyes. You’d be risking everything: your scholarship, your enrollment, his job, his tenure, ect. But you couldn’t take it anymore. How were you supposed to focus on anything when Matt was teasing you in the middle of class? You couldn’t take much more of the constant flirting, the never ending tension. You simply couldn’t stand another day of watching him walk across the classroom, sleeves folded up, chest hair peeking out of his dress shirt. You couldn’t take it anymore; knowing you could have him, but still holding yourself back. You wanted to, needed to see where he’d take it next, if he wanted to risk it too.

And you were almost certain that he did. 

“Alright, everyone, I think that’s it for today. Check the syllabus for your homework, and have a great…weekend.”

Before Matt even finished his sentence, the majority of the class was already out of the room, on their way to their friday night plans. There were a few stragglers of course, as there always was. It didn’t slip his mind that one of those stragglers was you. You tended to linger back after class most days, more often than not in the last few weeks. It had started at first as just questions about class, but soon morphed into you two just chatting. You’d talk about your other classes and your career plans, he’d give you advice when needed, but mostly just listened. Every little thing you shared about yourself, about your life, Matt relished. It was domestic, like a date without the formality; he felt like he already knew everything about you. Tonight though, something told him your conversation would be different. 

“Y/N, hang back a sec?” He asked, even though he knew you would stay. He just wanted to get rid of that last little bit of doubt in his mind.

He listened intently as your teeth caught on your bottom lip; your attempt at holding back a smile. These are some of the only times he wished he could see, to see your reaction, to see the happiness creep up on your face. He was lucky he had his abilities, otherwise he wouldn’t be so confident that you wanted him too. The blood rushing to your face, smile wide, alleviated all his doubts.

“Sure Professor,” Your joy was clear in your tone, and Matt felt no shame in the smile that crept up his own cheeks. He knew there were a few students left still packing up, but he wasn’t concerned. It was a well known fact you were his favorite student, you were the only one passionate about the class. Your dedication to law and his class only added to his attraction to you, Matt loved getting in debates with you about the day’s material. He was in awe of how invested you were, how much you believed that in the end, law would prevail. It was incredible, your unwavering belief. You wanted to do good, knew you could do good through the courts, just like him. 

And god, was that attractive. 

“You’re staying again to fuck him, aren’t you,” your friend blurted out, breaking his train of thought. Matt had to hold back a laugh as he sensed your face flushing red at your friend’s remark, your embarrassment clear. Normally, he’d be a little concerned at that comment. But he knew it was your friend, and had heard her encouraging you to fuck him openly at the end of every class. 

Maybe tonight, you’d finally take her advice.

“For the last time, we aren’t fucking. I just like to talk to him.”

Matt listened closely to your body as you spoke. Your heart rate was steady, indicating you were telling the truth. You did like talking to him, and you guys weren’t fucking. 

Not yet, at least. 

“Talk. Mhm, sureeeee. Whatever you say. Text me when you’re done talking,” she said as she threw a wink your way.

She grabbed her bag and left immediately, not giving you a chance to respond. Now that she was gone, you and Matt were the only people left in the classroom. Completely alone. Tension filled the room like a thick fog, goosebumps covered your skin in anticipation of what was to come. Matt hated making you nervous, making you wait. He wanted you to break the silence, to have you decide where you wanted the evening to go. But you weren’t saying anything, Matt could hear you fiddling with your skirt. It was clear you wanted him to take the lead.

So lead he would. 

“Y/N, that’s you right?” He knew it was you, of course, but you didn’t know about his abilities. He had to keep up appearances, of course. You wouldn't know that side of him. Not now. Not ever. 

“Yes, Professor. Just me.” 

God forgive him, but the way you said his title… 

It made him feel things he shouldn’t be feeling. It was downright sinful, the way the word rolled off your tongue. He wanted to know what you would sound like begging for him, pleading for your professor to fuck you harder. He was half hard in his pants already at the thought. Hard in his classroom, who was he?

You emphasized those last two words, making it clear to him that you two were alone.

That he could do whatever he wanted.

His mind scrambled for an excuse to get you out of here, to his office. It was smaller, more intimate, and he had a couch there. A couch he hoped you two would get some use out of tonight. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, of course. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way, didn’t want to force you into doing something you’d regret. But the smell of your pheromones in the air, arousal very present, told him you were thinking about the same thing. 

You shifted on your feet again, shuffling, reminding him you were waiting for him to make the next move.

“W-would you mind helping me move these books back to my office? It’s just a few doors down, I-I also have a paper of yours to give back. Unless, of course, you have other plans.” 

His tone was slightly panicked, nervous. Like he didn’t know if you’d say yes. Professor Murdock was giving you an out, one last chance to stop whatever was going to happen. How sweet. You appreciated the gesture, sure, but your mind was made up. You knew what you wanted: you wanted him. 

“I’d love to, Professor,” you said with a smile, relishing the way your words made him smile in response. 

“Matt. My name’s Matt.” 

Matt. A simple thing, just his name. But it felt like the final step into something larger. You had spent time with him outside of class for weeks now, but he had never told you his name. It was like he had been holding himself back, his true self, and he was finally ready to let go. 

To give himself to you.

“Matt,” you said his name once, taking in the way the name tasted on your tongue. 

You liked it.

You wanted more.

“Matt. Matthew, I presume? Maybe even Matty? I like it,” you’d adopted a teasing tone, not dissimilar to the one Matt had taken with you earlier, when those two little words slipped out. You figured if he wanted to tease, so would you.

You watched as Matt’s cheeks flushed pink, his jaw twitching ever so slightly. You imagined this was how he felt earlier, seeing you all hot and bothered. A fan of nicknames, you thought. 

You’d keep that in mind for later. 

“Either’s perfect, coming from you,” he said with a smile. Now it was your turn to blush again. Matt had made nice comments before in class, sure, even the occasional compliment. But now that he was openly flirting? 

You didn’t know how to handle it. 

“Umm… where are the books?” You decided it was best to just move on, ignore his outright flirting for now. If you flirted back right now, you were pretty sure you’d jump his bones right here in the middle of the classroom. And as much as you’d love to act out your late night fantasies, you knew that the building wasn’t empty. 

And with Matt, you didn’t want to have to contain your moans. 

“Oh! Yeah, right here,” he said as he felt around his desk, finding the edge and leaning down. He picked up two books, two he could easily carry himself, but it was clear the books were just an excuse to get you in his office. To get you alone. You grabbed your bag and walked down the lecture hall ramp, meeting Matt at his desk. You walked over to him, trailing your hands down his arms, before grabbing the books out of his hands. 

“Ready?” You asked, as he grabbed his briefcase and cane from atop his desk. He balanced both items in one hand, stretching out the other to find your arm, wrapping his arm around it. He leaned in close, close enough so you could hear the contented hum he let out once you were flush against his side. His head turned toward you, as he smiled and said: 

“Lead the way.” 

You two spent the majority of the walk in silence, the only words between you two were Matt’s directions on how to get to his office.  It consistently amazed you how Matt knew where you two were after every turn, effortlessly guiding you to his office door. You used the downtime to relish in Matt’s warmth at your side, how close he kept himself to you despite not needing a guide. You’d seen him get around the building plenty of times with just his cane, using the braille on the various door signs to navigate himself. So he was clearly just using the excuse of needing a guide to be close to you.

And that sent shivers down your spine. 

“The door on your left. That’s my office. I just gotta get my keys,” he broke his grasp around your forearm, fishing his keys out of the pocket of his trousers. He unlocked the door, grabbing the books out of your arm and placing them on his desk. While he got settled, putting down his briefcase and collapsing his cane, you admired his office. There weren't many decorations, but you didn’t know why you’d thought he’d have any. The only decoration, of sorts, was a small metal sign hung above his desk, “Nelson and Murdock: Attorneys at Law.” Must have been his practice before he started teaching, you thought. Other than the sign, he had a bookshelf in one corner, filled to the brim with various textbooks in braille. Against one wall was a couch, a smaller, love seat type deal, pillow and blanket stacked neatly in the corner. You smirked at the thought of Matt, typically all tough and no bullshit, cuddled up under a little penguin blanket. 

“You sleep here?” You said with a chuckle, putting your own bag down on the floor.

“Sometimes. I like the occasional nap or two between classes,” Matt said as he fished something out of his briefcase, closing it with a snap. The room fell into silence for a second, and you didn’t know how to break it. Matt began to walk over, piece of paper in hand. Upon a closer look, you realized it was your paper, and your heart dropped. Did he really call you in here just to talk about your paper? Did you read everything wrong? 

But then Matt took a seat on the almost-too-small-for-two-people couch, patting the cushion right next to him, and all your fears disappeared.

“Sit, please, sit.” 

He heard your heart begin to race in your chest as you sat down next to him, close enough so that your legs were touching. It took everything in him to not pull you down atop him and bring your lips to his,to have you right now. But he knew he needed to take this slow. He didn’t know if this was going to be a one time thing, whatever it was. Regardless, you were young. He needed to be sure, to be confident you wanted him too. Taking things slow was part of that. But he also had selfish reasons. He wanted to be able to take his time, make sure you were enjoying it, to savor your reactions. 

To savor you.

“I-Is that my paper?” You stuttered, Matt could hear the tension in your voice. You were fiddling with your rings as you always did when nervous, though this time, Matt could smell your arousal in the air. You weren’t anxious; you were anticipating what was to come, same as him. It was turning you on, this build up. So he decided to tease you a little more.

“Oh, yeah, here,” he held the paper out, letting his fingers brush yours as he handed it to you.

“Great job as always. You really nailed the final commentary piece, too. I’ll be using it as an example for the rest of the class, if that’s ok.” 

You couldn’t hide your smile as he spoke. Matt knew you liked to hear how well you were doing, to be praised in the classroom setting. He had heard the steady uptick in your heart whenever he complimented your phrasing, or commended you for getting the answer right.  But, due to his little slip up earlier, he knew that desire to be praised carried over into other parts of your life. More intimate settings. He couldn’t help himself as he continued to speak, eager to dive deeper into this part of you.

“You really like to hear how good you’re doing, huh?” 

Matt heard the breath catch in your throat, sensed the way you clenched your thighs for some type of relief. His words had had the exact reaction he’d hoped for, going straight to your core. He knew he had you pegged, but it still felt good to see your reaction. He took another bold move, placing his hand atop your thigh, right where the skirt ended and your skin began to show. You physically shuttered, but didn’t move his hand away. In fact, he felt you move just a little closer, until you were flush against his side. If someone walked in and found you two like this, he’d lose his job. A small part of him kept reminding him you were his student, this was wrong. It wasn’t just taboo, it was illegal. He’d lose his job. 

But he just couldn’t pull himself away from you. 

“I-I just… I really like to please, Professor.” 

Now it was his turn to shiver. He definitely wasn’t expecting that in response. You clearly had caught on to his little game, the teasing banter back and forth. Your tone was light, innocent, and unpresuming. But you knew exactly what you were doing, using his title like that. He adjusted in his seat a bit, trying to hide his growing erection beneath his pants. He had never gotten this turned on, this fast, but you had a hold on him he couldn’t explain. Just your words, the contact of your body heat against his, was enough to get him going.

And he wanted more.

“Matt, sweetheart. You can call me Matt.”

Sweetheart. You liked that. You really liked that. There was a whole new wave of arousal in the air, he could smell it. You must have been practically dripping, the way your scent crowded his senses. You shifted next to him, rubbing against the couch just the slightest bit, seeking some relief. He wouldn’t be able to keep composure, to tease you much longer. His hand had already started sliding up your thigh on instinct, sliding under the fabric of your skirt. He was seeking out your wanting arousal, seeking more of you.

He needed more of you.

“Matt…” You said, his name a breathy sigh on your lips. He leaned in ever so slightly in expectation, waiting for you to do the same. But you didn’t. You stood up abruptly, leaving Matt alone on the couch. What were you doing? He had never been more confused, he hadn’t sensed any indication that you didn’t want this as much as him. If anything, you were more aroused than before. 

So what was going on? 

“Why’d you call me in here?” 

You asked with your hands on your hips, holding yourself steady. He searched your tone for any hint of hesitation, anything saying you didn’t want this. But your words were strong, clear, and concise. You knew what you were asking. You knew what he was going to say in response, and hell, you wanted him too. You were simply looking for confirmation, something to tell you that this was real, that it was happening. That it wasn’t a dream.And Matt could give you that.

After a little more teasing, of course.

He stood up from his spot on the couch, walking over to where you stood in the middle of the room. He took a bold move, placing both hands on your hips, keeping you both in place.c He pulled you flush against him, close enough so that he knew you could feel him rock hard against your stomach. He wanted you to know, to realize how much you turned him on. He leaned in, close, biting back a grin when he felt you lean in too. He paused before you two were touching, wanted to tease you just a little bit more, keep you on the edge.

“Oh I think you know, sweet girl,” Matt whispered, relishing in the feeling of your hips against his. The fabric of your skirt was soft, fluffy, and he was pretty sure pink; all he wanted to do was bury his head in it. Your hands moved from your side to Matt’s neck, one raking itself in his hair. He couldn’t help the small whine that escaped his lips, not when your fingers felt so good. You were so gentle, scratching ever so slightly, the tension disappearing from his shoulders almost entirely. You leaned in close as Matt licked his lips in anticipation, but you stopped just before you two connected.

“Wanna hear you say it, Matty,” you whispered in the darkness. He could feel your breath on your lips, could taste you in the air. You were teasing him back, giving him a taste of his own medicine. You weren’t as innocent as he originally thought, not as fragile as he had surmised. You could handle yourself. 

And he loved it. 

Without missing a beat, he whispered back.

“How about I show you instead?” 

Matt’s lips finally connected with yours. A bit softer than you were expecting, but you weren’t one to complain. Not when you were finally here, kissing the man you’ve been fantasizing about for weeks. You grabbed onto the back of Matt’s neck tighter, trying to ground yourself in the moment. This was real, this wasn’t a dream. 

You were kissing Professor Murdock. 

Matt’s tongue slipped inside your mouth, eager to deepen the kiss. You obliged, eager to take as much as Matt wanted to give. He kissed you deeply, hands moving up your back to push you flush against him. His lips moved slowly, taking his time in devouring you. And devour he did. His lips against yours made you weak at the knees, your composure slipping. But you only leaned into it, leaned into him, eager for more you knew you wouldn’t get. You suspected that this moment wouldn’t last long, there was only so much you could do in his office without getting caught. You wanted to savor it for as long as the kiss lasted, for however long Matt was willing to risk it. 

Almost as if he had read your mind, Matt broke the kiss. He rested his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. Keeping your eyes closed, you let out a breathy sigh, reveling in the moment. You waited for him to speak, to break the contact and address the situation. Instead, Matt’s hands found your hips, gripping tight, and beginning to walk you backwards.  Backwards until your back was against the door. 

“Matt, what are you doing?” You giggled slightly, taken aback by the movement.  

And then his mouth found your neck. 

“Matt… not in t-the office…they’ll hear us, you’ll…oh fuck-” Your words faltered as he pressed you against the door. His fingers had somehow already found their way under your skirt, moving your underwear aside immediately as kissed down your neck. His touch was full of passion, fingertips already skimming your folds. Like he was getting ready to fuck you right here, against the door. 

You were not expecting this. 

You’d always found Matt to be a particularly level headed teacher, one fond of the rules. He turned down every advancement from his students, he never kept the class a minute past the end time. Assignments were organized, the syllabus was a word for word plan of the year. He was… put together, in every sense. You thought he liked his rules, liked to obey. But here you were: his mouth leaving marks on your neck, his fingers teasing your slick.

You were the exception to his rule, you guessed.

You couldn’t help but moan as his thumb brushed your clit, fingers already teasing your entrance. He was still kissing your neck, teeth scraping the soft skin every so often. And god, was it turning you on. What was happening? You certainly weren’t surprised when Matt leaned in for the kiss, but that’s all you thought it was going to be: a kiss. You didn’t think Matt was going to finger you in his office, or fuck you on his desk. 

But right now, those seemed to be his only two intentions. 

“Oh, they’ll hear us, huh? You think they’ll hear how wet you are for me? How desperate?” 

Matt’s tone was rich against your neck, a low growl in your ear. He was teasing you; testing your limits to see how far you’d go right here. The building was mostly empty, as it was nine o’clock at night on a friday. But you were certain there’d be a few stragglers, just like Matt. And as much as you wanted, needed him, you didn’t want to risk him losing the job he loved so much.

Especially not for you. 

“We’re gonna get c-cau-auh… ohhhhh.” 

Matt cut you off by pushing two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that one spot on the first try. He kept pumping his fingers in and out, in and out, hitting that spot again and again and again. You couldn’t do anything but throw your head back in pleasure and wrap your hands around Matt’s neck to keep you afloat. Deep down, you knew this was wrong. He was your professor, you were his student, you couldn’t be doing this, especially not in his office. 

But if this was so wrong, why did it feel so right? 

Your mind was blank, covered in a fog of pleasure at Matt’s hand. His fingers felt divine, a godly gift from above. And hell, with the way he looked, maybe he was a god himself. Gone were your protests from seconds ago, long gone in fact. His hair was messy, glasses low on his face so you could see his eyes. A permanent smirk was etched on his face, telling you he was enjoying this just as much as you were. All you wanted to do, all you could do was moan and beg for more. Your hands clawed at his back, shoulders, desperate for something to ground you.

Because Matt was taking you higher than you’d ever been before.

You’d been fingered before, sure, but nothing could compare to this. Matt wasn’t just doing this for your pleasure, it was clear he was enjoying it too. Soft sighs against your skin, licking his lips every so often as if he was tasting you in the air. He leaned into your body; one hand holding the small of your back while the other worked its magic. His fingers were moving at a furious pace, but something about it felt oh so gentle. Matt was in charge, dominance clear. But he treated you as a treasure, each touch was intentional. No one had ever treated you with such kindness. His lips moved from their place on your neck, leaving small kisses along your jaw, stopping when he reached your ear. 

“You’re being so good for me baby, so good. Wanna cum? I wanna make you cum. C’mon, wanna make you cum.”

You couldn’t form words to answer Matt’s question, only nod slightly while your head was thrown back in ecstasy. This was all too much, Matt’s fingers, his lips against your neck, the realization that it was him, your professor, bringing you this pleasure. He kept hitting that spot inside you again and again, curling his fingers just right with every thrust. With the feeling of his fingers, and the fact that it was his fingers, Matt’s fingers, you were going to cum faster than you ever had before.

“Matt, I’m g-gonna, I’m-” You began, trying to warn him of your impending release. Before you could reach your peak, however, he pulled away from you entirely. You whined in protest, upset at the lack of stimulation without any warning. But before you could chastise him, he grabbed your hips, moving you away from the door and guiding you to sit on his desk. He pushed your skirt up to your waist, leaving you and your underwear on full display. You expected him to fumble with his belt, to fuck you right then and there. 

But he did something unexpected.

He dropped to his knees.

“Changed my mind, sweetheart. Wanna taste you.”

You watched through hooded eyes as he removed his tie and glasses, allowing you to finally get a good look at those beautiful brown eyes. He always kept his glasses on in class, only taking them off once and a while to rub his eyes. He had told you once after class that people typically found his eyes uncomfortable. The unfocused stare, the lack of blinking turned people away. You had told him that wasn’t true, that you’d love to see his eyes. He had told you maybe someday he’d take his glasses off so you could see them for yourself.

You never would have guessed that moment would be now, with Matt kneeling beneath you like a man at the altar. 

Ready to worship.

He tilted his face up towards you and smiled, giving you another glimpse of those sinfully warm eyes. He placed small kisses along your thighs, teasing you yet again. If you had learned anything about Matt Murdock today, it was that he liked to tease. It was becoming clear that was his favorite part of all this, he lived for the chase. The taboo nature of your positions was hot to you, sure, and you were only now realizing it must have been hot to him too. The praise, the nicknames, the desire to get caught. Matt Murdock was dirty, and you were loving it.

 Despite your earlier fears, all you wanted now was to cum. You knew it was wrong, knew you could be caught at any moment. But you didn’t care. Matt clearly wanted this, to have you in this way. And you’d do anything he asked. He wanted to take his time, however, and you certainly did not. After your first ruined orgasm, you weren’t too keen on the idea of him drawing this out any longer. You huffed out loud in protest, causing Matt to chuckle against the soft skin of your thigh.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m getting there.” 

His tone was soft, but he said everything with a shit eating grin. It was clear he was enjoying drawing this out, leaving one last hickey on your thigh. He licked his lips before moving in between your thighs, licking a broad stripe up your folds. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips when his tongue first made contact with your clit, raking your hands through his hair without thinking. You didn’t intend to tug as hard as you did, but you couldn’t help it. He felt too good, and you needed more, more, more. 

And he was more than eager to oblige.

Matt had decided heaven wasn’t possible for him after everything he’d done. He had accepted his fate, faced the fact he’d never reach eternal pleasure. 

Yet here he was, in heaven between your thighs. 

He had never tasted something so sweet. Your taste was addicting; the more he got, the more he wanted. He couldn’t hold back his own moans, you were bringing him pleasure he’d never felt before. The way you used your hands to bring his face closer to you, grinding down on him, turned him on more than he’d care to admit. He was already close, just by tasting you. He loved the way you were taking what you wanted from him, and he was more than willing to give whatever you needed. 

With another groan from his own mouth, he shifted up a little bit on his knees, just high enough so that his nose rubbed against your clit. You practically yelped at the contact, raking your hands in his hair even harder, hips grinding down on him. Matt tried to ignore his own arousal, his cock was painfully hard straining against the fabric of his pants. He wanted, needed to make you cum. 

Before he came in his pants like a teenager. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, need you to cum. Need you to cum, please.” 

He mumbled between your folds, the vibration of his voice adding another level of pleasure. He could tell his words did something to you, your fingers gripping his hair even harder. He could feel your walls begin to contract, could hear the uptick in your heartbeat as you approached your end. You were close, almost over that wall. 

And Matt was gonna give you one final push. 

He took your clit between his lips and sucked, intent on bringing you to your end. You chanted his name, his real name, not his title. This was real, not some fantasy. Like a silent, soft prayer, “Matt, Matt, Matt,” left your lips over and over again. Finally, with another swirl of his tongue, your muscles contracted, and a new wave of your arousal coated his tongue. You had a death grip on his hair, pushing his face between your thighs and riding out your high. He could sense the relief in your body as your heart rate slowed and your thighs relaxed. He smiled to himself, still between your thighs. He listened as you shifted yourself up on your elbows, still panting slightly. He moved out from his place between your thighs, trying his best to meet your eyes. Your hands found his shoulders, then his face, as you spoke.

“Get the fuck up here and kiss me.”

You both chuckled at your words, but Matt obeyed, standing up and finding your lips once again. He heard you groan into the kiss, overwhelmed at his taste on your tongue. If it was up to him, he’d stay like this all day, his hands on your hips, your lips against his. This was what he had been waiting for all semester, all he had ever wanted. 

To be with you.

Your hands shifted down to his belt, reminding him of his more pressing problem. He’d been so focused on your pleasure, so invested in you, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been hurting. He was painfully hard, the fabric of his boxers all too rough against his skin. But it seemed like you were intent on alleviating that. You fiddled with his belt, struggling, but he wasn’t keen on helping you just yet. 

He wanted to feel you.

He moved his hands up to find the bottom of your shirt, teasing the soft skin of your stomach underneath. You huffed impatiently, lips pursed together in what he imagined was the cutest little pout. You broke the kiss, quickly removing your t-shirt and flinging it across the room.You went right back to his mouth wordlessly, and your attempt to remove his belt. He traced his fingers up your lower back, trying to memorize every little dip and curve he could find. He finally found the fabric of your bra, running his fingers under the elastic as he broke the kiss. 

“Can I-” He began, intent on asking consent, but you cut him off. 

“For God sakes, Matthew, pleaseee,” You whined, finally undoing his belt. He twisted the hooks of your bra, undoing them all at once, the fabric falling along your shoulders. You removed your hand from the button of his pants, shrugging the soft fabric off your chest, before returning to your original position. He slowly, carefully, traced his fingers from your back to your upper ribs, finally coming into contact with your breasts. Before he could explore them, savor them as you deserved, your hand began to palm his cock through the fabric. 

“S-shit,” Matt exclaimed, and you bit your lip at his reaction, unable to hide your satisfaction at finally having him in your clutches. This whole night, you’d been at his mercy, under his spell. 

But now it was his turn. 

You undid the last button on his pants, tugging them down past his ass, as they fell to the floor. You found the waistband of his briefs, tugging those down too, letting his cock spring from its confines. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips at his size; he was huge. You’d expected big, sure. He carried himself with too much confidence to say otherwise. But this? You  never would have thought. He was long, sure, probably around eight inches. But god, he was thick. You could barely wrap your hand around his as you moved to pump him, using the precum at his tip as lubricant. One flick of your wrist had him moaning, bucking up into your hand. You looked up to find his eyes closed, head thrown back in pleasure, mouth agape in ecstasy. He was beautiful like this: vulnerable, relaxed, finally letting go. You didn’t know what this was with Matt, whether it was a one time thing or something more. All you knew is you wanted to keep bringing him pleasure for as long as you got the chance. 

Abruptly, he grabbed your wrist, pausing your movements. You pouted, frustrated at the fact he cut you off. You were intent on sucking him off, bringing him the same pleasure he brought you. But he clearly had other plans. He brought your hand up to his lips, giving it a small peck before dropping it entirely. 

“Wanna fuck you now. Turn over.” 

His tone was firm, low. Sure. Not unlike the tone he used in the classroom, when giving the class directions, orders on what to do next. He expected to be listened to in the bedroom, the same way he was listened to in the classroom. He expected to be in charge. 

And god, did that turn you on. 

You obliged, standing up to remove your skirt before leaning over on his desk. The scene was utterly pornographic, something out of your deepest, darkest fantasies come to life. You were about to fuck your professor, over his desk. You couldn’t believe it. Matt started unbuttoning the buttons on his dress shirt, slowly, muttering praises and promises as he went. 

“Thought about this for weeks, you know. You, spread out over my desk. So fucking beautiful, so fucking good for me. You gonna be good for me now, huh? Let me make you cum on my cock?” 

Matt was definitely dirtier than you were expecting, and you were loving it. He was a rule follower in the classroom to the utmost extent, but here was where his wild side was let loose. You didn’t expect him to be so vocal in the bedroom, so filthy, but it was more than welcome. You nodded in response to his question, to his praises, turning your head back to face him as you spoke.

“Please, Matty. Please fuck me.”

He growled in response, throwing his shirt somewhere on the floor. He grabbed your hips from behind, pressing his cock against the curve of your ass. The contact caused you to arch back up into him, silently begging for more. 

And you knew Matt was gonna give you more. 

He guided his erection to your folds, rubbing up and down a few times, coating himself in your slick. After a minute, he lined himself up with your entrance, pushing just the tip in slowly. You yelped at the sudden intrusion, taken aback by the stretch despite Matt’s fingers earlier. He placed a kind hand on your lower back, rubbing his thumb across his skin. Comforting you to the utmost extent, encouraging you. 

“I got you, sweetheart. I got you,” he said as he slowly pushed himself in, taking his time as he stretched you out. It had been a while since you’d had sex, and with Matt’s size, it was more than a little stretch. After a minute or so, he bottomed out entirely, causing you both to groan. He pulled back again slowly, causing you to groan loudly, not out of pain, but of pleasure. He brushed up against your g-spot as he thrusted out, already bringing you immense satisfaction on the first move. You cried out, loud and sudden, taken aback by the pleasure. He began to pull out all the way again, afraid he’d hurt you. But you reached your hands back, grasping for him. 

For more. 

“More, god, Matt please-” you began, but he cut you off with another thrust. He continuously hit that spot inside you with each thrust, grabbing your hips to help ensure he was getting the angle right. You grabbed the edge of his desk for support, desperate for some support as he began to thrust harder, now finally seeking out his own pleasure. 

Finally taking you how he wanted. 

“Fuck, Matt, sooo good,” You moaned, words slurring, unable to hold back your sounds of pleasure. Your moans were barely discernible from your words, but you had to let Matt know how good he was making you feel. How good he felt. You’d never had sex this good, fumblings in the backseat or lackluster frat men could never compare. Matt filling you, splitting you was overwhelming. You’d reach your peak soon. 

Your words went straight to Matt’s cock, twitching inside of you. Fuck, you were hot. He’d know that before, of course. But having you writhing underneath him, pushing your hips back with each thrust to fill you even more… It may have been the most attractive thing Matt had ever experienced. You were tight, way tighter than he had expected. Between that, and the filthy fact of you being his student strewn out naked across his desk, he wasn’t going to last long. 

He needed to make what he had left count.

“Turn over,” He ordered, slipping himself out and stepping back entirely. He listened as your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, but you listened anyway, laying back down on the desk. He grabbed your legs, placing them on his shoulders as he again found your entrance, and pushed inside. He didn’t give you any lead up, any grace period as he resumed his rapid pace, thrusting in and out of you. You lifted your hips up in pleasure as his thumb found your clit, rubbing it rapidly, with the intent of bringing you to orgasm as soon as possible. He leaned over, pressing a kiss against your collarbone, then your neck, as he finally reached your ear. 

“You gotta cum for me, sweetheart. C’mon, baby, soak my cock. Be a good girl and cum for me. I know you can do it. Please, wanna feel you, need to feel you.” 

He whispered softly against your neck, voice faltering as he continued to work your clit. As soon as he spoke, he heard the signature uptick in your heart rate, the tightening of your muscles around his cock. You tightened tenfold when you were about to cum; he couldn’t last much longer. 

Your hands wrapped around his neck as you came to your end, a desperate attempt to ground yourself as you went up. You moaned his name as you came, a high pitched “Matty” that claimed your orgasm as his. Something snapped within him as you came, something dark. He’d been holding himself back, afraid he’d hurt you, scare you away. He wanted to be sweet with you, to take care of you as you deserved. But his name on your lips as you came was too much to bear. 

He needed to let the devil out.

As you began coming down from your orgasm haze, you heard Matt growl. His hand left your clit to immediately find your throat, wrapping his hands around the vulnerable skin. Your eyes widened, taken aback at the sudden gesture. He had been dominant before, sure, but never rough or too kinky. Choking? This was a new level. Despite the surprise, you weren’t scared. You should have been, though. The sight of Matt, teeth bared, hand around your neck, eyes dark as he thrusted, should have been terrifying. 

But it wasn’t.

It was hot.

“Y-you’re fucking mine,” Matt mumbled as his thursts increased, chasing his own end at a rapid pace. You couldn’t do anything but lay there and take it, and you liked that. Matt was in control, Matt was taking control. If you hadn’t just come, you were sure those words would have made you reach your end on the spot. 

“S-say it. Say you’re m-mine,” He ordered, his hand squeezing tighter around your throat. 

“I’m yours, Matt. I’m yours.” 

You whispered in the darkness, and that’s what did it. Hearing you claim yourself as his, after he’d wanted you for so long, was too much. He removed his hand from your throat, grabbing your hips rougher than he intended. But he couldn’t control himself when it came to you, the Devil was in charge. He thrusted himself deep inside as he came, coating your walls with his release.Your words brought him over the edge, the fact that you were telling the truth when you said it was too much to bear. He thrusted one more time, before forgoing his grip, and collapsing on top of you. 

You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, one of your hands raking your way into his hair, as he came down from his own high. Without warning, Matt stood up fully, scoping you up from where you two laid and bringing you both to the couch. You sat on his lap as he pressed you against his chest, one of his hands finding its way to the top of your head. He seemed panicked, an expression of fear etched across his face as he spoke. 

“ I’m so sorry, shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean,I don’t… I’m so sorry,” He stuttered out, raking his way through your hair as he held you close. His heart was beating rapidly, eyes flickering back and forth like he was scanning the room. You were confused by his apology and panic; couldn’t he tell that that was the best sex of your life? 

“Why are you sorry?” 

You whispered back, wrapping your hands around his neck to bring you closer to him. He shook his head in response, flinching slightly at the contact. He seemed scared to touch you, his hand around your shoulders all too soft. He’d gone a bit rough, sure, but nothing insane. But it was almost like you could hear his mind racing, his silence said enough. You finally figured it out: he was scared he hurt you. Matt Murdock, the man with the heart of gold, was terrified he’d been too much. He’d been vulnerable with you, using you as he wanted to reach his end. But he thought he’d been too much; he’d probably been told that before. You had to calm his fears, let him know it was the best you’d ever had. He needed reassurance, just like you always did in class. 

And you’d be more than happy to oblige.

“Matthew,” you sighed, raking your fingers into the hair on the back of his neck. He softened slightly, but was still extremely tense to your touch. You kissed up his neck slowly, leaving a trail of red marks as you went. He still stayed silent, but relaxed just a bit more. Perfect.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had. Really. I loved every second, ok? I would have told you if something wasn’t right, I promise. ” You pressed a small kiss to his temple, an added layer of reassurance. He sighed, deeply, pressing you tighter into his chest. 

“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you? I didn’t mean to, I just snapped, and-”

“I liked it, Matt. All of it. I like you. A lot, actually.”

You didn’t mean for that last part to slip out, to confess your deep feelings so soon. But Matt smiled in response, using his arms to squeeze you against him again. He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your cheek, causing you to giggle. He kissed his way down all the way to your lips, giving you a quick peck before responding.

“I like you too. I’ve liked you for a while, actually. If you want, if you want, I’d like to take you out on a real date. Show you your worth more than a quick fuck. You’re… you’re incredible sweetheart. Let me show you how much.”

Your lips were on his in a heartbeat, trying to put all your happiness into one kiss. Your professor liked you. He liked you. He wanted to date you.

When did you fall asleep and wake up in a dream? 

You broke the kiss, smiling against his lips as he smiled against yours. You didn’t break contact as you spoke, your forehead still against his in pure bliss.

“I’d love nothing more.” 

FIN

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!): @i-said-it-n-i-meant-itt-it @crazyxshit @peakyrogers @laura-palmer-del-rey @pettypartypooper @ferxaniti @m0chaminx @srquinnhexa @fairyofspring @mnxxlove @kayxvii @hisdoll107 @hellmoonsin @mattmurdock82 @zabblegrabble @leto-duke @baconmuffins1216  @laprvphette @flawssy227  @the-dragonsqueen @galaxysgal @leossmoonn @shakespeareanwannabe @dontsaypetertingle @iflostreturntobudcooper @aliceblisss @phantomkindalikejaiden @phoebe-danvers @sfr99 @twentyfirstcenturyfox @justlenastuff @btsforlif @optic-neenee @foxe @floof-butt @general-latino @tobyr68 @tatespillows @aimerriarkle  @tooflef @trapped-in-this-love @wasicskosgirl @tiredpurpleee @sadgirlhours068 @imgonnaragnorockurshit @delmoyy @exhaustedfangirl @mylittlepimp @chvoswxtch @sapphicsong

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x you #professor matt murdock #professor matt murdock x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil fanfiction

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 31

welcome to the thirty-first fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. Skirt, Dirt, Worth by @ardett

Lance wants to see Pidge wear skirts and makeup. (But really he doesn’t.)

i know the description doesn’t give much, so you’re going to have to trust me. and i really truly do recommend this one. this one...it’s one of the first vld fics i read, actually, as it was early 2017, and i’ve only had the strength to read it once. it’s not that it’s traumatizing or gory or particularly hard to read except that it’s...heavy, is the word? it made my heart pound and my breathing go fast. i couldn’t...i was feeling absolutely everything lance was feeling and it was scary in the way being vulnerable is scary. it has influenced everything i have ever written. if you’re looking for really early team dynamics and a quietly emotional exploration of gender that will change your perception of it for eternity then i cannot recommend this enough. and i hope i will find the strength to read it again soon

2. putting it into words by @jilliancares [EXPLICIT]

Lance decides to bottom for the first time. (This one's so full of fluff that you MIGHT have the visit the dentist afterward.)

very soft and sweet and emotional! exactly what the description says, you go into this fic expecting something specific and you are satisfied by the end of it. jillian has always been and will always be very talented at exploring young, barely adult klance learning how to be with each other and be themselves.

3. Say Yes To The Mess by @astrolatte

"Keith?"

"Yes, Lance?"

"Is that a dead Altean boar on our front porch?"

"Yes, it is."

"Did you bring the dead Altean boar and leave it on our porch?"

"...do you like it?"

Keith wants to sweep Lance off his feet with his proposal, that is if he doesn't get himself killed first.

one of my fave post-war fics ever tbh. like this made me LAUGH. i love how awkwardly earnest and affectionate keith is, i love how many mean lesbians are included, i love keith & lance’s family, i love long suffering and endeared lance. the whole thing is a sweet and funny masterpiece

4. competitions by @jilliancares [EXPLICIT]

After a certain competition goes wrong, Allura tells Keith and Lance that they're not allowed to compete anymore. Naturally, they bring the competitions to the bedroom.

i love this one bc its so real. like of COURSE these losers would do this. and of course it would work for them. they are rivals first and foremost. rivals to lovers? no. they are rivals AND lovers. they are somehow something more homoerotic than rivals

5. teamwork makes the meme work by muuni 

Allura creates a groupchat for the newfound members of the Gender-Sexuality Alliance club at Voltron University. Everything goes downhill from there.

Keith Why was I never considered

Shiro You know why.

Keith For fuck’s sake You shank a guy once and suddenly you’re “violent” and have “anger issues”

Pidge keith you;re gonna make me piss my pantsnhdjkljdhjh

people like to shit on chatfics all day long ‘oh they’re cringe’ ‘they’re not funny’ ‘they’re overdone’ false. you need to learn how to have fun. chatfics are SO MUCH FUN. dorky dialogue?? memes?? vines bc this fic is old enough for that?? occasional regular scenes to flesh out the story? a sequel? team as family? klance?? MATT/HUNK, WHICH I HAD NEVER SEEN BEFORE AND HAVE NEVER SEEN SINCE?? this fic is amazing and i will hear no slamming of the genre

that’s it for today (and sorry i was late)!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!  

#i am finally out of fics from my rereadables collection #we are now onto fics from my general bookmarks #so things that were done largely before i had that collection lol #klance #team as family #vld #voltron #fic rec #fic rec friday #broganes #genderqueer lance #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #established klance

[chelseachilly]

THIS LOVE - chapter six | i wish you would come back

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 1.8k

summary: ben's in ibiza with his friends, and he can't stop thinking about you...he just needs a little help figuring out why

A/N: long time no see! it's been a crazy few weeks - i moved, then i got sick, then work got super busy - so i'm sorry i haven't had time to update! i'm going on a little holiday this weekend so i wanted to get this out before i did 🩵 i hope you enjoy the switch up to ben's pov ;) xx

previous chapter | view all chapters

-

Ben should be feeling like he’s on top of the world. He’s staying at a luxury villa in Ibiza with his best mates, coming off a big win and a goal for his country. He’s young, healthy, and successful. He should be enjoying life at the moment.

Instead, he just feels like shit.

He’s felt like shit from the moment you walked away from him at Wembley, declaring the end of your fake relationship. It felt like a knife to the gut when you left him standing there, unaware of what he did wrong, wanting so badly to chase after you but knowing he shouldn’t. 

He sat through an entire, agonizingly long dinner full of people celebrating and congratulating him on the goal, and all he wanted was to pull out his phone and call you to make sure you were okay. 

The next morning, Mason, Harvey, Tom and Woody practically dragged him to the airport and onto the private plane they’d booked weeks ago. It’s a rare week off for both Ben and Mason, so they wanted to make the most of it. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

In the past, a boys week in Ibiza was his idea of paradise. It meant days spent poolside catching up with the lads and relaxing before returning to his busy schedule. And the nights were usually dedicated to going to some swanky club and leaving with a hot girl.

This time, it’s been three days of their five-day holiday, and Ben hasn’t left the villa once. He’s been sulking in his bedroom half the time, and generally bringing down the mood even when he tries to force himself to have fun with the boys. 

He’s sent you a few texts to no response, and he would’ve been genuinely concerned for your safety if it weren’t for the fact that he could still see your Instagram stories - specifically one of you out drinking with some coworkers, including a good-looking guy apparently named Matt, who Ben may or may not have stalked on social media. The bastard - who Ben’s never met - may only have three photos, none of which are particularly offensive, but Ben knows for a fact he doesn’t deserve you.

The morning of the fourth day, he comes out of his room around ten looking for something to eat for breakfast, which he’s slept through every other morning so far, and is instead served with what can only be described as an intervention. 

All the guys are sat around the table, drinking coffee and staring him down as he trudges out in just his boxers - perks of a lads trip - still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“You need to tell us what happened with you and Y/N,” Tom says firmly as soon as Ben sits down at the table and pours himself a cup of coffee.

He just groans and takes a long sip before answering. It’s way too early for this.

“I already told you, I kissed her in front of the cameras, then she got weird and ran off,” Ben repeats the exact same brief recap he gave them on the flight here. “I followed her out and she said she couldn’t pretend to date me anymore and that she needed space.”

“Yeah, we know that part,” Harvey says. “And I get that you’re disappointed she’s bailing on the PR thing-“

“I don’t give a fuck about that,” Ben interrupts, a bit dramatically clanking his mug down on the table. “Look, I’m sorry I’m bringing down the holiday vibe, but my best friend isn’t returning my calls and I’m worried about her.”

Although most of the people at this table could make a case for being Ben’s best friend, and under better circumstances would probably joke offense at his statement, there’s nothing but silence. They all know what you mean to Ben, the place that you occupy in his life and in his heart. It’s…different.

“She’s fine, mate,” Mason says softly after a minute. He’s always the calm, level-headed one in these situations, and although Ben is typically grateful for his presence, he feels white hot rage within himself right now. 

“You talked to her?”

“She texted me back yesterday and said she’s alright and she’s just taking a beat,” Mason responds, speaking carefully as if he’s afraid of saying too much. “Look, I know you feel shitty because you and Y/N got into a fight and she’s not talking to you. But have you thought about why she might have ended this thing?”

Ben runs a hand over his face. “I told you, Mase, I have no bloody idea-“

“Just think about it, Ben,” Tom chimes in. “She agreed to be your fake girlfriend, basically giving up any chance of having her own dating life during that time. Then she gets upset and bails right after you kissed her for show, in front of a bunch of people?”

Ben’s chest tightens as he realizes what his friends are implying, but he immediately shakes his head. It’s ridiculous. There’s no way you, his best friend, have feelings for him.

“No,” he says simply. “That’s not…she doesn’t…she would’ve said something.”

“Why would she?” Harvey asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like you’ve told her.”

Everyone goes silent again as all eyes fall on Ben, who just nearly choked on his coffee as he processed Harvey’s words. 

“What are you-I’m not-“

“Mate, I say this because I care about you,” Harvey continues. “You need to get your head out of your arse and just admit that you’re in love with her already.”

Of course he loves you. His best friend since the age of six, his rock, his favourite person on the planet. He’s loved you since before he knew what love was.

Except he can’t be in love with you, because that kind of love ends. He’s seen it end, when his parents got divorced and when his friends have had devastating breakups. He’s seen people fall in love and fall out just as quickly. And that can’t be you and him. He can’t lose you.

“Harvey, it’s not like that,” Ben says quietly. “She’s…Y/N. She’s my best friend.”

“Yeah, but she’s always been more than that, hasn’t she?” Mason says. “I mean, the bond between you guys, it’s not like what you have with any of us, right?”

“Well, no, but-“

“When I first met you I thought you were already dating her,” Nathan admits. “I told Mase I’d never seen a guy so whipped and when he told me you weren’t together, I was shocked.”

“And you’ve hated all of her boyfriends,” Tom adds. “Even the nice ones.”

“They’ve all been dickheads,” Ben replies, though he knows that’s not entirely true.

“You two have always been more than friends,” Mason continues. “I love you, bro, but she literally took weeks off work to take care of you after you did your ACL. She moved in with you and drove you to every physio appointment until you were on your feet again. And then last year when you realized you were gonna be out for the World Cup and you felt like shit, she was the only person you would talk to. I think that’s when I knew for sure how you felt about her.”

Ben still remembers that night like it was yesterday - he was in the treatment room at Stamford Bridge, icing his leg, already knowing tomorrow’s scans would confirm what he felt the moment he landed wrong, and he was so upset about missing Qatar that he barely spoke when the coach and some of his teammates came to see him. And then he heard your voice in the hall, grilling the medical team to ensure he was receiving proper care, and he smiled for the first time since he limped off the pitch that night. 

You ran in, pushing past Mason to wrap Ben up in a tight hug and tell him everything would be okay, and despite how terrible things were at the moment, he felt so at peace in your arms.

“Mason’s right,” Tom says sincerely. “And it’s probably why none of these girls you hook up with feel right. You’ve already got your heart somewhere else.”

Ben feels his head spinning as he replays every meaningless one night stand he’s had, how something had always been missing.

He thinks about how it feels when he sees you in the stands at the Bridge, especially when you’re wearing his kit, and the way just seeing you gives him the confidence to be a better player. 

And, more importantly, how you make him a better person - how he’s constantly in awe of your career and how you help people, how it inspires him to try to do more to make the world a better place. How you’ve turned down expensive Christmas and birthday gifts from him every year and directed him to a charity worth donating to instead. 

He thinks about how you’ve stood by his side all these years, even when he was a cocky kid coming up in the Premier League and when he’s been a bit of a dick, you’ve always kept him from straying too far from himself. Through all the injuries, through every win and loss, you’ve been there. 

He thinks about how you literally agreed to this ridiculous, elaborate PR scheme just because he asked you to, sacrificing your own free time and privacy to help him out. 

Finally, he thinks about how right it’s felt pretending to be your boyfriend. It’s been almost second nature holding your hand and telling people how wonderful you are. It felt as easy as breathing to kiss you, and though he knows he shouldn’t have done it in a room full of people, he can’t bring himself to regret it. Kissing you was pretty much the best moment of his life, which means seeing you walk away from him on the verge of tears minutes later was probably the worst. 

But while he’s been beating himself up this entire holiday over the fact that he kissed you and the fact that he dragged you into this fake relationship, he now realizes that wasn’t his mistake.

The issue is that he should have done it a long time ago, and it should’ve been for real. 

“Shit,” Ben mutters under his breath. “I’m in love with Y/N.”

“Finally, he admits it!” Harvey grins, patting Ben on the back firmly. 

The rest of the boys grin and chime in with their agreement, but Ben is already rising from the table and pulling up flights on his phone.

“Where you going, mate?” Mason asks with a smug grin on his face.

“Home, I don’t want to wait until tomorrow,” Ben says with a nervous smile. “Wish me luck, boys.”

As he begins to jog back to his bedroom so he can quickly pack and get to the airport in time for the next flight, he hears Harvey call out from the kitchen.

“Don’t forget trousers!”

-

a/n: and off he goes!! sorry for the slight cliffhanger but i hope you guys liked this one, as you can imagine i'm very excited to share the next (and last, except for the epilogue) part and am already working on it!! let me know what you thought of ben's pov and any predictions for the ending! tag list: @captainwans​ @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @ncentic​@lunamelona @kathb59 @cinderellawithashoe @batmansb1tch @myheartgoesvroom @chillymountsjess @babygirlbenji @delicateearthquakellama @joyfullyswimmingface @xxenia14 @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @chilwellspulisic @maraudersmap123 @evelinapurmale @freekoalakryptonite (let me know if you would like to be added or if i missed you!)

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x y/n #chelsea fc imagine #this love

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

My One-Year Anniversary

One year ago today, I wrote my very first piece of House of the Dragon fanfiction.

My journey in fanfiction has been a long one. I started reading fan works all the way back in 2009 at the age of 12. I even remember the site: Harry Potter Fanfiction Archive. Wow. Wild! Of course, I naturally gravitated toward Dramione works—because that’s what you did, right? Since then, my tastes have diversified; evolved, even. Thank god.

Until I hopped onto Tumblr and started writing, I wasn’t an active member of any fan community. I was a passive lurker, hiding my enjoyment of fan works from everyone and everything. One of my favourite fandoms to read for was Game of Thrones; I particularly enjoyed the Jonsa works and any work where Daenerys claimed the Iron Throne (#JusticeForDany!). I will say that, as much as I enjoyed it, there were no characters who truly ignited my interest.

Then, House of the Dragon hit. Matt Smith’s portrayal of Daemon is just… electric. I suppose my very first thank-you is to him for bringing the character to our screens. Holy shit. Toxic, passionate, magnetic… everything I want in a fictional man! Daemon Targaryen definitely awoke something in me. I spent about a month trawling the Tumblr and AO3 feeds for Daemon x OC/ Reader works, seeking to satisfy my thirst. Daemyra is such a charismatic pairing in canon, but I could never really see myself in Rhaenyra’s shoes; she’s so forward in a way I’m not. So many of the works at that time were centred on badass powerful OCs, and I just… couldn’t relate. Thus,I officially opened my AO3 account and started a side-blog on Tumblr, posting my first work.

It was a smut piece between Daemon and a Reader-insert niece, and one of my first genuine attempts at writing smut - what is now today the second chapter of dōnus riñus (sweet girl) - and was surprised to receive positive feedback from it, given the um, dodgy themes. It spurred me to go back and write a chapter leading up to it, and then write another three chapters post-chapter 2. Then, people wanted to know how Reader and Daemon got together; I wrote gevivys (beauty) from his perspective in an absolute flurry of insanity, pushing out like a chapter a day. It all blew up - I never expected it to, and it is still incredibly surprising to me that people are wanting to read a protracted series about the shit I make these characters do! From there, ilībītsos (little slut) was underway, which was such a fun exercise in dirtybadwrong that I thoroughly enjoyed! Pretty much straight away, I continued on with ñuhus prumȳs (my heart), which I might say is my favourite instalment of the bunch due to the sheer amount of research I put into it. I'm particularly proud of that one, I must say!

Of course, this makes it sound quick. It wasn't - I have quite a busy personal life with my work, so I've not been the quickest at updating. I'm eternally fucking grateful to have an audience that completely doesn't care how often I update, so long as I'm proud of what I'm putting out at the end; I know how rare that is, and I'm absolutely boggled by you all. My squishies. I love you!

Reader has become Babey now - she has her own, like, following? IDK. It's insane to me. She doesn't even have a name, and yet there are so many people who have reached out to me to thirst over her or to talk about her or to share what she means to them. A lot of people have really resonated with the way she struggles with powerlessness and how, in some ways, she's learned to find strength for herself in a world that gives her so little opportunity to do so. I'm so incredibly glad she is a character that people can relate to. She's like my baby, my first genuine creation, and it is a privilege and honour to get to talk about her on here. I still cannot believe there are people out there willing to make art or edits or just send in asks about her. It's completely wild!

I have endless gratitude for so many people throughout the creation of this series, but we must all begin (and end) somewhere. I’d like to start by thanking my first ‘regular’, Wilma, for her enthusiasm and engagement with me as I first started on this journey. She definitely encouraged me to keep on writing. It was thrilling to wake up to another comment or ask from her about the series! If not for Wilma, I don’t think the series would’ve gotten off the ground as it has.

Thank you to my very first friend in fandom. I’ve only ever known this person as ‘Lemon’—they reached out to me when I was well and truly established during the writing of ilībītsos (little slut), helping me to conceptualise the idea for the third chapter of that instalment. They then jumped aboard as a writer, and so much of my earlier drive to write was inspired by them. If not for their messages and their companionship, I wouldn’t have begun to build the community I have now. They are still one of my fandom besties, and I love them dearly.

There are several important people I’d like to thank for being absolute superstars, and whose passion for fandom has impacted mine so greatly. Aubrey, Pancake, AQ—I’ve adored each and every comment you’ve left me, and it’s been such an incredible experience to get to know you all as people. Mage, Hannah—y’all are amazing writers and amazing human beings, and I’m so grateful to have gotten to know you. Bel, Fae, Mars, Mel, Rach—you’re groovy, and hanging out with you in Discord is the bomb-dot-com. If I'm leaving people out, my bad!

I would be remiss, of course, if I didn’t mention one particular person. We connected through a mutual friend (at the time), and eventually bonded over our love of being incredibly nasty, feral and disgusting over our love of these Targ boys. Pretty sure we speak at least every single day, and I can’t say how many times I’ve relied on her for input on a chapter or a specific plot point I’m planning. Her approval means everything to me, and so I can’t possibly go without crediting her as a major influence on this story. Ange—Angela—thank you. You’ve become one of my best friends, fandom and IRL. I absolutely love you to bits.

And, lastly, I want to thank everyone who has read my works along the way. It is still insane to me that there are people who think my writing is interesting enough to keep reading, let alone offer the outpouring of support I’ve received. It is one of the greatest parts of my day to be able to connect with others over a universe I’ve crafted, and the fact that people genuinely want to know these things just stuns me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Your encouragement means everything to me.

So, it's been one year. I'm still going, ahahaha! Here's to (hopefully) more years to come! I love you guys!

#em writes's one year anniversary

[wolven91]

A Heated Bed - Chapter 2

[Trigger Warnings - Dubious Consent]

Matt awoke warm.

An odd twist of life amongst the stars was that the various species liked it cold. Ignoring that excess heat was always an important worry from a mechanical point of view in space, most of the races had the benefit of some sort of pelt or fur that protected them. The rest, the endothermic races with scales, had their own method of storing heat and particularly avoided overheating themselves. What this meant was that the internal temperature of the stations and most ships used by the various races of aliens, were several degrees colder than what a human would find comfortable.

To humans, or, at least to Matt's perspective, it was always freezing cold. He hadn't been able to speak to another human in a month or so, so had no idea what the rest of his kind thought about the matter. Maybe he was alone in his opinion?

With all that said, Matt, was blissfully warm this morning. His mind didn't review the information. It didn't query or question it, just in case it was a dream and to consider it would shatter the illusion. All he knew was that he was on his front, and he was comfortable for the first time in months. The human made a half-asleep throat vocalisation and unconsciously rubbed his face into the silky soft bedding to get himself comfortable again. His unconsciously dragged his fingers into the pelt whilst the deep, steady heartbeat lulled him back into slumber.

Matt didn't notice the mild rising and falling of his bed. Nor did he immediately register the dinnerplate sized hand or rather paw that rested at the base of his spine. It was only when the other occupants of the room were talking in low, hushed tones that his mind began to question why someone was in his room? Everyone on the station avoided him out of fear of getting into trouble so for someone to sneak in was odd.

"-slept?" The human's bleary mind tuned into a somewhat familiar female voice, only really catching the end of the sentence.

"Mm, very well, I sense he needed this." Replied his bed, the deep rumbling baritone voice rising up, through the human. A quiet chuckle replied off to one side.

"They had no clue of the treasure they had. Fools." Declared the female voice, was it Ruby's?

A suppressed laugh gently spasmed through his bed while it admonished the distinctly female voice to one side. The dinnerplate sized hand extended and began trailing a set of claws up and down the exposed flesh of Matt's back. As the claws crawled up his spine, Matt could feel that he was under a thin material of some kind, protecting him from the air, but moving as the stranger's hand moved up, then back down lazily.

"Stop it, if you make me laugh, I'll wake him! Of course they're fools. When have any of them, ever focused on what's important?" A contemptive huff. "They care only for lines on a map or numbers on a screen. Look at him; starved. It's unforgivable."

Matt cracked an eye open, barely enough to make out Ruby's prone form. She was laying on her side, bunched up against whoever it was that Matt was apparently laying on. If he was more awake, he may have panicked at that fact. She was looking up at them with eyes that held only a burning desire and-... and then she looked at Matt.

If he admitted it to himself, he would say that he was jealous of the specific attention her bedpartner was receiving from her. Anyone with at least one working eye could have seen how she gazed at them. How content she was, but also how much she wanted them. But when her face turned and looked at Matt, her face completely softened. From fierce desire to a protective care, her gaze switched in an instant. Matt wasn't good at reading the alien's expressions yet, none of them had spoken to him for long enough for him to learn the subtle changes in their expression and micro expressions. But Ruby's emotions towards him were as obvious as night and day. Either she was the universe's finest actor, and he had no hope of outwitting her manipulation or she genuinely saw him as something to be protected, cared for, supported, and loved. She nodded, before looking back up, above Matt's head.

"Starved for attention, yes, but have you noticed..?" The familiar snow leopard asked.

"That's he's very thin too?" The chest Matt lay on sighed; the trailing hand briefly diverted and ran a leather padded thumb down the ribs of Matt's chest, seemingly checking how much they protruded. "They abused him, consciously or not, in more than one way. One cannot survive on just food and water." It replied and Ruby made a noise of agreement.

That was when Matt's eyes blinked, he'd been holding them mostly closed until now. Immediately the green jewels of Ruby's eyes glanced down and made eye contact with his, once more her face softening.

"Well, well... Look who's awake?" Asked Ruby with a beautiful, warm smile that reached her eyes. She reached out an arm, and gently caressed his face, running her soft pads down past his temple, dragging the smooth crescent of her claws along his cheek, before finishing by running her pads along his jawline towards him chin.

"Did you sleep well our Matt?" She asked whilst he breathed in and looked around, getting his bearings. Looking down at his bed, it was a torso of silky, black fur. Raising his head, the torso was attached to a set of arms that were looped together around his back. On top of the shoulders where all the parts met, was a large head of what seemed to be a panther. It's golden eyes practically glowed as it grinned down at him with a jaw of sharp looking teeth.

"Sleep well?" The deep voice asked. The concept that Matt was currently laying on top of someone finally took shape and the panic of offending took hold.

"Oh. Oh! Sorry! I'll get off you." He babbled as he attempted to disengage.

As Matt tried to move however, both the jet-black Amazonian cat that he was laying on, and the similarly oversized bipedal, long furred snow leopard moved to stop him from 'escaping'. The jet back giant laid back and held Matt's torso to him while Ruby threw her legs over the pair of them, pinning Matt's legs and preventing him from escaping.

"Calm! Ssh! It's okay, calm. Calm our dear." The pair of them cooed together, until Matt's confused mind took a moment, unsure as to what he was supposed to do. They... didn't want him off? Once more, the pair of aliens completely destroyed his expectations of correct procedure or social norms.

"But-" A large grey and white digit came forward and pushed against his mouth, silencing his protests.

"Onyx does not mind that you are laying there." Ruby's face dominated Matt's vision, her face was still one of care, but now held a mix of worry and the firm gaze of a teacher.

"Quite the opposite, I am most honoured to experience this." They replied from above and below Matt's head, rumbling him all over once more. The hands still held him, one on his back, one against the side of his head. Their finger's curled against him, trailing both sets of claws over his flesh. Goosebumps rolled outwards from these spots and Matt suppressed a shiver.

"You can roll off them, if you and you alone want to. But only if you're uncomfortable, but not because you think it's what Onyx wants. To assume what Onyx wants, now you are aware they do not mind, would be rude. Do you understand?" Ruby asked and Matt nodded against the still firmly placed finger against his lips.

Ruby smiled in return and removed her digit, but not before gently tapping Matt on the nose during her retreat.

"I... I don't know what to do." Matt admitted honestly after a moment, he was so, so lost.

Matt's upbringing was not one of trauma, not until everything happened all at once, but he had once, a loving family. His mother brought him up to be good, to be polite, his father instilled a need to act appropriately. But now, all the social lessons that had been taught to the human now left him confused and bewildered as to what action was the correct one. He thought his actions would be appreciated! Not considered rude! The last thing he wanted was to upset someone. But the aliens were completely... alien! He didn't want to offend them, he had believed briefly that they couldn't be offended, but now they apparently could!?

Ruby leaned forwards and Matt could feel Onyx move too, sitting up. The broad, wet, and rough tongue of Ruby lapped against the human's forehead and a somewhat similar sensation brushed over his hair, Matt assuming that was Onyx's. The human had to close his eyes as Ruby pushed her face against his, wiping her fluffy cheeks against his exposed face, while a similar action was performed against the top of his head. He was eventually released, blinking, but just as confused as before, if not more so.

"That's okay, we're here for you either way. Take your time and we will gently coax you forward as and when." Onyx promised above him.

"I think some food might be in order?" Ruby announced, changing the subject, and glancing at Matt, who didn't know what to say, then to Onyx, who Matt felt nod curtly. With the grace of a cat, Ruby rolled away and stood next to the bed in one fluid movement, the duvet barely being disturbed during her leave.

From where Matt lay, he could see all but below Ruby's thighs. He was once more reminded that he was at least two foot shorter than her and suspected he'd be at a similar height disadvantage to Onyx. Her fur was, for lack of a better word; beautiful. The grey dominated the pelt, but the whites and blacks made spots and streaks through it. It was so long that when she held out her arms, it draped down like natural tassels off a jacket.

As a human, Matt hadn't really considered the attractiveness of other species. In all honestly, he was definitely sheltered back home, not really exploring much of what or who he found attractive. Being a chronic introvert, he remembered even felling mild guilt when safely ogling images online in the privacy of his own space back when there was an internet, let alone trying to chat someone up in a bar.

So, when he considered the wide hips, the hourglass shape, the thick thighs, and the fact that when she stretched up towards the ceiling in a joint cracking, bone lengthening morning stretch; he got to watch all of this. It felt like watching art. Like a perfect marble statue had come to life and was now tiptoeing out of the room with a graceful bounce. Matt would feel guilt for objectifying her later, but he couldn't take his eyes off her form until she had completely left the room and was out of all sight. There was a beat of silence.

"I'm glad you find her as beautiful as I do." Rumbled Onyx, snapping Matt back to the reality that was his bed. Now Matt had to deal with the concept that he was laying on top of an unknown alien which he was mildly certain was a male, if the voice and form was anything to assume.

"I'm going to get off you now." The human explained carefully and steadily, aware of their stance on him reacting to his perception of their wants and desires.

"That's okay, need a claw?" Onyx offered helpfully.

"No, I got it." Matt replied as he used his knee to put his weight on the mattress for the first time in hours and tumbled off the alien sideways and into the bed proper. He had exactly zero of the same grace as Ruby or Onyx, Matt suspected. Scooting backwards he made his way up and away to the top of the bed where the alien was laying. Matt was now where Ruby was only moments ago, only he wasn't pressed to the alien's side as their lover had been.

An awkward silence, at least to Matt's perception, fell over the room. 'I'm laying next to an unknown alien male. A guy I have just used as a fucking mattress for god knows how long.' The human thought to himself, trying to organise his mind.

Matt wasn't gay, at least... he didn't think he was. He'd never experimented nor ever tried anything back on Earth. 'Never had the chance.' His mind helpfully offered to which he shut down with a mental scramble. No, he knew who he was... right? Women were neat! He loved everything about them, guys were... him? He wasn't 'sexy' or attractive, at least not to him, so that applied to all guys.

Right? That's how that worked. He'd never considered whether he found other attractive as he assumed he was straight. He didn't need to muddy the water for himself; trying to find a girlfriend had been hard enough.

Matt glanced to the side. The dark furred alien was laying there. There were no pillows, there were never any damn pillows in space it seemed, so the pair of them were laying there flat against the mattress. The felinoid had a small, almost knowing, smirk. Ruby was beautiful, she undoubtedly had sexy appear. Just the silohette was enough to entice Matt. But what of Onyx? The felinoid had his own... charm? No! why was he thinking like this? Onyx is a guy, they're just touchy-feely.

Why is he smiling? Does he know? Were they telepaths? The serpents could hypnotise you with just a glance, that was part of his orientation, so who knew what other abilities the rest of the aliens could-

Onyx rolled over towards Matt and rested his head against his fist, holding himself up, looking down at the human with a calm, cool gaze.

"You've not moved a muscle in over a minute, and I do mean that you've been perfectly still. Honestly it's impressive." Onyx said with a grin, briefly raising the ridge over their eyes as Matt glanced over up at them. His whiskers caught the light like fishing wires, glinting. He was handsome, Matt could objectively agree that.

"I'm fine." Matt lied.

"I didn't ask that and that's still a lie." Onyx pointed out before sighing and completed their roll until they were holding themselves up with their elbows, right next to Matt.

"Is it that you're scared? True Freedom is not as easy as one might think. Now that Ruby isn't here, you're left with your own thoughts?"

The human hadn't even considered that, he'd had more pressing issues this morning, but the realisation that the ship he was on could be accelerating towards anywhere! He blinked up at the ceiling, his heartrate sped up. They'd processed his transit out of there really quickly. Did they know where this ship was going? Could Matt be tracked so he could be rescued? Onyx again, interrupted the human's runaway thoughts.

"Ah, not that then. Then is it me? Am I too much?"

"No! No, I mean, this is your place, more than mine. Ruby wouldn't... Maybe I should-" Matt leant up to leave, but a wide and strong paw reached up, and simply pushed him back down.

"Ah! A wrong thought and not one worth wasting time on. Even you know that." The dark felinoid 'hummed' contemplatively for a moment, before opening their eyes and watching Matt carefully. It was only now the human noticed that the alien's face was in a slight shadow that their eyes were actually glowing.

"Are... are your eyes, glowing?" Matt squinted, the alien chuckled in response.

"Why yes! Yes, they are!" The alien smiled broadly and genuinely. "I liked my original colour, but I wanted something with a bit more flair. I'm all for subtly, but you need something to help you stand out."

"Ruby mentioned her 'original colour' too, what do you mean?" The man asked, glancing from one glowing orb to the other.

"Ah, when we say 'Freedom', we do mean freedom of the body too. Our skill at body modifications are quite extrensive. Most felinoids will adjust themselves at some point. Some a new pattern of fur, others a change of eye colour. I'm aware of some that have opted for far more drastic modifications."

"Like what?"

"I'm aware of at least one planet who have mostly become six limbed. They appear like any other, until you get to the hips, then they have a whole other body with four limbs for locomotion like quadrupeds, instead of bipeds."

"Like a centaur? You can do that?"

"I feel we have only scratched the surface of what you think is possible. But rather than worry you with what my whole race can do, shall we find out what you can do?"

"uh... sure?"

Matt was answering offhandedly if he was honest with himself. He was still observing the glowing orbs and wondering how the hell they did that when the alien suddenly surged forward and with a single fluid and confident movement, straddled the smaller human. Their giant paws were either side of the human's head, while their knees caged in Matt's hips. The alien was grinning down at the human, who had unconsciously brought his hands up against his own chest, palms open and up to push against the alien if they descended suddenly.

From this position, the gentle golden glow was far more obvious. It toed the line of intimidating and mysterious and yet... Again, Matt was hit by the idea that it was not a predatory gaze or one of disregard, but one of sincere care and perhaps more than a smidge of mischief. Onyx on the other hand was in full control of the situation and spoke with confidence as if they did this every day.

"Ah! There we go, now we can get to the heart of the matter. We cannot merely lay next to one another in pure frozen silence like before, can we?"

"Can't we?!" Squeaked Matt.

"Ah, calm. You're not in danger here. But, I need to hear your answer; why do I intimidate you?" Asked the looming, far larger, far more dangerous creature that was currently, all but pinning the human. It didn't matter the alien wasn't technically touching Matt; the implications and utter obliteration of his personal space were still present.

"You're a guy!" Matt blurted without thinking. It wasn't everything he could have said or even one he'd repeat if he thought about it. His emotions were a fused, tangled knot of confused and mixed signals. If he had actually thought about it, he honestly wouldn't have been able to give an answer, not that this one was a 'good' answer by any measure. All that had happened was that he panicked and his mind had fallen back onto old prejudices that had been developed by his upbringing.

However, his answer caused the creature's brow to furrow, before a rapturous grin broke out across its muzzle.

"Oh! Oh, I understand now! You do not like males?" Asked Onyx with near glee in their voice.

"That's not- I'm sure you're lovely! I'm just not, I don't think I could..." Matt was rambling, but he wanted to quickly reassure and not wanting to offend the alien. Although the human did notice that he had avoided outright saying he didn't 'like' men for some strange reason. He'd worry about that later. Now was not the time to have an awakening, that was for late night insomnia.

"Oh, I am lovely, but the good news is..." The alien said, leaning down until they were barely inches away from the human's face. "I'm not male."

"You're female?" Matt again, blurting out a knee jerk reaction, more surprised, than shocked. The rumbling baritone voice of the creature had cemented in Matt's mind of the alien's gender long before now completely unconsciously. But frustratingly, the alien continued their grin and shook their head again.

"Nope! Not female either." They seemed to relish in the human's uncertainty and leaned even closer, now mere millimetres away. Matt could feel their breath against his face, but they still weren't quite touching the human. Matt had to respond, to react!

"I-I-I don't... I don't understand then." The human admitted again, thoroughly confused and unsure how he should be reacting. He did what was safe to him; remaining still with his palms still up, but not shoving the alien away. A small part of his mind offered that as a solution, but his hands refused to push outwards, shouted down by another previously silent part of his psyche.

What was the correct path?!

"I'm neither Matt. That's all. Nice and easy." Explained the alien cryptically.

"Our Matt... Your nerves are from an unspoken concern for an unfulfilled action. Expectations versus reality. We've have physically slept together, next to and on top of one another only hours ago." The alien tilted their head, still smiling like the Cheshire cat.

"You're not denying this, even now. There is a part of you that is willing to be open. A felinoid trait and a good one to have."

"But you're not... Not female?" Matt's mind, a product of a restrained society was grasping at straws, desperate for a reason for him to deny what he may actually want, what he unconsciously felt he should feel guilty for.

"No. My dear, we can lay here and ask a hundred questions, or we can take one action and see how you feel afterwards?"

"What's that?"

The felinoid leant forwards through the final fraction of space and Matt's hands finally touched against the alien's furred chest while Onyx's black shiny lips that surrounded their waiting muzzle pressed against Matt's own lips, capturing them completely. At first Matt flinched, unsure as to whether he should resist or not.

They weren't the gender he had grown up expecting to kiss, but that felt like such a small concern next to the fact they weren't even human.

'What does that matter?' asked a voice in the back of Matt's mind, as the felinoid's lips pressed into the kiss with more force, meeting no resistance. 'They are just as sentient as you.' The voice admonished. A tongue briefly made itself known to Matt's mouth, which he hadn't closed yet in protest, it tasted and probed the human with growing confidence.

'But he... but she... they aren't...' the unintentionally prejudiced but collapsing part of his mind desperately attempted to counter but found no purchase whilst being subjecting to the dissonance of expecting to hate the kiss yet actually loving every second.

'You're enjoying this...' and with that fact, the concept of who he 'was' shattered. All knowns and unknowns he thought he knew slipped away as their foundations of sand collapsed beneath the weight of the alien's kiss. Regardless of whether they were either gender, neither of them or something entirely new, Matt could no longer deny that he was limited to one and only one option. His all-encompassing loneliness from the multiple months without some much as a conversation or comfort had left him starved of this attention. He needed it more than air at this point.

As Matt laid there, he realised that he was kissing back, pushing into Onyx to keep the pleasure going. It was passionate but unskilled from his side. On the contrary, Onyx had full control. They would press into Matt, then retreat, Matt unconsciously followed, raising his head to chase after the pleasure that he was experiencing, not wanting it to end, only for Onyx to slip one of their clawed paws under his head to support the human before renewing their assault on the poor, unsuspecting human who was now completely at the larger alien's mercy and push him back down into the mattress.

It was only when Ruby's voice announced that she was in the room, that reality came crashing back down. She was placing three bowls of something on the side table next to the giant bed, that Matt flinched again, now pushing with his hands against the alien's chest. Onyx merely grinned against Matt's mouth, aware that it was more that the human had been caught with his proverbial paw in the cookie jar than not wanting the black felinoid's attention.

"Well! It's good to see you two getting on well."

Onyx merely collapsed on top of the human while holding his face into the felinoids neck. Matt would have tried to squirm away, to disengage from what his panicked mind assumed was something akin infidelity or something to be ashamed of despite having no real defined relationship with these creatures.

"Aw, you spoilt it! He was getting into that!" Admonished Onyx, pouting at the now giggling Ruby.

"I left you for no more than five minutes and I come back to this? I thought if I was quick enough, I wouldn't miss it. Honestly I'm just jealous."

Matt had nothing to add, he went from scrambling to disengage, to burying his face into the felinoid's neck fur and mumbling how he'd like to be put out of his misery now. His embarrassment was complete, and his face had gone a deep scarlet.

=== 0 ===

The scuttle back to Matt's room was one of embarrassment for the human. He wasn't ashamed that he had kissed Onyx, he had... well honestly, he'd enjoyed it, that much was obvious and far more than he thought he physically could. His orientation was not his concern right now though, at least now that he'd calmed down. When Onyx had first moved to release Matt, the human had tried his best to hide his excitement for it all. He'd failed miserably, but Onyx merely looked down, looked back to Matt's reddening face and given him a wink, otherwise ignoring the issued that had popped up.

Nothing more was said, but still! Matt was mortified! Even if he had just had his tongue wrestled into submission by the alien that wasn't the point!

But now, he needed clothes and there were felinoids walking around in the hallway. The pair of aliens had offered the thin silky duvet to wrap around him, but it would have been less conspicuous, and it was only a few strides to his quarters. He could do this, so Matt politely declined.

In the end, he'd stood near the door, far enough away to not trigger it's opening, but close enough to listen. All the while, Ruby and Onyx watched the human with barely hidden amusement.

When Matt thought the coast was clear, he stepped from the pair's room and retraced his steps to his quarters right into the presence of a new felinoid. This one was a significant difference to Ruby and Onyx. Whilst they exuded calm, collected suaveness, this creature reminded him of a punk rocker in both their stance and attire. A bright white mohawk stuck out from between their ears, which had countless piercings and loops through them, at the top of their head and followed down into a mass of unkept stark white hair that hung down their back like a cloak. Greens and purple highlights streaked the rest of their fur in random places. They wore clothes, a jean and leather outfit with shiny spikes sticking out in rows and lines. It wasn't to the same degree of coverage as a human, but the open sleeveless jacket revealed that their interest in piercings continued to beyond their ears. Mercifully, the alien wore a set of matching trunks that hid their lower parts.

When the punk alien turned around, like the random streaks, their eyes were different colours too. One green, one purple.

"Ah, I thought you were just ignoring me." They said, gesturing to the closed door of his quarters. Matt dubiously guessed that the newcomer was a female based off the barely hidden chest of their open jacket, but once more hesitated lest he fall into another pit of assumptions. "I was wanting to ask when you're starting your lesson?"

Matt blinked, still acutely aware he was still dressed in just loose sleeping shorts and stood in the middle of a carpet hallway like he was committing a 'walk of shame'.

"My... lesson?"

"Yeah, the politeness lesson? They said you were doing courses 'cos we're gonna' scare off your kind?" The felinoid reminded him whilst leaning back into a relaxed, almost bored stance, crossing their arms.

"I... I've only just arrived; I didn't really get that far I'm sorry to say..." The human admitted to the arms crossed punk. They tilted their head dramatically downwards, hair cascading everywhere and gave him an obvious look up and down, smirking widely the whole time.

"Yeah, I can see we're helping you get real comfy. Alright, well I want in. If it means I get in then you can just swing by my place later."

"Wait! No! That's not what this is."

"Look, the rumours are all over the place, we know your kind are like... really really uptight, but I'm not judgin'. If you want me to come to yours, I'm fine with that too."

"No! I couldn't sleep, Ruby was... it wasn't... I don't know how to describe it, but nothing happened."

The punk leant back as she emphasised her words, seemingly getting a moment of epiphany.

"Oooh, right! You're a softy! Oh well, I know how to sort you out. Gotcha', well... I'll make sure you get a real good night's sleep. Deal?"

"W-what!? I'm not-!"

Matt's words were lost as there was a commotion and a yell behind him. Turning round, any further words died on his lips, as he saw a pair of what could only be described as bipedal lions, golden fur with flaming red manes and all, rushing towards both he and the punk. They were both stark naked and unless they were choosing to identify as anything else, the twins had to be male based on the fact they were hiding absolutely nothing. They waved as they approached at speed, seemingly not caring that they were exposed to the world.

"Oh hey! Can we join in!?" the twin lions called out in perfect unison, both glancing from the punk to the human expectantly.

Driven by an ancient desire of not being eaten by lions, Matt practically dove for his room and closed the door behind him, offering a half-baked excuse that he'd sort out a lesson as soon as possible. There was a set of scratches at the door, but that too stopped after a quiet discussion that he could barely make out through the bulkhead door. It sounded like the punk was explaining, but realistically he couldn't tell what had been said.

Matt held his hand to his mouth and stared wide eyed ahead of him. He wasn't seeing anything, he was just trying to comprehend what the hell just happened.

Discord / AO3 / G Docs / Tip Jar

#tw dubious consent #conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #haso #hfy #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #felinoid #cat

[hellskitchenette]

Ginger and Lemon I

Matt Murdock x Autistic!Fem!Reader series

Read it on AO3

Chapter I: Pas de Deux

Wordcount: 2,215

Summary: You get overwhelmed one night at Josie's when a creep bothers you and then Saint Matt Murdock appears.

Warnings: Christmas Fluff!!!, Protective Matt Murdock, No use of y/n, no pronouns for reader, Matt Murdock is a Ray of Sunshine, Selective Mutism, Bad self-talk, Self-Hatred, Matt Murdock Gets a Hug, Matt Murdock is a Stalker, Mental Breakdown and Meltdowns!

A/N: I posted this a year ago in my old blog that I deleted accidentally, so here I'm uploading it again. This series gives me an enormous amount of joy and I hope it makes you feel something too!

It was one of their usual nights at Josie’s celebrating the big win they’d just had at court. The case had been particularly draining and the three of them were exhausted, but the adrenaline from finally putting a happy ending to this story dragged them to their usual commemorating rituals. This meant lots of alcohol and Foggy Nelson demonstrating his dancing abilities  early that evening.

Matt was sitting on their habitual spot, with a beer wrapped in his huge hand, his body relaxed against the table. Some funk music was playing through the stereo, and he couldn’t help but tap his dress shoe following the beat. Karen was sitting in front of him, almost on the edge of the seat, observing their friend with a bright smile and sparkly eyes.

“Go dance with him, you are dying to do so.” Matt said to the more than-tipsy Karen and after a friendly arm squeeze, she then left the booth giggling. Now they were both making their best funky moves on the dance floor. It’s not like he could see them, but the sound of their clumsy shoes against the floor and their laughter was enough to fill Matt’s heart.

 Unlike Matt Murdock, you weren’t a Josie’s habitual. You weren’t a going-out-at-night habitual at all. But it was your first week in this new job and your team had just proposed that you went out to grab some drinks to know each other. And according to your favourite TikTok creator, who gave tips about workplace social rules, this was almost mandatory for a newbie like you.

So you sighed and followed them with a smile, putting all your efforts into following the conversation, making eye contact, and all of that. At first, it wasn’t that bad; it was still early in the evening and the pub wasn’t too noisy. But with time passing, the patrons started arriving and the place became louder and louder. The smell wasn’t helping either. Paying attention to your colleagues’ conversations was harder every second and their faces started to blur. And you weren’t even drinking alcohol. But this is how sensitive you were. The familiar sensation in your body urging you to leave started to build up in your insides, as well as the itch on your skin in every place the dress touched.

  You knew you should’ve put on something comfy for the long day, but you wanted to impress your colleagues. Or at least, compensating with your fashion style and your lack of social skills.

You couldn’t manage it anymore and looked at your phone before murmuring some excuse about your mom calling, you crossed the packed pub towards the exit. Once you reached the holy exterior, you let out a deep sigh and leaned against the cold, brick wall, trying to control your breath and concentrating on the pain the glacial air was giving you. You closed your eyes, achieving to deescalate a bit of your overwhelmed senses when a fetid tobacco breath reached your delicate nostrils too close to your liking.

 “Hey babe, fancy a smoke?” You opened your eyes deer-like, only to see a middle-aged man offering you a cigar. You were immobile and only could shake your head to decline, and he simply shrugged his shoulders al lighted up his own cigar. But he didn’t leave your side. “C’mon, you’re gonna freeze there by yourself, let’s come inside, I’ll buy you something that’ll warm that pretty body of yours.” He said after some puffs, his drunken gaze pierced into your shape, and then had the audacity to put a hand over your shoulders. All your alarms went on, but you couldn’t speak, and he probably interpreted that as a positive signal to follow with his advances. “Or we could go straight to my place and have you warmed up for good.” He muttered in your ear, getting even closer to say so. You couldn’t even breathe. Your brain was screaming to you to do something, but your muscles were like stone.

“You’re here. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” A charming, baritone voice interrupted the man when he was leaning to kiss you, and he turned to look at the owner of that voice. You were so relieved you thought you could die right there. The middle-aged man hesitated and looked at the stranger in disdain.

“What are you doing to my girlfriend, creep?” The mellow voice turned dangerous while the man in front of you took off slowly his sunglasses. The smoker finally pushed aside and murmured something about being sorry and disappeared inside the pub. 

Without the lump of the greasy man, you could finally observe better who you owed one to. Under the light of Josie’s neon, you could notice he was tall and good-looking. His square jaw sported a 5’clock shadow, contrasting with a fine suit. His tie was red and a bit undone, matching in color with the glasses that were still on his hand. He was looking at you with kind, big eyes even though his gaze was a bit unfocused. You recognized him from inside. He was the blind guy who had arrived not so long ago with the tall blonde and the goofy dancer. You were dying to thank him, but your mouth didn’t even open.

“I’m sorry about the girlfriend thing, it looked like the faster way to get that asshole off you.” He excused himself with a cute worried frown. “I hope I didn’t annoy you with that.”

Of course not!!!

But your mouth remained shut and your gaze fixated on the so-interesting tiles of the pavement. Now the nervousness from before was substituted by the one due to the hot blind man talking to you. “It can get overwhelming inside there, isn’t it?” He continued talking, apparently not minding your silence. Your selective mutism disturbed most people, but this guy was speaking to you nonchalantly. You managed to give him a weak agreement noise since a nod was out of the picture. “Well, I should be heading inside before my friends embarrass themselves even more.” He chuckled sweetly and put his glasses on again. Then he grabbed something from his blazer’s pocket and extended it to you. It was a business card, with a neat design and some braille words on it. You grabbed it carefully with your recently manicured fingers and for one second, both of your hands brushed accidentally. His skin was warm and rough. “Keep it in case some guy annoys you again… Though I hope it doesn’t happen.” He said with a tone you couldn’t decipher and then proceeded to read the card.

Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys and Law.

So he was a lawyer. You wanted to thank him, give him your apologies for the trouble, but you couldn’t separate your eyes from the black letters and even less speak. It was maybe from the random act of kindness, the shame you were feeling, or maybe the week had just been too much and on top of that, you were overstimulated. The thing is that when a single tear fell and dampened the immaculate paper surface of the business card, you started sobbing like there was no tomorrow. The itch from the wool dress was now insufferable and you couldn’t help but start to nervously scratch your arms, opening some already healed little wounds. Your face was hot with embarrassment, but you couldn’t help it.

“Hey, hey, come here, you’re going to hurt yourself.” The blind stranger, who until this moment had kept a polite distance between you and him, now was hugging you tightly, tracing soothing circles in your back. Your body, which normally rejected physical contact with anyone outside your inner circle, relaxed in his embrace. The pressure of his strong arms was so comforting that you started feeling more and more grounded. You tried to aisle the sound of his steady heartbeat from Josie’s music and the traffic, and following it you managed to lower your pulse.

Not only he was handsome and gentle, but he smelled so nice too.

 “Are you feeling better?” He asked after some long minutes. He sensed you nod against his tear-drenched shoulder. You separated from him slowly, now calm but feeling awkward as hell.

“I’m glad. Sorry if I uhm...overstepped before.” You shook your head immediately, the hug had been actually very helpful.

“No.” The sound of our own voice felt foreign, but at least you could do monosyllables now. He smiled then, brighter than the sun, which made you recognize a growing warmth in your chest.

“I’ll be going now, would you be OK here?” His face showed concern, an emotion that was difficult for you to detect, but since his face was so expressive you didn’t have a problem.

“Yes.” You managed to get out your throat, although you would have wanted to explain to him that the winter breeze cleared your mind. He hesitated a moment before grabbing the door handle.

“Have a good night then, and try not to freeze out here!” And with the warmest smile, he finally went into Josie’s loud interior. You sighed, hard, and leaned once more against the wall fidgeting with the card. And then your mind started working by itself.

You idiot couldn’t even respond even though he kind of saved you from that creep you’re useless how do you even have a job surely you won’t keep it for more than a month this is why your relationships never work you’re an imbecile...

STOP.

You inhaled the sharp, ice-cold air to stop your rumination and remembered the words your therapist usually said to help you when you entered the spiral. Repeating them like a mantra, finally, your noisy mind started to be quieter and therefore you could think.

Okay, I might not have said thank you but now I have his contact and I could plan how to do it in a proper way. Nothing’s wrong and he seemed nice.

Then you proceeded with a Google search about how the better way was to express gratitude, but after some time became confused and dizzy with the multiple options and decided to ask your best friend, your guardian angel in these situations. Finally, much more calmed and distracted thinking about chocolates, flowers, fruit baskets and gift cards you could manage to go inside, grab your things, and say a proper goodbye to your colleagues before leaving for good. You didn’t see Matt again that night. But what you didn’t know is that  he  would be seeing you though.

Matt noticed from the start you were starting to have a meltdown. It was nothing like he knew you: you were just another stranger that night at Josie’s. But when your body heat and heart rate spiked from nowhere, he got distracted from Karen’s and Foggy’s messy dancing, unable to let someone’s distress pass by. When the sound of your boots disappeared through the main door, he considered if he should follow you or not. It wasn’t like you were his business, maybe you didn’t want to be disturbed or just received awful news. Who knows? But nevertheless, he continued focusing on your trail, discovering you smelled like ginger and lemon, fresh baked goods, and something he could only identify as rosin. But it wasn’t your delicious smell that dragged him out of the comfortable booth. When he heard that man harassing you, he couldn’t help but jump without even grabbing his cane. He knew the state you were in and recognized the voice of the man: one patron who had previously annoyed Karen and other women too.

He’ll later blame the alcohol for the reason for taking such a leap of faith and hugging you. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice your attraction to him. But it wasn’t OK, even though it ended up being helpful for your well-being. Giving you his card after being harassed wasn’t his best idea either, especially during a breakdown. Matt even didn’t know why he had done it. He tossed his hair nervously, shivering a bit because of the icy air. That’s when the Daredevil suit was helpful because wandering around Hell’s Kitchen rooftops in his day job suit was going to gain him a cold.

Well, maybe he was being the creep now. But he excused himself remembering how nervous you had been before. He just wanted to make sure you arrived home safe and anyone tried to follow you. 

He chuckled to himself, realizing you had hit replay to the same song again. He recognized the delicate harp followed by the strings. It was the so-emotive  Grand Pas de Deux from The Nutcracker ballet ending. Maybe Matt couldn’t enjoy seeing the dancers’ performance, but he’s a music enjoyer and in the ballet, they’re both as important. But definitely, if he had the opportunity to see you again, he would scold you about walking with headphones on through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. So careless! 

After some time of following you from rooftop to rooftop, it looked like you arrived at your apartment block and Matt decided to end his stalker activities and call it a night. But later, wrapped in his fine silk sheets, the only thing in his mind was you.

Next chapter

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock x autistic!reader #charlie cox #matthew murdock #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fluff

[call-me-little-sunshine84]

Slow Heat

SSA Matt Simmons x female reader

Rating: explicit - minors DNI

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: After wanting Matt for so long, what will you do when you finally get him?

Warnings: smut! - mentioned masturbation - oral sex (m receiving) - unprotected sex - multiple orgasms - canon divergence

A/N: this is set in an AU where he is divorced - there is a horrible lack of Matt smut and I don't think I would do justice to the husband/wife vibe but didn't want to make him a cheater

“Morning Matt,” you said cheerily as he entered the office. “Good morning,” he replied tersely, juggling his bag and a cup of coffee. He hadn’t been the same since telling everyone about the divorce. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through, trying to get used to his new reality, and learning to coparent with that many kids. 

A small, awful part of you was secretly glad he was getting divorced. It made the way you felt about him, and had felt ever since you met, a little more acceptable. Married man = giant no in your book. Divorced man = okay to fantasize about, which you did more often than was probably normal. There was also the small fact that you worked together. Sure, you worked in tech, it’s not like you went out in the field with the team, but they still treated you like one of their own - probably thanks to your friendship with Garcia. Office romances hardly ever worked out. Still…you couldn’t help but watch him every time he walked past, your heart skipping a beat when he smiled at you. 

Wanting to be respectful to what he was going through, you kept all your feelings to yourself. It was so hard when all you wanted to do was spend one night with him, showing him how eager you were to please him. Instead, you just ended up pleasing yourself while thinking about what he must look like underneath his clothes. It went on like that for months, you lusting after him from the sidelines, until one night after a particularly bad case.

The team had returned to the office, looks of defeat and anger plainly written on their faces. You just happened to still be there, finishing up a last-minute assignment. Your heart sank when you looked up at them getting off the elevator. “Oh no, what happened?” you asked, concerned. “The perp got away,” Rossi replied, shaking his head. “Damn, I’m sorry,” you said sincerely. “We’re going to go get a drink, need to shake this off. Do you want to join us?” he asked. “Sure, why not,” you replied, happy for the break. You were stiff and sore from sitting in a chair all day. 

Everyone grabbed their things, and you walked around the block to the nearby tavern. Thanks to Penelope switching seats with you - after a less than subtle wink and shoulder nudge - you ended up sitting next to Matt. At first you were extremely nervous, but you were surprised to find that talking to him came easily. The conversation stayed steady, both of you talking about your families, hobbies, favorite movies, everything. The others slowly began to say their goodbyes, and before long you realized it was just the two of you left. 

“Oh wow, I guess I need to get back home,” you said, looking at the time on your phone. “I’ll go with you, make sure you get there okay,” Matt offered with a smile. “You really don’t have to, it’s not like either of us drank that much,” you replied. And it was true, you switched to coke after a few shots, and he had been sipping the same beer all night. “Really, I insist,” he told you. Pretty sure that your face had turned several unflattering shades of red, you relented, grabbing your purse. The walk back to the office to get his car as well as the ride back to your apartment, were filled with awkward silence. What happened to the way you had been at the bar?

Pulling into the parking lot, he offered to walk you to the door. You took him up on it, not knowing what would come next. Standing at your doorway, you looked at him, wishing the night wasn’t over. “Want to come in for some coffee?” you asked, holding your breath until he replied. “Sure,” he said, and you unlocked your door with trembling hands. Throwing your bag down on the counter, you picked up two coffee mugs and were about to begin making the first one when Matt walked up behind you. 

Standing so close you could feel the heat coming off of his body, smell the cologne he was wearing, you resisted the urge to lean back against him. Instead, you stiffened, unsure of what to do or say. Suddenly you felt his hands on your hips, turning you around to face him. Looking up at him questioningly, his face so close to yours, you gasped as he ran his hand gently across your jawline, sending sparks through your body. “Matt, what are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, your body on edge just from that little bit of contact. Instead of answering, he leaned down and kissed you slowly and sweetly. “I think we could both use this, don’t you?” he asked, moving his body even closer to you. It was true, it had been a long time since anything but your vibrator had brought you to paradise.

“If you had any idea of how many times I had fantasized about this, you wouldn’t even have to ask,” you replied in a surprising burst of boldness. Never in your wildest dreams did you think any of this would actually be happening. He growled at your response and moved in to kiss you again, this time fast and hard. His hands roamed your body slowly in contrast, exploring every inch of you. 

Dragging him into your bedroom, you pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. Holy shit you thought, running your hands over his muscled abs, practically drooling at the sight of him. Pushing him back onto the bed, you undid his belt and removed his pants. He was already hard, and just the outline of him straining against his boxers had you practically dripping. You kissed and licked a slow trail down his perfect body, working your way down to what you wanted most. Your eyes widened when you freed his dick from his underwear and the smirk on his face made you want to climb on him right that second, but you somehow controlled yourself, deciding to make this last as long as possible. 

Taking him in your mouth, you flattened your tongue and ran it up and down his shaft while sucking gently, and he groaned deeply in appreciation. One hand around his base and the other gripping his muscular thigh, you worked your magic on him, bringing him right to the edge before he pushed you back, not wanting to finish too soon. 

Eagerly shedding your clothes, you rejoined him on the bed. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your neck, raising goosebumps all over. Going lower, he cupped your breasts, wrapping his lips around one hardened nipple while gently massaging the other. Moaning, feeling like your body would ignite at any moment, you almost jumped off the bed when he reached a hand down and ran his fingers through your slick folds. 

“Damn, you really did want this, didn’t you?” he grinned, feeling just how excited you were for him. All you could do was groan his name as he dragged his fingers through your walls, hitting that sweet spot that you always had trouble finding yourself. Two fingers worked inside you while his thumb made sweet circles on your clit. You looked up at him, his already dark eyes almost black, clouded with lust. It was enough, just knowing you were the cause of that look of absolute desire on his face, to push you over the edge. You climaxed, thighs trembling against his hand. 

Giving yourself no time to ride out your high, you pushed him back against the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs. “Oh my God,” he grunted, a look of absolute devotion on his face as you lowered yourself down onto him slowly. 

The stretch and slight burn went away quickly as you adjusted to his size, and you found a steady pace. He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, and you ground down on him eagerly. Who knew sex could feel this good you thought to yourself. After all the months of longing for Matt, this was actually happening. He moved his hands up to grasp your breasts, bringing you back to reality. You rolled your hips even harder and faster, that invisible coil in your belly growing tighter, threatening to snap again. Your nails digging crescent shaped marks into his chest, you felt your second orgasm sweep through you. Squeezing down around him as you continued to ride him, Matt groaned your name as he also found release. Collapsing against him on the bed, your sweat slicked bodies sticking together, you sighed contentedly. Slowly tracing the tattoo on his bicep, he asked if you were okay. “Of course. I told you; I’ve wanted that for a long time now,” you replied. He cocked an eyebrow. “Really?” 

“You know, for a profiler you really missed all the signs, didn’t you?” you said with a laugh.

#matt simmons smut #matt simmons x reader #matt simmons x you #matt simmons imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #daniel henney #matt simmons